#oops gave 3 people the same scar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Text

𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲 | tom (make up) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | you and tom have been two peas in a pod for your entire lives: tommy and birdie, partners in crime. you only fell in love with him a few years ago, though. maybe he'll notice sometime before you die of old age... but probably not.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 15.8k (oops)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only, dry humping, handjob, unprotected sex/loss of virginity, fingering, oral f receiving), alcohol consumption and tobacco use, best friends to lovers, angst, pining, fluff, tom and reader lacking braincells, extreme cornish, protectiveness/jealousy, There Was Only One Bed, I can't stress enough how fucking stupid these two are, truly no braincells detected in this entire fic

(title's after the song by the greeting committee <3 will always be the song that makes me think of tom the most)

YOU DON'T NEED TO SEE THE MOVIE TO READ THIS! plot of the film is totally discarded lmaooo

author's note part 2: there's a moment where the reader mentions that sometimes people think her and tom are siblings, she does not necessarily mean that they look alike! she means that they ACT like siblings and could be related through adoption or marriage-- her appearance isn't described and it's left open-ended for anyone to insert themselves ❤️

before we get started, I'm including a convenient cornish dictionary for you all to use if you're not already familiar with the dialect! other terms might pop up but they'll be explained in the text

teazy - acting grumpy or throwing a tantrum; something you might say to a kid having a fit or an adult who is being childishly negative

tuss - insult referencing male genitals; similar to 'knob' or 'dick' in UK and US english

my 'ansum - common, platonic greeting for men ("my handsome")

my bird - common, platonic greeting for women

rich - lovely, endearing, or beautiful

diddy? - a phrase used to mean 'is that true?' or 'really?'; diddah? and issuh? mean the same thing

wasson? - a greeting; short for "what's going on?"

jumping - very angry

hanging - terrible, gross

scat - (NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING lol) to push or fight someone

geek - a quick look; you can 'take a geek' at something

“Leave off, m'fine." Tom crinkled up his nose as he tried to brush your hands away, but you fought to keep dabbing the cuts on his face with the washcloth.

"Fine? You look like you lost a fight," you frowned.

"Well, we won the match, so," he smiled, but winced when you went back to the cut just above his eyebrow. “Fuck off, that hurts!”

“Couldn’t hurt as much as it did when you got it,” you insisted. “C’mon, it’ll scar if you don’t let me clean it up right.”

“So? I thought the lasses liked scars,” he grinned. “Makes me look tough.”

“Makes you look like you got your arse handed to you.”

Tom really wasn’t built for rugby. Though he certainly wasn’t in bad shape, he was the slimmest of all the guys he played with; he was fast, he had that going for him, but the poor kid got pummelled every time he played.

“Wish you wouldn’t go out there,” you mumbled, one of those rare times that you admitted how much you hated seeing him get hurt.

“Wish you wouldn’t worry about me when I can take care’a meself,” he replied.

And that was how it had always been— Tom was just reckless like that, and you had to try to reign him in as best you could. You could remember so many nights spent this way, you trying to scold him enough that he might be a little more careful; but considering you’d been doing this since you were just little kids, you eventually gave up on trying to stop him and just decided to be there when he needed a little comfort.

You might’ve always been Tom’s greatest comfort. So many things in life are uncertain, temporary, fleeting. Not you; you’d always been there, as long as he could remember— even longer, really. And not just because he had a shit memory from all those rugby concussions.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll look beat up in all our holiday photos?” you asked him, speaking quietly since you were so close to his face to treat his injuries.

“Why’d that bother me?” he shrugged. “You think I’m gonna be lookin’ at me own stupid mug in photos?”

“Don’t say that,” you shoved him on the shoulders as he laughed, leaning back into the couch. “You’ve got a nice mug, if you didn’t get it all mucked up.”

“You think m’pretty then?” he cooed sarcastically, putting his hand under his chin and batting his eyelashes; you giggled and shoved him harder, this time knocking you both back until he was laying on the couch and you were on top of him.

“Yeah, pretty daft,” you replied, and he snorted.

“Fuck off,” he rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your back.

“Lemme go, need to get a bandage for your face,” you explained as you squirmed.

“Nuh uh,” he denied your request, “not letting you up— sorry, birdie.”

“Tommy!” you whined through a laugh, struggling harder against him, but he just held you tighter and grinned down at you. Giving up, you made a pouty face and rested your chin on his chest. He mimicked your expression, mocking you until you frowned for real and gave up, turning your face again to lay your cheek down on his shirt.

He gave you a kiss on top of your head, and you let your eyes fall shut.

“Maybe just a little rest,” you decided, your voice already slurring— you were more tired than you thought.

“Mhm,” he agreed, brushing his fingers over your hair. “Just a little, huh?”

You nodded groggily.

“Alright— sleep tight, birdie…”

You were only tired because you’d been up way too late, packing for your trip to St. Ives with your and Tom’s families. Joint vacations were nothing new to the two of you— actually, his parents and yours had been taking trips together since before the two of you were born. There were pictures of you and Tommy, chubby little babies in your mums’ arms, riding on the London Eye; you’d watched a home video a few times where you were playing in the sand together at a beach in Valencia. You weren’t sure why they felt the need to fly all the way to Spain for beaches when there were plenty here in Cornwall… but, case in point, this trip was going to be a much more relaxed (and budget-conscious) one: a roadtrip across the county, a couple rooms at a beach-side inn, and some much needed time in the sun for the next week. Tom promised to teach you how to surf, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to figure it out anyways— but you looked forward to trying. Really, you looked forward to Tom’s hands on your waist as he tried to help you find your balance.

Truth be told, despite being secretly in love with him since you were fourteen, you never really expected anything to happen with Tommy. You were like brother and sister— even his parents treated you like a daughter, and vice versa— and you’d always been so close. There’s always that fear of confessing to someone you’re close with and ruining the friendship, but this was even worse than that. If you lost Tom, you’d lose everything.

So, it wasn’t sad— there wasn’t a lot of pining anymore, not many nights spent gushing into your diary about it and then crying yourself to sleep because he got a new girlfriend or something. It was peaceful now, the one-sidedness of it. You loved him, he didn’t notice, everything went on as usual and that was it. You kept dating other guys, though Tom never liked any of them, and he dated other girls that you pretended to get along with until they split after a couple weeks.

In fact, dating was the topic of the hour as you and Tom sat in the back of his dad’s suburban, trying to entertain yourselves on the long drive to the beach resort you’d be staying at.

“That girl Dani,” you remembered, focusing most of your attention on a sudoku from the book you’d brought for the trip. “She was fit— why’d you break up again?”

“Too clingy,” Tommy shrugged, not looking back at you; he was toying with the friendship bracelet around his wrist, the one you’d made for him at summer camp when you were eleven with blue and yellow and black chevrons. Since you gave it to him, you’d never seen him without it, which is why the colours were all faded and dirty now, and why you were glad you made it adjustable all those years ago… he certainly outgrew the original size by now.

“I thought that was Claire,” you recalled.

“Oh, her too,” he nodded.

“This seems to be a problem for you,” you noticed, “clingy girls. What does that even mean?”

“Means they get, like, possessive,” he clarified, holding his hands up almost like a motion of choking someone. “Wanna know what you’re doing all the time, want a text every half hour— it’s too much.”

“That just means they like you, Tommy,” you rolled your eyes. “You shouldn’t dump girls over that.”

“They usually dump me,” he corrected.

“What?!” you squeaked, before you cleared your throat when you noticed what your utter disbelief might imply.

“Guess they just get, I dunno, jealous?” he explained, crinkling his nose as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Jealous?” you repeated, looking away from the page in front of you for the first time. The way he was looking at you— head tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a small frown— you realised what he meant. “Of me?”

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled, “I mean, we spend so much time together.”

“But we’re just friends,” you noticed.

“That’s what I try to tell them!” he insisted. “I mean, I say that you’re my best mate and all but I don’t even think of you like that— c’mon, I’d never…”

You looked back at the half-solved sudoku, letting out a sigh that you hoped you could pull off as frustration with the number grid before you.

“Guess they don’t believe me,” he concluded, “or they don’t care.”

“They must think it’s bound to happen one day,” you posited. “That we’ll get together, I mean.”

“Yeah— but don’t you think if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened already?” he pointed out.

You bit your lip. “Yeah,” you agreed curtly.

"Hey— whatever happened to that lad with the crooked teeth you liked so much?" Tommy asked.

"You'll have to be more specific," you huffed, keeping your eyes trained on your puzzle.

"He had specs and a freckle right on the end of his nose," Tommy continued.

"Oh yeah! Frank," you reminded him of the boy's name. "What, did you actually approve of him or something?"

"Course not," Tommy scoffed. "Jus' wondering, 'cause you used to go on about him all the time— 'bout how he was so wonderful and all." Tommy rolled his eyes, just to make sure it was perfectly clear that he didn't approve.

"Erm, well," you stalled, "yeah, haven't talked to him in a while."

Tommy wouldn't buy an excuse like that from you, he knew you far too well. Leaning in, he titled his head to try to get a view of your face. "Did something happen with him?" he pressed, and you swallowed.

"Yeah, I mean— nothing really," you shrugged, "he just got upset that I didn't wanna take things too fast, I guess. Called me a slag and threw my phone— didn't crack, though, got lucky there—"

"Diddy?" Tommy spat, his anger obvious on his face. He sat back up when you nodded, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "Shoulda told me, would've scat 'im down and beat his face in. Can't be talking to my birdie like that."

Your heart skipped a beat. His birdie.

"And throwin' your phone, too? Bleddy tuss," Tommy sneered, shaking his head as he looked out the window, like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you get especially Cornish when you're angry?" you giggled.

"Only twice a day, birdie," Tom laughed.

Did anyone ever tell you that it turns me on?

“We’re here!” your mum announced, and you looked up to see that the car was turning in to a roundabout driveway. Tom excitedly leaned against his window, looking up at the hotel. “Wow,” he breathed. “Look!”

He guided you to lean in right up against him, pressing your cheek to the glass so you could see the tall building. It wasn’t a skyscraper or anything— this wasn’t that kind of place— but it was at least ten stories, with white bricks on the outside and seafoam-green shutters on each window.

With the car parked, Tom and the dads were going through the boot while his mom ran to use the loo and you and your mom checked in.

You weren’t really paying attention, honestly, while your mom gave the woman at the front desk a credit card for incidentals and all that. The interaction only piqued your interest when you heard her confirm— “three rooms, then?”

“Yep,” your mum agreed.

“Three?” you repeated, looking up at her.

“Yeah— your dad and I, Gary and Marie, and then another room for you and Tom.”

You cleared your room. “Tom and I get our own room?”

“You think us old geezers wanna be kept up all night by your giggling?” she snorted. “Figured you two could entertain yourselves just fine, give the grown-ups some space.”

Before you could decide how to react to that, the opening of the front doors got everyone’s attention. Tom looked ridiculous trying to carry as many bags as he could— all of yours, plus his and his mom’s— and you snorted as you watched him waddle into the lobby with all of them.

“What floor are we on?” he asked, the strain in his voice apparent and hilarious.

“Ten,” you informed him, and he groaned.

“Kidding! Three,” you chuckled, “and there’s a lift.”

“Aw, Jesus,” Tom grumbled as he walked past you, struggling under the weight of the bags. “You’re tryin’ to kill me, birdie.”

“I didn’t tell you to carry all those,” you rolled your eyes, looking at the concierge again as Tom turned the corner to find the lift.

“Is that your boyfriend?” she asked, continuing before you could answer. “You two are adorable.”

“O-oh, er— no, actually,” you stammered, “just a friend.”

“Oh!” she mumbled. “I see, my apologies.”

You looked down at your phone for just a second, only to hear your mom make a strange noise— a little giggle, and you saw her and the woman at the desk looking at each other. “What?” you asked your mum.

“Nothing, dear,” she dismissed.

“What?!” you hissed, groaning when she hid a cheeky smile but said nothing. “You’re so weird sometimes, mum…”

“Anyhoo,” the concierge mumbled, “you’re all ready to go! Three king bed rooms, third floor, ocean view—”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, “all the rooms have a king bed?” She nodded. “Just a king bed?”

“Well… there’s a couch,” she offered.

You deflated slightly. “That might be a little strange.”

“Oh,” she hummed, “well, I could change your room if you’d like. But they won’t be connected anymore…”

“That’s fine,” you shook your head.

“Okay, there’s a room with two twins across the hall,” she explained, reading from her computer screen.

Ugh, a twin was gonna be uncomfortable, but so would just one bed. “That’s fine, thank you.”

She clicked around on her keyboard for a bit, and right as she looked up at you again, Tom appeared from around the corner again. “All done,” she announced, “I’ve changed your room for you!”

“You what?” Tom choked.

“She’s just changed our room for us,” you explained to him.

“Ah god,” he panted, laying his head against the wall while he caught his breath. “Birdie, I just put all the bags away…”

You sighed, and the woman piped up again. “I could still change it back for you, if the bags are too much trouble.”

“Please,” Tom breathed, and she nodded and started up with the keyboard again. Rolling your eyes, you brushed past Tom flippantly.

“I’m gonna change,” you announced.

“Goin’ up to the room?” he asked.

“No, I was going to strip in the hallway and hope nobody walked through,” you replied snarkily.

“I was just gonna give you the key, birdie,” he smirked, pulling the plastic card out of his pocket. You chewed your lip, regretting being so rude.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from him and moving along to the lift.

You’d only brought one swimsuit, the new one you’d bought just for this. Maybe you’d had this crazy idea somewhere in the back of your mind that if you wore a tight little bikini, you’d finally get Tom’s attention and he’d stop seeing you just as the little girl he’d grown up with. If you’d been a little less emotional and a touch more logical, you would’ve checked the weather first.

Yes, it was a beach, but it was still an English beach… the sky was grey and cloudy, and without sunlight, the ocean breeze was less refreshing and more chilly. Very chilly, in fact, when you had hardly anything on like this. You were trying so hard to act natural, to lay there on that chair on the beach and look as gorgeous as possible for whenever Tom came out, but it was so cold… every few seconds you were tensing up your jaw to try to fight off a shiver.

He came down a couple minutes later, wearing his swim trunks, but since he was apparently smarter than you, he was also wearing a half-zip jumper and a t-shirt underneath. You pretended not to see him coming and laid still, only reacting to his presence with a polite wave when he was too close to ignore.

“Not gonna get much of a tan in this weather,” he noticed with a laugh as he sat next to you.

“I’m not tanning, I’m… relaxing,” you explained.

“Want me jumper, birdie?” he offered. “You look freezing.”

“I-I’m fine,” you insisted, but your teeth chattered. Next thing you knew, he was peeling it off over his head anyways— his shirt stuck to it and started to lift, too, exposing his stomach. He managed to get the jumper off, though, and pulled it down over your face as you laughed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Tommy, stop it,” you whined, batting his arms away so you could put the garment on yourself— he’d been trying to force it on you and accidentally trapped your face in one of the sleeves.

When you finally navigated your limbs through the borrowed sweater, popping your face out and breathing in a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck inside the cotton for a moment, you saw him looking at you… different. Just a little different, but different nonetheless. You wrinkled your eyebrows together at him, and he shook his head with a little laugh, and it was all back to normal again. “Should keep you warm,” he mumbled, turning back to the view of the ocean and bringing his feet up onto the chair.

“Thanks,” you nodded, watching him lift his hands up behind his head and sigh.

For a while, you two laid there in silence, the sound of the ocean waves and seabirds like a quiet, slow song. If you weren't thinking constantly about whether or not Tom was looking at you, you might've been able to relax enough to fall asleep. Apparently Tom wasn't all in his head because he dozed off within a couple minutes, and after that, you decided to get up and explore the beach a bit. There were little shops dotted here and there, a gelato stand, a cosy open-air pub playing music over their speakers.

You stopped to watch some boys playing volleyball on the beach, and one of them seemed to notice you staring— and he smiled at you, just before he served; you had to be careful not to make yourself look stupid by suddenly smiling down at the sand and toying with your hair, but you desperately wanted to. He was cute, and tall and, you know, shirtless. They all were, but he probably looked the best that way of any of them.

He ended the round with a spike right beside the net, and his side of the court cheered while the others groaned and complained to each other. You clapped for them, and the boy looked at you again; he said something to his friends, and with the ball still under his arm, he jogged over toward you.

"Hey," he greeted with a sideways, pearly-white smile.

"Hi," you returned.

"Did you like watching us play?" he asked, glancing back at the net for a second.

"Yeah, you're really good," you nodded. "Are you a real team or somethin'?"

"No, god no," he laughed, "we just play for fun. Not many sandy beaches to play at in London."

"Oh, you're visiting from London? What part?"

"Southeast," he replied.

You nodded. "Oh…"

There wasn't much you could say to that because you didn't know anything about London; he chuckled, apparently realising just that. "I guess you're from around here?"

"Sort of— an hour down the way but, yes, I'm from Cornwall," you agreed.

“You’ve got an interesting accent,” he noticed with a smirk. “It’s cute, actually.”

“Oh, y’think?” you smiled shyly. “Always heard growing up that a Cornish accent made me sound like a dumb farmer or somethin’.”

“It works on you, though,” he decided.

"Oi! Come back and serve!" one of the boys by the net called, and your new friend turned his head around.

"Go on without me," he told them, tossing the ball over. "I'm talking to, er…"

He looked back at you, and you stammered out your name; he repeated it back to you with a smile.

"I'm Devon," he told you.

"Well, hi, Devon," you smiled.

Aaaaand, just in time, you heard Tom’s voice calling after you: “Birdie!” he shouted from down the beach, and you turned and sighed as you waved back.

In a moment, Tom was beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.

"Where'd you run off to, my lover?" Tommy asked with a tilted smile, but he didn't give you a chance to answer before he looked over at the other young man and back at you. "Who's the emmet?"

"My name's Devon, not Emmett," the Londoner corrected, and you hoped your polite laugh would break the tension.

"No, Devon, 'emmet' is Cornish," you explained. "It's what we call tourists."

Except, ‘incomer’ is what you call tourists. Emmet is what you call annoying tourists. And you knew Tom was annoyed by him because he was hitting on you.

"This your girl, then?" Devon asked Tom… a little straightforward, but that's just how Londoners are, maybe?

"What's it to you?" Tom wondered.

"Er—" you interjected immediately, "no, actually, Tom's just a friend," you coughed, knowing that even though it was a way to greet a good friend around here, Tom surely intended for it to be misinterpreted.

"Bloody hell. Can't tell what you people are saying," Devon grumbled, and you spoke up before Tom surely asked what 'you people' was supposed to mean.

"Anyways, point is— Tom and I are good friends, known each other since we were kids," you continued.

"Really?" Devon pressed.

“Yep," Tom replied with a beaming smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, "she’s been me best mate since we were wee babes,” he beamed.

“A bird’s your best mate?” Devon scoffed. “Sure you’re not bent?”

“I’m bent? You’re the one spendin’ all your time with a bunch of blokes with no shirts on, mate,” Tom defended.

Devon stepped forward and you had to jut yourself in between them to keep it from getting too heated. “Okay, lads, let’s settle down, then—”

“Be careful,” Tom warned Devon, and you jabbed him with your elbow as punishment.

“I said to stop it, alright?” you hissed at Tom. “Doesn’t matter, Tommy.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Devon snickered, and you literally had to lean all your weight onto Tommy to keep him from trying to dive right over you to pummell the bellend.

"Let's go," you informed Tommy as you scoffed at Devon. Wrapping a hand around Tom's waist, you guided him to walk with you back down the beach, away from the possibility of a fight.

Tommy could find a fight anywhere— even on the beach on holiday. It was a real talent of his.

"You're horrible!" you whined as you punched Tom on his side.

"What did I do now?" he groaned.

"You scared that boy off, he was cute and he was flirting with me."

"Exactly!" Tommy emphasised, and you rolled your eyes. "He turned out to be a wanker, anyhow, you heard him making fun of our accent, didn't you?"

"I think he was just making fun of your accent," you frowned.

"We've got the same one," Tom noticed.

"Well— just stop doing that! You always do that."

"Sorry, birdie,” he shrugged, not seeming especially sorry.

You sighed and decided to let it go, because it wasn’t worth the argument. “What’s next, then? Think I’ve had enough of the beach.”

“Pub?” he suggested, and you laughed.

“Hardly late enough for that, don’t you think?” you snorted.

“Okay, dinner first, then pub,” he offered instead.

“That’s better.”

There were a few pubs along your walk back from dinner, but only one that had the rugby match on; so, of course, that was the one Tom picked. It was almost entirely empty when you came inside, and since the match had gone to commercial break, Tom decided now was the best time to run to the loo.

“Order me something?” he requested. “Whatever you’re getting.”

You nodded and he dashed off down a hallway. Sitting at the bar, currently unattended with no other patrons but yourself, you looked up at the telly on the wall and caught a couple seconds of a car commercial.

“Can I get you anything?”

The voice made you turn your head away from the telly, and you were surprised to find a boy your age on the other side of the bar.

“Oh, erm,” you choked, “just something on tap? M’not picky.”

“There’s a stout we brew right here in the neighbourhood,” he suggested, “you might like it.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, “and one for my friend.”

“Great,” he smiled, bending down below the bar and reappearing with two pint glasses in hand. You watched him as he tilted the glasses and filled them from the tape, admiring his tan skin and longer hair— he had that surfer look about him, in a Cornwall sort of way.

“Aren’t you a little young to be tending bar?” you noticed.

He laughed, revealing some dimples in the process. “And you’re one to talk?” he shot back.

“I’m old enough to be served, aren’t I?” you challenged.

“Well actually, I was gonna ask for your ID,” he admitted, “but, you’re cute, so I decided to let it slide.”

You looked down as he set your drink on the bar for you. “Thanks,” you hummed. You tried it, giving him a nod of approval when the taste hit your tongue— it was pretty mild, and sort of grapefruit-y somehow.

“In town for holiday?” he assumed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and he clicked his tongue.

“Too bad,” he shook his head. “When are you going back home?”

“Thursday.”

“And where’s home?” he asked. “You sound local.”

“Yeah, I am,” you agreed, “about an hour north.”

“Liskeard?” he guessed, and you shook your head. “Launceston?”

“Closer,” you smiled.

“Bradworthy?”

“Oh, too far…”

“Holsworthy,” he grinned.

“Got it,” you nodded.

“Seems like it’d be easier to just drive up to Westward Ho! wouldn’t it?” he tilted his head.

“I try not to go anywhere that has an exclamation mark in the name,” you explained, and he chuckled a little.

“I guess that’s fair,” he shrugged, “and it’s a good thing you came here anyways.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because now I get to look at you,” he cooed.

You took a sip of the beer to hide your warming face. When you brought the glass back down, he laughed at you softly.

“Got some foam on your nose, my bird,” he warned you, reaching forward to wipe it off with his thumb.

“Oh, th-thanks,” you stammered, watching him put his thumb to his mouth and suck that bit of foam off while he kept looking at you. What a flirt! Do it again.

Tom came back from the washroom and sat on the stool next to yours, thanking you for ordering his beer for him before he took a large drink of it.

"O-oh," the bartender choked, and you knew that look— the ‘shit, you've got a boyfriend’ look.

You sighed. "Hey, um— this is my friend, Tom," you explained.

"Wasson?" Tom greeted him, nodding his head quickly in acknowledgement.

"Not much, mate," he replied, "Cade.”

“Tom,” he answered back as if he didn’t already know that, not going so far as to shake hands since Tom was holding his glass and Cade was holding a rag to wipe down the bar.

“She was just telling me you're only here for a spell,” Cade recalled, “which is a proper shame.”

You smiled shyly. “Oh, yeah, well, I wish our holiday could be longer, too.”

“Always the prettiest maids just here on holiday,” Cade nodded, looking at Tom. “You know how it is, don’t you? You’re from a holiday town, too, I heard.”

Not quite as popular as your current location, but yes, vacationers would occasionally appear in town. You’d never noticed this ‘girls visiting from up-country are prettier’ principle, but your eyes turned to Tom expectantly. “Uh, yeah,” Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I know how it is. And half of them have boyfriends back home.”

It made your heart sink a bit— what you would give to have one of those. Or to have Tommy say no, the prettiest bird’s right here with me now. Or both.

“But that doesn’t stop all of them,” he added with a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re awful, Tommy,” you shoved him lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, licking his bottom lip.

Cade gestured at Tom’s rugby union shirt— “You play?” he asked.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Tom nodded, “you?”

“I just watch,” he shrugged, pointing at the telly in the corner. “Cooped up in this pub all the time, anyway.”

“That’s no excuse,” Tom chided, “gotta get out there and get roughed up!”

“That’s what surfing’s for,” Cade smirked.

“Okay, now I’m definitely not going,” you shook your head. “I don’t wanna get roughed up by the ocean!”

“I said I would teach her,” Tom informed Cade, “now look what you’ve done.”

“Sorry,” Cade laughed, “you’ll be fine, and you’ve come at just the right time of year for it.”

“That’s what I said!” Tom agreed.

Oh god, were they actually getting on alright? Would Tom give his approval, finally?

You sipped your stout and let them go on about rugby and football teams for a while, letting yourself get your hopes up that Tom would actually like a guy who liked you— and sure, he was a barkeep in your holiday spot, not exactly the foundation for a serious relationship, but it would be nice to have a little fling without worrying that Tom would end up beating him up.

Tom was the one who made fun of you sometimes for being a virgin, anyway. He never meant it— actually, when he occasionally took the time to be serious, he assured you better than anyone else that it was perfectly normal and fine to still be one. But still, you weren’t exactly trying to hang onto it much longer. Tom told you to wait for the right person; but you’d been waiting for him for way too long.

Watching the match together, you and Tom put down a few pints and laughed at some stupid old inside jokes— Cade tended to stick around, chatting with you both, when there weren’t other customers to serve. You caught him glancing at you a few times, and you liked how you felt when he looked at you like that— desirable, maybe even grown up. You and Tom had been friends since you were little, after all, and since he treated you the exact same way he always had, sometimes you still felt little around him. But you weren’t. It was good to remember that.

The match ended— Cornwall won, thank god, or you’d be babying Tom all night after he drowned his sorrows in something stronger than the local stout. He still drank a little too much to celebrate, but less too much.

Enough that he had to go to the loo again, though, at which point Cade was suddenly right by you again. “Your friend’s funny,” he smiled.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “he’s not always that loud, but, yeah, he’s never been very subtle.”

“And he’s just a friend?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes,” you insisted, and you focused your tone on your annoyance and not your disappointment.

“Just checking!” Cade returned defensively. “How long have you known him?”

“My whole life,” you sighed. “Can’t remember a time without him. He’s just… always been there.”

Cade nodded. “That’s nice, wish I had a friend like that. People come and go a lot in a place like this.”

“I bet,” you offered sympathetically. “And your girlfriend? Does she come and go, or stick around?”

“What? I don’t have a girlfriend,” he frowned.

“Just checking,” you winked.

“Why, you think I should get one?” he raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “If you can find one…”

His eyes dragged over you, his smile fading slightly; you pretended not to be totally overwhelmed by it all.

“Cade!” a voice shouted from the back, and an older woman poked her head out of the kitchen as Cade turned his head. “Come back here an’ clean up!”

“I will, mum!” he called back, before returning his attention to you. “Listen, I’d better get back to work— but you could come by tomorrow? If you wanted.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think I’ll find the time.”

“Tom can come too, of course,” he added, leaning closer to you on the bar, “but… I’d rather have some time alone with you, if that’s alright.”

Reaching up to scratch your shoulder, you bit your lip to hide a smile. “Okay, yeah—” you set your hands back down on the bar when you saw the way he was looking at you, “yeah, I’d like that, too. I’m sure Tommy can find some way to entertain himself for an hour.”

Cade’s hand landed on yours suddenly, giving it a quick squeeze while he winked at you. And then he threw the rag over his shoulder and disappeared into the back. You pursed your lips and exhaled through them; it had been a while since you had butterflies like that.

Tom came back around the corner, leaning beside you on the wooden bar, and you giggled when you saw how red his nose had gotten from the booze. “Tommy, you look like you’ve stuck your face in blusher,” you noticed.

“Aw, really?” he scrunched up his nose, wiping it with his hand.

