#I couldn’t bear finishing this so this messy sketch is all I could do

[myoonmii]

Help me! cherik brainrot is here

[bitchassbucky]

Ｂｏｔｈｅｒ

📎Word Count: 2.2k

📎Warning/s: smut! minors DNI. mean!fuckboy!bucky x f!reader. unprotected sex. little to no foreplay, because, well, he just wants to get his dick wet. denied orgasm :( no aftercare too lol he’s an asshole in this one. messy facial! some heckin’ words.

📎A/N: jesus fuckiNG CHRIST okay this is one of my longer fics, i’m trying to get back into writing long fics again so, bear with me. fuckboy!bucky playlist to accompany you while reading this <3 

📎reblogs, likes, and comments are all welcomed! shower me with validation pls

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The bass line and the drumbeat made your heart pump in sync. The room reeked of cheap drinks and expensive perfume—sweaty patrons swirling, mingling around, keeping their drinks cold, their hearts warm.

Chatter peaked when the band finished the song, a round of applause rising the frontman’s ego. The spotlight shone brightly on him, the stage lights hitting his back, lighting up his silhouette with pinks and purples.

He beams with adrenaline. All perfect smiles.

Slinging his stickered guitar to the side, he speaks into the mic, “thank you all for coming. We’ve been The Commandos. Goodnight!” The frontman flashes his million-dollar, megawatt smile and bows, earning another applause from the audience.

The rest of the band slinked out the back, bowing, giving out air-kisses and waves. Another band piles onto the stage, waving hello to the gathering crowd.

You sigh, the bottom of your shoes sticking to the dirty floor of the bar. The overhead lights of the bar a bright yellow contrast to the stage’s red hue. The beer in your hand condensing, the tips of your fingers damp in the process. The warmth of the place piling on your impatience.

Pushing yourself off the bar, you make your way to the back, one thing echoing in your mind. Familiar faces crowd your vision, sending a polite smile their way.

A door stands in front of you, the wood stained with stickers and posters and autographs. You knock twice before turning the knob.

“Where’s Bucky?” You say, leaning against the door frame. The door slowly swings open.

A blonde man, what’s-his-face, looks at you and puts down a pair of drumsticks, “‘Dunno what to tell ya, but he’s not here.”

Your roll your eyes, sending him a mirthless smile, “yeah, obviously. I was hoping if you could tell him to meet me tonight.”

Steve—you suddenly remembered his name—eyed you head to foot, a smirk plastered on his face, “Sounds important. Why don’t you hang out with us while waiting for him?”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “no, thanks. I’ll meet him outside.”

Steve makes a face, quirking a light brow to the rest of the group. All of them sharing the same look, “alright. Suit yourself.”

The clock ticks just ten minutes after 11, your patience growing thin as a needle. A gaggle of drunk patrons stumbles out the door when you spot him—leather jacket, distressed, ripped pants.

“Where’s my ring?” Without missing a beat.

Bucky’s lips quirk into a smirk, “whoa, baby, we fucked once,” he made you come thrice, “and you’re asking for a ring already?”

A shiver runs up your spine, whether it’s from disgust or something else, it wasn’t clear, “you know what I meant. I left my ring on your nightstand.”

“Deliberately, or…”

Your hands curl up in frustration, your left shin itching, “c’mon. Do you have it or not?” 

His intentionally undone boots scuffed against the floor as he stalks closer to you, his perfume invading your olfactory senses. Oh, he smells good. 

“D’you wanna find out?” His voice dropping a couple of octaves, whispering into the shell of your ear. His thick arms caging you against the bar and the wall. Fuck, he smells really good.

A feeble attempt to make room goes unnoticed, your breath hitching in your throat, “If you don’t have it on you, I’d gladly receive it through the mail.”

Bucky licks his tinged lips, a vein in his temple ticking—the lighting reflecting in his blue eyes, “why would I mail it to you when you can pick it up from my place?”

A rational voice in your head echoes, fighting with your impulse. The closeness of both of your bodies radiating warmth and electricity.

“Fine.” You relented, impulsivity is what got you there in the first place.

The drive to the place shouldn’t take too long, the little shit deliberately took the long way to his place. 

While you sit on the passenger side of his car, he keeps sending you amused glances. As if he couldn’t believe you’d willingly go with him tonight. Well, technically, it really wasn’t part of your plan.

“You wanna get burgers first?” He offers, lowering the music coming from the car’s stereo.

“I wanna get my ring back, Bucky.” You say, reminding him—and yourself—of what your agenda for tonight is.

He dismisses you, as per usual. And pulls over a drive-through of a local burger place, ordering himself a meal.

Instead of getting back out on the highway, he parks the car, rolls down the window, and eats.

“Jesus- fuck, Bucky!” You exclaimed in frustration, “look, if you want to waste my time, then-”

“Then, what?”

“Then go fuck yourself.” You left in a huff, swinging your legs and slamming the car door shut. Hoping that he’d go deaf in one ear.

Making sure that you’re well visible and in a brightly-lit place, you pull out your phone to book an Uber. Only to find Bucky making his way to you for the second time tonight.

“Hey!” Didn’t even used your name to call you, great work!

“I do have it, it’s really back in my place. By the lamp on the bedside table.” The truth lingers out on the night air, waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You meet Bucky’s statement with a wary squint, he meets your rightful doubt with a smile.

“No more stopovers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bucky’s place is a liminal space for you. 

The familiar shadows and corners welcome you, the surfaces on where your bare skin sat hissed at you. You stood by the doorway, not wanting to prolong the journey.

“Hey, c’mon, it’s just me. Sit down.” Exactly, it is him.

You shake your head, leaning by the wall like a stranger, “I’m good. You’re not gonna take long anyway.”

But instead of retrieving your jewelry, his form retreats to the kitchen. A few seconds pass and you hear the crack and hiss of a beer bottle being opened.

“Y’know, I think I’ll just get it myself.” You toe off your shoes, placing them by the door. Your jacket still hanging off your shoulders.

You passed by Bucky, walking towards a love seat, two beers on one hand, “hurry up, then. Got a drink for ya.”

Hazy images play by memory the last time you were here, his damn cologne seeping into your nostrils.

Your head hanging by the edge of the bed as he laps your cunt like a man starved.

The headboard supporting your balance as you bounce up and down his thick cock.

Carpeting that gave your knees burn as he fucked you from behind.

Like an etch-a-sketch, you shake your head to get rid of the scenes that made themselves known.

A shining glint from the bedside table catches your eye, you swipe the ring and stashed it down your jacket pocket.

Coming out of the room with your ring, your slight smile falters as you saw Bucky lounging shirtless. As rightfully so, this is his home anyway.

You steeled yourself despite the heat that’s making its way up to your neck, “uh, I already got it. Thanks, Bucky.”

He shoots you a look—a lingering one. Like a predator about to pounce on prey. His stare chasing the goosebumps under your clothes.

“You sure you wanna go? It’s–” he glances at his phone for the time, “–past midnight.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” The setup.

“How about I take care of you for a change?” The trap.

And then just as sudden as your arrival, you find yourself pressed up against the wall. The agenda of the night has already been forgotten.

Bucky’s mouth finds its temporary home on your jaw, moving down your neck. His large hands already clawing their way under your shirt, the suddenness of the moment stirring the heat in your belly.

Rushed hands and panted breaths meet feverish lips.

The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was the moment where you lost all inhibitions. Your hands fly to his nape, tugging his hair, effectively making him moan into your mouth.

“You know me so well.” He purrs against your lips. Hitching your legs up his hips as he presses you harder against the drywall.

“Lots of people know you so well.” You bite back, knowing for a fact that he sees others behind your back.

“True,” he’s murmuring against your pulse point and you sigh, “you’re my favorite though.”

Your jacket clutters against the floor of his bedroom, along with his pants and your shirt. A yellow stream of light emits from the living room.

Bucky tosses you on the bed, sending the pillows crashing on the floor. Though the room is darkened with curtains, your eyes adjust enough to see him as he pulls your ankles towards him.

His abs are chiseled like a Greek god, his skin tanned, decorated with tattoos. His left nipple adorns a stainless steel piercing. Like the last time, he grabs your hand, trailing it along his torso, letting you feel his deep v-lines.

A lewd moan escapes your lips as you cup his hardening cock through his boxers. Thick and heavy, a perfect fit.

“You like it?” Bucky taunts, jutting his hips against your hand. You squeeze him lightly, earning you a deep groan from the man above you.

His hand suddenly tightens around your throat, pulling your head towards him, “I asked you a question.”

Giving him a small nod and a meek yeah seemed to have sufficed until he flips you on your stomach and forces your face down the bed.

Your skirt joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your panties do too.

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t ya?” Bucky taunts, one thick finger swiping the wetness between your folds. Spreading it around as preparation. A muffled confirmation made him chuckle as he pinches your clit with intention.

Taking his leaking cock out of his boxers, he swipes the bead of precum from his angry-red tip. He takes his sweet, sweet time before even thinking about pushing into your pussy.

Bucky drags the head of his cock up and down your fold, earning a needy moan from you—coating his entire length with your wetness.

After seemingly an eternity on your side, the sheets already imprinted their impression on the side of your cheek. Bucky finally, fucking finally, pushes into you. A short, white-hot burn shoots through your nerves, making you whimper.

His hand stays on the back of your neck, pushing you further down the bed as he moves. Your pussy lips gripping his dick like a vice, “so fucking tight. God.”

Bucky’s chest swelled up with pride as he notices your fingers digging into his sheets, “no one can fuck you this good.”

The bed squeaks with both of your weight shifting as he reaches around you, his fingers working around your bud. The pressure of his upper body makes you gasp with every thrust of his hips.

He continues to work you—his fingers circling tightly on your throbbing clit, his cock nudging the soft, spongy spot in you. Your toes curl with red heat as your orgasm begins to burn up your legs.

“I’m gonna-- ‘m so close,” your pleas fell on deaf ears as Bucky chases his own high. His balls slapping against your skin, his hips stuttering as his cock pulsates inside your velvet walls.

He curses, grabbing your shoulder and flipping you upside, kneeling before you. His hand pumping his dick continuously as it twitches—the veins even more prominent.

“Open your mouth, I’m gonna cum in it.” Bucky orders and you obey. Your fingers finding their way to your abandoned bundle of nerves—your climax threatening to fade away.

Thick ropes of cum shoot over your mouth, painting your lips and chin white as he misses.

“God, fuck, look at your mess.” Bucky sighs, he’s already tucked back into his boxers and handing you a shirt—presumably to clean yourself up.

“You got your ring? Anything else?” The annoyance in his tone is evident. The clock ticks half past midnight.

You dangle your purse in front of him as a gesture, the wind picks up and your shoes are loose on your feet.

“Alright, well, you could wait for your ride here, I guess.” Bucky dropped the act the moment he got his dick in you.

“Yeah, he’s just around the corner. Thanks for the, uh, ring.”

He hums, looking at his phone. His thumbs dancing over the keyboard, “Try not to bother my friends again when you wanna reach me.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or to smack the phone out of his hands, “yeah. Tried calling you but I’m pretty sure you blocked my number.”

A curt laugh echoes out from him, “‘m sorry. Out of habit. You know how it is.”

“Right.” And an awkward beat falls over the both of you.

A black car pulls up by the street and you silently thank the stars. By the time you turn around to at least do the right thing and bid Bucky goodnight, you find yourself facing a closed door.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

A Reading: Part 7 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death/blood/killing, implied canon typical violence, witchcraft, kissing??

Word Count: 2.6k~

We love having a plot- exposition chapter bay-be

"You let them go?"

You couldn't help but wince at the words. You stared at him, at the snow-white haired vampire in front of you. He had been hard to read before, but now his reaction was plainly clear. He was livid. With the way he was staring at you, you thought that he may even look murderous. You gulped, glancing at the others. As if any of them would possibly be any help. 

Paul looked between the two of you, but he lost his usual smile and clamped his mouth shut. Dwayne had sat up as well, but he was staring at David. For a moment, you thought perhaps he was silently communicating with him. Trying to help. Quickly, that thought was dashed from your mind. Your eyes flicked to Marko, who had suddenly become very interested in his own nail-beds. It had only been a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity of silence had passed when you looked back at David and gave him a nod. Before he could say, or do, anything, you started,

"They're just kids-" But David was cutting you off.

"They're hunters." You could hear the anger in his voice. You were half expected him to grab you, to drain you dry and call it a night. "You're the one that saw our deaths. Those kids? They kill us." He said, and you quickly looked away at the reminder. You knew. You were the one that had seen it in the cards. You decided to take a page out of Paul's book. You shut your mouth, avoiding his eyes as you opted to stare at the blanket you were under instead. But David had stopped. He didn't continue, and you knew that you were going to have to plead your case. Change his mind before he decided you weren't worth keeping around.

"I can't just kill a couple of kids, David." You whispered. You almost expected him to grab you, kill you then. You knew he was probably considering it. But when he didn't, you continued. "The course is changed anyways. Marko didn't die. They took Star, but-" And you were cut off again, but this time by the blonde besides you,

"They took Star?" And you looked over at him. You thought that was what you heard, and you gave him a shrug. You weren't sure.

"Laddie?" Dwayne asked, and this question truly had you stumped. They were quick to see that you didn't have any answers, and the boys exchanged a look. Your potential death was put on pause for now, as the boys realized they had a cave to investigate.

