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drivinmeinsane · 6 months

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Bad Dog

※ Ryan Gosling!Ken x GN!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You have volunteered to give Ken a lesson in being a good dog. It takes a firm hand to get positive results.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Petplay, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Bondage and Discipline, Bondage, Strap Sucking, Ken has glittery cum (glizz), Instances of crack treated seriously, Allan is an innocent bystander, Semi-public sex

※ Word count: 4,274

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Happy glizz fest everyone! Be sure to check out the wonderful participatory works by @hollandstrophyhusband, @ken-dom, @uncleclam, @danime25, and @ken-f-cker. A huge thanks goes to @yohohotookabiteofgumgum. This goofy fic would still be rotting in my drafts if she hadn’t helped me cook.

It’s evening by the time you find yourself at the door of what has now permanently become Ken’s mojo dojo casa house. Barbie hadn’t wanted to keep it, electing to move on with her existence in the real world. Ken hadn’t had the wherewithal to do the same. He remained in this plastic oasis, still coming to terms with being ‘just Ken’. He wasn’t progressing anything that had happened to him. There are still too many patriarchal ideas knocking around in that blond head of his, which is where you come in.

The other Barbies had been nervous about letting you go alone to confront him, but you had reassured them that you would be able to handle the situation just fine. Ken wouldn’t be a problem. He just needed a firm hand.

You press the large, heart shaped button serving as the doorbell. The chime echoes easily through the open concept home. Almost immediately, you hear the noises of objects being tossed aside as Ken hurries to answer the door. He swings the door open with such energy that you have to take a step back to avoid being hit with the saloon door. He stands in the doorway, arm slung over the plastic.

“Hey.” He squints at you, clearly confused as to why you’re not his ex-girlfriend.

You take in his disheveled appearance. It’s late and Ken has stripped off all the extra accessories that he piles on each time he leaves the house for the day. He’s just in his pants with the lightning bolts down the side. There’s not a watch or headband in sight. He looks softer like this, more authentic.

“Hi, Ken. I’m here to help you,” you tell him before going on the offensive and putting a hand on his bare chest. Despite himself, his eyes flutter closed at your touch and he shudders. Your other hand is occupied with holding onto your overflowing bag.

“H-help me with what?” When he speaks, it sounds as though he’s struggling to form thoughts, much less sentences. You’ve already overwhelmed him and you haven’t even gotten him upstairs yet.

“Being a better member of Barbieland,” you respond, trailing your hand down his chest before pulling it away. Depriving him. He nearly pitches over forward to chase after the contact. He’s even more needy than you had expected.

He barely collects himself enough to scramble for the macho persona he’s developed to make up for his insecurities. He can’t quite put on the indifferent mask, not when he’s looking at you with such wide eyes. He stands aside though, allowing you to pass by him into the spacious home.

“What do you mean by a… better member?”

“I’ve heard that you haven’t been a very good Ken lately, a lot of dolls are upset with what you’ve been getting up to.”

He frowns at your chiding words and looks away. There’s shame in the movement and you almost think he might apologize, making the lesson you came here to teach obsolete. The horse decor is so overwhelming that you reach out and gently cup his chin to get him to look at you. He’s a more pleasant sight than the 72’ inch screen of the same horse video looping over and over again. You ignore the tapestry fluttering in the corner over his shoulder.

The blond doll is trying to put on an indifferent face and failing miserably. “It’s impossible to do anything right. I can’t even get an appliance that has freezer space. ”

Your face softens. “I know. I can help you learn.”

“There’s nothing for me to learn. I learned everything I needed to know in Century City.” He pauses, taking in the hand still under his chin. He straightens up and pulls you into his muscular arms. You fight back surprise as he swings you into a low dip. “For instance, I learned what to do when someone pretty comes to your house in the middle of the night…”

He purses his lips and leans down to plant a kiss on you. You slap him across the face, hard. “Bad dog!”

Ken recoils, nearly dropping you as he reels back. He lets you drag yourself back into an upright position by using his shoulder for support. You shove his clinging arms away.

“I didn’t give you permission,” you say. Your tone is cold.

His eyes flit away from you. He’s holding onto his cheek with one broad hand. “Men don’t need permission.”

“Ken, you’re going to learn that they do.”

That gets a sarcastic laugh out of him. It’s unbearably obnoxious and part of you wants to strike him across the face again. You manage to hold yourself back by reassuring yourself that he’s about to get what he deserves.

“Prove it,” he says to you. He’s way too cocky.

He wilts a little under your unimpressed gaze. Even now, Ken is in desperate need of approval. That desire is what had gotten him into trouble in the real world. You suppose the fault doesn’t rest solely upon his shoulders when you consider that he had been treated like a second rate citizen, an accessory , for who knows how long.

You catch him by the arm. He brightens up at the meager contact. He follows willingly as you make the trek to the third floor. The bedroom is equally a decorative disaster to the ground floor, but you’re not here to make too many judgements about his interior design choices. You separate from him to put your bag down on the horse themed bedspread before pulling out the first of the many items you will be using for Ken’s lesson. You turn to face him. He stands slightly off to the side near one of the support pillars. The pose he’s striking seems to be one that’s attempting to portray an aura of confidence, but it doesn’t seem to be working out for him. He seems wrong-footed and uncertain.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He rolls his eyes at your demand but listens. The innate desire to obey is still in him. Tonight, your job will be to remind him that it exists. You feel like everything is going to plan while you calmly observe him settle in and look up at you expectantly from halfway across the room.

It’s time to move to the next stage. Thinking quickly, you pull his faux fur coat off the bed and spread it out onto the floor at your feet. “Come here.”

There’s a long moment where you think his pride will be too much, that he will refuse to listen to you, but he submits to your instruction once again. He does exactly what you meant for him to do. Instead of rising to his feet, he crawls across the floor to you. He pauses once he’s squarely on his coat. There’s a defiant look on his face that tries to inform you that he’s playing along just for now.

You kneel and fasten the collar that you’ve been holding in your hands around his neck. It fits snugly with just enough room to squeeze a couple fingers in between the bright pink material and his skin. There’s no tag on the collar. He hasn’t yet earned one. While he waits, you quickly pull out another object. After a quick adjustment, it’s ready.

“Take those off,” you order, gesturing to his pants, “and put this on.” you finish, throwing the mess of faux leather straps that you’ve been holding at him.

Ken picks up and turns it over in his broad hands, trying to decipher what it is. You don’t provide assistance. You’ve unclipped the arm restraints and tossed them onto the bed next to the bag. You’ll need them later. Ken isn’t quite at the point where you need that much control over him.

“This looks like something they had at that dance party place,” he mumbles to himself. You struggle to not raise your eyebrows. Just what had he gotten up to while in the real world?

His own words seem to assist him in connecting the dots because he flashes you a smirk. He launches into action. Almost as if he’s thinking this is some macho Century City display, he tries to sensually strip for you. He does an unnecessary amount of flexing and posturing while he pulls off his pants and clumsily tightens the straps around his waist and thighs. Once he’s sure everything is in place, he settles back on all fours. He’s fully naked now aside from the harness he’s wearing. The pink straps of the harness, made complete by the pink bows settled precisely on his asscheeks, are obvious against his tanned skin. He’s waiting rather impatiently for you to make the next move, but something else seems to register in his mind.

“Well? Why am I the only one exposed like this?” He asks, brow furrowed.

“It’s part of your lesson. Remember how you made the Barbies wear demeaning outfits?” You explain, trying to keep the condescension out of your tone. You would not be removing so much as your shoes during the duration of the lesson. He had done nothing to earn an eyeful of your skin. No visuals and no touching. Bad pets don't get the privilege.

He doesn’t respond, mulling over your words. You step onto the coat and offer him a pecan as a treat after pulling it from your pocket. His eyes light up at the sight of one of his favorite snacks and he eagerly takes it right from your hand. Good behavior gets rewarded. You decide to be magnanimous and offer him another scrap of affection. You pet him, running a firm hand over his head and down his back. He shivers at the touch.

“Part of being a good dog is minding your manners. Do you think you’ve been doing that?”

“You’re the one who is supposed to be listening to me, you know.” He’s smug in his wrongness.

That’s enough of a signal to you that the lesson needs to proceed. You slick your fingers liberally with the lube that you pulled from the bag during the time it took him to spew more patriarchal nonsense at you. You move into position behind him, crouching slightly to get better access. He turns to look at you curiously.

“Look straight ahead,” you correct.

He grumbles and you’re sure that he rolls his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I told you to do it. A good dog listens to his owner.”

“That’s not good enough of a reason.” He’s whiny, petulant.

You grab him by the hair and jerk his head into the position that you want. You’re thoroughly done with hearing him speak. “It’s about all the reason you gave the barbies when you decided to make Kendomland a reality.”

Ken stays silent after your rebuttal. His breathing is uneven, however, and you notice that he’s flushed. The back of his neck is all but glowing in the dim light. You decide that he’s ready. You transition your grip from his hair to his shoulder, hooking your fingers over the firm muscle. He won’t be able to go anywhere without purposely struggling. With your free hand, you nudge your way between his cheeks to circle his tight hole. He jerks at the unexpected touch and you feel him start to tremble in your hold as you slip a lubricated finger into him. You start pumping it inside of him, opening him up enough to introduce a second finger. He instinctively spreads wider for the intrusion. Perhaps he was made to be a different kind of doll.

By the time you’re scissoring your pointer and middle fingers in him to work up enough space for your ring finger, he’s a gasping, shaky mess. You cast a glance to check on his state and find him open mouthed and nearly drooling onto the faux fur coat underneath him, not even bothering to wipe his mouth. He’s trying to rock back against your hand, utterly smitten with the new sensation you’ve introduced him to. Abruptly, you withdraw your fingers. He whines, almost doglike, at the sudden emptiness.

“Good Ken, good.” He squirms at the praise. “You know that good boys get gifts and I have one to give you right now.”

You produce the butt plug you’ve brought with you and press it against his entrance. It slips in with no resistance, you had fucked him right open with your fingers. He makes a wounded noise and clenches around the new introduction.

“Oh Mattel! Oh Mattel !” He gasps, his arms are struggling to support him. He’s nearly face down on his coat while he fights to collect himself.

“Mattel can’t help you here.”

He tries to grab for his achingly hard erection. It has been left completely neglected during this entire lesson so far and it must have him at a breaking point. He can’t be allowed to give himself any relief, however. It would spoil the lesson. You slap him across the ass, avoiding the bow-adorned strap that crosses over the pliant flesh.

“That hurt,” he whines, the imprint of your hand blooming across his skin.

“Your actions hurt everyone in Barbieland,” you remind him.

“I was just trying to set things right,” he protests. His argument isn’t all that compelling given that he’s on his hands and knees with his asshole firmly plugged.

Letting out a sigh, you move to fully restrain him by putting the leather cuffs you had set aside earlier around his wrists. If he is going to try to touch himself without explicit permission, he needs to be bound. You guide his arms into place behind his back and clip them into place onto his harness. He’s fully restrained and completely at the mercy of whatever you decide to allow him.

Ken is trembling a little on spread knees. His body is curved into an uncomfortable arc while he sits back on his haunches. He’s a marble sculpture come to life, blinking and breathing, on the floor of his unfairly acquired residence. You know the unyielding butt plug must be digging into him in a way that feels pleasurable because his cock is standing at attention, glittery precum beading at the tip of his slit and shining like a diamond in the moonlight.

You leave him there, vulnerable and pent up, while you go to slip your own harness on. Unlike Ken’s, it’s not meant to restrict movement. You make the final adjustments to the straps and secure the dildo that you will be using for tonight’s session. It’s made of a crystal clear silicone, gradiented from purple to pink. His lips will look pretty wrapped around it.

Crossing the scant few feet between you and the waiting figure, you come to a stop in front of him. His gaze narrows in on the silicone cock sitting proudly against your clothed pelvis. It’s an easy thing to coax his mouth open. You simply press your thumb to the corner of his lips and he lets his jaw relax and opens up for you. Keeping his head steady with a hand fisted in his hair, you slowly push the dildo past his lips, sliding it over his tongue. You make him stretch forward so that he finds himself struggling to not choke himself on the silicone. You cannot make his lesson too easy, you’d be a bad trainer.

“Suck it,” you tell him, and he does.

His lips seal around the shaft and you’re glad that you can’t feel the inexperienced scrape of his teeth against it. You use your grip on his hair to drag him up and down the length of the dildo. Eventually he gets the hang of the motion and starts enthusiastically sucking you off. Your hand loosens in those blond strands and you merely watch him, letting him take control in this submissive capacity. He has no issues taking the silicone all the way to the base. His gag reflex is nonexistent. You praise Ken with small niceties when he makes a particularly effortful attempt. He receives a ‘good boy’ and a soft scratch of his scalp when he pulls all the way off and licks at the tip while sheepishly making eye contact with you.

Eventually, you do have to call it quits after he’s thoroughly acquainted himself with the dildo. You don’t want him too worn out before the main part of the training session gets underway. Sliding two fingers against his warm skin and the leather of the collar he’s wearing is enough to hold him in place as you slip out of his mouth. Strings of spit connect the tip of the silicone cock to his mouth. His lips are puffy and his eyes are a little glazed. He’s clearly used, maybe a little cock-drunk. He leans after the strap, nearly face planting onto the fabric underneath him in his eagerness to continue.

“Easy, Ken. Don’t get too excited.”

“I’m not excited,” he argues, voice rough. His body betrays him. He’s not slumped so far forward that you can’t see the way his erection twitches and shines with sparkling precum. He’s so wet and you haven’t even touched him.

“Of course not. Down.”

“Why? Haven’t I had enough?”

“Because your lesson isn’t over,” you explain patiently.

Ken hesitates, eyeing the coat. He lowers himself, chest first to the floor, hissing as his sensitive nipples receive the barest hint of stimulation. His face is all but rubbing into the faux fur. The position elevates his hips for easy access. You pull the butt plug from him and toss it onto the coat. It’s going to leave another wet spot. You get the dildo ready with lube. The rapidly drying saliva coating it isn’t going to provide enough slickness to penetrate him with.

He shifts uncomfortably while he waits for you to get prepared to breach him. Much to his obvious relief, he doesn’t have to wait too long before you’re taking his hips in hand and guiding him downwards onto the thick cock. He makes a sound like you’ve stricken him when you finally bottom out, your pelvis flush against his ass. He’s so tense against you that you take some pity on him and rub your thumb in soothing circles on his hip bone.

“Good dog. You’re taking it so well.”

The praise drags a shudder out of him but he relaxes. He can’t hide under layers of bravado and poorly understood misogyny gained from library books when he’s at your mercy like this. You set up a steady rhythm, punching noises out of him. He’s getting loud, too loud. If he doesn’t shut up he’s going to show the entirety of Barbieland how much of a slut he is. The Barbies were aware that you would be paying Ken a special visit tonight for some training, but you had neglected to inform them of what exactly that training would entail. Ken’s rehabilitation was taking a more intimate hand than they would have presumed and you would like to keep them in the dark about precisely what your method is. You needed to get him quiet.

Struck by a realization, you abruptly pull out, leaving Ken reeling and empty. You briskly dig the gag you had brought as an emergency measure out of the bag still resting on the bed. You should have known he would be as much of a loudmouth while getting fucked as he is in day to day life.

“Why did you stop? Are we gonna flip things around now?” He questions with a confused look on his face, sitting up slightly to watch what you’re doing. There’s no disguising the suggestive roll of his words. How he could still think he could end up on top at this point is a mystery. You have given him nothing to indicate that he would be at all dominant tonight.

He follows up his questions with another inquiry upon seeing the pink, silicone bone secured on its leather strap. “What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” you tell him, already trying to get it into position. Ken immediately sees where this is going. He doesn’t take it as easily as he’s taken everything else you’ve thrown at him tonight. He keeps his mouth tightly shut until you work a finger into the corner of it like you had earlier. He relents and allows you to slip the pink bone between his teeth and to buckle the strap around his head. Always desperate to please anyone who takes even a passing interest in him.

You trail a hand down his spine, grab his harness at the hip and guide yourself back into the tight heat of him. You resume thrusting into him like you had never left in the first place. It’s all he can do brace himself as best as he can while you fuck into him. He meets you thrust for thrust, chasing his own pleasure. You wonder if he will end up coming from this, untouched, glittery ropes splattering over his belly and over his coat. It would not surprise you.

Over the muffled and choked off gasps of the doll you’re playing with, you hear a scuffle and a sharp intake of breath. Your eyes scan the dreamhouse before you turn your searching gaze to the street below just to make direct eye contact with a horrified looking Allan. He’s staring comically wide-eyed at the scene unfolding in front of him. He hadn’t been a part of President Barbie’s meeting about tonight, and must have not heard from anyone to stay clear of the dreamhouse cul-de-sac. His face screams that he has seen too much. Mattel, if only he had been able to get out of Barbieland when he had had the chance.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak but thinks better of it, and to your own growing horror, he raises a hand and awkwardly waves to you. You weakly think that there are some occasions when neighborly courtesies can be skipped. To your own dismay, you take one of your own hands off Ken’s hip and wave back to Allan. You both wear matching grimaces. He breaks eye contact with a dazed shake of his head and recedes off into the darkness to do whatever it is he does at night. He must not be part of the Ken huddle if he’s wandering around near the dreamhouses this late. For his part, Ken is utterly oblivious during the exchange, too busy getting lost in forcing himself back onto your strap.

With a smothered shout, he finally cums, proving you right about falling over the brink completely untouched. He soaks the faux fur below him with an obscene amount of glittery semen. He shudders and clenches around the strap still seated in him. You fuck him through the aftershocks, wringing him dry. You think you can hear him sobbing around the gag from his face down position on the floor.

You slip free of his ass for the final time this evening and take off the strap-on harness in order to toss it onto the floor. It misses the coat. He doesn’t look at you when you kneel down at his side.

“Ken,” you say, voice soft. He jerks in acknowledgement but doesn’t turn. You reach over and undo the clips for the wrist restraints. He makes no effort to keep his arms from falling to his sides, leaden. You unbuckle the gag, working carefully to avoid snagging his hair in the process. Slipping a hand under his jaw to force his face off the coat, you pull the silicone bone from between his teeth. You tip his head towards you, but he refuses to make eye contact. His face is flushed and wet with tears and saliva. Despite yourself, you feel a small pang of sympathy at his state. It was deserved after the stunt he pulled, but he looks so fucked out and spent.

“Look at me.”

He does, obedient despite everything he’s been through. His blue eyes are teary and red-rimmed. His throat moves like he’s trying to speak but nothing comes out. Poor dog.

You grab hold of his arm, encouraging him to his feet. He stands unsteadily, almost swaying on his feet. While you undo his restraint system, you can’t help but notice that his coat is matted in wet patches. It won’t be coming clean, not with the glitter matting the fur. It’s just as well though, it was a symbol of Ken’s insecurities. You steer him the short distance to the bed after the pink straps of the harness fall at his feet. He sits down heavily on the edge of the mattress. You join him, getting comfortable before you guide him onto his side to let him rest his head on your lap. Remembering Ken’s earlier treat, you pull some pecans out of your pants pocket and offer them to him. He eats them right out of your hand.

“What did you learn?” You question, petting him while he chews.

“I think I like being a good dog. Will… will you visit again?” His voice falters, meek. He’s back to being the more docile version of himself that he was before the ill-fated trip to the real world, however, now he has enough experience to be more aware of his actions and the actions of others.

You continue petting him. “I suppose I could come by to pay my dog a visit if he keeps being a good boy.”

#barbie (2023)#ken #barbie fanfic #ken fanfic #glizz fest 2023 #my posts #my work

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avocado-writing · 2 years

Text

12.5k words

Rated: M

CW: Pregnancy (and panic about it); descriptions of violence; one brief implied threat of SA

Written from a prompt by white-wolf-buckaroo about Tangerine being a ‘one and done’ sort of guy, and falling in love with someone from his childhood.

@honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @sinfulrefugy @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty @piechans @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy @tangerinesgf @chaoticroaddreamerpasta

Seven

On days like this you swear you can hear the cheering coming from Upton Park when the bedroom window is open. You know you shouldn’t sit on the window ledge, especially when your flat is as many storeys up as it is. Your mum would go mental if she caught you. But sometimes it’s nice to pretend you’re in the stands with the rest of the crowd, watching the football in person instead of on the tiny television screen in the living room.

It’s the evening before Big School starts. It’s the first day in a long time your mum has managed to get off from both of her jobs. She wanted to spend it with you, but having two younger siblings means even with the best will in the world she’s still pulled in all directions. Between the screaming and shouting she finds a scant moment to come and chat.

“You alright, sweetpea?”

You’ve scrambled off of the windowsill and up into your top bunk the second you clocked her footsteps, pretending to be engrossed in one of your books. You peer at your mum over the top of it and nod.

“How are you feeling about school tomorrow?”

You’re cacking your pants, but at seven, don’t quite have the words to convey that. So you settle on: “worried.”

Your mum looks sympathetic, reaching up to take your little hand in hers.

“Ah, don’t be. You’ll be absolutely fine. You’re the smart one, after all.”

In hindsight you will realise this is a bit of an insult to your siblings but at the moment it’s the reassurance you need to hear. Even though you’re only seven you know the weight on your mum’s shoulders. When your dad died on the way to the hospital after your brother was born you thought she might fall apart. Instead, she drew your little family closer together than ever. Got a second job. Worked to make sure her three children wouldn’t want for anything. When you’re older you’ll realise your mum is the poster child for the phrase ‘overworked and underpaid’, but right now you’re young and selfish and slightly bitter she’s not around more often.

Your mum drops you off very early at Big School early the next day, on her way to her morning job. So early, in fact, you seem to be the first one there. You grip your book bag so tightly it feels like your knuckles might pop out from under your skin. You’ve never felt more starkly alone than in this huge, grey tarmac playground.

Wait, no. not entirely alone.

There are two boys standing in the corner. One of them has a Thomas the Tank Engine lunchbox, and the other is dividing something between the two of them. It’s bright orange against the drabness of the schoolyard.

A tangerine.

Unsure, you approach them. Lunchbox sees you first, giving you a quick sweep up and down. As if you might try any funny business.

“I like your lunchbox,” you decide on, eventually. Maybe you feel Thomas the Tank Engine is a bit, well, childish, but you’re not going to start with that, are you?

