[fic] you fill my lungs with sweetness (and you fill my head with you) (parts twenty six to fifty)

[afterthedance]

twenty eight. You don't make it the first time you try for university, but you get in on your second attempt. You'll be twenty this year, and you're glad to be able to move out, especially since things have been terribly awkward with Nico ever since... Well, ever since. And well, sure, Helsinki isn't too far away from Espoo, but at least you'll be getting your own place to yourself. You'll be alone, and you'd be able to think better. Focus. Something to that effect. Without Nico. twenty nine. You go home for Christmas, making sure you arrive on the twenty third and leave on the twenty sixth. The last thing you want is to have more contact with Nico, and when you hug in front of your parents, it's brief and awkward. (Or at least, that's what you'd like to think, because there it is again, the terrible feeling building in the pit of your stomach that you thought you had thrown away a long time ago. That feeling you had when he had lain against you, head against your shoulder, that feeling that had completely suffocated you that day when you had caught him in your bed. You swallow hard, you push the feeling back down but you choke on it and the aftertaste is awful.) When you're in the kitchen with your mother, she looks at you and there's something in her eyes that you can't quite place. 'You've lost weight,' she says and you nod. Of course you have. You haven't been eating well on your own, even though really, you should treat yourself better. You're capable of treating yourself better. You help her in the kitchen as she prepares dinner. You haven't done this for a while now, and you tense when Nico comes into the kitchen to help. Your mother doesn't miss how your shoulders tense when he brushes past you. Neither does she miss how you've barely spoken to one another ever since your return. 'Is there something wrong with the both of you?' she asks. She sounds tired, and you look at your feet. 'I know you haven't been... Close, for the past few years, but-' You snort, and your mother sighs. 'Kimi.' 'It's just...' you frown, looking for the right words to say. 'Growing up. Things change.' 'Right,' your mother says wryly. You give her a thin smile. thirty. You call back more often after Christmas. Okay, once every two weeks isn't all that much but it's something, given how you used to call back every once a month. Nico answers the phone, and you nearly drop your phone in shock. He tells you to hold on, and there's a quiver in his voice. Or maybe there isn't, and you're just projecting. Your father talks to you for a bit and then your mother comes on the line, asking about school. You tell her you're fine, and you tell her that you're good for this semester and you ask about her garden. There's a brief silence before you hear the audible click of a door. You frown because your mother's now talking about Nico, about how he's been bringing quite a fair bit of friends back home, how he's always staying out at his friends' houses and returning late. Your mother says it's unsettling because he was never that way until you left, and his so-called friends always seem to be uncomfortable afterwards when they meet your parents. 'Maybe you should talk to Nico after all,' your mother says softly. 'You're brothers, after all.' 'I don't have anything to say to him,' you snap. 'It's none of my business.' Your mother chastises you and you're barely listening because inside you're bristling. The uncomfortable feeling from Christmas is back again, pulling you down below the surface and you're about to drown in it and god, it's not like you don't want to say anything because you still remember what you had caught Nico doing and fuck, fuck, fuck. When you hang up, you search for Nico on Facebook. You're friends there and you hardly use Facebook. More like, you have it only because it's easier to have it and pretend you care. Nico's profile picture looks different from what you remember. It's a shot of him with a bunch of friends in a darkened room? Out on the streets at night? You can't really tell. You click through the photos and they're all the same, Nico in fitted t-shirts, mostly white, with skin-tight jeans that look like they've been painted on. He's got friends, no, people all around him and you feel something rise at the back of your throat as you look at those photos. You tell yourself it's normal. You're just being an overprotective older brother, thinking you shouldn't be letting them put their hands all over you like that because they might eat you up and you wouldn't even know what's coming. (But deep down, you know what it is and it terrifies you because it sounds a lot like that should be me and you know it shouldn't be you because you're his brother) thirty one. You go drinking and clubbing and you get with girls, some guys too. Sometimes it doesn't matter and sometimes you end up with your flatmate telling you to shut the fuck up because it's four in the morning and he's trying to sleep while you're getting laid in the next room. Sometimes you jerk off, you close your eyes and you try to think of the girls you've had, the girl with the long brown hair and how good she was at riding you, or that dark haired boy you had at the club who'd sucked you off without asking for anything in return and you had forgotten to get his number. You try to think of them, you really do, but all you get is that fateful day, your brother touching himself in your bed, Nico Nico Nico. thirty two. The last person you expect to show up at your flat is Nico. 