#the slightest bits of suspicions of them being groomed

[inavagrant-a]

Fuck Ellio t G indi.

I am so sorry to everybody affected by this but my heart goes out mostly to those who fell victim to him and his stupid ass "I do what I want" attitude. Please take care of yourselves.

And don't forget to always stan Yoimiya's and Beidou's VAs respectively.

#out. #elliot gindi cw #grooming mention tw #i already said my peace elsewhere but #please take care of yourselves #and if you ever encounter a minor who you have even #the slightest bits of suspicions of them being groomed #please please try to help them in which way that you can

[skellebonez]

How's about Shadowpeach with 10 and 73, specifically with Wukong taking care of Spider Macaque in the Spider Monkie AU?

The ShadowPeach in this fill is pretty vague, so if you don't ship them I think you could still read and enjoy this! I really wanted to just have an introspection from Macaque about what the transformation has done to to him and how much he thinks it had done to Sun Wukong as well.

Stop it! You’re only making it worse!/You’re putting an awful lot of trust in them.

"Macaque?"

"I'm fine, Peaches."

Macaque was not, in fact, fine. In any sense of the word. His back and shoulders ached horribly, deep set into the muscle, aches that stemmed from what he had willingly put his body through. The extra height. The new grown fur.

His extra set of arms, totaling four overall, set below his regular arms that had their own shoulder blades to ache with. No, he was not fine.

Not to mention the headache from his extra eyes...

The fact he was laying face down on a pile of leaves because he ached too much to make it back to any of buildings was a pretty clear sign to anyone passing that while he sounded convincing, as always, he was clearly lying.

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?”

The question made Macaque pause in his musing and look up. It wasn’t as if the offer to help was unexpected, no. Wukong had made it very clear since they reunited that he can and would help in any way possible. It was the way the help was offered. Or, rather, the way he was asking if he could offer any to the ailing demon.

It was... different.

Maybe because now that Wukong went through something similar he could possibly understand a bit more.

It was odd for the dark furred monkey to have to crane his neck to look up at the other now. Sun Wukong towered over... well, everyone. Even Sandy was shorter than the new Spider-Monkey King. The only person who could probably best the other in stature now was possibly DBK, and that was on a day he wasn't using his own magic to shift to his smaller form.

He'd also been granted a third set of arms, instead of the extra eyes that Macaque had to get used to and deal with on a regular basis. But often he wondered if the trade off was worth it...

The places where they matched transformation wise, however, were their fur and eyes. Both had grown a mixture of coarse spider fuzz and soft monkey fur, often times mingling into a warm mixed coat that granted extra protection from the elements. Macaque's black fur had grown a deep purple over his chest and arms, offset by silver bands and stripes in places. Wukong's, on the other hand, became a soft white and a light peach fuzz shade that mixed with his natural deeper fur color. And their eyes each attained a brilling green hue.

Spider Queen once said they shone like emeralds and Macaque couldn't find himself arguing with that.

What he could argue with, however, was the fact that HE got really cool purple markings around his eyes and Wukong's face marking didn't change at all.

So point 1 to him for getting something extra.

Built in eyeliner.

"Mac? Mango?" Wukong asked again, pulling the other from his thoughts abruptly. "I can leave you alone for a bit if you want. Check in on you later?"

Macaque tensed and pain shot through his spine and, for some reason, the thought of suddenly being alone again filled him with dread.

"Can you..." he started slowly, low enough that he was uncertain that the other could hear him. "Can you groom my back for me? I couldn't finish it and..."

He trailed off, to embarrassed to admit that the whole reason he was even in this mess was because he had stubbornly tried to clean the fur on his own back when it had gotten caught on some brush and the stretching of his already painted muscles proved too much for him.

"Sure," was all Wukong said before sitting down beside the other and quietly getting to work.

They sat silently for a while. Wukong doing his best to run his many fingers through only the glossy tangled fur. The coarser fur would require a comb or brush and Macaque douted that the other wanted to even attempt brushing his fur out in this situation.

And while the deep set ache in his spine didn't vanish, the longer he laid there and felt the other working on his fur the longer he relaxed and felt the surface aches slowly dampen themselves.

“What did Syntax say about the next batch?” Wukong finally spoke up as his fingers worked their way through the knotted fur between Macaque’s second set of shoulder blades. Every graze against the skin beneath the fur felt like a new ache, but the touches we so soft and fleeting that Macaque knew the temporary pain would be worth not having to attempt to groom his own back again. “It’s supposed to last longer, right?”

"He thinks so," Macaque said, voice tight but clearer than he expected it to come out. "I know it will. He's never failed me before."

For better or worse.

"Seems like it," Wukong agreed quickly, apologizing as he pulled a stubborn knot just a bit too hard and earned a pained yelp from the other. "You're putting an awful lot of trust in him... but his serums have been working so far so even if everything is guess work he seems to know what he's doing."

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

The reply came so fast that Macaque knew that it was practiced. Said so clearly that even after all this time he knew that the other spider-monkey mutant was hiding something. His actions never ceased, though. Grooming continuing on as if nothing was said, hundreds of years not being dampened by the addition of size or number of fingers in the slightest.

“You can’t expect me to believe that you went through a transformation more drastic than mine so quickly without anythin-”

“Yes,” Wukong interrupted, voice more form and snappy than he has sounded the entire time he was tending to Macaque’s fur and muscle aches.

“You’ve always been a shit liar, you know. That’s my forte.”

Now the movements slowed, not to a stop but noticeable enough to be felt. Not until he finished working through the fur after another minute or so of silence.

"Only to you," Wukong admitted, running his fingers through the finished patches of fur to catch any missed knots. "Apparently I'm pretty good when it comes to others."

"That's because they haven't known you as long as I have," Macaque said, sitting up against the urges from the other to keep laying down.

And the sight before him, closer and clearer in the light than before, proved his suspicions that he'd had since the other's transformation correct in his mind.

Sun Wukong looked exhausted. Not physically, except for the dark bags under his eyes that Macaque could see forming. But his posture and the dull shine of his eyes gave it away. The way he leaned forward and his eyes were half lidded and the way he smiled in that awkward nervous way that showed far too much teeth.

"You've been treating me differently," Macaque continued as he stretched and the pain was worth the light rush of relief from the way the stretch relieved some pressure on his back. "Since your transformation. It's because you know how I feel now, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop it!" Macaque snapped, startling the other. "You’re only making it worse, pretending it doesn't happen! Have you even gone to Syntax for any treatment?"

In the back of Macaque’s mind he could swear he heard "hypocrite" shouted at him for the pretending bit.

"... no," Wukong admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with two hands. That wasn't from embarrassment or nervousness, that was from pain. Macaque recognized it from so long ago. "He comes to me, though. Practically throws the stuff at me while insulting me for being too stubborn for own good."

"He's right you stubborn ass," Macaque said with a half chuckle, standing with more than a bit of effort. When he stumbled forward he was grateful that Wukong held out a hand to grab his own and didn't catch him, who knows how much that would hurt. It had when he'd caught him before. "The new batch should be ready, actually. We should go see him together."

Macaque smirked up at the other, hoping he was playing his cards right.

"Besides, I know how much you like proving people wrong."

The loud laughter that resounded through their little patch of forest told him he was still good at playing that little game of chance.

"Alright, yeah," Wukong agreed, smile softening as he held out one of his lower arms from Macaque to hold onto as he walked. "I do like proving people wrong. I'm not too stubborn to accept help after everything that's happened."

"Now tell Queenie that next time we see her so she can stop worrying over you so much," Macaque chided with a laugh of his own as they walked the path to home Wukong had built for the spider demons on his island.

As they walked Macaque felt the soft and firm brush of Wukong's tail against his own and he wrapped his around it. Their tailed wrapped together, twining like rope behind them, and they just had to hope that Syntax wouldn't have a rant planned out for the two of them when they arrived.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #hurt comfort #fanfic #prompt fill #sun wukong #money king #six eared macaque #shadowpeach #(vague) #this is the HAPPY fill just wait for the other spider monkie fill #that ones gonna be sad

[nohoney]

Tell Me (When You’re Ready) - 4.2

warnings: 18+, drug use, polyamory, low key manipulation, toxic relationships

summary: 

It was a hidden selfish offer he put out there, hoping on the slightest chance that he can become closer to you by becoming apart of the relationship if Touya approved. So when his offer gets the green light, he can’t help but feel a little bit giddy inside for the opportunity to become even closer to you.

Keigo loves being your friend, he genuinely does, but his desire for you is so strong that friendship can only wall off those feelings for so long.

4.1 ✧ 4.2 ✧ 4.3 ✧ 4.4

Since having met Touya, Keigo understood pretty quickly that his friend was the ‘no strings attached’ kind of guy when it came to girls. Not even a friends with benefits type of deal because hell, Touya didn’t really want friends. He was just a shameless guy who shamelessly used girls. So to learn that he’s chasing after one specific girl, going so far as to ghost half of the chicks he usually fucked, Keigo has to know who you are that’s got his friend entranced so much.

Before meeting you, Keigo had already known what you looked like naked and cock drunk after getting fucked. How fucking pretty you look with cum all over your face and how intoxicatingly cute you sounded as you backed up into Touya’s cock. Touya had no shame about sharing your nudes and the videos he recorded of the two of you, he’d done it plenty of times before. Just with you, instead of deleting them when he got bored they were saved into a folder on his phone.

Keigo just had to ask, “You got a crush on this girl?”

He’s not necessarily surprised that his question isn’t answered, just given a half hearted shrug before the line on the plate was snorted.

You’re definitely a pretty little thing that apparently that gives fantastic head and you’ve got a sweet cunt to match, that’s the impression that Keigo gets just from looking at photos of you. When you’re officially introduced to him, he gets why Touya became enthralled in you pretty quick. There’s an air about you that makes the people around you want to take care of you; it’s not that you’re an innocent virgin or inexperienced little girl that made Touya fall over for you, you’re just the type of girl that needs to be looked over and taken care of. That’s your purpose and the purpose you give to others because god, the award of just your smile and gratitude was just… enchanting.

You’re just begging to be possessed by someone and how fortunate for you that Touya’s the one you decide to give it a chance with.

Keigo had to admit silently to himself that it was a little amusing but also a little sad to watch Touya try to compute being sensitive and considerate to someone else’s feelings. But he cares about Touya so of course he helps him try to navigate the pitfalls of actually being tied down to someone. He hears both sides, the hardheadedness from Touya and the frustrations you bear from it but Keigo is there to help smooth things along.

He knows that he shouldn’t play therapist to you and Touya too often, you guys are adults and need to figure it out on your own, but he likes to see the two of you happy when things are calm for the time being up until another little mishap comes along again.

It’s so quick how it happens, considering that Keigo only met you so recently, but just like Touya he becomes more enamored by you as time passes by. When he’s alone with you, his heart flutters and he takes little moments to be close to you without breaking any suspicion that he wants more from you. More than just wanting you to bounce on his dick the way you do with Touya, he doesn’t want just sex from you, Keigo wants to own a piece of you too.

He thinks about fleeting moments with you, the little things you do with just him that Touya would be unable to do, and loves the sparkle you get in your eye when he does something as simple as get you a cup of coffee.

On the days that he’s not with you or Touya, when he’s busy with his own workload because he likes to keep busy, his breaks are spent just thinking of you. The texts you send back and forth to one another, a meme that’s an inside joke with you, and when he’s alone at night Keigo listens to the audio recordings of you getting fucked that Touya sent to him just the day before.

The few days that he doesn’t think about you at all are when he’s hyper focused on his work, needing Adderall to make sure that he’s ready for his upcoming presentation or upcoming exam that he feels he won���t do very well on. He works hard and focuses on what needs to be done for his courses, and when he’s all finished Keigo rewards himself by either thinking of you or contacting you for a little hangout.

Touya’s making good and sure that you’re bound to him, Keigo admittedly helping him in the process because he doesn’t want to be excluded from you and knowing that Touya won’t cut you off from him. You’ve got a pretty strong attachment to Keigo that actually warms his heart, you’re his little dove and Touya’s pretty doll.

Keigo is pretty sure that Touya is aware of his feelings for you, but he gives him the courtesy of coming clean to his friend. He’s admitting that he likes his friend’s girlfriend as more than just a friend and a sexual object. Touya doesn’t seem to react to his admission, further confirming that he most likely knew all along, but Keigo is surprised by Touya’s confession that he’s in love with you.

The guy that’s still fucks other girls on the side while dealing to them is in love with you.

At least it’s Touya’s version of love.

Keigo can see Touya’s anxiety, how he hides his codependency for you by always trying to ensure you’re right where he wants you and how unhinged he gets when it seems you’re gone too long. Sometimes he really does fear for Touya’s psyche and how fragile he actually is sometimes, such an apathetic guy getting hung up over one girl. He understands though because you’re Touya’s first love and as scared as he is of that feeling, he also doesn’t want to let it go so he’s grooms you to keep you by his side. Overt attention by always wanting to know where you are, verbal seduction and charming you with the cute names he gives you, physical isolation by always wanting to keep you at his apartment, and gift giving in the form of pills and powders that you’re actually craving more of but they keep you balanced, not too little and definitely not too much.

You have such soft boundaries so it was easy to capture you, he knows it’s wrong.

But Keigo can’t say he’ll stop himself or Touya from keeping you to themselves. They both treat you the same way, Keigo’s just a bit on the nicer side and a little more polished with his social skills so he flies a bit under the radar. The two of them guard you away from anything you shouldn’t know, things that you don’t have to know because there’s no reason for you to get involved in the first place. You learned pretty early on to not ask questions, even if the both of them can see that burning curiosity in your eye but you extinguish those feelings and do as you’re told.

You are such a good little bird.

Touya still struggles navigating his relationship and committing himself to you, so Keigo offers himself as a buffer. It was a hidden selfish offer he put out there, hoping on the slightest chance that he can become closer to you by becoming apart of the relationship if Touya approved. So when his offer gets the green light, he can’t help but feel a little bit giddy inside for the opportunity to become even closer to you.

Keigo loves being your friend, he genuinely does, but his desire for you is so strong that friendship can only wall off those feelings for so long.

He wants to care for you, wants to look over you, and wants to keep you happy.

“You’re so good Keigo… I love you so much. I’m so glad that we met Keigo, I’m so happy you’re in my life.” you told him while you’re at the peak of your roll at a house party Touya brought you to. He knows that you only took the tablet to forget about your anger towards your boyfriend but Keigo will gladly take all the affection you give him while you’re doped up on serotonin.

And the way you pulled him in to kiss you?

God, he knew that you were on but you couldn’t have done that with him without at least feeling a little bit something more than just friendship with him.

Now Keigo doesn’t want to shift the blame around… but Touya was the one that almost fucked up the arrangement. Of course you were going to get mad at Touya when you saw that hickey on his neck, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But Keigo is familiar with his friend’s temper and has to talk him down when he insinuates breaking up with you, which is the last thing that either of them wants. “She just misses you, you gotta at least try to meet her in the middle. Are you really okay with her feeling like you’re ignoring her?”