“You can’t wipe it off!” you laughed harder. “Cade’s gone to the back to work— wanna go on a walk, take a geek at the rest of the neighbourhood?”

“Sure,” he agreed, letting you take his hand and pull him along with you out the door and around the pavement. You walked in silence for a few moments, glancing at him once, before you just had to bring it up.

“So, Cade was nice…” you trailed off. You looked at Tom expectantly, wearing a hopeful smile, but you hadn't even said anything yet before he expressed his dissent.

“No, no way,” he shook his head, ignoring your protests, “not good enough for you.”

“What? Tommy, what’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Tom repeated. “Birdie, what’s right with him?”

“I thought you liked him!” you whined. “He was so nice to you, and you talked rugby for ages!”

“Was looking at you funny,” he shuddered.

“Well, I’d hope so,” you rolled your eyes, “doesn’t that mean he’s interested?”

“That’s what you want, creepy guys drooling all over you?” Tom snorted. “Come on, let’s go— I don’t want you seeing that sod again.”

You groaned, but let him drape his arm over your shoulders and guide you away. “You shouldn’t be so protective, Tom… this is why everyone thinks you’re either my brother or my boyfriend.”

“If it keeps the boys away from you, I don’t care what they think,” he decided. You rolled your eyes as he pulled your head down with his arm, enough that he could plant a kiss on top of your head. “There, now they’ll think I’m your boyfriend, how about that?”

“You kiss me all the time,” you laughed.

“Eh?”

“On the head,” you clarified. “You give me kisses on the head, doesn’t make you my boyfriend.”

“Guess not,” he agreed.

Halfway along your walk, you passed a park which Tom decided would be the perfect place to share a cigarette— actually, he was just going to smoke it himself, but you made him share.

“Remember your sixth birthday party?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, after a drag. “You tripped and sprained your ankle running in the backyard that day, but you stopped crying when we gave you your presents.”

You laughed at the memory. “God, I barely remember— but yeah.”

He handed the cigarette to you and you rested it between your lips. “Do you remember what I got you?” he continued.

“A Barbie,” you recalled, “wasn’t it? She was some little princess or something, can’t remember now.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, I want you to know that before I gave her to you, I took her out of the box and took her clothes off.”

“What?!” you snorted, making a cloud of smoke

“I had to know!” he laughed. “I put them back on and put her back in the box and everything first before I gave her to you.”

“Yeah, I think I would remember getting a naked Barbie, Tom,” you scoffed, and he carefully plucked the cigarette from your fingers and took it back.

“Right, well—” he stopped to inhale, and then let it out as he continued— “she had plastic panties on anyway. Wasn’t worth it,” he shook his head.

You dropped your forehead into your palm. “The fuck are you talking about?” you giggled.

“Just that time of night where you feel like confessing things, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?” you pressed. “Any other childhood toys of mine that you violated?”

“Took a geek up the skirt of a Cabbage Patch Kid or two,” he added, “but that’s about it.”

“Well, we all did that,” you rolled your eyes, and he grinned at you.

“Oh, I knew it,” he purred, “I think you were just as much of a pervert as I was.”

“Yeah? But you’re still a pervert,” you accused.

“Maybe,” he relented, “but at least I’m not a prude.”

You looked away quickly. “M’not a prude, Tommy…”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, handing you the last quarter of the cigarette, “you’re just picky. And you should be.”

He suddenly laid his head down on your lap, making you tense up a little bit and wonder where you were supposed to put your hands.

“Nobody deserves you anyway,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as he adjusted himself to get comfortable on the bench.

“Well, that doesn’t really solve my problem, does it?” you said, speaking a little quieter.

“What’s the problem?” he wondered sleepily.

You sighed, holding the cigarette in your mouth as you reached down and carded your fingers through his hair. He hummed and smiled a little. “Nothing,” you dismissed, and he started to breathe slower and slower.

You finished the cigarette over the course of the next however-long-it-had-been, absent-mindedly touching his head and playing with his hair, and only noticed that Tom had dozed off when you felt a wet patch under his mouth on your legs.

“Eww, Tommy!” you whined, shoving him off of you as he tried to wake up. “When I said I wanted guys to drool over me, this is not what I meant.”

“Sorry, love,” he laughed, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Think that’s our cue to go back to the room and go to bed, eh?”

He didn’t say anything before he got in the shower, so you didn’t know what to expect when he got out: was he going to suddenly realise there was only one bed? Had he already and just didn’t care? Were you supposed to protest, or act like it was no big deal, or what?

When he emerged from the steamy bathroom in his pyjamas— aka, just his fuzzy plaid trousers, the ever-present friendship bracelet, and the chain on his neck— he found you standing in the middle of the room, staring at the singular bed, and gave you a confused look.

“I guess you saw when you brought our bags up,” you mumbled nervously.

“Eh?”

“The bed.” You motioned towards it, and he wrinkled his eyebrows together.

“What about it?” he shrugged.

“There’s only one of it!”

“Oh,” he nodded, “yeah, guess so.”

“So, we’ll have to share,” you helped him reach the obvious conclusion.

“Oh,” he said again, “you think it’ll be weird?”

“I mean, I figure,” you shrugged.

“I’ll take the couch,” he insisted.

“No, Tommy, let me,” you pleaded.

“You jokin’? I’m supposed to let a maid sleep on the couch?”

“Didn’t realise you were such a gentleman,” you frowned, crossing your arms.

“Aren’t I?” he smirked.

You felt bad about it, but he was already putting a spare sheet down on the sofa while you were getting through your nighttime routine. Leaning out of the bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you caught a glimpse of him laying there on the couch with one arm up behind his head and the other holding the book he’d been reading as of late— one of those fantasy novels that were much too violent for you. He looked past the top of it to smile at you, and you popped back in to wrap up.

You were just wearing a baggy old t-shirt that was just long enough on you to cover your red panties, which you felt mostly not-weird about wearing around Tom, though walking past him to get to bed made you shiver a little bit.

“G’night,” he offered.

“You too,” you replied quietly, and he reached up above his head to switch off the lamp.

Sure, it was you who had worried about the whole bed-sharing thing in the first place, but that was only because you were pre-emptively worrying that he would worry about it. It was sort of a lose-lose: if he was against it, then you’d feel dejected, but if he was fine with it, it was another way for him to rub it in that you could hold him but never have him.

Still, now that you were alone in this big old bed, you couldn’t help but think that at least it was nice you could hold him… but he was all the way over there.

You chewed your lip, trying to stay quiet. You made it about thirty seconds. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Think you’ll fall asleep alright on that?” you wondered.

“Should be asleep in a couple minutes, once you’re quiet,” he replied.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mumbled. You made it a whole minute before you spoke again. “Tommyyyyy,” you whined.

“What!” he snapped.

“I can’t sleep, I feel too bad!” you pouted. “Just get in the bed? We fall asleep together all the time! What’s the difference?”

“Difference is it’s all night,” he explained, “haven’t done that since we were eight— and you kicked me in your sleep!”

“Are you seriously going to sleep on that musty old sofa, and leave me alone here in the king bed, just because you’re still mad at me for kicking you?”

“Not just that,” he mumbled, “you snore, too.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, “just come over, won’t you? I’m cold anyways…”

He paused as he considered it. “There’s room for me?”

“Tons,” you promised.

You heard him throw the blanket off of himself, and you smiled instantly. In a moment, he was diving into the bed, and you laughed as the mattress creaked; he laid next to you on his back, and you reached an arm around his torso while setting your head on his shoulder.

He smelled so good after his shower, clean and woodsy from his deodorant, and his curls held their shape despite being wet still.

“Should’ve known you’d be like a barnacle soon as I got in here,” he chuckled.

“I said I was cold,” you reminded him, hugging his waist tighter.

“Night, birdie,” he whispered after he kissed the top of your head. With him holding you, you were asleep in an instant.

It was one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly, like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes. You would’ve thought it was still the middle of the night when you woke up, if it weren’t for the sun coming in through the open window.

Specifically, you woke up because of a long sigh right by your ear, making you blink your eyes open quickly and start to stretch your legs out under the sheet and blanket. You were on your side, and Tommy was pressed right up on your back, his arm draped around your torso.

He sighed again, and you felt him shift around against you. Most importantly, you felt something hard and hot on your lower back. Eyes going wide, you jolted as you felt him rock his hips against you again.

"Tommy," you whispered, hoping to wake him up.

"Mm," he hummed, smiling against your neck, and you shuddered.

"Tommy!" you hissed, and he snorted as he woke up suddenly.

He pulled back and all but jumped away from you. “Shit, I—” he mumbled, sitting up as the bed creaked; god, his face was so red, he looked adorably flustered and a bit terrified. “I’m sorry, birdie, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you insisted, sitting up with him, “it’s not a big deal.”

“What’d you say? It’s not big?” he choked.

“No! Tommy, it’s—” you stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say then. “I know that happens to guys in the mornings…”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously, “happens when we’re in bed with pretty girls, too…”

Before you could wonder if there was something to read into there, he spoke again.

“I’m fucked,” he groaned, running his hand down over his face, “what’s the time?”

“Ten ‘til 9,” you informed him following a glance at the clock on the nightstand.

“We’ve got that breakfast soon, we’re supposed to meet downstairs in five minutes,” he recalled. “And I can’t get dressed ‘til he’s gone away.”

“How do you normally get rid of it?” you wondered, watching him look at you for a second before looking away again.

“Well…” he trailed off, clearing his throat.

“Well?” you pressed.

“Y-y’know,” he stammered, “it’s— er— fuckin’ hell, birdie, can’t say it with you lookin’ at me like that…”

“C’mon, Tommy, I know you wank off,” you rolled your eyes, “you and every other bloke on the planet.”

“But I can’t do it with you here!” he yelped, and a pang of self-consciousness hit your chest. Were you that horrible of a sight that he wouldn’t be able to finish with you nearby?

“I-I’ll leave then, give you some space,” you offered.

“Birdie, I’ll know you’re just outside the door, that’s not gonna help,” he frowned.

“Well shit, Tommy, where’dya want me to go? Fuckin’ Launceston?”

“No, shit, that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, reaching up and covering his face as he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “You’ve just got me all messed up— s’not your fault, I mean! I just don’t know what m’gonna do now…”

You bit your lip, glancing over at the flowery wallpaper on the opposite side of the room, then to the window and its view out over the beach. “I mean, maybe… maybe if it would help, I could…”

“Jesus, birdie, don’t say you’re gonna wank me off or somethin’,” he pleaded with a concerned tilt of his head, and you stammered as you tried to remember what you were going to say.

“No, I— I was gonna say you could…” you began again, “er— I mean, before, while you were asleep, you were… it was…”

“What?” he pressed, leaning a little closer to you, and you chickened out.

“Nevermind, sorry,” you shook your head, “you should just get dressed— nobody’ll notice it.”

That was a lie: if it looked as big as it felt, a family of four could go camping under the tent in his shorts at this point. “No, c’mon,” he pleaded, scooting a little closer to you, “won’t make fun of you or nothin’, just wanna know what you were gonna say. You know I can’t run down to breakfast with my willy tryin’ to jump out, yeah? Like, ‘hey mum an’ dads, pass me the eggs, then— don’t mind my fuckin’ blood sausage under the table—’”

You laughed, pushing him on the chest— but he just moved closer, again, looking right at your face. You felt oddly exposed to him, even though he should’ve been the one feeling like that considering the circumstances. “Fine,” you relented, “I was just… thought maybe you could— well, it could help you if you, um… just… pressed up against me, again? Like you were before? And you could, er…”

Dropping your voice to a mumble just above a whisper, you watched your hands clutch the spotted quilt in lieu of meeting his invasive stare.

“You could… grind on me, a bit,” you finally completed, so quiet that you barely heard yourself. But he was a few inches away— he must’ve heard you. Literally, he must have, because you couldn’t say it again.

“Eh?” he grunted, and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon, Tommy, you’re not deaf, are you?”

“No, m’just… you wan’ me to rub me stiffy on you?” he realised, tilting his chin down and raising an eyebrow. Leave it to Tommy to throw all the subtlety to the wind and just say it outright like that, ignorant to the way it made your cheeks burn and your throat catch.

“I-I mean, I don’t want you to,” you denied quickly, “I just thought it might go away if you did. Means to an end, right?”

“Yeah, means to an end,” he agreed, clearing his throat. “Just feel a little weird about it, birdie, I mean… it’s you. You know I love ya— don’t wanna be rude to you or, er, disrespectful—”

“It’s not,” you promised, “I’m offering— and it’ll be quick, right?”

“Er, yeah,” he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck again, “should be…”

“Okay, then, should we?” you asked, sheepishly raising your eyebrows as you looked at him.

“I mean, fuck, birdie,” he laughed nervously, “I think you know we shouldn’t.”

But you both already knew that you were going to, and the thrill of something so forbidden titillated you further.

“Lay down then, yeah?” he instructed you softly, and you turned back onto your side as you felt him press up to your back. His arm slipped around your front, the one with your bracelet on his wrist, and you could feel him breathing by the back of your neck as he brushed your hair out of the way. “This alright?”

You nodded, and he held you a little tighter; you felt it then, brushing up against your lower back. You were getting sweaty from how warm it was with him pressed up on you under the thick covers, yet you still shivered.

He hummed quietly, his hand moving down your hips so he could hold you steady. And he rocked into you again, more confidently, a shaky breath falling from his lips.

When his forehead rested against the back of your shoulder, you felt your back arch slightly; and then you could feel the ridge under the head of his cock, you could feel it when he moved in one, long stroke and you bit your lip, arching your back deeper.

“Shit,” he grunted quietly, and he started to move a little faster right after he said that.

After just a minute or less of that, you were beyond desperate to have him inside you, you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like— about how he would stretch you open, how he would moan for you as he filled you to the brim. If he wanted to, right now, he could just lift up your shirt a bit and pull your panties down without saying anything, slip inside you in one go; you were soaking wet, he’d slide in so easily…

“Fuck, birdie,” he breathed, “roll over.”

His verbal command was a bit moot, since his hand was already on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lay on your back. He hovered above you for a moment, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered; you’d only been waiting years for him to say that to you. You did it unquestioningly, and he slotted himself between them with a low groan. When he pressed his cock up against your aching cunt— through so many frustrating layers of pyjamas— he shut his eyes and tossed his head back for a second. It was so perfect, his face in bliss like that, the morning sun peeking in through the curtains and making his curls shine golden-blonde. He looked fucking beautiful.

A little gasp jumped in your mouth as he started to thrust against you again, each stroke of his hips rubbing right over your clit and making his chain dangle over your face. You almost felt guilty, for a second, with the little engraving of Saint Thomas right there, like he was watching you do this. “Sh-shit, Tommy…” you hissed, catching yourself before you moaned aloud when he rocked his hip harder against you and your whole pussy clenched. If only he could feel that now— if only he could feel around his cock how desperately you needed him.

He descended down upon you, burying his face in your neck. His hair tickled your cheek, and you fisted at the sheets to stop yourself from reaching up and holding onto him— that would be too much, too needy, right? It was just supposed to be a means to an end, after all. “Can I kiss you here?” he asked under his breath.

“Er, why would you do that?” you wondered.

“Just— thought it might make it go faster,” he justified.

“Y-yeah, Tommy, s’fine,” you nodded. Do whatever you want to me.

He latched on right away, a mess of lips and tongue and teeth all over your neck; everything in you fought to keep your moans down, because you didn’t want him to know how much you loved this, how close you were to coming without even doing anything… without even taking your clothes off!

“Are you close?” you asked him softly, feeling him nod.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, and his heavy breathing cooled your skin where it was still wet with his spit. “Just a little longer?”

“You’re not gonna give me a hickey, are you?” you whispered.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he replied.

“Just— make it quick, Tommy, we’ve gotta be downstairs soon,” you reminded him.

“Right, yeah, m’gonna come,” he promised, sending another chill over your body. One of his hands moved down, holding your thigh as he thrusted faster and faster— fuck, the headboard was about to hit the wall. Just as you looked up to see it slam once, you saw his free hand reach up and grab onto it tightly, blocking the impact with his knuckles.

“Tommy,” you breathed, an involuntary reaction to how deliberately sexy that was.

“Say it again,” he requested quietly.

“Tommy,” you repeated, and he grunted right against your ear— he didn’t stop moving entirely, just slowed down quite a bit as he rutted on you.

“Fuck,” he sighed, panting. You swallowed, feeling wonderfully strange knowing that must be it, that he just came— because of you. His weight sank down onto you, making you let out a little squeal from the air rushing out of your lungs, and he laughed quietly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, lifting himself up and hovering above you again, “didn’t mean to crush you…”

“S’all fine, Tom,” you promised, closing your legs as soon as you had the chance— before he could see that you’d soaked through your panties.

“Oh, ‘Tom’, eh? Gettin’ formal, are we?” he grinned. “Now that you’ve got me to bust in me trousers, we��re not so friendly anymore?”

“Shut up,” you laughed as you pushed him aside, swinging your legs off the bed so you could get up. “Gonna use the loo and then I’ll get dressed.”

“What?!” he croaked. “You kidding? Of course I get to use the loo first!”

“Not if I get there before you,” you challenged, jumping up and trying to race him across the hotel room. He beat you, but only by playing dirty— he ran up behind you and grabbed you, spinning you around as you kicked and laughed and squirmed in his grasp.

two weeks later

Moonshine on the bay had become a tradition on nights like this, when the warmth of summer was creeping around the corner, ever since you were both fifteen and in desperate need of some rebellion. Now, without the illegality and all, it had lost some of that titillating appeal, but you still loved going out so late and meeting him at your secret spot. It had the perfect view of the water at night, not that it was a particularly scenic section of the sea since it was mostly cargo ships and docks and all that, but under the flickering old street lamp and the tall field elms, it was almost romantic.

Tommy was currently still standing while you leaned back on your hands, brandishing the liquor he’d secured for the evening. “For you,” he offered you the opened bottle with a smile, and you took it, but waited for him to take a sip of his first. He did, and you saw his lips curling as he drank.

“How is it?” you asked, and he stopped drinking to cough a bit.

“It’s hangin’!” he grimaced. “But it’ll do the job.”

You took a sip while he sat down next to you, and made a face of your own. “Ah fuck! That’s terrible! Where the fuck’d you get this?”

But you knew what he meant when he said it would do the job— one sip was already warming your chest, and the next, though just as disgusting as the last, made you feel tingly at the tips of your fingers.

With your bottles halfway finished, you two sat up in the grass and watched the lights of ships go by slowly in the night. “Had a date last night,” you blurted out suddenly, just to make conversation.

“Really? With who?”

“You remember Jack Meyer?”

“God, I wish I didn’t,” he sneered, “what a knob.”

“Could you stop insulting all the guys I go out with?” you frowned.

“Stop going out with knobs and I will,” he bargained.

“Anyways, he was nice,” you announced firmly. “Took me to the cinema and bought me a popcorn.”

“What size?” he asked.

“Medium.”

“Cheap bastard,” Tom grumbled.

“Shut up! I’m trying to tell you that it was a nice date!” you yelped, pushing him on the shoulder. “We actually, um… well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”

“What?” he wondered.

“I mean, I tell you everything— you tell me everything. You told me when Sharon Caldwell let you feel her tits in eighth grade, and you told me when you lost it to Annie— what was her name again?”

“Annie Shaw,” he finished for you.

“Right… so, point is, I figured I should tell you what happened with me and Jack, right?” you wondered. When you found the courage to look over at Tommy, his expression was… intense. Almost angry, a little terrified.

“Don’t tell me you gave it up to him,” he pleaded, leaning in a little closer.

“God no! I just wanked him a bit.”

"You did what to 'im?!" Tommy yelped.

"W-well, I dunno!" you backpedalled quickly.

“Aw, birdie, you can do so much better than him,” he groaned.

“Okay, maybe so, but he’s the one I wanted to go out with. And he was nice and he made me feel— I dunno, pretty?” you mumbled, afraid to sound too girlish.

“Come on, you can’t go rubbing off any guy who calls you pretty,” Tom scolded.

“This isn’t just any guy!”

“Yeah, it’s Jack Meyer. In fourth year he swallowed a penny and it never came out!”

“Believe it or not, Tommy, it's not fourth year anymore,” you frowned. “Things are different. We’re older. I’m not a little kid— and I’m tired of being treated like one!”

He sighed slowly, taking another swig of the booze. “I guess that’s fair,” he relented. “Still… can’t stand thinking about you doing that to some guy.”

"Why?"

He seemed confused by your question, and gave you a look.

"Why can't you stand thinking about it?" you interrogated.

"I… I don't know…" He coughed a bit, clearly wanting to change the subject, but you kept staring at him as you waited for an answer. “I guess it’s just that,” he began again, “I worry because it’s Jack, you know? He’s a little aggressive with girls— or, he was back when I knew him. He didn’t… pressure you into it, right?”

You thought back to the night before, and how it all happened. “Erm, no,” you decided, “not really.”

“Not really? What’s that mean?”

“Well, he didn’t make me do it,” you explained, “but he was… showing me how, ‘cause I didn’t know.”

“Sh-showing you?” Tom repeated.

“He, erm, he took my hand,” you remembered, feeling your heart start to race as you looked at Tom closely. “And he put it… he put it right here.”

It was the liquor that made you do it; you pressed your hand up to the front of his trousers, feeling him getting firmer under your touch already. He jumped a little but didn’t stop you.

"He told me to take it out for him…" you continued, voice wavering as your whole body was suddenly shivering from nervousness, and started to open his trousers yourself.

“Birdie,” Tom gasped, and you looked up to his face again.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked him point blank. He didn’t say anything. “Can I keep going?”

His mouth was open slightly, and he was breathing heavily through it; he nodded. You unzipped his fly and reached in, navigating the opening of his boxers to get his cock out.

Of course, you’d felt it before, but you’d never seen it. It was as beautiful as a cock could be, you thought: tanner than the rest of him for some reason, flushed at the tip, still just starting to poke out from his foreskin with a teal vein running up under your palm. Biting your lip, you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around it. “H-he told me to stroke it, like this,” you stammered, moving your hand gently and slowly from the base to the tip and back— then again, and again.

Daring to glance up at Tom’s face again, you saw him watching your hand with a dumbstruck expression. You twisted your hand slightly as you reached the tip and he groaned. "Birdie…" he sighed— his voice wore some impossible mixture of arousal, confusion, scolding, disappointment, and desperation. It made your knees weak. Good thing you were still kneeling on the ground, so it didn’t make much difference. You were so sloshed that standing up would’ve been a bit of an effort, anyway.

“When I was doing it right,” you continued, “he’d tell me I was bein’ good for him… it made me feel weird when he said that, but good. You know?”

“Y-yeah…” he choked, hissing through his teeth.

It went on that way for a little while, just his panting and the crickets chirping; though there was clear fluid leaking from the tip of his cock, you thought it might not be enough, so you pursed your lips and let your spit dribble down onto him so you could spread it out with your hand.

“Christ,” he groaned, “Jack taught you that, too?”

You nodded, and he growled a little— the sound made your chest tighten up (as well as a few other places). His cock was starting to bob against your grip, and his breathing was faster and heavier with each stroke. "You're close?" you noticed, and he nodded, chest heaving as he stared down at what you were doing to him. "You can come, Tom. I want you to."

"Shit," he hissed. "Shit, jus' don't stop then."

And you didn't, in fact you moved your hand even faster, until it was just a blur and he was bucking up into your palm desperately.

"Ah, fuck!" he gasped, and come started to spurt from his pulsing cock, landing on his shirt and your hand. "Fuck…"

You watched his face as it tilted back, his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth parted in a little moan. Your hand was still moving, and his jumped up to grab your wrist and stop you. Then it was still, and silent, except for him breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

After a moment, he tilted his head down again and came back to reality; he instantly looked mortified. "God, birdie," he choked, "I made a mess on you— m'so sorry, let me get it…"

He tried to wipe the come away with his shirt, frantically cleaning your hand up as best he could. "It's fine, Tommy," you giggled.

"No it isn't, I've got your pretty hand all dirty now…"

Examining his focused expression as he wiped up the smears of come, you bit your lip slightly. You did feel guilty for making up that whole story about a date with Jack Meyer that never did— and never would— happen, but it worked. You’d never lied to Tommy like that before, but you decided to blame it on the liquor and not your desperation.

In the two weeks since your holiday, nothing untoward whatsoever had happened between you and it was driving you crazy. You didn’t even talk about it! You, of course, thought about it every day— well, really every night, when you touched yourself and tried to remember exactly how his voice sounded in your ear. That was what drove you to this, to getting drunk and making shit up for a chance to touch him.

"Kiss me," you said suddenly. He looked up at your face, and you just stared at each other for a second.

His hand dropped yours— it was clean now, or clean enough at least— and moved up to hold your face. You sighed slightly; his thumb stroked your cheek and he smiled at you.

He gently tilted your head down and met you halfway, pressing his lips to your forehead. Your chest deflated and your eyes fell shut. So this is what heartbreak feels like. It's not as bad as I thought.

"That better?" he asked as he pulled back, moving his own face down so he could look up at you with a tender smile. You nodded, willing yourself not to cry in front of him now.

You were throwing yourself at him and he was throwing you away. "We'll always be friends, won't we?" you asked quietly.

"Aw, birdie— of course," he cooed, pulling you into a hug. You clutched at his shoulders, digging your nails into handfuls of his ratty old Nirvana t-shirt.

He rolled back onto the grass and pulled you down with him, making you laugh and try to get away— but he wouldn't let you go.

"We'll always be friends," he promised again, "'cause otherwise who'd keep all those awful boys away from you?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes.

"I will," he sighed, relaxing his grip on you slightly. "I'm gonna ease up on you, I think. Let you date somebody if you want— even if he's a tosser. 'Cause you're right, you're not a little kid anymore. And it's not fair to you."

You swallowed, laying your head on his chest. You'd never actually wanted him to let you date someone else… you just wanted him to finally love you back. But maybe this was the best you were going to get.

“Go, Tommy!” you cheered from the side of the pitch, though he surely couldn’t hear you through all that.. rugby-ing. Rugbing?

Whatever— point is, you clapped and hollered anyways as you watched him run all over the place, narrowly dodging being tackled a few times. You winced when he got taken down from the side by one of the biggest guys out there. Tommy had a high pain tolerance, but you’d rather not see him lose a tooth or something. What a waste of a perfect smile that would be.

For all their efforts, Tommy’s team lost by just a few points; it was just a scrimmage, hence why there was basically no one else here but you and the actual team members, so you hoped he wouldn’t be pouty the rest of the day after losing. He didn’t seem to be, from what you could tell this far away— he was shaking hands and bumping fists, sweaty and streaked with dirt and grass as he chugged from his water bottle. It really should not have been as attractive as it was…

Before you got caught ogling, someone caught your attention: “Hey,” one of the players jogged up to you, and you blinked up at him blankly, not sure who he was. You’d definitely seen him before, you remembered his dreads and… overall massiveness. But you weren’t sure what he was talking to you for. “You’re here with Tom, yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” you smiled.

“He said you’re an old mate of his,” the player went on.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Sweet of you to come cheer him on,” he laughed, “even though it didn’t seem to do him much good today.”

You shrugged. “He loses a lot, but he always gets back up.”

“I’m Rhys, by the way,” he offered. “I’d shake your hand or somethin’, but I’m pretty filthy at the moment.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed. “Surprised you haven’t gone to the showers already, that’d be the first thing I’d be doing after getting that sweaty.”

“Well, I was gonna,” he explained, “but, well, I was afraid you’d be gone before I got back.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what that meant, and he continued on.

“Listen, I asked Tom, but I figured I should ask you… er…” he stalled as he smiled nervously. “Have you got a boyfriend or anythin’?”

“Er, no,” you answered.

“Issuh?” he laughed.

“Yes!” you insisted. “You think I’m lying or something?”

“I think it’s a little too good to be true, that’s all,” he explained. “Girl like you shouldn’t stay single too long.”

You kept waiting for Tommy to come ruin it— to come rescue you. You glanced over, and you saw him look back at you, but he just smiled and kept working on the laces of his cleats.

“So, I guess I should ask for your number before it’s too late, yeah?” Rhys continued. You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up at him and dropping your mouth open as you hoped for some words to come out.