You had gone through the cave first. You were supposed to see if they had left any traps, and you were near certain that they hadn't. You remembered how the boys had screamed, running away from potential danger like a couple of terrified toddlers. It made you more sure of your decision, even if you knew David was still pissed. He hadn't spoken to you since you'd left their hideout. The boys were looking around, but all of their stuff was still there. Nothing had been taken or set. Well, besides the two half vampires. Dwayne picked up Laddies bear, holding it as he stood besides the bed where the little boy slept. You watched him, biting your lip.

You wished, for a moment, that you had done something to stop them. But, you couldn't have without leaving the sub-cave. Without abandoning the boys and leaving them for anyone who slipped past you. You went over to him hesitantly. None of the boys had really spoken to you, and you carefully reached to hold Dwaynes hand. He let you, letting out a sigh as he placed the bear back on the bed.

"He won't sleep without it." Dwayne said quietly, and you looked down at the little stuffed animal. Dwayne was frowning, and you could see the distress in his brow. You gave his hand a squeeze. You hadn't known them long. Not long enough to know much about the younger boy. But, you could guess that, to Dwayne, he'd been like a little brother. Perhaps to all of them, you thought as you glanced around the room. You were even considering that, in another timeline, maybe Star had been like their sister. You saw it in the way Paul hung around her room, frowned at the things she left behind as he went through them lightly. You could guess what he was thinking, because you were thinking the same. Would she come back for them when things were all over? When they were dead? You watched as he picked up one of her books, throwing it against the wall. She'd betrayed them. That was clear. Marko was yanking the taller blonde away from Stars room before he had the chance to destroy it. You watched as they passed, and you could practically see the telepathic conversation they were having in their heads.

The pair of you were quiet for a moment before you looked to where David had stopped. He was standing by the chandelier, looking around the room meticulously. Looking for anything that may be out of place. Anything that may harm them.

"They're kids, David." You reminded him. "They probably don't even know how to set up a trap." You said, and, from the glare David gave you, you were almost positive that he wasn't going to respond. He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, before he said one singular cold word.

"Yet."

You sat on the floor of the cave, shuffling your cards. Paul sat besides you on the floor, Dwayne perched on the side of the fountain, and Marko stood. David was busy looking unimpressed in his chair. The boys were too anxious to see their new futures, so you'd chosen a different angle. You knew what Michael looked like, and now even knew his full name. You knew that, for the boys, he was the harbinger of death. If you could glance into his future, perhaps the four of you could avoid it. If only you could actually pick three cards. 

You slammed your deck against the ground, letting out a noise of frustration. You'd shuffled it for five minutes, but nothing was happening. Nothing was calling you to stop. You ran an angry hand through your hair and said,

"Something's wrong. It's like his future- it's like Michael is being blocked." It had never happened to you before. You didn't even know why it was happening, but you had a few ideas. The first was that it was because he wasn't right in front of you, but you knew that wasn't a cause for an entire block. You'd get his future, just not a clear picture.

"Blocked?" Marko asked, and you couldn't even think of a way to explain. You reached for the cards again, but even with just the intention of the brunette in mind made you feel a disconnect. You sighed,

"Hidden." You clarified. Protected, you thought. It was like he didn't exist, as if the name had no relation to the boy you had in mind. Quickly, Paul suggested,

"Try his brother." And try you did. Again, nothing. No call from the cards. It was exactly the same as before. You ran another hand through your hair. Both of them, both of the Emerson's were being hidden from you. You wished you had known the name of the boys Sam was with, then you could get somewhere. You knew, in the eyes of certain boys, your usefulness was quickly seeming to run thin. You had to think of something quick, so you went with your intuition. 

"Something is blocking me. Protecting them. I think-" The second you tried to think of who it could be, what could be blocking you, a haze went over your mind. You reached for your forehead, grimacing when your head began to swim. It was a haze that made you pause, before you were standing up and pushing yourself to find your journal. The boys watched you, watched you scramble. "Something's wrong." You said, standing and flipping through your pages. You stopped when you reached a drawing you'd done. It was a map of Santa Carla, and you ripped it out to put it to the side. "Do you know if there are any witches in Santa Carla? Any besides me?" You asked, and David scoffed.

"What?" Paul asked, and David was quick to say.

"Besides you? Of course not." And when you gave him a look, his face flattened into a frown as he said, "We'd know." For some reason you doubted that. You gave him a look before waving a pencil towards you. You used the map you'd drawn a few days before, sketching it out and using it as a guide. "What are you doing?" He asked, and you had half a mind to ignore him to focus on your sketch. You were doing it quickly, not paying attention to detail. Instead, you said,

"This is a trick my mother taught me. Sketch a place with a map as reference and whatever you can't draw," You paused. You hadn't paid fully attention to what you were doing. Hadn't put any intention behind it as you finished it. You looked up at David, and showed him the messy sketch with the more detailed one besides it. "Is protected." 

In the messily drawn picture, there were two houses missing. Ones that you'd been able to draw before.

You and the boys had looked over the pictures. You were quickly told that one of them was the Emerson house. The other one? They had no idea. You'd explained that whatever was going on, whatever was blocking you from the Emerson's, was blocking you specifically. And that they hadn't started blocking you until you'd aligned yourself with the vampires.

You'd moved to the couch, staring at the chandelier. It was well past sunset. Well past whenever the boys would probably search out the Emerson's. You were thinking about how stupid you'd been. Not only had you walked into vampire territory, but you'd walked into another witch's territory. You almost wanted to blame yourself for not having scoped the area out enough, but not even the boys had known about them.

"Whoever this is, they're protecting the Emerson's." You said. You wondered why. What would a witch have to do with a family like the Emerson's? The boys had told you that they'd just moved to town, so how were they able to score protection so quickly? Especially from someone as powerful enough to block another witch? But David didn't let you linger in your thoughts for long. He was sitting in his chair, seeming half ready to explode at any second. You knew he liked control, you could guess that. And now everything seemed to be out of it. With the block, you weren't even sure you'd be able to get an accurate reading of their futures.

"What do we do?" David asked. You looked over at him. You could tell that the question practically pained him to ask. You stared at him, before your eyes flicked to the others.

"Honestly?" You said, lifting your hands just to let them drop. "Move." And David didn't seem particularly impressed by your answer. But, really, what else could they do? They'd lost to a couple of kid hunters and halves before. Now, there was a witch? A powerful one? Even you had to admit that they were screwed. Even if it meant your own potential death.

"We should just go to their house and end this." Marko suggested, but neither you nor David seemed impressed by that suggestion either. David took a drag of his cigarette, and you shook your head. "We have the numbers!" Marko said, his voice rising. But even that wasn't for certain. Five vampires and a witch? Against three humans and two halves? And whatever witch they had protecting them, or whoever else they had on their side? It was too risky.

"You'll get yourselves killed." You said flatly, and even David didn't argue with you on that. Despite the attitude he'd been throwing your way all night, he seemed to silently agree with you. It was a stupid idea. It made sense when Paul agreed with him.

"Listen, we didn't have Marko last time. Now, we do and he's- He's our fighter. Whatever we get into- We can take those little shits" You could hear the emotion in his voice, see it in how he punched his own open hand. The desperation to do something. Anything. He wasn't thinking clearly, though he hardly did, and you shared a look with both David and Dwayne. Even if you couldn't hear their thoughts, you could guess. Definitely not happening. 

You motioned for Paul to come closer, to sit besides you. He listened, sighing heavily as he settled next to you. You reached up to hold his cheek when he rested his head on your shoulder. You could practically feel the worry radiating off of him. You could guess why he was so tightly wound, so ready to spring. Sure, you'd made it past the first phase, but now you were blind. You couldn't tell them what was coming, or how to stop it. But, he seemed to relax some when you stroked his cheek. Marko seemed to take personal offense from how quickly the taller blonde had been swayed.

"Well, then what?" He snapped, and Dwaynes eyes went to you. You looked back for just a moment, before your eyes retreated to David. He didn't say a word. He was staring a hole in the wall, and you finally sighed. You had an idea, one you'd been keeping from crossing the forefront of your mind.

It was a bad idea. One even worse than all of theirs. But it was the only one you had, and the only one that could possibly result in not having the wannabe hunters show up at sunrise.

You looked at your detailed drawing, and then up at the house in front of you. You knew, to some degree, that this was the worst idea that you had ever come up with. But, really, what else could you do? 

You were alone. The boys had dropped you off down the street, their bikes rumbling as they sped away towards the night. They were going off to get something to eat, something to build their strength. You were here to confront the other witch, and, hopefully, come to some sort of understanding. For a moment, you briefly thought about how hesitant Dwayne had been to let you walk up the street. He'd cupped your cheek, his eyes telling you everything. Though, it had been Paul that had said,

"You sure you wanna go alone?" And you'd given him a nod. You'd given both Dwayne and Paul a kiss, even sparing one for Markos cheek. When you came to David, you'd met the same icy eyes that you had before. Though, they seemed to have melted a fraction. This was dangerous. For you more than any of them. He'd brushed your hair out of your face, before he told you,

"Try not to get yourself killed." And you could see that he'd meant it to be reassuring. In his own way. But, now, you'd wished for something a little kinder. You half expected to not be able to walk up the driveway, for something to push you back or turn you around. But nothing did, and you made it all the way to the front of the house. You'd had to pass by a couple of cars, one of them being a truck with imposing spikes piled into the back. You gulped, trying to push down your anxiety as you approached. You held your crystal out of instinct, trying to ground yourself.

You stood on the porch, taking a second to breathe before you lifted your hand. Just before your knuckles could make contact, the door opened. Startled, you pulled your hand back. You watched as an older man appeared, one with gray hair that looked as though it was tied back in some sort of ponytail. He was wearing a suit, and, despite your initial startle, he was wearing a warm, broad smile.

"Ah, she told me you were outside. Your friends with you?" And you stared into the scruffy face of the old man. You hadn't been expecting more than one person in the house, and, for a moment, you wished they were. You shook your head, and he said, "Good." Before he was leaving the door and leaving it open. He hobbled inside, and you stared after him, thinking once again about what you had gotten yourself into.

[edens-breathless-melodies-moved]

words: 2.4k

pairing: azumane a. x f!reader

prompt: clothed sex + dry humping

warnings: cursing, dry humping, exactly one (1) spank, cumming in underwear (how pathetic), asahi being a whiny dom lmao

summary: being married to asahi had its advantages, especially seeing as he can custom make your clothes. but sometimes you just happen to look a little too good in them.

azumane asahi does not consider himself a vain or arrogant man, especially in his line of work. if anything, he’s too humble, often selling himself short of his accomplishments and shyly accepting praise.

gentle, understanding, sweet. it’s just in his nature and he’s always been like this for as long as he can remember.

despite his large stature and somewhat intimidating face, the truth of the matter is that azumane asahi is a massive teddy bear, and you wouldn’t change that for the world.

especially when that big teddy bear currently had you pressed up firmly against his desk in your home office, large hands gripping your clothed hips as he ground his aching cock against your ass desperately through his underwear.

a deep whine crawled from his throat as his grip tightened and he pulled you closer, panting in your ear before nipping it lightly.

you couldn’t help but follow his slow grind, head spinning in lust as you struggled to remember how you ended up in this situation.

——————

~ one hour previously ~

(e/c) eyes narrowed in concentration as you tried your hardest to not alert the large man in front of you of your presence. he continued to hum a light tune as he carried on measuring the piece of fabric for his newest design.

an evil smile curled your lips as you continued to creep behind him, stopping when you were just a couple of inches away from him.

this is gonna be good.

“boo!”

everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as you watched your husband seize up and throw his hands into the air in shock, the piece of fabric he had been measuring launching above your head as he let out a blood curdling scream.

you had to admit, the pitch of it was impressive, especially for a man his age and size. you watched as he whipped around in fear and the sheer look of shock and minute terror almost made you feel bad for scaring him so bad.

almost.

asahi shot you a weak glare as he clutched his chest, ignoring the loud cackling as he fought to calm his heart down before it beat straight out of his chest. he was way too young to have a heart attack.

you continued to cackle while pointedly ignoring the unamused look your husband was giving you. bending over swiftly you picked up the silky piece of fabric that flew from his hands and placed it back on the desk.

sighing dramatically, you plopped your body onto his lap, lightly clasping your hands around his neck as you smiled cheekily up at him.

asahi rolled his eyes but smiled softly anyways, bringing his arms around your waist to tug you further into his chest. he buried his nose in your hair and sighed in content. maybe he did need a break.