Keigo knows that it’s really serious between the two of you as he commanded you to call him by his name instead of Dabi, both of them looking down on you as Touya thrusts his cock into your little pussy. He remembers your eyes looking back and forth between the two of them, probably still not comprehending what exactly was happening. He heard all of Touya’s words and your little sounds through the haze of his own come down, just enough blood rushing to his dick to get him hard but not enough where he can take up Touya’s offer to fuck you in the moment. He figured it was best though, that it wasn’t the right time for him to fuck your brains out when you just learned the truth of how he really felt about you.

It was a rough start but Keigo got inducted into the relationship although in the process he had accidentally revealed some information to you that Touya wasn’t ready to discuss with you yet. He just hated seeing you so upset over the other girls and when you had depreciated yourself into listing yourself as just one of the whores, he just had to tell you that you were more important to Touya than anything else. You technically weren’t wrong when you deduced that Keigo was being offered into the relationship for Touya’s peace of mind and to ensure you wouldn’t run off to anyone else.

“He feels you only deserved to get fucked by people who love you, those were his words.”

Those words had secured everything into place, even if he was never supposed to say it in the first place.

“Wait, did Touya actually say that he loves me? What kind of love are we talking about?”

Keigo couldn’t say anymore on that, it wasn’t his place to say anything.

“Do you love me Keigo and is that love the same as Touya’s?”

Nope, he accidentally cracked that door open and now you were trying to get a peek inside. And on top of ousting Touya, he also did it to himself as well. Touya was the one who said out loud that he loved you, not him… at least not yet. He definitely feels something more than just a friendly fondness for you, infatuation was probably the right word to describe it but not enough, just saying ‘liking you a lot’ doesn’t cover the foundation of what his feelings for you are. It’s much too abstract for him to label it but he guesses love could be the best word to describe it.

That first time he pushed his cock inside you, he felt like he was about to almost blow his load immediately into you. He just almost couldn’t believe that it was actually happening, he wasn’t fisting his dick in his hand while listening to another audio recording of you sent from Touya or fucking some annoying girl into her bed while wishing it was you; Keigo was actually fucking you himself. He also couldn’t help the slight satisfaction that you were so shy to have him join whereas with Touya you were so eager; you were so cute acting all bashful and so fucking sexy as you lost your mind over his dick.

And when Touya asked if you wanted Keigo to fuck you too and be with the both of them, he came earlier than he would have liked because he got so excited when you said that you wanted the both of them.

She wants me… she wants me!

After that ‘proper threesome’ and spending more time together as more than just friends, Keigo decides that he no longer guesses he loves you; he really does love you.

After months of silently pining, he gets to have you the same way Touya does. He doesn’t mind this whole polyamorous thing going on between the three of them, Keigo’s brought a balance to the relationship that Touya could never bring himself. It’s not to say that things are one hundred percent smooth since Keigo came in, but definitely not as rocky as before when it was just you and Touya. They get the (not so) occasional looks from people as you hold hands with the both of them, move to kiss one of them on the lips before going to the other, and then drop little innuendos that you want to get railed by the both of them.

Touya’s happy and Keigo’s happy.

And what’s most important is that you’re happy and you’re not leaving them.

Touya tends to worry himself into anxiety over that possibility and Keigo not as much, but it does creep on him on occasion.

There was one day Touya brings something new for all three of you to try: ketamine. Touya’s really into opioids and anesthetics so it seemed suitable for him whereas Keigo favors amphetamine and stimulants; one likes to be detached and relaxed versus the other that wants to be alert and energetic. Anesthetics aren’t really his thing but he’s willing to give it a try at least, just like he did with orgies and shrooms. Keigo tried them, thought it was decent and would think about doing it again if there was an opportunity.

So the three of you try it together and wait for it to settle in.

Like Keigo thought would happen, Touya really likes it. He sat on his side of the couch very comfortable and relaxed while you sat by his feet on the floor, looking like you were in a dream and floating in whatever happy sea that the tranquilizer had brought to you. Unfortunately for Keigo, he did not like it at all and he wondered what he did wrong for him to feel fucked up. He didn’t like feeling detached from his body and he felt anxious instead, sitting uncomfortably on his side of the couch and trying to calm himself.

He feels lazy and numb but not in the good way.

At that moment he craved coke more than ever to wake him up, wondering how many lines it would take to pull him out of this sea that he was drowning in. Then he feels a weight on his lap, he opens his bleary eyes and sees you right in front of him looking so concerned for him. “S’okay Keigo… we’re here. Don’t freak out.” you coo to him, dropping your hands on his shoulders and getting comfortable in his lap. Your movements are a bit lazy but he can see you trying your best to be present for him.

“Dove… no, M’fine…” Keigo drawls out and frowns at hearing his own voice.

His eyes gloss over your features and he thinks in that moment that you’re pretty, much too pretty for your own good. There was a guy he saw walking down the street the other day, a very handsome guy and then he’s suddenly pairing that random handsome stranger with you instead. Keigo doesn’t like the image he conjured in his head and he drops his head back against the couch.

Keigo feels one of your hands on the back of his head, carefully cradling his head as you bring it forward. He lolls a little bit and he still feels like he’s out of his own body, images of you with that handsome man still dance in his head and he feels like he’s in that scenario he’s imagining rather than being present with you as you comb your hand through his hair. “Don’ leave songbird… don’ go.”

“I’m here Kei… M’here.” your voice is so soft when you reassure him, though you look unsure yourself if your words were reaching him. “C’mere… let’s hold hands…”

With the best effort your could you settled in between the boys on the couch, leaning more towards Keigo’s side so that you could tend to him and Touya leaning towards you. His hands felt like it was two hundred pounds when you grabbed his, wondering how you got so strong when just yesterday you couldn’t open your water bottle because Touya screwed the lid on too tight. But you hold Keigo’s hand in your lap and Touya puts his hand over yours as well.

“We fucked up… I shoulda’ trip sit for you guys…” Touya says quietly, enjoying the effects of the ketamine but present enough to acknowledge the irresponsibility of the three of you experimenting with something new without someone to watch over you. “No more for the bird boy… he don’t like it.”

That was a huge understatement.

“How do you feel (Name)?”

“Kinda like… I’m drunk but not? It feels good for me but Keigo… I think he mighta’ done a little more than us and thas’ why he’s like this…”

You talk but Keigo still thinks about you and the handsome stranger together, his own anxieties forming in his chest and clawing him from the inside. Like he’s living in that hallucination in his mind, following the imaginary you as a ghost even though you were literally right next to him. He’s unable to freak out properly but he tries to concentrate, hating himself and the passage of time because goddamnit, he wants to be sober.

Much like how Touya swore off acid the first and last time he tried it, Keigo would never consume ketamine again. He probably really did take a little more than he thought he did because you and Touya had a positive experience while he was suffering. He read online later about some other people’s experience and some of them falling into the ‘K-hole’, an experience of extreme dissociation and severe sedation.

“God… never fucking again.”

He’ll stick to cocaine and Adderall, thank you. Neither of those things gave him anxiety or weird  hallucinations about you running off with other people.

You doted on him for a while after that experience, like making his favorite foods and stopping by his lab to drop off coffee to him. He appreciated you going out of your way for him but it wasn’t necessary, you were the one that should be doted on. So with the little favors you did for him, he rewarded you back twice as much.

Of course he knows that your favorite rewards are the ones that leave your legs shaking and cum either oozing out of your cute pussy or painted on your body instead.

He likes working alongside Touya to make you go cock crazy when the three of you are together. It’s a little paradoxical how much they want to protect you but when it comes to sex, they just want to bully and make you cry so much. Your cute little hiccups when you beg that they be nice to you or the tears that gather on the rim of your pretty eyes as they overwhelm you the point of being unable to articulate anything else but their names, calling you a dumb little girl or a cock crazed bitch or a useless cumslut.

So fucking mean… but it feels so fucking good.

“Use me… use me please!” you cry out.

“Such a dumb little whore.” Keigo tuts at you while Touya fetches his belt and restrains your arms through the loops after making sure it’s nice and secure.

They fuck you like crazy, demeaning names coupled with little rewards as you helplessly let yourself be used and overloaded. And as mean as they are, they’re always extra loving afterwards. The first time you experienced a sub drop from them, it didn’t go very smoothly and they had to scramble because they thought the aftercare they provided before was enough. They’re whispering sweet praises and compliments for being such a good girl, more head pets and massages to relax you, squeezing hugs and loving kisses.

“Princess, you are so sweet… such a good princess.”

“Baby bird, our pretty little baby.”

When they’re sure that you’re all taken care of, they let you rest for however long you need to. They quietly leave the bedroom and they sit together, sometimes having a smoke together or making something to eat later on.

Touya returns from the balcony after having a cigarette while Keigo just sat inside and scrolled through his phone. He checked up on you just a few minutes ago, still finding you sound asleep and still leaving you be. Touya plants himself on the opposite end of the couch, exhaling and letting his head fall back against the cushions.

“I love her.” he says out loud.

“I know.”

“Do you think she loves us?”

“I’m pretty sure that with everything we’ve been through, she has to at least feel a little something like that.”

Touya turns his head to look at Keigo and asks, “Do you think she knows I love her?”

Yeah because Keigo is the one that accidentally told you.

He clears his throat and reaches for his glass of water, taking a few sips before setting it back down on the coaster. “Do you think you’re ready to tell her?”

“I’ve told her I loved her… just never to her face.”

Keigo didn’t exactly know what he meant saying that but he put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and told him, “Take the time you need man, I’m sure (Name) will be really happy when you decide to tell her.”

Keigo says that but he actually hopes that Touya will confess himself to you soon so that he can say it too. He wants to tell you that he loves you too, but he’s very aware that you probably want to reciprocate an ‘I love you’ to Touya first rather than him. After all, it was Touya that you got together with first so it seemed natural that you would trade those words with him before telling Keigo.

He can see that sparkle in your eye when you look at either of them, the way you look so fucking soft at them that he just wants to lay in bed naked with you and just hold you until the universe disintegrates. You put so much trust in them and you don’t even realize how much power you hold over them. They love you but the questions begs is if you love them back in the same way they do.

You must be, you wouldn’t be doing this with them if you didn’t at all.

It’s always hard to be the first one to put those words out there and honestly if Touya wasn’t in the picture, Keigo would have said them by now.

Don’t get him wrong, Keigo does love this three way relationship he has with you and Touya but sometimes there’s that small selfish part of him that imagines that it was just you and him. Touya got to date you by himself for a few months, just the two of you before Keigo was added in and Keigo knows that he’ll never have the chance to monogamously date you because he knows that you and Touya won’t let each other go. You’ve been reeled in, going against your intuition to leave him because you’ve made yourself to believe the infatuation and obsession he has over you is genuine love despite still fucking other girls and struggling internally with his own commitment to you.

But is Keigo’s love any different from Touya’s? It honestly isn’t, he can’t fool himself into thinking that he loves you any different than Touya; everything his friend does, Keigo would do the same, just the only difference being that if you told him to stop seeing other girls, Keigo would in a heartbeat. They obsess over you with the same intensity, dote on you the same, coddle the hell out of you and spoil you so much.

Keigo secretly loves when you go to him when Touya leaves to sell to the whores. He hates seeing you upset over Touya but he loves that you go to him to take your mind off of it. In those times he lies to himself and believes that you’re just dating him and him alone, that there’s no other person you’re in love with and all your devotion belongs to him. Keigo knows that Touya still struggles with his commitment to you, that as much as he loves you there’s also a voice that whispers in his head to sabotage things with you by still returning to the whores. And Keigo is there to tell his friend that one day he’ll stop seeing those other girls, that one day Touya will imagine his world without you if he continued to do what he does and that it’ll scare him so much that it really will just be you and only you.

Keigo hopes that when that day comes that he’ll still be around as well, that you’re feelings for him will be just as strong as you feel for Touya and you’ll want him to stay just as bad.

He’s apart of this too, he’s in love with you too.

When you’re in his bed with your knees pressed to your chest and your hands weakly holding onto the headboard he asks you, “Am I your boyfriend?”

“Yeah… Yes, you’re my boyfriend!” you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

His golden eyes are intense on you as he pulls those beautiful sounds from you, like he’s a conductor and you’re his choir. He twirls his hip a certain way and you cry out for him, he presses his thumb to your clit and you choke out a curse, he slaps one of your tits and you beg for Keigo to be a little more gentle. You were being such a coy little brat earlier, not following instructions when he told you to ride his cock the way he wanted you to, instead of getting him off you were using him for your own pleasures. And he would have spoiled you with all the orgasms you wanted had you not been such a cheeky little thing and had the audacity to call him your dildo as you rode him to your pleasure.

Keigo understands why Touya likes it so much when you’re a brat, you’ve got that crazed look in your eye as you anticipate punishment from either of them. That you know you’re being a little shit by acting defiant just so that they can assume control over you and fucking show that you’re not the boss around here, they are. They control whether or not you get to get off and if you do, it’s going to be by their rules and not yours.

Be a little brat, be a little whore… just keep on being ours…

“Who’s pussy is this little dove? Who does your pussy belong to?” Keigo grunts the questions as he drives his hips forward into your cunt. The bed creaks under the weight of his movements but your sounds are louder, garbled moans and cute hiccups as you try to find in your scrambled, fucked up brain the answer he wants to hear. He holds the back of your knees, skin slapping loudly against one another every time he pushes his length into you. “I asked you a question dove.”

“It’s yours Keigo! This pussy belongs to you!” you sob out as your hands lose grip on the headboard and fall limply above your head.

You’re such a radiating vision in that moment that Keigo’s heart jumps up into his throat, caught off guard by how much he’s enraptured by you. He has plenty of photos and videos of you in his phone, thousands of memories that play through in his head, and yet his heart still swells every time he sees how beautiful you are. Whether your hair is tied up or worn down, with or without makeup, wearing big sweats or pretty dresses, when you’ve got the happiest grin on your face or heartbreaking tears fall from your eyes, whether you’re just being yourself or navigating in the throes of something difficult for you, he always thinks you’re beautiful.

Chest heaving and broken sobs spill out of your pretty lips, you cum unexpectedly on his cock and he wonders himself what triggered you because he’s pretty certain that he didn’t do anything in particular. So he inspects you and sees how flustered you are, glassy eyes that look away in embarrassment, the cute way you use one hand to cover the lower half of your face and the other covering your breasts… you’re acting shy all of a sudden.

How adorable… but for what reason?

Keigo gently takes your hands and pins them down onto the bed, his grip firm to ensure you won’t go anywhere but not too tight. You try to turn your head away but he follows, capturing you in a kiss and cherishing how you moan against his mouth. Your pussy clenches around him and he pulls back, a line of drool connecting your lips together. “Baby bird? Are you okay?”

You nod your head and look up at him through your lashes, you’re so demure when not too long ago you were acting like a little brat.

Something changed but Keigo doesn’t know what.

“Kei… fuck me please.”