“Oh! Erm,” you began, “well—”

“It’s okay if not,” he promised, “but, you know… I’d like it. So I can call you sometime or something— maybe I’ll have worked up the nerve to ask you out by then.”

Your cheeks were warm, but so were the backs of your eyes. You never thought you would miss it, Tom running up and putting his arm around you, shooting whatever guy you were talking to a glare that made everyone feel uncomfortable; you glanced over at him again, watching him chat and laugh with some of the other guys. He was just going to let this happen, wasn’t he? And so were you. “Yeah,” you finally blurted out, “sure— got your phone now? I’ll put it in for you.”

“Great,” he smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to you. “Wow, that went surprisingly well.”

“Are you that surprised?” you laughed as you added yourself as a contact.

“These things don’t normally go right for me,” he explained.

“For you?” you glanced up at him incredulously.

“Now, don’t give me an ego,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him.

You quickly held his phone up to take a selfie with your tongue sticking out, adding it as your contact photo. “There you go,” you handed it back to him, and he looked at it with a wide smile on his face.

“Aw, that’s rich,” he said, and you bit your lip. “I really should hit the showers now, but, I’ll call you?”

“Okay,” you smiled, “I’ll answer. Probably.”

He waved at you as he left, looking down at your contact in his phone one more time with a shake of his head, before disappearing into the little tunnel through the stands.

You told Tom you would wait for him until he was all done, but god, he was taking forever getting cleaned up. In fact, everyone else had left when he finally came out in his change of clothes and found you leaning against the cement wall outside the practice facility. “Fuck took you so long?” you groaned as he appeared.

“You know how long it takes to wash off after a match like that?” he laughed. “You wouldn’t have walked home with me in the state I was in.”

“Okay, fair enough,” you sighed, “can we go now?”

“Well, um— actually, I have to get my bag from the locker room…”

“Oh my god,” you whined.

“Don’t get teazy, I just have to pack up all my gear,” he scolded.

“I’m coming with you,” you insisted, “and helping you carry it so we can get fuckin’ home already.”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, starting back as you followed along with him. “Lucky for you, it’s empty.”

“Aw,” you faked a pout, “no sexy rugby boys to look at?”

“Just me,” he smiled— and fuck, he was joking, but it scared you for a second.

There was a little awkward pause while he guided you around the bend into the locker area, left surprisingly clean after the boys were finished; it was only Tom’s locker open, with his things all strewn about, and you sighed. “Look at the mess you made…” you breathed, starting to help him clean it up and get his things together.

“Rhys finally asked you out, then?” Tommy grinned, elbowing you lightly.

“O-oh, yeah,” you breathed, “erm, well— he just got my number, no date yet or anything.”

“Well, it’s a start. I didn’t want to give him your number for you, but he asked me for it— actually, he’s asked about you a couple times now.”

“You think he’s good enough for me?” you asked.

“I mean, I dunno,” Tommy shrugged, “I don’t know him that well. But he seems nice enough— figure you can decide the rest.”

You sighed, nodding a little.

“If he tries anything, though, you let me know and I’ll set him straight, alright?” he added, and you laughed.

“Alright, I will,” you agreed, kneeling down to get some of his clothes from off the floor and stuff them into the duffel. “Not sure how you’re gonna do that when he’s got a metre on you and maybe twenty pounds of muscle—”

“Shut up,” Tom scoffed. “You know I can take any guy down if it’s got to do with you.”

Your throat caught, and you stood up again. "Tommy, listen, I actually— I wanted to… talk to you."

He cleared his throat, looking nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah? You're all good, right? Everythin's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nodded, leaning back against the lockers, "I just… I was thinking about you."

He stepped up closer to you, close enough that your heart started to race. "Oh… what about me?"

"Well, about us," you clarified, "you and me— I want… erm…"

"Hm?"

"I just— you know how we sometimes…?"

He leaned his head in a little closer, waiting with raised eyebrows for you to get to your point.

"That thing we do, sometimes?" you started again. "I wanna… do it again."

He nodded, like he understood, but then paused and moved his mouth over to the side. "You wanna go to the cinema?"

You laughed, more out of frustration than amusement, and tilted your head forward to rest on his chest. "God, Tommy…"

"What?" he laughed.

"I— I want—"

You couldn't look up at him as you said it. You took a deep breath and tried to compose your bravery.

"I want us to touch each other again," you finally rushed out. You waited for him to say something, or do something, but he didn't. “Like when we were on holiday,” you recalled, toying with the hem of his shirt. “And that night on the bay…”

“God, birdie, I— I dunno if I can do that again,” he breathed, and you felt your eyes start to burn a bit.

“Really, Tommy?” you sighed. “I’m that… repulsive? Or is it Rhys? ‘Cause all he’s done is get my number—”

“N-no,” he groaned, “shit, m’not makin’ any sense. I can’t do that again with you because it’s too hard, okay?”

You looked up at him, knitting your eyebrows together. “What’s too hard?”

“Touchin’ you like that,” he whispered— even now, the way he said made your spine tingle— glancing down from your eyes to your lips and back, “and havin’ to act normal again. Not bein’ your boyfriend.”

Of everything you thought he might say then, you never expected that. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, even when you bit your bottom lip. A laugh broke out through your grin, and you had to cover your mouth to try to hide it.

“Jesus, you’re laughin’ at me now!” he lamented. “I finally tell you and you laugh at me! You’re heartless, you know that?”

“No, Tommy, v’got a heart— and it’s all yours,” you promised, standing up on your toes to peck him on the cheek. He gave you a confused look, and you laughed again. “You don’t get it do you, still? I’ve fancied you for ages— proper in love with you, really. Kept askin’ you to do all that stuff ‘cause, well, you’re all I think about anyways. Thought you were just doing me favours.”

After a pause, he finally laughed with you. “Am I a fuckin’ idiot, then? You’ve had it goin’ for me all this time and I didn’t notice?”

“You’re a little stupid,” you mitigated. “I think I was being pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, and what about me?” he noticed. “I’ve been all over you forever— kissin’ and huggin’ you, cuddling all the time— you didn’t notice that I think you’re fit?”

You shrugged. "You've always been like that."

"Yeah!" he emphasised.

"Ohhhh," you nodded, "hm. Okay, we're both a little stupid."

“Birdie,” he smiled, and your heart melted, because he’d never said it quite like that before. He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“You can really kiss me, you know,” you told him, and he pulled away just enough to look at you with an impossible-to-read expression. “I-if you want,” you mitigated suddenly, and he smiled at you, then laughed.

“Aw, fuck, Tommy,” you turned your head to the side, “you’re awful…”

He put his hand on the side of your face, gently turning you to look at him. “Yeah,” he agreed. And then he moved in closer and kissed you— properly, finally. You shut your eyes, your chest emptying with a sigh; his other hand held your face then, too, and you reached up to hold his wrists. Your right hand felt the worn-out old bracelet that he still wore, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit against him. He smiled, too.

“Tommy,” you sighed, reaching out and grabbing him by his belt to pull him closer. He pressed his forehead on yours, looking down at your hands working on the buckle shakily.

“Birdie, c’mon,” he gasped, “not here—”

You pouted a little, and he laughed.

“We waited all this time and you can’t wait until we get home?”

“Yes!” you whined. “I need you…”

“Shit,” he groaned, kissing you again— but just for a few very passionate seconds before he pulled back once more. “We’ll go home and I’ll do this right, I swear.”

“Why can’t we just do it here?” you wondered.

“Because if you told me some guy had taken your virginity in a rugby practice field locker room, I would kill him,” Tom frowned.

You laughed. “Fine, fine… let’s go home.”

Thank god his parents weren’t home. You didn’t want to try to be quiet.

He had you in his bed the second the door was shut, kissing you voraciously as he helped you undress and tore his own shirt and trousers off. For a guy who was just preaching patience, he was pretty hasty all of a sudden.

When all you had on were your panties, he set his arms straight to hover over you and stare down at you, looking a little dumbstruck. You almost felt self-conscious enough to try to cover your chest, but he smiled at you and you felt a little better. “You’re so… fuck, birdie, you’re pretty.”

It was a simple compliment, but it felt incredibly powerful when he said it like that. He was in his boxers, and it wasn’t too much more skin than you’d already seen while swimming with him and such, but it was different with his massive hard-on making a visible imprint in the patterned cotton.

Gently, he spread your legs, and tightened his jaw at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear. “Oh, fuck,” he sighed.

“I always get like that,” you admitted quietly. “Should be easy for you to fuck me, right?”

“Yes, yeah,” he agreed, “but m’not gonna fuck you yet.”

You frowned a little, and he laughed as he kissed you again.

“I told you I’m doing this the right way,” he insisted, “it’s your first time. It’ll hurt if I just go for it.”

He leaned back and sat up, bringing his hands down to the waistband of your panties and gently dragging them down your legs; you felt gooseflesh spread all over your body.

“Oh, darling,” he whispered as he opened your legs again, looking right at you now. You squirmed a little, but his grip on your thighs was tight. “I need you to tell me now if you’ve changed your mind about this… ‘cause I can already tell I’m gonna have a hard time stopping once I start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you were sure, you were so sure. “I haven’t changed my mind,” you promised.

“I won’t get mad at you or anything,” he assured.

“I know— I’m sure,” you breathed. Wondering if you should return the sentiment, you asked, "You're sure you wanna do this? With me?"

"Birdie, I've wanted to do this with you since I knew what this was," he smiled.

"And you don't mind that I've never…"

"No, birdie, I don't mind," he laughed. "Think it's perfect actually. Couldn't let any other lad be your first. Couldn't let any other lad touch you like this."

You bit your lip. “You were gonna let me go out with Rhys,” you reminded him.

“I let you give him your number. We hadn’t even gotten to you going out with him,” Tom corrected. “And I was acting fine as best I could but I was really jumpin’, birdie, thinking about if something might happen with you two— something like this…”

You whined as you tugged on his shirt, hoping to hide your face in his neck, but he pulled his face back so he could look down at you with a smile. "Tommy, please," you whimpered.

"Please, what?" he encouraged.

"Jus' need you…"

He kissed your neck again, making your back arch and your hands grab onto his shoulders, and pressed his hips down against you. You whined at the feeling of his erection through clothes, but opened your eyes in confusion when he pulled back again just a moment later, hovering over you. "Say my name when I make you come, yeah?" he instructed, and you nodded. "Try it on for size just once, why don'tya," he encouraged with a smile.

"Tommy," you smiled back, and he kissed the tip of your nose.

"That's m'girl," he praised, before crawling back down, kissing a trail over your stomach, moving his hand up your thigh.

He just kept his face right up close to you, watching his finger swipe through your folds, then watching it gently circle your clit. You whimpered, and felt your insides flex on nothing. Apparently, that made him want to give you something to clench on— he gently slipped his pointer finger past your opening, and you let out a long sigh.

“So warm inside,” he observed. He pulled the finger back out a second later, putting it in his mouth and humming happily. He put his mouth on you at the same time that he put the finger back in, along with a second; that was a lot to take in, and your back arched up off the bed instantly. He mouthed at your clit, swirling his tongue around while his lips created this wonderful pressure; you had to grab onto his hair, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.

Eventually, he did have to break away for a second. "Wondered how you'd taste," he admitted with a sigh.

"Well?" you prompted.

"Taste like 'eaven, birdie," he purred. "Sweet little pussy— an' it's all for me?"

"All yours," you nodded, and he growled a little as he dove back in.

The tip of his tongue slid right up from your opening to where your clit was swollen and throbbing— he pushed his tongue flat against it and you whimpered loudly. He started to really fuck you with his fingers then, rather than just letting the natural movement of your hips force you to ride them; they curled inside you, hitting a spot that made your own fingers curl into fists in his hair. You didn’t want to hurt him, but he didn’t mind getting his hair pulled, apparently, and just moaned lowly against you.

The pressure started weighing on your gut after a while, your pussy tensing up on him faster and faster until it was just bearing down on him unendingly. “Fuck, Tommy,” you gasped.

“C’mon, birdie,” he mumbled against you, “wan’ you to come. Go ahead and come for me, yeah?”

You called out his name one more time, and it all spilled over at once; he shut his eyes tight, letting you pull his face right up against you by his curls as your hips bucked and grinded on him. You sobbed weakly, and when it was suddenly too much, he broke away and pinned you down for a messy kiss.

It left you even more breathless than you already were. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glazed over and his lips and chin were a lot glazed over; he gave you a crooked smile. “Taste how sweet you are?” he purred. You wouldn’t call it sweet, really, but it still turned you on like crazy to hear him say it.

“Please, Tom,” you gasped, grabbing his shoulders, “you’ll fuck me now, right?”

He nodded, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Sure you’re ready?” he asked, laughing when you groaned and punched him on the arm.

“Course I’m fuckin’ ready!” you snapped. “God, Tommy, you always give ‘em all this rigamarole first?”

He shook his head. “Just you, birdie… it was always just you.”

Kissing you again, his breath changed as he reached down to push his boxers out of the way and kick them off to the floor. The way it felt to have his bare skin against yours as he lowered himself down was… euphoric. Warm and soft and smooth, and when he wrapped you in his arms, it felt like he could just absorb you entirely. You wouldn’t mind it if he did.

He'd prepared you so well that there was only one quick sting of pain when he pushed inside you— though just that was still enough to make one tiny tear roll down your temple, which he kissed away softly.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. You nodded. "I need you to tell me, birdie."

"I'm okay," you promised through a sigh. "It hurts a little, b-but please don't stop."

"You're sure?"

"Please!"

He pushed his hips flush with yours and you gritted your teeth, though everything in you relaxed just a moment later; and all that was left was the fullness, the warmth of him, the way his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered to you, and you bit your lip.

"I love you, Tommy," you mumbled weakly, and he planted one soft kiss on your mouth.

"I love you too, darling."

He carefully began to move, needing to reach down with one hand to keep your hips steady. Your moans were shaky at first, but got louder and more even with each movement.

"You're… so deep," you breathed. "Tommy, I— I didn't know anything could be so deep in me."

"Well, I am," he grinned. "I'm right… here."

He pressed down on your stomach, right on the spot where the tip of his cock reached— and your eyes rolled back. "Ohh, god," you whined.

"You feel it, love?" he cooed.

"Yes, yes," you groaned. "Fuck, Tommy, why didn't you tell me you had a perfect cock?"

He laughed a little, leaning down to kiss you on the jaw. "Guess it never came up."

"Does it always… is it always like this?" you wondered. "It's so good, does it always feel this good?"

He shook his head, kissing your forehead and then trailing down your nose and cheek. "No, it's not always like this," he answered quietly. "Not for me, anyway. It's never been like this."

His lips met yours again, and you reached up to weave your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. He groaned a little, moving his hips faster, and you smiled. "Do you wanna fuck me harder?" you asked.

"Fuck," he mumbled, "I— I could. Do you want me to?"

"I can take it," you promised.

Picking up the pace slightly, he held you tighter; and you felt each impact a little harder, the sound of his skin on yours echoing around the room. “Like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered— you meant it more neutral than it came out, it sounded proper pornographic the way you said it, and he smiled. “More, Tommy, please? Jus’ want more…”

He hissed but did as he was told, latching onto your neck with his lips as he let something a little more animalistic take over, making you cry out and hold onto him tighter. “Beautiful,” he grunted, “you’re so beautiful, birdie— you sound beautiful.”

“It’s just ‘cause you’re making me sound like this,” you sighed, clutching at his back, too overwhelmed by pleasure to worry about scratching him up.

“I’m giving you a hickey this time,” he informed you. “You want my mark on you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “always, Tommy— fuck, always wanted it.”

“‘Cause you’re mine, yeah?”

“Always,” you whimpered.

“A-ah, shit— when it’s time, I'll pull out, okay?" he offered.

"No," you whined, wrapping your legs around his hips. "Tommy, please, want it inside…"

"Birdie," he breathed roughly, "if you say things like that, I-I'll come too fast."

“Don’t care,” you whimpered. “Promise you’re gonna come inside me.”

“F-fuck,” he groaned, “erm— yeah, m’gonna come in ya, okay?”

You choked out the shortest sob of joy. “Please, please— fuck, I’ll come again…”

“Yeah, fuck, c’mon then,” he praised, “just say my name, birdie— I wanna hear my name.”

“Tommy,” you cried, feeling him gasp against your neck as another wave of heat spread over your body; feeling him flex inside you right as you hit your own peak was so perfect. You could’ve never described your emotions in that moment with words, but they found their way out anyways: you started crying, instantly.

“Don’t cry, birdie, shh,” he soothed quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “C’mon, darling, don’t cry—”

“N-no, Tommy,” you sniffled, “I’m just happy— I’m so happy, I swear…”

So he let you cry, and held you close to him; he didn’t leave until you fell asleep, even though he said he was just going to get you a washcloth and a cup of water and come right back. He played with your hair and kissed your face, and just talked about all the normal things you usually talked about— as in, everything. But this time, it was actually everything, no more hidden feelings.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but after one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly— like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes— you woke up tangled with him and his sheets. Turning on your side as best you could, you looked at his sleeping face and smiled to yourself. He woke up just a bit later, cutting your staring short, and smiled back at you.

“Top of the morning, my ‘ansum,” you greeted as you pinched his cheek. He laughed and batted your hand away, hiding his face from the sun under his arm.

“You kicked me in your sleep,” he grumbled.

“So it’s all over, then? Final straw, you’re finally getting rid of me?” you joked.

“Mm, I thought about it,” he snorted, making you laugh. He popped his face up again and started to kiss your face all over.

“Tommy, stop,” you whined.

“You can’t make me stop now,” he pointed out, “it’s one thing to get your best friend to stop kissing you, but your boyfriend? Nah, m’not stopping.”

You laughed, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him only making you feel more ticklish and squirm more. You only stilled when he grabbed your face and gave you a real kiss, and everything seemed to slow down quite a bit. You kissed him back, properly, reaching up to weave your fingers in his hair. “So, you’re my boyfriend, then?” you noticed when you broke away.

“No, I think we’re still just friends,” he nodded, and you laughed and shoved him on the chest.

“Might as well be, everything we did before sayin’ we were only friends,” you admitted.

“I’m whatever you want me to be, birdie,” he promised.

#tom (make up) x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #tom (make up) smut #make up (2019) fic #tom grant x reader #tom grant smut

6K notes · View notes

everythingwasnormalhere · 3 days

Note

Stan Marsh headcanons?

first i love my main au stan because he's so !! and because he goes thru lots of changes as he grows up,,

Tw for alcoholism, depression, s/h, attempted sewerslide, hospitalization...its stan what did you expect

Most popular stan hc ever: he's an alcoholic. But like,,, till he's like, 12-13, he only drinks in the mornings so it helps him get through the day, like antidepressants but bad 💀

When he's 12-13 some people his age start drinking for fun, and so he sees it's socially ok so he starts doing it too

Yeah everything is way less shitty in the moment, but when he's sober it's even worse than before. Oops

Well anyway his friends don't really notice he's doing this, sure they're kinda concerned when they hang out and he's getting drunk, but yk,, typical Stan it's not that bad

This is an obvious one but he's depressed asf

And btw. All sp kids have gotten something misdiagnosed in their lives, like this is canon the medical system in that town sucks

So Stan has anxiety, but it was misdiagnosed as asthma (haha not me projecting)

He didn't get it diagnosed right until he was in his teens

But he doesn't have it anymore

He also has insomnia and BPD

The amount of times he's split on Kyle is insane

Anyway about his depression !!

It remained undiagnosed for a Long while

It got better and worse and better and worse and yeah you get it

On the worst episodes he would spend weeks not getting out of bed

At the beginning he'd say he's sick but at some point he gave up and stopped with excuses

His friends (Kyle mostly) would check on him but he wouldn't really talk to them much (on another episode of: stan giving up on life!)

Also he would spend time with the goth kids sometimes, mainly when he was at the worst points

The goths were kinda pissed he would leave them every time he felt better, but Stan's kinda their adopted kid lmao they have a soft spot for him<3

Welp anyway he starts s/h-ing at 11-12

At first it's not really noticeable but soon it gets worse

He covers it with wristbands but eventually the wristbands don't cover it all

And so, after his parents find out, at 13 he goes to the psych ward for the 1st time

It's only for a couple weeks, but it gets him to get so much worse

Nobody at school knows what he was doing for those weeks, besides Kyle because Stan went to him first thing after he got let out

Kyle is Worried. btw.

He gets hospitalized 2 more times after that

Once at 15 after he attempts

And another at 16, after a huge ass breakdown in which he asked his parents to take him there because he was scared of what he'd do otherwise

People in town only know about the one of when he was 15 (it was big news)

Besides Kyle and Kenny, Kyle because Stan tells him every time and Kenny because,,,he's Kenny he just Knows

After the 2nd hospitalization, he starts taking actual antidepressants

They don't do That Much but they still work better than nothing

Short after the 3rd time he goes to the psych ward, he finally manages to stop s/h

And slowly he stops covering his scars, as they're a reminder of how he's healing :)

Since he's 14, he starts bleaching his hair every few months

Now it's closer to straw than to hair but whatever issok

It's also incredibly greasy, so much it's insane

When it's really really bad he wears a dark blue beanie with some pins of obscure bands and some his friends gave him

His clothes are mostly black, and the ones that aren't are still alt

He wears eyeshadow all the time

And his parents don't allow him to get tattoos so he and his friends draw on himself instead

He's still in Crimson Dawn, he's the main singer and guitarist :)

His guitar is red and he takes so much care of it

The same can't be said about its case, that thing's fucked up

He's also the one who writes most songs, it's become kind of a coping mechanism for him<3

They're not famous, but they're not completely unknown either - they've played in some cities besides South Park, and they have a bunch of listeners on Spotify

They're the kind of band that almost nobody knows but the ones who do are the most loyal fans ever

"wHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW CD??? You gotta listen to them Right Now"

By the way Stan is late to every practice

The days when he's not arrived at least 10 minutes late are almost non-existent

Same for school

At school his worst subject is definitely math

(He probably has dyscalculia but he doesn't have it diagnosed)

He likes music best obviously

He's also pretty good at history and English

Btw he has a musicals phase for a year or two

His favorites are the historical ones, like Hamilton and Les Miserables

His family life isn't the best

He stays at Tedrigri farms on weekends, the rest of the time he spends it at his mother's

Shelly's kinda physically abusive still, but not as much as when they were kids

Btw he fucking hates staying at Tedigri so most nights he cycles to Kyle's or Kenny's instead

Fun fact he has a scar on his side from when he was 13

The m4 were jumping a fence to get to this one abandoned house (Butters was grounded)

And when it was Stan's turn he got cut with the fence and fell

That scar is huge and he's super insecure about it

Another fun fact he plays Brawl Stars

His favorite brawlers are Brock and Kit

And in general also the ones with attacks like Shelly's and Bull's

He's bisexual :) and ultimately broke up with Wendy when he was 16

(one of the things that triggered that huge breakdown btw)

He also had so many gender crisis, finally he decided he's just non-binary (he/him) because everything else was way too confusing

Aaaand i think that's it? Tell me what you think :D

5 notes · View notes

thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Text

Mortal of Gold - Part 3

(Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza)

Anyone want my list of the characters as gods? There were a few characters that I couldn't think of like Ponk, so I just left them out. ANYWAY. Hi, how's it going? ALSO I CANT EDIT THIS DAMN POST AND THE SPELLING ERRORS ARE SO IRRITATING

Part 1 Part 2 TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please. ------- “They weren’t born… A mortal?”

A light wind brushed over your features, causing you to give a small sigh and roll over onto your side in an attempt to block the light from hitting your lidded eyes. It was nice and quiet for once… “(Y/n)?” A distorted voice echoed softly, causing you to flinch a bit. You opened your eyes slightly to see a silky blackbird sitting on the sheets beside you, a few golden trinkets laying beside it. Upon seeing your eyes slide open, the creature hopped up onto its legs and began making soft cooing noises, “(Y/n)! (Y/n), you’re awake!” Glancing around at the surroundings you had been placed in, racking your mind for any sort of familiarity but failing to come up with anything at all, even who you were. You sat up, slowly brushing your fingers along your ombre silk clothing before putting your hands on the sheets below your body, frowning as you didn’t recognize the bed as yours. “Hello…” You murmured softly, reaching your hand out to the crow who eagerly jumped forward to nuzzle your hand. The feathers of the bird felt… Odd. They felt more like grabbing at misty fog, but with a light staticky cotton texture that caused a buzzing sensation on your fingertips, “I’m sorry, my memory… Seems to be a tad faulty… Could you tell me your name?” “I’m Chat, Dadza- er… Philza’s familiar! I was a gift from Mumza, oops... Kristen, the Goddess of Void and Death.” It chirped, its voice having multiple layers in your head, causing you to shake your head a slight bit, “No, they’re not married, only parental figures to the souls that pass on to the afterlife or those they saved sometime before they passed on… I believe they have more of a co-worker relationship.” You nodded slightly, pursing your lips at how the creature’s voice sounded in your mind. It was unsettling and caused shivers to crawl up and down your back, but at the same time, it was incredibly calming and had a soothing aura. How that worked, you had no clue whatsoever. Brushing off the unsettling voice of the bird, you decided to focus on the name that caused a light to go off in your head, “Alright… Philza… I think I remember that name…” “Yeah! Dadza- Eck… Sorry. Phil, he’s the God of Survival and Crows! He controls not only every crow in the mortal land, but he also controls whether or not someone will survive a situation. If there is no way that the mortal can survive, he will send a crow down and have them guide the soul of the mortal to him! Then he escorts them to Kristen! He has gained the name Angel of Death because he works for Mumza!” You decided not to question why the crow called Philza and Kristen Mumza and Dadza, knowing that you’d probably find out later, but by the sound of it Chat seemed to be multiple children, “Okay… Makes sense…” You mumbled slowly, nodding your head up and down. With a sigh you slowly brought your legs over to the side of the bed, only now becoming aware of how large the soft mattress was. Lowlands! (Hell) You could probably fit six people who were ten feet tall in it with room to roam! Pushing yourself off the bed, you also realized how high the beautiful bed was off the floor, Gods, whoever lived here was tall! Behind you, you heard a small chirp, and you saw Chat watching you curiously. With a small shrug, you decided to pick the familiar up and hold it in your cupped hands as you walked out the door, “Oooh! Dadza never carries us like this, and Technoblade does only when he’s about to yeet us out a window!” “Yeet?” You scowled in confusion as you walked through the arched doorway, your bare feet padding silently on the quartz flooring, “I'm scared to ask. Technoblade? Is he also a god of some things? He sounds familiar as well…” “That’s its word for throwing something. Well, it yells the word when they throw something or get thrown, so I assume it’s yelling in excitement,” A deep voice spoke from in front of you, causing you to gasp and lift your head from the crow. The telepathic chirping and squeaks from Chat in your mind quickly formed the name Technoblade, so… You had a feeling that your answer was on its way past his

lips, “I’m Technoblade, or Techno, the God of Blood and War. It’s… nice to see you finally awake…” He shifted awkwardly on his feet as you curiously studied him. His appearance could certainly be described as godly if anyone asked you. His long pink hair was mostly twisted and tied into a braid with bits of golden chain and a polished golden crown adorned with rubies, garnets and diamonds. Upon his pale skin, dozens of scars of varying sizes decorated his skin in different areas, but they were displayed in an almost proud manner. Almost. When he spoke, his dark pink eyes hidden behind cracked glasses searched your form for any sort of injury, “I’m… (Y/n)... I think. I don’t know if this bird is exactly trustworthy in its information… Do you know where I am?” Techno snorted as Chat gave an offended squawk at your statement, “That’s very fair, to be honest. You’re in the Tundra of the Upperlands, and this is my palace. No there is no snow, I believe the person who named this place has never looked into the name or word Tundra, but it’s been like this for too long to change it-” He paused for a moment as he noticed you looking extremely confused, “Ah. Right. Desert. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh… Okay…” You frowned at the tusked male for a moment before shaking your head, deciding not to question it much, “Now, uh… How did I get here, and why don’t I remember anything about myself? Or, about you and this Philza guy, I was told about.” You lifted Chat slightly toward Techno as a silent indication that Chat was the one who told you about Phil. “That’s uh… Phil’s field of expertise.” He rubbed the back of his head with his black-tipped fingers before adjusting his crown, “I don’t understand much of what happened, and Phil will tell you what you need to know that will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he held his free hand out towards you making you realize that he was easily over seven and a half feet tall, “C’mon, I’ll take you to him and get you the answers you need.” His hand was extremely steady, you noticed as you stared down at it cautiously. Once you noticed that he didn’t seem to want to do you harm, you slowly shifted Chat into one hand and used your free hand to take the one extended to you, which you couldn’t help but notice, made Technoblade very happy, “Okay. Thank you.” The god held your hand in his calloused one for a few moments before beginning to lead you down the tan and white hallways that were turned a light golden hue from the rising sun. It was quite a long walk filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence, but you distracted yourself by looking around the palace curiously. It was obvious he was the God of War by how many swords hanging on walls and sets of armour he had placed on armour stands in the hallways. Eventually, he walked you through an archway that led into a wide-open room with multiple windows that had many crows perched on the windowsills, some chirping and singing some little tune in perfect unison while others shuffled around, seeming to do a little dance. You were quick to realize the whistling of one of the birds didn’t match up and noticed that it was coming from the man with the large white and green striped hat as well as massive black feathered wings dangling on his back, fluffing themselves up every so often. When you and Techno stepped in, the blackbirds started chirping loudly, losing the rhythm of the tune the winged man was whistling as Chat started telepathically squealing about… 2/4? Two out of four what? “Ah!” The hat-wearing male turned around and clasped his hands together upon seeing you standing up, “(Y/n), you’re awake. I was worried the injuries you sustained were enough to keep you out cold for a few more weeks. I’m glad to see I was wrong. I’m Philza, God of Survival and Crows, and I see you’ve met Chat and Techno. Pesky bird, I told it not to wake you...” You pursed your lips for a moment, analyzing the shorter god as the bird squealed out its protests. While he was shorter than Techno, he was certainly tall, standing roughly around six feet tall, his wingspan

probably double that for each wing! His blonde hair was long around his face but was pulled into a loose braid like Techno’s was, although instead of gold intertwined into his hair, it was silver. His outfit was made up of a loose green shirt and black pants, with a red heart-shaped pendant dangling off of a chain into the center of his chest. Why did that pendant… Look familiar? You slowly rose your hand up and clasped at the pendant around your neck, noticing how Philza smiled softly, “Technoblade… Said you could tell me why I can’t remember anything?” “You’re still wearing my gift, I see,” Philza gave a soft hum as Chat jumped from your hand and onto his shoulder, before gesturing for you and Techno to take a seat where he already had drinks and some form of cakes set out, but they certainly weren’t there when you came in. Upon seeing your confused blinking, he gave a soft laugh, “I’m a god, mate, magic is no difficult task for me, let alone creating some measly tea and desserts. Now, sit down and I will tell you everything…” - General - None Mortal of Gold -@generalalmond @binas-idea-vault @ohworm-writes

#philza x reader #technoblade x reader #techno x reader #yandere philza x reader #yandere technoblade x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt #dream smp #dream smp x reader #technoblade dream smp #philza dream smp #technoblade dreamsmp #philza dreamsmp #phil dream smp #phil dreamsmp #mcyt au #dsmp #mcyt god au

999 notes · View notes

tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik · 3 years

Text

Love at first sight?