'Why the fuck are you here.' The words are out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself. 'Can I come in?' He's wearing a light brown coat that reaches his knees and skin-tight jeans and a pair of boots and his blonde hair is longer than you remember it being, stopping just above his shoulders. It's close to midnight. You can hardly refuse. 'I'm calling home,' you say loudly afterwards, when the door's shut and he's taking off his coat. 'You're going back tomorrow. You can have the sofa.' 'Your bed's big enough for the two of us.' You turn and look at him, but he's nowhere to be found. He must be in your room. Shit. 'Get out,' you say, dragging him out of your room. His skin is warm under your fingertips, and you pull away, like you've been burnt. 'What are you doing. Why are you here. What do you want.' 'We can share a bed,' he says, voice quiet. Your eyes narrow. 'What are you, twelve? It's not thundering outside. Take the sofa.' There's a flash of anger in his eyes, and you bite your tongue. That was a low blow. 'Fuck you,' he says. You want to punch him. You really do. But later on, when you're lying in your bed, you replay his words over and over again fuck you fuck you fuck you and you fall asleep, thinking of him on your bed again, touching himself all those years ago. thirty three. You dream of a hot wet mouth for you to thrust into but oh, someone's holding your hip down so they won't choke, they've got one hand around the base of your cock as they pull back, flicking their tongue over the tip of your cock and it feels so good, you haven't had a dream this vivid before and you moan because fuck- It's not a dream. Nico's lying in between your legs, sucking you off. 'What are you doing,' you ask even though it's painfully obvious. Your voice is caught in your throat as he looks up at you, eyes wide, lips wrapped around your cock. He looks positively obscene. 'Why?' His only reply is to pull back, lapping at the tip of your cock and you try to get up, you want to push him away but he presses down on your hip and you groan. 'Is it me?' he asks finally. He swallows, looking at you, eyes searching. 'If it's me I can change, is it because I'm not a girl? I'll wear a skirt, I'll do anything-' 'What the fuck are you talking about,' you manage, voice strangled as he starts jerking you off, hand moving in slow, upward strokes. 'You're my brother.' 'So you don't want me?' he asks, eyes narrowed. 'Fuck, Nico, I-' 'I'm a freak, right? For wanting this with you?' God he's serious, he's babbling about how he's so fucked up for wanting this with you and he's not stopping and fuck. 'Shut up,' you say, breathless. There it is again, the ugly feeling in your gut rears its head and spreads all around you. This time you don't fight it. This time, you let it pull you under. 'Just shut up. If you're fucked up then what am I because fuck, I want you too.' thirty four. You end up coming all over Nico's cheeks and lips and god, it's embarrassing as fuck but he looks good like this and at the back of your mind all you can think of is fuck, how many people have had the opportunity to look at him like this? It's a terrible feeling and you try to push it aside but all you can think of is how you don't ever want anyone else to look at him like this, looking terrified and vulnerable as he looks at you with a wounded look in his eyes, as if there's a crack in his usual confidence. 'Nico,' you begin but you stop, because god, you don't even know what you can say at this point. 'I'm sorry,' he says, he's about to pull away and you swallow hard because fuck, this is it. You pull him up and you kiss him on the lips, tasting yourself on him. God you hate tasting yourself but this is different, this is you deciding that yeah, fuck this shit, if you're going to hell then you're going all the way. Nico's rutting against you, you can feel his erection against your thigh and you reach in between the both of you, touching him through his underwear and he clings to you, hips bucking against your hand. He makes the cutest noises ever and he blushes oh so prettily and it doesn't take long before he's coming, crying out as he buries his face against your chest. thirty five. 'You need to go,' you say later on, when you're both sitting in the kitchen, eating lunch. You're having pasta, and it feels like you're sixteen and he's thirteen all over again, shovelling food into your mouths as you wait for your parents to come home. Nico looks up at you, eyes brimming with tears and you grit your teeth, swallowing hard. 'You don't want me,' he says slowly. 'It's not... I just...' you look away, frustrated. God you don't even know what this is, or maybe you do — your seventeen year old brother has just given you a blowjob and you had jerked him off in return and it had been mind-numbingly good. But the fact remains that he's still your brother. It's wrong. It shouldn't feel like this. Fuck, you should've never let it happen. 