“y’know,” he muttered, gently rocking you in his arms as you closed your eyes in content. “there are better ways to tell me that you want attention without trying to give me a stroke, love.”

you snickered again before leaning forward and off his chest, twisting your abdomen so (e/c) eyes could lock with warm brown, and you couldn’t help but smile softly at him and roll your eyes as your brought your hand to his cheek.

he quirked an eyebrow questioningly as you began to softly stroke his cheek. “you’re right,” you muse, smiling warmly at him. asahi widened his eyes slightly in shock. you never agree with him so easily-

“but then who’s supposed to keep you on your toes and try to make you shit yourself at least twice a day?”

you finished nonchalantly and asahi groaned as he tossed his head back in defeat. there was definitely no winning with you.

you hummed softly to yourself as asahi completely slumped in his chair, defeated. curious eyes scan over the messy desk, old sketches and notes strewn over the surface.

you quietly appreciated his art and designs, admiring them all until a certain paper caught your eye.

brown eyes cracked open when he heard you let out a soft but excited squeal, wiggling in his lap to get a better look at the paper.

he saw your eyes glued to one of his newest designs and he could help but chuckle at the look of pure awe and amazement in your gaze. you always had a knack for attaching yourself to his favorites.

the design was for a great gatsby themed cocktail dress, the notes indicating that the material was made of velvet and you practically could feel how soft the fabric would be. the colors were mainly gold and black, accents of silver trailing up to the thin spaghetti straps that crossed into an “x” on otherwise bare back,

it ended just at the top of the figures thighs, the front of the dress having an elegant twist just below the bust and spreading into the ruched detailing on the sides. it looked absolutely stunning.

you let out a low whistle, quirking an eyebrow as your gaze never left the finished sketch.

“babe, i know i say this a lot, but you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

your husband gives a sheepish smile before hiding his blushing face in your neck as you continue to stare at the sheet.

“it’s not that impressive, really...” he trails off, but before he could continue to self deprecate, you delivered a swift but firm chop to his head, causing him to splutter. (suga would be proud)

“what did i say about taking compliments?” you challenge him with a firm voice, and he sighs. “fine!” he exclaims before huffing childishly. “...i guess i did okay.” he murmurs as he rests his chin on your shoulder and you smile, having won.

bringing a hand up to gently stroke his hair, your voice audibly softens when you whisper your praise to him again. “it really is gorgeous, asa.” asahi’s heart melted at how soft you sounded, at how much love was in your words.

asahi constantly tells himself everyday how lucky he is to have you in his life, especially as his wife. he loves you so much it hurts his chest sometimes, and it warms him like nothing else when he knows you love him just as much.

you’re his biggest fan, always supporting him through all his trials and tribulations, no matter what. you like to call yourself his personal cheerleader and even joke around saying “you should design me an cheer uniform, that way my role will be taken official.”

speaking of wearing what he designs, asahi wraps his arms around your waist again, pulling you in close to bring his lips to your ear. “if you like it so much, could you do me a favor?”

you raise an eyebrow at him, staring down his blushing but determined face from the corner of your eye.