Chapter 5

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Word count: 1340 words

Warnings: Language, suicidal thoughts.

prologue chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For I would always cling to my sword

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must fight the pain of my fault [...]".

-Heavenly Angel by an unknown author.

"Don't you have a life or something?". Warren teased Hank. It was 3:49 AM when the young man awoke from his slumber. "Not really, thanks to you". Hank's intentions had been good. To return the teasing only. But the purpose got lost when he saw Warren looking down in shame, shifting in bed as he seemed to try to make himself disappear.

It was a touchy subject for him, Hank had forgotten. He knew just how much he felt like a burden to everyone at Xavier's. It was clear Warren was not much of a talker himself. But when those sleepless nights came, where he would jump out of bed covered in sweat and breathing harshly after a particularly awful nightmare, that the idea of staying awake with his companion was more inviting than to go back to his made-up Hell.

Only then Hank had learned about the extravagant life, filled with luxurious items and exotic vacations Warren had grown in. Hank also found out about Warren's handsome but cold-hearted-control-freak father, about his loving but impotent mother, about what it was to have it all only for it to be having it taken away. The lonely days and lonelier nights that followed after, the age-inappropriate behaviours, one bad decision after another, and mostly, Hank realized just how worthless the "poor rich kid" deep down felt.

"It makes no sense". Warren said softly, looking down at the cup of freshly-made tea he was holding in his hands. "What?". The older man asked him while pouring some of it on his mug. "Me! Me being here makes no sense!", "I'm nothing but an inconvenience". Warren let out with sight. Although he was referring to him being at the mansion, the hidden meaning of it sent a shiver through Hank's spine. "Hey, stop saying that! You are NOT an inconvenience, Warren. You should be here!". Said Hank as he got closer to the boy, placing a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. There was some absolute concern in Hank's voice as he saw a glimpse of a tear peeking through Warren's eyes. "Oh! bullshit!". "You more than any other person should be pissed off with me!". "You're working extra hours on a lost cause!". Hank's heart hunched. It was true Hank had been depriving himself a lot so Warren could have the best treatment. Yes, he attempted to kill him and his friends before. But the more time he had spent with the kid, the more he had realized: Warren had been a pawn, manipulated only by the true villain, Apocalypse.

"Hey! Look at me, Warren." He said firmly. "Yes, you are right. I should be taking better care of myself. But I'm only doing so because I'm not willing to slow down until you're heald". He said, with such convincement, it made Warren believe there could be someone being finally genuinely kind to him.

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

"I- I was only, umm, you know it was just a joke, right?". Hank nervously stated. "Sure, man". Even though Warren seemed to pay no mind towards Hank's comment, his voice had failed him, having it come out on a lower pitch rather than his usual vigorous one.

in an attempt of changing the topic, Hank pointed at your still sleeping figure. "So... An old friend of yours?".

It was somehow painful for Warren to see you there, resting at the infirmary room connected to all those noisy machines. In the end, your near-death encounter, in theory, had been Warren's fault. Hank's question had rumbled within the blond's mind. You weren't friends. He didn't even know your name. And honestly, he was more preoccupied with the atrocious first impression he believed he'd made in front of you. "You are the biggest idiot on earth if you think she'll ever want to even see you after what you've put her through". Warren's inside voice scolded him.

"No". The young mutant finally answered. "oh! I see". Hank teased again. Even though what Hank was implying: The real reason You were there was because of Warren's attraction to You, was nothing but the truth. Warren couldn't stop the blush from tinting his pale cheeks." It's not what you think, okay!". "Well, your face says otherwise, Romeo". The older man was grinning at him in amusement. "Shut up!". Warren's effort of sounding threatening failed due to his face heating up impossibly harder. His natural porcelain-white face was now a deep shade of red, making his facial tattoos stand out even more. Hank was having the time of his life. While Warren was acting like a teenage boy, he couldn't stop the laughs from coming out. "You done?". Warren said from behind one of the wings he'd been using as a cover. "Hey, take it as payback from running away".

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For my heart shall always be in joy

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must behave just like a boy".

The atmosphere remained comfortable. After an hour or so, Warren fell asleep again, not after convincing Hank to do the same. Who after, some reluctance, finally gave in and left to his room.

"Wakie, wakie, sleeping beauty". A hoarse grunt came from Warren's sleeping form as Ororo was poking his cheeks to get his friend out of Morpheus' grip faster. "Come on, Dollface. You have to get out of bed! It's almost 9 PM!". "What the hell?" Warren shifted in bed, reading the big clock on the wall. "You little shit, it's only 9... AM!".

Ororo's giggles were resounding through the room. "Oops". "Well, now that your up, we might as well get breakfast. Don't you think?". He was going to argue about how unholy early his friend had decided to show up when his stomach gave him in. It had been more than 18 hours since the last time he'd eaten, which was why he decided to let it slip. "Fine! But you'll have to give me your bacon to make up for waking up a man who almost died in a fire at 9 AM".

"Yeez, you sure are a Drama Queen, Warren". Ororo was walking toward your bed, peeping at the monitors. "Hank said she was the one who got it bad". "Your problem was only exhaustion, which reminds me of: Hank told me, to tell you that you're free to go".

Warren zoned out the moment Ororo mention you. Under the morning's light, it was easier for him to examine You. Your H/C locks were stiff from all the dirt and ash from the fire; Your face, which had been whipped clean when you arrived, allowed him to scrutinize every inch of it. Nothing was going unnoticed. Even the tiniest of your scars located under your left brow had been seen. He was so lost on himself taking your features in he'd forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. "Earth calling Fallen Angel, do you copy, Fallen Angel?". Ororo raised her voice. "Uh? Yes, what?". "Dear Lord, you didn't hear a thing, did you?". Ororo was irritated but decided against scolding Warren. Him showing interest in people was an odd sight. "I said if you wanted me to get you your breakfast so you could spend more time with her before your appointment with The Professor?". He only wished his friend wasn't able to see his excitement from such an offering. "That would be ni-, wait which appointment?". "What? Your pigeon brain didn't register that either? The Professor said he had something to tell you. Be at his office at 11 sharp". After that, the girl stormed off the room while yelling something along the lines of "not being people's secretary".

It had been only then, as he stood in the middle of the room when Warren heard a muffled voice behind him.

"I'm I dead?" You said.

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #archangel x reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #xmen x reader #xmen #ororo munroe #hank mccoy

50 notes · View notes

fandomscombine · 4 years

Text

The Hargreeves Kerfuffle Part 1 : Disastrous Childhood (Prologue)

TUA Series Part 1: Disastrous Childhood

The Hargreeves siblings x Hargreeves!Reader (Familial Relationship)

An idea came to me at 2am after binging TUA S2 and rewatching S1 right after!

BG: The Reader is Number Eight. It follows how you fit into the structure of Season 1 and the family dynamic of the siblings.

This part follows when the young Hargreeves Siblings had their powers manifested and the development of The Umbrella Academy.

Contains: Sibling Angst and Fluff. Reginald being a crappy father but sometimes not really?

The series will consist of 10 parts. Where the reader would have a focused interaction with each sibling. (Eg. After this part, it would be Luther x Reader, then Diego x Reader and so on! –Yes Ben is included)

WC:2649

A/N: This is my first ever TUA fic and I’m doing a series. WOw ambitious I know. Anyways I hope you enjoy! And tell me how you feel about it!

>>MASTERLIST<<

>>THE HARGREEVES KERFUFFLE SERIES MASTERLIST<<

READ: [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

On October 1, 1989, 43 women across the globe gave birth despite them not being pregnant when the day began. In news of this mysterious happenings, Sir Reginald Hargreeves immediately went out of his way to find as many of these special babies. He has successfully adopted 8 of these children and you were one of them.

One might think that when a person adopts not one, but eight kids would have so much love to give but they would be mistaken. Sir Reginald Hargreeves—Dad, was not a loving father. It would be a miracle for one to see the man show any other emotion apart from anger. Sir Reginald Hargreeves was distant and treated the children like they were experiments that the dynamic felt closer to a doctor/patient relationship. The children weren’t given actual names, only to be called by their numbers based on the order Sir Reginald Hargreeves had procured them. It was only when Grace, their robot mother insisted they have a real name, were the children given them. And so, the children were:

Number One - Luther Hargreeves

Number Two – Diego Hargreeves

Number Three – Allison Hargreeves

Number Four – Klaus Hargreeves

Number Five – Five Hargreeves

Number Six – Ben Hargreeves

Number Seven – Vanya Hargreeves

And finally,

Number Eight - y/n Hargreaves

For 6 years, the only special thing about the children was that they were miraculously conceived and birthed within a day, the same day. However, on the 7th year , October 1 1996, more strange things started to happen to the children.

It first started with Ben at breakfast. Dad as usual is cold and strict more so in the early morning. ‘Sit up straight Number Six.’ He directed without even a glance up from his newspaper at hand.

‘Yes Sir.’

Beside him you place your hand on his and whispered, ‘You alright Ben? You look sick.’

He gulped. ‘Yea y/n.’ Wiping the cold sweat off his forehead.

‘You sure?’ you questioned, not buying it.

‘Umhmm never bett-----’

You expected vomit to come out but what happen next is something you would never though was possible.

Screams broke out everywhere.

You feel yourself being raised above the table. Looking down, you were 5 feet off the ground held by what seemed to be tentacles.

‘Take that!’ You hear some shout then a thud. Diego had brought down a knife to the tentacle that had suffocated him and in now laying on the floor covered in green blood.

The sight finally snapped you out of your shock, your fight or flight reflexes kicked in.

A quick sweep of your surroundings showed Five and Klaus on either side of you, they too are struggling with the ever-tightening grip of the monstrous arm.

While on the ground, Vanya and Allison are making their way to Ben in hopes of helping him control whatever all this that was coming out of his body. While Luther is fighting off the arms away from Diego who seem to have broken his leg from the fall.

Dad, Mom and Pogo are nowhere to be seen.

You move your head to the left, knowing that Klaus doesn’t do well in small spaces. ‘Klaus it’s okay buddy, Dad would find a way to fic this. Just breathe’ You choked out ‘Just breathe Klaus, everything’s gonna be alright.’

‘mmmm!’ That was Klaus’ only reply but you were thankful to see him to fidget less. He seemed to have taken your advice – how much of the second part of that advice be true, you genuinely don’t know.

You try to move your head to face the right towards Five but no dice. The arm was wrapping itself closer to your neck. ‘Five’ you call out, but it was barely a whisper. ‘five..’

‘Y/N!!’ Five’s scream was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

‘She’s broken a couple of ribs and sprained her neck. But’s she’s gonna be okay. Just needs time to rest.’

‘And how long would that time Pogo?’

‘She would need to say in bed for 2 to 3 months, Sir.’

You open your eyes and are greeted with blinding white light. Dad, Mom and Pogo surround your bed.

Grace tucks a stray hair behind you ear. ‘My baby, y/n. How are you feeling?’

‘Sore.’ You reply, noting the coarse sound of your voice. ‘How’s Ben? Klaus? Vanya?—’

Grace cut you off. ‘They’re all fine y/n. Though Ben is a bit roughed up.’ She says truthfully.

‘Number Six has appeared to have powers of summoning monsters with his body and he is currently under supervision.’ Reginald stated.

But something didn’t fit right. ‘But how did you calm him down? The whole fiasco back there was in total chaos?’ Voicing out all your thoughts and questions. ‘No one could get him to take back control, unless…..’ You couldn’t continue the thought. Your eyes go wide. There was no way. It was too harsh, but it was dad after all, he would do whatever means necessary to get what he wants.

Your dad smiles proudly ‘Ah yes. Y/n ever the cleverest of the bunch.’ You had observed that he had addressed you in your actual name instead of your number for the first time in your whole existence. ‘Unfortunately, I had to sedate Number Six. You do understand that it was the only way.’

You open your mouth to argue.

‘No buts, Number Eight!’ Ah and now we’re back to number, you thought.

‘I’ll have Grace by you side whist you recover and Pogo here would relay your recovery progress to me daily.’

He was almost to your door when he faced you again. ‘Oh and Number Eight, When you feel something different or unusual. Do inform me of it immediately.’ And with that he left.

‘Pogo? What does he mean by feel different?’ Your nerves go up, worried about your siblings. ‘Is anyone hurt?’

Pogo sighs, after much contemplation he begins ‘Y/n dear. Today’s happenings uncovered that there are stranger yet special things about you children.’

You nod, not wanting to interrupt but also wishing he would hurry up and continue.

‘Ben isn’t the only one who have gotten powers today. During the kerfuffle, Diego has shown skill with a knife, Luther immense strength and Five had shown ability to teleport.’

Once again you found yourself in shock.

‘Your father has gotten the idea that you children have varying power wish are “activated” so to speak when reached the age of 7.’

‘Haha-OW’ You clutch your side.

‘Careful y/n, try not to do sudden movements—yes and that includes laughing too.’ Mom says, caressing your cheek.

‘When can I see them?’

‘I’ll try to persuade Reggie to allow them for a visit dear. But now I need you to rest.’

Sibling Visits are limited to 30 mins a day, right before the bedtime curfew.

All your siblings (expect Ben who was still under strict supervision and is recovering himself) came to see you the following night.

Allison was the first one through your door and ran to give you a hug. ‘Y/n! We are all so worried!’

‘Aww thanks—OW OW OW’

‘Oops sorry’ releasing you from her death grip of a hug.

Seeing that movements still hurt you. The rest opted not to hug you, Klaus and Diego held your hand, Vanya is sitting on the edge of you bed, Luther gave you forehead a quick kiss and Five being Five, greeted you with the typical sibling teasing. ‘Glad to see you not drop dead in front of me.’

Diego showed off his leg cast and asked you to sign it, which you happily did so. Signing ‘Badass as always. -y/n’ beside Ben’s note of ‘Diego is cooler than Batman’

The 30 minutes consisted recaps of what happened the day before, the gushing of the boys showcasing their powers and debating on who’s the most powerful.

And just like that, the time was up and each had to go to bed. Everyone kissed your head for goodnights, even Five.

‘You know I love you right?’ His eyes softer than you ever seen before

‘I know’

‘You really scared me yesterday when you blacked out.’ Five had his tough façade down. ‘I thought you died y/n.’

‘But I didn’t.’ You reach up to wipe his tears away. ‘It’d take something bigger, if you wanna get rid of me.’

He chuckled. ‘Night, y/n’

‘Good night, Five.’

3 weeks had passed, and your siblings never failed to visit you. Over that time, Klaus and Allison had manifested their powers. Klaus can conjure the dead while Allison could ‘rumor’ people to her will.

Ben came by 2 weeks later. His color is back to normal, not like the blueish tint it had the last time you saw him. Though he still had a few remnants of bruises and scars across his arms and face.

‘I’m sorry y/n.’ He said leaning on your door frame.

‘Ben!’ You exclaimed. ‘I’m so glad you’re back up and running!’

Ben was caught off guard. ‘You—You’re not mad at me?’

‘Why would I be mad at you?’ You questioned, genuinely confused at your brother’s words.

‘Cause, Cause I almost got you killed. I am a monster.’

You sat up straight at those words, your ribs hurt a bit at the sudden movement, but you didn’t care. Your brother was blaming himself for something he couldn’t have controlled.

‘NO BEN!’

Ben jumped from your sudden outburst.

You motioned for him to come closer.

‘Ben…’ looking into his eyes. ‘Ben you are no monster.’

‘But—’

‘uuh uh I’m not done’ You held his hand in yours. ‘You are no monster what happened then was an accident, nobody knew, heck nobody expected powers to just show up. It was beyond anyone’s control. It took us by surprise.’

His shoulders relaxed.

‘It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened.’

He gave you a bone crushing hug. ‘Thank you y/n. You don’t know how guilty I was feeling.’ Voice muffled by your shoulder, which is now wet with his tears. ‘I kept thinking about the pain I caused you and I wasn’t allowed to leave my room even when I begged dad to see you and say sorry. y/n’

‘Shhh shhh’ Rubbing his back. ‘It’s alright Ben. What’s important is that we’re all here now. Alive, Safe and sound.’.

You still have a month left for recovery.

Only you and Vanya are the one left who haven’t had their powers revealed.

Dad had created a group called ‘The Umbrella Academy’ in which he trained your super powered siblings. He even given them codenames to go along with their newfound powers.

Number One - Luther Hargreeves aka Spaceboy

Number Two – Diego Hargreeves aka The Kraken

Number Three – Allison Hargreeves aka The Rumor

Number Four – Klaus Hargreeves aka The Séance

Number Five – Five Hargreeves aka The Boy

Number Six – Ben Hargreeves aka The Horor

With this new training program comes with the downside of spending less time with your siblings. Your traditional Sunday afternoon sister bonding time Allison and Vanya is basically non-existent now. Sure the rest of siblings still drop by to check up on how you’re recovering but it is not as frequency as they once were- you totally understand though, it must be tiring to be part of ‘The Umbrella Academy’ but girl were you still hurt and wanted more than anything to be a part of it.

So, you spend most of your time with Vanya nowadays. You didn’t mind, it is nice to have someone along. Most of the time Vanya practices her violin in your room.

‘That was beautiful Vanny’ you commented after she finished a rendition.

‘Thanks y/n’ Her face flushed. ‘Maybe someday I’d be a famous violinist!’

‘I know you would.’ You say truthfully. ‘And I better get the best seats at your concerts okay? Nothing short of VIP treatment for your favourite sister!’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Allison would get that.’ Vanya teased.

Placing a hand dramatically to your chest ‘uhh I am offended! I thought I was your favourite sister!’

‘well... you thought wrong.’ Vanya tried to keep a straight face but failed. ‘You y/n are the VVIP guest!’

‘Now that’s more like it.’

That night you were tossing and turning in your bed.

In the training room, huge boulders were being tossed onto Luther’s back. He currently had 3 on him. ‘More’ he cried. It was an impressive feat to see. A 7-year-old carry the what had to be at least 5 times his weight.

It was at his 6th block when his legs start to shake.

‘Straighten up Number One!’ Reginald voice came through the speakers.

‘I-I’

‘Fix your posture! And stop babbling!’

He was trembling all over, the weight was far too much and carried far too long for just a young boy.

Any second now, he is gonna be crushed by the boulders.

‘LUTHER!’ You screamed. Cold sweat was plastered all over your face. You were still in your room- but it all felt so real.

You look over to your bedside table, 9:07

Training would have started an hour ago. You had time.

You took the stairs two at a time, bursting into the training room. ‘STOP’

Reginald stood from his seat. ‘Number Eight. What in the world are you doing here?’

‘STOP! Luther is gonna get hurt please stop it--.’ Ignoring his question.

‘Number Eight, what are you talking about? Number One is doing perfectly fine!’ He gestured towards the front.

He was right. Luther looks fine. In fact it looked like it was carrying a light backpack instead of 3 boulders. ‘But- But I saw—’ Then it hit you 3 boulders. 3 not 6.

‘More’ You heard him cried out, just like you had in your nightmare.

You stared at Luther, how could this be?

‘I saw him sir, he is gonna collapse from 6 boulders.’

At this, Reginald took interest. ‘You saw?’

‘Yes, I-I must have dreamt it.’ You slumped against the free chair, defeated. ‘but it felt so real.’

‘Let me everything you saw, and don’t miss a single detail’

And so, you did. By the time you finished, Luther was with his 6th block.

It was exactly like how things went down in your dream. ‘No No NOOOO!’

‘Release him!’ Reginald called at the last second. Standing he faced you. ‘Now y/n dear would you please come with me.’

He didn’t speak again until you were both in his office. ‘It seems to me Number Eight that your powers have finally manifested.’

‘what—’

‘A slight delay compared to your siblings, but I presume that it was due to you recovering from your injuries that your body had focus on your recovery first then powers.’

‘What about Vanya? Would she have powers?’

‘It seems that Number Seven has no powers gained.’ Standing in front of you. ‘But no matter now, what’s important is that you’ve got them.’ He placed his hands on your shoulders. ‘You would do great things Number Eight. To see into the future is a valuable asset to have indeed. For this I shall name you Foresight.’

This was it! You own codename!

Number Eight - y/n Hargreaves aka Foresight.

‘I’m gonna be part of The Umbrella Academy?’ Overjoyed by your father taking pride in you that every other thought left your concern.

‘Yes Foresight. You will.’ Standing straight again. ‘However, your training would only start once you have fully recovered.’

‘Thanks Dad.’ Hugging him and for once showed the affection back.

You wish you could say that it was at this point where you and your siblings finally gotten a loving and healthy childhood. But you were wrong. Things only deteriorated from here on out with the Hargreeves household and by extension the dissolve of The Umbrella Academy.

END OF PART 1

READ: [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

Taglist [All]: @gruffle1

Taglist [TUA]: @herecomesthesun1969 @ultraviolet-m @winterierwriter @lordofthunderthr @alabaster1223

609 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: hehe hello cuties, before i get to the chapter, I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support and lovely messages you that you sent to me for the last chapter. as I said, it was one that was super personal to me and for it to be so relatable and emotional for you all makes my heart feel so, so full. these themes are going to continue, so please read the warnings cuties. as always, thank you so very much for reading my stories <3

Part 6

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, HARD fluff to HARD angst, some sensual-azz fuckin’ (muhaha), unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!), lil bit of breath play, nipple play (f), cumshot, mentions of food, changbin has a cute butt (that’s the tweet)

CWs: aftereffects of traumatic experiences, mentions of past toxic relationship, self sabotaging tendencies

Word count: 6.6k (remember when i said i wasn’t gonna write long chapters? wellllll...ooP)

Chapters

When you were back in high school, before you knew a thing about what love was, your Art teacher had given you an assignment: what do you think that love looks like? At first, all you had really known love to be was the kind that you shared with your friends and your parents, and maybe with your family dog. You had read about love in your favorite books and seen it in your favorite movies, but you had never really considered what it looked like. Obviously, the assignment was all up for you to decide, but there being a million and one things that you considered love to be, to put it to paper with your own hand was something different entirely.

At first, when you thought of love, you thought of the typical: hearts, hugs, the colors red and pink. But, this was too simple.

“What are you drawing?” You had sneakily whispered to your classmate.

She shrugged, and continued scratching away at her sketchbook. You had peeked to see what she was putting together, and for her, she had started to draw what looked like a house on the edge of a lake. The house was in the middle of nowhere and it was surrounded by trees of all different kinds and there was a single bench that sat at the edge of the water.

You figured, love can be a place, so you started drawing that.

Your pencil swiped over the paper in strokes big and small, and the lead rubbed off on the side of your pinky as you outlined the corners of your apartment building.

You thought, I love the people who live here, therefore, this must be love.

It made sense. People and places could make up love.

When you turned in your drawing of your apartment building you were surprised to see the variety of other paintings and drawings that the other students had turned in. One student had turned in a whole piece that had been drawn with oil pastel. It was a jumbling of colors: mostly red, as you had expected, but it also held streaks of gold, black and teal. You remember your teacher really liking that one.

Today, if you would’ve gotten that assignment, it would’ve been completely different.

It was a sunny afternoon when you sat at your easel with your pencil in hand. Drawing out the mere outline and rough draft, tears welled in your eyes. A long time ago you had promised yourself that if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it?

The sun filled your room in the golden hour of the day best it could from your frosted glass window. The warmth that the rays held made your whole body swell with a warmth, and it gave your shaking arms the power to keep going.

You brushed lightly over the rough canvas with your pencil, tracing out the lines as if they were the very memories that you had kept painted in your mind.

You drew a snowy night, not much unlike the ones that you had been seeing recently. You drew an empty alley, not lit by much light. You drew the way that the oil slicked in potholes mixed with the snow. You planned out the way that the industry of the city lit his back as he stared out into that dark expanse where you knew that darker figures were hiding. You drew him. You drew him on that exact same night that you had fist seen him: a dark outline, who would become full of color.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“What’s that?”

Changbin pointed to your easel with a sheet draped over it.

“A surprise.” You answered. “I know that I’m not good with surprises, but, are you?”

“I don’t mind them.” He chuckled. “For me?”

“Mmhm. Its not ready yet so you’ll have to wait.”

“I’m fine with waiting.” He sighed out.

You nuzzled closer into his bare chest, right up to his heartbeat. Both of you were admittedly a bit dewy in your sweaty afterglow, but this was of no concern to you. These past few days, this had been your preferred way to drift off to sleep. Even on the occasional times when the both of you would be too busy to make the time, when you finally could see him, it was everything to you. In his large and muscled arms, there was no place else where you had felt safer. You too wrapped your whole being around him with a feeling so close it must’ve been unreal. If you could hear the muffled little rhythm of his heartbeat, you were sure that he could hear yours.

“Soon, all this snow is gonna melt, and then I can take you to loads of other places. I’m just getting started.” Changbin’s airy breath tickled your scalp.

“Really? Taking me to all the usual places?” You mocked.

“No.” He said seriously. “I want to take you to places I haven’t taken anyone before. My secret places. I...you know...wouldn’t mind if you could draw them for me either.”

You giggled, “Ever heard of taking a picture?”

“Hey! It’s not the same.”