So he does, releasing your wrists and bracing one arm by your head while the other grabs the headboard. Keigo’s body shivers slightly as your arms go up and he feels your hands lay flat on the upper of his back, the tips of your fingers just pressing slightly down on muscles that almost makes him like jelly. His weak spot was right there and you knew what you were doing when you touched him there.

He thinks about the conversation you had with him and Touya, the one where you talked about if they both had super powers. It intrigued him when you told him that you could imagine him having wings as his power, it inspired him a little to consider getting wings tattooed on his back. You always admired Touya’s own minimal tattoos and he can imagine your awe if he were to get his own ink designed into his body as well.

Keigo fucks you roughly enough where you head begins to bounce against the headboard but you’re uncaring since it doesn’t hurt too much. You might get a little headache later on but he’ll be there to nurse your little head.

“Touch yourself baby bird, play with yourself…”

When you play with your clit, your pussy quivers around his cock and it’s only a few more pumps until the both of you finish together. He presses his face into the crook of your neck and groans lowly, the timber of his voice making you shudder beneath him. Quiet panting as the two of you catch your breath, Keigo reaching blindly for the shirt he tossed off earlier so that he could use it as a cum rag. He pulls out quickly and you whimper, letting his cum ooze out of your little pussy.

“Make sure to pee baby bird.” he reminds you.

“Yes Keigo…”

You wash up in his bathroom, your favorite shampoo and conditioner set along with your body wash sit in his little shower caddy that hangs from the shower head. Music plays from your phone as you clean up while Keigo is in his kitchen and setting up some snacks to eat for when you come out. Touya is going to return soon, making a delivery in downtown and meeting up with Shigaraki in the meantime.

He should be here any minute.

Keigo hears his hair dryer being used, louder than the music playing from your phone from where he stands. You told him how you want to style his hair differently the next time there’s a date night and he looks forward to it.

Emerging from the shower refreshed and clean, you come out wearing a pair of comfy sweats and a little tank top that hangs a little low and shows off your cleavage. You’re not trying to be sexy, it’s just comfortable loungewear for you. Refreshed from cleaning up, you help Keigo put the snacks on the coffee table as well as pour a cup of coffee for Touya when he arrives. Feeding each other chips and popcorn, Keigo cuddles you as the two of you watch a comedy together.

The lock to his door turns and Touya enters, taking off his jacket and leaving his boots by the front door. He goes straight to you, a sign that he hadn’t sold to one of his whores because if he did, he would have just gone straight to the restroom to wash off whatever perfume the bitch was wearing. You’re happy to see him, pecking him on the lips and letting him lay his head down in his lap while Keigo has his arm around your shoulder.

It feels nice, just the three of you.

Touya will talk to Keigo later about what happened with Shigaraki, if there is anything at all to say. But for now, he enjoys the hand you have on his knee while your other one massages Touya’s scalp.

At some point Touya turns his head, his nose pretty close to your crotch and he takes a small sniff. “I can smell Keigo’s cum in you doll. You sitting here still stuffed with cum?”

You’re embarrassed and try to push Touya’s head away. “I-I swear that I washed most of it out while I was in the shower! I just didn’t want to have to change my panties twice in a day if I kept it in me and-”

Touya chuckles and taps his finger on the tip of your nose. “I’m just kidding princess but now I know that you were being a little whore again while I was away.” It’s said in jest and it makes Keigo laugh as well as you squawk at him, pushing at Touya’s head and demand that he take his ass to the shower because you claim that he stinks. Keigo continues to snicker as Touya does as he’s told, knocking his head slightly on the way before shutting the bathroom door.

You take the bowl of chips that’s almost empty and head to the kitchen for a refill, mumbling about how dirty Touya was.

Keigo follows you, hearing the shower running inside the bathroom and knowing that he has to say this quickly since Touya doesn’t take very long showers. So he puts an arm around your waist and pulls you to him, softly calling your name to get your attention. You look up at him and wonder what he wants to say, noticing the change of tone in his voice.

Touya can take the time he needs for his own confession, Keigo wants to let you know now.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise and your mouth drops a little, clearly not anticipating that he would say such a thing. But then a happy smile comes onto your face and Keigo is relieved to see a positive reaction, his heart would have been broken if you had given him anything else. He can see that you’re trying to say it back but you hesitate as your eyes shift to the bathroom door and he already knows why; you want to tell Touya you love him first before saying it to Keigo.

It’s okay, you’re worth the wait.

“You don’t have to say it back right now, I just wanted to let you know dove.”

Because now that he thinks about it, that reaction you had earlier in his bed, he could see that shift when he replays it in his head. You must have realized it then with his cock buried in you that you were in love with him too, not just with Touya. He’s buried deep in your heart now and he’s not as fearful that you’ll let him go and choose him over Touya, he needs to be in this relationship in order for you and Touya to thrive.

You’ll choose them both because you know that you need both him and Touya.

Even if sometimes he still imagines that it was just you and him, Keigo knows that it’s better that he share you with Touya than not have you at all.

“Will you say it again Keigo?” you ask quietly, your eyes shining with a new light that makes Keigo’s heart swell. He knows you love him back and he’ll patiently for you to return those words back to him when you’re ready, he looks forward to it. He leans in close to your ear, whispering it so smoothly as your whole body shudders in pleasure.

“I love you.”

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #takami x reader #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #hawks smut #bnha x reader #bnha #tw drugs #tw toxic relationship #us series

[exhaustedfander]

Doom, Gloom and a Runaway Groom!

a03 link

word count: 3,669

Remus had seemed nervous. Roman has known his brother long enough to know when he’s a little too in his head, and the day of his wedding is certainly no exception. Roman had been expecting that; I mean, who isn’t nervous their wedding day? But this, this exceeds all of his expectations.

Remus is nowhere to be seen.

In all honesty, Roman was a little surprised when Remus had asked him to be his best man. I mean, yes, they’re brothers, but they’re also brothers who bicker nonstop and haven’t always had the best relationship. It’s gotten better in recent years, but still…

“You know me about as well as anyone,” Remus had said simply, “And I’m fairly certain you’re the only person who’ll be able to handle me when I turn into a total bridezilla!”

Remus wasn’t kidding, either. He gets worked up over the littlest things, sometimes to the point of tears, oddly enough. His patience is even more at its limit than usual and honestly, Roman doesn’t know how Logan is managing through it all. Roman loves his brother, despite all of their bickering and the fact that Remus once switched out his shampoo with mayonnaise, or all of the horrid names Remus has called him in the past, but he’s a hell of a lot to deal with sometimes.

Even so, Logan has seemed as resolute as ever to make the process of preparing for their wedding as seamless and on-track as possible. It’s still strange sometimes, seeing Logan so head-over-heels in love with Remus of all people. Listen, Roman doesn’t mean to sound harsh, but Logan can do better. He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined the two of them as a couple, and yet here they are, deliriously and obnoxiously happy. And really, Roman is thrilled for them. He remembers fondly when Remus had called him at nearly four in the morning, asking: “Roman how did you propose to Virgil? I need to know all of the things to avoid when I ask Logan to marry me.”

Okay, maybe Roman remembers the moment with more annoyance than anything else, but still with some fondness nonetheless.

Roman’s also happy that this whole wedding thing is about to be over. He’d foolishly offered Logan to help plan the wedding, knowing Remus in charge of such things was not the most intelligent idea. But it seems he’d forgotten all of the intricate details that go into pulling off such an affair, because yeesh, it’s a lot to wrap your head around. But finally, the whole thing is going to be over and everyone can get on with their lives.

Except Remus is missing!

Roman noticed that he’d seemed a little squeamish this morning, but he’d chalked it up to wedding-day-jitters. I mean, he’d been acting the very same way when he was going to marry Virgil. He listed all of the things that could go wrong and was afraid that Virgil might decide he didn’t want to get married in the end, or any other disastrous scenario. Though come to think of it, he’d said a lot less obstinacies. But still, surely Remus was just a little nervous and would get over it.

Well, apparently not!

“Remus? Remus, where the fuck are you?” Roman hissed as he combed through the rooms of the hotel, searching his and Virgil’s, Remus’s and Logan’s room, as well as Patton and Janus’s. “Come out come out wherever you are, you little shit! If you don’t show up to your own wedding I’m going to kill you – or worse, Logan’s going to kill you.”

“Why am I going to kill Remus?” Roman hit his head on the bottom of the bed he’d stuck himself under, foolishly hoping Remus might be underneath.

“Uh – no reason! No reason at all, everything’s fine! Don’t even worry about it!” Roman says far too quickly, about as suspicious as one could seem.

Logan crosses his arms over his chest, a stone-cold expression settling over his face.

“Roman.” Roman’s bound to crack under the slightest bit of pressure, and sure enough, he does.

“Okay – okay. Please don’t freak out!” “When have I ever been known to ‘freak out’?”

“I can’t find your fiancé anywhere. He’s kind of, uh, lost?” For someone who claims he’s not going to freak out, Logan looks about three seconds from losing it.

“You’re telling me that Remus, who I specifically told you to pay close attention to because he seemed a little off yesterday, is nowhere to be found?” Roman gulps.

“Uh…maybe?”

“Maybe?!” Logan motions to run a hand through his hair before remembering it’s already been styled, and he highly doubts there will be time to fix it, “Roman, the wedding is starting in an hour. God damn it, I told him that if he was feeling anxious he should talk to me! You said you would watch him!” “I – I was! I just lost sight of him for a minute and…” Roman trails off, seeing the look of growing terror etching itself into Logan’s face. “But don’t worry! We’re going to find him! I absolutely refuse to believe he wouldn’t go through with this after all of this planning and time –,” Logan looks like he’s going to be sick, “And also because he loves you! Loves you so, so much! Don’t you worry, Microsoft Nerd, I’m going to fix this!” Logan pinches his temple and sighs deeply before taking out his cell-phone.

“I’m going to call him. If he knows what’s good for him,” Roman fails to miss the snarl to his friend’s voice, “he’ll pick up.”

Evidently, Remus doesn’t know what’s good for him because there’s no answer. Logan throws his head back, letting out a dramatic: “FUCK!” that’s incredibly unlike him before his eyes meet Roman’s again, determined.

“Okay. This is fine. Not optimal, but manageable. Where was the last place that you saw him?”

“I was fixing his makeup in Virgil and I’s room about a half an hour ago or so.” Logan glowered at him.

“And tell me, how did you get distracted?” Roman opens his mouth. “And if you tell me it had anything to do with your husband, I am going to become very, very upset.” Roman closes his mouth.

“What’s most important is that we find Remus,” Roman says, hoping the changing of subject will distract Logan from his correct suspicions. Logan huffs out a sound of exasperation.

“Fine. Let’s spit up, we’ll cover more ground that way.” “Should I get Virgil to help? Or Pat and Jan?” “No,” Logan says a touch to quickly, earning a look of concern from Roman. He clears his throat. “I don’t need anyone else worrying about Remus’s warbots, it will only cause more trouble.” Roman shrugs.

“Fair enough. But, really, I’m sure Virgil would be happy to help.” Logan grits his teeth.

“I think Virgil has helped quite enough today,” Logan fails to miss the way Roman’s Adam’s apple bobs with a nervous swallow, “Of all of the times to become consumed with lust…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We just lost track of time – and time, is what’s important here, right? Let’s go find my shit-head brother. I’ll go this way,” Roman points vaguely left, “You go that way,” Roman points right.

“Fine,” Logan says through a sigh, “Call me immediately if you see him. And, for the love of god, please be patient with him. I can’t even imagine what he’s thinking presently …” Logan trails off, deciding not to continue nor allow Roman to respond before walking out of Roman’s hotel room and wandering down the hall.

He sincerely hopes he doesn’t run into anyone wondering why one of the grooms is wandering the hotel looking like he’s trying to find a lost, frightened animal. To some extent, he supposes he is.

Mentally, Logan’s cursing himself for not checking on Remus more diligently last night. He had seemed gnawed away by anxiety, but foolishly, Logan had chalked it up to mere nerves. After all, he was rather nervous himself. Declaring one’s undying love for another in front of friends and family is a decidedly nerve-racking affair.

Logan doesn’t doubt Remus’s love. In the four years they’ve been together, he almost never has. Remus has his moments – that is to say, many moments – of crudeness and distasteful behavior, but that doesn’t negate the fact that Logan couldn’t miss the fondness in Remus’s eyes every time he catches his gaze if he wanted to. Before Remus, Logan had highly doubted he would ever find a long-term romantic companion. He’d been thoroughly that perhaps he simply wasn’t meant for such things.

And then he’d met Remus, a horror novelist and immediately flirtatious man. He’d met him through Roman, who’d been more than a little apprehensive to introduce them. It was odd they hadn’t met prior, considering their being twins, but Remus quickly realized how different the two brothers were, and perhaps the assumption that Logan would want nothing to do with Remus. That couldn’t be the furthest from the truth.

Logan didn’t always like to admit it, but he was swept off his feet immediately. Remus’s charms, though unorthodox – he’d muttered facts about the best way to kill a man will maintaining a semblance of innocence between kisses – were incredibly affective. For the first time in so long, Remus had someone who could keep up with his conversations, switching effortlessly from topic to topic. Remus was endlessly fascinated with the macabre and strange, something that Logan, a scientist, could certainly appreciate. Remus loved to discover how things worked, more than happy to dissemble things in the process and he had a curiously for the world that Logan couldn’t help but admire. He still can’t help but admire most things about Remus.

Logan never expected to be wooed by a man like Remus, but yet here he is, set to marry him in less than an hour. He’d been the one to propose, the gesture much clumsier than he liked to think back on. He’d dropped the ring-box, twice, and yet Remus’s response was passionate and giddy as though he’d done a stellar job.

Logan loves Remus fiercely and he knows his fiancé loves him just the same…so why has he disappeared?

He rounds a corner, thankful that most of the guests are probably bustling around the seating area, otherwise he’d be dealing with an even bigger mess. Sure, a search-party might be of use, but the embarrassment that it would surely bring him, and his fiancé was a much less appealing option than finding him himself.

Logan finds himself combing the halls of the hotel, finding nothing, before walking out into the garden. It’s a lovely, sprawling green area – and he’s lucky that it’s on the opposite end of where the wedding is being held, in the front of the hotel. He’s going to find him, and they’ll be married, and then everything will be fine. That’s what Logan’s telling himself, but it can’t still the thunderous beating of his heart. He finds himself beginning to give into hopelessness before hearing a sound that makes him stiffen where he stands: a sniffle.

Logan treds lightly, mindful of the leaves crunching underfoot before finding Remus’s leaning against a bush, holding his knees to his chest and trembling some few feet away. Quickly, Logan sends a quick text, “Found him”, to Roman, before approaching cautiously.

“Remus?”

A shiver runs through Remus’s body as he scrambles to face Logan, his eyes blown-wide and bloodshot. His makeup is smudged against his cheeks, and he looks a few seconds from collapsing altogether. Oh dear.

“L-Logan,” Remus stutters out weakly. Logan kneels at his side, keen not to touch Remus right away. His mind is already scrambling for something to say, to soothe him.