“hmm? and just what do you have in mind, love?”

~~~~~

your eyes seemed to be glued to the mirror, lips permanently dropped open as you took in the sight of your body in the exact same dress from your husband’s sketch.

fuck you looked hot.

asahi stood behind you, his tall frame towering over you as he smiled bashfully at your reflection, hand scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“i had already had the mind for you to model it for me to see how well it would look in person instead of just on paper.” his eyes trailed down your body as the dress hugged every one of your curves deliciously, and he couldn’t help but take a nervous gulp.

“but you always seem to exceed my expectations.” now it was your turn to blush as you turned away from the mirror, not missing the way his lips turned up in a light smirk at your pink cheeks.

you turn around to gaze up at him, admiring the way his eyes seem to twinkle behind his glasses as he smiled at you with love and pride. he looked so cute, being confident and all. you wanted to just eat him up.

asahi didn’t back away from you as you approached him slowly like a creeping lioness. he also didn’t back down from your heated gaze as you locked eyes with him, and a smile appeared on his lips when he saw you shiver at the same fire that was dancing behind his eyes, too.

you rested your chin on his chest as you stared up at him, big doe eyes gleaming up at him in innocence when you were anything but.

his arms wrapped around your frame and squeezed before one large hand trailed down the softness of your dress to settle on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and delighting in the small moan you let out.

“you know,” your drawl, hands coming up to trail your nails down the expanse of his back lightly, enjoying the way he shivered as he stared back at you.

“i really like how this dress looks on me, but maybe i would look better if we took it off?”

——————

~ presently ~

you moaned as your husband continued to grind his clothed cock into your ass, voice catching when he angled just right to slip between your thighs and nudge against your clit.

you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, desperate to finally shed the dress that now felt too hot against your flushed skin and let him have his way with you, but it seemed like he had other plans for you.

his grip was vice like on your hips and you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises tomorrow. if anything, it only fueled the fire that was coiling in your belly like a spring. soft asahi was hot, but a needy, dominant asahi was downright sinful.

asahi nipped your ear even harsher this time, a warning to keep still and behave. he continued to rut against your ass, biting back another whine at the delicious friction the soaked fabric felt against his weeping cockhead.

“asahi! please!” you whined, grinding your ass against him as your fingers gripped the edge of the desk harshly, hoping to convince him to let you go. “i wanna feel your cock inside me already! just take my dress off!” he chuckled at the whininess of your voice, but ignored your pleas.

he growled lightly when he felt you soaking through the cloth of his underwear, your slick already having destroyed your cute little thong you teased him with earlier when you stripped to put the dress on.

“why should i listen to you when all you do is bully and tease me, hm?” he muttered darkly into your ear, purposefully angling his bulge to jam right against your clit and groaning when you let out a high pitched moan. you knew he wasn’t gonna let go of you scaring him so easily.

“ i-i said i was s-sorryyy!” you wail as his hips stop grinding against you and instead begin to thrust at an even pace, his cock dragging along your clit with each pass.

the coil in your stomach was growing slowly, the pleasure you were receiving was enough to make you throb and keen, but not enough to push you over. you needed more.

asahi panted as he slightly sped up, some of his hair sticking to his forehead as he broke out into a sweat, the friction pushing him slowly to the peak, and though all he wanted was to just rip your underwear off and split you in two, he was gonna teach you a lesson.

“you say that everytime, darling,” he growled the last word into your ear, making you whine and soak through your destroyed panties even more. “but we both know you’re just gonna do it again.”

his hips picked up the pace until he was practically fucking you through your clothes, the slickness from your cunt and his precum allowing him to glide across your slit with ease as he pushed you both closer to the edge.

“a-as-a-hi!!” you squealed as he slapped his hips against your ass, eyes screwing shut as the friction sparked your clit deliciously, panting against the cool surface of the desk as all you could do was let him make you about to cum in your panties.

asahi was no better, choked whines and moans leaving his pink lips as he grit his teeth together in concentration, chocolate eyes drinking in the way you looked bent over his desk as his cock dragged against your clit, (s/c) skin glowing and complimenting the dress you were in, the one he designed.

he curled his body over yours, hips never stopping their pace as he placed kiss after kiss on your exposed back before sinking his teeth into your flesh, a loud whine ripping through him as he feels himself near his peak.

with one particularly hard thrust against your clit and one of his hands coming down to slam against your ass harshly, you came with a cry, nails digging into the wood of the desk as your legs trembled.

asahi choked as he came as well, shooting his hot cum into his already ruined boxers as he rested his sweaty forehead against your back, gasping for air as you both rode out the aftershocks.

you don’t know how long you both laid there catching your breath from such a surprisingly strong orgasm, but asahi was the first to move.

you whined at the loss of heat when you felt him pull away, but you all you got was a chuckle as he walked towards the bathroom connected to the office. you stayed in your slumped over position on the desk until you felt warm hands nudge your legs apart and slide your soaked panties down your legs.

you shuddered as asahi cleaned you gently with a wet wash cloth, wiping away the evidence of your little romp before tossing it in the direction of the bathroom and scooping you into his arms, making his way to the bedroom.

you nuzzle your face into his chest, and he can’t help but laugh as his cheeks tinge pink again at your words.

“you’re lucky i love you, otherwise i’d kill you for making me cum in my panties.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before settling you down onto the cool sheets. he had a mischievous but warm glimmer in his eyes.

“it’s alright love, you made me cum in mine, too.”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie

[heyheydidjaknow]

Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. “It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

--

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

[gumnut-logic]

Late

I had a bit of a rocky night last night with a sick daughter and lots of lost sleep. She’s okay, but I was up between 2.30 and 5.30am. She went to bed at 4.30am and I took the opportunity to relax by writing self indulgent sleepy fic starting with our two eldest boys. I was totally wiped at the time, so didn’t finish it until tonight.

Warning: 2228 words of fluffy self indulgent goop that goes nowhere. Perfectly attuned to a slightly depressed, sleep-deprived Nutty. Also, lots of Virg, possibly so floppy he fell out of character. Ultimately Scotty took over, but it was supposed to be about both of them, so I don’t mind. ::eyes the Scotty fans who have me surrounded::

Many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @janetm74​ and @scribbles97​ for the reading and support. ::hugs you lots::

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

It was late.

It had been a very long day.

A very, very long day.

Scott had been held back at the danger zone by bureaucratic nonsense and a CEO throwing a fit over a couple of Thunderbirds parking in his carpark and the resultant damage to a nearby building.

The insensitivity and self-involvement had John reining Scott in over comms. It wasn’t like he was going to hit the guy, really, no matter how satisfying it might have been. But it had been a gruelling and messy rescue digging people out of a collapsed shopping mall.

He and his brothers had been digging for hours.

Eventually he had to call it and had sent Thunderbird Two back to base.

He had intended to follow shortly after, but...obstacles.

It was just past three in the morning when One streaked into a hover above Tracy Island. The shift to vertical flight was smooth and mostly subconscious. Scott felt his ‘bird in his bones.

As he lowered her through the gap left by the pool, a dim light from the lounge told him he wasn’t the only one awake.

He had his suspicions who it might be and that only had him working through post-flight faster.

It could be Grandma, but chances were it was Virgil waiting for him to come home.

He didn’t always do this. Only after the difficult ones.

And this one had been far from easy.

Scott hurried up to the locker room and, shucking his uniform, washed the sweat and grime from his skin. It felt good to be clean, an extra step further away from the tragedy they had left behind.

He didn’t bother getting dressed other than to throw on some pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. he would check on his brother, possibly grab a quick bite of food and a drink, and then hit the sack.

The house was quiet as he made his way to the lounge. No doubt Grandma and Virgil combined were a force that saw the younger Tracys safe in bed. Virgil likely then turned on his partner in crime and bundled her off as well.

He was determined like that.

Sure enough, a quiet step into the lounge and he found his brother in their father’s chair.

Asleep.

Dark curls let loose from their product by a long-ago shower were a hastily combed mess on his forehead as Dad’s chair held Scott’s brother as if it were its owner. The worn upholstery cradling worn out rescue operative ever so gently.

Scott’s bare feet made little sound as he stepped across the hardwood floor. It was a warm night. The open windows let in a soft breeze off the Pacific laced with the honey scent of flowering pōhutukawa trees.

Virgil muttered and shifted in his sleep.

The sound drew Scott’s attention back to his brother. The desk lamp was the only source of light in the room beyond the starlight far above. The moon had already set and outside was almost as dark as it got, the ocean murmuring in the distance.

There was paper on the desk.

Scott didn’t use much in the way of paper himself. Most of his work was digital, often holographic and as ecologically sound as he could get it.

Virgil, however, did keep a stash of different surfaces to art on in his studio. Paper was one of them. Obviously, some had made it out tonight.

Pencil sketches covered the white sheets. Eyes, half drawn faces. Gordon popped up in one corner, a familiar smile on his face. Thunderbird One had her grapple out and was lifting something half-drawn.

He found his own face staring out of the paper. His drawn self was obviously angry and glaring at a faceless head.

Scott arched an eyebrow at the obscenity scratched into the cartridge under the non-person creature.

Virgil had obviously not been happy that Scott had been held up.

There were other words on the page amongst the drawings. Virgil doodling and possibly venting in the process. Even Scott could see the emotion drawn in graphite.

He sighed.

As if agreeing, Virgil snorted and tried to turn over in the chair, a manoeuvre that wasn’t recommended.

Scott caught his brother under his arms as he tried to slide off the leather upholstery.

He earned a grunt for his efforts. Bleary brown eyes opened and stared up at him. “Sc-t?”

“Hey.” A soft smile. “You planning on camping out tonight?”

Another grunt and his brother tried to right himself in the chair. “You took too long. Why didn’t you sic John on ‘em?”

“I did. But not until tomorrow. John needs his sleep as much as you do.”

“Yes. Yes, he does. Tol’ him.” Virgil’s eyes drifted closed again and he began to sink back into the chair.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to bed, little brother.” Scott gripped Virgil a little tighter and pulled him up and out of the chair.

Various limbs pinwheeled a little and Scott ended up with his arms full of dopey brother, but he got the man on to his feet.

Virgil grumbled into his t-shirt and Scott let off a snort of a laugh. His biggest brother was hopeless when his sleep was disturbed. It was an ongoing source of prankdom – at the risk of the perpetrator’s life.

Hell, Gordon had managed to draw in a second pair of eyebrows on Virgil’s forehead once – while the man was supposedly awake and nursing his coffee.

The double-eyebrowed death monster that had resulted once enough coffee had been ingested was of legendary proportions. Grandma had literally roasted Gordon alive and a ban on markers on anyone’s faces had been instituted for all eternity.

Gordon was a multitalented artist, however, and simply switched mediums.

The honey had Scott blowing a circuit.

But dopey Virgil was a familiar and smile-inducing feature of the Tracy household.

Scott found himself grinning.

“Shuddup.”

Well, at least Virgil had managed a couple of neurons worth of thought.

Scott’s smile only got wider.

Virgil groaned and pushed his brother away and stumbled a little. “’M gonna bed.”

“You do that.” Scott had to stick out a hand and steady him as he wobbled into the side of the desk. “Need a hand?”

That triggered some incoherent grumbling that threatened bear territory. Scott couldn’t help himself and just grinned more as Virgil teetered away in the direction of the elevator.

The fact Scott had to save him from falling into the sunken lounge was probably a sign that the answer to his question was a definite ‘yes’.

A hand on his brother’s elbow prompted more grumbling, but the elbow wasn’t yanked away and by the time they made it into the elevator, Virgil had pretty much faceplanted himself into Scott’s shoulder.

The grin turned into a fond smile as he hit the button for the residential levels.

“You neeb togoto bed too.” It was muffled by the sleeve of Scott’s t-shirt.

“That’s the plan.”

“You bedda.”

Scott wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Or what?”

More incoherent grumbling.

Scott pulled him in a little tighter as the elevator doors opened.

It was like leading a zombie down the corridor, though Scott could easily empathise. He was looking forward to his own pillow as soon as he saw Virgil to his.

A yawn escaped.

His brother looked up as if the medic had bypassed his brain and booted in safe mode. “You need sleep. Go to bed.”

He gestured towards door to Virgil’s rooms. “After you.”

Virgil frowned. “You first.”

Scott rolled his eyes and, reaching around his brother, activated the door and, with a little manoeuvring, manhandled Virgil into his rooms.

“Hey!”

His hand returned to his brother’s elbow and he marched him into his bedroom, amid protests.

“You need to look after yourself.” Virgil finger was jabbed into Scott’s breastbone.

Was it possible for a human to have one half of his brain awake and the other asleep at the same time? Apparently, some birds could do that. Gordon had gone into great detail that year they spotted some migratory waders landing on their beaches mid-transit.

In any case, Virgil obviously wasn’t all there as Scott backed him up against the end of his bed and pulled back the covers. Virgil continued to nag Scott to bed with varying levels of coherence. Smiling, Scott gave his rambling brother a gentle nudge and their gentle giant went Gulliver, flat on his back.

“Scott?!”

The eldest yanked up the covers and muffled the outraged mutterings. “Yes, Virgil?”

But his protests began to fade away and, as Scott pulled down the covers a little and tucked them in, he realised Virgil’s eyes were already drooping again.

Dopey indeed.

He brushed curls off his brother’s forehead. “Sleep, Virg.”

“Mmm, Sco’, go bed.”

Softly. “I will.”

“Mmmhm.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile a little more as Virgil drifted off.

A final touch to his brother’s hair and Scott straightened, his body creaking enough to remind him, that yes, he needed his bed as well.

He slipped quietly out of Virgil’s room and secured the door. A glance down the corridor, a thought, and he walked quietly down to check on Gordon.

The last he had seen of his fish brother had involved sad eyes and concrete dust. A quiet step into his rooms and he found Gordon as he had suspected he would.

The aquanaut was tangled in his sheets and throttling his pillow.

There was a frown on his face.

Much practised manoeuvring and he managed to straighten the Fish out and untangle him from his bedclothes.

Half asleep protests were halted by a plushie squid that awake Gordon would claim to his death never left the mantle above his bed.

Scott knew better.

His little brother quietened, falling into a deeper sleep.

After that, Scott couldn’t help but check in on Alan. It was probably a fortunate thing, because opening the door found Alan asleep in front of it.

The littlest Tracy had a history of wandering in his sleep. Scott had it checked out and it was directly related to early childhood trauma. Which one was a game of pick one.

It was managed, but occasionally it flared up. One of the most common symptoms was climbing out of bed and sleeping on the floor. Sometimes, the piece of floor chosen was a little inconvenient.

Scott was just happy the piece chosen wasn’t a balcony. Five and now Eos had been tracking Alan while he slept for years and issued alerts if he should wander too far.

Scott slipped into the room sideways and, with cracking knees, lifted his little brother off the floor.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Alan shared his sleep type with Virgil and slept like the dead. So, it was easy to move him over to his specially plush rug and snuggle him up with a pillow and quilt from his bed.

Alan muttered something about Virgil pulling him up, possibly something to do with the day’s rescue.

Scott reached out and touched Alan’s cheek.

His little brother mumbled his name and leant into his hand.

Scott blinked. The emotion that suddenly gripped him was just a sign of how tired he was.

Letting go, he pushed to his feet and slipped from the room. In the corridor, he closed his eyes and leant back against the wall for a moment.

One to go.

He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. “Eos? You there?”

“Where else would I be?” Despite the smart-ass remark, her voice was quiet. Something she had learnt the hard way.

He ignored the comment. “John’s status?”

“John is currently in REM sleep. No signs of nightmare. Pulse regular, respiration as to be expected, body temperature 36.7 degrees Celsius. John is well, Commander.”