“Fineee. Okay, okay. I’ll draw them for you.” Your fingertips traced down the muscles of his back. “Maybe I should start charging if you’re gonna keep being like this.”

“You don’t do pro-bono?” He ran along with your joke.

“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll consider it.”

He tsked, “Could you please draw for me?”

You masked another adoring chuckle. “I do like it when you say please.”

Everything about the one moment felt so sickly sweet, it was like you must’ve dreamt it up. In between the swaddling of sheets, you tried your best to enjoy the one moment: it was just enough to keep the doubtful whispers away. After all that he had done, said, all the pain that he had kissed away, or compliments he had hushed into your ear, the creeping feeling that you hardly deserved it all would rear it’s head time and again, even when you didn’t expect it to.

The two of you were quiet for a moment as you fell into the serenity of just existing together. After a while, you would narrow your focus best on the way that his breaths would rise and fall and the way this his body heat would melt into yours under the mess of sheets that neither of you bothered to fix. He would use his thumb to rub reassuring little strokes into the back of your neck where he had you.

Your hand would fall down his arm, all the way down this wrist where his scar lived. Ever since you had noticed it, you couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time that you did, you were given a tangible reminder of everything that he had been, and was, to you. You rose the uneven skin to your lips to gift a little kiss to it.

Changbin tried his best to hide his giddy smirk at the action.

“Do you have to leave tonight?” You settled his arm around you once more.

“No. Not tonight. But, for the next few days I don’t think I’ll be able to. They put me on the matinee shifts at the theater. I fucking hate those. No one comes in at all so it’s like I’m just sitting there.”

“Wanna sneak me in some time this week? I should have a break.”

“I would but...I’d prefer to keep that job. As much as I hate it.”

“We could do something this Thursday? You aren’t busy on Thursdays as much right?”

“Ahhhh I think so.” Changbin rolled the two of you over, allowing himself to lean over top of you. With a sly smirk he lowered his voice to say, “You know, my ribs really aren’t hurting as much any more.”

“Oooh? Good to know.” You ruffled his curly strands.

“I’m trying to say that I can go for another round if you would like to?” He bowed his head to kiss lightly into your neck and the fading love bites that he had put there himself.

Your eyes wandered to your clock telling you that it was nearly 2 in the morning. If you had better judgement, you would’ve said no. But, these days, judgement wasn’t something that you took too seriously.

He kissed down deeper, and pulled at your skin just in the way that he knew you liked it. Changbin knew the ins and outs of you perfectly, as well as exactly what to do send you quivering under him. All he had to do was press his body into yours so you could feel his weight, and it made you fold just for him. He followed his kisses up your jaw where he then lead them into your bottom lip and over every angle that your mouth would crave him. He often didn’t mean to do it intentionally, but between your parted mouths, his tongue would sneakily find yours, and he would slowly slide it against yours.

“Do you want to?” He muttered between kisses.

Under the covers, his hand cascaded down your side in a way that tickled slightly, but also made you shiver.

He broke from his kiss to hold your eyes seriously. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I want to.” You reached up to hold his sleepy and puffy face in your hands.

Changbin said nothing more, but instead returned to weaving kisses back down your neck. Under your waist, you felt him angle up your hips higher and the heat of his tip teased at your entrance still slick with your arousal from before, and now renewed. He bowed his head down to your chest to pump himself with a few muffled grunts. After, he rose his head to hold your eyes with his own. The muscles on his arms flared where he held himself up, and those adorable little stretch marks in the corners of his arms moved with them.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

You melted under his compliment. No matter who many times he had said it, you still weren’t use to it.

“So are youuuu.” You said with a dreamy tone. One other thing that you had figured out about him was that returning such comments to him made him a flustered mess. It was utterly adorable for someone as stoic as him at times.

“Psh.” He scoffed, then lowered his voice once again. “Beautiful how I fill you up sweetheart?” Changbin angled your waist up higher, then spread your thighs, finally pushing them into your body to tighten you. He aligned himself over you, then pushed himself in agonizingly slow. “Beautiful how I can fuck you so deep? How I can m-make you...”

He had given up on talking, but rather thrust himself further into you with his shaking breaths and little “mmm’s” getting caught on his tongue.

“B-Bin...fuck, f-feels s-so good--”

He pushed your legs up closer to your body, allowing himself greater access to graze your g-spot. Your busy fingers found their way around his back to claw all the way down. He still relished in taking his time with you, and would never rush fucking you--it was as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you. You returned around him, tightening has he fucked in and out with his own pace. After a while of doing the same, his hand crept around your neck to give you a couple choking squeezes that made you whimper out like a kitten. He would never keep it going for long however, but rather indulged himself in the way that your gasps would remind him of how good it all felt. After, Changbin dipped his thumb into your mouth to run the pad over your tongue.

The tip of his teeth caught the skin of his lip which he bit into hard.

“You feel so good baby. F-feels so good on my cock. It’s all for you angel.”

An unrestrained groan escaped from your mouth as he continued and your orgasm pooled steadily. In and attempt to steady yourself you clawed back into your pillow supporting your head.

He swiftly changed your position, taking both of his hands to turn you on your stomach. Without a pause he lead his swelling head back into your pussy where he kept on going at his favored slow pace. Your face smushed into the pillow with hips raised in the air. The fluffy fabric muffled your helpless moans.

“Louder for me princess.” He growled.

With one hand he arched over to tweak at your nipples with force: twisting and pulling, then he wet his hand with his own saliva to let your skin feel the cold and wet sensation. His other hand he used to reach around and rub circles into your clit. He was gentle at first, but worked your bud harder and faster. Your knees and legs shook the faster he rubbed, and you spilled your loudest and most unapologetic moans into the room that had risen in temperature.

“Fuck...” He swore. Changbin allowed himself to quicken his pace inside of you. The action alone sent you spinning wildly into your orgasm: a tear of white hot heat that shook your whole body and turned your swollen bud into a sensitive mess under his fingers which did stop, even when when he knew that you had just cum all over them. The harder he pressed, the more wonderfully painful it felt, and you let your tears fall hot from your eyes to the sheet. You attempted to call out his name, but no words that left your mouth made sense.

He turned your body once more, using brutish hands on your hips as he pulled you overtop of the sheets to fuck you into the bed once more with your sweating back stuck to the comforter. Your body shook with your orgasm still, and you needily brought his lips down to yours to kiss him with your thank you’s as he milked himself out in your tightening walls.

Changbin was animalistic in the way that he finally let his hips snap over you, at last reaching his orgasm mere seconds after he had pulled out and jerked himself over you. Ribbons of his white cum came spilling out over your gasping chest and stomach and dripped lazily from his pink and flaring tip. He took in shallow inhales as he did, and kept rubbing until the very end and he had nothing more to give. Even as his hand dropped, you took his dick in your own hand to just twist lightly and ride out the last of his orgasm. He softened in your hand with eyes closed in his focus and came down.

The combination of your lust held in the air for a few silent moments, then he collapsed back down next to you into a blushing and exhausted mess. His pink chest shook, and his soft heather eyes found you.

“We should...probably take a shower right?”

“Probably.” You grinned.

Changbin leaned over to plant even more sugary sweet kisses on top of your lips. He always was one to admire his work, so he chuckled lightly seeing the way that he had properly covered you in his cum.

“I can help you clean that off.”

The bed shook and he rose to get you something to clean up. You wished that you could’ve moved to see him saunter around your room without a single piece of clothing on. It was no secret that he had one hell of a cute butt.

Changbin helped you out of the bed, finding that your legs had started to shake and betray you a bit more harshly than you had intended. He ran the water for you both, inviting you in to take the task of cleaning you to himself. He took the suds in his own hands to brush them all over your body and took careful and gentle attention to the more sensitive parts of your body. He giggled a little at the way that even under the warm water, your nipples would still harden when he ghosted his fingers over them with soap.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You scolded him.

He took care of the little bruises on your neck and collarbones, giving them kisses under the clear stream of water as if he was healing them. After he was done, you did the same and cleaned out his hair with your shampoo. He always let out happy little groans when you would massage his scalp. He still had a couple scrapes on his face from a few weeks ago, so you kissed all of them too.

Changbin’s favorite part was how he could mess up your hair with the towel afterword and make you look as ridiculous as possible. Of course, you would do the same. You would brush your teeth together, and dress somewhat all of the way back again. A while ago he decided keeping clothes at your place was a good idea, but you ended up wearing them more than he did. You blamed it on dirty laundry, but you really did just like the way that they would smell all tangled up in your blankets on your nights alone.

With bare legs, you would tangle yourselves all up in eachother once more, and not even bother to look at what time it was then.

As it had become his habit, before the two of you drifted to sleep, Changbin would kiss into your forehead “l love you. You know?”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chocolatey goodness wafted up Felix’s nose, and he let out a happy little squeal.

“~Thank youuu~” He beamed to the waitress.

He took a careful sip not to burn his tongue, then turned his head to watch the way that the snow had started to flurry outside of the diner window. Minho flipped the pages of his book and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Whatcha reading?” Felix said with a little tap of his feet under the table.

Rather than answering, Minho sighed out and closed his book. “Nothing now. If you’re gonna ask questions, then I’ll get distracted, so, nothing now.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Felix frowned.

Minho rolled his eyes, suddenly becoming exasperated over his new friend’s dramatic reaction.

“It was something that I’m assigned to read for one of my classes. It’s about economics or something like that. I’m kind of just skimming; reading because I have to....” He took a sip of his coffee. “Y/n should be reading the same book considering that we are in the same class...but I haven’t even seen you with it yet.”

You prodded at your plate of half eaten waffles. “About that...”

“If you think that I’m gonna give you the SparkNotes you are sorely mistaken.”

You writhed in your seat a bit like an upset toddler. “Come onnnnn, Minho, you know that I don’t have time for that, working at the library and such...”

“--More like stealing my roommate from me. I hardly see him at our apartment anymore.” Minho made his remark with a type of snark, but knowing him, he was still just as sarcastic.

“Yeah,” Felix piped up. “The three of us haven’t hung out in a while either!”

“...Sorry, I’ve just been getting...caught up in things.”

Minho cleared his throat. “I’m not saying that its a bad thing. It’s just something that I’ve noticed.”

Felix nodded, “Me too! I’m really happy for you!! So is Chan, don’t get me wrong. We haven’t seen you so happy and like, not serious in such a long time. Really, I’m so so glad that you have someone like him for a boyfriend.”

Your fork scratched your plate. “--Boyfriend?”

“Yeah!” Felix beamed. “Isn’t that what he is?”

Minho too held an expectant gaze.

“I-I don’t think...we hadn’t really talked about what it is that we’re doing...or are.”

“So you’re saying that he’s not your boyfriend?” Minho cocked his head in his confusion. “Well, you ask him and he’ll think that it’s a different story.”

“H-he talks about me?” You sat up straighter.

“Well, he hasn’t explicitly said anything, but the way that he never shuts the fuck up...” Minho suddenly became much more interested in his coffee.

“What? You don’t want him to be your boyfriend?” Felix looked just as confused.

In your hands, you crinkled up the napkin that you had resting on your lap. You hadn’t in fact, ever thought of such. Merely, you had thought that you loved him, and that you enjoyed being around him and that he had made you happy. Was it odd that the thought had never crossed your mind?

“And he hasn’t said anything about it either?” Felix leaned in. To his side, Minho nudged his arm in the most non-obvious way possible.

“...No?”

Your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“Af...after everything that happened back then? Didn’t you say that he like, confessed or something and you did the same? You’ve only been hanging out with eachother for weeks?” Felix pushed his cocoa away from himself to lay his hands flat on the table.

“I...don’t think that we should press the issue.” Minho patted down the boy sitting next to him.

It was the feeling that you had been avoiding for weeks: that kind of uncertainty and fear that you had pushed down so far after the night that it all came together, but you didn’t expect it to manifest like this. In your chest a knot tied itself together tightly and in a way that you couldn’t explain.

“I...just like what's happening right now between us, I didn’t think that he would want--”

Felix nudged Minho by the hip, motioning for him to let him out of his side of the booth. Minho rolled his eyes, but did so muttering, “I said we shouldn’t press the issue but here you go...”

Felix slid over to your side of the booth, nearly shoving you up close to the wall with how near he scooched to you. Carefully, he removed the napkin that you had scrunched up into your palm.

“Relax okay? You’re doing it again. Just calm down.” While his tone was sweet, you couldn’t help but find some condescending edge--real or not.

“Doing what? I don’t think that I’m doing anything wrong??”

Felix let you squeeze his hand tight, as patient as ever.

“Do you not want him to be your boyfriend?” He repeated. “But he treats you so nicely? There’s nothing to worry about.”

At first you were angry at yourself, angry at yourself for feeling the hot tears well up in your eyes in public,

I’m so fucking pathetic.

Secondly, you were furious at yourself for feeling anything less than the happiness that had made up your whole world for the past few weeks. You had worked so hard just to make something that made sense, and he made sense. Why did it have to be much more complicated than that?

“Y/n?” Felix bowed his head down with his softening gaze.

“F-Felix, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m just trying to understand so I can help you out with this. Clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you about, I don’t know, putting a label on it? If that’s the right word--”

Minho sucked at his teeth, “He’s too nice to say that you’re self sabotaging again. Listen, you don’t have to have the answers right now, we’re just saying you’re getting in your own way at having something that could be really great.”

Felix shot daggers in Minho’s direction.

“I wasn’t gonna say this, but Bin’s been going through shit right now with his family that I’m sure he isn’t telling you about. Someone tipped them off about what he’s been doing and they’re furious. He’s been telling them that no one knows that he’s tied to them when he raps but they aren’t listening. Literally when he goes to see you it’s like, what’s helping him forget all that shit. He cares about you a fuck ton, and I’ve heard about it all. He wants you to be his girlfriend. Believe me. Don’t know why he hasn’t brought it up yet, but...”

Felix took in a shaky breath, then turned his attention back to you. “Besides all that, I think that you should at least talk to him about this all. I had no idea that you felt this way. I’m sorry for making assumptions. At least, if you and him talk about it, you can figure something out right?”

You took at the papery and crinkled napkin and dabbed it harshly on your eyes to dry your tears before they had a chance to run further down your face.

“Why the fuck doesn’t he tell me anything?” Your voice wavered.

Minho folded his hands on the table. “Knowing him, he probably thinks that it would be burdening to you. Selfless dick. He thinks that putting that shit on you somehow makes him seem like a handful or some shit.”

“B-but I don’t feel that way?”

“Then tell him!!” Felix’s volume rose. “When you talk to him, tell him that.”

“What the fuck is this, a drama?” Minho laughed a little. “These communication skills are god-awful.”

“Oh fuck off Minho,” Felix rubbed your back to soothe you. “This is real life, and we’re here to help out Y/n.”

“That’s fuck off Minho-hyung to you.” The older boy stuck out his tongue.

You wiped your nose against your hand, then Minho threw another napkin from the holder in your direction.

“I promise that things will get better when you talk to him.” Felix nodded. “Talking always helps.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Thursday afternoon came, and the forecast had called for snow, but none had come. Rather, the atmosphere had turned to be dreary and grey the whole day long, and the temperature dropped so low that some local schools had to cancel classes for the day. Your university had decided to do the same. While you had been thankful and decided to spend the day working on your various projects, you couldn’t bring your hand to the canvas.

All day long you had spent figuring out what it really was that you wanted to say to Changbin, and you still hadn’t figured it out yet. Even you didn’t know what it was entirely that scared you deeply. But, you knew that somewhere you did.

Why her?

You could do better.

Isn’t she...boring?

You hugged your legs to yourself as you waited on your couch. The memories seeped into your brain like some kind of poison diffusing its way.

No, no. You’re wrong. You tried your best to banish them.

You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you?

You squeezed your eyes shut, and dug your nails into the fleshy part of your knees where you held them.

You don’t own me. You don’t have the fucking power.

Three knocks clicked at your door, and you knew that it was Changbin. Your chest shook with a type of anxiety that felt like prickling thorns. You rose to open the door.

“Fuck. It’s so freezing out there.” Was the first thing that he said. “I wouldn’t mind not having to go back out there if you are?” He slung his coat over one of chairs to your two person dining table. As soon as he was undressed, you were overcome with the desire to be as close as possible as you could get to him. It had been your safe place.

Changbin let out a little surprised noise when you launched your body at him, but he just as quickly held you back firmly.

“Is everything okay?”

For a moment you let his rosemary and cedarwood cast aside all the ideas and words that ate away at you.

“Can we talk?” You mumbled.

“Yeah, of course. Can we sit down? Get a blanket maybe?” You nodded and let him do the work of going back to your room to get back your knit blanket that he knew you liked best. He threw it over his shoulders them beckoned you to join him in his arms. You snuggled right up into his chest where he had tucked himself into the corner of the couch. “Want to talk about it now?”

With glistening eyes you tried your best to look up at him. His cheeks were still bitten pink from the cold.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents? Or about what’s going on right now?”

Changbin sighed and bit at his lower lip in his discontent. “Minho said something didn’t he?”

“You can tell me, you know?”

Changbin shook his head. “It’s not your problem to worry about, so I don’t want you do.”

“But you’re my problem to worry about. Don’t you get that?”

He sighed once more, then rested his head atop of yours. Where he held you around your arms, he rubbed gently.

“And if...being with me helps you...I’ll come around anytime alright? You don’t just have to come here.”

He laughed a little. “My place isn’t as private as yours is.”

You toyed with the fraying fabric of the blanket. “You know that I can be quiet if I need to be. Or if you just want me to sleep over, I can do that too.”

“I don’t want you going out of your way--”

“--I don’t mind.” You nuzzled a little deeper. “So, your parents are giving you a hard time?”

He tsked. “Yeah. It’s just...stupid is all. They care so much about what I do and don’t do when I left so it wouldn’t bother them. They’re trying hand out some kind of threats to me like they have the right to do so....they don’t.”

“What are you going to do?”

Changbin helped you up a bit higher up his body so your head could rest on his shoulder. “Nothing. Keep doing what I’ve always been. No one knows except the people I have closest to me. They’re worrying over nothing.”

You formed a “oh” with your lips.

“But, it’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

Already, you had forgotten what you really had decided to talk to him about. It had slipped from your mind just as quickly as you had let it arise. The two of you grew quiet, and you let yourself become overcome with the feeling and warmth that his body and the blanket gave to you. You wondered if he would’ve gotten mad if you had fallen asleep just then. It didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“As long as we’re talking about things, do you mind if I ask you something?” Changbin asked after planting a small kiss on your forehead.

“What’s that?” You said with a sleepy and cracking voice.

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but I just thought it would be worth it to ask, since we’ve been doing you know, this, for a few weeks now. You already know how I feel about you, I think that I’ve made it pretty damn clear, but, I was thinking that we could make things exclusive between us? Like, it just becomes me and you?”

Drip by drip, the drowsiness that had swept over your eyes dissipated.

“Would you be up for that? I just, it seems a bit odd to me that we haven’t talked about it yet considering...well, I think that it would be easier if we knew what we were so then we could, I don’t know, plan or something like that? It’s kind of a commitment, I know, but I want you to know that I’m willing--”

“Bin...” You pulled yourself up from his chest.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did-did I say something wrong?”

Who’s baby are you?

“You want me to...be yours?”

“Well, not exactly, you know what I’ve said before, but, I would like you to be my girlfriend--”

A sob clogged your throat. Now that he had finally said it, the realizations came flooding over you like the deathly winter chill.

“Angel, are you scared again? I told you that you don’t have to with me, I swear that I don’t ever want to hurt you or anything like what happ--”

“--Like happened what? Back when I was so fucking stupid to get myself locked up in something that I thought would be good for me? Why is it that you want me to be your girlfriend, huh? I-is it because I-I fall over for you? I can’t run away from you? Am-am I just a good fuck for you? What is it?”

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from? Y/n, you know that I love you, I fucking love you like crazy and I don’t think any of those things!! I’m not trying to restrain you our use you or anything like that, I don’t know why the hell you would think that!”

“B-because you might not now, but what about later down the line...when I get boring or you figure out that I’m not as exciting like I used to be or--”

“--What?! No! That’s not gonna happen!” Changbin reached out to pull you back into his arms, but you shook him off.

Salty tears filled the corners of your mouth. “The last time that I-I did something like this, I--”

“--Well this isn’t last time, this is this time, okay? It’s different! I swear to God that I’m not that fucking asshole. I get that you’re scared, okay, that’s totally understandable, but I’m asking you to trust me alright? Can you trust me?”

Part of you wanted to trust him. In fact, a much larger part of yourself wanted to trust him so bad, it hurt. But, a smaller part of you, a much smaller part of you still screamed into the abyss that he was the last person in the world that you could trust; and that voice, was much louder.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want to give you everything that I have. All my fucking time, my attention, hell, just minutes ago you said that I was your problem, can’t you be mine? Is that not allowed? I’m just...I DON’T get you!!!” Changbin growled out the tail end of his sentence and only after he had said it he realized it was much louder than he intended. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...please. I’m not mad at you.”

Your body had weakened, so when he had reached out for you, you let yourself fall into his arms.

“Angel, can’t you see that what I’m trying to do is the complete opposite of what you think I am? Yeah I mean, it would be nice to call you my girlfriend, but not because I’m trying to control you or anything, but because...fuck, you make me happier, made me feel like I’m less lonely in this fucking crazy-ass world. I want to be that for you and you only.”

Poisonous thoughts. Why were they even more alluring than the antidote that you had right in front of your face?

Your limp body mustered up the strength of push yourself off his chest. Looking into his eyes you felt numb. With all the care that he held for you, you felt as if you didn’t deserve one single ounce of it.

Why her?

You figured that in some parallel earth, you would’ve been able to have said yes. In that parallel earth, nothing bad would’ve ever happened, and you wouldn’t have been crouched in that alley with snow melting into your dress. You would’ve lived a normal life without pain and doubt. Maybe you would’ve met him there too, and you would’ve been able to say yes.

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but can you please consider it...for me? I meant everything that I said, but I...I also can’t wait forever.” You heard his voice grow thick. “I know that if...you can’t do it, or iff you don’t know, then I can’t just make it happen. There’s not a lot else that I can do. But at least I want to try.”

You could do better.

“I-I think that I need to be alone...right now--tonight.” Two more hot tears fell down your cheeks with a sting like a papercut.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, just--there’s things that I need to think about, I don’t..I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“No. I understand.” Changbin sniffled.

Slowly, your two bodies seperated, and the heat from his body faded. You thought to yourself, it wasn’t yours to keep in the first place.

You lead him quietly to the door where you watched him lace up his shoes and throw on his coat. His eyes had become puffy, as much as you figured you had looked as well. His grey eyes looked tired, just like the dreary day that you had spent all day hiding from. Still, he smiled.

“Y/n. I know that you think that you’re hard to love. But you’re not. If you take away anything from this, I hope you know that your past doesn’t define you, and that you can have happiness after it all. I want to be that for you. If you’ll let me. Only if you’ll let me.”

Your clogged nose made a horrible stuffed sound and you nodded. You had listened to his words, but had you heard?

He sighed with finality, then bent down to kiss at the salty taste on your lips.

“Call me, okay?”

You closed the door after him, then collapsed down the door. Your pent up sobs flew out of your chest with loud and ugly sounding sobs. Each one hurt more than the last to get out. You crumbled against the wood door, and didn’t even mind the cool draft from under the crack. Your world became a blur in front of your watery eyes and your hands shook as they took your phone from your pocket.

Words of self loathing filled your ears as you searched up the name, but it was the only one that you could think of in your blind emptiness.

If only things could go back to the way that they were.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The walk to his apartment was cold, freezing even. You had worn the shoes that you had been scolded for, and the coat that provided you with barely any warmth. You knew the way to his apartment well--it was almost muscle memory by now. Streetlights passed you overhead, and finally the snow that was promised started to drift from the heavens and before you.

Your hands cracked with the cold when you pushed the button to his intercom, and he buzzed you in without saying a word. You showed yourself up the staircase with empty sounding footsteps echoing against the walls. Your eyes had welled with tears once you reached his floor, but you blinked them away harshly. It was a futile attempt considering that he would see how red your eyes had become.

His door was cracked with old paint, and the number had been scratched off with age. You knocked one time, no more than that. Somewhere a tiny voice had hoped that he wouldn’t hear the knock at all, and figure that you hadn’t even come up, and that you could quietly slip back away.

But he didn’t. He must’ve been waiting.

He too looked to be a mess: his cheeks and eyes had puffed up and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore minimal clothing that hung loosely on his frame.

“--Jisung--”

Before you could say any more, he had leapt into you, and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that he could’ve rid you of all your breath.

“Baby, thank you so much for coming. Thank you so much. I’m sorry how I acted at the concert. I just missed you so much....I missed you so much.”

113 notes · View notes

azucanela · 4 years

Note

Dating korra would include

BEING KORRA’S S/O[GENDER NEUTRAL]

BEING ZUKO’S S/O | BEING SOKKA’S S/O

SUMMARY: life with korra from confession to marriage

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: no major spoilers

A/N: SOMEONE WITH T A S T E, i hope you don’t mind but i kinda just did the same thing i did for my zuko headcannons so feel free to scroll straight to the during the relationship bit if you just want dating korra h/c :D

also i have 300 followers now what, i literally had 200 like yesterday hi everyone <3 um i really need to start pulling out all the stops

GETTING INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

she’s a simp.

that’s it. thats the headcannon. she has literally liked you since she met you and has said nothing, but you probably know since she’s so damn OBVIOUS ABOUT IT

korra is very in tuned with her emotions so when she realizes she likes you she’s pretty okay with it, a little more flustered during your interactions, but after a while her goal is to make you feel how she feel which is flustered.

she has no shame though, she knows she is hot and she wants you to know she thinks you are hot

lots of flirting on her end, so naturally you kinda begin to think she is joking and think nothing of it

this was not her intent, and now that you are desensitized to her flirting and not reacting flustered like you did when she first started she is frustrated™

you were not understanding that she very much likes you

stupid

she hasn’t said anything outright to you about it though, which is the main reason you are like lol this is a joke, my crush fake flirts with me i am okay

spoiler alert: you are not okay with this it hurts ow

so now shes getting ridiculously affectionate with you, which, tbh, she always was, but not its RIDICULOUS, korra is out here throwing an arm around your shoulder, randomly grabbing your hand, kissing your cheek

shes trying really hard to get her point across like really really hard

like painfully hard

if she likes you its probably because your fun, like you really spice up her life and introduce her to new things and go on really dumb adventures and really important missions with her and you put up with her and wow now korra is simping oops

you’re also probably forcing her to stay healthy, since i honestly think that despite having such an appetite, korra will forget to eat and take care of herself sometimes.

she is so bad at drinking water i swear to goD

there are two situations here

situation one is where korra finally realizes that you CANNOT READ SIGNALS AT ALL and decides she going to be upfront with you about her feelings

she’s either going to just flat out kiss you next time she sees you or spill all her emotions, of both in no particular order

you’re like reading in your room in the air temple, just vibing, and you see her coming towards you with a determined look on her face and you’re like ??? lol okay

you go back to reading only to have her hand reach under you jaw and she brings you into a kiss and now you’re like LOL OKAY

you honestly think that this is just another one of her stunts to get you flustered and means nothing

stoopid

and then she pulls apart and just starts spilling her feelings and you’re like :O omg me too

and she’s like, “great, we’re dating now.” and suddenly she’s kissing you again, and between kisses you’re like, “im sorry what?”