Upon hearing those words a smile bursts over his face, like a ray of sunshine on this gloomy day.

“You watch Thomas too?”

“Yeah.”

You do. Your younger siblings like it, so it’s usually playing on the telly. You have a video tape that’s been replayed so much it’s beginning to wear out, black dots dancing on the screen when you put it on.

“What do you want?”

Tangerine boy finally speaks up. He looks just as scrutinising as his companion did, but doesn’t seem to have been won over by your shared interest with Lunchbox.

You look him dead in the eye. He has very blue eyes. A nice colour, actually.

You shrug.

“To be friends, I s’pose.”

It’s wonderfully easy when you’re a child, because just like that, you are.

Well. You’re friends with Lunchbox, anyway. He seems more than happy to accept you and he quickly ends up with a nickname like Tangerine does.

“Lemon,” you decide. He looks confused.

“Why ‘Lemon’?”

“Because you’re a right lemon,” you say, cheekily, prompting him to give you a playful shove. But it sticks. Oranges and Lemons the bells of St Clement's might say, but you prefer a lemon with a tangerine.

Tangerine is a bit tougher to crack. He doesn’t seem to out-and-out dislike you, but he’s definitely got higher defences than his brother. Never seems entirely sure of your motivations. Like you’re secretly trying to trick him. You really wish you knew what you could do to make him be more friendly, but you’ve got absolutely no idea. Oh well. So long as Lemon is happy, he is too, and they dutifully make space for you at the schoolroom table.

It’s fine. For a bit. Then a couple of the Year Sixes decide they want to start irritating you.

You live in the same block of flats, so it’s not like you can avoid them. It doesn’t seem like you’ve actually done anything to annoy them outright, either; it’s merely the fact that you exist which makes you a target. It starts with laughing on the way home, then turns into name-calling, and then hair-pulling. You try to get away but they have far longer legs than you do. You begin to dread the home-time bell, because it means you’re going to be bloody tormented on the ten-minute walk back.

There’s three of them. Having four years on you means they have that much extra height and bulk. A single seven-year-old isn’t really much of a challenge for them.

It all comes to a head when you’re on your way home on a Friday. Your mum tomorrow, for once, has the evening off - she’s said you’re going to go to the chippy for dinner. The idea almost makes you skip your way back. Your stomach drops into your feet, though, when you hear the sound of your name being shouted by a voice you’ve come to associate with torment.

You try to ignore them, picking up the pace. They aren’t deterred. You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder tugging you back.

“Didn’t you hear us calling you?” one of them asks. The leader, the one who always starts the harassment. You try to avoid eye contact, but they grab you by the chin and force you to look up.

“I asked you a question, answer it.”

You can’t. His hand is pinching your mouth together too tight for you to speak. Hot tears begin to form in your eyes, and you feel like a fool for letting them.

And then there’s a blur of movement towards you. One of the Year Sixes is knocked off their feet and falls heavily to the ground, letting out a sharp cry of pain. The leader lets go of you and spins round, just in time to get a bag to the face.

It’s Tangerine.

You’ve never seen someone look so angry. His face is screwed up tight, eyebrows pinching together in fury. When the leader stumbles backwards, clutching a bloody nose, Tangerine looks at you quickly.

“You alright?”

You manage to nod, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply before one of the bigger kids punches him. You gasp, wanting to help, but finding yourself frozen to the spot - you’ve heard fights go on outside your flat, yeah, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen one up close.

Luckily reinforcements aren’t far behind. Lemon comes in like a bullet, jumping on the assailant’s back and choking him with an arm around his neck. The leader has gained his composure and aims a kick towards Tangerine. He takes it in the ribs, gritting his teeth, but grabs the leader’s leg and pulls him in - when he’s near enough he connects into his face with a headbutt.

The leader reels. Then he spits something bloody onto the pavement.

It’s his front teeth.

“You little psycho!” he gasps, desperately holding his bleeding mouth. He begins to stagger away before breaking into a full sprint. The other two Year Sixes exchange a glance and follow, not wanting to risk the same outcome.

Lemon and Tangerine stand tall, shoulders heaving with exhaustion. They turn back to you in a synchronised movement that almost makes you laugh.

“You alright?” Tangerine asks again, making sure he gets a full answer this time. Roughly you wipe your tears away on the sleeve of your jumper and nod.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Lemon says with a toothy grin, as if they’ve just lent you a colouring pencil rather than gotten into a fight. That does make you laugh, but it’s more out of relief than anything.

Then you properly notice the cut on Tangerine’s cheek.

“You’re bleeding!”

Tangerine reaches up and touches the wound. He seems surprised when his fingers come back covered in red.

“Oh.”

You chew your lip, then decide on a course of action.

“I can clean you up at mine. Come on.”

Tangerine seems hesitant, unsure about accepting such an offer. But Lemon elbows him conspiratorially.

“We can trust her. She’s a Thomas.”

Later, when you know them better, you’ll realise this is the highest honour Lemon could possibly bestow upon you. At the moment, though, you’re not sure what it means, but it seems enough to convince his brother.

The boys fall into step behind you, and you lead the way up the flights of stairs to your flat. The door often gets jammed and the council won’t come and fix it, so you have to do the trick your mum taught you of lifting and wiggling your key at the same time.

Eventually it swings open with a loud creak and you usher your friends inside.

“Is nobody home?” Lemon asks, nosing around. You shrug.

“Nah. Mum’s at work. I’m meant to go to gran’s after school but she probably won’t notice if I’m late.”

Gran lives a couple of streets over and does her best to look after you and your younger siblings, but her arthritis means it’s hard for her to move too much. Mostly she sits you in front of the telly and puts on Bruce’s Price is Right. It’s alright, though; it means you have some leniency with your own time.

You take them into the kitchen, get Tangerine to sit down on the one chair without a wonky leg. There’s a first aid box under the sink which you retrieve, frowning when you open it.

“Lemon, there’s some plasters in the cabinet in the bathroom. Can you get them for me please? First door on the left.”

“Sure!” Lemon says, rushing off in entirely the wrong direction. Oh well. The flat isn’t big, he’ll get there eventually.

Then it’s just you and Tangerine.

The sound of the plastic packaging around the sterile wipe is cacophonous in the quiet while you open it. He hisses when you start to clean the cut on his face.

“Ah! Shit!”

“Don’t swear,” you say with a tut. He grumbles to himself, but thankfully the silence is broken now.

“Thank you. For helping me,” you say. Tangerine shrugs.

“‘S’alright.”

“No. I mean it,” you say, serious. He catches your eye before looking away. Is that a blush on his cheeks?

“It’s fine. I’ll look after you, alright? You don’t need to worry about people like them.”

Part of you wants to be indignant, puff out your chest and say you don’t need looking after. But another part of you is quite touched. You’ve never had someone say something to you like that before.

“Thanks, Tangerine.”

He smiles at you, trying to regain his cool as his brother comes back into the room.

“Found them.”

“Thanks, Lem.” You take the pack of plasters and find an appropriate one, sticking it over Tangerine’s cheekbone to cover the graze.

The three of you really are inseparable after that.

Eight

“What are you doing for your birthday, then?”

Lemon makes you jump as he slams his backpack down on the desk, taking his usual place on your left. You shrug, fiddle with the tassel on your pencil case zip. You sort of hoped this wouldn’t come up, but in class when there’s a birthday the teacher has everyone sign a card for the student whose special day it is. And yours is tomorrow - Saturday.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?!” Lemon repeats so loudly that the whole class stops and stares at him for a moment. The teacher says his name warningly and Lemon bleats out a “sorry” before he turns back to you, quieter this time.

“But really, nothing?”

Tangerine has sat down on your right by now and he looks just as confused, his face scrunched up as if he’s just noticed a bad smell.

“Well mum’s at work. And gran can’t do much because of her arthritis.”

You say it simply, a matter of life. Swallow a lump in your throat and try to convince yourself that you’re definitely not sad about it.

Tangerine and Lemon shoot each other a look across the table, but Lemon drops it. You think maybe you’ve wiggled out of an uncomfortable conversation, though you’re a little disappointed they’ve not decided they’re going to make you any plans of their own.

That is until you hear your doorbell ring early the next morning.

“Can you get that for me, love?” your mum calls from the kitchen where she’s wrestling your little sister into a jumper. You hop down from the bedroom windowsill and do as you’re bid.

Your eyes go wide when you see Tangerine and Lemon standing there, bold as anything, huge grins on their faces.

“Happy birthday!” Lemon nearly shouts. You find yourself smiling now, too.

“What are you two doing here?” you ask.

“Well, it’s your birthday. You shouldn’t spend it at your gran’s house. That’s boring,” Tangerine explains with a shrug.

By now your mum has finished her child-wrangling, and you hear her approaching footsteps come to join you. You spin around, excitement filling your veins.

“Mum, can I spend my birthday with Tangerine and Lemon? My friends?”

She seems a little unsure for a moment, before a sudden bunch of flowers is flourished at her. Tangerine holds the small, plastic-wrapped bouquet in a tight fist.

“We brought these for you,” he says.

“So you’d say yes,” Lemon adds. His brother elbows him as if to say, don’t say that part out loud.

Your mum looks touched and takes the flowers, politely ignoring the ‘£4’ sticker they’ve neglected to remove.

“Oh, well. Thank you boys. Er, Lemon and Tangerine, was it?”

“Yes ma’am,” Tangerine says with a winning smile on his face. Works like a charm.

“Hmm. Where do you live?”

Tangerine rattles off an address which you recognise as only being a few streets away. You feel your heart race as your mum visibly relents to their request.

“Oh, alright then. But I’ll be home at eight and want you back by then, understood?”

You throw your arms around your mum’s waist in joy, giving her a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Lemon and Tangerine say in unison, and wait as you grab your bag and a cardigan. Your mum waves you goodbye as you practically run to the stairwell.

You’re overwhelmed with emotions. You’ve never had friends who’d bother to come and hang out with you before. You can’t quite articulate how you feel, so instead you decide on: “thanks.“

“Oh,” says Lemon with a grin, “we’ve not even gotten to the best bit yet.”

Your eyes go wide. There’s a best bit?

“We’re gonna take you to go and see the football,” says Tangerine.

Your heart threatens to give out in your chest. You audibly gasp at the idea.

“You’ve got tickets to see the football?!”

They exchange a look.

“We’re going to see the football, yeah.”

What it turns out they mean is you’re going to sneak in to the football.

“We can’t just walk into Upton Park! It’s like stealing,” you say, chewing your lip nervously.

“Yeah we can. It’s easy. We’ve done it loads of times,” says Lemon, not realising it’s the morals rather than the difficulty you have an issue with.

“It’s fine, promise,” Tangerine adds, then lowers his voice to add. “I said I’ll look after you, didn’t I?”

Well. Yeah, alright, he did.

So you trust them and walk towards the stadium.

It turns out, when you’re three kids, it’s really easy to walk into a football game. You just need to stick with a gaggle of adults and pretend you’re part of their group. Nobody checks for your tickets, questions why you’re there. You stay close to the boys and follow their movements, dodging between peoples’ legs and heading towards the stands.

As you go, you watch Tangerine swipe a West Ham scarf from where it rests on someone’s backpack. When you’re far enough away from them he turns and wraps it around your neck for you.

“There,” he grins, “you look like a proper Hammer now.”

It’s the first time he steals something for you. It is definitely not the last.

The place is massive, so large you take a sharp breath when you walk into the stadium proper for the first time. The crowd shouts and hollers around you, a thrumming energy going through the place and every single person there. You’ve never felt a part of something so big before. Blood thunders in your ears.

“Wow,” is all you can manage.

“Right?” Lemon agrees.

“Are we going to go and find some spare seats?” you ask, looking around. It seems pretty packed, but there are some empties all the way at the top.

“Pfft. ‘Course not,” Tangerine laughs, leading you down to the front of the stands. He stands at the railings where the stairwell leads out, right by the pitch, and right in everyone’s way. Not that anyone really seems to care - kickoff is about to happen.

You rush forward and clutch onto the rail bar as if your life depends on it. You scream and cheer along with the rest of the crowd as West Ham walk out onto the pitch. You wait with bated breath for kickoff, go absolutely wild when they score their first goal. Tangerine and Lemon raise their voices right along with you.

In the second half you settle a little bit more. You’re still enraptured by the match, but your boys have calmed down enough to turn and talk to each other.

“Ready?” Tangerine asks Lemon, and gets a firm nod in response. Before you can ask what they’re ready for he turns to you.

“Hold on.”

You don’t actually get a chance to, because suddenly you find yourself being hoisted into the air. Lemon and Tangerine have grabbed one of your legs each and lifted you up onto their shoulders. You let out an indignant squawk of panic and grab onto them desperately, digging your fingers into their shoulders as handholds.

“What are you doing - ?!”

“It’s alright.”

You turn down and look at Tangerine. He looks back at you, unblinking, before breaking into a smile.

“We’ve got you.”

And, you realise, they do. They hold you high in the air as you cup your hands around your mouth and scream your enthusiasm, as if one little eight-year-old can egg on the team all by themselves.

You get about ten minutes in before security notices you.

“Oi, where are your parents?”

“Oh shit,” Tangerine says, noticing the man in the high-vis vest making his way towards you, “leg it.”

They place you on the ground and start sprinting. Tangerine’s hand flails out behind him and grabs yours, tight, and together the three of you make a break for it.

You don’t get to see the whole match. But you still throw your arms around Lemon and Tangerine in a tight hug when you’re out of harm’s way, and it’s decidedly your best birthday ever.

Ten

“I don’t get what’s so special about it,” Tangerine sniffs, “it’s just a new year.”

“It’s not just a new year! It’s the millennium, T!”

Tangerine harrumphs. He doesn’t like being proven wrong, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t give in to you a lot. You’re sensible, anyway.

It’s December 29th, and you’re mucking around in one of the few parks this city seems to have left. Tangerine is trying to use a swing while standing on it and continuously threatens to fall off. That boy will be the death of you with the stress he causes, you swear.

“Apparently everyone thinks all the computers are gonna explode or something,” says Lemon with a grin. “That’d be wicked.”

“We’re having a big party in our flats,” you say, proudly. “People are making loads of food and we’re gonna share it out. I’m even staying up ‘til midnight to watch the new year come in.”

That is quite special. Your mum tries to be strict on bedtimes, but even she can concede that this is a once in a lifetime thing.

“Can we come?” Lemon asks.

“Huh?”

“To your party. Can we come?”

Suddenly your mind is brimming with possibilities. A whole evening - no, a whole night - with your best mates? That sounds spectacular.

“Yeah! I’m sure mum won’t mind!”

Your mum loves Lemon and Tangerine. They’re very polite and kind to her whenever they’re round your flat, always offering to help her with the washing up or to make tea. Luckily your mum doesn’t see the way they act when she’s not there - they’re constantly fighting with people at school and, as brothers, with each other. You’ve settled more arguments than you can shake a stick at, and dealt with their bloody noses and grazed knuckles.

“Will your dad be okay with it?”

Tangerine shrugs.

“Probably. Don’t think he really cares.”

The boys insist that their dad’s lack of involvement in their lives is a good thing because they can do what they want without repercussions, but you’re not so sure. You don’t press that issue.

You find your mum up to her elbows in flour in your little kitchen. She’s trying to make a cake, which is admirable, because your mum can’t bake to save her life.

“Mum, can Tangerine and Lemon stay over for the party?”

“What?” she seems not to have noticed that you’ve appeared. There’s even flour in her hair, and you have to smother a laugh. “Oh. Um, yes, sure. Can you grab me the eggs, love?”

You look over to where the Twins are hovering in the kitchen doorway and gosh them a thumbs up. And that’s how you find yourselves several hours later, hyped up on store-brand cola, pelting it around the flat block. Some of the older neighbours tut loudly at your recklessness but mostly the mood is jovial, people laughing and celebrating.

“What’s the time?” you shout over your shoulder to Lemon. He checks his watch, a Thomas the Tank Engine one of course, and holds his arm aloft.

“Five to twelve!”

You’re both exhausted from pushing your body to stay up, and so filled with sugar you’re in danger of taking off.

“Come on! If we can get to the roof in time, we can watch all the fireworks.”

You lead the charge up to the roof exit. You’re not really allowed in there, the large custodial sign warning access is prohibited, but you don’t really care and go barrelling through anyway - perhaps mistakenly, because it’s bloody cold out on the top of the building. You can feel your teeth beginning to chatter immediately, so you cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for warmth.

“Shit, it’s freezing,” Tangerine says.

“Language,” you reply. He huffs but doesn’t argue back.

The street is full of people below, but you don’t spend much time looking at them - you’re quite high up, and the height is dizzying. Instead you fix your eyes firmly on the sky above. The light pollution is far too heavy to allow you a glimpse at the stars but you don’t feel too hard done by, the darkness will be lit up soon enough.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the E-numbers, or maybe it’s the fact your best friends are here with you, but you’re feeling oddly sentimental.

The best time to ask a meaningful, if silly, question.

“What do you want to do when you’re older?”

It’s never something any of you have really discussed. You see the boys’ heads snap to you out of your peripheral vision.

“Train driver,” Lemon states, not missing a beat. You smother a laugh with your hand.

“That would suit you, Lemon.”

“What about you?”

You’ve considered this a lot recently. More than you ever have before. When you were little you wanted to be a ballet dancer, but at ten you’re far more realistic now. And you’ve realised, through all of the times you’ve fixed up the Twins, you’ve developed a bit of a love for taking care of people. Putting broken ones back together.

“I think I want to be a surgeon,” you confess. The boys look surprised at that, and for a moment you’re worried they’ll laugh. But then they nod.

“Yeah. You’d be good at that,” Tangerine says. You feel a smile cross your face.

“How about you, Tan?”

He shrugs. When he answers, it’s so quiet, you’re sure it’s not meant to actually be heard.

But you do.

“I dunno. Probably something where I can take care of you, like I said I would.”

Your eyes go wide. You’ve not thought about that day, back when you were seven since… well. Probably since you were seven. But the fact he hasn’t forgotten it is…

Above you, a firework goes off so loudly you almost jump off of the roof in surprise. Bright orange sparkles fizzle in the air and the smell of smoke descends upon the three of you. The light is reflected in Tangerine’s eyes when you turn to look at him.

“Wicked!” Lemon shouts, pumping his fist in the air. You laugh at his joy, swept up in it, and turn to watch the rest of the show.

You suddenly feel something clammy in your palm. When you look down, you notice it’s Tangerine’s hand. He resolutely doesn’t look at you, staring straight ahead. You can tell he’s nervous. Tangerine doesn’t get nervous.

Well. There’s a first time for everything.

You stand there, silently clasping hands as the fireworks go off around you.

“Happy new year,” you say to your friends. And it is a happy new year.

Fifteen

At eleven, you all go to secondary school. Swap out your childish polo shirts for a blazer and tie. You don’t like them. The tie makes you feel like you’re choking. They suit Lemon, though.

At twelve, you really learn the word ‘fuck’, and it becomes a wonderful addition to your vocabularies, especially Tangerine’s.

At thirteen you get your first cash-in-hand job doing a paper round for the local corner shop, which turns into restocking shelves as you get older. Gav, the owner, pays you far under what minimum wage would be, but you quite enjoy the work so don’t really mind. This is helped by the fact he doesn’t care if you take some snacks on the way out as you go.

At fourteen, you decide to settle on what GCSEs you’re taking. They’re mostly the science based ones, you’ll need them for your A-Levels. If you want to be a surgeon which you’re still set on.

At fifteen, you realise you have a crush on Tangerine.

This is terrible news.

You’re not sure at what point you stopped seeing him as a boy and started seeing him as a Boy, but at some point with his towering height and floppy hair he made the leap in your mind. You try to push it away and pretend it doesn’t exist, but the point is futile. Every time he bumps your arm as a joke or smiles at something you’ve said your heart threatens to jump out of your chest. When he teases you about that band you really like but he absolutely can’t stand you get hot and awkward. You’re down bad for him and it’s awful.

You’ve consumed enough media to know that falling in love with your best friend ends badly. For fuck’s sake, there’s a film called My Best Friend’s Wedding. You actually cried when you watched it for the first time. This is hopeless.

So, you ignore it. Hope you’ll grow out of it. It’s just a crush, after all.

But one day everything changes.

“See you later, Gav!” you should over your shoulder. Gav is reading The Sun and waves you goodbye without looking up. As always, Lemon and Tangerine are waiting outside for you with their bikes. They both grin as you emerge from your shift.

“How was work?” Lemon asks. You shrug.

“Boring. Same old, same old.”

Lemon looks hopeful.

“Did you get me a - ”

“Twix? Yeah, ‘course.”

Lemon pumps his fist a little in silent celebration as you pass him his favourite chocolate.

“Yes! Awh mate, I fucking love you.”

You know he says that to tease you. Lemon can read people like a pro, and your feelings towards his brother aren’t exactly subtle. You shoot him A Look before you turn to Tangerine.

“Double Decker.”

“Absolute fucking star,” Tangerine says. Your heart flutters at his smile.

The three of you begin to wander down the street as you dig out a KitKat from your pocket. Tangerine makes a disgusted noise.

“Fucksake, not again,” he groans. You glare at him.

“What?”

“You eat KitKats like a fucking psychopath, that’s what.”

“No I don’t!” you insist. This has long been a point of contention between the two of you, and you both like to be wind up merchants about it. You look him dead in the eye as you unwrap the chocolate.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You grin as you take a bite into the whole bar, not bothering to separate the fingers. Tangerine makes such a loud noise of disgust the mums on the other side of the street glare at him. This makes both you and Lemon erupt into hysterics. You shove Tangerine playfully and he shoves you back, and for a moment you think this is as good as life can get. Laugher, friends, youth.

Then Tangerine’s phone goes.

You watch as he fishes it out of his pocket and flips it open, reading the text he’s just received.

“Who’s that?” you ask, but in the pit of your stomach you already know the answer.

“Katie Q,” he replies, hammering the buttons as he replies. Your whole body feels like it’s plummeting.

Katie Q. Katie fucking Q. Overall you don’t like to pit yourself against other girls, measure up against each other, but you fucking hate Katie Q. She joined your school earlier in the academic year so clearly didn’t know the dynamic you, Lemon, and Tangerine had. That the Twins are your boys. So when she started cosying up to Tangerine it lit a fire of jealousy in you that you’d never felt before.