Scott let out a breath. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You’re welcome. Kayo and Mrs Tracy are asleep in their rooms, as is Hiram. Which is a concern, if I may say so, because he left Max on the ceiling.”

A blink. “Again?”

“It would appear so.”

Scott groaned. “Keep him out of the hangars this time.”

“I will try. But you know how he is.”

A grunt and Scott pushed himself off the wall. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good. Virgil was adamant you do exactly that.”

A frown. “Or what?”

“He said ‘or I’ll knock his ass out and drag him there myself’. His tone seemed humorous, however, John said it was a half-truth.” A pause. “Which half, I’m not sure.”

Another grunt. “Both halves, most likely.” To stave off a round of questioning at that, Scott quickly followed up with, “Tracy Island out.”

The house fell quiet after that and he let his shoulders drop, rolling his neck as he made his way to his own quarters. In his rooms lay freedom. A moment where he could just be himself, relax and sleep.

Sleep.

The door clicked shut and exhaustion caught up with him. It was a matter of steps to his bedroom, a modicum of the last of his energy to shove the covers aside, and he let himself fall face first into his pillow.

His body melted into the mattress.

It had been a shitty rescue, but his family was all home, safe, uninjured and resting.

He could let go.

So he did.

-o-o-o-

 FIN.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Four

Happy Sunday all, back to the usually scheduling this week. I hope you enjoy the next week of lockdown with Jamie and Claire <3 Mod MBD.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: 

It does not matter what you bear, but how you bear it. [Seneca]

CHAPTER FOUR: WEEK TWO - Home and Away.

As Monday rolled around again, the weekend having passed by in a blur, Claire sat at the breakfast table with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Having ventured down during the day on both Saturday and Sunday, she had hoped to bump into Jamie and pass on her thanks to his generosity but he had been out before sunrise each day and she had been asleep before he’d returned home.

Resolute, however, she chose to spend her day downstairs and hopefully get something on for dinner before he came back so she could at least start the week off right.

Fate, however, wasn’t on her side. By 10pm, with the lasagne tucked away, wrapped in foil, in the fridge, she covered her mouth with a yawn and pulled herself up the stairs to bed.

The crash and smashing of a glass bought her out of her sleep as the clock beside her bed clicked over to 3am. Pulling herself from beneath the sheets, she crept downstairs, eager not to scare him as she approached the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, knowing full well he had only just returned home.

He was stood by the sink, cold lasagna on the countertop and his mucky boots still on his feet. With the fork held to his mouth, he smiled as he took another bite of the pasta, chewed and then shook his head. “I havena ever been the best sleeper but it’s lambing season, aye? One of them got into bother and I couldna leave her until I knew she was safe.”

“And she made it?”

“Aye. I was luckier tonight than I was at the weekend.”

“Oh, dear...that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s the job, I’m afraid. If I didna lose at least a handful a year I’d be shocked.”

It was the first real (and longest) conversation they’d had since she’d arrived and she was suddenly grateful for the company. He was calm, grounded and relaxed in the way a lot of city dwellers weren’t. She could tell in the slump of his shoulders that it didn’t matter how long and awkward his day was, how messy or how little sleep he had gotten the night before, he was still weightless almost, free of the constraint modern living brought to most.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she broke in, remembering the reason she’d half-blindly stumbled down in the middle of the night, “you’ve been so amazing - to get me materials for a garden, that’s...above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Ach,” shaking his head, he finished the last of his supper, balled the tin foil up and placed it in the bin, “dinna fash yersel’ about that. It’s no’ a problem.”

He was embarrassed, she could tell. Abashed, his accent had become incredibly thick and almost impossible to understand. But it was quiet enough here that there was no background noise to blot out his sentence and luckily she didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself.

“Well, nonetheless,” ignoring the slight reddening of his cheeks she continued, “I am very grateful to you. For everything.”

With nothing more to say between them, she waved, smiled and backed off, feeling strangely pleased with herself for breaking the silence between them. Hopefully, she thought as she climbed the stairs back to her room, there would be some evenings in the future when they could eat together and she could show her appreciation by making him something warm and fresh.

-- --

By mid-week, she had yet to see Jamie again. His work was intense, and yet, despite that, he had still managed to begin construction of her tiny garden.

In her haste she had forgotten that she wasn’t allowed outside the house and, as she’d watched the greenhouse foundations being laid, she had become almost inconsolable about the fact that she probably wouldn’t get the chance to tend to any of the produce grown in it.

She knew, however, that safety was more important than new hobbies and she chose, instead, to make detailed lists of the daily needs of each of the seeds and plants Jamie had procured for her.

She started with the tomatoes and grapes, which needed to be contained within the glass walls in order to collect enough light and heat to survive. She noted water levels, soil PH and balance and daily rituals which would need to be abided by in order for the best crop to be formed. It filled most of her days and when the sun went down, she’d swap her notepad for the computer as she researched all the differences she might see in her fruit and veg determined all by the way they were treated as they grew.

Though she had never been an artist, she started to search for youtube videos on how botanical art could be created. Having no coloured pencil crayons or watercolours, she stuck to pencil sketches and began to leave more post-it’s, this time with future predictions on what the garden might produce for the household.

Once again Jamie enjoyed coming home. There had only been a few days lapse in her communications but when he didn’t see her for days, it was the one thing he could rely on to buoy his spirits.

They were different, in so many ways, but on a subconscious level, he pondered to himself at night as he held the drawing of some rare cabbage in his hands, Jamie felt as if they had very many similar quirks. He’d been pleased that his idea to leave her be for as long as she needed had been a success and was grateful she felt at home enough to reform her life around his. Her asking for the garden made him realise how easy it might be for someone else to fit into his own life without causing him much grief.

It was only a small thing, but to him it had made a huge difference. Having lived alone for so long, he had almost forgotten how malleable people could be. Though, he thought as he rifled around in the fridge for more pre-made meals, he had probably just gotten lucky with Claire.

The thought also occurred to him that she had been inadvertently raised more suited to this life than her old one, but he didn’t know enough about her to advance on the notion.

It wasn’t until late on Thursday when they came face to face together. After another heavy day and late night, Jamie finally toe-ed off his work boots at nearly midnight and made his way, quietly, through to the kitchen.

He had not expected to nearly bump straight into Claire has she dished up what looked like a very tasty stir fry.

“I thought you might be sick of reheating pasta dishes, so I thought I’d try and wait for you this time.”

“Ye didna have to, it’s very late.” He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, even she couldn;t find the truth in his words and she smiled as she placed a fresh bottle of soy sauce in the centre of the table. “But this does smell delicious.”

“It’s taken me a few attempts to hone it, but I’ve been practicing most evenings this week to try and get it perfect, flavour as well as how long I need to cook the veg for.”

“What’s the meat?” He asked, watching as his stomach rumbled audibly.”

“I used the duck, I hope you don’t mind. I used chicken earlier in the week but I couldn’t seem to get it as tender as I wanted it and a few forums online suggested that duck might be a better substitute if I wanted meat with a bit more moisture.”

“Perfect. Use any meat you want from the freeze, for anything. Honestly, I forget most of the time what I’ve got in there.”

Placing several bowls filled with various meats, vegetables and sides, she went back to the sink to wash the remaining stickiness of her hands before beckoning him to start without her. “I had hoped you weren’t saving anything for a special occasion.”

“Ach, I think the virus has put pay to anything like that for a while,” he began, filling his plate with noodles, duck and beansprouts, “my sister - she lives in Canada now - had planned a summer visit, but we’re no’ sure of anything at the moment.”

“Is she the one in the photo,” Claire enquired, taking a mouthful of her own concoction and swallowing back the relief when it tasted nice - a mixture of sweet and savory that wasn’t as overpowering or as dry as it had been earlier on in the day when she’d made the first of the final tests. “The one with brown hair?”

“Aye, she is. Her partner, Ian, got a job out there a few years ago and they emigrated. We talk as often as we can on Skype and FaceTime but it’s become sporadic recently wi’ my erratic work hours. She’s a nurse, ya see, and works odd shift patterns too. But we try and keep in touch at least once a month.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I didna really think about it, we were close....until we werena. Then they moved away and I fell into a new routine.”

He had begun to speak without thinking, filling up the silence with answers to her questions as they ate in between conversation. He had, though, had the forethought to stop before giving too much away. The thought hurt his heart and he had to inhale between a bite of his dinner to gather himself back up. He knew, given time, that he would be alright with sharing his past (as he hoped she would be with hers) but tonight wasn’t the night for revelations.

Sensing his reluctance to continue, she moved on, understanding that she herself wasn’t in a place to open up about her own family life.

“I can imagine Skype is about the only way most are communicating at the moment.” Sighing, she started to collect the empty dishes and load the dishwasher. “I’m quite grateful, actually, that I don’t have anyone to keep in touch with. It’s all...quite scary.”

It was the first time Jamie had consciously thought about the pandemic, being cut off from the outside world had its benefits and he felt relieved that he could separate himself from the constant barrage of news that he supposed others would be exposed to. He realised that both he and Claire were unique now, part of a smaller section of society where being remote was almost a blessing rather than a curse.

“If you ever need to talk, lass,” standing, he helped to clean up the remaining mess from dinner, his hand almost brushing against hers as he wiped the countertop down, breaking only to hover for a second before returning to his job, “ye know where I am. Please dinna think you have nobody...if yer concerned, aye?”

“Thank you Jamie.” Pulling her fleece cardigan across her chest she walked slowly to the kitchen door, pausing for a second in the doorway just to make sure she’d left nothing out to go cold and mouldy overnight. “The same to you. I’m a good listener, I promise, if you ever need to talk, or if you need any help.”

She’d been thinking about his life on the farm for a few days now, watching the rolling hills out of her window, seeing the sheep and cattle on the horizon and -very occasionally- seeing the silhouette of him roaming his land. There was little she could do from indoors, she knew, but there had been chores around the house that she could potentially complete. Putting herself to task, she had learned new basic kitchen skills but only this morning she’d noticed the beginnings of a hole on the seam of his trousers as they dried on the rail in the courtyard and she thought it might be something she could tend to...should he be alright with it.

Leaving with the quiet settling calmly between them, she noted the relaxing of the muscles in his face as he smiled and nodded as she turned and carried herself to bed.

Resting against the faux-marble worktop, Jamie closed his eyes as he waited for the soft slam of her bedroom door before he followed her up. She just might, he thought to himself as he undressed himself, taking a towel from his radiator and making his way to the shower, be better equipped for this life than I am.

[soukokuwu]

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

THE LITTLE THINGS

》 look! no trigger warnings because FLUFF ♡

》 fyodor x reader

》 word count: 1.9k

》 thanks anon for the request, i tried my best with this fluff and i hope you like this (〃ω〃) i had to google the russian words i hope i got em right..

“no other dream would be better”

“I knew you’d miss me but I didn’t think you’d miss me that much.”

Gasping, you leaped up from your position on the couch where you had been replaying the old videos you took on your dates. You scrambled to turn the television off, and stood rooted where you were, flustered, your right leg brushing the back of your left sheepishly.

“Fyodor! Wh- when did you get back?”

The man gave you a once-over, amused by how adorable you were being. The watching of the nauseating videos aside, there were other signs that showed you missed him. You were wearing his casual shirt as an oversized dress, your hair pulled up into a messy bun with a pen that he gifted to you, and you had been cuddling with a bear that he won for you. It practically screamed ‘Fyodor’, head to toe. Like a little fangirl.

How cute. How interesting.

You were still as pure and predictable as you were when the two of you first met. Despite being with a man such as he, you were still the same annoyingly helpful and caring being you were. You never let other people’s evil deeds toward you change your view of the world. You wanted to do whatever you could to contribute to the good, ideal world you sought. The two of you didn’t talk much about that, but Fyodor knew enough to respect your outlook on it.

“Is that all you have to say after not seeing me for a month, lyubov moya (my love)?”

Pushing your embarrassment aside, you grinned up at your boyfriend and ran across the room into his arms. You breathed him in, only realising now just how much you truly missed him. You hugged him tighter, afraid that if you didn’t he’d slip out of your reach again. He was really back, and you couldn’t be happier.

You knew how dangerous it was every time he went off on one of his ‘missions’. Depending on who he would have to face, it could very well escalate into a life-or-death situation. You had spoken about your reservations to him before, but he simply asked you to trust in him and his ability. Needless to say, he was baffled you’d think anyone could actually kill him. He saw himself as practically a god. Given that you were someone whose opinion meant the world to him, he was very offended that you could even think that. That conversation ended with the two of you compromising, where he would update you at least once every one or two days, and in turn you would try to stop overthinking things.

Now that he was back, you felt the weight lift off of your shoulders. He’s safe, he’s really safe. His arms made his way around your waist, accepting you in a tight embrace. You felt as though your heart could burst at any moment. It has been way too long since you’ve last felt your lover’s touch.

Fyodor’s cold, thin fingers made his way up to your chin, tilting your face upwards to press his lips against yours. Your hands were wrapping themselves around his neck when you felt something on your head.

Your eyes shot open, and you saw Fyodor flashing you a smirk. Your hands traveled up to your head, and you felt the familiar feel of fur.

“Is this-?”

“Your own Ushanka, milaya (darling).”

He noticed your eyes glimmer with appreciation as you fixed the position of the hat. Fyodor chuckled silently as he watched you with curious eyes. He had seen you don his ushanka before he left for his mission, and while he pretended he didn’t catch you doing that, he couldn’t quite forget how beautiful he thought you looked wearing it. The image of you was burned into his mind, and he couldn’t forget it even when he was busy carrying out his plans. That was when he made a mental note to get you one for yourself.

“Thank you,” you gushed, face red as a cherry as you beamed up at him. You then stood on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. But as your lips brushed his face, alarms set off in your head. “Are you running a fever?”

Oh no.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

At the dining table, Fyodor propped his head up against his fist as he finished up the last of the grilled chicken breast you had cooked for him. You were washing the pan at the sink, still going off on how he should take more care of himself while he was away.

The past ten minutes had been filled with you nagging him on his almost non-existent eating habits, as well as his horrible sleep schedule, insisting that he had to be more careful due to his anemia. There was a time when Fyodor found this terribly exhausting, but as time passed, he saw past the lectures and realised it was your way of saying you loved him. So this time, he took it all in, basking in the idea that he was the only one to receive all your affection.

“Here,” you prodded at him, gesturing to the cough syrup you had placed in front of him.

All the pleasant thoughts in his head earlier vanished and turned into dread. Not that. He had had to drink that the last time he fell sick, and it was foul. It worked wonders, but it was horrible. Fyodor didn’t know what came over him, he became so openly clingy with you the moment it was in his system. It was like barf in a bottle.

“Try to hide the disdain from your face, will you?” you asked of him, twisting the bottle cap open.

“You know,” Fyodor began, leaning forward to cup your face in his hands. “I don’t know how much of my luck was used up in meeting you. I love you.” His purple eyes were locked straight into yours, entrancing you. His smile was different than usual, this one was mind-numbingly sweet.

Just as he leaned in to kiss you, you put your index finger up to his lips. Fyodor gave a slight frown as he looked at your unamused expression. Damn.