'I need to think.' 'If you don't want me you can just tell me, I can-' 'Fuck no, Nico, I-' 'I know I fucked up, I'm sorry, I-' 'You're my brother,' you hiss. 'We can't do this. It's wrong.' 'Kimi-' 'Go home, Nico. I'm sorry.' Nico stares at his food, silent. You're not hungry any more, and you've still got half a plate of pasta left. 'Will you come back?' he asks suddenly. He reaches for your hand, but you pull away. You don't want him to touch you. You don't trust yourself not to do anything to him if he touches you. God, you're so fucked. 'Will you come home for me?' 'I...' you trail off. 'You just. Focus on school. I'll see.' He's shaking, like he's trying hard not to cry and god he's so fragile like this. You want to reach out and pull him into your arms, to tell him that everything's going to be alright, that even if he falls apart he'd still have you to put him back together again. But it's ridiculous, who the fuck do you think you are? So you shut up and look away, ignoring his choked sobs. thirty six. You don't go back home during summer break. Instead you go to Denmark for three weeks on a summer exchange and you backpack through most of the Baltic countries before returning to Finland two weeks before the new semester begins. Your parents are upset, of course. They had thought that you would return home during the long break and this time, your father's the one who asks you if something had happened when Nico had visited you during the previous semester. You fidget in your seat, uncomfortable. Thank goodness you're not on Skype, so they're unable to see your face. All you can think of is Nico sucking you off, his warm mouth on your cock and shit, you're getting hard just thinking about it and you don't want this, you're not supposed to get aroused thinking about your brother. 'No, it's all fine,' you say hastily, hanging up as soon as you can. (But it's not fine, because you end up jerking off in the shower, and when you close your eyes all you can see beneath your eyelids is Nico) thirty seven. You have sixteen missed calls and twenty three messages on your phone, not to mention countless number of messages on Skype and they're all from Nico. You don't know how to answer. You don't want to answer. You feel sick when you think about what you've done to Nico, how you let him suck you off, how you touched him. What sort of fucked up brother are you to have done something like that to him? But at the same time, you can't bring yourself to block him so you let things be. You sleep around, you pick up girls, you pick up boys, and one morning you wake up with a pounding headache and there's a half-naked boy sitting in bed next to you, reading what looks like Psychology notes. 'Hey,' he says. He's got blonde hair and green eyes. He reminds you of Nico. God, you hate yourself. 'Do you want breakfast?' he asks, putting his notes down as he gets up. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. You swallow hard. 'Yeah,' you say, voice hoarse. You look down at his notes, waiting for him to return. The Westermarck Effect, it reads. You don't give a shit about Psychology, really, it's not what you're studying but something there catches your eye. The Westermarck effect is a hypothetical psychological effect through which people who live in close domestic proximity during the first few years of their lives become desensitised to later sexual attraction. The Westermarck effect operates during the period from birth to the age of six. When proximity during this critical period does not occur — for example, where a brother and sister are brought up separately, never meeting one another — they may find one another highly sexually attractive when they meet as adults, according to the hypothesis of genetic sexual attraction. It doesn't make you feel any better about yourself. thirty eight. You tell yourself that it's perfectly normal to look at whatever appears on your Facebook news feed. You tell yourself that it's perfectly fine for Nico to be going out with his friends. It's perfectly alright for that boy to have his hand on Nico's waist and for that girl to be groping his thigh so openly in the photos. You close the window, only to find that you've got one hand fisted tight. You're not okay. thirty nine. You go home during the winter break, and Nico's the one who opens the door. He helps you with your things, telling you that your parents are out and they'll be back in a bit. When he leaves your bags in your room, he lingers in the doorway, biting on his lower lip. 'Yeah?' 'I...' he starts, looking away. 'I'm sorry. For what I did. Just. Forget it. I fucked up. I'm sorry.' 'Nico-' 'I don't. I don't want it to be awkward between us,' he says in a rush. 'I don't. I never. I'm sorry, I just. Just forget it.' He turns and runs back to his room, but you chase after him, catching his arm. He looks at you like he's just been burnt and you pull him into a hug. 'I'm sorry,' you say, voice quiet. His face is buried against your shoulder and he's still in your arms, like he's afraid to put his arms around you. 'I thought I could do it but I can't and fuck.' You take a deep breath. It's now or never. 