Always laughing at him. Twirling her fucking hair around her fucking finger like she’s being coy. Makes her look like a div. What’s worse is that Tangerine doesn’t discourage it; he just sits there and lets her do it.

You realise you’re glaring at Tangerine, but luckily he doesn’t seem to have noticed.

Lemon, however, has.

“You still seeing her on Saturday?” he asks, nonchalantly.

“Yeah.”

Oh.

You must have made a noise, because Tangerine looks up. You take a step back. Tears are welling in your eyes at the idea of it. Stupid, stupid. Tangerine looks confused.

“What-?”

“I’ve got to go,” you choke. You turn on your heel and start to leg it down the road. You hope it looks like a purposeful stride, but to be honest it’s probably more of a pathetic run. It’s hard to see where you’re going because your vision is blurry no matter how much you blink it away.

You’re vaguely aware that Tangerine is calling out your name. He must be running after you. You don’t really want to look at him, though, so you keep going blindly. Of course, the pavement has long been in need of upkeep, so it’s no real surprise when your foot catches an errant slab and you go falling arse over tit.

Your pride hurts more than the grazed knees, and what’s worse is it means Tangerine can catch up with you. You try and wipe your tears away on your sleeve as he kneels down in front of you.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, absolutely baffled, “Are you hurt?”

“No!” you snap. Through your watery eyes you can see the complete look of bemusement on his face. Damn it, boys are so oblivious.

As a teenage girl, what you want to do is hide your feelings and silently seethe. But as well as being the boy you have a crush on, Tangerine is also one of your oldest friends. So you want to be honest. When you speak the words come toppling out of your mouth like hot water from a tap.

“Why are you seeing Katie Q this weekend?! Do you like her?”

You want to know the answer. No, wait, you don’t. Oh Christ. This is awful. This is the worst thing anyone has ever been through, ever. Just moments ago you were so happy. Then fucking Katie fucking Q had to go and ruin it.

A range of emotions run over Tangerine’s face as he processes this.

“What?” he says, again, “No, my dad’s laying paying her to tutor me in maths, you know I’m fucking shit at it.”

“I’d tutor you in maths!” you nearly wail. Tangerine groans.

“I don’t want you to tutor me in maths! Because I don’t fucking like Katie Q, I fucking like you!”

His shoulders are heaving, his face flushed red. He can’t meet your gaze.

A heavy silence descends over the two of you as you absorb this information. Tangerine scratches the back of his neck, the universal sign of awkwardness.

“You like me? Like, like like me?”

“Fucksake,” grumbles Tangerine, heavily aware of how cringeworthy this is. “Yeah, I like like you.”

You’ve never seen him so red.

“I like like you too, Tan.”

Finally he looks up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You’re sitting on the pavement, knees bleeding. He’s crouched in front of you. Of course this would be how it goes.

“Doyouwanttogooutwithme?”

He says it all as one word and you almost miss the actual question itself. But after a beat, when you decipher it, your heart starts going a mile a minute.

“Yeah!”

Tangerine lights up. You’ve never seen him smile so wide.

“Really?” as if he can’t quite believe it. You grin and nod emphatically.

Finally he offers you his hand to help you get to your feet. When you do, he doesn’t drop it. You look down to where your hands are joined.

It’s like you’re ten all over again.

Carefully, you change your grip so you can slip your fingers in between his. He gives you a light squeeze.

When you turn to face him, he moves in to kiss you.

It’s… nice. Quick, unsure. But nice. And a bit wet because you’ve been crying. You’re grinning when he pulls back.

You hear footsteps, and notice Lemon is closing the gap. He makes a show of groaning when he’s got both of your attentions.

“Is this gonna be what my life is from now on?” he complains. You and Tangerine flip him the bird at the same time before you hide your face in your - boyfriend’s! - chest. It feels a bit silly. It feels right.

And when you walk to school the next day, holding hands, you feel invincible.

Seventeen

Your mum is not surprised in the slightest when you tell her Tangerine has asked you out. She just gives one of those all-knowing grins parents have which gets under your skin.

“About bloody time. You two have been in love for yonks.”

“Mum!” you squeal. You’ve just realised you like each other, the L-word hasn’t even crossed your mind.

Well. It has. A bit. But you’d never admit that to someone.

And time ticks by. You’re thick as thieves. You bicker but, well, you’re in a relationship. It happens sometimes. And you always make up afterwards.

You pass your GCSEs with flying colours. All As and A*s. Tangerine is so proud of you he lifts you up and runs around the school hall with you in his arms. You squeal and giggle and cover your face.

“That’s my girl!” he cheers, and you feel like flying.

Neither he nor Lemon decide to do their A-Levels. They say that they’re going into the family business. You’re not sure what that might be, they’ve never mentioned it before. But they seem pretty set on their decision so you decide not to push it further.

That summer might be the best of your life. You’re young and in love, after all. For Tangerine’s birthday you get him a small gold pendant on a chain when you catch on that he starts to like his jewellery. He never takes it off again, just so he always has a little piece of you next to his heart. It’s dreadfully romantic.

Start your A-Levels in Sixth Form, pick all of the ones you need to get into medical school. Biology, Chemistry, Maths, Physics. It’s a hard workload but you knew it would be, it’s a difficult career you want to get into. You’re worried Tangerine will become bored of you. That he’ll find your constant studying dull and go off in pursuit of some other girl with more free time on her hands.

But you were wrong to worry. Your Tangerine is loyal to a fault.

Just before your seventeenth birthday, he hands you a card. You look confused.

“My birthday isn’t until next week, Tan.”

“I know that, you doughnut. Open it!”

You stick your tongue out at him playfully as you slip your finger under the envelope’s seal and tear it open. Inside the card are two concert tickets. Standing ones. To that band that you’ve loved for ages and Tangerine hates.

A lot of emotions go through your head. Tangerine is looking at you expectantly.

“You didn’t nick these, did you?” you ask, with narrowed eyes. He does that a lot. Thieves little things he thinks you’ll like. And most of the time you do, but you wish the light fingers would stop.

“Oh, charming,” he sniffs, crossing his arms, “how would I nick concert tickets?”

“I reckon you’d find a way.“

He looks indignant for a second, then shrugs, as if to say: probably.

“Well, no, I bought them, actually. Look, my name’s on them.”

Sure enough, he’s right. At this confirmation you feel your face light up, and you launch yourself into his arms.

“Oh my god, Tan, you’re the best!” you squeal, peppering his face with kisses.

“Heh, yeah.”

Though you’re still left with a bit of a sour taste in your mouth. Where did he get the money to buy them? He seems to have a lot of it lately, to the point where he’s let you know that you could drop your job at the corner shop and focus on your studies, if you want. That he’d look after you like he always promised he would. Clearly, whatever business his family is in is a lucrative one. But you’ve met the Twins’ dad; a gruff bloke, distant. Never mentioned work.

Well, whatever. Your mum seems pleased you have a nice evening planned.

“I’m at work tonight and the others are at gran’s. You’ll drop my daughter home, Tangerine, and leave; won’t you?”

“Mum!” you squeak, covering your face with your hands, realising the implications. Tangerine just grins, unaffected by your mum’s teasing.

“I’d never dream of doing anything else, ma’am,” he replies. Your mum doesn’t buy that for a second but chooses not to press the issue.

The tube to the concert is packed. Lots of people going to do the same thing, clearly. You can see band t-shirts galore. The two of you stand, pressed together like sardines, and Tangerine can practically feel the excitement radiating off of you.

Well, it’s your first concert, you’re allowed.

Time is a blur, you make nervous idle chatter with your boyfriend, but things only really sink in when you’re in the stadium. It’s huge. You’ve never been in an arena like this before - well; Upton Park was an outlier - and you think you might be sick with anticipation.

Tangerine squeezes your hand, and you look up at him. He smiles gently.

“You alright?”

“Best I’ve ever been.”

You press a quick kiss to his mouth and he looks chuffed. Yeah, he’s done a good job with this. You are one pleased girlfriend.

This is a mood which lasts for the next two and a bit hours as you watch your favourite band perform and go a little bit mental at it. You scream, jump, cry. All the things that you’re meant to do. Tangerine endures it for you and holds your bag and your water. When you leave the venue your voice is hoarse, barely-there from all the cheering you’ve been doing.

“I sound like I’ve been smoking forty a day for years,” you laugh, listening to the low and scratchy growl as you speak. “Do you think I’m beautiful, Tan?”

It’s meant to be a joke, a silly comment to contrast with how you sound. But Tangerine stops and, because he’s holding your hand, you do too.

“Yeah,” he admits, “I do.”

You’re walking down an alleyway close to your home. A shortcut. You’re alone.

When he pulls you in for a kiss you gladly oblige.

You think it might just be the nicest kiss you’ve ever had, a proper one, when someone calls Tan’s name. His real name.

The two of you look up. A man is standing at the end of the alley, striding towards you quickly.

“There you are, you little cunt!” the man says, thunder on his face.

“Tan…?”

Tangerine steps in front of you, shielding you from the aggressor.

“Fuck off mate, my girl’s here,” he states. The man doesn’t stop coming.

“I’ve been looking for you all week. Shame I’ve got to do this in front of her, but that’s what happens when your little family fucking robs people.”

Your jaw hangs open. He what? No, that can’t be right. Can it?

But Tangerine doesn’t argue it. In fact he doesn’t even look surprised at the accusation.

“Last chance. Turn around and get the fuck away from us.”

He wants to sound hard, but you know him well enough to hear the hitch of fear in his voice.

“Sorry, kid. Gotta send a message to your dad. And don’t worry - I’ll take care of your bird when I’m done with you.”

He gives a grim smile which makes you sick to your stomach.

“Tan,” you whisper. Any joy you’ve been saving has actively evacuated your body. You’re so scared you can’t move.

The man gets something out of his coat. It glints in the streetlight from the adjacent road.

Oh god it’s a knife.

But when he swings for Tan, he’s ready. Tangerine pushes you out of the way and runs at the assailant shoulder first, a rugby-like tackle. You fall on your arse and can only watch.

It’s hard for you to remember exactly what happens. You didn’t know your boyfriend was capable of something like this. Such violence. You want to believe it’s in defence of you but… the man said he robbed them.

Through the tears, it’s the first night you see Tangerine kill someone.

Tangerine takes a few licks but he’s fast. The knife slices across his forearm and spins to the floor. He grabs it before the man can.

It goes into his stomach, over and over, Tangerine pinning him down until he goes still.

Silence descends upon the scene.

Tangerine looks up at you, trembling, blood over his hands.

You’re sick on the alleyway floor.

There are moments that make or break a relationship. You thought it might be, you know, during uni or something, when you were busy with studying. You never saw it being because your boyfriend had… had murdered someone.

He looks you in the eye.

He’s scared.

Tangerine doesn’t get scared.

Shakily, you get to your feet.

“We’ve got to go,” you manage, “before anyone sees. We’ve got to go.”

Tangerine nods. He staggers up, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“I’ll… I’ll tell dad. He can sort it.”

You swallow more bile down as you listen to Tangerine have a short conversation with his father. You pretend not to notice the tears in his eyes. But you do notice the blood dripping down his arm.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” you gasp. He looks down at his arm.

“Fuck.”

Okay. Okay.

Sensible head on, you tell yourself.

And that’s how you find yourself back home, Tangerine sitting shirtless at your kitchen table. It’s a reflection of ten years ago: he’s hurt and you’re patching him up again. But this time it’s slow and steady stitches you’re doing, something you’re not really qualified for yet,

but unbeknownst to you, that you will end up doing many times for Tangerine over the years.

He sits in silence. He’s cleaned up in the bathroom but his hands are still stained red. He says your name gently.

“Please look at me.”

You finish the row of stitches, and you do. He searches your face for any hint of how you’re feeling, what your future will be.

“You said you’d look after me,” you tell him, eventually. “I’m going to look after you, too.”

Some moments can make or break a relationship.

Sitting together, in the quiet of the kitchen and the gravity of the situation with your Tangerine, makes it.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Twenty

It’s strange how these things bring people closer together. Because you and Tangerine are as solid as anything. There is a quiet, but sincere understanding that the two of you don’t really discuss what he does for work, but he always comes to you when he’s hurt. Not too long after, Lemon does too. You start leaving your flat when you get a text from them at 1am, secretly meeting them in the alley behind the bins on nights where your mum is home and they can’t come through to your kitchen. It’s hardly the most ideal place to dress wounds but at least it’s private.

You have many a late night setting a broken nose or relocating an arm. You aren’t one hundred percent sure how to do it properly yet, but the medical textbooks you’ve bought preemptively go a long way. You’ll make sure your boys are alright. You study long into the evenings most days anyway, so it isn’t a huge chore. The only time you’re actively worried is when you’re sitting your final exams. Tangerine understands how important they are so promises not to go on any jobs. In fact, the Twins even come over with snacks when you’re on your study break.

This means your little sister hangs around your desk a lot.

“Is Lemon coming?”

Your little sister likes Lemon. Lemon does not like your little sister. He always texts you before the two of them turn up to make sure she’s not around.

“No. Now sod off, unless you want to help me with algebra.”

She does not want to help you. You are thankfully left alone.

And with support from your mum and your boys, somehow you manage to pass all your A-Levels with flying colours, even though you’ve had so many energy drinks over the past few weeks you feel like your heart has permanent palpitations.

The irony of the fact that you want to study medicine yet insist on chugging Red Bulls daily is not lost on you.

But, poor health decisions aside, you apply for your university choices.

And you get an offer from all of them.

By then you’re eighteen, and firmly old enough to drink. The Twins take you out to celebrate, and you get so smashed on Smirnoff Ices that Tangerine has to carry you half of the way home, and to add insult to injury you throw up in the doorway outside your flat’s front entrance.

Tangerine holds your hair back as you vomit, and you know without a doubt he is the man for you.

You accept the offer from the best university. You’re lucky that, being London based, it isn’t too far to commute to. You can easily get the tube, or Tangerine offers to drive.

It took Tangerine five tries to pass his driving test. Lemon got it in one, much to his brother’s annoyance. You don’t… love Tangerine’s driving, but needs must. You always keep your eyes firmly on the speedometer as he taxis you, and grip your seat just a little too tight. But he always offers so you can save on the train fare.

“Have a good day, babe,” he always says, giving you a long kiss goodbye, “go knock ‘em dead.”

“The idea is to do the opposite, Tan,” you laugh, both choosing to ignore that that is exactly what he does for a living.

And things… keep going. Life is good. You and Tangerine are happy and even start discussing the idea of moving in together. You get through your first year of university with lots of studying and hard work. Better get used to it now, because this is going to be the next significant portion of your life.

So when you miss your period, you assume it’s just the stress of medical school. Things get harder from the second year and you’re in the latter end of it. You feel like you’re constantly craned over a textbook learning about yet another way the human body can break, and between that and still having to patch up Lemon and Tangerine as they take on bigger jobs you just feel a little run down from being pulled in all directions.

When you start being sick in the mornings you get worried. And when you realise you’ve not menstruated in two months, a terrible realisation washes over you.

Time has never moved so slowly as you watch the pregnancy test develop on the side of the sink. You’re practically curled into a little ball as you sit on the closed seat of the toilet, knees pulled up into your chest.

You can’t be. You can’t. This will throw off your whole fucking life so much. How are you meant to study with a baby? And fucking medicine of all things?!

When you see the double positive line, hot tears spill down your cheeks.

You should tell Tangerine face-to-face. You should. He deserves that. You’ve been together for nigh-on five years, after all.

But you’re a coward.

I’m pregnant, the text you fire off reads.

He does not reply.

You wait a day. Two. Try to call him. He doesn’t respond. Try to call Lemon, nothing there either. The sickness in you doubles, both from the hormones and the fear of not knowing how Tangerine feels. You even go to his house a week later, but you’re unsurprised to find nobody opens the door.

You come to the conclusion you’ve become a victim of the phenomenon known as ‘ghosting’.

When you get back, your mum is watching Eastenders. She instantly spots how you’re just barely holding yourself together.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You burst into tears. You cry, and cry, and cry. Your mum holds you in a way she hasn’t done since you were little, rocking you back and forth on the sofa in her arms. She smooths your hair, hums to you, wipes your cheeks dry; doesn’t even bat an eyelid when you tell her you’re expecting. She does look a little confused when you tell her you’ve not heard from Tangerine.

“He’s not the kind of boy to just abandon you, darling. I’ve seen the way you are with each other. He’s probably just taking a little time to process.”

“Mum, what if he never comes back?”

“Well then, he’s a cunt, isn’t he?”

Hearing the word from your mother’s mouth for the first time makes you choke on the laughter that bubbles up through the sobs.

“Mum!”

“What? It’s true.”

For a moment you get lost in your giggles.

And then your phone rings.

The two of you go silent when you see Tangerine’s name appear on the screen. Your mum watches you as you answer.

“Tan?”

His voice is quiet when he replies. A bad sign.

“Can you come outside?”

Oh god. This is it. He’s going to break up with you, isn’t he? Your heart is firmly in your mouth as you descend the piss-reeking stairs of your apartment building, opening the front door to find Tangerine.

You gasp.

He’s got a black eye, a barely-wiped bloody nose, and you’re pretty sure there might be a fracture on his cheekbone. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

“Tan, what happ-”

Before you can finish, he passes you a couple of bits of paper stapled together. There’s blood placing his fingerprints where he’s been holding it.

It’s the deed to a flat.

“I…?”

“I bought us a house. Well. A flat,” he says, “I’m sorry, that’s why I was gone. I was doing a job to get the money together.”

You’re sick at the idea of what that job might be. You’re also sick from the adrenaline. You’re also sick from the baby. Oh god, you’re just sick.

“Tan…”

“Wait, wait, hang on.”

He pats his pockets, looking for something hidden there. And when he finds it?

He kneels.

Your breath is punched from your stomach as he opens up a ring box.

“I love you,” he states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Please, I just… please fucking marry me. It’s just you. Fuck, it’s only you. Always has been, only will be.”

And you’re crying again. Tangerine chews his lip.

“Is this good crying or bad crying?”

“Good crying. Yeah, Tan, of course I’ll marry you!”

His face lights up and he swoops you up in his arms. You laugh, giddy, and kiss him.

“Oh, shit!”

Your hands go to your abdomen, Tangerine recoils like you’ve shocked him.

“Sorry, sorry,” you state, “it’s, ah. It’s the baby.”

“Bollocks. Fuck. Right, the baby,” he repeats, amazed. Carefully he reaches out a hand and, when he sees you nod your compliance, rests it over your stomach.

“The baby.” He speaks with utter amazement, a quiet devotion.

You move in together the next day, a ring on your finger and a child in your belly.

Twenties

The two of you get married in a little courthouse a couple of months later. Tangerine wants to make you an “honest woman” before you give birth, which is hilarious, because as you watch him thieve a necklace for the big day you think he might be one of the least honest men you know.

Well, not when it comes to you, you suppose.

Only a few of your nearest and dearest are there. Lemon is Tan’s best man, your little sister wears a sweet dress as the bridesmaid. Lemon is very nice the whole day and puts up with her obvious infatuation with him, grinning and bearing it. Your mum wears a big hat because that’s what mums are meant to do at weddings. Even the Twins’ dad makes an appearance in an ill-fitting suit.

There’s a picture of you framed in your house of that day. You’re wearing a nice white dress, a small curve at your belly, and Tan is wearing a lovely suit. You're embracing and you’re both mid-laugh, absolutely captivated by each other. It’s one of your favourite photos.

When the paperwork is out of the way and you’re married, the little party hurries over to Upton Park in your wedding outfits just in time to catch the game you’ve got tickets for. Your white dress is stained sky blue and claret from the facepaint Tangerine puts on you, but you don’t really care, because it’s the best day of your life.

You don’t want a fancy honeymoon; besides, you’d rather the money go towards renovating your new home. So the two of you have a weekend away in Brighton where Tangerine’s pride won't let him leave the claw machines on the pier until he’s won you a cuddly toy. He spends a small fortune on getting you a teddy bear that’s falling apart at the seams and you treasure it.

The two of you settle into married life well. You can’t keep your hands off each other. You don’t know how you balance married life, pregnancy, and your studies - but Tangerine is nothing but devoted. Insists you spend all of your time doing uni work, because he’ll support you. You don’t love the idea of that because it means he still comes home with bruises and broken bones every now and then, but it’s still a subject neither of you broach.

Your waters break the day after your twenty-first birthday. Tangerine ferries you to the hospital and for once his reckless driving comes in handy.

“Tan! I want this fucking thing out of me!” you screech over the sound of his engine. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Tangerine actually scared of you, but he approaches it that day.

Labour is awful. You knew it would be from your studies, and from, well, common sense. But they let your mum come into the delivery room and she holds your hand as tight as anything, and after several painful hours your son comes squalling into the world. He is tiny and new and perfect, and you clutch him to your chest with tears in your eyes.

Tangerine enters the room a little while later, hanging back at the foot of your bed.

“Do you want to hold him?” you ask, quietly. Tangerine looks hesitant.

“What if… fuck, I dunno, what if I hurt him?”

Oh, bless. Your Tangerine is a sweet man. You’re exhausted in a way you’ve never been before, but you cradle your son with one arm and reach for your husband with the other.

“You could never hurt him.”

Gingerly Tangerine crosses over to you. You gently pass your son into his arms. It’s a funny picture: your Tan with all this jewellery and that moustache he’s growing out looking down at his newborn child as if he’s made of porcelain. You know he must be used to taking life by now. He’s never made one before.

Your little family returns home by the end of the week, and life continues.

And overwhelmingly, it is good. Your son is a happy boy with doting parents. Nobody can prepare you for what it’s like to raise a child, the heartaches and worry and pride and love; but the two of you experience it all in bucketfuls. Your favourite moments are when Tangerine holds your son and talks to him as they walk around the room, speaking to him as if he’s a full-grown adult when your son can only reply with a “ba” noise. Or perhaps, the times when you’re rocking him to sleep, and you spot Tangerine hovering in the doorway with a look of absolute dedication on his face.

Yes, life is good, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t complicated.