“you heard me. do you have a problem with that?”

you just kiss her again

situation two is where you get sick of her and realize woah she may or may not be in love with you and so you confront her, and now there is a lot of yelling because you are frustrated™ and like screw you korra

you honestly think she is either madly in love with you and just doing this as a joke, and you genuinely think the latter is more like so you lowkey start crying and korra immediately begins to panic

she’s like, “why would i ever joke about that! i’ve literally been trying to get that through your thick skull this whole time!”

this time you kiss her first and korra is throwing a party in her head but she also feels really bad for making you cry oops

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

okay so korra happens to be very much a simp

and you happen to be very much the mom friend™ it doesn’t matter if you are a boy girl or none of the above, that is your trademark my friend

she’s very affectionate and now that the two of you are dating she is at a whole new level.

important meeting? you are in her lap she does not care. war meeting? she is cuddling you as you explain the plans of attack and DAMN DO YOU LOOK GOOD DOING it

since being the avatar is MUCH more a political position now though, she does try to keep your relationship slightly on the down low, even before you were dating, you both had reporters constantly asking about your relationship and she doesn’t really like that

they are nosy and she does not approve. korra understands wanting to know about her avatar duties, but anything outside of that in regards to her personal life annoys her

loves kissing you, and when she does it tends to be intense and passionate. after a particularly tough day though, her kisses can either be slow and sensual because she just wants to have a nice soft and domestic day with you

they can be harsh and almost brutish, she will get rough with you because she is highkey pissed at everything that day and making out you with is her stress reliever

really likes cuddling and anything domestic in general. she’s really happy with you, and she kinda has all the love languages

she seeks validation when the press is particularly harsh since being the avatar is HARD and as much as she wants to, she cannot please anyone, so please tell her she is doing amazing

so many acts of service up in here, she will randomly do stuff for you, spontaneity is kinda her vibe ya know

very vocal and expressive about her feelings, communication is key with her

arguments aren’t a rarity tbh, but when they do happen they tend to be more of debates over little things like what’s better, pineapple pizza or no?

major fights tend to end poorly since she can be a little stubborn when it comes to such things, but she will admit she was wrong and apologize IF she was wrong

if she wasn’t wrong but the argument got out of hand, she’ll apologize for that but will affirm her correctness

kiss her scars, she has them, and she is proud of them but

support her at her pro bending matches and she will DIE, so happy, literally sososososososo happy, hugs you, loves you, yes

treats you as an equal no matter what, even if people think that as the avatar she should see herself as something more than

very protective of you.

like if someone flirts with you, she is clingy x10. if someone hits on you despite your protests, she HITS them. if someone threatens to hurt you, she promises to end them.

MARRIAGE N STUFF

WELP

she’s gonna realize she wants to propose when she almost loses you, or in the middle of a battle. when the reality of potentially losing you hits her she is gonna realize she wants to live out the rest of her life by your side, protecting you

situation one is where she literally, in the MIDDLE OF BATTLE, without a ring, just proposes. you are being a baddie, bending if you are a bender, fighting the opposing enemy, looking MIGHTY FINE while doing it

“marry me.”

you falter, nearly getting hit as your head whips over to her and you’re like, “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

and she throws a giant rock at the opposition, temporarily indisposing them, “yes?? why wouldn’t i be.”

Someone comes up behind you and you elbow them in the face and ram your foot into their knee, knocking them down, “RIGHT NOW?”

she throws a whip of water in your direction and you dodge it, allowing her to take out the enemy behind you, and you throw a whole dagger at her to do the same. “that was close.” she narrows her eyes at you bc you lowkey look like you wanna kill her rn as you two hide behind a barricade for cover and an explosion washes over it, “you could’ve killed me.”

“you just about gave me a heart attack when you PROPOSED two minutes ago, need i remind you.”

korra raised a brow at you, “is that a no...?”

“do you even have a ring?”

korra gives you a look that gives you the answer and you groan, “i cannot believe you.”

“you really should’ve expected this.”

“i know.”

“i get to pick the ring then?”

“you’re probably going to plan the whole wedding.”

“alright.”

theres a boom from beyond the barricade you two have hidden behind as korra looks to you, “alright?”

“i’ll marry you.” you elaborate, giving her a bright smile.

situation two is more depressing lol

you have been SHOT oops, don’t die pls because korra CANNOT handle it after everything that has happened to her, so if you die she’s done

she’s kinda just sitting at your bed side and it hits her that you could die basically any day now, and she would have so many regrets

she wished she kissed you more, told you she loved you more, held you longer, spent more mornings with you and your bedhead, she wished she learnt to cook so that she could surprise you with a meal when you get home from a long day of work, she wishes she did a lot of things

she wishes you two were married.

korra is now having an existential crisis, and everyone is telling her that she has to go home, get some rest, you’ll wake up eventually, you’ll get better, but you don’t wanna wake up to korra being a mess

she knew they were right, you always scolded her for not taking care of herself, so she decided to follow some of their wishes

Korra cannot bring herself to go home, there are so many reminders of you that it hurts, and she kinda just decides she’ll stay in a hotel and wash up and such.

besides, you are her home.

after leaving the hotel, she ends up going the jeweler and buying the ring she believes screams you

when korra returns to the hospital, she contemplated proposing right then and there, before realizing that you’d probably yell at her for choosing such a ridiculous time and you already had a lot on your plate

once the two of you return home and you are in the midst of recovery, she did learn to cook, so you wouldn’t feel the need to do so, and given your situation she fears you’ll injure yourself further in the process.

you two are eating dinner and you’re babbling on about something you’d read, and she suddenly decides to get up and walk over to you, leaving you like ???

then she gets down on one knee and you are like :O

she’s like, “marry me.”

naturally, you start crying and nodding because wow this is such an intimate moment and just happiness

kissinggggg after that

the wedding is, under NO CIRCUMSTANCE public, the most private and intimate wedding ever. korra hates reporters after her life as the avatar, she doesnt want strangers at her wedding.

any and everyone she has ever fought beside is there though, its wholesome and nice

definitely cries when she sees you at the altar

her vows are MASTERFUL AND TEARJERKING

its a pretty basic wedding though, unless you prefer something over the top, the food is nice a mix of both your cultures and favorite things and there’s beautiful lighting

definitely done on air temple island, and tbh tenzin would probably walk you down the aisle because i said so

married life with her is even better, she lives for he domesticity of it all, especially lazy sunday mornings with the light filtering in and you just looking all pretty and having a lil fun

iykyk

honeymoon in the spirit word lads

bolin is your number one supporter

life with korra is a 10/10 i do recommend it

A/N: im kinda in love with korra lol this requests made me happy

#korra x reader #korra x you #korra x y/n #x reader #legend of korra #legend of korra x reader #legend of korra x you #lok #lok x reader #lok x you #korra #korra headcannons #korra x reader headcannon

1K notes · View notes

jkirktrash · 3 years

Text

I promised more fundy but as an actual fox head canons to @ghost-jamie and by god since i dont have any art of this au ready im gonna put some more headcanons.

In karl's lore (tales of the smp? I believe is the name? P sure) all of fundys "ancestors" are just different varieties of red fox. The closer they get to fundys time period the more domesticated they are.

Tommy gave fundy his own lil bandana before lmanburg really caught on and everyone had uniforms.

It had lil gears on it.

Cog champ in this au is still all the same people but its tubbo sam and ranboo as actual people and five up being maybe a cat or a dog and crumb being a kitten. Sam and tubbo and ranboo just try to make sure they dont die.

That wasnt technically dsmp so sorry oops

Anyways fundys dream lore in this one would likely be fundy having a lil nightmare of all the explosions of someone having to comfort him.

After all the tnt related incidents on the server the poor lil fox is super terrified of loud noises.

On doomsday (the one where techno and phil blew up lmanburg) techno noticed fundy in the chaos and motioned to eret. Eret kinda looked over, saw fundy, and yeeted out of there with fundy.

They were still super close by when everything happened though.

After the first time lmanburg blew up (erets betrayal time area) fundy had quite a few scars and gained more from the second blowing up of lmanburg.

Instead of blowing up supplies he just ate a bunch of golden apples and broke some potions.

Schlatt and wilbur tried multiple times to tempt fundy away from the other using food but after schlatt got drunk once and flipped out fundy stole some documents off of his desk and ran to wilbur.

Wilbur of course was like "my traitorous little son :)"

And fundy being a fox just tried to get some snacks bc what is sentience and understanding you somehow betrayed your "father?"

Anyways fundy and Henry used to get along. Fundy would sit on henrys back and have a happy time tm. Free transport for small paws.

Sapnap, normally killed a bunch of pets, but after the "petwar" with fundy he gives fundy steaks or fish on the regular. Why? Because 1 its cute 2 its funny to me at midnight and 3 alternate motives

Fundys secret base in this is just the random foxholes he keeps digging and people keep stepping into and breaking their ankles

Fundy once tried to eat nikis fish but after seeing her cry he put it back in the tank (still alive) and was like "k i gave it back wheres my treat :/"

Anyways thats all for tonight folks. Why i keep doing these so late is unknown to me but eh.

#fundy #itsfundy #fox fundy au #fundy is literally just a fox #fundy au

49 notes · View notes

acerace · 3 years

Note

Two Birds!! I put that on my 3rd life playlist too!! Tell me about that one?

(And just some more of the songs I recognized and am curious about if you're up to them!!)

-Blood in the Water (I love this song!!)

-Viva la Vida (Scar? 👀)

- Soilder, Poet, King (the possibilities!!)

Ohohoh *rubs my hands together*

Editing Clover here, uh, it’s been a hot second since you sent this. Oops. It got extremely buried in my drafts (like post 140 out of 250 buried) and then it got very long so uhhh to recap for everyone else, I have a 3rd Life playlist here which is in order with detailed explanations from People I Don’t Like to In Our Bedroom After the War. There's a bunch more songs after those that haven't been sorted (yet?) but are still very much 3rd Life vibes. Send me asks about the songs I go wild for this stuff :D

So have some (very late) rambling about the above songs below the cut!

Two Birds, aka "oh I am going to cry now thanks". This song is one of the hardest to pin down for me just because it's so emotive? Like to me the wire can be So Much but I think this interpretation- of pessimistic Grian and optimistic Scar- sits best with me

I think of it as a Grian and Scar song, with them being the two birds, plus the general vibes of "we know this can't last, that this won't end well, but let's pretend it's all going to be okay anyway". Also bird imagery for Grian my beloved

The wire is reality I think, the fact that they both can't be the last survivor, and Grian is the bird that can't let go of this fact- Scar considers him a genuine friend, that they're partners, and Scar knows this is going to end in blood and death but he believes in Grian anyway but Grian can't really accept this? Like Scar is aware of the wire and the reality they live in, but he wants to leave it behind, to live without that knowledge weighing down on him. But Grian can't- he can't fly away with Scar, as much as he wants to, he can't leave. He's playing the game of thrones and he can't put the pieces down, in a way. He's firmly stuck in harsh reality and nothing Scar can say can get him to put the worry away :(

"Two birds of a feather / Say that they're always gonna stay together" desert duo my beloved, with Grian realizing he can't leave Scar, can't leave him to die, they're partners, but it's session 8 and everyone is dying around them,, reality is crashing down and it's not going to be kind to them,,

And then the outro,,, paired with the finale,,,,, with Scar flying away as his death and the song ending as Grian jumps-

Pain.

Two Birds is such an emotional song and putting it into words is hard but tl;dr sand people becoming genuine friends as the world demands they kill each other,,,

Blood // Water was first listed as a general Red song, everyone is pissed and fighting and it’s no holds barred, but it’s also a vengeful!Scott song. In the first chorus and verse 1 Scott is thinking about how the Flower Husbands couldn’t escape the violence and death, and the “knock at the door” is the Red Army showing up with their book. The first drop is Jimmy’s death </3 and the rest of the song is Scott red and furious, out for vengeance, bloodthirsty, unable to process his grief or emotions so he lashes out again and again and again. And the last verse, the drop at the end, is Scott dying </3

Viva la Vida is another general song with specific lines written out to correspond to images in my head. Also I’m pretty sure I had this written down from before the final session so bits might not line up anymore XD

“I used to rule the world / Seas would rise when I gave the word”- teams at their castles looking proud- Scar and Grian, Bdubs and Cleo, Ren and Martyn, Etho Impulse and Tango, Scott and Jimmy, and BigB Joel and Skizz in their own homes

“Now in the morning, I sleep alone / Sweep the streets I used to own”- split up- Jimmy and Cleo and Skizz are dead, yellow Grian and red Scar looking at the blown up desert, Ren, Martyn, Etho, Tango, and Impulse divided and looking at their damaged bases

“Now the old King is dead, long live the King”- Martyn killing Ren to make him red

And I discovered that my castles stand / Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand”- bases collapsing- tnt, fire, changing loyalties

Chorus- battles, allies

“Once you'd gone, there was never / Never an honest word”- deaths, permadeaths, being left alone after your partner dies

“People couldn't believe what I'd become”- the bloodlust

Revolutionaries wait / For my head on a silver plate”- more fighting, battle at the desert, Cleo trying to kill Ren, Impulse siding with the Crastle

“Just a puppet on a lonely string”- Grian and Scar, reverses to Grian killing everyone with a smile

“Aw, who would ever want to be king?”- Grian as everyone dies around him, realizing he is alone

And Soldier, Poet, King is a Red Army song! The soldier is Skizz, the poet is Martyn, and the king is Ren <3 you can imagine it at any point in the story but I have it as an early song, before people started permadying, before the big battles broke out. But it can also be each of them dying- verse 1 first four lines is Skizz defending Dogwarts, then charging into the Crastle, then dying in the last line. Same idea for Martyn, he lives proudly and victoriously in the first four lines and then gets shot on “slay” reaching for Ren, who is offscreen, and we can’t see what’s happened to him. “There will come a ruler / whose brow is laid in thorn / smeared with oil like David’s boy” is the sacrifice on the altar, the Red King rising, and “he will tear your city down” is Ren defending Dogwarts for the last time, with him dying on the pause after the “oh lei oh lai” bit. The outro could be anything- the end of 3rd Life as the ghosts watch, flashbacks to happy memories and how the group formed, or, on a happier note, Skizz Ren and Martyn reuniting at the Hermit Raiders Twitch Rivals event <3

#3rd life smp #playlist tag #asks #I am So Sorry this took so long to get to #a: dancinglifeboat

11 notes · View notes

ivyuns · 3 years

Text

come back to me again ❆ ✰

kim seungmin

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: 2018-2020 era, young hearts are broken, mentions of passing out, y/n’s leader name is yerim and other member’s name is sunni, mentions of suicide, fainting, mean comments, strict dieting, one bad word oop, the plot doesnt make sense lol i just wanted a break from landing in your heart, not proofread

notes: i had three story plots i wanted to use but uh yeah i chose this one (maybe ill post all three of them but different members oo) but listen to love again by baekyun, or the cover by minnie <3

masterlist

idol!seungmin x femidol!reader

tell me you love me like the day you did

the day it ended was on a rainy, cold day. seungmin called you to meet up with him, saying he had something to tell you. heading to the jyp building, which wasnt that far from you house.

scanning your id and greeting the staff, you go to the room seungmin was in. knocking twice, you heard a “come in” and opened the door gently. “hi minnie” you smiled at your boyfriend. seungmin waved back with a small smile on his face.

“y/n, come sit here, we need to talk”

going to where seungmin pat the spot for you to sit, he sighs. “i know this is hard, but you know how stray kids is debuting soon?” you nod, knowing where this is leading to. “i- we have to break up” he paused. “but you know i love you right? i promise id come back after three years okay baby?” holding you tears, you looked into his eyes, that are full of sadness.

trying your best to hold your tears in, you gave him one last hug. before parting different ways, seungmin kissed your lips. letting go, you put the promise ring he gave you 2 years ago on his palm and walked away. letting the tears running onto your cheeks as you walked away from the room.

with a sobbing seungmin left alone in the practice room. holding your promise ring made him feel guilty, but it wasnt his fault that he had to do this.

tell me once again, say that you love me again

packing all of seungmins stuff that was at your house and looking though them made your heart burn. from they day he asked you out after school to whenever you two last hung out with each other, which was over 2 months ago.

because now that you and seungmin auditioned to be in the same company, but with seungmin, he had a little bit more talent than you did. it didnt mean you didnt have talent, it just meant you were physically ready to become an idol. still improving, many idols were amazed at how well your singing and dancing was.

finally taping seungmins box, you went to the stray kids dorm and dropped it off and to say goodbye to the boys. deciding to switch to a new company to focus more instead of dealing with you heartbreak.

you rung the doorbell and you come face-to-face with seungmin. handing seungmin the box, you asked if it was okay to say goodbye to the boys, which made seungmin confused. where you going somewhere? ending your dreams?

seungmin moved to the side for you to come in. as seungmin closed the door, a voice was heard. “seungmo! who’s here- oh” looking up, you see minho. your eyes that was red and puffy ran more tears down as you ran up and hugged minho.

minho was in fact the one who introduced you to seungmin. accidentally falling in love with seungmin, you told minho all about it and he eventually told seungmin about your feelings towards him. seungmin, who felt the same way, made the best way to confess to you, which was a success.

minho hugged you back, caressing you back as seungmin looked down and went back to his room. “its okay love, its okay” minho shushed you as you cried into his chest. settling you two in the living room, the whole stray kids but seungmin came out of their rooms, comforting you as they all knew what happened between you and seungmin.

30 minutes passed and you decided it was time to go. giving the boys one last hug, you made sure they’ll have good luck when theyre now idols.

“just know, ill love you guys forever. thank you”

im where ive always been, i still love you

almost 2 years had gone by and you finally debuted into a three member group. with being the main vocalist and dancer. being invited to the award shows, your group gracefully posed on the red carpet, right after stray kids. accidentally locking eyes with seungmin, you almost teared up but you had to be strong.

sitting down in front of stray kids, you grew anxious as if nobody else other than stray kids and yerim knew about your past relationship. stilling having feelings for seungmin, you let them go and paid attention to the show that was now starting.

“hyung, dont you think y/n looks like shes about to pass out?” jeongin asked seungmin. after you left the dorms that day, seungmin didnt know where you were. nobody told him anything about you other than you leaving jyp. you and your group was hidden from social media until your company announced a new girl group was debuting soon.

after seungmin got the news about you, he felt so relieved, knowing that you were still here living. on the pictures online, you looked like a goddess. the way your singing was beautiful and your dancing were sharp. he was amazed at how far you came.

but when seungmin saw you in person, it looked like you were on the verge of passing out due to how thin you looked. it looked like you couldnt perform on what your condition is.

feeling unsteady, your group was the last ones to perform. getting into your costumes, you fell back slightly when yerim pushed you up. after seeing how weak your body has been acting, she was worried something might happen to you on stage. and seeing how you reacted when you saw seungmin again made her worried.

“y/n, are you sure you got this?” yerim asked. nodding your head a yes with a smile on you, you gave her a thumbs up. with the smile that hid everything. yerim nodded her head, your group was ready to perform.

among the three girls that was on the stage, seungmin only looked out for you. anxiety rising, seungmin bit his lips which changbin rubbing his back to calm down.

the end of the performance, you tried your best to stay still, but you only saw blurry vision. as you were about to get off stage, you fainted with your head hitting the floor first. gasping were loud from everyone as yerim and sunni tried to lift you up and go back to the dressing rooms.

as soon as seungmin saw everything, he stood up and tried to run towards you till he was stopped by chan. “seungmin you cant. everyone’s going to find out” “i dont care hyung, the person i love the most is hurt” seungmin said and let go of chan’s hand that was gripped around seungmins wrist.

seungmin runs through the halls and tries to find your groups room. after finding it, he gently pushes away people who are near you and gets a view of you on the couch. “s-seungmin” both sunni and yerim said together. “yerim, what happened to her” seungmin asked, skipping the honorifics since they know each other.

yerim bites her lips with glossy eyes, scared of what to tell seungmin what you’ve been doing. “yerim?! i said whats going on with y/n-” “she tried to kill herself!” seungmin pauses and tries to lets what yerim said sink into him.

“w-what? why?” seungmin asks as tears start streaming down his face, as well as sunni’s and yerim’s. “she was scared. scared that she wasnt going to be perfect to be an idol. she started getting hate comments, saying she was too fat. but this is why shes too thin. she wont listen to us when we tell her she needs to rest and to start eating. all she does is practice with no water breaks but somehow, she still hits every move right. other than that, shes scared of what youll see her like again. she still loves you seungmin, but shes scared”

“sunbae, shes not okay. she needs somebody and that somebody is you”

seungmin was stunned by what yerim and sunni told him. “can- can you two leave us for a moment. please?” seungmin asked quietly as everyone left the room. seungmin starred at your body. eyes closed with you as skinny as your bones. it scared him of how you thought so low about yourself.

he doesnt understand it. he doesnt understand how you got every moves and vocals right without anything. where you like this during your relationship? no, it couldnt. both seungmin and you promised each other that you two will never keep secrets to yourself.

seungmin silently cries to himself, thinking of why you wanted to do this to yourself as he held your hand. his tears slowly fall onto you forearms, which wipes the makeup off of your scars you created, which makes seungmin cry more.

because of you fainting, the award show was paused temporally. with this being said, stray kids got up and quickly went to you room until they were stopped by yerim. “dont, seungmins already in there” all of them nods their heads and waited outside the room with minho dropping down, hands in his face with tears as he remembers when you tried to seek help from him but he never answered because he was too busy.

don't leave me alone baby, just stay for the night baby

still holding your hand, seungmin whispers ‘i love yous’ and ‘im sorry, please forgive me’. gaining conscious, you flutter your eyes open and see seungmin in front of you.

“seungmin?”

he opens his eyes to see you awake. “bab- y/n. thank god” seungmin says and hugs you gently. tears start streaming down as you realized he probably knows everything now. “s-seungmin, did they tell you-” “yes they did. and im sorry. so fucking sorry oh my god, please dont do this again. please eat, please do what you loved to do again. i want the old y/n back, the happy one” seungmin lets out.

“okay, ill come back” you told him. seungmin wipes your tears away, as well as his and plants a kiss on your lips. “come back to me again?” nodding your head, you both smile. this time, a real and happy smile from you.

the awards continued on and your group won an award. chan offered your group if they wanted to come for dinner, you were going to decline, but yerim, sunni and seungmin forced you to, wanting you to start eating again.

heading out, the eleven of you walked to the nearest korean bbq while holding seungmin’s hand. feeling the warmth youve been missing for 2 years.

tell me your love again.

END <3

#stray kids #stray kids seungmin #seungmin angst #seungmin fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #skz #jyp skz #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop #kim seungmin #fluff #angst

57 notes · View notes

wind-becomes-lightning · 2 years

Note

Umm.. umm.. umm. Nisi only if u have time and u reaaaly want to do this but

Could u do 7. With Kaiya and Obito in modern AU? Can be sometheng very short.

Pls dont do this if u have too many things to write! <: <3 ok love u bye!!!

Always up to write for these babes (and you! <3)

50 Meet cutes - send me some to get my mind of things!!

There was something to be said about the inherit stress that came with grocery shopping. The endless isles with products, the rushing people crossing path with waggons and baskets, the stressed cashiers, sitting and mumbling into their microphones to their colleagues and the constant flow of music lulling your ear from the speakers in the walls. A terrible environment, too stressfull. Too much responsibility. Too adult.

Kaiya tried to keep her visits at the local supermarket as short ast possible. She carefully planned out every possible food for the week, list set up to the very last ingredient and went on a thrusday morning when her classes started late at university to avoid the crowd. Still, she tried to get it done quickly. One had to eat, one didn't have to linger on for too long. She hated being outside, a hermit half her life.

Another thursday down the isle with the dairy products Kaiya had her head deeply buried in her shopping list, trying to avoid the stare and attention of other people. She preferered not to be seen, or worse, be talked to. Eyes hanging low she walked down the products, knowing full well how the floor next to her favourite products looked like. Unfortunatley there were a pair of feet in her way, a man was standing and by the looks of it trying to reach the top shelf items, his long arm stretching is muscle from shoulder to fingertip.

Kaiya averted her eyes from him and took a step left to avoid him, but instead she bumped into him. He'd taken a step right to avoid her. "Oh, oops, sorry", he said, and took a step left at the same time as Kaiya took a step right, they bumped into each other again. "Sorry again," he said and both tried to dodge again, only to end up in front of each other one more time. "This is silly", he said, "It looks like we are trying out a dance routine." Somehow that comment made her giggle.

She looked up for the first time over his chest in to his face and a gasp came out of her mouth before she could stop it. He had black hair, streaks hanging into his face, and dark eyes, but most striking of all were the circular facial scars on the right side of his face. Maybe he'd burned himself as a kid, she thought. The smile on his face was shy but beautiful, she sighed, trying to keep her composure.

"I will just go to the left" she said, voice a little shaky and hoarse from weeks of not using it, "and you will go right. Problem solved." He laughed: "Oh I can see us messing it up again, let me.." He lightly touched her shoulders to move her body to his side, then he stepped through directly beside her ".. do this. Ha, it worked, who'd have thought?" She couldn't help but smile at his smile. He was really handsome. "I believed in us", she said and gave him a thumbs up.

When he finally left her side he threw look into her basket and quickly pointed at an item: "I love that brand of bread, it's always fresh and tasty, even if you haven't left your house in days and feel so disgusting that you want to wear a mask instead of looking at your face. At least the bread is fresh." Kaiya saw his face move into a frown just for a second and then she understood that he was trying to keep their conversation alive for some reason.

Had he caught her on an off day she might not have even talked one word to him, but this man seemed nice, he radiated a warm, comforting energy. So Kaiya broke her rule about talking to people in the supermarket. Just this once. Just for this person. "Certainly is", she humoured him and his eyes lit up when he understood that she too wanted to keep talking to him. "Though I usually freeze a part and unfreeze it later, it stays fresher I think."

"I'm Obito", he said instead of replying to her and he let whatever he had taken out of the shelf fall into the bag he was carrying around his shoulder. "Kaiya" she introduced herself, the insecurities back in her voice. "Miss Kaiya, what is on that long list of yours?"

Kaiya clutched the shopping list and laughed. It was indeed long. "I need some fruits as vitamin intake."

Obito saluted as if she was his sergant: "To the fruit place we go. " And then, in his normal voice again. "I need some vegetables anyway. Something to cook with rice."

He walked on and she followed without second guessing why she was so willing to run after a stranger she just met. Throwing her principle of fast shopping, alone shopping, out of the window.

#oc: kaiya #prompt things #sorry kali the ending sucked i had no idea where to go from there #sadge sadge sadge

2 notes · View notes

oh-my-may · 4 years

Text

Atsumu being jealous of his s/o being close with Osamu

requested: hii! can i request headcanons for atsumu being jealous of how close his s/o is with osamu? i love your writing 🥺💕

Thank you so much anon!! Your kind words are appreciated :3 Also I love writing for Atsumu someone please stop me- (this got so much longer than I intended it to be please excuse me but the Miya twins kinda own my heart oops)

It developed naturally, your friendship with Osamu. Contrary to Atsumu, whom you only got to know in High School, you’ve known Osamu a while longer.

When you both were in Middle School you first saw each other at a little grocery store after school. You both stood in front of the same shelf, just inches away from each other. Your favourite pudding was on there, unfortunately a little too high up for you to reach. You stood on your tippy toes, your arm stretching as far as possible, but you barely touched it.

Of course Osamu noticed and being the gentleman he is (lol) he reached up and gave you the pudding, which was actually his favourite as well (we love a good pudding-bonding moment)

You thanked him so whole heartedly that he decided to buy the pudding for you (even though tht meant he couldn’t get one for his brother which he was very mad about in the end).

So you both sat outside under a tree and enjoyed your puddings while you made some light conversation. He told you about volleyball and about his annoying brother until the sun was setting and you both had to go home.

You didn’t exchange contacts or anything (you were like 12 or 13) but either way you met again a few days after, at the same story, in front of the same shelf, aiming for the same pudding. So it became a regular thing. Two times a week you would meet there after school and eat some pudding and talk until the sun was setting.

Sometimes you’d help him with homework, sometimes you’d let him rant about his brother or volleyball or both and at the same time he’d listen to your complaints about school or listen to other stories you’d have to tell.

Until High School approached and you both ended up not only at the same school but also on the same class. Of course you knew you were going to the same school from now on (you talked about that, too), but when you walked into your new class and you saw each other it was still like that spiderman meme. “Y/N!” “Osamu?!” A great moment.

Atsumu was confused af because his twin brother knew such a pretty person and he didn’t even know your name? Was he doing something wrong? Why had Osamu hid this from him?

So anyways you end up in the seat next to Osamu so your seating order would be You - Osamu - Atsumu and then Suna. And honestly Atsumu was kinda crushing on you hard since the beginning. And of course Osamu would know because he’s his twin and just... Probably a twin thing.