'I want you,' you say. 'I'm sorry.' forty. You end up kissing him, stumbling over your feet as you move into his room. He trips, taking you down with him and then he's looking up at you, lying on his bed while you're above him, staring right at him. 'Hey,' he says. There's a shy smile playing at his lips as he props himself up on his elbows and leans in to kiss you. You groan, kissing back, one hand fisted in his hair as he parts his lips, letting you taste him. When you pull apart, he's breathless, chest heaving beneath you and you shift so that you're able to take a good look at him. His hair's a mess and his t-shirt is riding up his stomach and you lick your lips. 'Like what you see?' he asks, reaching to pull his t-shirt all the way up and your fingers are shaking when you press your hand to his bare skin. The doorbell rings and you jump, leaping up from your place on his bed. 'They're back,' Nico says, tugging his t-shirt down. Your parents. Oh god. What are you doing. What have you done. forty one. You try to restrain yourself when you're around Nico, but it's difficult when he touches you accidentally-on-purpose all the time. Your parents are delighted with your change in behaviour around Nico, and your mother tells you that she's pleased with how the both of you are back to normal now. As close as you were before. God, you feel guilty as fuck when you hear that because this isn't what it is. This isn't a normal relationship two brothers should be having. Someone normal shouldn't be thinking of fucking his brother into the mattress at every available opportunity. forty two. You go to Nico's room in the middle of the night and god, this is probably the stupidest thing you'll ever do in your entire life. 'Lock the door,' he tells you, and you do so, closing the door gingerly behind you. You're so screwed if your parents find out, and you can only hope that they won't wake up any time soon even though well, who wakes up at two in the morning anyway? The nightlight by Nico's bed is still switched on, and you move to turn it off but Nico shakes his head. 'Come here,' he says, and you let out an audible gasp when you lift the blanket. He's naked beneath the covers. No wonder the heating's turned up in his room. 'You're crazy,' you say and he fists his hand in your t-shirt, pulling you into a kiss and you shift, so that you're able to climb onto his bed. 'Crazy for you,' he says, breathless when he pulls away and you laugh. It's ridiculously cheesy, but the way Nico says it is painfully earnest and it tugs at your heart. 'Come on,' he says, pulling you down and you end up on your side with him kissing you. He takes your hand and places it on his hip and he murmurs against your lips 'Put your hands all over me.' And really, who are you to refuse? You run your hands all over his body, every available inch of skin you can touch and it's smooth under your palms. You trace the curve of his body, from where his waist tapers in to his hips to his arse, you rub circles into the dip of his spine and he moans, rutting against you. He's hard and his cock leaks pre-come all over your t-shirt and it feels sticky against your skin but fuck, you don't care, not with him like this — cradling your head with one hand, one leg wrapped around your waist, clinging to you for dear life, as if he's afraid that he'd lose you if he lets go. You'd give anything to be able to learn every part of him right now, to learn what makes him moan and jerk and cry out in pleasure, but you're not going to be able to do it tonight because you know that you've got to get back to your room as soon as possible. 'Kimi,' he whines, hips bucking forward to thrust weakly against your stomach. 'Shh,' you say, dragging your hand over his arse, up his back to his shoulder blades. He moans, shuddering beneath your touch, pressing closer. You're not going to fuck him. At least, not tonight. You tug at your boxers, pulling it down to free your cock and you shift so that you can get one hand in between the both of you. He cries out when you touch him, moaning incoherently when he feels your cock against his and he rocks his hips, eager for more friction. God he's vocal and he's beautiful like this, lips kiss swollen and parted, looking thoroughly debauched, and it's all for you, all because of you. You've had many others before but you've never had anyone quite like Nico and fuck, you know you're never going to have anyone quite like him. When he comes into your hand, he lets out a choked sob, burying his face where your neck meets your shoulder and he lets out low whines as you continue stroking him even after he orgasms, twitching in your arms. When you lift your hand to his lips to lick he leans in and flicks his tongue over your middle finger. He looks at you like he's waiting for your approval and he lets out a contented sigh when you lean in to kiss him with your fingers in between your lips. God, you're well and truly fucked. forty three. You leave for your flat three days before university starts. Unlike the year before, Nico sees you off at the train station, and he catches your hand, thumb rubbing small circles into the inside of your wrist. 