“Nice try,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You need to stop saying that every time you want to get out of something.”

A spoonful of medicine and a change of clothes later, Fyodor sighed. He lost that one. Noticing your smug smile as you took a seat beside him on the couch, he flicked you on the forehead.

“Plokhaya devochka (bad girl).”

You furrowed your brows as you rubbed your forehead. “What does that mean?”

“Se-cr-et.”

There was your signature pout, right on cue.

Fyodor absolutely loved it when you got confused over the Russian terms he used. You were already stunningly beautiful yourself, even with a stoic expression you were positively captivating. Pair your natural beauty with that adorably puzzled expression and you looked even more exquisite than usual.

He found himself smiling as he thought of that, aware that the medicine was getting to his head, starting to take effect. Maybe allowing you to see this side of him once in a while wouldn’t be too bad. Giving in to the drowsiness, he slowly laid his head down on your lap, choosing to gaze up at you from below. “I did mean it, you know.”

“What?”

“What I said before you force-fed me that spoonful of vile potion.”

You chuckled at his exaggeration. Smiling down at him, you pulled apart the hair covering his face. “I love you too, Fyo,” you whispered, noticing that his eyes were gradually getting droopier.

You sang softly along to the song playing on the television, lulling your exhausted lover to sleep who was mumbling, “Your voice is so... angelic.”

It was quite a rare sight to see the usually calm and confident demeanor of his fade into something sweet. Only in sickness would this behaviour appear, and you felt so bittersweet about it. You wished he would show it more often, but you knew that was not the kind of person he was. And you still accepted and loved him for it, all the same.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Fyodor awoke in the middle of the night. He opened his eyes only to find that your eyes had been replaced by the plain ceiling staring back at him. A blanket was draped around him, and your lap had been replaced by a mere pillow.

Not good enough.

Slowly, he sat up, the medicine still causing a little giddiness. As he looked around, he spotted you just inches away from him, engrossed in your work. You were busy sketching away on your notepad, with only the faint light of your phone as a source of illumination.

His heart warmed, and he wasn’t sure whether it was an effect of the medicine or the fact that you were being so considerate of him. But the moment he saw what you were sketching, it felt even warmer. A realisation dawned upon him. You were always putting your own needs aside for him, regardless of the situation, big or small. You always thought of him, even if you didn’t get anything back for it. You deserved more, and he wanted to give it to you. He waited for you to finish your sketch before getting down and nestling up to you, wrapping his lithe arms around your body and resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fyodor?” you exclaimed, surprised that you didn’t notice him get up.

“You should frame that up, it looks amazing.”

He was referring to the sketch you did of the two of you reuniting in a hug. You felt proud of the validation he gave you, glad that he liked it enough to want it hung up in the apartment.

“Wow, Fyo, you can be such a softy sometimes, you know that?” you teased. 

You had expected him to give you some sort of witty or unsatisfied reply, but you didn’t see this one coming.

“I know I can be difficult,” he murmurs in your ear, voice still thick with sleepiness, “But if you can help it, please don’t leave my side.”

A part of you was squealing with delight at his sudden confession, another part feeling worried why he was saying such things with no warning. Usually he’d never let words that heavy with affection slip from his mouth. What was it that led him to say such things?

But there was another part of you, an overwhelmingly large part, that felt more love for him than you ever had before. Yes, it was tasking being with a man like Fyodor. Not just because he was so sharp and smart, not only because you felt he deserved someone much better than you in every way, be it looks or status, but because you thought that much of him. There were instances he referred to himself as a god, and you never questioned him. You only questioned your ability to keep up with such an astounding man. But maybe this was his way of assuring you. With the little things. And it may not be conventional and he may not ever be straight with his words, but what does it matter when you understood his love language? You rested your head on his, wondering if you could feel even more bliss than you did right now.

“I’ll be with you,” you assured him, returning the hug, “Every mission, every milestone, I’ll be there.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“love, and then love more”

[avengerscompound]

Catch and Release - 5

Catch and Release: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  3289

Rating:  E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ - Steve's Apartment

Warnings:  Smut (MMF, oral and vaginal sex, overstimulation)

Synopsis: When you overexert yourself on a mission with Steve and Bucky, the boys admit to having fantasies that involve you.  Fantasies that you share.  But with one Super Soldier needs intimacy and the other is still dealing with being touch starved, exploring those desires without anyone catching feelings is a little tricky.

Chapter 5: Lying in Wait

You knocked on the door to the apartment that Steve and Bucky shared.  They'd asked you around for dinner, which meant dinner and experimenting with their sexuality, and you were more than a little excited.  The dice game had gone over really well and for a couple of days after they would each come and tell you about what parts they liked the most.  You knew that they’d want to take it further and try more things.  Especially given Steve hadn’t technically gone ‘all the way’ with you.

You were very excited too.  This whole thing had not at all been what you’d expected.  The whole idea of a down and dirty three-way that was all about sex and just getting that release at the hands of the two super soldiers was definitely one that you’d visited alone a lot of times.  Somehow this was even better.  Steve and Bucky were such good friends, and this arrangement you’d come to was both exciting and safe all at once.  They might be finding out more about themselves, but this was your opportunity to find out more about yourself too.

Steve answered and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.  It was funny really, you’d seen him on and off all day, but that was Cap.  Steve was a whole different person in a lot of ways and so even though you’d only seen him half an hour ago, this was the first time you were seeing him all day.  “Come in,” he said as he held the door open for you.

“I bought wine.”  You said holding up the bottle of merlot you’d ‘stolen’ from Tony’s cellar. 

“Trying to get us drunk are you?”  He asked taking it from you.

You chuckled and followed through the apartment to the table.  Their place was a weird mix of old and new.  There was a blue velvet wingback couch sitting next to a black leather recliner that had speakers in the headrest.  An old cabinet style record player sat next to a large flat-screen TV and had a PS4 sitting on top of it.  A set of nesting tables sat in front of the couch and each one was littered with art supplies and Steve’s shield was propped up against the couch.

The walls were decorated with artwork of vintage motorcycles and photos of family and friends.  One entire wall was boxed shelving, and each shell was full of books and vinyls.  There was no clear theme to any of it.  A boxed set of Harry Potter novels sat next to books on military tactics.  The Wizard of Oz series was there in its entirety but each volume was sitting on a different shelf.  The Wizard of Oz was next to a book on guided meditation.  Ozma of Oz was beside some vintage Captain America comic books.

Bucky was in the kitchen cooking.  He had his hair pulled back and a floral apron on.  The kitchen itself was quite modern and clean compared to the living room.  The benchtops were black granite and the fittings were all brushed chrome.  Bucky smiled when he saw you and came over and kissed your cheek.  “Everything is nearly ready.”  He said.

“It smells so good,” you said.  “And you look amazing.”

He pinched your hip and went back to his cooking.  “Steve, did you put your shit away?”

“Yes,” Steve lied, going straight to the coffee tables and bundling up the art supplies.

“That means your shield too,” Bucky said.

“It’s away,” Steve said.  He shoved the drawings and pencils into one of the gaps on the bookshelf before grabbing his shield and shoving it into the hall cupboard.

You chuckled and took down some wine glasses.  “It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, I will never get over the fact that he’s the messy one.”

“He’s always been the messy one,” Bucky said.  “Drives me crazy.”

“Can I help at all?”  You asked as you poured out three glasses.

“There’s a salad in the fridge.  You think you can take it out to the table?”

The table was already partially set.  The plates and silverware were out, as was a loaf of crusty bread.  You took the salad out and by the time you were sitting with Steve and taking your first sip from your wine glass Bucky was bringing out a serving platter piled high with risotto.

“So,” you said, as you all started filling your plates.  “What shall we do tonight?”

“Oh, uh…”  Steve said, almost dropping his fork.  “We thought dinner and if you wanted we could watch a movie…”

“Really?  That’s what you want to do?”  You teased.

“He’s being polite because he doesn’t want you to feel pressured to do anything,” Bucky said.

“Oh, I know.”  You said playfully, putting your hand on Steve’s.

“I just want to make sure you know that your friendship is important to me too,” Steve said, giving your hand a squeeze.  “I don’t want to put the sex above that.”

Bucky smiled and leaned over the table and kissed him.  Not that you could blame him.  You could practically feel your heart swell up.  When Bucky sat back in his chair, Steve looked a little love-struck himself.

“Then we should hang out as friends sometime,” you said as everyone started eating.  “Like we used to.  But I am wearing really expensive lingerie and I’d really like to show you it.”

“And I would definitely like to see it,” Bucky said.

“We were talking about just…”  Steve stopped mid-sentence and froze like he had forgotten the word he was looking for.  “You know… normal.”

You and Bucky looked at each other and bit back laughter.  “Ah yes, normal threesome style, Stevie.  Just the way everyone who has threesomes does it.”

Steve looked at Bucky deadpan.  “You know what I mean.”

“Well, yeah.  I do ‘cause we talked about it before.”  Bucky teased.  “What he means is because part of this is him getting to do some things he hasn’t done before, we’d like to focus on you and it just be…”

“... vanilla guy on girl sex.”  You finished.

“That’s the one,” Bucky said tapping his forehead.

“Gonna run the train,” you said and took a sip of your wine.  “Nice.”

“Is that okay?”  Steve asked.

“More than.”  You said.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything,” Steve answered.

“And just to be clear here, I’m talking to Cap.  Not Steve.”  You added.

“Oh,” Steve said, his posture stiffening.  “What is it?” 

“No,” Bucky groaned.  “Don’t invoke the Captain in here.”

“Just for a second.  I promise.”  You said.  “What happens if the others find out about what we’re doing?”

Steve’s jaw tensed and twitched at the corners as he thought.  “I don’t think we should go around bragging about it,” he said.  “But this is our personal business  We aren’t breaking any rules.  If the find out, they find out.”

“Besides, if Tasha doesn’t already suspect, then I don’t think that’s Natasha and we better find out where the real Natasha is,” Bucky added.

You laughed and nodded.  “True.  You know if Tony finds out he’s going to give you hell for it.”

“What’s new?”  Steve said with a small shrug.  “Besides, like he can talk.”

“Also valid.”  You said.  “Alright.  I just wanted to make sure.  I agree.  I don’t want to go telling … well anyone, but like Bucky said, Nat figures this shit out, and I don’t want to be lying to our friends.”

Steve reached over and rubbed your arm.  “I would never ask you to do that.  You aren’t our dirty little secret.  You’re our friend.” 

“God, Steve.  Saying all the right things tonight.  I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”  You said.

“And I’ve got second,” Bucky added, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand.

The three of you finished up dinner and cleaned up together.  Steve had been right.  The three of you needed to nurture the friendship too.  This was how this started after all.

When the kitchen was practically sparkling Steve came up behind Bucky and wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his neck.  Bucky closed his eyes and hummed softly.  He held out his hand to you and you took it and let him pull you into his arms.

His eyes opened and he blinked slowly, as he gazed down at you.  “Ready, darlin’?”

You smiled up at him as Steve’s arm snaked around you and he pressed his large hand to the middle of your back.  “As I’ll ever be.”

Bucky leaned in and ghosted his lips over yours.  You reached up and tangled your hands in his hair and pulled him into a hungry kiss.  Steve kissed and nipped at Bucky’s throat as the two of you kissed and pulled you a little tighter against Bucky.  You could feel Bucky start to harden against you and you pulled back with a quiet gasp.

“Bedroom?”  He asked.

“Bedroom.”  You agreed and Bucky put an arm around each of you and the three of you made your way down to the bedroom.

The room was painted sage, with gray trim.  The floor to ceiling windows on the far side looked out over the East River and beyond that, Brooklyn.  There were more shelves against one wall, though they mostly held little knick-knacks.  Things like a signed baseball, a Build-a-Bear dressed as Captain America, and model spaceships - the kind you built yourself.  Next to it was an antique drafting table with more art supplies and sketches littering it.  There were framed prints on the one bare wall above the bed, each one held different black and white photographs of the New York skyline over the years.

The bed was a king and had been made.  A crocheted quilt in dark red and white lay folded in half at the foot over the gunmetal quilt.  The bedside table on the left was clean and neat with a digital alarm clock, a dock for a Stark phone a worn copy of Dune.  There was also a basket with condoms and lube, the same as you had set up when they’d come to your place.  You wondered if he’d decided to steal the idea from you.  You couldn’t imagine that they were still using protection like that with each other.  The bedside table on the right was a mess of water bottles, notebooks, dog eared novels, colognes, and random scraps of paper.

You looked around as you unzipped your dress.  Bucky and Steve began to undress too.  “I’ve never seen your room before.”

“So many firsts tonight,” Bucky said playfully.

“Your bed is big enough to fit us three and Thor too.” You said dropping your dress and revealing the black lace push up bra and thong you were wearing.

The two men looked you over like hungry wolves.  “Two super soldiers not enough for you,” Bucky teased, stalking over to you and hooking his arm around your waist.  “You gotta include a god too?”

“Hey, I’ve been single for ages.  Let me have my fantasies.”  You joked, as he pulled you to him and lifted you, carrying you to the bed and dropping you on the mattress.

You lay back and arched your back as both Steve and Bucky crawled up with you.  Both had taken their shirts and shoes off, but while Steve was down to his boxers, Bucky was still in his jeans.  “You’re giving us ours, if you want to share yours with us, we’ll see what we can do.”  Steve rumbled as he kissed your neck and collarbone.  His hand ran down between your breasts and over your stomach, making your skin break out in goosebumps.

Bucky kissed the other side of your neck and tangled his hand in your hair.  “Threesomes are the most common fantasy you know?”  You half moaned.  “And they’re more common to have the older you get.”

“How do you know this stuff?”  Steve asked as he moved his hand to your cunt and he slowly began to palm it.

You moaned pushing up against his hand.  “It was in a documentary.  You guys are over a hundred.  So bringing Thor in would be good for you.”

Steve snorted while Bucky broke down laughing.  “We’ll keep that in mind, dork.”  Bucky teased and kissed you.

As you kissed, Steve kissed lower.  He paused at your breasts and sucked and bit at your nipples through your bra.  You reached behind you and unhooked it Steve slid it down and pulled your nipple into his mouth.  Bucky joined him at your other breast and they both sucked and bit your breasts as Steve’s hand slipped into your panties and he started to finger your clit.  You moaned and squeezed your legs around his hand as you writhed under them.

Steve moved down lower, pushing your legs apart and pulling your panties down.  He nuzzled at your cunt and flattened his tongue running it up your folds.  You put your feet on his shoulders and pushed your hips up into his mouth.  Bucky’s hand caressed your throat as he continued to suck and bite at your beasts.

The sounds you made got louder and louder as Steve became more and more focused.  You could tell he hadn’t done this before, but the way he moved was almost like watching him in the field.  He’d stop and cock his head to the side while his tongue flicked over your clit or his fingers moved inside of you, when you moaned just the way he wanted, he’d focus on what he’d just done.

As they brought your apart with just their hands and mouths, they kept touching each other too.  Stroking each other’s backs or legs.  While you moaned and bucked, your orgasm right there on the brink, they held hands.

Steve corkscrewed his wrist and sucked hard on your clit and you came, arching hard up off the mattress and crying out.  “Fuck, yes!”

Steve sat up, a proud little smile on his glistening lips.  Bucky got up on his knees and kissed him hungrily.  You wrapped your legs around Steve and began to grind against his erection as you unfastened Bucky’s jeans.  Bucky pushed Steve’s boxers down and began to stroke his cock and Steve groaned into Bucky’s lips, his cock jumping in Bucky’s hand and leaking precum onto your pussy as you rubbed against him.

Bucky broke the kiss and began to nuzzle at Steve’s neck.  “You gonna fuck her, Stevie?” He whispered.

Steve groaned and grabbed your thighs.  “Yeah, Buck.  I want to.”

“She’s so wet and warm, Steve,” Bucky whispered as he grabbed a condom.  “You’re gonna really like it.”