Medical school only gets harder, and Tangerine rises up the ranks of… well, whatever it is he exactly does. He has to go further afield, and for longer. You’re lucky your mum has dropped down to one job now, so she offers to look after your son when needed. Late nights continue with you either hunched over a book or waiting on Tangerine’s call to make sure he’s safe.

But when he’s home it’s lovely. Perfect husband, perfect father. Never gets tired of your son’s constant begging to be thrown in the air and caught time and time again, requests for the same book to be read, even the difficult mealtimes. Tangerine loves your son and your son loves him, and your little family is perfect.

Five years it takes for you to pass medical school. Your son is three by then. In your graduation photos you have your degree in one arm and him in the other, Tangerine’s hand on your waist. You think his own proud smile might be even bigger than yours.

“Come on doctor,” he says that night, pinning you against the wall when your son is asleep, “let’s have someone take care of you for a change.”

“I’m nowhere near being a doctor,” you laugh, but let him continue his ministrations anyway.

You find out the next day he has a job in Rome, and you almost burst into tears. But he peppers your face with kisses and promises he’ll be back. And he’s yet to break a promise to you. And when he returns, he has a shining black eye, two broken ribs, and enough money to put a deposit on a proper house five times over.

Buying a house in London is expensive. But he did say he’d look after you and you’ll be damned if he isn’t living up to it. You move to a place near the hospital where you’re going to be doing your foundation years, a small home but one with a garden and heart. Your son celebrates his fourth birthday there, smiling and laughing as your husband hoists him onto his shoulders, and has many more happy days after.

Still life continues.

At twenty-five, you’re getting through training at quite a pace. You live in a state of permanent exhaustion between having a young child and studying but Tangerine still acts like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He pulls you into his arms one morning as you’re making breakfast.

“Good morning,” you tell him. It always is, waking up next to him.

“Happy anniversary.”

You furrow your brow.

“Our anniversary isn’t for another three months, Tan.”

“Well, yeah, I know that, don’t I? But we’ve been together for ten years.”

Ten years. The spatula you’re using to scramble the eggs pauses in your hand. Gosh, that’s a long old time. You can’t quite believe it.

“I didn’t realise,” you confess. He drops a kiss into the crook of your neck.

“I did,” he replies, and you can practically hear the smug smile on his face, “and I figured we deserved a little break.”

He holds up two plane tickets to Milan in front of you, and you squeal so loudly it makes Tangerine jump.

Your son stays with uncle Lemon for the week. Your son loves Lemon, but that’s because he’s the sort of uncle who lets you get away with ice-cream for breakfast. He and Tangerine might be partners in crime in the business world, but your son and Lemon are partners in crime in a much more terrifying way. Chaos-causers.

“You be good for your uncle, alright?” you ask, ruffling your son’s hair. He grins with a wide, toothy smile.

“I will!” he promises, in a way that surely means, we will absolutely get up to mischief together.

Milan is, well, to be honest, you’d know better what Milan was if you left the bedroom much. He’s booked the penthouse of a very fancy hotel and you make good use of all its surfaces. When you do finally convince him to actually go out for a bit the place is lovely; sunny and warm and perfect. Tangerine walks with his arm around you. Possessive. You don’t mind.

“I’m sorry I’m away so much,” he says one night, when you walk out of the gigantic hotel bathroom.

“Hey, what’s brought this on?“

He shrugs.

“I just… I don’t fucking know. Wish I was there more for you two.”

Well, it would be a lie to say you didn’t wish that too, but it’s pointless to air that when you can tell he’s already being rough on himself. You sit next to him on the bed and take his face in your hands.

“So long as you come back to me. That’s all I care about.”

He covers your hand with his, kisses you, then you find a pleasant distraction for the rest of the evening.

By the time you get home your son resolutely doesn’t want to leave his uncle’s.

“We had McDonald’s five nights in a row!”

You shoot Lemon A Look. He shrugs.

“I can’t cook.”

Things continue happily, until one day Lemon and Tangerine return from a job with the former’s leg broken in three places. The two of them come in at eleven one night, battered and bruised, with Lemon desperately trying to keep his voice down despite the agony he’s in.

You have a spare room which the two of you have dubbed the “office”, but really, it’s more of an impromptu operating surgery. You’re lucky your husband has been able to source you some anaesthetic, because setting his brother’s leg back in place is a bloody and lengthy effort that you wouldn’t want him awake for.

Lemon wakes up in the guest room with his leg in plaster and head fuzzy. He tries to get up in panic, you soothe him.

“Lemon, Lemon, it’s me. You’ve got to stay still, alright? You got really hurt.”

Lemon narrows his eyes at you and glances down at his injury, letting out a groan of frustration when he sees his predicament. Tangerine shuffles awkwardly next to you.

“I was worried about you there, mate.”

“Your fault,” Lemon slurs, lips not quite back to full use. You fix Tangerine with a look.

“Was it your fault, Tangerine?”

Your husband shifts awkwardly.

“Well. Maybe I pulled a trigger too early, and - ”

“Oh for fuck’s–” you adjust your volume, making sure not to disturb your son, “for fuck’s sake, Tan. Right, Lemon, you’re staying here until you’re better. If you need anything your brother is going to get it for you, aren’t you, Tan?”

Tangerine huffs.

“Fine.”

So Lemon becomes a fixture in your house. Your son loves it, and the two of them are always playing on their Nintendo DSs, wrapped up in their own little world. It takes a long time for Lemon to heal but, by the end of it… well it just doesn’t make sense for him to leave again. Things are much easier with three adults in the house rather than two. So he moves in properly over the next couple of weeks.

You, your husband, your son, your brother-in-law. A little family. A happy one.

Thirties

Tangerine’s eyebrows raise as he watches you patch the hole in his jacket. Your stitches are neat and uniform, and quickly it’s impossible to tell there was ever a tear at all.

“When did you learn to sew?”

You fix him with an old-fashioned look.

“I’m a surgeon, T. I do this on your skin often enough, why wouldn’t I be able to do it on your suit?”

It’s true. You’ve got a couple of specialist training years left, but it’s pretty much official now. A general surgeon. It’s hard work, but it’s rewarding. Your favourite place to be, if not with your family, is in the theatre saving lives.

You toss Tangerine his suit jacket back and watch appreciatively as he tugs it on. Tangerine has really grown into suits over these past few years. You can’t picture him wearing anything else now. What a handsome man your husband has grown up to be. You don’t scrub up too badly yourself either, you like to think.

Tangerine pulls you into his arms, embraces you. Nuzzles his face into the softness of your neck and inhales.

“Where are you off to this time, love?”

“Tokyo. It’s gonna be a fucking nightmare of a job,” he sighs. You don’t press for any more information. The two of you have simply decided it’s better when you don’t know. Just deal with what comes back.

“Come back to us,” you whisper in his ear. His breath hitches at that. Funny, Tangerine doesn’t get too emotional. Last time you saw him even well up was at his dad’s funeral. You’re amazed it was heart disease that got the old bastard and not a gun. But Tan pulled himself together quickly, memorised him with a tattoo, and promised you he’d be a better dad to your son than his was to him and Lemon. He’s already passed that mark by miles.

You feel oddly emotional too. Probably the hormones, your period is a bit late so must be due any day.

Your son and Lemon are waiting at the door, tapping away on their phones. They’re playing some sort of game. Pokémon something, maybe? You don’t really understand it, but those two bond over the oddest things. Tangerine ruffles your son’s hair and he grins up at his dad.

“You’re gonna be good as gold while I’m away, aren’t you? You’re the man of the house for a bit,” he says. You and your son both roll your eyes.

“I will, dad.”

Tangerine pulls you in for a last kiss - your son makes a disgusted noise - and the two head out.

“You boys be safe!” you call. You whisper a prayer to whoever’s listening - even if I have to put them back together, let them come back.

A few days pass. Tangerine texts you when he touches down in Japan. A selfie of Lemon with some sort of big-eyes, slightly creepy doll. Updates about where they are.

Your period doesn’t come.

Hm.

You have an app on your phone to track your ovulation, and checking it, you’re quite out. This isn’t good. You can’t be hitting the fucking menopause early, you’re only thirty-fucking-two for fuck’s sake. So…

Oh god.

You’ve not pissed on a pregnancy test since uni. You’re on the pill. It’s meant to be fucking effective, damnit. At least your son is at school and you don’t have to deal with him asking questions. Better to do this in private.

In an action you’ve done before, the test sits on the side of the sink and develops.

A call pops up on your phone. You furrow your brow. Lemon rarely FaceTimes you. Could be Tangerine’s nicked his phone if his battery has run out, but that’s unusual too. You answer.

“Lemon?”

Your brother-in-law’s connection is shaky. But even though the picture is bad you can tell he’s covered in blood.

Your own runs cold.

“Lem-”

He interrupts you with a near shout of your name.

“Bleeding. I need you to tell me how to stop someone bleeding from their neck.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

You’re sick a bit in your mouth. You want to scream for Tangerine. Somehow you don’t think he can answer. Lemon wouldn’t call you for help for a random stranger.

Surgeon brain on.

“Pressure. As much pressure as you can.”

You speak slowly, clearly. Lemon drops the phone but you can see him dip into shot sometimes. It makes it worse. You want to see, you want to fucking see, but Lemon needs both his hands. You’re talking a man through fucking surgery and it’s to save your husband’s life.

“Where’s he been shot?”

“Neck. His neck.”

Fuck. Christ. That makes things a lot worse. And you know he wouldn’t be calling you if he could get an ambulance.

“Plug the hole, quickly.”

“With what?!”

You look around your bathroom, as if that can help. A packet of tampons is tucked into your sink cabinet. That would be ideal, but you don’t suppose he’d have any on him.

“Anything absorbent!”

You hear Lemon scrambling around.

“Will, like, a piece of plush doll thing work?”

“If that’s what you’ve got to hand!”

You hear tearing. This would be absurd if your husband wasn’t fucking dying.

So, half the world away, you do your best to talk Lemon through the steps. Tears run down your face as you speak. They dip into your mouth, hot and salty. You gag at the taste. You want to vomit. Properly.

“Lemon? Lemon are you there?”

“He’s… he’s…”

You wail. On the sink, your test shows positive.

You wake to the sound of the television on downstairs. Of course. Sunday mornings aren’t for peace for working mums. At least you’re not on call today, so small mercies.

You yawn, stretch, head downstairs. Almost trip over a doll. You swear to yourself under your breath and kick it out of your way.

Thomas the Tank engine is on the telly, naturally. Lemon sits with a cup of tea in his lap and one of your twin girls either side of him, all three engrossed in the cartoon. They look up in unison when you walk in.

“Morning,” they all chirp. You smile.

“Morning,” you reply, “you girls seen your brother?”

“He’s not up yet,” Lemon replies on their behalf. Of course. Your son has taken to being a teenager like a fish to water. And that includes the lie-ins. Still, it’s the weekend, so you’ll let him sleep. “You want a cuppa?”

“I’ll make it. Looks like you’ve been co-opted for the morning.”

You head to the kitchen, re-boil the kettle, and stare out of the window. You need to get on the gardening. It’s a fucking state out there. Maybe finally get around to buying that swingset the girls have been begging for, you’ve got the room after all.

A pair of arms wrap around you and you’re pulled against a warm chest.

“Happy anniversary,” a voice growls in your ear.

“It’s not our -”

Oh. Of course. You’ve had this conversation before, years ago. You turn in your husband’s arms. Tangerine smiles down at you. The collar on his dressing gown mostly hides that terrible scar he brought back with him from Japan.

It had been a long road to recovery.

But you said you’d look after him.

“Twenty years,” Tangerine states, “and still as gorgeous as ever.”

You press a kiss to his mouth, one that’s probably a little too saucy when someone might walk into the kitchen at any moment.

“How shall we celebrate?”

“Oh, I have a couple of ideas.”

You laugh, and your Tangerine kisses you again.

A/N: I KNOW IN CANON HE HAS THE PENDANT FROM CHILDHOOD BUT THAT’S NOT THE BIGGEST CANON EVENT WE IGNORED LMFAOOo

#Tangerine x reader #Tangerine x you #Tangerine x y/n #Tangerine bullet train #Tangerine fan fiction #aaron taylor johnson fanfic #dividers by firefly-graphics #all my images are from unsplash

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beerecordings · 2 months

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The Other Monster - Part 2

Previous Chapter l Next Chapter

Marvin is handed over to his captor. JJ helps with an errand. Anti doesn't want to talk about things. He wouldn't know how to if he tried. Unfortunately, his little brother has questions.

Warnings for ongoing themes of human trafficking and sexual abuse (not on-screen), as well as imprisonment and dissociation.

The walls of this prison, Marvin finds, are different from the last one.

“Shall I bring you something to eat?” asks the girl who escorted him here, raking her eyes down him just once before looking him in the eye.

He blinks. “What?”

“Shall I bring you something to eat?” she repeats.

He glances around him, the fire flickering over his face. The warmth is an old friend, one he thought he lost the memory of. The room is stone, but clean, with tapestries and a wide rug pinned beneath the bed. His bare feet dig into it.

“Where are we?” he asks her. She turns away from him slightly, frowning. “The keep.”

“Whose keep?”

“Your new lord's.”

He stares at her blankly. She puts her hand on the door.

“I'll bring you some dinner.”

Marvin sits down heavily on the bed. It's soft against his palm, which opens over its surface as though not quite sure what it is sensing.

He wasn't there for his own purchasing. One day, he was sitting on his cold bench in his cell room, half-naked and hungry, and then, perhaps an eternity later, he was... here.

How far from home, he does not know.

The serving girl brings him a tray filled with so much good food it makes his head swim for a second. She waits by the door for a long while, but he doesn't touch it until she's gone. If she's gone, after all, she can't take it away from him. Soft brown rolls with butter – the leg and wing of a chicken falling tenderly from its bones – potatoes and carrots –

He's going to make himself sick. He shoves the tray away for a moment, remembering to breathe, chewing carefully through the mass in his mouth. The grease on his fingers is a fine dessert until he hears the door open again.

After that day, he never forgets the eyes that look at him again.

“Darling,” says the man, closing the door behind him. Marvin would flinch at the noise if he wasn't paralyzed against the headboard, holding his knees to his chest. “I'm so glad you're here.”

I don't know you, Marvin thinks, but he doesn't say it. Don't call me darling.

Maybe he expected some ugly old man, and to be sure he's seen buyers like it coming through to look at him and the other Monsters. But this is a young man, only older than him by perhaps ten years, and not unattractive. He smiles at Marvin broadly.

It's more unnerving than any snarling old slave-driver who could have come towards him.

"You are so very beautiful," says the man. "Prettier still than when I first saw you."

Marvin's gut turns over. When did he see him? When he was sleeping in his cell? Did he come through and stare at him?

"But so pale," he adds. "Did they treat you badly?"

He comes to sit beside him on the bed. Marvin feels so stiff he doesn't think he could even move his eyes if he tried - until the man touches his face.

Marvin lunges with his teeth and his captor yanks his hand back, laughing aloud. "Oh, they told me you weren't quite broken in!"

Marvin's had enough of this. He shoves himself off the bed and rushes at the door, but the man has him around the waist a second later, lifting him fully off the ground. Marvin howls and strikes at him, trying to flail loose, but he's thrown onto a plush fur behind the bed, and the man stands between him and escape.

"We'll have fun together, you and I," he says, his voice louder now, booming, and Marvin shoves himself into the corner, panting. "Don't you worry about that. I'll try you right, my Monster, but you be careful of yourself. You never know who else around this castle might want a bite of you in return."

"Leave me alone," Marvin screams at him. "Try and touch me and I'll cut your fucking dick off!"

Another huge laugh, overwhelming, like it's grating against something inside him. "That's alright, lovely, there won't be any touching tonight. You're just here to get comfortable. You'll have everything you need, Fabian. You'll get used to this, soon, and then won't we enjoy each other?"

"Go fuck yourself," Marvin snarls.

"Get some rest. I'll leave you be. You'll find out soon, my Monster... there are a lot worse men than me in the world."

He expects him to be grateful. Marvin feels like he's been punched.

The man leaves and the door closes behind him. Locks behind him.

His stomach starts to ache, and he pulls up his shirt to find his skin yellowing in the place where the man got his arm around him and threw him into the corner, like a little dog trying to get out of its kennel.

He stares around him. The walls are all stone, and he's cold again despite the fire.

Marvin buries his face in his knees and promises himself he won't cry.

"Please come get me, Jackie," he whispers. "Please find me. I'm running out of time."

Jameson had thought that when Anti said 'girl,' he meant they would go get someone his age.

He still remembers how Anti saved him, when he was just little. Anti slipped into his closet and waited for Jameson to be tucked in and left alone before he opened the door. Jameson knows, now, that he should have been scared, but he doesn't think he was. He doesn't remember exactly what Anti said, but he knows he saw the bruising on Jameson's body, and he knows he picked him up tenderly and took him home. No one has hit him since.

And nobody ever will again, Anti tells him sometimes.

But the girl that runs towards him as he waits by a farrier's stable must be at least seventeen, probably even older. His face gets a little hot. The only times he sees teenage girls are when they ride through the meadow near the keep. Some of them even wave at him.

This one seems a little more distracted.

She's panting by the time she gets over to him, and she only sees him when he's a meter away, looking at him in surprise. “When he said a boy was waiting for me, I didn't think he meant an actual child.”

Well, touche.

Any further conversation (or the lack thereof) is cut off by a strangled scream from the house down the hill. The girl whips around in alarm, but JJ just peers over the window, waiting for Anti to appear. It's true, he doesn't like to see him kill, but now that he's here, it feels even worse to know that his brother's in trouble without him.

“Will he actually kill all of them?” asks the girl.

Jameson glances back over his shoulder and gives her a thumbs up.

“Well, then,” she says. She looks faintly ill, but her voice doesn't waver. “They deserve it. Done worse things to others than they did to me.”

Jameson doesn't think it would be polite for him to speculate. She looks thinned out, though, something hollow in her face. He reaches out to fetch her a packed honey cake from inside White Horse's bag and hands it to her.

“Wow, thanks, darling.”

His face flames. He's not sure he's ever had a real girl call him darling. His nanny didn't count.

“Hey, I'm here. We're going. Now.”

The girl sticks the cake in her mouth as Anti pushes into the darkened stables, grabbing White Bird's reigns. Jameson swallows and wonders if he should get him a honey cake too.

It's not the first time he's seen his brother like this: covered in blood and shuddering in rage. It always scares him, though. He doesn't move from his place by the window, looking at Anti with big eyes. At his side, he thinks the older girl is doing the same.

"They're gone," says Anti, rough through his mask and rough with his hatred. "Get up."

Jameson gets up and the girl comes with him.

"You have anyone to go home to?" Anti asks.

"I'll give you one guess."

Anti laughs darkly. "Come on. There's a convent up the street."

"Yeah, I'll fit right in with the nuns."

"They'll feed you and give you somewhere safe to sleep."

She crosses her arms over her chest. Jamie wonders if she's cold without a cloak. "Look, I have someone out in Serenis, but we've never been able to afford the fare. That's how I... ended up here."

Anti stares at her for a long moment. Jameson can almost feel him thinking.

"Someone who won't hurt you?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, perhaps a little too quickly. But she says it, and Anti nods slowly.

"Okay," he says. "Fine."

He reaches into White Bird's bag and pulls out a cloth bag heavy with coin. When he turns it over to her and she looks inside, JJ hears her suck in a tiny breath of astonishment. Her gaze turns up to Anti, steely.

"And in exchange?"

"Just get out of here. I assume you can get around with that much money without being robbed. Or do you need a babysitter?"

"I can handle it just fine," she says, tenderly tucking up the bundle as Jameson stands on his toes to try and look inside.

"Use it however you want, I don't care," says Anti. "But don't be looking for favors from men like that if you can help it. I mean, your body, fine, but..."

He gestures back to the house. "It always ends up like that, doesn't it?"

"As if you'd know," she says lowly.

In a flash, Anti has her shoved back against the wall, and Jameson lets out half a croak, as much of a vocalization as he can make, grabbing Anti's shirt to try and pull him back. Anti's bloodied face is inches from hers, his eyes cutting through the black fabric that hides the rest of him, and she gasps and closes her eyes, pinned against the side of the stable.

"Maybe I would," Anti hisses.

He slides a knife from his sleeve and Jameson reaches up to grab his hand - but Anti just turns the handle towards the girl, an offering. He pulls away and she rubs her throat. Jameson swallows back the burn of tears, hiding against Anti's side.

"Get out of here," says Anti. "You know your options."

"Anti, wait," Jameson protests, tugging his attention back to him. "If she needs somewhere to stay, she can come to the servant's quarters for a night. You can have someone you trust sail her home!"

Anti scowls and signs to him in return. "You want her to know where we live?"

"Why not? She wouldn't hurt us!"

"You don't know that. You don't know what she might find out. Who she might tell. And anyone I know to take her by boat is less trustworthy than whatever captain she might pay to take her."

"We should take care of her, she's all alone."

But Anti's shaking his head, offering the knife out again. "Get out of here," he repeats.

She doesn't question him. Takes the knife and the bundles and puts them in that worn leather bag. Jameson wonders if she has anything inside. It looks so light. What was precious to her inside that house? She looks down at him and clucks his chin in a way that makes him think of his mom, for a moment. "Bye," she says to him, and she takes off down the road.

"Get up here," says Anti, gesturing at White Bird, before Jameson can get out any questions. His brother reaches down to hoist him up onto the horse.

"Anti?" he signs.

Anti shakes his head and puts his arms around him, taking White Bird's reigns. "Hold on tight. We'll talk at home. We've lingered too long already."

He takes off in a rush, and White Bird seems all too happy to comply, storming into the quiet streets. They're out into the countryside again in a flash, heading back towards the keep, several minutes from the city. Jameson glances up at Anti, looking at the blood on his mask and the flint in his eyes, but Anti doesn't look down at him. He isn't doing his looking-at-nothing thing. Instead he seems to be looking out keenly at every blade of grass and leaf on the air around them. Jameson puts his fingers in White Bird's mane, and Anti wraps an arm firmly around his stomach. He wonders if his brother felt his need for security. Sometimes, Jameson thinks he senses what Anti needs. Maybe that's something people can do when they love each other.