So Osamu would be annoyed af about this because that is exactly why he never told Atsumu about you in the first place. He didn’t want any weird relationship forming and possibly ruining your nice friendship. He has grown quite fond of you and he knew his brother so he was just trying to prevent a catastrophe okay-

But you couldn’t care less that Atsumu and Osamu are brothers - or twins, in fact. To you they were two completely different people. You could even tell them apart from the beginning (even when they still had the same hair color) and you got to know the two in completely different contexts.

Of course you knew Atsumu from Osamu’s stories but he very quickly proved himself to be a lot more than that and much to Osamus displeasure you developed a crush on Atsumu and met him in private and outside of school - without Osamu or Suna or someone else around.

Atsumu was far more than just Osamus annoying twin brother that you only knew from his subjective stories. In fact, he was a lot different than from what you expected him to be and very quickly you fell very deep for him, so it didn’t take long until you started dating.

And of course you both were happy - every day you got to know more about the other, learned new things and fell in love deeper.

But there was always something that bothered Atsumu. No matter what it was, Osamu seemed to know you better. “Did you know they like this pudding?” “Bro, that’s literally how we met.”, “Today I saw a tiny scar on their knee.” “Oh yeah, they once fell from their bike as a child and it’s still visible.”

It pisses him off. Because Osamu doesn’t even try to be subtle about it. They had a big talk when you two started dating - Osamu made it very clear that he didn’t have any feelings for you and just appreciated you as a friend. Still, Atsumu had an unpleasant feeling creeping up inside him whenever he saw you laughing with his twin or sitting together with him at lunch.

Je hust couldn’t enjoy every single moment with you, knwoing in his head that his twin brother maybe already knew the story you were telling him. When you even just mentioned Osamu’s name he flinched a little, even when it was just for a small comment. He knew it would be different when you wouldn’t have known Osamu before him, but of course he couldn’t change that.

He knew that it was very stupid of him to feel this way but he couldn’t help it. He tried to play it off around you but he couldn’t keep quiet forever. Both you and Osamu noticed. So eventually, you brought it up when you were chilling at your place.

It was definitely the right thing to do, yet you found yourself regretting it after you two got into an argument. Your first one. Atsumu talked himself into a rage once you started talking and he couldn’t stop his mouth from saying all these words. Not bad words, just ones you couldn’t quite understand. He let out all his feelings (mostly frustration and anger directed at himself) and then at the end he looked at you. You were frozen on the spot after he repeatedly waved you off when you tried to interrupt him and calm him down. Your eyes were a little widened, your cheeks reddened with stress, you had folded your hands in an hesitating manner in front of your chest and your chest was heavily lifting and falling under your fastened heartbeat.

He felt miserable. “I ... I’m sorry Y/N, I know I’m stupid. I love you and I’m sorry for making you feel this way but I think I need to sort some things out with myself. See you tomorrow.” Then he left and you were still frozen before you grabbed for your phone and did the first thing that came to your mind. You called Osamu.

You told him everything Atsumu had just talked about and Osamu just listened silently. When you finished he let out a small “hm” and then he was silent again before starting to talk about the matter himself. That’s when you first notice how similiar they were when it came to their feelings.

Osamu told you how he was suspecting something like that (because his brother is just impulsive like that and he would probably feel the same) and how Atsumu hasn’t returned home yet. You couldn’t think of a solution for the situation but Osamu hung up, saying he would handel the situation. After all it would be him dealing with Atsumu when he’d return.

Atsumu was probably in the gym, throwing some tosses to get his mind clear and trying to overcome his issues.

He got home late and Osamu already waited for him in his room, sitting in a bean bag chair. The two of them didn’t talk or even blink for like a whole minute, they just looked at each other (another weird twin thing?). Eventually Atsumu broke the silence, though his eyes didn’t leave his brothers face. “They called you, didn’t they?” “What else would they have done in this situation?”

Atsumu just huffed, letting himself fall into the other bean bag chair, directly next to Osamu. “You know you are being stupid, right?” “Of course!”

So they’d talk about it for quite a while. Of course they can’t just change Atsumu’s feelings, but they reailzed that eventually it would get to a point where he’d knew you better than Osamu. “I can’t know everything about them. I don’t even want to, that’s your job. But don’t you think it’s nice for them to have someone who already knows you? Who can help them in situations like this? Whoy they can rant and come to when they feel like it? Same goes for you, maybe she knows stuff about me that you don’t.”

Again they’d exchange a long look and eventually Atsumu would sigh and be like: “At least you can tell me stuff about them now. What’s their favourite type of candy? And what about flowers? Or plushies?”

“I’ll tell you everything as long as you don’t steal our pudding thing.”

So the next day you’re a little hesitant before you go into class because Osamu didn’t text you to tell you how it went. Maybe Atsumu is still a little upset? Maybe they had a big fight? You can’t help but feel anxious about probably being the reason for a fight between siblings - twins. It breaks your heart.

But before you can even step into class someone class your name from the other way of the hallway and when you turn to see it’s Atsumu walking up to you, quite the impressive bouquet of flowers and a tiny bag in hand.

You visually relax as your face lights up seeing Atsumus face a lot brighter than ever. He grins from ear to ear and his hair falls into his face because of his running but he looks better than ever and you just want him to drop all these things so you can jump at him and kiss him until you’re both dizzy.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean to raise my voice and make you feel uncomfortable. I know I am dumb, but I promise you that I got this from now on.” He smiles and hands you the things he’s bought for you.

You peeked into the bag and saw your favorite candy. A knowing smile crept onto your lips as you looked back at Atsumu, who was waiting for your reaction with big eyes. “Tell me, did you have help picking out all my favourite sweets?” Your voice was sweet and your face even sweeter. You already knew the answer but you wanted to see if Atsumu could actually overcome his issues.

He looked you right in the eye. “Of course my beloved brother helped me.”

You broke out into a wide grin and slung your arms around his neck. He happily welcomed you in his arms and snaked his hands on your back and into your hair, pressing you tightly against him.

Everything about him felt a little different. He was less tense and more relaxed, the looks on his face were more genuine and the words he spoke made your heart jump a little. Yes, you could definitely move on like this.

“I love you both.”, you murmured into his neck. You felt him freeze for a second and laughed. “Of course I love you a lot more though.”

Requests are still open!

291 notes · View notes

ainti-pretty · 3 years

Note

Hi!

What do you think about Iorveth in realationship? And can you write differences (if you think they will be), if his "love" is human or elf.

yeah! i can!

as a multishipper (heehee) ill just write for all of them bc i imagine each take place during VERY different times in his life. it also describes the relationship and that dynamic so yea. i hope this is what u wanted. oops

its also a bit long!! so there is a cut

tw: (all are mentioned and its not too in deth but be careful) death, trauma, drinking

first, id like to start of with iorveth as a youngster:

-he was probably rlly fucking hot as teen/young adult before he really got involved in the scoia'tael and got the scar and probably. slept around a lot. he probably wasnt big on commitment as he was young and maybe was in a few long(ish) term relationships but he mostly just chilled until his parents were killed by humans and he got his scar

next, onto beginnings of scoia'tael years/cedric:

-i think that iorveth and cedric joined together as friends but gradually grew closer

-but, after he got the scar i think it fucked up his self esteem so he was a lot less open with his affections

-the trauma of losing his parents and being there was. in short. not good.

-i feel like he definately got incredibly invested in the scoia'tael during this time because it and cedric were all he had

-and he dearly loved cedric, and although he had lost a ton of his self esteem, he found strength in cedric and they were a power couple for a few decades. the slept together, they cuddled, they held hands whenever they had the chance, and they truly truly loved each other very much

-until cedrics health/mental health got worse and they broke up (which broke both their hearts), and iorveth blamed himself when cedric left the scoia'tael.

moving onto ciaran:

-ciaran (as per my previous hc on him) lost his parents as a teen and was wandering around trying to get revenge on humans whenever he could for years before iorveth met him.

-naturally, iorveth fell hard.

-but, after cedric left he decided to bottle it up and ignore bc he didnt want to ""ruin"" anyone else again by being too invested in the scoia'tael.

-unfortunately for iorveth, ciaran also fell in love with him, and after years of waiting when hes second in command, ciaran confessed

-iorveth flipped the fuck out because he was like. no. that cant be possible! im unlovable and i hurt people and im just going to ruin him!

-this is partially because of what happened with cedric, and partially because ciaran (although CERTAINLY an adult), is definately younger, and iorveth thinks he deserves better than him

-he knows what hes done for the scoia'tael and knows hes not a good person, and hopes that he can scare ciaran into leaving.

-it doesnt work. and they both end up crying.

-once they are together though, there is a definate change in their relationship vibe from iorveth and cedrics. they certainly sleep together and cuddle and do all the relationship things that cedric and iorveth did, but iorveth is clearly holding something back

-they decide that while they both love each other dearly, they cannot be in a health/stable relationship with just each other because its clear that iorveth is in no way able to properly be in a relationship at that moment

-they decide to open up the relationship and thats where vernon roche comes in

yeah. vernon roche. this is where iorveth sorta has a. oh fuck its a human moment.

-as you all know, roche was the leader of the scoia'tael in flotsams greatest enemy, the blue stripes, a special forces commando designed to stop the scoia'tael.

-after having a WHOLE enemies to lovers situation, they find themselves in a situation.

-they both love each other. and they are both two war criminals who FINALLY end on the same side after years of fighting (lets just say iorveth joined for the kaer morhen fight against the wild hunt) and it seems like everything is fine

-its not.

-first of all, they both have lots and lots of issues other than that they are both war criminals:

1. iorveth has never dated a human before, let alone a man he nearly killed and has nearly killed him on many occasions.

2. iorveth feels like hes betraying the ideals of the scoia'tael along with his parents for dating a human, and this feeling hits even moreso bc its roche.

3. iorveth has loads and loads of attachment issues, and even though he and ciaran still have their thing going on (that roche is aware of and understands), he still really hasnt been in any recent relationships that havent ended in someone leaving

4. iorveth really doesnt quite understand human customs other than what he can tell from spying. he spends lots of time in the woods and knows far more about trade routes to and from flotsam than he really knows of human culture. its almost embarassing.

5. iorveth sometimes gets worried its all a ploy to get roche to kill him and that theres plans to hurt the former scoia'tael due to anti-elf racism

moving onto roches issues, which while there are less of, they dont help:

1. as a child of a sex worker and single mother, roche found himself also getting involved in sex work, which gave him consent issues bc he really did have a choice in the matter bc it was do the job or starve.

2. hes a half elf but right before he was drafted into the army he cut the tips of his ears off to make him look more human. this makes it hard for him to connect w iorveth bc he really doesnt know elf customs, but doing human customs just never felt right

3. he also has some issues from his previous relationship w foltest, which was Not Even slightly healthy, and is still trying to cope w the realization that it was worse than he thought

all of this results in a lot of miscommunication, especially because iorveth (for a long time DURING the relationship) didnt know roche was half-elf and wanted to do all the elven traditions he hadnt been able to join. they dont know what the other wants, and they dont know what the other needs because once again. issues galore. iorveth also probably would be more able to get into fights than any other relationships (because unlike ciaran or cedric, roche is abrasive) which means that there would be a lot of hurt at the beginning of it.

HOWEVER, after they actually talk, and roche is like. hey im half elf, and more than willing to do things the traditional elven way (which iorveth is far more familiar and comfortable with), they sorta get into a routine of things.

and it begins to be a secure and steady and healthy relationship.

tdlr: iorveth has shitty self worth, trust issues and struggles with communication sometimes so things get muddled but when he falls, he falls hard. but the relationships hes in are very different depending on who it is. hes more comfortable with other nonhumans, but even before knowing roche is half-elf, he would give his life for them.

#thank u for asking!!!#hope this is what u wanted eblkslw #iorveth #ciaran aep easnillen #cedric witcher #iorveth/cedric #iorveth/roche #iorveth/ciaran #the witcher #witcher 2 #my hcs

6 notes · View notes

chaoticspacefam · 3 years

Note

🖊🖊 for Ni'kasi and an oc of your choice 👀

Thanks for the ask, Pinky! apparently my brain has decided “gush” means “throw lots of random fun facts at everyone” today so here we go! Here’s your favourite tomato gal! :3

-She and Saarai were always twins and I’d always intended for them to be close, and the bare-bones basic premise of how I wanted their relationship to work was “Saarai is the brawn and Kas is the brains”. While this is still true, it did evolve ever so slightly in that Saarai is now also the (more reliable) moral compass. Kas isn’t particularly Dark-sided, but she’s not Light-sided either, she’s inherited a lot more of mom’s “I will do what I have to to get a job done even if that means I have to kill a bitch” attitude XD

-When I first came up with the idea for the twins, Kas’s name was originally going to be “Jen” which is the High Sith word for “hidden, or in shadow” (”Saarai” is the High Sith word for “Truth”, for reference ;) ) ; so their names joined together would have meant “Hidden Truth”. I don’t remember where Ni’kasi came from because it isn’t an “actual” Sith word nor does it have particular meaning (though I might try to make one up, we’ll see :P), but the very first time I went to write down solid bios for them I ended up writing “Ni’kasi” instead of “Jen” for her and it’s stuck ever since then.

-Initially, Kas’s colour pallette was a lot lighter, which you can see in all of her screenshots up till now (cause I forgot to change her when I changed the design earlier this year oops :’D) and also in this art piece I ordered of her last year, here:

(art is by @/cerculor on deviantART)

and the twins were very darn near close to being identical, but I decided that I actually rather liked their dad’s more purple-ish skintone earlier this year and that it was a shame neither of the twins looked a bit more like him, so I changed Kas up a bit and gave her dad’s skintone, jaw spurs and eye colour. She’s got mom’s red-tinted hair and (mostly) mom’s ridge/browstalk structure though :D

-Great with her own kids and direct blood relatives (e.g. nieces, nephews, grandchildren), but kinda iffy with other, random children. She won’t hurt them but she’s very much D’leah’s child in that respect, she’s very “Sith-y”, and liable to be abrasive, unsympathetic and so on. Generally not the sort of presence you’d want around your kids... there will definitely be tears hahahaha

-The scar on her eye was originally going to be caused by D’leah in the same fight that she gets Saarai’s nose, when Ni’kasi got between them to try and break up the scuffle, but I retconned that instead when I re-thought some stuff about that so now she gets it from the Inquisitors after they figure out who killed Ty’s dad and come after them.

-This is also how Kas ends up in the slave pens, after they kill D’leah they throw Ni’kasi into slavery (which is a bit of plot armour/oversight on the Inquisitors part, I admit but shhh XD) and figure y’know “she’s never gonna get out of there again”. A lot can happen, and be forgotten, in 60 odd years tho so eventually they do throw her back into the Academy much to Kas’s surprise.

-She has a lot more scars other than the one on her eye, just that most of them are on her back, or the back of her neck, so you generally can’t see them (I haven’t drawn a scar ref for her yet, it is also on the to-do list lol)

And we random-rolled Aria for this one, so more Tiny Sith nonsense!

(art is by @/ocellifera on deviantART)

-Aria’s hairstyle and general appearance actually came about because it was based on my second-favourite “portrait” choice for the PC in KOTOR II. She wasn’t how I saw my version of the Exile looking, but I really liked the design (including the little blonde fringe streak) so I decided I wanted to do something with it! <3

-We don’t get to see it much because usually when I draw her she’s back with the Sith and fully into the “Dark side” portion of her story and therefore her eyes are amber, but here you go, a nice glimpse of Aria’s natural eye colour! As mentioned on Myla’s ask, she has heterochromia as well, though her grey is “lighter” than Myla’s as she inherited the grey from dad and the brown from mom (yes I know technically it doesn’t work like that but basically I couldn’t decide which one I liked better so instead of agonising over the choice I went “one of each, problem solved” XD)

-Aria was actually the very first SWTOR-era OC I made, very closely followed by her dad, Roan, and then Vano, then her mom when I worked on her backstory, and followed by everyone else haha. I created her for an RP on an RP site that got a couple of posts in and then died/my partner ghosted me for whatever reason (I’ve never found out nor does it matter really), I was disappointed because I really liked Aria and didn’t get to “do much” with her, so I recycled her when another RP popped up, used that to build her backstory and prompt me to start the Subterfugeverse and then threw her into the Zephyrverse AU RP with my buddy k-christine once she got back in touch and we started RPing again :D -Aria gave me the most trouble (other than maybeee Saarai) in terms of finally nailing down what her sexuality was. I had no idea what she’d be at all when I first made her, other than I knew this binch wasn’t straight hahaha. So first, I defaulted her to bi, but then that didn’t seem to fit her much (I didn’t know pansexuality was a thing at the time), then during my self-projection phase I considered leaving her as just a lesbian but she wasn’t happy with that either and eventually I figured out pan is a thing and she started jumping up and down and screaming HELLO YEAH THAT ONE!! at me. The only thing that was for sure obvious to me was that she’s demiromantic, because while she can get around and doesn’t care who with (insert “will fuck anything (humanoid) with a pulse” joke here), the romantic feelings often attached to that for other people take a long time to develop for Aria.

15 notes · View notes

kareofbears · 4 years

Text

desperate as that sounds

Five times Ryuji ran for Akira (and one time he ran for himself.)

—

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

It’s 4:45 am with the weather sitting at a brutal -3 degrees when Ryuji really starts wishing that he brought another jacket.

People are lined around Akihabara by the hundreds outside of closed electronic stores, and the sun has yet to even rise. Some people are yawning, some are clutching their rapidly cooling coffee in a death grip, and most have dark, purple bags underneath their eyes—proof of the battle scars that they’ve acquired. Every person here had the same goal in mind: To get what they need and get out as quick as possible.

As it turns out, if everyone has that same mindset, it creates the violent, yearly November tradition that is Black Friday.

Glancing around, he notices that people came in packs, teams. Teenagers and pre-pubescent kids are all scuffling around, hyping themselves up and creating strategies for the war to come. The more seasoned veterans of the yearly massacre came in pairs—the smaller the group, the faster you move, the move land you cover.

At the biggest electronic store in a region that’s already been nicknamed ‘Electronic Town,’ he is fourth in line—an impressive feat, especially for a first-timer. But it came with a heavy toll: he is completely and utterly alone.

”Skull, do you read me?”

Well, physically alone, anyway.

“Loud and clear,” he replies, readjusting the mic in his ear. “Not that I mind, but what’s with the codenames?”

Futaba scoffs. “You think Black Friday is just about the physical aspect? Foolish boy—the psychological aspects are half the battle. If I get you into the mindset that we’re in a Palace, then you’ll get into infiltration mode, and you’ll be OP compared to the nerds out there.”

“Ooo, I like it! Your brain is effin’ galaxy sized!”

“I do what I can for my faithful pack mule.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

His deal with Futaba had been a simple one. She helps Ryuji navigate the horrors of Akihabara during Black Friday in exchange that he acts as what is essentially a drug trafficker sans the drugs. Despite her rigorous societal training she’d undergone with the Thieves, something about entering a borderline stampede still seems somewhat unappealing to her. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’d always wanted to do something nice for Futaba anyway, and the store that has her computer thing is the same store that holds what he needs.

”Five minutes to go,” her voice crackles into his ear. ”Infiltration route—go!”

Their deal had also come in with an intense tutorial session that ended up lasting until one in the morning. “Floor 4, down 3 aisles, 8 steps in, turn right, second shelf, grab a box that says ‘GTX graphics card.’ Pink, if possible.”

“A+, Skull! You know, if you can memorize that, I seriously don’t get why you’re failing English verbs.”

“Please, this is actually important.”

Futaba cackles. “Now you’re speaking my language. With your legs and my navigation, this’ll basically be a Tuesday afternoon in Leblanc.”

People around him are starting to straighten up, some going as far as to remove the extra layer of clothing and shoving it in backpacks for maximum speed and minimum restrictions. “Damn, people here look more intense than some dudes in my track meets.”

“If you’re throwing out portable chargers with 30-hour battery life for only 800 yen, you’d be a little intense too.”

Ryuji scoffs and begins to stretch, being extra sure to get his right thigh. “I’m plenty intense. Just last Saturday, I almost beat the Big Bang Burger challenge.”

“Pretty sure Akira beat that on his second week in Tokyo. You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re bothering with this whole Black Friday mess. I didn’t peg you for an electronics type of guy, and your phone is as crappy as your posture.”

“Rude! But I can’t argue with that.” He starts to run in place, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should’ve packed a protein shake.

“Well, too late now. If your thing sells out because you didn’t want to give your Navi information, that’s on you.”

“Gimme some credit, Futaba,” an employee who looks equal parts sleep-deprived and terrified approaches the glass doors. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m failing either of us this morning.”

The glass slides open, and as if sunlight was released from the captivity of the clouds, or perhaps a meteor just broke through the earth’s atmosphere, the people start pushing, shoving, and flooding inside. The crowd looked both impenetrable and unwavering; an unstoppable force and an immovable object rolled into one giant stream of desperate shoppers.

Ryuji spares a split-second to crack his neck. Mission Start.

The moment he breaks through the initial threshold, people who were only one step behind him suddenly became ten, twenty, thirty. Weaving through crowds and aisles with the precision of a seamstress, Ryuji evades it all with ease.

”Skull, status report.”

“Smooth sailing, Oracle!” He ducks as an overly buff businessman turns around with a 3-metre pole used for studio lighting threatens to bash his head in. “You’re totally right about the codenames, by the way. It’s almost like I’ve got Captain with me.”

“Right?” She laughs. “It’s all about the mindset.”

Ryuji turns, and finally gets to the stairs—the most brutal section and the biggest gamble. It’s the reason why it was essential that he’s one of the first in line. Once the stairs get jammed with people, it’s game over. Making a mad dash up four flights of stars, he thanks any God that may be that Palaces are fantastic for rehab.

He makes it to the top, panting. It’s empty, save for a few nervous-looking employees. He hopes the smile he throws their way came off as ‘pleasant and grateful for their service’ rather than ‘a delinquent asshole who might steal loads of shit.’

“Down 3 aisles, 8 steps,” he mutters to himself as he quickly scans the fourth floor. “Turn right, second shelf,” eyes landing on his target, he grins. “I effin’ rock.”

”You got it?”

“Of course I did!” He fist pumps before swiping the box. In his excitement, he nearly runs over to give a random employee a high-five. “Alright Oracle, you’re up.”

”I love you so much in a non-weird way. Okay,” he hears the clacking of keys on the other side of the mic. “What do you need?”

“Two words: game console.”

The clacking stops. “You’re joking.”

Ryuji snorts. “I ain’t waking up at 3 in the morning for a joke.”

”Those are hard enough to get as is, and on a day like this—”

“So you can’t do it?”

In the same way every one of the thieves know they could bait Ryuji with a few choice words, it’s a lesser-known fact that Futaba is quite nearly as bad when it comes to open defiance. “Jerk. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Ugh, fine!” The clacking resumes, more vigorously. “Yikes, only 3 left. Make it quick!”

“Got it,” he replies. He turns around and his stomach drops as he sees people rushing in. “What floor?”

“Third.”

Ryuji groans. The stairs, with people packed in like sardines, are a circus. It would take at least two minutes to try and go down a single flight of stairs. The elevator is even worse, and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it had already started to malfunction. Only one choice, then.

He takes a deep breath. “Pray for me.”

”Godspeed, soldier.”

Ryuji, like a wild animal on the loose in the streets of Tokyo, jumps on the handrails and begins his descent that way, begging to the skies that he doesn’t slip and create a domino effect that knocks down a dozen people.

In thirty seconds flat (with no small amount of cursing from both the customers and himself) he jumps off and lands (tumbles) onto the third floor, grinning triumphantly. Eat your heart out, Sumire.

“Oracle, I’m here. Almost broke my ankles. Where to?”

”Straight ahead,” she replies. ”Only one left, though. Better make it quick.”

His eyes land on the last game console, and he sees someone making their way towards it. “Not a problem.”

Ryuji sprints.

Throwing every societal rule and common courtesy into the air, he makes a mad dash and, somehow, miraculously does not bump into anyone or knock down any huge shelves.

In approximately 3 seconds, he grabs his treasure and yells a very loud but completely genuine “sorry!” over his shoulder as he half runs back to the stairs, face red for multiple reasons.

Delving back into the sea of the crowd, trying to navigate himself to the cash register, he sighs. “I’m going to hell.”

”Mission success, then?”

“I had to steal it from some guy! I feel so bad. What if he’s like, buying it for his long lost son or something?”

”Whatever! That’s just part of the Black Friday spirit. Congrats! At least you finally got a game console.”

“Huh? Oh, I already had one.”

Static crinkles in his ear, before, ”WHAT!?”

“Ow! Don’t yell!”

”You already had one and you still did this shopping run?”

“Yeah…?”

”Why?! Are you gonna sell it? Are you one of those sleazy men who take advantage of the good will of gamers, Sakamoto?”

“Hell no!”

”So—“

“Oops, almost at the front of the cash register. I’ll drop off the goods at Akira’s. Talk to you later, shortie.”

Click.

”Wha— Hey! Ryuji!” Silence. “Ugh!”

————

After a much-deserved nap, Futaba climbs up the stairs to Akira’s attic.

“The star has arrived!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Where’s Ryuji?”

“He left,” Akira answers. He’s looking at something on his worktable. “Your stuff is on the bed.”

Futaba whoops and snatches up the little plastic bag. Peering inside, she sees an adorable GTX hot pink graphics card, and a note. In a horrific scrawl, it writes: dont tell him plz ;)))

She looks up quizzically when her eyes land on Akira’s desk: A shiny new game console.

“Um…”

“Hmm?” he looks up. “Oh, Ryuji dropped it off. Said his mom won it at work, and since he already had one, he gave it to me. Nice, right?”

She opens her mouth, before closing it with a clack. Just two weeks ago, Ryuji had asked Akira in the group chat if they could play video games at his place. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget about Akira’s situation: false accusation, an attic for a room, no definitive meals, not even a proper bathroom in the building, but Akira plays it off like it’s easy. He answered by making a joke that he’s too poor for something like that when you can buy faux battle axes and realistic shotguns instead. Everyone had forgotten about that interaction.

But apparently, Ryuji hadn’t.

He’s an idiot, Futaba thinks. To which boy she’s referring to, she’s not sure.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead. “It’s nice.”

====

The dust motes flying around the attic of Leblanc are lovely. Swirling in senseless formations, floating through the still air like snow. The way none of them collide with each other, as if they have some sort of motion detector that tells them to move out of the way. It’s pleasing to look at.

It’s a shame Ryuji doesn’t give a single shit about them at this moment.

He’s sitting on Akira’s bed, back pressed against the window sill with his hair tipped up, staring unfocused at the wooden beams, eyes glazed over. He’s been like this for the better part of the day, and now the evening is slipping by him. Time continues ticking on like a rigged bomb; an ongoing reminder of how many seconds he’s losing, and how much more he can lose.

He’s considered moving. To walk around the room, shift the dust that’s surely settled on him. Getting up, stretching his legs, outwardly expelling some of his trapped, balled up energy is a good idea. Healthy, even, if those shitty YouTube videos he’s watched on his phone about anger management were on to something. But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

Amidst all the uncertainty and the wound-up anxiety that has currently made permanent residence deep inside his core, he knows that if lets his joints unlock, he’s going to fucking lose it.

Slam a fist inside the dry wood, tear up a blanket, throw the adorable ramen bowl he gave Akira against the wall until it shatters into a hundred pieces. He’s so terrified of ruining this room that he won’t even give himself the option. And Ryuji would rather let hell freeze over than scare Futaba again in his fit of fucked-up rage that comes with the package that is Sakamoto Ryuji.

So he’s stuck on the bed for God knows how long.

Footsteps come up, and he doesn’t need to look down to know who’s going to chew him out. If it’s not Akira that’s going to chide him out of his stupor (which it isn’t, even though Ryuji would do anything if it means that Akira’s back here with them), then they’d send in someone who’d drag him out of it with her nails perfectly manicured.

“You look terrible.”

“Screw off,” Ryuji spits automatically, and he cringes inwardly. Ann doesn’t deserve the sharp end of his horrible mood. It’s not her fault that it feels like his insides feel like they’re trying to eat their way out.

She ignores him and moves to hop on top of the old work desk. The wood creaks underneath her. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I know.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. No.” He feels Ann’s stare burn into the side of his face—a ghost of Carmen’s presence. “I don’t know.”