Steve closed his eyes and caressed his fingers over your stomach and cunt.  You reached up and cradled his jaw as Bucky rolled the condom down over his shaft.  Steve looked down at you, his blue eyes blown out with lust.  With a snap of his hips, he sunk deep into you.

You both gasped and you arched back as he lifted your hips up to him.  Bucky kissed Steve again before leaning down and sucking on your breasts against.  His metal fingers went to your clit and rubbed it as Steve started to slowly rut his hips against you, each thrust accompanied by a roll, so it felt like he was touching every part of you.

You felt like a live wire.  All your nerves were raw and stimulated as they made you the center of attention.  Steve fucked you slow and deep, filling you completely.  You gripped his wrists and rolled your hips with him.  Pleasure swirled through, starting in your breasts and cunt and meeting in your core.  It pressed down on you and radiated out until it was all you knew and all you wanted to know.  Your core clenched and you came hard, bucking up under them.

Steve was far from close though.  He picked up his pace, fucking you harder and a little more erratically.  Bucky began to massage the base of his cock and balls while his thumb rubbed your clit.  He switched from one breast to the next, keeping you right on the edge as Steve fucked you.

Steve’s eyes stayed locked with yours and his jaw tensed.  You jerked up suddenly as another orgasm tore through you, and with a hard snap of his hips, he came.

Bucky sat back as you relaxed down panting and Steve slipped from within you.  “How’re you doing there, darlin’?”  He asked as he ran his hands up Steve’s chest.

Steve kissed Bucky’s neck and got up, removing his condom and tossing it out.  “Really good, Buck,” you hummed.  “You gonna fuck me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Bucky replied, grabbing one of the condoms and sheathing himself.  You sat up and stretched a little and Bucky sat opposite you.  You climbed into his lap and lowered yourself down onto his cock.   As you began to bounce on his cock Steve moved up behind you and sat with his legs on either side of you and Bucky.  He kissed your neck and ran his hands over the two of you.  Caressing skin.  Pinching nipples.  He rubbed your clit and massaged Bucky’s base.

You and Bucky kissed as you moved as one.  Your lips moved from lips to neck and back again and the sounds of your moans combined with each other’s and filled the room.

Sweat began to bead your skin as heat flowed through your veins, burning you up from the inside out.  Steve hardened against your back as you moved.  You began to feel fuzzy and high.  Steve’s fingers worked your clit as you bounced faster and faster.  It wasn’t long before you came again, and Bucky broke the kiss with a strained groan, gritting his teeth as he tried not to be dragged along with you.  It was no use though, his hips jerked and he came just after you.

You stayed joined, slowly rolling your hips as his cock emptied.  Steve ghosted his lips up the side of your neck and nipped at your earlobe.  “You up for more?”  He said in a soft growl.

“Mmm… I could go again.”  You hummed.

Three and a half hours the three of you spent switching from one to the other, the only break you got was to rehydrate.  By the time you called defeat you wondered if you were ever going to learn your lesson about trying to keep up with the two super soldiers.

You lay panting on the mattress as Bucky and Steve both lay back, the sweat running down their chests in rivulets.  You cunt ached and your legs felt weak. You had a vague feeling like you should get up and pee.  Get dressed.  Go home.  You didn’t think you’d even be able to get up.  You could barely even think straight.  It was all soft-focused.

You struggled up too sitting and blinked around the room.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”  Steve asked, putting his hand on your hip.

“Gotta go home,” you mumbled.

“You’re exhausted.  Just stay.”  Steve reassured you.

“Yeah, darlin’, you liked cuddling with us when we were camping,” Bucky added.

“If I sleepover, then they’ll know.”  You tried to reason.

Steve sat up and kissed your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist.  “So they know.  We’re adults, we can do what we want.  Now lie down, you’re exhausted.”

You let yourself collapse back down, unable to think of one possible argument.  They both wrapped you in their arms and you were asleep before the blanket was even pulled over you.

// NEXT

[tinkerd]

Interview with Anne Both & David Litchfield first published on www.readingzone.com

A SHELTER FOR SADNESS TEMPLAR PUBLISHING JANUARY 2021

A SHELTER FOR SADNESS is a profound and moving picture book about how a young boy manages his feelings of sadness, not by ignoring them but in giving his sadness the space, care and thought that it needs. We asked author ANNE BOOTH to tell us what inspired the picture book, and illustrator DAVID LITCHFIELD about how he approached the illustrations: Q: What for you are the key ingredients for a great picture book? ANNE: For me, the words have to leave room for the pictures, the pictures have to capture the feeling of the words and extend the story, and both the words and the pictures have to be the best they can be for the demands of that book - be it a funny or a sad book or any other type. DAVID: Oof! that is a BIG question. I'm still trying to work that one out if I'm honest. For me what I personally love about picture books is that you can be transported to the furthest part of someone's imagination but still recognise yourself, and the world, in its pages. It's escapism but also empathy. It's crazy looking animals and creatures but they are experiencing some of the most human emotions of all. There are so many different ingredients that go into these books. But for me I think the ultimate goal is to tell a story that connects with children in the most imaginative way possible. Q: Can you tell us what you wanted to achieve in this book, about how we deal with sadness? ANNE: I hoped it would be good for both children and adults, and that it would help them cope with the type of sadness which stays with us and has to be coped with alongside everyday life. I wanted children to be told that they can build their sadness a shelter as early as possible, as I think that telling children to be 'resilient' (which is a good thing in itself) can sometimes be abusive - it can sometimes really be just saying 'don't tell us you are sad, even though as adults we are doing things which make you sad'. I think children have lots of things to be sad about - big and little things - and learning to build a shelter for their sadness can, paradoxically, help them have permission and space to be happy. DAVID: My hope for the book was to get children - and adults - to talk more about their emotions and how they are feeling. Don't just bundle them up inside. It's important to recognise how you are feeling, recognise that it's there and it exists. And talk it through with someone. A parent or a teacher, or just someone that you trust. The worst thing we can do as human beings is pretend that these feelings are not real and that we should just get over it. Q: Was there one thing that helped inspire the text? ANNE: Yes. I went to a talk at my church, and the speaker quoted this passage from Etty Hillesum; 'Give your sorrow all the space and shelter in yourself that is its due, for if everyone bears grief honestly and courageously, the sorrow that now fills the world will abate. But if you do instead reserve most of the space inside you for hatred and thoughts of revenge - from which new sorrows will be born for others - then sorrow will never cease in this world. And if you have given sorrow the space it demands, then you may truly say: life is beautiful and so rich.' (Esther 'Etty' Hillesum (15 Jan 1914 - 30 Nov 1943) I wrote our picture book text in response to Etty Hillesum's words, so I was trying to expand on her idea that we need to give shelter to our sorrow / sadness, as I thought she had such a wise and beautiful vision, which was, amazingly, born out of her immense suffering as a Dutch Jewish woman under the Nazis, and someone who would actually die in the Holocaust. It was written as my creative response to her words, so writing it actually helped me to think and pray about my own sadness, and I felt it would be a good picture book, to help people cope with sadness that just can't be fixed, but which we need not to overwhelm us or turn us to hate or bitterness. I loved the idea that if we give shelter to our sadness we can truly say that 'life is beautiful and so rich'. Q: Was it a difficult text to write, as it is so pared back? ANNE: I think that because it came after the talk, and hearing Etty Hillesum's beautiful words, and after meditating on, and praying in response, to them, I didn't actually want to use many words. I wasn't paring back anything as such, I was just trying to find my best response to her words, and the writing of it came all at once, but I think the writing wouldn't have come that way if I hadn't already experienced and thought a lot about sadness for years, and hadn't deeply connected with Etty Hillesum's words. Q: Why did you decide the main character would be a boy? ANNE: As I was writing from my own point of view, and in response to Etty Hillesum, I suppose I thought the narrator might be a girl, but I was open to any interpretation. I'm not sure if it was the publisher or David who decided the main character would be a boy, but I am very happy with that. I hope it speaks to boys and girls, men and women, and I think that there is actually something good about it being a boy, as from a very young age, little boys are told to 'man up' and are put under particular pressure not to cry or express sadness - all part of toxic masculinity - so hopefully this will play a part in countering that and telling boys and girls that there is nothing to be ashamed about being sad. DAVID: I'm not sure how this was decided. For some reason I just instinctively drew a boy when I was sketching the book out. I think that's a case of me very much seeing myself in the character as I was making the book. Perhaps an argument can be made that some boys need more help in facing their emotions than girls. But to be honest, I think I just instinctively recognised myself in that character and drew him as a boy. Q: David, what drew you to this text, why did you want to illustrate it? DAVID: As soon as I read Anne's manuscript I knew that I 100% wanted to be the illustrator. I received the project over two years ago and I couldn't start straight away due to other project commitments. I was so scared that Templar would not be able to wait for me. But I was so happy and relieved that they decided to wait until I had finished the other books I was working on. The text just really connected with me and it stirred up some very raw emotions in me. I also recognised that it would be unlike any book I had ever drawn before and the challenge of creating it was something that I really wanted to take on. Q: How did you decide how to depict Sadness? DAVID: There have been a few really fantastic books recently that depict sadness and other emotions as an actual character. Some of my favourites are 'When sadness Comes To Call' by Eva Eland, 'Me and My Fear' by Francesca Senna, and 'Ruby's Worry' by Tom Percival. All of these handle these sensitive subjects so beautifully and visualise what an emotion could look like in the real world. I see our book very much as a continuation of these series of books and the themes they follow. They were definitely a big influence on me when I was drawing the book. In terms of the look of our Sadness, I came up with a number of ideas in my sketchbook. One was a very ghostly, scary looking thing. The other was a teardrop and one was a cloud. But then I just thought about what a typical six or seven year old might draw if I asked them to visualise their sadness. All these confusing and conflicting emotions might come together and it felt like a really messy, scruffy scribble would fit the bill perfectly. Also, I remember trying to articulate how I felt when I was young and the words just wouldn't come out. So drawing a confusing, mess of emotions just felt right. It's also a really great character to draw. you really do feel like you are getting some emotions out of your system and onto the paper when you draw Sadness. Q: David, Can you tell us how you create your images and that special luminosity in your pages? DAVID: Everything starts in my sketchbook and I will plan the whole book out with lots of scruffy sketches. But once I start making the final artwork I usually begin by making lots of very messy watercolour washes, letting the different colours naturally mix into each other. I will also take photos of other textures such as the bark of a tree, or concrete or the sky. I will then scan all of this into my computer and experiment with overlaying each of them together until I find a look and feel that I like. These will then generally take the form of a background for a spread. The characters and buildings I will usually draw out in my sketchbook and then scan these into my computer also. Using Photoshop I will position these over the backgrounds and add other textures over them and just see what works. Basically, its a lot of experimenting and seeing what works with all these different types of media and textures. The luminosity is just an extension of what my art teachers have always taught me about shade and light. But I do like to play around with light and the atmosphere that can bring to an image. I think I really appreciated the drama of light from watching too many Steven Spielberg films growing up. Q: Do you have a favourite spread? ANNE: I love them all! I think the last page is so, so beautiful and gives me hope, but that is because of all the pages that came before, so I couldn't choose! I think David has done an amazing job - the book is so beautiful. DAVID: I like a lot of them. I love the penultimate page where the boy and sadness are walking through the blooming garden. I like the spread early on where Sadness is going through all of the different ways it is feeling and all the different actions it is taking. But I think my favourite image is the simple one of Sadness and the boy sitting together on the log. They are not saying or doing anything, they are just together and there for each other. That's one of my favourite illustrations I have ever drawn in fact. I love it. Q: Will you be creating any more picture books about emotions? What are you working on now? ANNE: I would love to write more picture books about emotions. I have an idea I am trying to find words for - it isn't coming as easily as A Shelter for Sadness but I hope it can work. I also have a little picture book story I am working on, and I am revising and rewriting a middle grade novel, and am waiting to be given edits for an adult novel and should be starting a second adult novel, so I have lots to be getting on with! DAVID: I hope so. I think I will always try and convey emotion in my books and hope that the reader can recognise their own emotions in these stories. Q: Where is your favourite place to work? ANNE: I work in bed (where I am typing this) and in a little writing hut my husband built me in our garden. I also write sitting on the sofa or at the table. When the pandemic is over, I am so looking forward to working in a coffee shop again! I do find it very helpful, when I have lots of work to do, to go away for a few days, to somewhere like Gladstone's Library in Wales, or beautiful retreats in England or France or Ireland I have been to. DAVID: My favourite place to work doesn't actually exist yet. I would love to create art in a cabin in the woods, surrounded by nature. Unfortunately I haven't found that place yet, but I have hope that I will one day soon. At the minute, due to lockdown, I'm drawing my books in the corner of my bedroom, which is not ideal as I'm quite messy and it's quite a small space. It can get a bit frustrating. But, every once in a while I can pretend that I'm in that cabin in the woods and everything feels right again. Q: Where are you most likely to be found when you're not at your desk? ANNE: Maybe out with my husband, walking our dog, or reading in bed, or sitting watching something lovely - I really appreciate good TV and films and I love watching them with other people. I love chatting with family and friends and visiting them. For a post-pandemic answer, I want to leave my desk and travel to see friends and family. DAVID: Mainly riding my bike with my two sons, or walking our dog Maggie, or listening to music very loudly on my headphones. Thank you Anne and David for joining us on ReadingZone!

See original post here: https://readingzone.com/index.php?zone=sz&page=interview&authorid=623a7c5192eb0909e0d251c44bae33c1

[writer-and-artist27]

Passing Days Chapter 9 Preview

Because there’s nothing like feeling sleepy on a work evening and “simping” (is that the word for it?) for a Chinese Saber Servant because you pulled him in the gacha 24 hours ago. 

So more writing, ahoy. I’m still working on it, so it’ll probably be finished in the next day or so. Or more. We’ll see. 

Roughly inspired by the many times my mom came into my room when I was working on something, bearing a plate of fruit to snack on or a cup of coffee. I love her a lot.

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Gao Changgong found himself in a small predicament. Now, before you ask, the “pickle” he found himself in wasn’t particularly dangerous. It wasn’t even life-threatening, nor was it horribly dire. 

It was a mere mental issue. 

He simply had no clue what to do when faced with the locked door leading to his new lord’s quarters. Unlike Yu Mei-ren, who as Akuta Hinako was awkward at best and quiet and seething at worst, Vy was gentle and understanding, no matter what situation he seemed to find her in. Unlike Gao Wei, who was far too stuffy for his own good, Vy was honest and selfless, constantly looking at what she could improve on and attempting to find the “best” way to appease others. 

In spite of those traits, nothing quite prepared him for the silence that followed a training session. 

When looking back on it, it was, in all honesty, how training was supposed to be. Chaotic, a bit messy, and overall rewarding. Fighting alongside Lord Xiang Yu and friend Yu Mei-ren was a gracious treat, even if they had never fought on a battlefield together outside of the Chinese Lostbelt up to that point. In spite of that fact, Vy had commanded them all patiently and, quite honestly, beautifully for a girl her age, minimizing damage from the opposing Divine Arms while charging their Noble Phantasms enough for a full counterattack to be completed in very little time. 

So Gao Changgong could not for the life of him understand why Vy had fallen completely silent since returning to the Wandering Sea. Aside from a few nods to Mash and Da Vinci, along with the occasional quip to Yu Mei-ren and some acknowledging nudges towards Lord Xiang Yu, she had since secluded herself in her room.