He just wonders if Anti loves anybody but him. When he was a little boy, he liked being the center of all Anti's attention. He even liked that no one else seemed to like Anti either, and how it made him feel special, wanted, needed. But now that he's older, it sits in his stomach in a heavy sort of way.

"You're even mean to people we're rescuing," signs Jameson, as Anti reaches up to pull him down from White Bird, back in their own stables.

"You're right."

Unapologetic. Not that Anti ever apologizes for anything.

"Well, I'm saying you're not supposed to be," Jamie insists, following Anti around White Bird as he starts to take off her tack. "Who was she? Why did we go get her?"

"It was adult stuff," Anti says flatly. "Don't worry about it."

"You brought me along, though, so I get to worry," he insists. Anti just hums. "How do you even make money like that? You don't do so many assassin jobs anymore."

"My merchandise."

"Which is what?"

"A kind of medicine."

"So it's expensive medicine?"

"Sure, your highness. It's expensive medicine."

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm five anymore."

"I'm talking to you like you're ten."

He doesn't like it when Anti's irritable, but this flat dismissal is almost worse. Jameson scowls and steps firmly in front of him as Anti goes to hang up Bird's saddle.

"Why couldn't she have come and stayed here a couple nights?"

"No one needs to come here," Anti all but spits. "You know why we have to hide."

"That's just it, though, Anti, I don't!" Jameson signs sharply. Anti snarls.

"If somebody found out about me, you know they would - "

"They would what?"

Anti sets down the saddle and stares at him in astonishment. He's certainly cut through his apathy.

"You've always told me how dangerous everybody else is," Jameson says. "But why? Why even a girl with every reason to be grateful to us? She needed help, not money. Won't she be unsafe all over again? Why was she even being held prisoner? Why do we have to shut everybody else out? What would they do to you if they knew you were a Monster?"

It feels like a relief, letting all the questions go at once, dropping them like rocks into the river. He's thought about the girl all night, but he's been wondering about Anti far longer. When he was a kid, the vague understanding that someone would hurt Anti or take him prisoner was all he needed to know. But why? And why will Anti never explain it?

Long seconds have passed and Anti's still just looking at him. Jameson shifts in place, some of the triumph giving way to uncertainty.

"Anti?" he signs. "What would they do?"

His brother straightens up, looking out at the door behind them instead. He doesn't speak.

"Anti." Jameson reaches out to touch his hand, and Anti yanks it back. Jameson pulls it to his chest, blinking.

Anti settles his hand against White Bird, and Jameson hears him draw in one deep breath, two, three.

“You don't know anything about anything,” Anti whispers – hisses – voice cutting like a blade. “You don't know anything about anything.”

Jameson swallows. “You won't tell my anything.”

Anti gets a knife out of his belt and throws it at the wall, embedding it down to the hilt. Jameson sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flinching closed for a second, and Anti clutches his hand into a fist, staring at the wall. He grips at White Bird's mane and seems to struggle to breathe.

"Go up to bed," he says finally.

Jameson squeezes at his shirt for a second, heart fluttering nervously.

"I said go up to bed."

"Come with me."

"I have to take care of White Bird."

His voice is so raw. Flayed.

"I want to stay with you."

"Go up to bed."

"I didn't mean to make you mad, Anti. I'm really sorry."

And Anti does it again. He looks at him and then right through him. At something else. He's faraway.

"Go up to bed," he says one more time.

"Okay," signs Jameson, but he doesn't. He doesn't move at all. Anti turns away from him and finishes untacking White Bird, fills up her trough and brushes her neck for a few minutes, moving like a tree learning to walk. Then he just stands beside her, his hand on her throat, breathing.

"They would..." He starts, but he never finishes. "They would all..."

Jameson tries to touch his hand again. His fingers are limp.

"Anti?" he signs.

Anti doesn't move.

"We can go up to bed now."

"I'm not trying to scare you," says Anti suddenly, voice disjointed. "I'm not..."

"I'm not scared," Jameson lies. Slowly, he moves forward to wrap himself around Anti's waist. When his brother doesn't react, he presses his face into his stomach, holding himself there and refusing to cry.

Anti's hands lower and touch his shoulders. After a moment, he leans down to squeeze him against his body.

"Sorry," Jameson signs against his back.

Anti lets out a shaky breath. "I'm not mad. I'm... I'm just..."

Jameson tries to grasp at that feeling, because he thinks he can sense it, a little. Something wispy and sorrowful. Red and hurting. He can get a taste of it on his tongue, sort of. It makes his eyes burn.

Anti leans down to pick him up. Lately he's been finding it embarrassing that he's still small enough for Anti to carry him, but right now, it's all he wants.

"I'm sorry if I brought you along to something too scary," Anti murmurs. His voice is more steady as he picks him off the ground. "Let's go home."

Anti carries him up to the keep. Jameson rubs his back and clings closely to his neck.

He just wishes he had learned enough to stop him from wanting to ask again. But maybe he just has to accept this. He'll never figure it out, and Anti will always be... not mad, just... scared?

He hugs his brother tighter, and Anti pets his hair.

#graceling au #bee writes

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blackhakumen · 5 months

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Mini Fanfic #1151: The Battle Against the Irresistibles (Kingdom Hearts x SSBU)

1:34 p.m. at the Land of the Departure's Outdoor Training Field........

Isa: (Starts Panting From his Sparring Match with Terra) Okay.....I think..... Now....(Unsummons his Claymore Blade he Was Holding Before Wiping the Sweat Off His Forehead) Would be a perfect time for us to take a break for the time being.

Terra: (Panting as Well) Yeah......(Unsummons his Keyblade Before Placing his Hands on Both his Knees) Sounds good.....for me.....(Wipes the Sweat Off of his Own Forehead) ('Whew') We really went all-out thar time, didn't we?

Isa: (Simply Nodded in Agreement) Indeed we have. (Walks Over to Terra, Handing him a Bottle of Water) And once again, you've proven yourself to be a worthy sparring partner.

Terra: (Smiles Softly at Isa as Accepts the Offer While Getting Himself Up On his Knees) Thanks. I think you might be my second partner to spar with thus far.

Isa: Who's the first?

Terra: Aqua. We sparred a lot in our younger years. ('Sighs in a Nostalgic Like Manner') She always knew how to keep me on my toes. Do you have a first sparring partner of your own, Isa, or is it just me?

Isa: No, I have a first. It was Lea. Before we got ourselves wrapped up in the Organization XIII fiasco, we used to fight among ourselves to see which one of us is truly qualified for the leading royal guard. ('Sighs Heavily') And speaking of Lea......

Terra: Oh no. What did he do this time?

Isa: Being a pain in the entire body system as pee usual. This is the third week of November and he STILL hasn't shutten up about tricking us in that dumb challenge.

Terra: ('Sigh') Well, I hate to be the one to say this,but they did got us good that time. (Starts Blushing a Bit at the Thought of Aqua) Real good.....

Isa: Yes and it's been aggravating me to no end. He'll never let me live it down at this rate. (Takes a Sip of his Own Water Bottle)

Terra: (Grabs his Chin While Thinking) Hmm.....Ypu know, if you're up for it, we COULD try and get back at them.

Isa: (Raises an Eyebrow in a Bit of Confusion) Get back at them?

Terra: Yeah, like using our own charms to make them crack and whatnot. (Shrugs) They did it to us first, so it's only fair that we do the same to them in return.

Isa: Yes, you're right. It is fair. (Forms a Bit of an Evil Smirk on his Face) And I know exactly what to do first......

Meanwhile at the Smash Town's Workout Gym

Lea: (Sits Himself Down on the Lower Part of the Beleachers While Panting) Okay.....Can we.....Time out for sec?.....I'm hella exhausted right now.....('Whew')

Tifa: (Giggles Softly) We can tell!~

Samus: (Forms a Teasing Smirk on her Face) We're getting too much for you to handle there, Fire Boi?~

Lea: Nah. You guys are fine. Just need to step up my game little more next time is all.

Samus: (Happily Shrugs) Hey, if you want our input, we think you're doing good so far.

Tifa: (Happily Nodded in Agreement) Yeah. Your Keyblade skills are off the charts today.

Lea: (Smiles Back at the Duo) Thanks! 'Still getting a hang of this Keyblading business on my end, but I honestly wouldn't have made it this far it wasn't for my awesome- (Notices Something Off About Aqua Once He Turns to See Her Sitting Next to Him) Teach?

Aqua: (Blushing In Bright, Crimson Red, Speechless and Staring at Her Phone Eyes Widened)

Lea: (Scooches Over to his Keyblade Teacher) Whatcha watching over- (Eyes Starts to Widened at the Screen as Well) thereeee?

Samus and Tifa rushes over to sir behind Lea and Aqua on the bleachers. It didn't take long for their eyes to start widening up as well at the sight of Terra and Isa doing various seductive activities with their shirts already taken off (Pouring water down on top of their heads before shaking it off them entirely in slow motion, flexing their pecs and muscles, waving their drenched hair back while putting on a very attractive smile on their faces, and etc.) on screen while Freek'N You by Jodeci plays in the background. It even shows Terra singing the actual song itself while Isa playing the keyboard wearing sunglasses.

Terra: (On Screen) I don't give a damn about nothing else~ Freek'N You is ALLLLLLLL IIII NEEED!~

Lea: ..........What In the fresh hell is all of this!? The flexing, the slow motion......I didn't know Terra could freaking sing!

Tifa: I know, he sounds so lovely.

Aqua: (Still Blushing Up a Storm) S-S-So.....L-L-Lovely......

Samus: One of the biggest hunches I've made so far, I think they miiiiight be getting back at you guys for making them fail The Triple N Challenge awhile back.

Lea: ('Scoffs') Please. They can't be THAT petty. It happened two years ago! They should've gotten over it by now.

Tifa: Are you sure that's really the case? Cause you do know you're wearing a "I Made My Boyfriend Lose N.N.N. Challenge" shirt, right?

Lea looks down at the black shirt he's wearing with those very exact words imprinted in white.

Lea: (Looks Back Up at his Ladies Pals) It was the last clean shirt I was able to find in the drawer.

Samus: (Raises an Eyebrow) Really?

Lea: Yes, really! I was on the clock. Didn't had time to wash and dry the rest of my clothes beforehand.

Samus: Yeah, well, regardless, you might wanna try being more cautious just in case.

Tifa: If they're this irresistible on the eyes, there's no telling what they in store for you two next.

Lea: (Forms a Suspicious Look on his Face) Mmmmhmmm.

Later on, Outside of the Land of Departure.....

Lea: Will you relax already, teach? We both seen those two naked at one point in our lives. Ypu should get used to it by now!

Aqua: Yeah, but....(Starts Twiddling her Fingers Bashfully) Terra and I had been friends since we were both children, so it....takes a bit of tome for me to get used to his charms completely. Even whej his.....(Starts Blushing) vocal range are as....lovely and remarkable as his nice.....dectable......Bod-(Immediately Comes Back to Reality by Lea's Finger Snapping)

Lea: Hey. Hey. You're starting to day dream again, Aqua, stay with me now.

Aqua: (Clears her Throat Before Calming Down) Right, right. Sorry. That video surprised me in a way I couldn't even describe in detail.......

Lea: ('Sigh') Yeah, that was a guard breaker I must admit. (Opens the Door Before Walking Inside) But even then, I doubt those two will go that as to- (Eyes Widened in Disbelief at What is in Front of Him and a Now Blushing Aqua) Are you fucking kidding me right now!?

Isa: (Greets Lea amd Aqu While Wearing Nothing But a While Towel Wrapped Around Their Torsos) Ah, Lea, Aqua. Welcome back, you two. Hope you had a good workout today.

Terra: (Smiles Softly) Don't mind us. (Points at the Steam Behind him and Isa) We just came out of the showers today from ours and couldn't help but noticed relaxed the both of us are feeling right now.

Isa: So, after spending hours of training and building up our strength and character, Terra and I thought it would be a perfect idea for the four of us to celebrate for each of our hardworking efforts.

Terra: And what better way to celebrate the occasion........

Isa: .......Then to spend a nice, relaxing, ravish time together.....

Isa/Terra: (Forms a Seductive Smirk on Both Their Faces) In bed~

Lea: .......Sharing a bed together....Just the four of us........

Isa: That's what we're implying, yes.

Terra: (Happily Shrugs) Could've be fun.

Lea: (Squints his Eyes a Bit) Yeah, fun. (Angrily Points at the One Quarter Naked Duo) For you two hot meatheads to proclaim your dumb victory!!

Terra: (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) Victory?

Isa: (Puts on a Deadpinned Look on his Face) You really think we be that immature?

Lea: Well!.....No....Not really. But I know exactly what you two are planning. And while I admit that video of yours was surprisingly impressive on your parts, that your "celebration" idea alone won't be enough to break the two of down that easily! (Crosses his Arms) Am I right, Aqua?........(Notices a Lack of Sound Next to Him as He Turns to see Aqua is Not Present) A-Aqua?

Aqua: (Already Hugging Terra) Please take me~

Lea: (Comically Glares at his Teacher) THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, AQUA!? YOU'RE SIDING WITH THE ENEMY!!

Aqua: (Turns Back to Lea with Watery Eyes) I'm sorry, Lea!~ He was too much for me to resist, I sweeeear!!~

Lea: How did you let him persuade you that easily!? You're the Keyblade Master for God's sake!!!

Aqua: Everyone have a rough time resisting themselves from temptations, even Keyblade Warriors!

Lea: And!? You're better than this, Aqua! I know you have the willpower to pull away! You just gotta keep trying, woman!!

Aqua: I'm very happy that ypu think highly of me, Lea, but it's too late!! (Starts Snuggling onto her Boyfriend's Chest) I love my darling Terra to pieces and I'm NOT ready to let go of him and his beautiful singing!~

Terra: You really think I have that good of a singing voice, Aqua?

Aqua: (Turns Back to Terra) Of course. It was wonderful!~ You have a voice of an angel.

Terra: (Smiles Softly While Blushing) Aww~ Thanks. I wouldn't exactly say it's really that impressive in hindsight, but I'm glad you like it at least.

Aqua: I adore it just as much as I adore ypu everyday~

Terra: And you think I don't adore you as well? You're my everything, Aqua~

Aqua: Then show me just how much you with full force, my dear~ I can handle it~

Terra: (Picks Aqua Up and Holding her by the Legs) Your wish is my command~

Terra and Aqua finally begins to make out with one another in a very loving, passionate sense, as if they've been longing to do so for quite some time.

Lea: (Stares at the Passionate Couple With a Very Dumbfounded Look on his Face) .......................

Isa: (Walks Over to Lea with a Satisfied, Cocky Smirk on his Face) Enjoying the bitter taste of defeat so far?~

Lea: (Sighs in Utter Defeat as he Turbs to his Boyfriend) You're never gonna let me live this down, aren't you?

Isa: Naturally. I say one, two, maybe three years down the line I'll might consider the option of-

Lea: Just shut up and kiss the hell out if me already, man~

Isa: Glady~

And with that, Lea and Isa started making out with each other as well, as their foursome fun has now begun.

Hours of Loving Making Shenanigans Later in the Bedroom........

Lea: (Let's Out an Relaxed Sigh While Sharing Inside the Covers with the Others Next to Him) I never thought the bitter taste of defeat would feel this good and exhilarating, yet here we are.....

Isa: (Proudly Shrugs) What can we say? Our charms can be just as powerful as yours and Aqua's by a mile.

Terra: (Forms a Grin on his Face) And then some!~ (Hi Five with Isa Right Beside Him)

Lea: (Rolls his Eyes) Yeah, well congrats on your victory or whatever. It would've been a complete bust if a certain SOMEBODY didn't give in at the last minute!!

Aqua: (Pouts at Lea While Snuggling onto Terra) How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry, Lea. I couldn't help myself......

Lea: Yeah, well....('Sighs in Defeat') Fuck it. (Starts Snuggling onto Isa) I couldn't help myself either.

Isa: Of course you can't. (Forms a Teasing Smirk on his Face) I know how much you adore me~

Lea: (Rolls his Eyes) Uh-huh. Just try not to make too much of a big deal about this, 'kay?

Isa: No promises~

Isa and Terra: Vengeance is Finally Theirs

@cyber-wildcat

@albion-93

@keyenuta

@ma-lemons

@caleb13frede

#kingdom hearts #super smash ultimate #isa #terra #lea #aqua #samus aran #tifa lockhart #humor #cute romance #lea x isa #terra x aqua #no nut november #jodeci

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 2 years

Text

Shadow Tide

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.

“Adam!”

“ADAM!”

He awoke to a distant muffled noise, an insistent sort of beeping that wouldn’t go away coupled with a sort of roaring like he was standing next to a blast furnace. At first he thought that might be the case as he was hot, and getting hotter, but in his addled state of mind he couldn’t think why he would be taking a nap next to a blast furnace.

Personally, it seemed like a very bad idea all things considered

“ADAM!”

WARNING CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE: RESTART ENGINES

He was so dizzy, and the dizziness wasn’t going away, with every second it seemed to get worse as the heat rose.

“ADAM COME ON!”

Was that Sunny’s voice, and she sounded in distress.

If there was anything in the universe that could get him to wake up, it was the sound of Sunny, a scared sunny, and that wasn’t something that tended to happen very often. Adam’s eyes flickered open, and when they did, he wasn’t entirely sure he could make out what was happening. Lights flashed in his vision, and beyond that, everything was spinning in a kaleidoscope of fire and earth.

His head churned.

What was.

WARNING CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE: RESTART ENGINES

VELOCITY: 120 MILES PER HOUR, ALTITUDE 300 FEET

Altitude?

Velocity?

Huh, that was odd, he was pretty sure terminal velocity was about 120 mph give or take wind resistance most of the time. He just wished the world would stop spinning and- damn it was hot.

90 FEET

Why was,

Oh shit!

Adam turned holding his arms out to either side, and pulling himself out of a tumbling spin, the ground was fast approaching, or less the ground and more a burning lava field shedding sparks into the air, some of them high enough to catch on his clothing as he fell. The heat was incredible.

The ground was approaching fast.

“ADAM!!!!!”

WIth a roar his engines caught.

He slowed.

And shouted in pain as the heat around his legs rose to unbearable heat, one of his pant legs caught fire, and then he was rocketing back into the sky on a trial of golden light. When he was finally high enough, he reached down and batted at his pant leg quickly putting out the flames before they could do any real damage. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his breath was coming in slow, ragged gasps.

As far as burns were concerned, he couldn’t be sure. His adrenaline was pumping so hard, he doubted he would have been able to tell, but at least the rest of him was in tact.

He was just going to have to pray to the Architect that he was fine. If he came back to the ship with a single scratch on him, Krill was probably going to beat him to death with a bedpan, which in his view was a pretty ignominious way to go.

He turned on the spot trying to find the facility from whence he had come, but he didn’t see anything, just lava fields in all directions. He must have been blown partially off course during his flight. Inside his helmet Fealty helpfully provided a map for him dragging it onto screen in the guise of a little cartoon wolf. The animation was kind of cute, and he had never seen fealty do that before.

It was a learning AI so he probably shouldn’t have been surprised.

Letting go of the map, the little animation turned to look at him, and in a way it seemed almost concerned, which was weird to say about an AI.

Then again he worked with the empyrean, and the ship seemed to be concerned about everything, so he supposed it wasn’t really a surprise.

“Vitals.”

The little cartoon ran off his HUD, but then returned with his request carrying an Icon in its mouth that looked like a little heart. Dropping the heart, it expanded into his vitals systems.

He was no doctor, that was for sure, but he was pretty sure a heart rate of 180 was pretty normal for near death experiences.

His comms system crackled, and he thought he heard his name but the rest of the words were garbled.

“Whatever communication jammer the little monster Noctus had installed was working perfectly fine.

But still he had his map, and he followed directions the few miles back to the facility openly roasting in the burning atmosphere. He caught sight of the facility as a ugly hunk of towering metal in the distance, squatting like an ugly little rock troll over its lava river. On the top deck, he saw a flash of blue, and Fealty expanded the image to reveal Sunny standing on the top deck pacing manically back and forth. Didn’t take her long to see him, and when she did he could sense both relief, and rage in her body posture.

That was fair enough.

He landed on the deck, stumbling once, only to stumble straight into her upper set of arms. Arms which she used to grab him by the front of his armor, haul him into the air and shake him like a rag doll, “Can you stop almost dying FOR FIVE MINUTES!” Sunny didn’t shout much, in fact it was pretty rare.

However

Her aggression, while it was supposed to be startling or even frightening, was having the embarrassingly opposite effect on him. It was a real pity for her that beating the tar out of each other was considered an acceptable form of foreplay in her culture. And the fact she was lifting him, and half plated SE armor was…. Well he was surprised that was even possible.

Usually the SE armor would require the use of a small crane to put it on unassisted.

Damn

Still he recognized the fear, concealed by the anger in her voice, and decided not to point any of that out.

CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE: POWERING DOWN

And then

Everything shut off.

Including the SE exosuit.

Power rushed back into his own limbs. He grunted in surprise at the sudden crushing weight, and Sunny, realising something was wrong, set him down only to watch as he crumbled like a soda can under pressure.

“ADAM!” she shouted not for the first time that day.

Holy shit the armor was heavy, even half of it.

The SE suit was paired with the SE exoskeleton for a reason. A normal human body was not nearly strong enough to handle it on its own, of that fact he had no doubt.

He groaned, and Sunny ripped off the helmet.

Behind her Red walked up the stairs panting and wiping streams of sweat from his face.

Celex made contact just then mind to mind

“The vats are destroyed, though there is one little tiny problem.”

Adam didn’t like the sound of that, Celex sounded pretty casual, but he always sounded casual. He would probably manage to sound casual if he was on fire and the only thing Adam had was a ten gallon bucket of gasoline.

“Go on.”

“There were a lot of boid things in those vials.”

An image flashed in his head. He didn’t think it was intentional, but he thought he recognized the refinery room, now crawling with shadowy black entities in a state of hot pursuit.

“Might be a good time to start the shutt- mmmmm that is a problem.” he must have missed the peart where the shuttle was thrown into the laval flow. He doubted there was much left, and the chance of that being flyable was about the same chance that he would have of retiring to Bramble and living a nice secluded farm life growing corn.

Sunny lifted him partially up, “Adam, are you okay.”