'Come back soon,' he says, voice soft before he lets go, hand falling to his side. Your parents don't catch his actions, and you bite the inside of your cheek when they return, pulling you into a hug. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and he looks down at the floor as you get ready to leave. 'I'll come back during summer,' you say. 'See you,' he says, waving as you board the train. He's smiling and he looks beautiful, golden hair shining in the sunlight. You want to freeze this moment in time, to keep in your heart as something to warm you when your bones are weary and aching. It feels so right, but so wrong. He's your brother, but really, by now, you're too far out to care anymore. forty four. Text messages from Nico about how his day's going and how much he misses you segue into emails with photos of himself attached and Skype calls with him fumbling with his webcam and not quite knowing what to say. He's quite happy just to look at you in silence, cupping his cheek with one hand, hearing your voice as you talk about anything and everything. But of course, things don't stay like this for long, and when he starts appearing on your laptop screen with his hair damp, sticking to his skin with nothing but a towel around his waist, you know he wants more. forty five. Each time you get a notification on your laptop for an incoming Skype call from Nico, you jump in your seat both in anticipation and guilt. You know what's coming, no pun intended, and really, it's hot as fuck to have Nico as your personal cam boy, but at the same time you feel awful because he's your eighteen year old brother and the fact isn't going to change no matter how many times you do this. 'I'm on your bed now,' he says, holding his laptop out so you can see that he's in your room. 'Nico-' 'I'm alone,' he says, setting the laptop down next to him. He looks at you and licks his lips. 'In fact, I'll be alone until tonight.' 'Ahh,' you say, watching as he settles down on to your bed. 'I miss you,' he says. His head is on your pillow and he turns, burying his face in it, inhaling. 'Smells like you,' he murmurs and there's a lump in your throat as you watch him like this. 'I miss you too,' you echo, and he turns towards the camera, smiling. 'Did you think of me?' he asks, shifting on the bed. He looks down, eyelashes lowered as he pulls up his t-shirt, slowly, slowly until it's above his nipples. There's a tent in his boxers and you watch as he cups himself through the material. 'Yeah,' you answer, hardly daring to breathe. 'Sometimes I imagine that you're the one touching me instead,' he says, hips jerking forward, rutting against his hand. 'Fuck.' You've got one hand in your boxers now, fuck you're so turned on that it's ridiculous and Nico's got a lazy grin as he looks at you from the screen. 'I want to see you,' he says, pouting. 'Show me?' You groan, grabbing your laptop off your study desk. You put it down on your bed, it's an awkward angle but it'll do. You lift your hips, sliding your boxers off you and he looks at you, biting on his lower lip. 'Well?' 'If you insist,' he says. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, pulling it down, freeing his cock. 'Um,' he says, turning slightly and you're treated to a lovely view of his arse. You miss grabbing his arse as he kisses you, miss squeezing and kneading as he squirms beneath your touch, begging for more. When he turns back to you once more you frown, squinting at the screen. It's a bottle of lube. He parts his legs, pushing back against your pillow to support his back and you swallow hard, watching as he presses his fingers to his entrance. 'Sometimes I imagine that it's your fingers instead of my own,' he says, panting as he pushes one slick finger in. He closes his eyes, catching his breath before starting to thrust shallowly with one finger, then two. 'Sometimes I imagine that it's your cock.' You grunt, one hand steadily pumping your cock as you watch him finger himself open. He looks like a hot, filthy mess on your bed, and god, what wouldn't you give to be there with him, right now. He cries out as he pushes a third finger in, fucking himself as you watch. 'Wish you'd, ahh, fuck me,' he says, panting. 'I can take it.' 'Of course you can,' you growl. You're not going to last like this, watching him and you know he's watching himself too, in the corner of the screen. If you're ever going to fuck him in your room, you're definitely going to make use of the full length mirror in your closet. 'You're a good boy, aren't you? You can take anything.' Nico nods. His movements are faster now, his thighs are spread wide apart and you can see his body quivering and fuck, he's right, he shouldn't have to fuck himself with his fingers, you should be there, pushing your cock into his tight entrance, making him moan in pleasure. When he comes, he calls out your name and fuck, he's made a complete mess out of your bed. But it's worth it. Of course it's worth it. You don't think you've come any harder than this before. 'Come home soon,' he says sleepily. His boxers are around his ankles and his shirt's still pushed up his chest and there's come all over his stomach. 'Don't fall asleep,' you say, waving at the camera and he nods, shifting slightly on your bed. 