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Irritation swells in him. She’s never learned to take a hint in her life. “Really? Are you seriously saying that?”

“Are you saying he would?”

“I’m saying he’s too busy having the living shit beat out of him to see me like this.”

His body twitches, and that’s all he needed for his resolve to break down. He jumps from the bed, feet landing heavily enough that he’s sure they can all hear him from the floor below. Unconsciously, his feet pace around the small room; quick with agitation but heavy with dread. Anything to distract from doing something stupid.

“You’re worried about me, what, not sleeping? For lying down on this damn bed for too long? Screw that. Akira’s being grilled like cheap meat for the past couple of days and you’re expecting me to act normal about it? That’s bullshit.”

Bad. This is bad. His fingers are already curling in his fists, eager and all too willing to be used. He settles for balling the edge of his shirt instead.

“He isn’t here. That’s the fact, isn’t it? And what the fuck am I doing about it? Freaking out? Trying not to throw a tantrum about it like some kind of stupid kid? Am I really this messed in the head that everyone on the team is—-is hiding from me like I’m some kind of—” he cuts himself off.

Delinquent.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully inhaling and slowly exhaling. He focuses on the dust motes again. In and out. Countdown from ten. He can do this. He can get a grip on himself. Thank God it was Ann that came up—if it had been anyone else, he doesn’t think he can put his pride aside as easily. (Unless it was Futaba. God, he loves her so much.)

For a while, it was silent except for his breathing; it stuttered occasionally, but eventually it evens out. Ann only watches from her perch.

When he feels stable enough, Ryuji drops to sit on the hardwood.

“Okay?” she asks. Ann never babies him when he gets like this—she’s good that way.

“Okay.” And he really is. Not completely, of course not. His nerves weren’t strung as tight, but he still feels a heavy weight right in his stomach.

She hops off the desk and goes to sit in front of him on the floor. Crossing her legs, Ann waits. They regard each other for a long minute.

“He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met,” he says. It feels weird saying this out loud, instead of repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record. “If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Sooner than later, his dumb ass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.”

“You bet he is.”

“And I get to yell at him as much as I want.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m not going to lose him tonight.”

Ann reaches over—slowly, giving him plenty of room to shift away—and places a hand on his knee. “You’re not going to lose him tonight.”

Ryuji laughs, a little breathy but still genuine. He prods at her hand. “When’d you get so good with me, Takamaki?”

“I do the Lord’s work around here, free of charge.” She grins, before her tone drops again. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“Lay it on me.”

Ann pulls back and leans on a propped hand, her blue eyes piercing. “When Akira comes back, and he will—”

“And he will. No doubt about it.”

“Obviously. He’s the best person for this. But when Akira comes back, he’s…” Ann gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “He’s not going to be okay, Ryuji.”

Somewhere in his mind, he already knew what she was going to say. While the biggest of his worries is that he’d never see Akira walk through the doors of Leblanc again, there was a quieter fear. A very specific fear, one that Ryuji knows all too well. Because stories don’t just end at the climax of a single event—they keep going. It’s the fear of what happens once he does see Akira.

The aftermath.

The bell chimes downstairs.

His heart lurches, and he makes the briefest of eye contact with Ann before he’s gone.

He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met.

It’s like his feet have a mind of their own.

If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.

In an instant, he’s scrambling towards the stairs on all fours before pushing himself up.

Sooner than later, his dumbass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.

His hand finds its hold on the old wooden railing as he sprints his way down. More than once, he almost trips and bangs his head into the wall.

And I get to yell at him as much as I want.

Rounding the corner, he jumps on the landing, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up his thigh. He ignores the stares from everyone else. Looking up his breath catches in his throat. Gray eyes meet his brown ones. He takes one step forward, and then another. And then he sprints the rest.

He’s going to be okay.

Ryuji stops himself right in front of him, an arms-length away. Akira’s face looked like it’s been through hell and back. Split lip, black eye, bruised cheekbone. An intense fury flares up his spine when he sees the grime and dirt up along his temple.

He hesitates.

As much as he wants to reach forward, close the gap, to make sure that this boy that he can’t afford to lose is real… he can’t do it.

Because he knows what would happen if he tries to cross a boundary that isn’t ready to be crossed—he might not be ready. Ryuji could hurt him by touching any injuries he doesn’t know about (God, how much more is he hiding in there? He’s this close to either throwing up or throwing a punch). But what he’s most scared about, what he’s terrified of doing, is touching Akira in the state of mind he’s in right now. For someone to grip him, grab him, even just brush past him right now, it might be too much. Judging by how beat up he looks just from his face? That does shit to people. That changes you.

Ryuji would know. So he keeps his distance.

Akira’s eyes turn dark, and for a second, Ryuji is terrified that he must’ve overstepped a boundary.

Then he throws his arms around Ryuji, the force knocking them both back by a couple of steps.

“Akira?” he asks, bewildered. Never in their friendship has he seen Akira act like this. It sends alarm bells ringing through his head. “What—”

“Don’t,” Akira cuts off, voice hoarse and quiet, so quiet that even this close, Ryuji is straining to hear him. The arms around him tighten. “Don’t be like that. Please. I can’t. Not right now, Ryuji.”

It hits him all at once. And in his sixteen years of living, Ryuji doesn’t think he’s ever been stupider.

Akira’s been trapped in an interrogation room with nothing but a bunch of make-believe police officers. He got the shit beat out of him, had to stage his own suicide.

And Ryuji just tried to push him away.

He lets his arms wrap around Akira tightly; not too tight, but enough to make sure he won’t slip away from him again. (Never again. Not if he can help it.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers. Tilting his head up, he stares at the soft lighting of Leblanc, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly—not for fear of losing his temper, but for fear of exposing the tears silently streaming down his face. “So fucking glad.”

Akira doesn’t answer. He only buries his face deeper into Ryuji’s shoulder.

Ann was right—Akira isn’t okay. Not for now, not for awhile. It’s up to Ryuji and everyone else in their group of friends to fix that. That’s fine. They’ll all take as long as they need. He isn’t okay right now, but he will be. They can work on that.

But one thing was clear.

I’m not going to lose him tonight.

====

Summer in Mementos is pretty gross.

Granted, it’s always nasty in here—there’s a perpetual air of moisture, like the inside of a whale, if Ryuji had ever been in one (he’s basing that off of an American movie Ann showed them last week; he didn’t even know it was possible for a fish to get lost in the ocean). There’s also the ongoing sound of trains passing by them on loop, and to him, trains are just inherently cramped and humid and always too sticky for his liking.

Of course, there’s the disgusting, weird amalgamated Shadows that litter every level of Mementos. At least in Palaces they sort of resemble something from the real world, but he guesses they didn’t even bother with these ones. The worst part of all this is that right now, it’s hot, but not hot enough for the Shadows to process a heat wave.

So essentially, they’re fighting with additional bucket loads of sweat, but with none of the usual reward that comes with it.

Well, not that they needed it.

“Fox.”

“As you wish.”

Yusuke’s boots skid to a halt as he points his katana at the fast-moving Shadow, the tip perfectly still. “Your assistance, Goemon.”

They’re on their weekly Mementos grind, the list Mishima keeps updating finally too long to ignore. (Akira hates it when things pile up. It’s a big reason why Ryuji hastily cleaned up every time he wanted to come over. Now though, he doesn’t even bother.)

The current All-Star team includes Yusuke, Makoto, Ryuji, and Akira, with the rest of them keeping a close eye in case they need a quick shift in strategy.

From his katana, black ice crawls in the ground beneath rusted train tracks, the air suddenly chilly despite the humidity that was there a moment ago. Frost shoots forward, encasing the legs of the Shadow only to shatter with a strong jerk forward. It roars, the ear-piercing sound causing the scattered debris around them to vibrate. Akira clicks his tongue.

Strong against ice. Easy fix. Ryuji mouths the words along with Akira when he says, “Panther, you’re up.”

“Finally!”

Ann darts in, high-fiving Yusuke as he rushes out. Ryuji can see Makoto pat Yusuke on the back, sympathy etched on her expression and Futaba mussing his hair. He always took it the hardest when he had to be switched out.

Akira’s gloved fingers brush the edge of his monochrome mask. “Come, Principality.”

As if a human version of justice has been summoned down to earth, the winged statue floats for a moment, eyes filled with scorn as she casts a simple, yet effective memory loss spell. The Shadow shakes its head aggressively. It works, but it won’t hold for long.

“Skull.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He grins and sprints right, squeezing into the Shadow’s blindside. It tries to twist around to take a swipe at him, but Ryuji is too fast—he slides right between its legs to confuse and disorient it. Once it seems like it completely lost sight of him, he raises his hand to grip the edge of his black mask. “Come on out, Captain!”

It’s a classic tactic; make the enemy lose focus, stun it, and stop it.

A pirate straight out of the Caribbean materializes from the embers of his mask—Captain Kidd in all of his glory regards the Shadow with a look of disdain before sparks fly from the hull of his ship, and an intense streak of lightning bursts forth, shocking its target like something from a regrettable movie about torture, knocking it down to the ground, a buzz perceptible even from here. He might have overdone it.

Ann whistles. “You didn’t even let me get a chance with it.”

“You can have the next million Shadows we bump into, I promise.” He calls Captain back into his mask, fragmented pieces forming together impossibly quick. “We good, Leader?”

Akira nods. “Just let me get the loot,” he smiles at Ryuji. “Awesome voltage on that last one, Skull.”

A grin stretches over his face before he can stop himself. He won’t deny it—getting a compliment from Joker was always something he filed away for later.

He’s too busy feeling pride surge through him that he can’t even bother to get ticked off when he hears Morgana scoff. “It doesn’t matter how good that attack was; he got in the way of Lady Panther’s finishing blow. That’s a crime in my eyes.”

“But doesn’t that just mean he saved her from doing anything?” Makoto raises an eyebrow. “Technically, he prevented any danger from befalling her, right?”

“Queen, as a gentleman, I have an obligation to tell you that that is a sexist notion.”

“You did not just say that.”

Something makes Ryuji pause. Immediately, his eyes flicker around them automatically. He tunes their chattering out, and finds himself tapping his foot, a slight jitter overcoming him. His nerves are trying to tell him something. Or maybe he’s imagining it? Is it just an aftershock from the intense lightning he cast out? No. It’s been too long since he’s had any problem with electric moves, and he’s never had problems from ones that he threw out himself.

Something was wrong, and he can’t put his finger on it.

He rattles his brain trying to figure out what it is. No one’s hurt, everyone’s safe and together. Well, mostly together, since Akira’s still approaching the Shadow—

A cold sweat drapes the back of his neck. Akira is still approaching the Shadow.

The Shadow hasn’t disintegrated yet.

“Akira—!”

The name slips past his lips, codenames forgotten. In slow motion, Ryuji sees Shadow’s body tense, its mouth frothing with what looks like liquid magma made from pits of hell—specializes in curse, and a strong one at that; Ryuji can feel the potency of its malignancy from where he’s standing. He watches as Akira stiffens, fingers twitching towards his mask, ready to retaliate, or at the very least, defend. And like a domino effect of bad luck, Ryuji feels bile rise to his throat.

Akira is good at what he does. Infuriatingly good. Took the whole Metaverse bullshit like a fish to water. But even he can’t switch Personas the same moment he summons them.

Principality would crumple like tissue paper against the Shadow. And Akira along with it.

You’re too late, a voice whispers in his head. You wouldn’t make it.

A heartbeat passes. And then Ryuji is flying.

It’s never too late, screams back something stronger, something unshakeable. Not ever. Especially not for him.

His boots hit the ground like the first strike of lightning amidst a storm—impossibly fast and unexpected. Lungs wheezing and legs throbbing, he crossed the distance in the span of a breath.

The Shadow throws the curse at Akira, red and black and filled to the brim with intensity, and Akira’s eyes can only widen, pupils dilated wildly to the point where there’s only black—a mirror of what’s about to hit him if Ryuji isn’t fast enough.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Ryuji shoves Akira, hard enough that he crashes onto the ground and he can hear the breath forcefully leave his lungs, and suddenly Ryuji can’t hear anything at all. His fingertips are fire and ice, his sense of surroundings have completely dissipated. Any energy in his body is being drained, like a dam cracked into millions of pieces—and all he’s left with is air. Vaguely, he can hear a choking noise, a broken sort of sound.

The blow is not just a violent one—it never is, with curse attacks. Instead of just feeling his skin bruised or blood running down his temple, he also feels himself get weaker, his mind growing heavier. An attack on the mind and body; a perfect cocktail of fucked up.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is the glint from Akira’s knife slicing through the Shadow’s throat.

====

Tokyo is currently at a wicked thirty two degrees.

The sun radiates scorching temperatures down from the sky, the concrete eagerly absorbing every bit of its heat, making something akin to walking across hot coals. It’s hot enough that a mirage is visible to the naked eye. It’s hot enough that every ice cream store has a forty-minute line-up. It’s hot enough that no birds were flying, in fear that they may truly be fried by the sun above them.

Basically, it’s hot as hell.

“Ryuji-chan, pick up the pace!”

But Haru is more vicious than any conceivable temperature.

Looking like a survivor who was lost in the desert for several days, Ryuji lets out a half-garbled battle cry and sprints the last dozen meters. Haru clicks her stopwatch.

Sitting on a lovely lilac blanket, she tsks from underneath the shade. “Three seconds slower.”

“Ugh!” he collapses beside her on the cool grass. If she looks at him from a certain angle, she can see the steam positively radiating off of him. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of the sun.”

“You know I’d support you in anything you do, Ryuji-chan, but I don’t think you’d be fast enough to catch it,” Haru says. She hands him a cold water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

He rolls over so that he can squint up at her. “You’re mean.”

“I’m harsh,” she corrects, shaking the bottle in her hand. “There’s a difference.”

He takes it. “Have you done this before?”

“Helped someone train in running? No. But,” she rummages through her pastel pink tote bag, and proudly shows him a handful of books. He squints at them. “Since I’m so new to the group and everyone has such broad interests, I decided to try reading up on them! Did you know that drinking cold water after running results in less dehydration than drinking warm water?”

Ryuji stares at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re mean. You’re not mean. You’re real nice, Haru.”

She smiles at him and pats his head, despite the overflowing heat and moisture settled on top. “You’re very sweet Ryuji-chan, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the tough-love kind of coach.” Ryuji sits up, cracking open the seal. Chugging down the water, he makes eye contact with Haru before slowing down substantially.

He dumps the rest of it on his head, sighing and shivering in relief. “That’s the good shit.”

“Why not wait for the sun to go down a bit?” she suggests. “The heat is really scorching, and there’s still plenty of time to keep training later.”

“Nah,” he stretches his arms behind his head before he stands again. “I gotta keep going while I still can.”

Haru frowns. “Overexertion isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy head! I may be stupid, but I know when to stop when I gotta.”

“I really think you should rest for a bit.”

“I will when I’m done, I promise.”

“You looked rough in that last lap—”

“Haru,” Ryuji is grinning, but his tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m going to keep training.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Haru’s shoulder sags slightly. “Alright.” He’s about to say something when she cuts him off. “But only if you tell me why you’re so insistent.”

Ryuji shrugs. “If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then sure. It’s kinda stupid, though.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Oh, wait till you hear it,” he laughs, a little shy. “So you know how Mona and Futaba are, like, the Metaverse experts? And Makoto is the big brain? And Yusuke does the whole calling card part?” Haru nods, and he continues. “Well, I’m not really… anything. Ann already took the role of moral support and there’s no way in hell I’m the ‘brain’ in anything. Jeez, last time I picked up a paintbrush was in kindergarten. So I figured, I’d be the fast one, you know? The one that can get to someone fast enough to help them out.” Ryuji’s grin turns into something softer; less edge and more fond. It does something to her heart. “And if it’d help ‘Kira down the line, then it’d be worth it, right?”

Haru stays silent.

“Anyway! That’s enough of that cheesy shit.” He moves back to the track, running shoes scuffing at the concrete. “Wish me luck, maybe I can actually catch up to the sun this time. Teach it a lesson.”

“Ryuji.“

Looking back, he gives her a curious look. “Yeah?”

Haru hesitates.

I never once thought you were stupid. You’ve given so much more to the team than you can imagine. You have no idea how many times you’ve helped Akira without even lifting a finger.

“I have a cooler full of water behind me, so… please try your best out there.”

Ryuji gives her an enthusiastic salute. “Yes ma'am!”

He runs off, the sun continuing to beat down him relentlessly.

====

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryuji knew they were all going to die someday. It’s inevitable. The circle of life, the winds of time, la vie en rose, etc.

He just didn’t expect it to happen at the age of 16, on the sinking cognitive ship of their next Prime Minister, wearing a wack-ass leather outfit surrounded by his panicking friends.

“We’re going to die!” Futaba wails, knees shaking uncontrollably to the point where she can hardly keep standing. “I don’t know how to swim!”

“It’ll be fine,” Akira spits through gritted teeth. He’s far tenser than anyone else, red gloves formed into fists and eyes constantly darting around to see what can save their lives. “We just need to focus.”

Makoto points to something on their right and shouts, “There! A lifeboat!”

Sprinting down the slowly escalating ramp, their eyes widen at the single lifeboat propped at the very top of the bow—which is slowly approaching a ninety degree angle. They all had one thought in their minds.

“We’re not going to make it in time,” Yusuke says, quietly.

Akira bangs his fist into a nearby column. “To hell with that. There’s no way I’m letting us die here.”

A heavy silence falls over them. The air is practically crackling with electricity and pure agitation, but there’s also a determination between all of that. Everyone’s overcome with a need to protect their friends and teammates, but they were at a loss of what to do. A quiet realization overcomes the group—there wasn’t going to be a miracle to save them.

Ryuji’s eyes land on Akira. He’s scanning the area, Third Eye activated but unable to pick up anything that isn’t the lifeboat. There’s no panic in his clear, gray eyes, but the terror in it is the most prevalent out of anyone present.

It hits Ryuji, all at once. The boy in front of him may be his age, and even younger than some members of their group, but he is undoubtedly the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves. Every decision he made had led them here, in this moment, in their imminent death. And if he lets them all get taken, whether it’s through the ocean or the approaching explosions behind him, the truth of the matter is Akira feels that he would be responsible. That it’s his fault that a cognitive boat would take the lives of his friends.

Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ryuji clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds and slowly opens them. He begins to jump in place, hyping himself up.

“Skull…?” Haru asks, brows furrowing.

“Hang tight, guys,” he says, taking quick breaths. He can do this. “I’ll nab the boat.”

A chorus of gasps and heated objections rang through the air, and Akira steps forward, more shaken than Ryuji’s ever seen him. “No. Skull, please—”

Ryuji throws him a wobbly grin, more for Akira than himself. In one smooth motion, he jumps down and hits the ground running.

“No!”

Immediately, he feels his knees and thighs begin to protest, only intensifying the further he sprints up. For a minute, if Ryuji closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s in a meet. A race. That the screams he hears behind him are his track mates, and not teammates, friends, best friends that would die if he failed to get to the boat fast enough.

He pushes himself even more.

It’s a miracle that he gets to the raft before his legs give out, and he feels a satisfying crank underneath his palms when he rotates the lever. As he throws a thumbs up at his friends, seeing them safe, healthy, alive, he feels relieved beyond words.

He makes eye contact with Akira, and he really should’ve expected the explosion that comes next.

====

His ceiling has seventy-nine plastic stars.

Ryuji stares up at it from his bed, arms crossed behind his head; they’d long since lost their cheap light. It was raining hard outside, enough to rattle against his window like pebbles calling for his attention. He ignores them.

It’s been years since he got those stars—dating all the way back in middle school. He got into a bad habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night to look at the sky from the roof of their apartment building. It scared the shit out of his ma when she finally caught him, scolded him to hell and back. By the end, they found a compromise: she’d buy him a crap ton from the hundred yen store, and they’d stick it up together. When they did, it kept falling down, so she went back and bought him a bottle of superglue. Now you can’t take them off, even if you tried to use a little scraper.

It bothered him, for a while. Young boys were cruel, and anyone who came to visit always poked fun of him for it. It wasn’t until he visited Akira’s room one day, saw how pleased he was that Yusuke bought them for him that he couldn’t help but revel at his own stars again, after all this time.

Ryuji twists his body sideways, ripping his eyes away from the plastic figures. Enough of that.

His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness that surrounds him, allowing a clear view of his room in the limited moonlight. Laundry splayed around his tatami mat from his sprints training today, gaming controllers scattered on the center table from when Akira came over a few days ago. That was a blast. He helped him beat a boss he’s been stuck on for weeks, and Akira beat it like it was nothing, it was the coolest shit ever—

Ryuji forces himself to flip over to glare at the wall. Sleep. That’s a better idea.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his breathing to go steady. There’s lots to do tomorrow—school is a drag, but they plan on meeting up at Leblanc afterwards. The thought allows his muscles to relax. Really, the atmosphere of Leblanc is just so pleasing to him. The warm lighting, the run-down booths, even the smell is a welcome presence. Well, that’s mostly because Akira drags it with him wherever he—

Slowly, his eyes open.

It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?

He rolls onto his back, in a position to stare at the stars again. The rain hammers on.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid.

It’s not a self jab, it wasn’t manifested by some sort of long-standing insecurity. It’s a fact. He’s never been good with a book, never done anything half-decent by picking up a pencil, his mind was never programmed to listen and retain information in long classes. It’s definitely not like he’s the brains of the Thieves, never a strategist of some kind. His ma encouraged him to take on a tutor in the past, and he’d rather bite a finger off than spend her money on wasted potential, so he found himself wandering the streets of Central Street as a way to pass time.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid, but even he knows he’s irrevocably, completely, stupidly in love with Kurusu Akira.

He sits up and ruffles his hair, frustrated. There are too many things wrong with that sentence, too many things that can go wrong because of that sentence. Of course, he finds the one thing that can mess up the unshakeable foundation that he and Akira built for each other. He must’ve really pissed off some God upstairs for him to have a hell-bent queer awakening with his best friend.

No, that’s wrong. It was the furthest thing from hell-bent—it was soft, it was gray, it was raining, and most importantly, it took its time.

They were halfway through Kamoshida’s Palace when Ryuji realized it; the sheer amount of power that hindsight gave him made him pause long enough to get clocked out by a Shadow.

Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because he would never, ever do anything to fuck up what he has. Not again.

Wait, no, that’s not true. Even before Kamoshida, he’s never had something like this. He’s never had someone like him. He’s never had someone who’s so entirely on the same wavelength as him, who’d have his back even when his was against a wall. Kurusu Akira is…ethereal. Out of this world. Cool as fuck. (Hot as fuck, too.) If you lined up the entirety of Tokyo and told him he could pick one. One person out of the whole lineup to be his friend, he’d have his answer in a heartbeat.

See, now that isn’t something that changed with hindsight—Ryuji’s known that he’s been in love with Akira since before they completed Kamoshida’s Palace. And when he figured it out, he didn’t feel shock. His eyes didn’t widen, his heart didn’t start thumping like crazy. It’s more like he just scratched his head in a huh kind of way. It felt like his life had been waiting for that day in April, like everything was at a standstill until he finally met Kurusu Akira. It made sense. Everything just makes sense when Akira’s involved.

Which just makes this all the more fucked up.

He knocks his head back against the wall, eyes stuck on the raindrops’ rapidly moving shadows on his bedroom floor. Karma. That’s probably what’s happening. The world still hasn’t forgiven him for losing his shit, so they decided to make him pine for the only person that he can’t afford to lose.

He can’t even stomach the idea of trying to get over it, to try and put distance between himself and Akira. He spent a lifetime waiting for a miracle, for someone who didn’t know existed. He’s not giving up a single second of time with him. That’s probably why the world relentlessly shits on him; he’s selfish enough to keep the feelings that he has. But he can’t bring himself to regret that decision. Not with the way his breath hitches in his throat whenever Akira walks into the room.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He’s accepted it. Just like how the sky is blue, or that he well and truly hates Calculus. It’s a factor of life.

The rain seemed to fall harder, droplets sounding like rigorous hail against the windowpane. He lets out a long yawn.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

That’s not the reason why he can’t sleep at night.

Akira is a quiet guy. He gets his point across with as few words as possible, as if each letter costs him fifty yen to say out loud. So he speaks through his expression; a quirk of his brow, a tilt of his head, a certain smile is enough to carry half of the conversation.

And, every once in a while, Akira gets a look.

It comes up at the weirdest times—when the two of them baton pass in the Metaverse, when Ryuji eats ramen too fast and gets sick, when he helps an old lady cross the street. Plenty of times it’s because Ryuji is doing something incredibly stupid (like when he said that the square root of sixteen is six, because if you just get rid of the one, then that makes sense, right?), or when they’re laughing so hard neither of them can breathe. But sometimes it comes up in quieter moments, too. The two of them talking quietly in the attic at Leblanc, or when Akira confesses that he’s relieved Ryuji’s always there for him. (As if there would ever be a time where he won’t be.)

The look is subtle enough to miss but easy to find if someone knows what they’re looking for. The usual attentiveness that resides in Akira’s eyes disappears, in its place a softer gaze; his pupils get dilated, and the edge of his eyes get all crinkled like Valentine’s tissue paper. A half-smile rests on his lips, never quite turning into a full-blown grin, but that’s okay. For some reason, it all reminds Ryuji of the moon. Of soft moonlight. Of streetlamps on empty roads.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s a small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that his best friend might love him back.

His eyelids slide shut, though he knows that it won’t be enough to let him rest.

Realistically, he’s probably wrong. Akira isn’t in love with him, and he’s only seeing what he wants to see. With every eligible person seeming to fall in love with him at some point in time, how would it even be possible that Akira would love him?

He rubs his eyes, desperate to get rid of the unending fatigue that’s plagued him for months on end. It doesn’t work.

Bad excuse. Akira does love him, just like he loves everyone he encounters and befriends and ends up risking his life for. Ryuji’s surprised Akira hasn’t passed out yet, given his bleeding heart for the entire population of Tokyo.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as he rubs his eyes harder.

But what if he wasn’t wrong? What if the signals he’s seeing aren’t based on misunderstood yearning?

When his eyes start to burn, his fingers move up to his hair.

There’s no way in hell he’d ever risk losing his best friend. His partner. His Akira. It’s not something he can gamble. It’s not worth it.

He begins to tug, hands shaking, and he can barely feel the sting of pain from nearly pulling his hair out his scalp.

It’s not worth it. He decided that in the very beginning.

Ryuji buries his face into his palms.

But he is so, so exhausted of being tired.

Lightning flashes, and for a split-second, his room is bright.

Fuck it.

By the time thunder rumbles through his apartment, he’s already out the front door.

His sneakers squelch against the wet concrete, soaking his unsocked feet. He’s sprinting fast enough that the street lights around him blur, and he can feel quick breaths getting pulled out of him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he forgot to wear a raincoat, but he doesn’t care.

Akira is his best friend. Akira accepted him, flaws and all. Akira loves him, one way or another. That’s what held him back. He can’t risk losing that.

Ryuji quickly checks both sides before running across the street, wiping the rain off his brow, and keeps going.

But that’s what should’ve pushed him into confessing sooner. Because if that’s all true, then that can only ever mean that Akira would accept this part of him too, right?

He jerks out of the way as he almost barrels over a fire hydrant, making him step into a deep puddle. It doesn’t slow him down.

Maybe he would’ve realized it sooner if he wasn’t too fucking tired to think straight.

His lungs begin to complain, his breaths turning to wheezes, but he ignores it in favor of going faster.

Too late for that now. All the matters now is to talk to—

He skids to a halt.

In front of him—eyes wide, hair drenched, no shoes—stands Kurusu Akira.

Ryuji’s mouth falls open, and for a minute, he almost laughs. Of course. He should’ve known. Just as he’s willing to sprint to Akira at an unholy hour in the night…

He smiles sheepishly at him, and Ryuji feels his chest constrict in the loveliest way possible.

…Akira would do the exact same thing for him.

The rain slows, and the thunder ceases for a moment. The world pauses long enough for both of them to speak in the same breath, the same heartbeat:

“I’m in love with you.”

#fic tag #akiryu #pegoryu #fanfic #writing #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #mine #desperate as that sounds #and yeah man thats a jon bellion song #fic

39 notes · View notes