“Yeah yeah, the heat shot my systems, I can’t move, but that’s kind of the least of our problems.” maverick and Ramriez appeared just then, also panting and sweating. Maverick’s edges had gone a bit fuzzy, and Adam thought he detected a subtle orange glow in her right eye.

“Get your weapons and cover that door.” He ordered.

Sunny needed no second prompting.

There must have been something ins his voice, because she took her spear in both hands twisting it apart. From either hip she used her second set of arms to withdraw two more weapons, which both expanded into short curved swords with glowing blue edges. When tapped together their tips crackled with energy.

“Well hello there.” He muttered

Sunny glanced at him, “What?”

Right now probably wasn’t the time to reference Obi Wan and General Grievous so all he said was, “Sorry, nothing Just, can you put my helmet back on before the catwalk burns my face off.”

Quickly sunny crouched down to do as he asked, which was right in time. The hot metal of the landing pad was nearly enough to start cooking his face raw, and he would rather avoid that as much as possible.

He tried doing a system reboot.

It didn’t work

Probably the heat had fried something.

Which seemed weird as he had walked through boiling water in this suit before, then again the entire suit had been there, so the outside thermal layer had protected everything inside. Now that he was wearing only half armor, there was always a chance that some of the more delicate systems had been compromised by the heat.

Sunny had stepped onto the top of the stairs, and behind her Ramirez posted himself up against the wall, using the railing to steady his energy rifle.

A dark Aura began to glow around maverick, and the shadow she cant on the landing deck was significantly longer than it probably should have been. Her right eye was glowing with a visible pinprick of orange light as she reached for her weapons.

“Coming your way.” Celex thought.

“Brace yourselves.” Adam called, voice muffled through the helmet.

Something rumbled under their feet.

But whatever sound there might have been was drowned out by the roaring of the leava beneath them.

It was silent for a moment, nothing but heat and sweat, leaving the three of them stuck in a tableau of silence.

And then.

The door at the base of the catwalk erupted open and Celex came charging out technicolor hair whipping behind him in a wild man. He turned as he raced up the catwalk and shot a burst of golden energy into the choke point just as darkness was beginning to bubble out of the doorway.

The light blasted them apart, but it didn’t last for long.

“What the hell!’ Ramirez shouted.

Adam tried to reboot his armor again.

But nothing.

Celex sent several more rapid fire shots into the open doorway and every time he caught them, but every time more and more appeared, until eventually one of the shadows was able to break out and race up the catwalk.

Sunny didn’t hesitate, lunging forward and slicing clean through its shadowy neck.

Sending it shead in one direction and its body in another where it dripped down into a large dark, tarry puddle.

And with that one

The floodgates were opened.

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fourseasonsfigs · 11 months

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The Clown Turns out to be Me

Did I buy clown outfits for my baos just for the purpose of making this picture? I mean...that would be ridiculous, right?

The fact of the matter is, this screenshot from Zhehan's Youku interview is entirely apropos in every respect for my Word of Honor merch buying. In this particular case, me saying, dolls? No way! I'm a grown adult. To later saying, alright, maybe the official licensed SHL ones. Then later, well, OK, I'll buy fanmade dolls but only Wenzhou, because I gotta draw the line somewhere and I really need space for the figs. And then later saying, fine, fine, JUST a couple really cute Junzhe dolls. But no baos! And then, well...

You see in the original post the clown shot they have on the screen is not only not cute, but kind of smeary. Now you might say that Zhehan is beautiful enough to offset any clown unpleasantness, which is true. But what's better than one Zhehan?

Zhehan and his bao counterpart!

I was so charmed by these outfits the second I saw them, that I knew I had to have them. They're kind of perfect for merch clowns of all stripes. I originally only bought one, for Hanbao (for the meme!), but when it arrived in the warehouse it was so adorable I had to have a matching one for Cubao.

There's a lot of pieces to this set. Here we have the front...

And the back. Or the top, in the case of the jester cap. Speaking of the cap:

You can see the hat brim folds up to reveal the bear clown face. I wouldn't have minded if it was stitched instead of folded, since I end up getting some of the lining showing when I put the hat on their heads. But, not a big deal.

This is not a Junzhe fan set, it's just a general multi-purpose doll outfit that the Weidian app decided to serve up to my timeline, because apparently they know exactly what I'm about. All clowning aside, that algorithm is no joke!

Here we have our cutie baomodels Cubao and Hanbao, ready to show off this fancy pants set. From the bottoms up, here we go!

We have our cute little clown shoes, that fit actually quite well over their little feet. Snug but not too tight.

Of course the shoes go right off to better illustrate the clothes! They'll be back. The little shirt with the ruffled collar fastens with a velcro strip down the front. You can see it straining there to fasten over Hanbao's little tummy, and over Cubao's round little tush. The shirt was definitely a bit snugger on Hanbao overall I would say, but it does fit!

The little overalls are just so cute! That colorful candy-striped drawstring cord is in fact just that. If these little baos were skinnier (gasp!) you could snug it up tighter, but as it is I let it out quite a bit for their cute little tummies. There was still enough string to tie in a mini bow! I love the colorful little beads.

And here we have the jingle bell bow! The jingle actually works, and accompanied me as I took these pictures. I found it quite charming, actually.

The shoes have made their re-appearance, little pompoms and all.

And here they are! Let me do some individual shots so you can see them up close:

Their expressions are just perfect for these outfits (she says, cackling madly).

You can also mix up the outfits by swapping out the shirts. Or eliminate the shirt altogether! Lots of options,

The Hanbao/Cubao expressions are just too perfect for these outfits, but since Suansuan is the light of my doll life, I had to dress him in this outfit (sans bow tie, to better show off his adorable little face). He's so cute!

You're more than welcome to use Zhehan and Hanbao's meme if you like. Like I said, perfect for all of us merch clowns out there. You know who you are!

#zhang zhehan #word of honor filming #word of honor interview #no idea what to tag this as #clownery #total clownery #the clown DOES turn out to be me #every single time #hanbao #cubao #suansuan

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kimnjss · 3 years

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boyfriend material | kth

⤑ series: kinda hot

⤑ pairing: campus flirt!taehyung x sweet girl!reader

⤑ genre: fluff !! // nd some smut!

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 6.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, biting, spitting, fingering (f. receiving), squirting, hair pulling if you like squint.

⤑ A/N: hiiii! this is wicked late nd i’m lowkey annoyed bc i did not plan for it to be - buuut i really hope you like it . as usual let me know what you think !! x

FEBRUARY 6TH, 2021 | 17:40

“This is for you,” Tae's grinning on the other side of the door, an assortment of flowers in the shape of a teddy bear held out in front of him. You're cooing, eyes focused on the gift. “It's cute!” The pure gleeful tone of your voice has a chuckle passing his lips.

Taking the bear from his grasp, you lead him inside your house. Jimin is sat in front of a muted TV, doing a terrible job at pretending he wasn't listening to everything the two of you were saying. Luckily, Jungkook had stepped out to pick up their dinner – no telling how much more obvious he'd be.

Setting the bear down on the counter, you're finally taking in Taehyung entirely. Handsome. Not like that was much different from how he normally looked. But handsome with effort tonight. He even went so far as to put some product in his hair, defining the permed curls that usually laid messily.

“You put on a suit!” Hands curling around the lapels of his pale mint jacket as your fingers smooth over the fabric. Standing this close to him, you can clearly see the blush that darkens his cheeks. A bit surprised at the new effect you have on him, but you don't let it show.

Fingers steadily bouncing up his chest until your able to tap your index finger onto the tip of his nose. “You look adorable. Let me go get my bag,” With you no longer clouding his senses with your sweet lavender scent. Positive it's the body wash lotion set he bought you for your birthday last year.

Yet, he doesn't remember it smelling this intoxicating in the store.

He had been so flustered before that he neglected to tell you how beautiful he thought you looked. Nearly lost his balance when you were opening up the door, standing a few inches above your normal height. Makeup done nicely, he's spent enough time on FaceTime watching you practice to guess how hard you worked on this look. And it paid off.

“Are you nervous?” Jimin's carries from the living room, proper up on his knees to look over the back of the couch.

Taehyung lets out a tsk, hands sinking into the pockets of his dress pants. Leaning back slightly, feigning nonchalance. What did he have to be nervous about? The facade only lasts two seconds before his shoulders are slumping and his brows are furrowing. “Is it obvious?”

Jimin's barking out a laugh, head tilting back as the sound of his laughter fills the room. “Oh, unbelievably. You can relax, though. She's excited,” That was the truth. Despite the fact this date wouldn't be something you'd chose for yourself, you were still excited to be going out with Taehyung.

And the fact that he had put so much effort into at least trying to impress you was reason enough for you not to complain. He was trying! Exactly what you asked him to do. It was going to be a learning process for both of you, but it would be fine. Determined to have a good time with him, no matter what.

“Okay. I'm ready to go!” Stretching out the last syllable of your words, hopping from the second step to the landing. Taehyung is straightening at the sight of you, plucking up your jacket from the back of the couch and draping it over your shoulders.

You thank him with a smile, stepping in front of him. “Bye, Jimin! Tell Jungkook to stay out of my room!” Blow a dozen kisses over your shoulder at him while Taehyung leads you out the door with a gentle hand on your back.

He's parked in front of your house, moving quickly to pull the passenger's side door open for you. Just from a quick glance, you can tell that he's cleaned up his car a bit. The small pile of empty water bottles gone from the backseat, his scattered gym clothes tucked neatly in his duffle bag. He even went as far as to vacuum the seats!

Dark eyes trained on you as he leans against the side of the door, his lower lip tucked into his mouth, tongue running over it. “You look gorgeous, Tiny.” He says with a slight nod of his head, eyes traveling from your face to your shoes. “Breathtaking, actually. It's insane,”

The giggle you let out is real and one hundred percent involuntary. A weird warmth spreading throughout your body at his compliments and the way he's looking at you. He just might drive you mental before you're even your driveway. He takes your flushed expression as your thanks, pushing your door closed with a large grin.

“Play something you like,” He's handing his phone over to you just after securing his seatbelt around his waist. Quickly tapping his code onto the screen and watching while his apps fall into place. The playlist that he with all your favorite songs is still saved among the rest of the lists.

So of course you're hitting shuffle on that.

He's whooping at the starting notes of the first song that plays, both of you passing lines of the song to each other as he turns on to the highway. He breaks into a fit of laughter as you breeze through the chorus, letting the whole highway know exactly what WAP stands for.

Laughter and screeched lyrics fill the car, you find his look of accomplishment each time he's finishing a verse oddly attractive. He's skidding to a stop fourteen minutes later and you're taking a moment to glance around outside. A look of confusion taking over your features.

“This isn't the restaurant?” With squinted eyes you're taking a better look at the building, turning to look over at him. “This isn't even a restaurant,” An abandoned building from the looks of it, a few stories tall. He doesn't seem as confused as you are, no, he's actually getting out of the car, pulling your door open.

You take his hand as he offers it, allowing him to pull you from your seat. The largest of grins on his face as he sets his hand on the small of your back. “You know I can kick your ass, right?” A little reminder as he leads you into the dark building. He's laughing, hand gliding from your back to your hand, loosely holding on to your fingers.

“Relax. Just trust me,” And because you'd follow Taehyung... well, into a creepy abandoned building, you let him lead you all the way to the old-fashioned elevator. He's pushing a few buttons and pulling a lever before the thing is rattling to life.

Shaking as it goes up and you lean against the railing to keep from tumbling over. His hand is reaching out to steady you, secured around your waist as he pulls you into his side. “Where did you even find this place?” It's way too comfortable in his arms, you don't move even when the shaking stops.

“It used to be a hotel... or a brothel or something,” He says with a shrug.

The elevator carries you all the way up to the highest floor and he steps out in front of you. “Wait, we're eating at a brothel?” Despite the begging questions begging in your mind, there's a laugh mixed in your words as he takes hold of your hand again.

“Something like that,” And that's all he says as he leads you down a narrow hallway, to the door at the end of it. He's pulling it open to reveal a set of stairs, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him.

He's all smiley and giddy, rushing you to get to the top of the stairs. And when you are, you sure the grin he's looking at you with could split his face. His hand on the doorknob as he bounces on the soles of his feet. “Are you ready?” Not even sure for what, but you're nodding.

No idea it was possible, but his smile grows as he pushes the door open. He's cute. Full cheeks lifted, both rows of teeth showing, his lips forming that boxy smile on his that you liked so much. With a sideways step, he's revealing what has had him bouncing since you pulled up to this place.

The first thing you notice is the lights. Dozen little fairy lights strung along the ledge of the building. There are candles too, lit and scattered around the floor and the edge. Flower petals scattered around, adding pops of color to the warm glow. A neatly set table in the middle of it all, besides it a cart holding a bucket of ice. You don't even have to look to know he's got your favorite drink cooling in there.

“You did this?” Right in front of your eyes, but you still can't believe it.

He's pulling you further on to the rooftop, stunned that you almost forget to move. Never has someone ever done anything like this for you. It was so simple and so nice. Private in a way you thought a dinner date should be, you couldn't believe it. “Did you really think I'd take you to some stuffy restaurant?”

You're sinking into the seat he pulls out for you, peaking down at the menu that's placed on top of your empty plate. “Tae's Five Star Restaurant,” You read the bold print out loud, gawking at the fact that he even printed out his own menu. Albeit, there was only one item to choose from, but still, this was amazing.

“I promised you five-star dining and I don't lie to you,” He's flicking the page open to point at the one item listed: 'Yn's Specialty Sampler'. “Entrées are small here too, but that's only because it's all your favorite foods,” He looks so proud of himself.

And you're in complete utter shock. “You made all of my favorite foods!?” Honestly, any more of this and you might burst into tears. When did do all this? How and why? What made him want to do this... for you?

The large plate he sets in front of you is exactly as he described it, a small taste of all the foods that you've ever told him were your favorite. From noodles to nuggets. He has his own personalized dish ready for himself, it's almost identical to yours considering you share a lot of the same favorites.

“I know you hate surprises, so I told Jungkook. I'm surprised he didn't spoil it,” You're thinking back to how adamant he was to keep you from saying anything to Taehyung about this. How he hammered in the fact that Tae should figure it out on his own, all while knowing that Taehyung had already figured it out on his own.

Props to Jungkook for keeping this one to himself. “I'm glad he didn't spoil it. I like this surprise,” You say with a smile that has the corners of his lips lifting, eyes squinting into his grin. It doesn't falter when he's leaning down to take the first bites of his food.

You're doing the same, surprised at how good it all actually is. Taehyung wasn't really the best of the best when it came to cooking, he had one really good dish and everything else was edible at best. So many times you've tight-lipped smiled through a meal he wanted you to try.

This was nothing like that. “This is wicked good!”

“Right? Jin helped me,” Something about him going to one of your friends for help putting this together warms your heart. A certain type of care that was tied into the simple action that has you swooning, eyes no doubt in the shape of hearts as you watch him from across the table.

He's focused on mixing his noodles around, brows furrowed and nose scrunched to make this real cute look of concentration. He's pushing a large bite into his mouth, lips poked out in a tiny pout as he chews.

Tongue poking out to lick his lips before he's reaching for his glass to gulp down some water. And you're staring at him the entire time like he's hung the stars. You realize after a moment, shifting in your seat and turning the focus on your own plate again.

“What should we talk about?” Silent moments never really happened between the two of you, not even the comfortable time. Both of you always had something to say and there was always a rebuttal follow after.

Maybe it was just you, but sitting across from him in this romantic setting, full knowledge that you were on a date... like a potential boyfriend date, had stolen all the conversation topics straight from your brain. It had been different when you were in the car, it was light and friendly, platonic. But sitting across from him, being forced to take him in as a man made it feel awkward(?) for some reason.

He's shrugging his shoulders, lifting a napkin to wipe at his lips while he leans back in his chair. “Why don't you tell me something new about you?”

“There's nothing new,” Soft laughter breaking through your words. “You know everything about me,”

Taehyung is sitting up in his chair, elbows resting on the table and chin finding his palms. “Tell me twice then,” He knew there were quite a few things missing in his mind when it came to knowing you. Of course, he knew the obvious things, your favorite foods, favorite movie, embarrassing middle stories, but he was quickly finding out there was a lot that he overlooked.

He wanted to know that.

It was oddly endearing to hear. Seeing how interested he looked, ready to hang on to every word of yours, even if he's heard it already. So you're quickly searching your brain for something to tell him, something that he may have been oblivious to.

Face lighting up when you're thinking of something. He had been with Ailee at the time, in the early stages of their relationships when she was able to convince him to 'back off' with spending time with you. That entire week was filled with so much recklessness one would not believe.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I got banned from a Cinnabon?”

FEBRUARY 6TH, 2021 | 19:18

Okay. So there was a lot Taehyung didn't know about you. The tiny bit of exhibitionism laced in all of your stories was something he was quickly picking up on. Actions screaming 'look at me' in such an obvious, he couldn't believe that he didn't notice until now.

He shares a lot of things about himself too. The shit he and the guys get into when you're not around to be the voice of reason (the job usually falls on Joon, but he's nothing with a few drinks and Jin on his arm). Drag racing to the edge of a cliff would be where you'd draw the line.

The look of pure horror on your face as he recounted the events is funny to him.

Dozens of stories follow all the way through your meal and moments after. It's comfortable. But the obvious drag of the toe over his shin keeps things from slipping too far into the friendly side. You play with the idea of going higher, wondering how his reaction would change the higher you go. But, you keep it in your head.

Barely halfway through the date, you couldn't just be jumping his bones because he impressed you with dinner.

“So what's the romantic walk in the park?” You ask when you're riding back down in the old elevator. Tae's got an arm slung over your shoulders again, using the rattle of the machine as an excuse to hold you close.

With the surprise turnaround of dinner, you're excited to see what else he's put together. Almost feeling bad that you had complained about tonight before it even happened. So sure that it was going to be something to roll your eyes at, but you were thoroughly enjoying yourself.

Which was inevitable whenever you were with Taehyung.

“You'll see,” He says in a sing-song tone, taking your hand and leading you out of the building. Fingers wrapping around yours the entire walk to his car where he's pulling the door open for you and guiding you inside.

He's moving to the backseat once you're door is shut, rummaging around on the floor before he's pushing the door closed. Sliding in beside you with a pair of your black platform sneakers in hand, extending them out to with a simple nod of his head. “Put these on,”

You're in shock because these are the same shoes you saw Jungkook take out of your room this morning. Ignoring you when you asked where he was going with them. And now you can't help but wonder just how many of your friends he recruited to make this date happen. It was sweet.

“Did Jungkook give these to you?” Speaking while undoing the tie on your boot, tugging it from your foot with ease.

Taehyung nods, hands moving to push the car into gear. “I asked to grab them after he said I should be sure walking around was comfy since you get grumpy so easily.” It's pretty obvious that Jungkook delivered your message about not wanting to walk around a park in heels in the most subtle way he knew how.

“I do not get grumpy easily,” You're saying with a roll of your eyes, bent forward to tie the laces on your sneakers that you miss the look on his face. But you hear the unconvinced scoff he lets out. “You threaten to beat one of us up at least three times a day,” He's pointing out with a chuckle.

You ignore his fact, extending your leg out in front of you to admire the shoes on your feet, twisting your ankle to give yourself the full view. “Well, you guys always deserve it.” Dropping your leg back down, you turn to face him. Arms crossed on the middle console, face leaned toward his. “So when you say romantic walk do you mean like a string quartet following our every step? Or have you arranged for dozens of shooting stars to appear at the end of our trail?”

Tae's letting out a laugh, hand lifting so he can use his finger to push your face away from his. “Yeah, cause I control the stars,” Forcing his attention to stay on the road to keep the urge of wanting to kiss you at bay. Something that he has been doing for the majority of this date. Date Yn was cute in a whole different light.

Alluring beyond imagination. He nearly lost it when he first felt the tap of your foot against his leg. Not wanting to make a huge deal out of it, so he sat there silently wishing you'd push it up higher. Putting way more focus than necessary on the words that were coming from your mouth.

And now you were leaning in close to him, intoxicating him with your sweet scent and soft voice. Trying to guess what awaits the two of you, each idea more outrageous than the last. You're moving closer with each one until your nose is pressed against his cheek. Car pulled to a stop at a red light, so your lips are puckering brushing against his skin.

“Tell me?” He's shaking his head, lips tucked into his mouth. The lips of your fingers bouncing from his wrist to his bicep, poking at it gently. “Please?” He thinks the pout on your lips is adorable and insistent way you press your lips to his cheek has his brain short-circuiting.

Not used to you like this. But not complaining in the slightest bit. He liked Date Yn. Although, he couldn't help but wonder if this was you on a date or you on a date with him. He doesn't think too hard on it, letting himself enjoy the feeling of your lip on his skin. Breath hitching when your mouth is reaching his neck.

You notice the sigh he lets out, just as your teeth are scraping against his skin. Tongue smoothing over it slowly and it has his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. You're pulling back with a laugh, head tilting up to look at him. Jaw set and eyes glued to the road in front of him.

“Please?” He's a bit ashamed of how his pants tighten at the sound of the begging in your tone. Ignores it as he ignores you, hiding the smile that pushes on his features as he's pulling into a parking spot. “You can relax, we're here.” He says it but doesn't mean it.

Seriously considering taking a few laps around the block if it meant having you kissing up on him like that. Your attention is shifting from him to where he's brought you. Which looks more like a normal park than anything. Before you can pester him for more answers, he's slipping out of the car, going around to open up the door for you.

Within the park is a bridge, couples scattered along it. Walking and holdings hands, sitting close and leaning over the trailing to look at the water. Street lamps creating a pretty glow underneath the night sky. The warmth of Taehyung's arm circling around your waist spreads throughout your body.

Easily being tucked into his side. “There's no crazy surprise, just thought you'd want to look at the water for a bit,” He's walking the both of you to the railing, arm dropping from your body to hold on. Peaking over the edge, you spot a few turtles paddling through the water.

“You know they scream when they fuck?” He's pointing ahead of you at the turtles in the water. “It's like...” He's imitating the loud screechy squeal they let out, loudly. Stealing the attention of some couples close enough to hear.