“Remus, I’ve been terribly worried.” Perhaps it’s not the best start, but apparently, it’s all he’s got at the moment. “You don’t…you’re gonna…” Remus trails off, sniffling.

“I’m going to, what?” Remus hides his face in his hand.

“You’re not gonna want me. We’re – we’re gonna get up there, and you’re not gonna want to in the end. Or, or people are going to laugh, ‘n say I’m no good for you.” For someone who was sure for so long that he lacked a heart, Logan’s sure he can feel it breaking. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out, his fingers brushing lightly against Remus’s shoulder. Logan expects him to push away, but he doesn’t. He just keeps crying.

Logan’s never so much as considered the fact that Remus would believe such a thing. It’s no secret that, much like his brother, Remus has his own issues with self-worth, but this is so much further than Logan’s allowed his mind to reach. He knows it’s the deadly cocktail of wedding jitters and insecurity that’s lead his fiancé to such a conclusion, but it fails to take away from the pain that his words illicit. Remus presently believes, with some level of sincerity, that Logan isn’t absolutely over-the-moon in love with him. That has to be a crime, right?

“Remus,” Logan’s voice is even and slow, trembling only slightly, “I owe you the sincerest apology if you believe I would ever leave you. Darling, I love you. I love you more than I was aware I was capable of loving another person. Of course, you’re good for me. And the people who are with us today are our friends and family. No one is going to laugh, I promise.” Remus’s breath stutters, wheezy and scared.

“But – but you can’t promise all that. What if they decide I don’t deserve you? What if – if you decide I don’t deserve you?” The last sentence cuts through Logan like a rusty blade, agonizing, slow torture. Logan tightens his pressure on Remus’s shoulder, only slightly.

“I will not make such a decision, because that’s entirely untrue. You are as deserving of me as I am of you, which is to say we deserve each other completely and wholly.”

“But – but I’m –.”

“Do you not wish for us to be married?”

Their eyes meet again, the look in Remus’s panic-stricken.

“Whu-what?”

“I said: do you not wish to be married?” Logan knows the answer. Not even a fraction of him doubts that he knows the answer; it’s Remus that concerns him.

“I…of course not!” Logan raises an eyebrow. “I mean – I want to marry you. Of course I want to marry you. I love you, with all of my f-fucking heart. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and…” Remus trails off, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Remus’s suit is somehow only somewhat crumpled. His hair is a tad ruffled, but nothing too bad. The makeup is smudged, but Logan doesn’t believe that will take very long to reapply, if they hurry. More than anything, it’s sad to see him like this. It’s so unlike the man he’s fallen in love with. Remus is always so big and loud, larger than life and not taking shit from anyone. He’s flamboyant and crass and so much all the time, so much more than Logan ever thought he’d be able to handle, but even so he does. He does more than handle Remus, he trusts him, he revels in his company, he loves him.

Right now, though, Remus seems like none of those things. He’s a man crying in a garden, terrified out of his mind. Logan wants nothing more than to take that fear away from him, to see his love light up again.

“And I’m scared,” Remus finishes finally, “’M scared of all of those things I said. Fuck, Lo, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”

Logan finds himself engulfed in Remus’s embrace, warm and tight and trembling. Logan’s rubbing his back, slow circles he hopes are doing something to soothe Remus’s nerves. He’s crouched in the dirt, holding tight to his crying fiancé. Not exactly what he expected his wedding day to look like, but hey, Logan’s doing what he can to roll with the punches. He’s learned a lot of that from Remus, how to keep going when life throws you a fast one.

“It’s okay, love,” he says softly, “It’s perfectly alright that you’re afraid. But as I said, I promise, everything is going to be alright. I assure you, I want you by my side always.” “Even – even when I’m being an idiot?” Remus asks through a snuffle. Logan laughs lightly, feeling the tension beginning to disperse.

“Always, my dear.”

Remus pulls out of his grasp before cupping Logan’s cheeks and kissing him a little too hard, the embrace all teeth and tongue, but Logan can still feel the tremor of his hands. He’s shaken, but he’s going to be fine. He’s okay.

“Oh, shit!” Remus curses loudly, the entirety of the situation finally dawning, “We’re about to get fuckin’ married!” Remus whips out his cellphone, letting out another string of expiative. “I’m – oh my god, I didn’t even realize the time. Shit. I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry! I don’t know where my head is and I’m such a mess. I’m so –.”

“Hey,” Logan’s voice is grounding, snapping Remus out of whatever rant he was about to launch himself into, “It’s alright. They can’t exactly start the wedding without us, now can they?” Remus’s frantic, worried expression melts into something closer to relief.

“Shit, baby, I’m rubbing off on you too much, aren’t I?” Remus says through a watery laugh, referencing Logan’s usual insistence on being punctual.

“Perhaps,” Logan says, standing up and offering Remus a hand, “I feel I have to check: are you still interested on becoming my husband?”

Remus grips his hand tightly.

“Of course, yeah. I’m just…” Remus swallows the building lump in his throat, “…what if I fuck it up?” Logan helps him to his feet, watching as Remus brushes the dirt off his pants. “You aren’t going to “fuck” anything up, love. Fear is not equal to being inadequate in any sense. I’ll have you know…I’m afraid, myself.” Remus face shines with an incredulous look.

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s perfectly reasonable to be a little nervous on your wedding day. It’s quite the common thing, you know.” Remus’s grip on Logan’s hand tightens as he takes a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay, I’m good.” Logan gives him a careful look.

“Are you sure? If you need another minute…” Remus quirks an eyebrow.

“Do we have another minute to spare?” Logan steels a glance at the time. Shit.

“No…not really.” Remus’s face is graced with a smile so wide and bright Logan knows that his Remus, larger than life, bolder than anyone he’s ever met, is back.

“Then let’s get going!”

And they do. They run through the garden and back into the hotel room. Hastily, Remus’s smudgy makeup is wiped off and reapplied. His hair is combed to a passable degree. A few anxious, excited kisses that they really don’t have the time for are shared.

Guests look utterly baffled to find the grooms walking to their wedding hand in hand, after all, it goes against so much stupid tradition. Not to mention they're seven minutes late. Even so, Logan catches the relief on Roman’s face as well as Virgil mouthing a quick “sorry.” He fails to elaborate past that, doesn’t need to.

Remus is walked down the aisle by Roman. Logan watches as Remus walks to the sound of the wedding march, his eyes already misting. It’s preposterous, isn’t it? Logan’s already seen him today, he’d known what he looked like in his suite. But if Logan’s learned anything in his time with Remus, it’s that emotions rarely have much logic behind them.

He was just scrambling to find Remus, and now here they are, face to face and crying like children. Logan almost never sheds a tear, but this is different entirely. It feels like a facet has been twisted that he can’t manage to shut off. He was sure that he was going to be more composed than this, but he isn’t at all.

He worries, distantly, for Remus as things proceed and their vows are read. He worries he’s going to become consumed with fear again and crumple right in front of all of their friends and family. Logan wouldn’t fault him or be upset, just worried. It doesn’t happen, though. Remus simply trembles and cries through his vows, words Logan knows to be true with all his heart, and then Logan does the same.

And then those words are said: “I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the groom.” Logan’s brain has been filled with so much Television static, standing here, Remus’s hands clasped in his as they promise their lives to one another. But then, abruptly, everything is clear. Remus’s lips are on his, hands tangled in his hair. Surely the kiss is far too amorous to be considered decent, but neither of them seem to care much.

“I love you Logan Knightly,” Remus breaths against his lips as he pulls away just slightly. The cheers and clapping of their friends and family are ringing in his ears, “I love you.”

It dawns on him. Yes, he’s Logan Knightly now. He took the name with pride. He has a husband – Remus is his husband.

“I love you too,” he manages to avoid kissing Remus again long enough to say, “Madly. I love you madly,” before their lips are connected again.

The anxiety of their moment together prior has not entirely dissipated. It’s lessoned considerably, though. Logan knows Remus is still worried, still wonders if someday Logan might decide he doesn’t want him anymore. Nothing like that will ever happen, and it’s still mixed with the jitters of the day, but it’s still a concern. One that Logan’s determined to convince Remus is ludicrous, for the rest of his life, if he has to.

They love one another and for Logan, that’s enough.

=+=

#intrulogical #Romantic intrulogical #human au #intrulogical wedding #sanders sides #sanders sides oneshot #sanders sides wedding #hurt/comfort #angst #angst/fluff #fluff #Remus sanders #Logan Sanders #sammy writes #exhaustedfander writes #exhaustedfander

[of-tarnished-metal]

MOM [TEXT:] Hi honey, can I see you in my office? We need to have a little talk. 

A little talk.-- But that can mean so many things! The redhead’s fingers clenched tighter around his Pokegear as he straight up panicked over those words.

Oh crap, oh no... Silver’s eyes were darting wildly as if the walls were closing in on him. A hard lump jumped from the pits of his stomach, to the middle of his throat, proving it hard to feel the sense of breathing well at all. This was it for him, he was gonna get swallowed up whole by a monster and drop dead there on the floor. 

In reality though he was just sitting on his bed, dumbfounded, guilty, nervous-- all the things the redhead would scowl at anyone over if they saw it for themselves in person. But not here--

It really was the uncanny powers of Mom that could strike the fear into Silver’s very soul, wasn’t it? He hates this. 

---

But at the same time, every minute spent staring at his phone was a second too long for Ariana. 

By now she had already groomed the office back into place after her dealings with Fred. The lady taps her nails a bit on the desk as she waits impatiently for her son to walk in through the doors. 

The monitor no longer displayed the horrific scenes of her son being pinned to the floor by that foolish Agent. Cherry red lips snarled a bit to herself at the thought, how dare someone put their hands on the boy like that! Moron, if he doesn’t make it out of the basement alive, he got what was coming to him in the end.--  

Now her gaze diverted over to the picture frame beside the screen instead, and just like magic her features began to soften. They were pictures of Silver in a few different stages of his life by a certain order. One of when he was a little baby, another when he was a small child, and now an older boy who is much grumpier looking than the last two...But still cute, in his mother’s eyes.~

SILVER [TEXT:] Ok. 

With her mind drifting off fondly to the days of yesteryear, the sudden vibration by her elbow caused the Executive to jerk her chin off her resting hand. Ah, good... the phone is put back down as she waits. 

Eventually it’s the footsteps that tip her off to his approach first before the door is lightly knocked on. Silver has a very specific sound to Ariana’s ears that’s been well recognized since he first learned to walk. 

“Yes baby, come in,” already the teen feels his skin crawl as he takes cautious and deliberate movements to curl his fingers around the edge of the door, peeking in first. 

“Come in.” 

Silver wanted to wince, hard, but kept himself in check the best he could as the door was left to swing open-- slooowly. The creaks and whines it made only highlighted his own sense of dread within.

It was that...thing that struck fear in the hearts of all who heard the lady open with her greetings sometimes. The Tone. 

The back of Ariana’s chair was bumped into quite hard from Arbok, her snake had long since coiled back up for a few hours after being denied a little blonde snack. Its tongue flicked rapidly as Silver shuffled in an akward gait to sit in the chair in front of the Executive’s desk. 

Same spot, same spot where that other human sat before. The Cobra Pokemon unwound itself, slinking his way over to meet the redhead in the hotseat. 

Silver turned his head sharply away when he could feel the breath of the large snake’s huffing against a cheek. Ugh...this Pokemon wasn’t always the boy’s favorite that Mom owned, but he’d put up with it anyway. Soon his face was brushed by the very tips of the serpent’s tongue. The boy. This is just the boy. 

Maybe it’s a sign of affection for all he knew, he never will, but Silver wasn’t appreciative of Arbok trying to rest his chin on the top of his head at all. 

“Alright, alright....” Ariana waved her hand at the Pokemon to ‘shoo’ over the muffled sounds of her protesting son, this wasn’t the time and place for that right now. 

He wished he could feel the weight and pressure lift off of him once Arbok moved away, but no. Nervously his eyes flitted up to meet Ariana’s now, his suspicions confirmed of something even worse than The Tone-- The Look. 

“So, baby...” she started with a quicker moves than Silver could open his mouth. “It’s been brought to my attention a few different things in the past few days.--”  The teen almost shifted forward in his seat in a tense way, suddenly urged to speak his piece, but--

“Ah-ah, don’t.” 

...He slowly resigns to presssing his back into the chair. 

“I’m not happy,” well that was very obvious to him by now, and Silver felt compelled to avert his gaze while she just ampilfies her own. Whatever she had to say would be more than enough, please for the love of Arceus don’t look her in the eyes when she’s angry.

“Because first of all, it would have been very helpful to know there was someone tearing holes in the fabric of space and visiting your room, yes?” 

“......Yes.”, the boy shifts a bit nervously in his seat.

“So, why didn’t you?”  “Didn’t think it was a big deal, that’s all...” he mumbles like there’s marbles in his mouth, soured, unwilling to admit his shortcomings just above anything of a whisper. 

“Not a big deal, or...?” “--I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” 

There we go. “Yes...I can understand where it would be hard for the others to believe.” Ariana’s eyes narrow more. “But you should have told me, your mother.”

“.......” Another shift in the chair as he can just hear the growl in her voice. 

“We didn’t need to go through that fiasco with the lockdown the other day if you had just told someone beforehand! And don’t tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve ever met this boy, the footage clearly tells a different story.” 

Almost it was like something primal clicked in the redheads brain, his mother’s rising anger only starts to fuel Silver’s own. “But I did tell people! I told them in the chatroom--!” 

“The chatroom, yes, you did. In a not-so-well mannered way, in fact.” 

Impatiently she taps a nail on the surface of the desk even more, for as much as she loves her boy no matter what-- she’s tired. The Executive is not willing to bend and play the runaround, even with him after all she’s had to do today, her aim is for the scruff. Quickly.

“Those same comments warranted Fred to come after you.”

Silvers hands clenched tighter around the arms of the chair, oh shit she knows!?

Maybe the startled look he has gives Ariana just the slightest bit of amusement, trapped.~ But as quickly as it comes, it goes, and falls away into a much darker mood. “Though believe me when I say I wasn’t happy with him either...” 

A small hum. “But that’s alright, I took care of that too already.” 

There’s a sudden flash of horror in the boys grey eyes then while staring squarely, but almost pitifully helpless into her red ones. Took care of...?

“Wh-what happened to Fred?” 

Mom doesn’t answer, which in a lot of ways makes it so much worse. He’s very aware of what that means, she....she doesn’t need to explain it. Though that’s when a very strange and dissociative feeling crept up into his very soul.

Sure Fred was annoying, but...he didn’t wanna think the guy went out like that because of-- him.

“Which is why I think I have to punish you for your behavior as well.” 

A cold chill crept down the boys arms and into his fingertips, but as tense as he was, it didn’t stop Silver from feeling his shoulders start to drop in a limp and defeated way. There was no getting out of this, and he didn’t need a snake to coil him up in that very same spot where the Agent was before to know that. 

“You’re grounded.”