'You need to get out of my room. Now. Don't forget to clean it!' 'Okay,' he murmurs, waving a hand at you. His eyes are closed, and he's tired. So much for teenage boys and their stamina. Bullshit. forty six. It's not all about sex. Okay well yeah, you're attracted to Nico's body but it's not just that. Sometimes when he falls asleep in front of his laptop, you think, what wouldn't you give to be back there, to be able to carry him back to his bed and put a blanket over him so he wouldn't get too cold. When he tells you about the fights that your parents still have from time to time there's a flicker of fear in his eyes, like he's afraid that everyone will leave him eventually and you want so much to reach through the computer screen to tell him it's going to be fine, no one's leaving. See, the thing is, you know just how fragile he is. He doesn't look like it, nor does he act like it in front of anyone else, but you know it for what it is and you know that you'll treat him just right. You know how to touch him so he wouldn't break, and you know that you'd be careful enough so that he'd always be safe. And when you think of all those photos he had on Facebook, that horrible feeling rises up inside you again, because you can't stand the thought of someone else being careless with Nico. If you're going to protect him, then you'll have to do this, even if it's wrong. At the end of the day, he's still your brother, and you're definitely going to hell. forty seven. Near the end of your fourth semester in university, Nico calls and tells you excitedly that he has applied to your university. He sounds pleased with himself, and you can hear the pride in your father's voice when he talks to you. You feel guilty, as always. What's new? Your father suggests that Nico move in with you if he manages to get in, and the word yes is out of your mouth before you can even think. You're fucked if Nico comes over to stay with you. You're never going to be able to keep your hands off him. But that's what Nico wants, and that's what you want... Right? forty eight. Nico gets in on his first try. He'll be doing Aeronautical Engineering in your university, and your previous flatmate moves out in early June after his graduation. You help with moving in at the end of June, and by July the two of you are more or less settled. forty nine. 'Here.' You open the door to Nico's room, and while it isn't much, you tried. It's vaguely similar to his room at home, and Nico looks around, inspecting the room when he realises that there's a full length mirror by the wardrobe. 'Really?' He raises an eyebrow and you shrug. 'You had one at home,' you say. He leans in, peering at his reflection in the mirror, then he turns to you, smirking. 'You put this up because you wanted to fuck me against it, didn't you?' 'Ahh,' you say, unable to hide a grin. 'You got me.' 'Do you want to try it now?' And that's how you end up with him pressed up against the glass, hands fisted against the cool surface as you rock into him. He's louder than ever now that he doesn't have to keep it down and you love it, and when you reach for his cock, pressing the tip against the mirror he lets out a delicious moan, whining as you fuck him harder so that it's almost as if he's rubbing up against his reflection against the mirror. You'll have to clean the mirror up afterwards but for now, there're better things for you to attend to. He's sitting slumped against you on the floor, shaking in your arms as you continue touching him, mewling with his lips pressed to your neck, telling you that he can't take any more. But he can, of course he can, and your fingers slip into him easily, what with how he's already slicked open. When he comes for the second time, he bites down on your neck, leaving an angry red mark that he licks at apologetically later on. fifty. At night, you lie in bed together. Nico has one leg thrown over your right leg, and you've got an arm curled protectively around his waist. He had been right all along. Your bed is definitely big enough for two. 'Kimi?' he asks, voice soft. 'Hmm?' 'Thank you for letting me stay,' he says, leaning up to place a kiss on your neck on the bite mark he had left. 'Won't let you go again,' you say, holding him closer. 'Love you,' he whispers. Your breath catches in your throat. You look down at him, hardly daring to breathe, only to realise that the silly boy has fallen asleep. He loves you. He's your brother. You've fallen, and you'll never be able to get up. 'Love you too,' you say, kissing his forehead. You close your eyes, letting sleep claim you with Nico in your arms. (one to twenty seven | twenty eight to fifty)

notes:
-written for ispun for this understeers prompt.
-thank you so much ellie_mayflower, moderncouchpotato, detentionlevel and pisaroi for all your help ;____;
-title from bloom by the paper kites.
-'going to hell, let me pack a bag first.' courtesy of detentionlevel u___u
-part forty two was inspired by this gif (nsfw). it even looks like the both of them, i'm speechless.
-the westermarck effect (definition taken from wikipedia)
-this fucking fic has consumed my life oh god the slow burn ugh anyway just imagine this kimi with this nico at the end of the fic like ahahaha omfg bye orz