Hand punching against his chest as you shush him, the sound of your laughter pulling a soft giggle from your lips. “People are gonna think I'm out with a weirdo,” His smile is the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

His arm drops onto your shoulder to tug you toward him. “You are out with a weirdo,” He didn't even say anything particularly suggestive, but the tone he uses and the look in his eye has a chill running down your spine. Tae takes his time looking you over now that you're much closer to him, eyes scanning over your features.

“Did I already tell you how good you looked?” Arm looped around his and head tilted up so you're getting a better look at his face. “You might've mentioned it,”

Soft lips curling into a smile, he's reaching up toward your face, pinching your nose gently. “Good, then I only need to tell you that you're my best friend,” You're interrupting with a large smile. “I already knew that too,” He's used to the smart-ass look on your face, never knew how attractive he found it until now.

“And... there's more,” His arm is moving from your shoulders, fingers lacing around yours. “You're my best friend and I like you a lot. You know that too, but I meant it when I said I'd make it easy for you to see that. You're special to me and I'm not going to mess this up,” He's got this look on his face that you've never seen before.

Riddled with seriousness, not an ounce of playfulness hidden in his features. He was being genuine. And you could feel it, in some unexplainable way you knew he was telling you the truth. Not sure if it was the pretty dinner he had set up for you or being under the night sky and stars, but you could feel your guard melting away.

You don't bother to talk yourself out of it as you're leaning up on your toes, nose nudging his as your arms wrap around his neck, easily pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips.

FEBRUARY 6TH, 2021 | 20:59

You're walking back to his car hand-in-hand. Back pressed on the door while his hand rests above your head. Face inches from yours and it takes a lot of willpower not to lean up and kiss him. His hand glides up the side of your body until he's able to grasp your hip, pushing your hips back slightly.

“Should I take you home or do you want to spend more time with me?” The two of you had spent a gross amount of time walking along the bridge. Switching from holding hands, to linking arms, to being attached to each other's sides. Kissing breaks against the railing mixed in.

Now he's offering to drive you home, but you've had such a great time with him tonight that's the last thing you want to do. “I don't want to go home yet,” Mouth forming into a slight pout, your hands lifting to link wrists behind his neck.

His lips are sticky with your gloss, forming a slight smirk as he steps in closer to you. “So then that means....?” His brows lift expectantly, waiting for you to fill in the blank. “I want to spend more time with you,”

Pretty dark eyes shine at your words, even though he knew they were coming. Hand dropping back to curl around the door handle, he's carefully pulling the door open, moving you to the side. “I was hoping you'd say that,” He's ushering you back into the car before moving to the duck in on his side.

It's another fifteen-minute ride back to the abandoned building from earlier. You're way less sketched out this time around, following him in without a bit of hesitance. Cuddling close to him as the elevator rattles up and leading him up the stairs to the roof.

The lights are still up, sparkling prettily against the cloudy sky. Candles blown out, but the flower petals are still scattered around. The table is gone and in its place is an assortment of blankets laid out on the floor in front of it a projector propped on a few boxes. “Tae. There's no way you came up here and did this without me knowing,”

He's grinning from ear to ear, obviously proud of himself as he pulls you further out. “I had Hobi come and do it. He helped set up for dinner too,” There's a laptop set up beside the projector which he's walking to, fingers typing against the keyboard before the title screen of Howl's Moving Castle is appearing.

Standing straight, he's calling you over with a wave of his hand. And you're letting out a sound that would be embarrassing in front of anyone else, excitement building throughout your body as you bounce over to him. Both of you getting comfortable on the sheets as the movie starts.

You last a good twenty minutes.

His arm had been set behind you, your body cuddled into his side but you're deciding that's not enough. That you want to be closer. It starts with your arm wrapped around his torso, but a few minutes pass and you're not satisfied. So you're moving to sit between his legs, which is better.

Much better. Long legs caging you in and arms wrapped around your waist. You can feel the hammer of his heart against your back. He's trying hard to focus on the movie to not think about the way your ass is smushed against his dick and one wrong... or right move would have him standing at attention.

Just as he's finished his silent prayer that you don't move again, oblivious to your true intentions, you're shifting. Twisting in his arms until you're facing each other, legs spread and outstretched over his thighs. His eyes drop, catching a glimpse of your cotton panties, visible because of how careless you're being in your skirt.

“I've seen this movie a million times,” Hands slipping underneath his jacket to travel from his chest to his neck. He's kicking it into gear the moment he's seeing the look in your eyes, hands dropping to rest low on your hips. “Me too,” He's agreeing, visibly having a conversation in his head before he's letting his hands drop.

Watching your face as he squeezes, the flutter of your eyes, and the drop of your jaw does something to him. Effectively setting his body on fire and it only gets worse when you're leaning down to suck his lower lip into your mouth. “Wanna make out?” You're asking, but not really, tongue already toying with his lip.

“Yeah,” He breathes, just to hear the pretty moan you let out. Attaching your mouth to his, tilting his head back as you shift onto your knees. It's extremely hot how in control you are, never would've expected it coming from you – but he was learning to expect surprises when it comes to you.

You've got a fistful of his hair, swallowing every grunt he lets out into the sloppy kiss. Free hand reaching back to take hold of his, dragging it all the way up to your chest. Hand over his, you're closing his palm around your boob. His hand is much larger than yours, it's an obvious difference.

He's boldly swiping his thumb where he suspects your nipple to be, grinning against your mouth when he's sure he's found it through your shirt. His other hand moves quickly from your ass, secured around your waist as he easily whips your body around. Loud laughs leaving your lips as Tae swiftly flips you onto your back, positioning himself between your legs.

Again.

Large hands gripping the edge of your shirt, hurriedly untucking it from your skirt. His mouth is quickly finding your ear, teeth nibbling at the skin. You're not sure if you should concentrate on that or his hands slipping underneath your shirt. Mind made up when he's wiggling his underneath your bra, tweaking the nipple he had just teased.

“You looked so pretty, tonight. Who'd you get all dressed up for?” The answer to his question so obvious that it could be rhetorical. But, you know better. The breathy deep tone of his voice pressed right against his ear, being one indicator.

Tae pulls a moan from you by sinking his teeth into the little juncture between your jaw and neck. Nipple pinched between his middle and index finger and your eyes are fluttering, legs spreading. “You, Tae.” Sighing, your head lulls back as his tongue swipes against your skin. Hand moving to continue his assault on the other side.

“Just me,” He's mumbling, so you wouldn't have heard him if he wasn't so close. His head lifts to get a better look at your face, watching the way you bite back your moans as his fingers toy with you. “My tiny,” Leaning down, his nose bumps against yours, just before he's pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I want to hear you,”

His hand glides down your stomach, fingers meeting the piece of jewelry attached to your navel. It's just a thought, a passing one that he laughs at the moment it's popping into his head. But he checks anyway, shocked to see he was right.

Years and years ago, when you had just turned sixteen – he had gone with you to get your belly pierced. Joked about you getting a 'T' piercing since he was the one that drove you and paid for it. He bought it, as a joke of course. Asked you why you never wore it, still as a joke. But here you were six years later, wearing it. And just from the instant way his body reacts, he knows it was never a joke.

“God, you're fucking perfect.” Head lifting so he can see your face when he says it. The blush that takes over your features, that wasn't there when he had his hand up your shirt. Only appearing when he complimented you.

That's cute.

With a hand buried in his messy hair, you're pulling him down toward you, mouth capturing his again. Tongue pushing in his mouth just as he's slotting his hand between your legs, feeling out the wetness. “Shit, you're fucking soaked.” His words come out more desperate and needy than he intended, plagued by thoughts of how it would feel to be inside you.

“Bet I'd slide right in,” The tip of his finger traces over your entrance as he speaks, poking at the fabric just enough to have you thinking he'd finger you that way. “Think you'd be able to take all of me?” He's pushing his hips forward, hard cock pressed against your thigh.

Hips slowly rolling just so you can feel the entirety of him. “Fuck, please. Tae,” You gasp, lower back arching off of the blankets. “Shh, baby. I got you,” Easily nudging your panties to the side, the first thing he does is find your clit. Circling around it with the tips of your fingers as you squirm, screeched moans filling the air.

Neither of you hears the first crack of thunder. Barely notice the first few droplets that hit your bodies. He's more focused on slipping a long finger past your walls, to the knuckle. “Oh, fuck!” Body moving like a jolt as he curls his finger inside of you. Only pulling back to slip another one in along with the first.

He's picking up the pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you while quickly circling your clit with his thumb. The droplets of rain that have soaked his hair, rolling down his face is what has you realizing that it's raining. The thought knocked out of your head when he's pushing a third finger in, the slight pain of the stretch mixing with the pleasure beautifully.

No one's ever looked hotter, you're sure of it. Hooded eyes zeroed in on the movement of his fingers, teeth cutting into his lower lip. Hair damp and sticking to his forehead, the steady flex of the muscles in his chest is visible through his soaked shirt. A soft groan leaves his lips when he feels your walls squeezing around his fingers.

Dropping back down to pull your lips into another desperate kiss, teeth, and tongue clashing as the strokes of his fingers grow bolder. Shoving you toward the orgasm you're chasing. Your hips lift to grind into his hand, fingers curled around his ears to hold his head steady against yours. He's swallowing every gasp and whimper that leaves your mouth, grinning because he knows he's the cause of them.

“You wanna cum, baby? All over my fingers.. do you want me to make you cum?” It's almost like he's taunting you, tips of his fingers teasing that rough patch of skin deep inside of you and ripping a strained cry from your throat. “Please!” He's pressing down harder on your clit, thumb matching the pace of his fingers.

So close you can almost taste it, but it's quickly melting away with the slow of his fingers. Hands shooting to wrap around his wrist, keeping him from pulling all the way out. “Please, what?” He prompts with this maniacal look and you feel like your head is about to explode.

“Please, please make me cum, Tae. Please, I need it... wanna cum all over your fingers,” You hear him curse under his breath before he's pressing his mouth to yours again. It only takes a few strokes of his fingers, thumb pressed against your clit to make you fall apart.

Mind turning to mush, incoherent sentences flying from your lips as your hips grind into his hand. Riding out your orgasm and his fingers don't stop, in fact, he's pushing deeper inside of you, teasing your g-spot.

The dull pressure in your stomach intensifies, spreading throughout your limbs. It's not until his thumb is quickly moving around your clit do you realize what he's trying to do. Eyes going wide as the second wave rips through you, leaving your body in a stream that's forcing his fingers from inside of you.

He almost came at the sound of your scream, the breathless giggle that follows, a sound that he's not even sure you're aware you let out. His fingers are covered with your arousal, so of course, he's pushing them into his mouth to suck the taste off. You watch through hood eyes, the hollow of his cheeks as he sucks, pink tongue slipping out to leak between them.

You're reaching for him with weak arms, mouth open to silently ask for a taste. You half expect him to kiss you, but he's full of surprises tonight. His jaw moves and lips pucker, a glob of spit slipping out and landing on your tongue. Finger tapping at your jaw and you're quick to clamp your mouth shut, swallowing with your eyes on him.

Making a show of opening your mouth to flaunt its emptiness. He's laughing, even more, convinced of your perfection. Lips nearing to pull you in for another kiss, only to be interrupted by the quick shove against his chest, head bowing as you sneeze.

Once. Twice. Three times. He had noticed the rain before, but only now is he putting together how soaked you were... not in the good way. The tip of your nose red from the cold, hair that you spent an hour straightening falling in wet waves.

“Aw, baby.” He coos, reaching to pushing a few damp pieces of hair out of your face. “Let's get you out of the rain.”

FEBRUARY 6TH, 2021 | 22:37

“You sure you don't want to come in? You can change and spend the night,” Taehyung denies with a shake of his head as his car skids to a stop in front of your house. He'd want to fuck you if he was coming up... spending the night. Safe to say you want the same with the way you haven't let go of his thigh since he's started driving.

Not a complaint.

Fucking you was something that he wanted to do. Thought about it more times than he'd like to admit. But he had a small listen of things he wanted to do first. Tonight wasn't planned but could be excused because it was about you.

He had more things set in his mind to do to prove that he was boyfriend material. To you and to himself. He wanted to get this right. Needed to because it was you. You deserved the best, more than that. You deserved perfection. Because that's what you were.

“I'll call you tomorrow morning,” He promises.

Your face beams, not even bothering to mask your excitement. “Okay,” It's cute how giddy you are at the promise of a phone call.

Tae shoves the car in park so he can lean back to reach into the backseat. Rummaging through his gym bag, presenting a towel after a few minutes. Slightly used, but dry enough to shield you from the rain. He's handing it off to you, just before you're pulling the door open.

“Use that,” It smells like him. It surrounds you as you drape it over your shoulders, head tilting to look up at him.

He's close, large hand at the top of your head and thumb stroking soothingly against your scalp. “Bye,” He mumbles, but doesn't give you any space to move. And you're just as bad because you repeat his words, but don't make any moves either.

Just sat there staring at each other with these lovesick doe eyes, not saying anything. And it's not weird, or awkward. It's comfortable. Comforting. You don't want to move.

“Wanna go on another date?” Taehyung is the one to break the silence, a question that has your stomach filling with butterflies. Despite the fact, you've just ended a date with him. Haven't even left the car. “Can we go tomorrow?” It's eager and needy, but you don't care.

Care even less when he's nodding. “Yeah, okay. Bye.” He still doesn't move and neither do you. Correction, you do move, but only to get closer to him. Your goodbye dying on his lips as you pull him in for another kiss.

— you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Dead Clown 🤡

Jason todd x reader

Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.

Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.

The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.

“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”

“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.

“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.

“On the way.”

Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.

Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.

Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.

“Did you see who shot him?”

“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.

“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.

“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“

“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.

“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.

“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.

——————————

“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.

“How long? How long until you get results?”

“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”

Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.

“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.

“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.

———————————

Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.

He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.

Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.

It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.

“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.

“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.

“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.

“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.

“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?

Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.

“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.

“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.

“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”

You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”

Jason gasped a little before laughing.

“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.

He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.

Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.

“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.

“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.

Jason’s phone rang.

He gave you an apologetic look before answering.

“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.

——————————

Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.

“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”

Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.

“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”

A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”

“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.

Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”

“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.

“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”

“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.

The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??

“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.

“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.

“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.

“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”

Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.

“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.

——————————

Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.

Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.

He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.

You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.

“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”

“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.

“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.

“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.

“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.

“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.

“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”

“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.

You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.

“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.

“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.

“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.

“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.

“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.

“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.

“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.

#Jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood smut #batboy smut #the joker needs to die okay #and I’ll do it myself

1K notes · View notes

lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

Note

God Im pretty sure I’m going to hell ANYWAYS ok so this is a hybrid cat shigaraki, u end up adopting shigaraki from a very abuses owner so our little kitten is traumatized and terrified of everything, it took u a bit of time until he was comfortable with u , he doesn’t trust u in the beginning and thinks ur gonna do the same as his previous owner did but ur different u were so patient, sweet and soft not to mention he LOVED getting head pets from u ( he would never admit it tho) once shigaraki found out that he was in love with u he was stuck to ur hip ( he was super clingy) shigaraki’s heat was closer then expected, shigaraki didn’t want to ruin his chances with u but he couldn’t stop himself from humping everything so he hid in his room , you absolutely loved shigaraki since the day u saw him u knew u wanted him, when u first met him he scratched and hissed at u he was terrified, it honestly made u sick knowing the person who did this to him is still alive, u both got much closer he even started cuddling with u!!!! U soon fell in love with shiggy but u didn’t want to ruin what u guys have so u kept it to ur self , u noticed shigaraki was acting weird and hid in his room for two days at first u thought u might give him some space but u started getting worried u wanted to check on him before u came in u heard some little moans and whines, it just hit u that ur little kitten has there heat, u decided to help out 👀

Kinks pet-play of course dom reader and sub shigaraki maybe some pegging that’s all I can think of so feel free to add any kinks. I was listening to hello kitty by Avril Lavigne there was part where she says “ come come kitty kitty your so pretty pretty” that was inspired me to write this lmaooo

-🤡

HELLO KITTY

If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q.

InteractiveFics

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Samesies, but it's ok, we’ll go to hell together 😫

Now you might be wondering, Claire, why did this take you literal MONTHS? Well, I wanted to perfect it. I love this concept so much that I just HAD to spend so much time on it to make it perfect. And let me just say, it's pretty good 😏

Warnings: vaginal sex, overstimulation (male), anal sex with strapon, heat, pillow humping, marking mating, whatever you want to call it.

I've decided I'm obsessed with making cat shiggy meow ☺️

‘Where the fuck am I?’ Is shigaraki’s first thought of the day.

He’s never been on a bed this soft or a house this warm. Where is he? The blankets are all fuzz. The bed is littered with stuffed animals and pillows, and sweet-smelling candles, are burning somewhere. Is he being sacrificed?

“Hey, you're awake, ” a soft voice says, coming from the end of the bed.

He recoils in fear but, upon second glance, he sees that you aren't who he thinks you are. A girl replaces the scary form of his “master.” he looks you up and down. He has to admit you are quite pretty. The sight of someone other than the large man who used to own him excites him. Maybe this is a fresh start? But perhaps you're just like him...

“Get the fuck away from me, ” he snaps, scrambling into a corner.

“It's okay, sweetie, ” you say, “I'm not gonna hurt you, ”

“Everyone says that, meow ” Shigaraki retorts, “get the fuck away before I scratch your eyes out, ”

You bite your lip, “ok, Tomura, I'm gonna sit with you for a while, though. I'll be right across the room if you need anything, ”

“I don't need shit from you, ” he says, hissing making a show of his claws.

You laughed a little, more than a bit sad at his fear, “alright, but I’ll still be here, ”

He sits in silence for a moment, surveying his surroundings. He notices fresh clothes in the dresser, and there are some game consoles set up for him. How do you know he likes video games? Fucking creep. There aren't really any escape routes but escaping is complicated when he doesn't know where he is.

“Where am I meow?” he asks, sounding meeker than intended.

“I guess I kind of adopted you, ” you explain, “we’re at our house, ”

“Why did you do that?” he asks, the edge coming back to his voice.

“You just seemed so sweet, and the man who owned you was so mean. I couldn't just leave you there; he was hurting you, ” you say, frowning a little at the thought of Tomura getting hurt.

"Why do you care?" he snaps.

You sit closer to him, making him tense.

"I already told you, I think you're sweet Tomura," you repeat, "I just can't explain it. I'd really like it if we could become friends,"

'Or maybe more,' you think to yourself.

You can't deny he is very attractive.

"How do I know you're not lying meow?" He asks.

"I think you'll just have to trust me. Do you want to play some games with me?" you ask.

"Fine," he says, "only cause I'm bored,"

You grin, "awesome. What should we play?"

Shigaraki stands up and walks over to the games, tail swaying.

"This," he says, holding up animal crossing, "you probably like it cause it's dumb. What's your name anyway?" he asks.

"I'm y/n," you answer.

"I guess your names not awful, meow”, he mutters.

Truthfully, he already thinks you're beautiful, and you seem so kind. Shigaraki sits unusually close to you on the bed as the two of you play. You play late into the night; he makes a good bit of progress. Eventually, you feel his head rest on your shoulder, and he falls asleep on you.

You ease Tomura into your lap.

"There we go," you whisper, "you're safe now,"

Little did you know he's wide awake, smiling to himself and nuzzling his head closer to you. The sound of soft purring fills your ears as he drifts off into the most peaceful sleep.

He's pretty disgruntled when he wakes up alone. Where have you gone? Shigaraki doesn't have to wonder for long when you come back with a plate of food.

"Hey, are you hungry?" you ask, setting a plate of food on the table next to him.

He nods, digging in right away. You watch him eat like a man starved. Honestly, he might have been. He puts the plate down and moves closer to you. He's beginning to trust you more and more.

"Tomura, ” you say, “I have to put a collar on you now, just in case you get lost, ok?” you push some hair out of his face, “id be so sad if I lost you, ”

“fine, meow” he mumbles.

Truthfully his heart is melting at the thought. That you aren’t embarrassed by him, that you want to keep him safe and close to you. When you click the collar into place he hugs you, tugging at your shirt.

It’s shocking how fast he’s becoming comfortable with you but definitely pleasing. The next few days are calm, spent lounging around the house. He‘s getting so trusting with you. He occasionally pushes his head beneath your hand so you scratch his head. He always denies it, though; he has a tough-guy exterior to keep up.

However, something changes within him. He feels a strange warmth, not a necessarily bad feeling, around you. Tomura knows what cats were supposed to do. They are supposed to cuddle and play with their owners. Should he be doing that? Should he act like a “normal cat”? He concludes that you don’t want that at all. The lack of cat toys, a cat tree, and you allowing him to eat at the table solidify that.

However, he does want to cuddle. He tries to cuddle like all the time. But you have work, and you get tired, and you run errands, and he becomes sad. Tomura knows you have a life outside of him, but you really shouldn't. He should be your only priority. When Christmas break finally rolls around, and you start spending more time at the house, he's elated.

He has internet access, of course. He needs it to play his video games! But it was restricted. You don’t want your little kitty to see things he’s not supposed to. He starts to like watching movies too. At first, they‘re action movies with lots of blood and fighting, which you don’t necessarily agree with, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He slowly gets bored with them and stumbles across a romance movie.

Tomura becomes engrossed in them. He loves watching the couple fall in love and be happy. One movie, in particular, weirds him out. It looks like they were taking off their clothes. They start kissing and making strange noises. He doesn't like it one bit, it makes his cheeks feel hot, and his cock gets semi-hard. He turns it off immediately.

It doesn’t take long for him to forget about it and keep watching different ones. Soon he finds some similarities between him and the main character. The way they feels around their love interest is the same way he feels around you. Is he in love with you?! It seems so and you have just recently come to the same conclusion as him.

Soon he’s all over you, following you everywhere. Tomura pushes open your door every night and snuggling up to you. He’ll purr and nuzzle into you, happy sighs escaping him. Whenever he “accidentally” wakes you up, you never get mad at him. You just cuddle him and talk all night, giggling and talking until you both fall asleep.

Oddly enough, you‘re oblivious to his feelings for you. Whenever he cuddles with you, you hold back the urge to kiss him on the lips. You don’t want him to feel awkward around you. Soon he starts acting strange without any change in behavior from you. He stops coming in your room at night and wont come out of his room.