The boy blinked rapidly a few times in his seat as he felt like a puddle that was oozing to the floor. The verdict was like a cold slap to the face which shocked him out the stupor. And, maybe in some dumb and selfish way that felt like a fate worse than death itself.

“Which means no internet, no video games, no phone, when I get up in the morning, you get up in the morning, when I go to work, you’re coming with me.” 

“.........” 

“But when you’re in here your idle hands will be doing work that I give you. Not handhelds, not guitar. Just books and homework until further notice. Do you understand Silver?” 

“............Yes.” 

“Good.” 

The Executive leans back in her own chair. Still annoyed, but at least growing more satisfied with his complacency. “Your punishment starts tomorrow. “

“Okay....” Silver’s voice was very soft now, fallen low much in the level of shock Ariana expected him to be. 

“You can go back to your room now, I’ll see you by dinnertime.” 

Numbly, the redhead pushes himself out of the chair after Mom dismisses him, dumbfounded, guilty-- confused. He barely feels the metallic touch of the doorhandle once he turns it and quietly leaves. 

...Ariana let out a soft and troubled sigh once her son closes the door behind him. She hated to be the bad guy sometimes, but if that’s the only way to get headstrong boys to learn the lessons.-- Then so be it. 

#GROUNDED #rocketzealot #redtoomuchintoit #drabble #mom: ariana

[meshugana1]

Okay thanks for your response so my request is there is a wedding the groom has a love for FMG that he thinks he has kept hidden from his now wife. But she knows having seen his browser history and sets a plan so that on the wedding day she will become a huge musculer Amazon. Growing from a almost shy mouse women into a towering dominating Amazon. Feel free to use any medium you want or even use transfer themes.

   Michael sighed as he rung his hands together. The sun felt painfully bright as it shined on him atop the podium. The sea of excited guests staring him down, silently judging him, his best man, the church official, the decor, the awaiting food, and Bethany’s growing lateness didn’t help matters either. It was entirely his fault. He knew he should’ve been honest about his tastes. But it was his bright idea to wait, hoping she would never find out. But she was too smart for that; she was too quick for anything he tried. One of the many reasons he grew to love her. That may sound a little crass, but it is true that she wasn’t exactly his type when they first met.

   They had first met in the gym. Michael spent quite an amount of time there working on his musculature and even more time checking out the ladies. Not just any lady would do either. He only had eyes for the most swole women he could find. The way the delicacy of the feminine physique melded with the incredibly defined muscles was mystifying. They met when Michael dropped a ten-pound dumbbell on her toe. No severe damage had been done, and Michael insisted on buying her a meal in apology. Everything unfolded reasonably naturally after that. There was a strong attraction between them. Only it wasn’t physical. Bethany was intelligent, had a sardonic wit and shared Michael’s love of activity and fitness. His only regret was that she was just such a wispy woman and never showed much interest in gaining, but we seldom get everything that we want in life.

   Michael was more than happy to leave it at that, but Bethany was an inquisitive young woman. It didn’t take her long to realize that Michael’s sex drive was lower than most other meant she had been with. It was a welcome change. Most men couldn’t wait to use her and lose her. Michael was caring though, and he seemed to be playing the long game with her. A year later she had proposed to him, not being one to wait on others to make decisions for her. Everything was going swimmingly until a week ago. Michael had failed to log out of his laptop and was cleaning up his onanistic release when she walked in and learned of his dirty little secret.

   They argued for a long time. He claimed it wasn’t a big deal. She asked if he would love her more if she looked like these women. He lied. She could tell. He didn’t know what else to say, and she understood everything from that silence. She left not angry but somewhat muddled in her thinking. Michale was afraid she was going to cancel the wedding. He didn’t have the words to tell her how he felt, to express just how and why he loved her. No such call came, no one in her wedding party seemed to know anything either. Today was the day, however, and she was nowhere to be seen. The bridesmaids and even her parents seemed just as confused as Michael was. When suddenly the decrepit organist began playing the wedding march. Bethany turned the corner, her father’s arm interlocked with her own and a smile proudly displayed on her face. Michael felt the sweat begin to dry up on his forehead and he counted himself lucky to find a woman like Bethany, even if she wasn’t his ideal girl.

   At that moment though Michael noticed something odd about his finance. She looked just the slightest bit taller. Even more, her dress didn’t seem to fit in the way it was supposed to. His suspicions, and those of several of Bethany’s close friends, seemed to be confirmed when one of the straps of her just suddenly snapped. Her naked shoulder didn’t even look right, it looked beefier. This strangeness continued with her formerly hidden shoes coming into view as her dress picked up off the floor. Peoples confusion became audible when one of her elbow length gloves tore at the seam, revealing a very different looking arm. This one looked like it belonged on Bruce Lee. It had sculpted muscle, not overly large but undeniably toned. Like the arm of a Greek statue. Her trapezius popped almost audibly and it looked like you could use them as speed bumps. Her deltoids, before Michael’s eyes, rounded out perfectly. He was sure that if he felt them they would be like silken steel.

   Where her dress once met the floor, now it was three feet off the ground, displaying her mesmerizing ankles and insanely toned legs. Intermittent snapping could be heard at this point followed by a terrible ripping as her dress tore itself in half at the waist. This showed off her porcelain six-pack abs, and one could only guess at the size of her hips. If her straining dress was any indication, they were magnificent. A dull POP reverberated throughout the hall as her feet outgrew her shoes and she was forced to go barefoot. Even her neck looked like it became living iron. She looked at him eye to eye as she stood at the base of the podium. Then in only two steps, she ascended the short stairs. She now dwarfed the over six foot five inches tall Michael. She was now just short of eight feet tall.

   The priest stood there flabbergasted. One glance from the towering woman encouraged him to continue. “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to bind Michael and…Bethany, in holy matrimony. Before the ceremony, Bethany would like to share with us her own vows.” Bethany turned toward the accompanied families, still veiled, and began to speak. “I know many of you are probably wondering, when can we eat? Well it’ll be just a few minutes. But I’m sure even more of you are asking yourselves what the heck just happened. Well, I’m not exactly too sure myself. But I’ll try to explain as best I can. About a week ago, Mike and I got into a bit of a scrap. I was hurt, and I wasn’t sure who to turn to. But then I met a wonderful woman in a bar. We talked and she asked me if I still loved him. I said of course I do, but I wasn’t sure if he really loved me. At least I wasn’t then. She told me she knew a way to be certain and I took it. She said that if I came today and you didn’t truly love me then nothing would change. But something did change today Mike, and I’m so happy it did. I love you, and I know you love me too, muscles or no muscles!” In her excitement, Bethany wrapped her herculean arms around Michael and lifted him into a deep and passionate kiss. “Sorry everyone, I just couldn’t wait!”

The End. I hope y’all like it!

#Female muscle growth #height growth #personality change #Jinn #wedding #request #Amazon TF

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I’ll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 31)

Things were quiet that morning. He hated the quiet, usually it indicated something sinister. Chan was do for another trip to the industrial park, they all were. But no one seemed to have the energy for it. Not after Wire. The boy’s family had come to get him. Chan supposed that they should be happy for him, he was getting out of the pit, but now they were down another member and he didn’t trust Wire’s parents in the slightest. Not after all of the things Wire had said of them. Chan picked his way through his loot; he’d managed to snatch a shirt for Yoona whose own was becoming to tattered to wear, he got some shoes for Yoko, and he had brought some food with the remains of his cash. A spat with the Roka had depleted his funds almost entirely. Their little rag-tag gang was no match for the real deal, the kind of men who had no qualms about killing and stealing things that people would miss. If Chan wanted to get his gang—who was he fooling anymore—if he wanted to get his friends out of that miserable place he was either going to have to go headfirst into the pricklesnake’s pit or he would need to up his selling game. Azula came to mind; he hoped with all of his soul that she would ask for another satchel soon so he could double the charge. And he felt like the lowest sort of miscreant for the desire. He needed to save them though, he had promised that he would change things for them. For all of them. At the rate things were going, Taeyul wouldn’t live to see it. Something like a week prior, the boy had taken a rusty blade to the ribs courtesy of the Kuroi-Hi. The infection was spreading steadily and Chan could do nothing for it but take the edge off with a concoction called Badger Honey. Its popularity was rising almost as quickly as Ruby Tears. But that stuff was expensive to produce so he was reserving it only to get Taeyul through some of the longest, maybe some of the last nights of his life.

 Needless to say, team morale was down. Bo-Rem hasn’t spoken to him since he ‘let’ Wire get taken away. These days it seemed like she was trying to push him out of his own gang and Khoza was in full support. Yoko was also putting his vote in for a tougher leader. He had Boryuk on his side though—Yuk, his first partner in crime—kept his loyalty. He couldn’t tell for the life of him where Yoona stood; though the shirt had earned him some favor, Chan had a sneaking suspicion that the girl was just waiting to see who came out on top to pick a side.

 They were falling apart.

 Chan whipped a rock at his shack, shattering the only intact window they had. He cursed endlessly. That, like everything else, was his own damn fault and he knew it. A gruff, “nice one, Chan” from Bo-Rem confirmed such.

 He sighed and faced away from the shack, his little battered home. He missed his real home, he missed Ruon-Jian. He seated himself in front of their fire pit, it has been cool for six days now. No more drinks around the fire, these days they just drank to themselves or in pairs. He watched people pass in the distance, some in pairs others alone. A few in groups—friends or families he couldn’t tell. They were just sad, sorry silhouettes. The same as he probably was to them. He heard Taeyul moan from within the shack and he gripped his hands over his ears. He tried with all of his might to suppress the dark urges. The idea that he should sneak into the tent and put his friend down. He didn’t have long anyways. He cried out again, only reiterating the appeal of the notion. He got to his feet, metal glinting in his grasp. In the distance he could see two figures; were they distant enough not to hear, not to see? Chan couldn’t be sure so he flung the knife down with an angry howl.

A good thing too, for the pair wasn’t so distant anymore.

 He didn’t have a name for the Water Tribesman and it took him a heartbeat too long to place the name of his companion. Her hair was longer and silkier, she had put on some weight, her skin tone had become even and almost radiant, and her outfit—though very simple—was as well groomed as her nails. But she assessed him with familiar golden eyes. Clear, sharp, unclouded golden eyes. A faint smile tugged at her lips. “It has been a while, Chan.”

 .oOo.

 The place looked broken…no, it looked broken before. Now it was in complete shambles. Azula wondered how long it has been in such a sorry state and just when it had started to get that way. Was it her absence or Minho’s, possibly it could have been both.

 She let him hug her, a strangely kind gesture. It was nothing like Sokka’s embrace, it didn’t hold the same level of care, almost as if it were done just for the sake of physical contact. He lingers long enough to make Sokka squirm and cringe. But not so long that Sokka could say anything.

 “Who’s that?” Chan eyeballed the man in question.

 “This is Sokka.” She replied, going off to stand next to him. She wasn’t surprised to feel his arm wrap tightly around her middle. In fact, he made a point of doing so. “I figured I would bring him along for some sightseeing.” More than that it was for the sake of shutting him up. Among other things he refused to accept that she could handle her own, it might have been that he knew she could but didn’t want her to have to. She speculated that he was curious more than anything else and possessive when it came to Chan.

 “What are you doing here?”

 “Sightseeing.” Azula smirked.

 “Are you here for more Ruby Tears?” Chan asked, she detected a sort of hopefulness intermixed with a twinge of desperation.  Sokka gripped her somewhat harder, the ghost of a snarl on his face. He really ought to calm down, and Azula hoped that she wouldn’t have to make him.

 “I haven used them in…”

“Ten weeks.” Sokka filled in.

 “I probably should have realized that.” Chan rubbed the back of his head. The same hand came to brush across her cheek. She grasped his wrist and lowered it as Sokka stirred next to her. “I was upset when you took off…”

 In the slam of wood on wood, Bo-Rem kicked the shack’s door open and came stumbling out. “Why’d you leave us anyways, princess?” She sneered with all of the hatred she had exuded the day she’d fought her. Slowly the others gathered behind her. For some reason she still expected Minho to prance over with that stupid lopsided grin and greet her with a, ‘hey pretty lady.’ It filled her with a hollow, raw sort of guilt.

 “Cause she got what she came for, Bo. She didn’t need us anymore so she went back.” Kohza replied simply.

 “Is what them hinger borns do.” Yoko added.

 “We were just a pass time until you got it together, weren’t we?” Boryuk questioned.

 Azula began to speak, Bo-Rem—as per usual—had been waiting for that moment to cut in. “Well it looks like you did, so why are you back here? You want us to rough you up again?”

 Again, Sokka snarled, he was a ticking timebomb. She gave him a quick and subtle shock, a tiny bolt that had him rubbing his elbow. In the meantime, she was being scrutinized. Every little bit of her and based upon their faces the judgments weren’t ones of praise.

 “How much did it cost to get that done?” Boryuk asked, pointing to her nails. “Bet we coulda helped Taeyul with that kinda cash. It ain’t even look that good.”

 Azula furrowed her brows, “what happened to Taeyul?”

 Instead of answering they continued to ridicule. Mostly petting things but with a few things that stung more. She kept her demeanor as passive as possible when Yoko scowled, “Ya left us for that?” He jabbed a finger at Sokka. “For a average piece of Water Tribe trash. One of them sea savages. Even we have standards here.”

 “I left for my own reasons.”

 “You missed getting pampered?” Boryuk filled in.

 “We can all tell.” Bo-Rem muttered. “Mind sharing some of that food with us?”

 Another low blow. Azula had to admire the venom in Bo-Rem’s voice and the nerve it took to speak to her like that. They were all itching for a reaction. Doing everything in their power to coax one out of her. For a second time with this lot, she found herself thankful for Ozai’s harsh treatment. The verbal and physical lashings that helped her build such a calm façade. Then, it might not have been a false nonchalance at all; she’d said such dreadful things about herself until she grew numb to it. But Sokka, he was growing incrementally testier on her behalf—and for the sea savage comment. He was fuming to a level that matched the best firebenders. He was ridged which was never a good sign. He was holding back.

 As Yoona ran dirty fingers through Azula’s hair she babbled something akin to, “she smells nice…it’s awful!” The girl always was awful with dishing out insults. Azula gave her props for the attempt.

 Bo-Rem picked up where she lacked, “why did it look better when it was chopped up?”

 At this point Chan spoke, it was something in her defense. But as it were, Bo-Rem seemed to have tossed any semblance of respect to the side and went off on him for being a spoiled high blood too. At least the focus was off of her, at least as far as Bo-Rem was concerned.

 Unsurprisingly, Kohza was the one hitting home. Where Bo-Rem, Boryuk, and Yoko were hyper-focused on the physical, Kohza had a terrible onslaught of truths. “You’re still selfish.” He drawled. “You came here, had some fun while you waited for things to clear up at home, got your fix, and left us when things got bad.”

 “I think you and your highly intelligent detective squad have already established that.” Azula hissed, finding it harder to curb her tongue. He was treading in deep waters and she had a decently powerful zigzag of lightning to send into that sea.

 “It’s your fault, you know? Minho died getting high enough to keep you entertained and then you just vanished. Back into the palace where you could pretend like it never happened. What was Minho to you? You didn’t care about him at all, did you?”

 That was a deeper slash, any charge she had sizzled out. He delivered a metal shock to match her own physical one. She wondered if it would be a bad time to take Chan up on his offer for the tears, they would keep her from her own. She shouldn’t have come back, closure wasn’t worth it. Sokka was mumbling something soft to her, but she could only hear Kohza.

 “And the worst part is, you came back here for you. Not for us. You came here to ease your guilt, didn’t you? You ran the minute Minho died, the minute things became real and you want us to tell you that it’s okay.”

 He was right, wasn’t he? That was mostly what was on her mind. She wasn’t quite so different after all; she was still a liar, still conceited (but still somehow lacking self-esteem), still hateful…

Azula felt herself going numb again, it was the only shield she had left.

 She had every desire to turn back the way she came. That would only prove him right wouldn’t it? They had her cornered. So instead she took a seat and listened to Kohza prattle on and on about her selfishness with more commentary from the others on her appearance sprinkled in. With a hint of cynical amusement, she noted that they kind of reminded her of the vase she’d had various spats with. Just like with the voices in the vase, she had nothing to say in her defense. She wished that they would just throw fire—or in the case of Boryuk, rocks—and punches instead. The urge to huddle over and cup her hands tightly against her ears was overwhelming. It would be a weak move though, so she let the berating continue.

 Sokka must have seen the lively glimmer in her eye, that had been there only moments before, fade. He snapped, throwing a pretty solid bone-crunching punch to Kohza’s nose. Azula had forgotten that Bo-Rem was his lover until she rose, a solid wall of bulky muscle. Sokka faced her head on, raw anger alone gave him the upper hand. Azula felt strongly inclined to praise him for his strength and to add her own—a swift delivery of her wrath now that she mostly had some physical fight in her. But something wasn’t right in Sokka. Every brutal blow, every furious look, something was horribly wrong. She recognized it, perhaps in the same way Zu-Zu had detected it on her so long ago. He was slamming his fist into the side of Bo-Rem’s head, Azula could see her dim even duller than before.

 “Sokka, you’re going to kill her if you keep that up.” Azula said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

 “Maybe I should! Maybe you should!”

 “I don’t want to.” Azula replied simply. “And you don’t want to either.”

 Sokka snarled at her.

 “Now look at this, you’ve worked yourself into a rage.” Azula rolled her eyes. It was the best she could do. She was afraid, maybe not of him.

But for him.

 Among other things she would have to ask what this outburst was about. It wasn’t about some slum-town trash talk. No, this was pent up rage that had found an outlet. “Let her go, Sokka.” It took a considerable effort but she pried his hand away. She pinched the bridge of her nose and inwardly groaned. His display hadn’t helped her case any, even Chan was staring at her like she was brining woe upon the all. “Sit down Sokka. Over there.” She pointed a distance away.

 “Don’t tell me what to do!” He hollered.

 “I will. And you will listen.” Azula replied cooly, trailing her fingers over his very tense biceps. “Sit down and let me handle myself.”

 “You brought me here to protect you.” It was almost a whine.

 “I brought you here because you wanted to come, Sokka. I came here to sort out my problems on my own.” Her own lax demeanor was a pleasant surprise. She watched Sokka sulk over to the makeshift chair where he began brooding silently—she would have to lift his spirits somehow later—before turning her attention back to Kohza and his bleeding nose.

 He was relentless, “any you brought your water dog here to trash the place too—”

 This time she cut him off. “And he wouldn’t have done that if you would have held your uncivilized tongue. You know how to say just the wrong things don’t you? How to push every button at the same time. I suppose I can’t blame you, that’s my favorite tactic.” She shrugged.

 Yoona snickered.

Yoona was her new favorite.

 Kohza opened his mouth to protest but she left him no room. It was her turn. “The truth is, you want to be a noble. You wish that this,” she motioned to herself, “could be you.” She paused, letting it seep in. “I’m right, yes? You have such a sharp tongue, you’re clever, you have potential. But you were born here, so it’s all wasted, isn’t it?” The way his eyes bugged and his mouth parted told him that she’d cut as deep as he had. “You want to be the one who can run back to the palace when things get tough. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t if you had the chance.”

 “Azula…” Chan tried in just the same way he’d tried to calm Bo-Rem. He had just as much success this time around.

 “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “I’m not finished.”

 Kohza sneered. “What else do you have to say?”

 “I’m glad you asked!” Azula spoke with a false cheeriness, she clapped her hands together. “I want to tell you another truth.” She wandered closer to him.

 “What’s that?” He asked.

 “Hmmm. That You’re right, I did come here for myself, I suppose. To, I believe you said, ‘ease my guilt.’ You’re right, I came here to do something like that. Because I did care about Minho.” Her voice dropped warningly low, “you have no idea.”

 “I leaves ya.” Yoona gave her input.

 That made one person who did.

 “What is she even saying!” Sokka threw his hands in the air.

 “That she believes me.”

 “Is that what she actually said or is that what you want to hear?” She heard Sokka grumble. He seemed to hate the place more than she had on her first visit.

 “Then why’d ya leave?” Boryuk asked.

 “I thought you liked us.” Bo-Rem added, “we a token for you.”

 Azula held up the trinket in question, she never had parted with it. Bo-Rem’s face softened, it seemed that she took rejection as well as the princess herself. “I left because Kohza was right the first time too, I don’t belong here. I came here and Minho ended up dead, so I left before anyone else could.” Azula answered quietly. It was one of those things she didn’t like to say out loud, one of those things she realized as she said it. “Of course, I also wanted to put some distance between myself and the situation…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish; before it tore me apart.

 “Well, someone did.” Yoko spat. “Least, he’s tryin’ to.”

 Azula inquired again, “what happened to Taeyul?” She gave the camp another once-over. “And where’s Wire?”

 “Wire’s parents took him home.” Chan answered.

 “Where’s home?”

 “Somewhere closer to your own.” Chan replied. “He was a runaway. They found him, robbing from a cabbage merchant of all things.”

 “That guy is here too!?” Sokka sputtered incredulously. “I hate this place so much. I just—wow.”

 He left Azula wondering what he had against cabbage merchants. She shook her head, she had more important questions to press. “And Taeyul.”

 “Why don’ ya take a look, princess.” Yoko offered.

 The inside of the shack was gloomy and smelled putrid, almost rotten. It smelled sickly. It was the unmistakable odor of death approaching. Taeyul was the source of the rot. Her infection had been pretty wicked, oozing a sort of nasty fluid. But his, his was weeping the stuff. She truly didn’t mean to but she visibly had to hold back a retch. He was definitely in a state of passing, lingering all too closely to the spirit realm. He was dying an Ash Pit style death. His entire face had a sheen of sweat, his cheeks blotchy and tearstained. They already lost Minho and Wire. They truly were in such a sorry state, one more loss and they would go down. “Let me take him home with me.”

 “What!?” It wasn’t just Chan and Yoko. The reply had come from Sokka too. And Bo-Rem. And Boryuk…and Khoza. Yoona was off in her own little Yoona world, wrapping her long untamed locks around her pointer. But Azula imagined that she’d have uttered it to had she been paying attention.

 “Let me take him back to the palace, I know someone who can heal him.”

 “You want to bring him into the upper ring?” Chan asked.

 “That’s correct.” Azula folded her arms over her chest.  “Believe it or not, you idiots helped me. Now let me help you. This place is falling apart even Toph would be able to see that.”

 “You can’t bring a person like Taeyul to a place like…like where we come from.”

 “Is that a challenge, Chan?” Azula quirked an eyebrow. “Alright fine, I like challenges. I’ll bring all of you!” She didn’t know whose jaw hit the floor first.

 Sokka ambled up behind her and spoke in a tone filled with anger and amazement. “Did I ever tell you that I hate your surprises?”

#Sokkla #Azula #Sokka #Toph #Aang #Katara #Zuko #Avatar #Fanfiction

[holmesoverture]

The Telegraph Boy, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Be Here Chapter 5 Be Here

“I was somewhat cavalier as a young man, as are most young men, so confident are they that neither age nor consequences ever shall ensnare them.  It was with such jejune buoyancy that I familiarised myself with the bedrooms of London’s most dapper unnatural offenders, eventually growing careless enough to dispense with the bedrooms altogether and to enjoy the company of my many acquaintances in whatever location was most convenient and, more importantly, most thrilling.

“It was during one such encounter in a theatre that a newspaperman spied us and went directly to my father to see how he might profit by his splendid eyesight.  You must forgive my vagueness when describing this event.  It seems so long ago now and there was so little emotional attachment to the other gentlemen and to the venue that when I try to recall either of them, I find myself confronted with a great blank spot in my memory.  Red velvet seats, a shock of dark hair, a woman’s strained soprano—trifling details are all that are left to me now.  As for the newspaperman, I have my doubts as to his true motives for observing our activities, but that hardly matters now.  He had observed them, and he exhibited an enthusiastic willingness to sacrifice the Walmsleys’ reputations for the sake of establishing his own.

“My father paid him well and we have never since been harried by him, but the passing of the Criminal Law Amendment Act had brought an end to my dear father’s patience.  ‘You will be married immediately,’ said he, ‘to Helen Willoughby, Lord Willoughby’s eldest daughter.  I am loathe to hand over a shameless wastrel such as yourself to so fair a creature, but perhaps she will succeed in domesticating your impulses where I have failed.’

“My father spoke truthfully in his assessment of Lady Willoughby.  If you gave a man a hundred years to find a wife, he should never find one as loyal or as fine as my own, but there has never been a shred of true affection between us.  Whatever you may think of me, I am not so much of a cur as to divulge Helen’s secrets, but suffice to say she is no more capable of loving me than I am of feeling more than platonic gratitude for her.  I imagine she was well-pleased to find me gone.”

“She was not displeased,” Holmes allowed.

“Nor should I have been, were our positions inverted.  Still, I have tried to make the best of our unenviable situation.  We both were fully aware of our respective circumstances before our wedding and had no grand expectations of each other, so it was with a pure conscience that I pursued the company of Reuben Kendall.  We met at our club and had in common both our hobbies and our restive temperaments.  Perhaps you will find the sentiment abhorrent, but Reuben is dearer to me than any woman ever was to a man, and the one occasion upon which we separated plunged me into a despair such as I had never imagined.

“I had grown paranoid, you see, that we might eventually be discovered.  Every man on the street, in the train, and in my clubs appeared to my eye as another newspaperman hungering for the kind of publicity that only Reuben and I could provide. I convinced myself that breaking off our relationship was for the best, and Reuben saw that I had made up my mind about it and offered little protest.

“‘I only hope that you never have cause to regret your decision,’ he said, little suspecting that I was already wishing I had bit off my tongue rather than part company.  

“That evening found me at the home of a friend, one whose name I shall not reveal lest he be forced to share my fate.  He was sympathetic to my situation and determined he would cheer me by bringing me to Mr Hammond’s establishment in 19 Cleveland Street.  There my friend passed a pleasurable enough evening.  I could not bring myself to move past the entryway, still consumed as I was by my self-inflicted sorrow.  I felt quite the fool, sitting alone for nearly an hour with my hat in hand.  Of far greater moment was the aftermath of that evening.  No newspaperman came knocking upon my door to ransom my honour, nor did the newsboys on the street shout my wickedness to lure customers.  I had done as I pleased without bringing the slightest bit of shame upon myself or my name.  After a number of other such evenings, my confidence was like that of a king, and I hastened to Kendall Estate to beg Reuben’s forgiveness. ��That he granted it so readily is a testament to his compassionate nature and to my very good fortune.”

“And on none of those occasions did you ever venture past the entry?” I asked, incredulous.

“Not once.  I had no desire for the sort of entertainment to be found there, only for the challenge the place offered me.  Escaping without consequence only once could have been simple coincidence, but if such an incident occurred several times, then I could know my paranoia was just that, and that Reuben and I might have a chance together after all.

“Upon the night in question, I was in my study burning our correspondence.  I do not do so for every epistle written by Reuben’s hand but on occasion we forget ourselves and compose an especially poetic yet incriminating passage that I, now a sadder and a wiser man, know would ruin the both of us.  Still I was more than content with my lot in life when I heard a soft knocking upon the door.  I bade the stranger to enter and in came Sally Farrier, who curtsied and asked if we might have a word.  She seemed frightfully out of sorts, pale and stiff and trembling from head to foot.  I assumed it to be nerves and offered her a drink to soothe her.

“I envisioned our interaction going thusly: I would fix her a drink, she would calm enough to tell me of her quandary, I would do all in my power to help her, and she would return to her work all the more contented for it.  But before I had taken five steps in the direction of my desk, she spoke again.  She said, ‘My brother is Alfred Farrier.  He recently has found employment in Cleveland Street.’  At first I did not respond, for I knew nothing of the name she had uttered, but at the mention of Cleveland Street, my heart fairly stopped within me.  Sally must have known the impact her remark would leave and stood in perfect, silent stillness, allowing ample time for her terrible words to strike home.  She knew of my sins, and she had seen fit to inform me that she knew, which spoke to only two outcomes of our meeting: she intended either to blackmail me or to ensure I did not leave that room with my life.  As I said, I had done nothing but sit by myself in 19 Cleveland Street, but no one but myself, my friend and Mr. Hammond were aware of this, and in any event, my mere presence in such a place would be more than enough to condemn me.

“‘What are your plans for this information?’ I asked.

“‘I’ll be honest with you, sir.  When Alfred confessed to me where he got all that money, I was so angry that if you’d have been there I’d have shot you where you stood, and that’s the truth.  But then I caught myself, and I thought that you being dead wouldn’t do anybody any good, least of all the ones you wronged.’

“‘So it is money you’re after.’

“‘Give us enough to leave the city and set ourselves up someplace else, someplace nice, and the pair of us won’t ever trouble you again,’ she said, nodding.  Sally had become increasingly confident as she went on, more confident than ever I had seen her, and my old paranoia rose with her assuredness.  Could I trust her to keep her word?  Even if I gave her my fortune, my household and all within it, would she never again be tempted to benefit by her illicit knowledge?  But as the silence lengthened her confidence was joined by anxiety.  Seeing her fear reminded me with whom I was dealing and allowed me to take command of my own fears.

“‘I take no joy in saying such things, I assure you,’ said she, eyes wide, ‘but of all the possible outcomes of these circumstances I really think this is the most profitable for everyone involved.’

“In addition to bonds and documents and such I kept one hundred pounds in cash in my strong-box.  I gave it all to Sally, much to her surprised delight.  I daresay she did not fully expect her gambit to meet with such success so quickly.  She finally accepted the brandy I had offered, but even as she relaxed I could hear Lady Walmsley prowling the halls.  Her insomnia must have been troubling her again, but if nothing else it served to remind me that someone may look at the empty strong-box or at Sally’s abrupt departure and suspect illegal activity, so I left there a little note telling her what had happened and left the study door ajar to encourage her to find it.”