You don't want to be overbearing, so you give him space...for a while. Meanwhile, in his room, Tomura is lying naked on the bed, panting and sweating. He feels strange, just like he did when he was watching that movie. He doesn't understand what‘s happening to his body but when he humps his pillow it feels like an itch is being scratched. The first time he cums he‘s terrified and lets out a scared “meow!”

But it feels so good. The feeling doesn't go away, so he decides the only solution is to keep humping. Soon he‘s limp but still grinding his hips on the poor pillow. He takes deep whiffs of your sweater, huffing it like a drug. His tongue is lolling out of his mouth and his eyes are rolling back in his head. He‘s starting to hurt down there but he just can't stop cumming.

Oh, why can't he reach the phone you left in his room? Why is his voice too hoarse to call out to you? Tomura is scared. He can’t eat or sleep. Sweat has soaked into the mattress and his poor little cock is starting to hurt. You‘re getting worried too so you wander up to his room and callout to him, pressing your ear to the door.

“y/n meow,” he calls out hoarsely, almost a whisper.

All you can hear are desperate whines and moans. Is Tomura...in heat? Oh, your poor kitty is probably in so much pain! You have to help him, so you open the door and see him. It is a pathetic (yet erotic) sight. He looks so desperate. He‘s crying and looks so scared. Tomura just whines and reaches out to you even though he‘s far away.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you whisper.

You walk over to him and scoop him up, sitting him on your lap. He continues to try and hump you, but you can tell how much his poor dick hurts. You hug him tightly, feeling guilty that you took so long to check on him.

Tomura tugs at your shirt, he can't figure out why he wants you to take off your clothes, but he does. You oblige, ready to do anything your sweet kitten wants. When he sees your top half naked, he feels his cock beg for you. He starts to tug aimlessly at your pants, and you take them off, once again, all too eager to please.

He doesn't have any sexual knowledge, but he has instincts, pure carnal instincts that tell him just how to breed his mate’s tight pussy. Tomura grabs your hips, his claws accidentally puncturing the skin. You yelp as he pulls you on top of him. When he slams you down onto his long fat cock he doesn't get the rush of pleasure he expected.

He's hit with an extreme amount of pain and lets out a panicked meow. You lift yourself off of him quickly, and Tomura misses the feeling of your cunt even though it caused him so much pain. He paws at you, but you keep him from shoving himself in you again.

“Tomura,” you say softly, “you need to calm down; you're hurting yourself,”

“Meow! need!” he cries.

“So needy,” you mutter, “youre just gonna hurt yourself,”

“Don’t care! Need!” he begs.

“Hold on,” you say, getting up and ignoring the insistent pawing at your shirt as he whines.

You rifle through your drawers until you find the dildo you got and the free strap-on attachment that came with it. You smile and gran some lube; this is exactly what you need for your pretty kitty. He watches with curious eyes and blown out pupils due to pure lust.

“Let's give your poor cock a break,” you say.

He nods, but where are you going to put that? You climb onto the bed with him, and he hugs you, sucking on your tit. He feels so at peace. Your boobs are so soft and pretty. He wants to stay like this forever. But when Tomura feels those nimble fingers of yours start to trail across his lower back just above his ass he shivers.

He leaves open-mouthed kisses across your chest; he lets them get sloppy and wet as you rub his back.

“Need,” he whispers again, eyes half-lidded.

You tilt Tomura’s head up and give him his first proper kiss. He's seen this in movies and knows you're supposed to say “I love you” after...right? He doesn't know the full meaning of the three little words he's about to say.

“I love you y/n,” he says when you pull away.

“I love you too,” you say, taken aback just a bit.

He gives you a love-drunk smile and tries to rut against your thigh but yelps again, remembering how sensitive he is.

“C’mere pretty kitty,” you coo, “lay on your back for me,”

He nods and lays on his back, painfully aware of how exposed he is to your careful, calculating eyes. He starts purring when you muzzle your head into his neck. Are you going to mark him?! Do you really want him to be your mate?! Oh, he hopes so! He smiles, and his breathing picks up, but his ears flatten on his head when you pull away.

“No mate meow?” Tomura asks, face falling.

For the first time all day, he feels his cock soften sadly. He doesn't understand the look of confusion on your face and tears up a bit.

“I'm not sure I understand,” you say, brushing some hair out of his face and feeling guilty when you see his teary eyes.

“I want you to mark me,” he says, bottom lip quivering, “please meow?”

Your eyes widen, “oh,” maybe you did learn something useful in school, “of course honey,”

You lean down again, unsure of how hard to bite his neck. You can tell exactly where you're supposed to bite. A strong musky smell radiates from the side of his neck and you decide to sink your teeth in until you break skin. When you do, he sighs happily at the feeling of your admittedly dull teeth (in comparison to his) in his neck.

“Mate,” he purrs.

You pull away when you can tell he's satisfied. He pulls you in for another kiss, tasting some of his blood on your tongue. He doesn't notice your fingers traveling to the bottle of lube on the bed and pumping some onto your fingers. He does notice when you start to rub around where you're not supposed to.

“Hey! What are you doing, meow?!” Tomura says, squirming at the strange new sensation.

When you find your mark and circle his asshole, any objections he just made the in the past. When he feels your finger begin to sink into his tight hole, he sighs happily. He isn't supposed to be the one getting penetrated, but he can't help how much he loves the feeling of your finger wiggling around inside of him.

When you add in another finger, he meows happily, grinding on your fingers. All this pleasure without the pain, what has he done to deserve this? To deserve you? Tomura’s back arches as he moves his hips; he can feel himself coming to a different kind of climax, but you pull away right when he's on the edge.

He looks up at you with pleading eyes and trembling thighs. He sees you putting that strange liquid on something much larger and gulps. He feels his asshole gape around nothing, waiting for something to fill it up.

“Is that going inside me, meow?” he asks nervously.

“It won't hurt,” you say, cupping his face, “i promise,”

Tomura gulps but nods. He trusts you. When the head of the dildo pushes into him he's tense and panting already.

“You have to relax,” you whisper in his ear, “be a good boy and relax,”

He tries, letting the nervous knot in his stomach untangle. His breathing slows as you push in more of the dildo. It starts to feel good, having you in some of him, and it's even better when the head of the dildo hits a spot that makes him mewl. He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down to him, causing you to poke his prostate again.

He moans and buries his face in your neck, purring loudly. You start to move your hips at an agonizingly slow pace. You worm your arms under him and hold him close while you help him adjust. He's planting and mewling happily.

“Love you,” he moans, “I love you so much y/n,”

“I love you too, Tomura,” you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear.

“It's so good,” he groans, “you're amazing meow. The perfect mate,”

“Yeah?” you say, too focused to respond.

He nods, “the best ever,”

You keep thrusting, speeding up just a bit. That makes Tomura yelp happily. His tongue lolls out as he smiles. There's not one thought behind those beautiful red eyes—just pure pleasure. It's taking over his entire body and he can't help but meow happily.

He likes to think of himself as more refined than most hybrids. More human, but all he can think of now is how wonderful being your little kitty is.

“I'm gonna cum,” he whimpers, “gonna cum, meow”

His dick quivers, and his asshole clenches as cum spurts out of him, but it's still not enough. To satiate his desires, he needs to be inside of you when he cums. When you pull out of him slowly and remove the strap on, he bites the bullet and plunges into you, ignoring the pain that makes him sob and absolutely hammers into you.

You're helpless underneath him as he has his way with you. You can't deny how good he feels inside of you. Tomura hates how long he's lasting. He needs to get this over with, although having you cum on his cock would be pretty nice. When he feels you worm your fingers down to your clit he starts to be thankful he hasn't lost his mind and cum yet.

That look on your face makes him so happy. He wants you to be happy. He wants you to cum, so he holds out until you milk his cock with your cunt. And when he lets go it's heavenly. The itch has been scratched, and he collapses on top of you, purring as his tail twitches. You scratch behind his ears to help him get some much-needed rest.

It works nearly immediately, and your sweet kitty is asleep in mere minutes. You love Tomura more than you can put into words, and he loves his pretty little mate. His adorable little y/n.

421 notes · View notes

kingdaddydaichi · 3 years

Note

One of my favorite stories I’ve ever read is “Lessons Learned”. So I would like to request something similar with a mixture of Hard dom/ Brat tamer Bakugou ❤️‍🔥 Take it in whatever direction you want, I know I’ll enjoy it however it ends up 😏

@ssplague, bestieeee! Tysm! 🥺💕 I'm sooooo fucking sorry it took me so long to answer your ask! It made me weak the first time I read it! I've got so many other wips I should probably be working on rn, but I finally said FUCKIT! I nEED this in my life rn!

I LOVED writing Lessons Learned - god! It was hard to get through tho. Nearly every time I sat down and started working on it, it always ended the same way and that's all I'ma say rn! 😈

Yes. I see your HardDom!BratTamer!Bakugou and raise you Jealous!Exhibitionist!Bakugou. 💅🏼💋

I hope it's worth the wait...

MINORS 👏🏼 DO 👏🏼 NOT 👏🏼 INTERACT 👏🏼

The Performance 💥 HardDom!BratTamer!Jealous!Exhibitionist! Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader 💥 NSFW

Warnings: slight dubcon, Dom/sub dynamic, possessive dynamic, exhibitionism, marking, circle jerk, creampie, absolute filth

Word Count: 2.9k

It was half past 9 when he walked through the door at the well-to-do club where you'd been enjoying down time with some of your friends. He kissed your cheek and sat down in the half-circle booth next to you, putting his warm, athletic arm over your bare shoulders.

"How long you been waitin'?"

"Maybe an hour?"

He looked down, grumbling. "Got here as soon as I could". He glanced at you with his bottom lip poking out.

You propped your cheek on your hand and smiled at him, rubbing his arm. "I know, babe. It's perfectly fine, I understand".

"Ay, Bakubro! You finally made it!", Kiri yelled from across the table.

Katsuki snarled at him. "Yeah! Some of us have to actually work for a living!"

At that very moment, the cocktail waitress stopped by the table to take Katsuki's order and Mina yelled, "Yes please, for the love of god, get that man a drink!"

He growled at her before turning back to the waitress. "Four fingers of whiskey straight, no chaser".

She scampered off and everyone fell into the chatter and laughs they'd been sharing when Katsuki arrived.

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You were on your way back to the table from the restroom when you felt fingers against your elbow and a voice behind you say, "Hey, (y/n)!"

"Oh hey!" It was a young man a few years younger than yourself who worked in the same office building as you. "Fancy seeing you here". He appeared to be with a couple of friends judging by the prying eyes peering from behind him, smirking.

"I know, right? I've been here a few times, but I don't think I've seen you here before".

"Really? I come here quite regularly and I've seen you here before".

"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I just haven't been paying attention".

"Don't worry about it! I just thought I'd say hi this time".

"I'm glad you did! Maybe I'll see you again the next time I'm here". You waved your fingers at him and started back towards your table again only to see Katsuki's eyes about to burst into flames as he watched you approach.

When you sat down, he leaned in. "Who's he?"

You waved him off. "Just a guy who works in the same building as I do".

"What did he want?"

"Nothing, just wanted to say h-"

"Bullshit". He placed his hand over your thigh under the table. "When a guy looks at a woman the way he was looking at you, trust me baby, he wants something". His large, rough hand squeezed the meat of your thigh beneath it. It hurt and you gripped his wrist in an effort to keep the whine in the back of your throat from escaping. The rest of your party was too close in proximity...at least one or two of them would've heard you. "I don't like it when other guys look at you like that". He dragged his fingers upward, taking the hem of your skirt along with them.

"Katsuki, get ahold of yourself. They're just looking...it's not like they're touching me".

He put his mouth to your ear. "Fuck it. Let 'em look". His hand moved further up your skirt, parting your legs enough that you could feel the cold draft of air against your dampening panties. "It'll just give me every reason I need to show them who you belong to".

His eyes shifted away from yours and you followed them to see what he was looking at. The guy who had just been flirting with you was watching as your husband's hand worked between your legs. His eyes flicked to Katsuki’s whose dark, lopsided, toothy grin spread across his handsome face, pleased that he was making himself clear to the other man that he had already laid his claim on you.

His pinky grazed your clothed, wet slit and you squirmed in your seat, trapping his hand between your thighs hoping it would make him relent. "Stop it, Katsuki", you growled at him.

But he twisted his wrist until he was able to push your panties aside with two of his fingers. He sank said fingers between your inner folds, coating them with your clear slick before curling them upwards to flick them over your hardening clit. You shuddered under his touch as he locked eyes with the other man, making sure he was watching when Katsu raised his fingers to his mouth, sucking them both off at once.

You glanced down to see Katsuki's cock pushing against the fabric of his slacks, tight against him in his sitting position. Showing other men that you belonged to him had always put him in a rut. You used the situation to your advantage and knowing he wouldn't follow you with a half, but nevertheless large, erection for everyone to see, you stood up in one fluid movement, turning away from him and strutting to the bar.

As you waited for the busy bartender to take your order, you noticed the rather strapping gentleman who stood beside you, looking down at his glowing phone screen.

"What can I get for you ma'am?"

You looked back at the bartender, who'd finally spoken to you. "Oh, um- (favorite drink)-"

"On me", the man beside you said.

"Yes sir", the bartender said before turning to his task.

You looked again at the handsome man beside you - taller than Katsuki, but he didn't exude quite the same confidence he did. Then again, not many people did.

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that".

"I know". He gave you a smug, sidelong look. "I wanted to".

You tried to hide your smile, but fuck. His sexiness could easily go head to head with Katsuki's. You watched his eyes travel from your face down to your toes and back up again. You could almost feel your possessive husband's fiery eyes burning a hole in your back.

You turned to face the gentleman beside you, glancing over at the blond in the process. When you focused your gaze back to the man beside you, Katsuki stood up and started stalking towards you. His dick still wasn't completely soft yet, but he didn't care. He probably wanted the man next to you to see the bulge in his pants, using it to his advantage during the impending exchange at the bar. Not many men had a bigger cock than Katsuki and he knew it.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, squaring his hips off at the other man, most likely willing him to notice his size. "Let's go".

You pushed back against him. "Stop Katsu, I'm not ready to go yet".

He locked eyes with the man beside you and put his mouth right up next to your ear. "Would you prefer I fuck you right here on this bar to show everyone who your slutty pussy belongs to? Because I will! You're already wet and aching for my cock, aren't you, pretty girl?"

He was NOT bluffing. You knew your Dom. It had only taken him once before to show you that he was not above covertly pulling his dick out and pushing it inside your hot cunt while standing behind you at a crowded bar, much like the one you were standing at now.

The bartender sat your drink down on a small napkin, but Katsuki pushed it back to him and said, "Oi! Throw this one out and make her another one". He glared at the taller man beside you. "ALL of her drinks are on me, got that?"

He slid two thick fingers inside the plunging neckline of that little black number you wore, carding your hard nipple between them as he rutted his hips against your bottom. "Well?"

A part of you wanted him to fuck you then and there with the other man watching. But you'd never let it actually go that far. "Katsu, please go sit down and I'll be over after I get my drink since I have to wait longer for it now". You rolled your eyes.

He leaned back, his vermillion eyes searching yours until they locked onto the feminine form brushing past your shoulder. He reached out and stopped the cocktail waitress in her tracks, leaning down to her ear, whispering something. Without another word, he calmly walked away and sat back down at the table.

Stubborn as you were, you held your position at the bar. A couple of minutes later, out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement near the table where Katsuki was seated. The same waitress was now leaning down and whispering in his ear, her lips less than an inch from his face. He caught your gaze and smirked before turning his face towards hers. For a second it looked like he might actually kiss her. You were relieved for about half a second when she stood up and started walking away from him, only to watch him stand up as well and follow her up the stairs into the private VIP area.

Now it was your head that was about to explode. I know he did NOT just invite a fucking cocktail waitress to the VIP so he can fuck her! He turned the tables faster than a cheap hooker turns tricks on the streets of Vegas. You knew how other females looked at him. Hell, males too! That girl was probably 10 years your junior too, barely old enough to be serving alcohol. And now you watched as she led your husband up the stairs.

Drink forgotten, you marched your pretty, indignant ass right up to the 2nd level, ready to snatch a bitch up by her hair only to find Katsuki sitting on the couch, alone.

"Seems you're a petty, jealous asshole too".

Relieved, you plopped down on the couch next to your faithful husband, putting your arm over his waist as he pulled you in and kissed your forehead.

You lowered your head to his chest only to notice once again that his cock was pressing against the confines of his pants. You stroked him through the rough material as he raised up, pushing his erection closer to you, physically begging for more of your touch. You palmed him a couple more times before unzipping his slacks and pulling his cock out. He wasn't fully hard yet, but if you had anything to do with it, he was going to be standing at full attention in less than a minute.

You lowered your head further and pushed some spit through your ruby lips onto the angry head of his dick. He watched as you lowered your mouth and swirled your tongue around the smooth texture of his tip before sinking your lips down around him, taking as much of him into your mouth as possible. Not easy, but you're a blow job champ determined to take all of it for the team.

Only a couple of minutes passed by when Katsuki pulled you off his cock. You raised your lusty gaze to see the two men who'd flirted with you standing side-by-side, eyes as big as half dollars at the sight of your tits hanging out of your dress with a fat string of saliva hanging from your bottom lip. Your face snapped to Katsuki who had a shit-eating grin on his face. "What the fuck, Katsuki? Why are they here?"

"Because I had them brought here to watch and see under no uncertain terms who the fuck you belong to!"

Your protest was cut short when Katsuki flipped your body around so that you were facing the back of the couch. He pushed your skirt up around your waist and hooked your soaking panties with his thumb, pushing them aside and holding them against your ass cheek. "I suggest you hold onto something, you bratty cockslut!"

"Baby, no, I don't want them to see-". You averted your eyes from theirs.

Katsuki gave his thick cock a couple of strokes before pushing the head against your weeping entrance.

"Katsuki, you can't-". Your words failed you as he sank his meaty cock inside you.

He looked over at the audience of two, who were enraptured as they watched your husband pull himself nearly all the way out before gliding himself in balls deep again. He set a rhythm, making sure that the two guys who'd had the audacity to flirt with you could see the striations of your slick along his length as he fucked you. The younger of the two, the office boy, had been palming himself through his pants.

"Oh my god, Katsu! They're watching us!"

"I know, that's the fucking point!" Maintaining his pace, he looked at them. "You understand now that she's mine?"

Their mouths moved, but no sound came out. Katsuki pounded his thighs against you harder, a sharp clap ringing through all 8 ears. "Answer me!" The taller man's erection was now evident through the fabric of his pants.

"Y-yes, I un-understand", one of them mustered while the other one could only nod.

Katsuki's wet balls were slapping your clit now, and you whimpered "Katsu? Baby?"

He wrapped your hair around his fist, ignoring your mewl. He never broke eye contact with the men who'd made passes at you. "Tell her who the fuck she belongs to".

The younger one had pulled his cock through his open zipper, jerking off his smaller dick with his eyes locked on the point where your body met your husband's.

"Look at her!", Katsuki commanded. Both pairs of eyes met yours, their dry mouths hanging open. "SAY IT!"

They both jumped. "Y-you...belong to h-him", said the younger man who had been jacking off.

"The name's fucking Bakugou! Fucking say it!"

The same guy said, "You b-belong to B-Bakugou!"

By this time the taller man had pulled his dick out too, much larger than that of the other guy, but he still didn't hold a candle to Katsuki.

Katsuki's eyes darted to his. "Say my fucking name!" Your pussy was sucking him hard and his voice nearly cracked.

"B-Bakugou..."

"That's right...Bakugou. It's her last name too, you fucking beta. Don't you ever forget!"

The man's eyes drifted over to your pussy just in time to see the pink ring of flesh around your husband's cock begin an undulating cycle of flexing and relaxing. "Nnn-Katsu! G-gonna cum!"

Your thighs tightened and your hips stopped rocking back against Katsuki's, but the clamping down of your vaginal walls only got stronger as you unraveled around your husband's weighty cock.

He pulled back on the fistful of your hair, still plunging himself deep within your quivering cunt. Smarmy as ever, he looked at the taller man again. "Who does this fucking pussy belong to?"

"Y-you! I-I mean, Bakugou!"

"You're goddamn right it fucking does". Katsuki's groan escaped on the tail end of his words.

You could feel his cock tensing up inside you, such was his size. "Katsu?" Your body had turned to putty as you tried to hold onto what little shred of dignity you had left. "Cum for me, Katsu!", you whimpered.

"Why the fuck should I?"

"C-uz I want y-ou to mark m-e!" Your eyeliner smeared across the leather material of the couch cushion.

"That's a good a reason as any", he said before shifting his eyes away from the small circle jerk and back down to you. "Ah fuck, baby, yeah. I'll fucking mark you alright!" His eyes darted back up to that of his audience. "Gonna make sure my musk saturates you so they can fucking smell me on you!"

Drool seeped from your open mouth against the cream-colored leather. Your tits swayed and your ass cheeks rippled from the sheer force of Katsuki's relentless thrusts.

"Ah fuck, baby, gonna fill you up with my seed! So fucking full of it you're not going to be able to hold it all in!" Katsuki's hips snapped against your ass one last time before locking up, his ass flexing, relaxing, flexing, relaxing, flexing.

The younger man who'd been jacking off whined quietly as he blew his load onto the carpet beneath him.

"Nn fuck", the taller one groaned.

Finished with his orgasm, Katsuki pulled his cock out, bouncing under its own weight. He pulled your hips around to put on display the creampie he'd left behind inside you. The taller man, still tugging on his cock, watched as your pussy clenched, causing some of Katsuki's seed to ooze out of you and drip onto your ankle. That's all he could take and he came rather loudly, his cum nearly hitting you on the first release, such was the power behind it.

Katsuki frowned at both of them. "She's fucking mine. Don't you ever fucking forget it. Now...get the fuck OUT!"

They barely got their sticky, softening cocks back in their pants before retreating downstairs to no doubt go straight to their respective homes and have existential crises because they just orgasmed while watching another man fuck and cum inside an attractive woman. Porn was one thing, but Katsuki's show of dominance had hit different. And they had to wonder if they were wrong for it somehow.

Meanwhile, your husband helped you pull yourself together at least enough to make it to the car to take you home.

And with the privacy window partially cracked open, the driver was able to watch as Katsuki lapped up both your fresh slick for him, as well as his own seed as it continued to leak out.

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