“Ah, so that’s what you wrote,” said Holmes, looking satisfied.  “It was quite clever of you to rip up and throw away the blotting paper you used so that no one would read what must have been a most incriminating missive.  Still, you’d have been better served by leaving your letter in some more obvious place.  Lady Walmsley did not find it until after the police had been called.”

“Oh, how awful!” Lord Walmsley cried.  “Oh, how foolish of me!  The police haven’t caught Sally, have they?”

“Not that I’m aware.  If you were to write another letter, one that is not quite so incriminating, that absolves Sally of responsibility for the missing funds, I should be glad to deliver it to one with the authority to end the chase.  Lady Walmsley would certainly be glad to follow any instructions found in such a letter.  But please do finish your testimony first.”

“Yes, of course, Mr Holmes.  I shall do exactly as you say.  The sound of Lady Walmsley’s footfalls brought the precariousness of our positions to the forefront of our thoughts.  We knew we had to leave immediately to avoid suspicion and capture, but we didn’t want to risk having a cab driver see us together.  By a wonderful stroke of luck, the groom’s widowed mother had taken ill that morning, and of course Lady Walmsley gave him the day to tend to her.  With the stables thus abandoned and the house servants retired for the evening, it was a simple thing for us to bid a harefooted farewell to Shrewsbury House and slip out.  The police will find the horse and carriage abandoned at the St Pancras station, if they have not already done so.

“For all her success, Sally Farrier was not meant for such an underhanded business.  She nervously chattered the entire way to the station.

“‘I should never have even considered blackmail as a solution to my situation,’ said she, ‘but my uncle has been so very ill and would greatly benefit from a new atmosphere, and as for my dear brother, well sir, this is most kindly intended, but I feel it’s better for me to sully my own hands a little than to allow him to sully his own, thinking it’s the only way to support the three of us.’  She even recommended a friend of hers to take her place as our maid.  She is a very good girl, in spite of it all, and I told her so before we parted ways.

“At the station Sally boarded an unknown train for an unknown destination.  She said she would send for her relatives once she was safely away from London.  What o’clock is it?  Almost eleven?  Well she has surely done so by now.”

“In that case, I have one final question for you. Why did you run?”

“I have had quite enough of blackmail for one lifetime.  I came here intending to stay only until I could secure passage to France, where I would spend my remaining years in exile.  I want to resent Sally Farrier for her actions, but now that I am forever free of the prison in which my own youthful foolishness placed me, even if I have only traded that prison for another, I am grateful it was Sally who uncovered my secret rather than someone with neither heart nor conscience.”

The ticking of the clock exploded in the silence that followed this singularly sympathetic narrative.  It was soon joined by the scratching of a pen as Lord Walmsley made good on his word and cleared the good name of Sally Farrier while excluding any mention of his own indiscretions.  With the missive safely in his coat pocket, Holmes rose and extended his hand.  

“I wish you a safe and pleasant journey to the Continent, Lord Walmsley,” said he.  “Please convey our regards to Lord Kendall.”

I shall never forget the expression of pure relief that these words brought to Lord Walmsley’s features.  The toll imposed by years of dread and hiding was, for this one small moment, forgotten and supplanted by an unfettered joy that I have only rarely been privileged to witness, much less experience first-hand.

-

Chapter 7 Be Here

-

Notes of Interest

Criminal Law Amendment Act – Specifically, Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885.  This stupendously vague law made it illegal for two men to engage in “gross indecency.”  The punishment was up to two years in prison, which was actually an improvement considering that previous punishments included life imprisonment and execution.

#sherlock holmes #the telegraph boy #my writing #confession time

[valeeneyredux-blog]

GyJo week, Day 3: Birthdays 

I was really excited the birthday theme was on my actual birthday, so I wrote a fic. Its NSFW, so be warned. You can read it on Ao3 with the link or just keep reading here :^0

If there was one thing Johnny expected out of his racing partner, it would be that the man was full of surprises. However, being woken up from a nap during one of their seldom taken breaks to experience another one of the Italian’s sudden bomb-shells was not on his list of favorite things. In fact, when he heard Gyro’s rather excited calls to get him up, the young jockey grumbled and turned the other way, pulling his star spangled hat down further to cover his ears. “Johnny, come on! I have to show you something!” Gyro shook his shoulder, making damn sure he wouldn’t be falling asleep with the constant rocking. “Can’t it wait till sunrise…?” Johnny grumbled. “No, it’s gotta be tonight!” The blonde sighed, knowing that when his partner got in this determined, there’d be no refusing. It was either get it done now, or stay up even later trying to ignore it. So, he used his elbows to lift himself up, slowly crawling out of the warmth of his bed roll. He shivered at the bristling air, missing the warmth of his blanket. He just hoped whatever joke or idea he knew Gyro was going to lay on him wouldn’t take too long. “Alright, you’ve got my attention. What’s up?” The Italian grinned, putting a finger to his oddly groomed facial hair. “Nyo ho, don’t sound to excited Johnny boy.” Johnny then realized he was hiding something behind his back with his other arm. He wasn’t concealing it that well either, in his excitement to show it off, Johnny could see part of a box reveal itself. “What is that.” The Joestar looked unamused, still wiping the sleep out of his eyes. If Gyro had just woken him up to show that he finally bought a damn toothbrush from the catalogue, he would’ve been pissed. Would have, if the other man didn’t suddenly reveal the box to Johnny, arms outstretched, and give a big, grill exposing smile. “Happy Birthday Johnny!” At first, the Kentucky boy was just confused. “I never told you my birthday.” He responded almost immediately. “Well, yes, but its been a month or two since we’ve been riding, and I figured it’s gotta come eventually.” “This race is supposed to take 60-80 days. My birthday could be way out of that range.” Gyro huffed, refusing to give up. “Well is it?” It was at that point Johnny must’ve finally home to his senses, that or the sleepiness finally got out of his system, because he finally really thought about his birth date. How long had it been since he stopped celebrating it? Definitely since before the accident. When he considered it closely, he came to the realization it was around when his brother… “So…? When is it?” Johnny looked up, forgetting his partner was even there. If he didn’t think to hard about it, he would’ve thought the Italian looked a bit concerned. That couldn’t be it though. “Uh… I… Don’t remember.” The blonde quietly responded, lowering his body back to the ground. “What? You don't remember? Johnny, I know you Americans are different, but you cant expect me to believe you don’t celebrate birthdays!” Gyro let out a little bit of a snort, which only made Johnny curl into himself more, turning away from his friend. “Yeah, maybe I’m just weird.” It didn’t take much to sense the discomfort in the jockey’s voice, and Gyro felt a little bad for teasing him this time. He put the box aside, the mood quite unsettled now, and made his was over to his friend. “What’s wrong Johnny?” The Italian put a hand on his shoulder, but this time it was gentle, cupping him lightly. “It’s nothing, really.” His partner could already tell in the tone of his voice that it most certainly was not nothing. Johnny was doing a fair job at concealing it, turning his head away and all, but the light coming from their campfire had given away the tears dampening his cheeks. Guilt washed over Gyro then, absolutely not expecting to open up this can of worms with a simple present. Sighing quietly, the older man decided just stroking Johnny’s shoulder wasn’t going to be enough to console his upset friend, so he took a moment to hook his arms under the smaller man’s arm pits, lifting him up so he was face to face with Gyro. “Gyro what the hell do you think y-you’re-“ Johnny was unable to continue his sentence, coming to the realization that Gyro would be able to see his tear stained face clear as day now. He tried to conceal his embarrassment by scrubbing the wetness away with his star speckled arm band, but it was too late. The Italian’s suspicions were all but absolute. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice was unusually collected, hand taking refuge where Johnny’s were previously to touch the younger man’s cheek. “It wasn’t your fault.” “Then…?” “I haven’t celebrated my birthday since my brother died.” He looked down, letting out a grim laugh. “Actually, It’s been so long I kinda forgot when it was really.” “Oh Johnny…” Gyro looked at him with sincere eyes, and it was then the young jockey felt uncomfortable, like he was being pitied. “Listen, it’s not important. Let’s just go back to sleep.” Johnny tried to get himself out of Gyro’s grasp, just forget about this whole thing and act like he didn’t just cry in front of his goddamned mentor, but the Italians grip was firm. Firm… but comforting. Johnny looked up. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the tears were still making his eyes a bit blurry, but he thought he saw something in Gyro’s eyes. For a second, he felt as if what he was seeing wasn’t pity, but… concern. Before he could register the feeling further, Gyro leaned down and kissed him. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done it once before, but Johnny was pretty sure that time was just spurred on by the alcohol they had in their system. This, no, this was different. The way Gyro pulled him in further, dragging him out of the warmth of his bed roll and onto the Italian’s lap, the way he sank deeper into the kiss, entering Johnny’s mouth with his hot tongue, it all felt different. It felt real. It felt exhilarating. But still, Johnny couldn’t help the nagging feeling that maybe he should pull away, so he did. Rather reluctantly. “W-wait Gyro. Why are you doing this?” The blonde struggled to keep his composure. He was trembling slightly, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the feeling of being touched like that after so long. The Italian gave another snort, pulling Johnny with his arms that were now wrapped against the smaller man’s back. “Shouldn’t that be obvious? I wouldn’t get you a birthday present if I didn’t already like you, Johnny boy.” Feeling a blush spreading across his cheeks, the younger man squirmed on his partners lap, suddenly self conscious. “If you’re just doing this to make me feel better, I’ll punch you.” “Oh I know.” Gyro laughed, getting closer to the other with a widening grin. “And don’t worry. I wanna make you feel good, but in a different way than you’re thinking.” Johnny didn’t feel the need to protest too much after that, especially when Gyro’s lips pressed against his a second time. Gyro pulled him in closer, practically having the jockey straddle him. Not that he noticed, he couldn’t feel it after all. What Johnny did feel, however, was nearly overwhelming. The way the Italians scent lingered near his nose every time he got in closer, keeping him embraced, when he pulled off the jockey’s hat and slid a hand under his shirt, coasting over the small of his back, it was intoxicating. Suddenly, Gyro made a noise, one unusual enough for Johnny to break away for a second, panting. “What’s happened?” “Ah, it’s nothing. Well, okay, not nothing. You’re kind of grinding against my…” Both of them looked down, and it was then Johnny noticed the visible tent in Gyro’s pants. Not only that, the jockey was also pressing against him quite harshly while they were occupied. “Oh, sorry.” The blonde replied, moving himself back a little. “Don’t worry.” Gyro laughed, examining his partner as well. “From the looks of it, you’re no better than me.” Johnny looked down at himself and realized he had gotten hard as well, not that he felt it. He hadn’t gotten into a sexual encounter with another person since his accident, but he could still get the occasional boner. It always came at awkward times though. Still, he felt the slightest tinge of embarrassment, and instead of acknowledging it, he turned his attention to his partner. “Give me a second.” The Joestar said, starting to move himself off the Italian’s lap with some resistance. It wasn’t easy to do when your legs didn’t work, after all. “Woah Johnny, what’re you-“ Gyro started to speak, but he didn’t finish his sentence when the Kentucky boy unbuckled his signature belt. Getting the zipper undone proved to be just as easy, and soon enough Johnny was pulling down Gyro’s pants. He palmed the Italian’s clothed erection, feeling a bit cocky when he heard the man above him illicit a moan. Johnny made extra sure to be slow, applying the gentle pressure of his tongue to the growing wet spot on Gyro’s undergarments. He could taste the saltiness of the other’s precum through the material, and he pushed harder, sucking around him. It was not long before Gyro pulled Johnny’s mouth away, panting. “Slow down there. I said I was going to make you feel good. It defeat’s the purpose if I get off first.” Johnny smiled, raising a brow. “You’d come just from that?” The other man slanted his eyes, lips pursing. “If you could’ve felt how I did, I doubt you’d last any longer.” He put a hand to Johnny’s chest and pushed him slightly, commanding him to reposition. It took a while, but Johnny was now sitting on his back, facing up the man above him, who was currently pulling the blonde’s shirt up, exposing his nipples to the chill air. Goosebumps rose on his skin, but they quickly subsided when Gyro took his mouth to one of Johnny exposed buds. The blonde regretted teasing him so much, because now it seemed he was getting his due. The older man made circles around his partner’s chest, giving a tooth grin at the boy when he saw the nub begin to stiffen. It seemed that Johnny’s hard on, which had subsided for the time being, was now at full mast again, poking at the other’s thighs. Gyro sucked harder on him, biting slightly. Johnny tried to keep his voice as quiet as possible, but he found little moans escaping him still. Gyro definitely heard them, with the smug look spreading across his face. Turning his attention away from the abused nipple, the Italian drifted downwards, trailing his tongue further until it reached the brim of Johnny’s waistband. Again, it took sometime, but Gyro was able to fully removed the Jousters starry pants. Johnny had noticed his underwear going along with it, but said nothing, a sudden nervousness settling deep in his core. Gyro marveled at the body below him, but when he turned his attention to his partner’s face, he could again see that slight discomfort in it. “Did I get too carried away?” He asked, scratching the back of his scalp awkwardly. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t feel anything down there. I’ve tried.” Even though the blonde sounded defeated, Gyro seemed to perk up, like he knew something Johnny didn’t, “Nyo ho, so you’ve fingered yourself before?” “W-what of it?!” Johnny said flustered. “Don’t worry Johnny,” Gyro laughed, enjoying the expression his partner was now making. “Just because you’ve tried it doesn't mean it’s hopeless. You probably just didn’t hit your prostate.” “My what?” Johnny quickly decided not to probe further. He forgot Gyro was a doctor, so he probably knew what he was talking about. Getting comfortable, he lied back down on the ground, trying not to focus on the act Gyro was about to preform, but rather on the sky above him. The older man took a quick second to retrieve something from his bag, presumably some kind of oil, though Johnny couldn’t really tell with the fire starting to go out. “Now, tell me when I hit something.” Gyro said, slicking his fingers up. Johnny wouldn’t feel the discomfort of being entered, but he still wanted to make sure he didn’t put too much pressure on the younger boy. Slowly, he entered one finger in, and when Gyro heard no response, just an embarrassed cough coming from the other man, he decided to go further, keeping his reach and curling his fingers. A second finger quickly followed, and the Italian used his other free hand to make sure Johnny was still erect. At this point the jockey was ready to give up and  go back to pleasing Gyro, so he broke the silence. “Gyro you can stop, I don't think I’m gonna feel anythi- ah!” It seemed at that moment, Gyro hit something that sent a shock through Johnny’s body. It was sudden, but the blonde was sure he could feel it for a second. “Ho! So that was it huh?” The jockey put a hand to his mouth, still bewildered by the sound that came out of him, and nodded. “Well, all I have to do is make sure I get it again!” The Italian let out another one of his distinct laughs, lowering his pants down more till they were around his ankles. His cock fully out now, Johnny took precautions not to stare to much at the other man. But he couldn’t help himself, especially when he saw his partner slick himself with some more oil. “I’m going to enter you, is that alright, Johnny?” “Y-yeah.” The blonde responded. Inside, he was practically itching at the bit to get that feeling again. Slowly, Gyro settled himself into the younger man. Again, Johnny didn’t say anything, so the Italian started thrusting, trying to reach the same spot he did before. “Hey Johnny, give me your arm, I wanna try a different position.” Johnny obliged, feeling nothing, but definitely hearing the slick sounds coming from the contact. He ignored his own embarrassment at the noise as he was pulled once again into Gyro’s lap. Immediately , the position proved to be fruitful, for it took one well placed thrust for Johnny to see stars again. “Oh Gyro! Right there!” The older man exposed his grills in a smile, hitting the same spot again. “You’re so tight.” He admired, listening to Johnny’s increasingly loud moans. He examined the younger man closely, looking at the way the fire glinted in his blue eyes, tinting his skin a different shade. It took him a while to realize his feeling had become much more than that of a mentor, and for once he was glad his risk paid off when he kissed the boy. Gyro pressed his lips to the corner of Johnny’s watering eyes, tasting the salt there. “I love you.” Johnny didn’t respond, but that was probably due to the fact Gyro made another firm jab at his prostate. Still, he felt a sudden warmth bloom in his chest. It was the first time someone had said that since he was a kid, and it honestly made him a little dizzy. “Gyro I’m-“ The blonde squeaked out a response that was cut off by the sudden orgasim racking through his body. For a second he thought he could even feel himself ejaculate, but he must’ve been coming off the high of Gyro saying he loved him. The Italian took a few thrusts but soon enough he met his own climax, spilling deep inside his partner. Both of them clearly spent, It took a bit of fumbling to clean themselves off and get clothed again, but once they did, they were able to relax, cuddling close to one another on Johnny’s bed roll. “Did you really mean it?” Johnny finally asked wen the fire went out, shrouding them both in darkness. “That I love you? Yeah.” Gyro snickered, burying himself in the crook of the smaller man’s neck. Though he promised himself he wouldn’t cry again tonight, Johnny could feel a tear or two escaping him this time. “Thanks. I… I love you too.” He laughed, wiping away the wet pool on his cheek as his partner held him closer. For once, he felt a sense of calm. Like maybe, he didn’t have to worry about his past anymore. He could hold onto it, but he would know what the future had in store would bring an even better tomorrow. And maybe, he could celebrate again. “That reminds me, when’s your Birthday Gyro?” Johnny asked, breaking himself out of his train of thought. It was faint, but he could see Gyro’s outline. His eyes were closed, almost like he was sleeping, but he flashed a smile at Johnny’s inquiry. “Heh, It’s a secret.” “Are you serious.” Johnny raised a brow, asking why now of all times his partner had to be cheeky. His thoughts quickly dashed when Gyro looked up at him. Through the darkness he could see the determination in his eyes. “Stay with me after this race is all over, and maybe you’ll find out.” Johnny blushed, and after some consideration, nodded. He decided he might as well get some rest then. It had been a good birthday after all.

#gyjoweek17 #gyjo #johnny joestar #gyro zeppeli #steel ball run #fanfic #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #sorry for posting early i just wanted to do it

[astrxd]

Service With a Smile CH 15

A/N: [Weak fanfare/jazz hands.]

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 CH 8 | CH 9 | CH 10 | CH 11 | CH 12 | CH 13 | CH 14

Quiet, low whistling filled her ears. They were sweet notes--slow, calming...

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a proposal. A dance proposal, that is. But…

Either way, Astrid couldn’t find any reason to refuse--especially with the lovely song that was resonating throughout the marble interior of the reception hall. She was almost certain that she detected various parts of the melody that had been interwoven during the wedding march, and though her gaze was momentarily locked on the newlywed couple swaying to the tune of the music, it soon shifted up and towards the space at her side.

Towards Hiccup.

He was regarding the scene before them unfold with something that looked vaguely like nostalgia. The faint gleam in his eye gave her the impression that he was familiar with the song being played, and the quirk of his lips clued her in on his… mixed feelings? She couldn’t tell, exactly, even with their close proximity--what with the suddenly dimmed lights, and all that. The only thing that stuck out to her were still his eyes.

They almost made her own chest hurt a little, actually. There was just an absurd amount of emotion there, and--

It took her a moment to register the fact that they were now staring right back at her, but when she did process it, Astrid didn’t falter. Rather, she stood her ground, and she… She offered him a small, easy smile, not particularly mindful of the way that other pairs started to edge onto the dancefloor once solely occupied by the bride and groom.

“Either there’s something on my face, or…” Hiccup said, both sounding and looking sheepish. She couldn’t help but bite her lip in order to refrain from laughing, though her shoulders did shake the slightest bit.

“You’re fine,” she assures him, prior to gently squeezing his arm and taking a step onto the marble tile. Really, she could have sworn that under the yellow glow of the lights that seemed to freely hover above them, his cheeks flushed slightly--so her smile broadened just a little bit more. (It was the context of “fine,” probably.) “Are we dancing, or what? I didn’t agree to just stand here with you.”

“Yeah, okay, then.” Hiccup breathed out a note of laughter as she lead them both deeper into the loose throngs of couples slowly swaying in time to the music, but he seemed to remain the slightest bit distant while she did so. It was mildly concerning, to be frank--though Astrid did manage to draw him back to the present by gingerly setting her palms atop his shoulders.

At least, she assumed that she did, solely based upon the way he blinked owlishly at her before actually placing his hands respectfully on her waist. She could sense a slight hesitation there, but it was endearing! Astrid didn’t think that tentativeness could be that cute, but it worked for Hiccup.

A lot of things worked for Hiccup--even being a sarcastic asshole when they first met still landed him in among her favor.

It was a little strange, given Astrid was so used to the mouthy, downright sassy ways of Hiccup Haddock that she had grown to known over the course of the past few days. To see him so oddly timid and at a loss for anything smart to say was slightly off putting, seeing as only moments ago, they were exchanging casual snark as if it were their secret language.

...Huh.

So perhaps it was a secret language of sorts, known only by them. It was kind of… cute. In a sickening way that Astrid thought she’d never experience again as a high school graduate. Hiccup simply seemed to have a thing for (pleasantly) surprising her--that night at his house, back in the gardens… The more she reflected upon it, the more rushed and unorthodox their current relationship felt. Astrid knew she was racing against a clock here, but it was only then that she acknowledged it--in the middle of a dance.

“You’re thinking,” he pointed out, snapping her out of her thoughts. Astrid’s eyes widened for a moment, but she lowered them wryly after another.

“No--really? What gave you that idea?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just the contemplative expression and look of complete adoration you’re wearing while you stare at me...”

“Shut it, nerd,” Astrid snorted and gently slapped her hand against the corner of his shoulder before re-looping both of them around his neck. “You’re the one who’s distant. What are you thinking about, anyway?” She asked… Even though she already had a semblance of an idea.

Hiccup responded with nothing more than a strained half-smile and the briefest glance over his shoulder in the direction of his parents. Astrid furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, only seconds before opening it again to respond--

Then? Oh, then the beat of the song picked up, and Hiccup started humming. He dismissed her concerns with a rushed “Later; don’t worry about it right now,” then proceeded to move his palms from her sides to hold her hands instead. A strange way to dance with someone, but oddly fitting.

“What are you--woah-kay!” Astrid exclaimed. Hiccup swung her in a wide circle, and she would have tripped, if it hadn’t been for the way he pulled her back in toward him, surprisingly in time to the music. They were chest to chest, face to face--but only for a moment, because Hiccup looped and crossed his arms around her so that he ended up behind her. She had a growing suspicion that he was more than just familiar with the song playing, and when she looked in front of her to see his parents dancing in a similar manner, the fractures he set in her heart got a little worse, all in the very best, crushing way. He twirled her around, and she was at the complete mercy of his lead.

And she liked--no, she was loving it.

Yet again, they stood before one another. They could have kept a penny suspended between their torsos. Or--a magazine, because that’s a little more Princess Diaries. And with the way they fell into the fountain… Everything sort of was unfolding in a fantasy-esque, family-friendly romcom sort of way.

The smile he wore didn’t help either.

“Dancing, obviously. Do I look like I slow dance?” He inquired. Astrid tried not to notice the way his lips quirked up at one and, but she noticed anyway.

She didn’t know why she was thinking about it now, but she realized that she’d miss him--the turns of phrase conversation loaded with sarcasm and dry humor, the particular and unique cadence of his speech, his lopsided smile...

“No, not really,” Astrid admitted, gently squeezing his hands. She was breathless--not because she was winded, but because she hadn’t known that she was holding onto her breath in the first place. “You look like the type to do interpretive dance to the Top 15 in your bedroom when nobody’s watching.”

Hiccup laughed. It was a low laugh, reserved for her, but somehow unreserved in general at the same time. She noticed how his eyes would crinkle in the corners when he did, and she noticed the little slit between his two front teeth, and she noticed how bright his eyes were in comparison to how dull they seemed earlier--

Her heart clenched and her chest cinched around it.

This was so, so unfair.

Unfair to her heart.

Unfair to her head.

Unfair to him.

How could she do this to him? Hiccup looked like he was so… Happy. Finally at peace, despite the rocky waters he treaded with his parents--especially at that very moment. While it wasn’t as if Astrid herself didn’t feel that same swelling joy bubble in her stomach and threaten to spill from her lips in the form of a laugh, she simply couldn’t bring herself to let go again.

That’s what she did in the gardens--let go. She let go of her inhibitions, of her worries and her fears and her hesitations about getting involved with Hiccup. That felt like the right thing to do at the moment, because he was so close and she couldn’t stop staring at forest green eyes slashed with gorgeous gold.

Right then wasn’t any different. She looked at him--really, really looked at him--and felt… Terrible.

Because in the matter of less than a day, she would be gone. She would be on a plane back to her own city, which was an entirely different type of charming in comparison to the little town of Berk. She’d be gone, and Hiccup would be alone again, and he’d be living in a house with his married mother and father without her to be there for him if he needed to get out of a hairy situation. She found comfort in the fact that he still had his gang of friends to back him up, but the more she thought about it…

Was she really going to do this? Make him think that she was capable of supporting him, in the way that she knew he needed to be supported? And then just up and leave town, leave Hiccup. While the modern 21st century made distance much more bearable, Astrid didn’t think that cellphones could fill her absence if she let things continue at the rate that they were.

...The young Hofferson soon realized that she already started down that path. She already made that mistake.

Astrid had been so sure of herself only an hour or so earlier, too. She kissed him, and they kissed again, and then they kissed again. Her lips tingled when she thought about those seemingly endless moments, where Hiccup firmly held her close, as if she’d slip away if he didn’t do so.

It struck her then that he would be right, if that was what he was thinking--

“...Astrid?”

It took her a moment to snap back to reality, but when she did, Astrid realized that Hiccup was pressing his forehead to hers--she realized that he was staring intently, almost concernedly, right at her.

“Astrid,” he began again. She realized that she didn’t even respond to him earlier, and instead went silent. At a loss for words, she searched his eyes and worried expression, only to end up blankly gazing and gaping at him. “What’s wrong? Did... I--are you, are you okay?”

...That just wasn’t right at all. The knife in her chest was just being viciously twisted around at this point.

None of this wasn’t supposed to be about her--making it about her had never been the intention. She knew that, despite Hiccup’s exterior, he was hurting inside… Because, really, how could she not know that? With the way the past few hours played out, it was impossible for him to just be… Okay. An emotional rollercoaster like that had to have impacted him somehow, because it certainly hit her like a truck.

And she was just the wedding planners’ daughter.

Astrid’s gaze briefly strayed from Hiccup’s as she looked over his shoulder again, over at his parents, who were currently beaming at each other. Guilt gnawed at her heartstrings.

He was the newlywed’s son, for God’s sake! The unprofessionalism behind cultivating a relationship with Hiccup Haddock definitely occurred to her, but she elected to ignore it. Now, however, despite her heart, she didn’t know if she made the right decision.

Hiccup furrowed his brow as held her impossibly closer as he pursed his lips, and for a moment, it almost looked like he was going to kiss her.

...So she squeezed her eyes shut, because she couldn’t stand to look at him any longer, and leaned back.

“Stop.”

Her voice sounded unnaturally quiet, lacking its usual volume and tone. She wills it to be firmer, but it proves to be more difficult in execution, what with the way Astrid felt his posture stiffen.

“Astrid.”

“Please,” she says, starting to duck her head and pull herself out of his embrace. “You should talk to your parents,” Astrid further implores him, having succeeded in her endeavors, and also having opened her eyes to look back at Stoick and Valka Haddock.

“Thanks for the suggestion, but I kind of don’t feel like dying young,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. Despite his words, he looked a little lost--a little stunned with her actions. Astrid shook her head at him, almost vehemently.

“Then if you won’t talk to them, then stop,” she implores him further, simultaneously taking one step backward. Her heels hit the floor.

Click.

“I don’t--I don’t know what I did, or--or if I said something, but Astrid, what are you--”

She’s looking through him now, at his parents. At this point, the only pair of people not moving in time with the music--themselves--had caught the attention of Valka and Stoick Haddock. Astrid wanted to pry her gaze away from his parents, wanted to turn to Hiccup and take his hand and explain to him her reasons for believing that a relationship would only end up hurting them more.

He needed someone who’d be there for him. Astrid knew that she was more than capable of being that someone, but Hiccup… Hiccup didn’t need someone like her.

He needed his parents.

“You need to talk to them,” she finally manages, looking intently at him.

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“It’s definitely the obvious one, though.”

A beat of silence.

“...What are you saying?”

“You’ve spent the past day, maybe weeks for all I know, avoiding them. I understand that you’re upset, but--”

Astrid was shocked to find that he gently took her hand again. He held it in both of his palms, in a manner that she didn’t consider inappropriately insistent, but more along the lines of tooth-rottingly sweet.

“My problems aren’t your problems,” he tried to tell her, “so why do you keep worrying about them? Why do you keep trying to fix things that can’t be fixed?” Astrid barely suppresses her scoff as she pulls her hand away.

“Because they can be fixed! Because if this--if we’re supposed to be anything, then they’re going to be my problems.” She winces, because she fails to include that the hypothetical she used was actually…Improbable. “I’m trying to be the rational one here, Hiccup. I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon and we’ll probably never see each other again after I go--”

“That’s what this is about? You don’t think that--”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish.

Astrid eliminated the space between them one last time and pressed a kiss to the slant of his surprise-parted lips knowing that it very well may be the last one. Her eyes were lowered after that, because she knew that if she looked at him, or even his parents, she’d be compelled to stay. Instead of doing such, she whispered an apology, then spun around and walked briskly off of the dance floor, diving headfirst into the crowd of people.

She thought she was doing the right thing--she thought she had Hiccup’s best interests at heart.

So why did it hurt so much?

...Astrid came to Berk for a job.

And it was high time that she got back to it.

#my writing #IT'S DONE #and it's about time jfc #sorry for the wait my dudes #hiccstrid #swas