Gao Changgong also could not understand why the older veteran Servants of Chaldea had given him a simple look at his previous questioning of the situation before handing him a tray of food. 

“Bring that to Master before she falls asleep,” Archer EMIYA had ordered, a stern look on his face. “If you want answers as to why she’s quiet, it’s best that you go and find out yourself.”

“Why?” 

Even though it was an honest question, Gao Changgong still wondered why both the Lancer and Saber versions of Diarmuid turned away from view at that moment. 

Archer EMIYA at the time sighed, the lines on his forehead all the more prominent as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let it be said our Master is bad at taking care of herself, Saber.” Gao Changgong could not forget how his Class Name suddenly took prominence in the conversation. “And if you’re going to be a part of this group in saving Humanity, especially after what happened in the Synchronized Intellect Nation, then you’re going to have to do it like how we all did.”

“…On my own?”

“On your own.” EMIYA’s tone of voice made it clear that it wasn’t supposed to be questioned.  

Apparently the rest of Chaldea took after their only Master in how nothing was truly forgotten. Or forgiven. Gao Changgong couldn’t blame them. After all, he had originally opposed their goal in bringing back Proper Human History by fighting with his old friend who called herself a “Crypter.” Serving alongside them now for Proper Human History probably felt like a slap in the face. 

Thus, Gao Changgong helplessly stared at the food in his hands. It was a simple tray of warm soup — “gumbo” or something along those lines, Archer EMIYA’s more than his own — and a tall bottle of water opposing the small cup of freshly blended fruit juice. It was all enough for a modern lunch, or so the Holy Grail’s knowledge had claimed. 

Gao Changgong glanced between the dishes and the door still in front of him. The door itself was a pale white, just as much as the rest of Chaldea, the only signs of individuality there being the nameplate that adorned Vy’s name and a handmade paper sign underneath it. Looking at the paper sign closer revealed Mash’s careful handwriting with some kind of colored pencil drawing accompanying it. For such a rough and hurried sketch, the small poppy flower was rather adorable. 

“For Senpai’s rest, please knock to get permission to enter,” Gao Changgong read to himself. “Alright.” With a small nod to himself, he prepared his heart. Balancing the tray on one hand, Gao Changgong raised his other to gently rap on the door. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

Gao Changgong waited. One, two, three… 

Then, to his relief, a small muffled reply came from past the door. “Yes?” 

“M-Master, it is I. The Prince of Lan Ling,” Gao Changgong started as eloquently as possible, bringing his hand back to hold the tray. “Archer EMIYA requested that I bring you food before you sleep.”

“Oh…” echoed past the door before it proceeded to abruptly slide open. Gao Changgong took a step back just in time to see his new lord come into view via her standing in the doorway. He was not expecting to see the simple yet wrinkled snowflake-patterned pajamas and mussed-up hair on Vy’s person. She was normally very neat around the other Servants, keeping her Mystic Codes ironed and clean while her hair was in a professional ponytail, away from grabbing enemies. This, on the other hand, was… 

“Master?” Gao Changgong asked, softer.

Vy slowly tilted her head at him, her glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose as some locks of her now loose brown hair brushed her shoulders. “Saber?” she echoed him, blinking blearily at him. 

This was certainly going nowhere.

[imaginemic]

"ITS YOUR FAULT I CANT THINK CLEARLY. ALL I THINK ABOUT IS YOU" FOr RAMUDA PLEASE

You’ve never seen him like this - his pen pressed against his lips as he started at the messy sketch in his notebook. Sure, thinking was one thing - but he’s been in this position for a while, moving the pen so it either rested idly against his bottom lip or the tiny bear’s ear was caught between his teeth as he let out dramatic sighs. Sitting on his couch, scrolling idly on your phone you looked up when he tossed the book on his drafting table - scattering a few fabric samples off onto the floor.

“I can’t think!” He declared before slipping from his stool, pacing around before grabbing his sketch book and sitting next to you, shoving it into your arms, “This is your fault! Fix it!”

“My fault?” You blinked at him but opened up to the last page he was working on, a sketch of you on your phone the only detailed thing on the page.

“Yes,” He jabbed his finger against the drawing, “It’s your fault I can’t think clearly! All I think about is you! Even when you’re not here, look!”

He flipped the pages and you could see the half finished, barely composed designs he wanted to make all overshadowed by sketches of you doing random things - drinking coffee, sleeping on his fabric piles, staring out the window. You were at a loss for words - obviously you felt guilty that you were interrupting his process and keeping him from designing but you also didn’t know what to do. Maybe staying out of the studio would be able to help him focus but some of the pages were dated when you know for a fact you weren’

“Maybe we can work with these then?” You suggested, smiling as Ramuda tilted his head to the side as if to signal you to keep going, “Like this one,” You pointed to the sketch of you staring out the window, “Remove the whole… me… then you have the window with raindrops. And I think that could work if you want to work with vinyl pieces, but even a sheer glossy satin may work.”

“Hmm,” He hummed and took the sketchbook back, pen scratching out rough shapes before coming together to form a rough silhouette, “Yeah, I like that idea! I haven’t worked with vinyl so it’s gonna be a fun challenge! Look through the rest and jot down ideas from your sketches.”

He waved you off - returning to his normal behavior of being absorbed in design, grabbing the fabric samples off the floor where he pushed them and pinning them to his board. You smiled, catching him looking at you with the same happily dazed look he would give one of his completed garments before quickly turning to pull out sheets of tracing paper to start on his sketch. Maybe he couldn’t think clearly when it came to making the designs but he was lost in the method, hand flying over the paper as he drew out crude shapes and messy notes for himself. You watched him, entranced by how beautiful he looked being completely in his element before you realized that you too had the same problem as him. He was the only thing you could think about too.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

A Gentleman’s Guide to Dancing (chapter two)

For the ever wonderful @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

Chapter One

Please leave a comment on Ao3! 

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“And where do you think you’re going at this time of the day, young lady?”

It was their little joke, between the two of them, one that wouldn’t get old. Taako knew fine well where his sister was going when he caught her at the door, in her nicest day dress with her hair done up in elaborate braids protected from the wind by a silken scarf that had been a gift from their aunt, with a basket hanging from one arm that was emanating a distinct, sweet sugar smell.

“None of your business,” she told him primly but with a wicked grin, one that lifted her freckled cheeks.

Taako leaned in the doorway, eyeing his sister with his best impression of a stern older brother, “Definitely not going to meet that scoundrel of a blacksmith in town?”

“I’m sure I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Lup checked her hair in the silvered hall mirror, “The only scoundrel I know is you.”

Taako had to laugh at that, rolling his eyes, “Well, give Barold my best. Tell him I hope he enjoys the cookies I spent all of yesterday making…”

His sister turned a pleading look on him, delicately moving the basket behind her back, “There were only ten left anyway! And he does really like them.”

He waved her off with a dismissive hand, “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll just make more. Or starve, whichever. Have fun.”

Taako expected to hear the door open and shut in quick succession, Lup as eager as ever to go do whatever she did with her gentleman caller that he definitely didn’t want to think about. But instead she lingered, eyes now on him rather than her reflection though there were enough similarities between the two.

“Taako…”

He stifled a sigh. He knew this as well, as familiar as their joke, though this was starting to grate on him more. Lup gazing at him whenever she would leave to meet Barry, guilt and a little bit of pity in her eyes. Like she was tensing the bond between them, putting strain on it and felt like she should apologise.

Taako couldn’t stand that. He couldn’t bear the fact that his sister felt she had to apologise for being happy.

It was true that for years they’d had nothing but each other, knowing each other inside and out, forming shelters for each other when nothing else made sense. But the older they both got, the more he realised Lup needed more than him. She needed someone dependable and brave, who went around fixing problems. Someone she could build something with, rather than hide in.

Lup needed Barry in a way she’d never need Taako again.

He knew that. He just didn’t like being reminded of it.

He loped forward, meeting her in the square of morning sunlight coming in through the leaded glass, reaching forward and tucking a loose strand of golden hair back into the safety of the silk.

“You never do braids as neatly as me,” he smirked, patting her cheek before stepping back, “Go have fun, Lup. Don’t you dare come back before midnight.”

Lup looked as if there was more she wanted to say but eventually sighed, a small smile that was sad and grateful all at once, carrying the weight of everything they hadn’t said, “I love you, Koko. I’ll see you later.”

“Same to you, Lulu,” Taako fixed a smile on his face that carried nothing but what it was, quite deliberately, “Love ya.”

The house did feel so much emptier when she was gone.

Taako sighed softly, suddenly not wanting to go back to his book. He had the restless, fidgety energy that he sometimes got, the prickling under his skin and the swimming in his vision. He either needed to fire off some spells as quickly as possible or he needed to cook something.

Seeing as Lup had just made off with the last of the cookies he made the other day, he chose the second.

Taako was well aware that young men of his station were supposed to never set foot in the kitchen. But he was already clinging to said station by the very edges of his fingertips and cooking funneled his restlessness into something tasty and useful so he saw little harm in indulging himself within his own home.

He’d always loved it, in fact, and illuminating the manor’s kitchen with a wave of his hand brought a rush of fondness and, just for a moment, made him five years old again. Tiny and slight with ears so big he couldn’t hold them up and a broken heart in his little chest, still expecting his mother or father to walk through the door at any moment. Sitting at Auntie’s feet because he didn’t know how to be alone but for the first time Lup didn’t want him near. Finally getting himself absorbed in what she was doing, how she turned separate ingredients into something else, something new. If he followed her hands, became fascinated by the hidden, subtle magic of it all, then he didn’t have to think about why his sister cried all the time, why she seemed to have given up on mama and papa ever coming back, why they lived here now instead of their old house.

Even years later, when he and Lup found each other again, when they learned how to function with the raw, broken edges of their family, Taako still cooked. He bought books, telling anyone who gave him strange looks that it was for his Auntie, when really he would stay up all night making notes in the margins for possible amendments and sketching out presentation ideas. It was like his magic in a lot of ways. Taking separate things and making something new, something that hadn’t existed before and now did because of his efforts.

That was all Taako wanted. Making cakes out of flour and eggs and sugar. Making illusions out of simple electrical charges in the air, the patterns and eddies he could feel with his fingertips.

Making a future for his sister out of the mess he’d been up until now.

Taako gave a soft sigh and tied back his hair into a messy bun, a bastardised version of the neat queue it was normally in. He tugged on his apron, so faded it was hard to see it had ever been blue and white striped. Already his blue mood was fading, shaking off his hands like irritating droplets of water as he gathered bowls and ingredients from the pantry.

Lup had taken the last of the cookies but he found himself gathering sugar, the scalloped tins from the very back of the cupboard and some of the wildflower honey from Merle’s bees. Madelines it was then. Sometimes his hands made decisions before his brain did.

His ears twitched when the early afternoon sun fell on them, as if feeling the warm weight of it. The window, slightly ajar, let in nothing but a fresh breeze and birdsong. He settled into familiar actions and rhythms, certain in his actions, doing everything by eye with a sense of pride. And slowly, surely, like the honey running from the spoon, Taako felt himself again.

He whistled as he worked, summoning lemons right into his hand, tossing it from one palm to the other playfully. It wasn’t until the bowl was filled with perfect butter yellow curls of zest that Taako realised he was humming the song from the dance. The song that had carried him and Kravitz in a mad dance around the entirety of Countess Raven’s manor in a fit of burned frustration, wine and mania.

The thought brought a rush of heat to Taako’s freckled cheeks and the now waxy white lemon slipped through his fingers and bounced to the tiled floor. He retrieved it as quick as he could; with their funds the way they were, he couldn’t afford to be wasting ingredients. He’d lost the song but it still played in his head, as muffled as it had been that night, a counterpoint to the winter wind and the night owls that gathered in the woods.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself in irritation, continuing the stirring with magic alone just to have something to focus on. Something that wasn’t Kravitz or the way he’d smelled of polished oak or how cool his hands had been in the few times they’d ghosted over his own as they’d danced.

That wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It had been a nice wild moment, a release of the anxiety and frustration of a boring party, but he couldn’t see it existing outside of that night, like a flower that could only grow in a certain place with just the right soil. He wasn’t expecting to see Kravitz again. Now that the cold light of day had reminded them both who they were and what they were and just what was appropriate for them to be doing.

Taako began to spoon mixture into the scalloped impressions, lined up neatly like the world’s most orderly beach. Soon each one had a thick golden puddle in the centre, speckled with bright yellow. He took a moment to feel proud of himself and admire just how neat they all looked before banging them in the ancient, cast iron oven. He and Lup would scarf them down within two hours for sure. If any survived, he’d take them to Merle and Magnus in town.

He didn’t take off his apron or loosen his hair, not quite sure if he was finished yet. He simply magicked up a cup of tea and sat on one counter to rest his ankles, enjoying the kitchen filling with the smell of lemons and honey.

And suddenly it turned bitter in his mouth as a thought struck him, like his brain had just decided he was far too content and needed to be knocked back.

This could be the last time you get to do this.

Taako’s hands tightened around the mug, magic suddenly pulsing through his fingertips and leaving a hairline crack down the side. When he finally found a wealthy heiress willing to marry him- if, the sly voice corrected- it would hardly be proper for him to haunt the kitchen any more. He’d be expected to do whatever gentlemen did with their free time, probably hunt or drink brandy or scoff at poor people. A lifetime of pretending, of wearing a mask and hoping it eventually just fused to his face so he could forget there’d ever been anything underneath.

And that was if things went well. If they didn’t, in two months they wouldn’t have a home, let alone a kitchen. Destitution or a complete loss of the very few things he liked about himself. Those were his choices.

Auntie had sickened and gone so quickly there had been no time to formalise anything, to fill in the gaps that hadn’t been filled. Neither he nor Lup were officially recorded anywhere as her heirs, given that they weren’t her children, that she’d taken them in out of the goodness of her heart after not speaking to her twin since they were the age of the two children she’d suddenly acquired.

Taako tried to remember how he’d felt this time last year. Young, free, invincible. Able to outrun or outsmart anything that would dare try and trip him up. Unaware that life was just around the corner and it would always be faster, smarter and crueller than him.

If you weren’t the way you are, it wouldn’t have happened. Of course Auntie didn’t put anything in writing, she didn’t want a fuck up like you as her heir. If you were better, if you were even halfway decent, Lup would be safe.

Taako slammed the mug down on the counter, completing the destruction his magic had already done, though he didn’t stop and look back to see. Almost frantically he threw himself at the cupboards, pulling out whatever ingredients weren’t already assembled, anything he could get his hands on. He found more bowls, more spoons, his magic reaching out and grabbing whatever his hands couldn’t. And then he was moving, following a set of instructions that came from nowhere, latching onto them desperately so he wasn’t at the mercy of the rest of his mind. He didn’t care what he was making, as long as he could add something to the world in a manic attempt to prove his own worth in some small way.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Taako cursed under his breath, trying to steady his hands and dissipate his magic and his anxiety just as he’d done before, though this time it was like oil, just clinging tighter for all his efforts. As he went down the hall he did quick mental maths, trying to juggle in his head while moving his feet. If it was the milkman,they should have just enough spare silver rattling around to pay him, if it was the butcher he would take an IOU if Taako batted his eyelashes enough…

If it was a bailiff…

Taako shook that thought out of his mind and opened the door before he could lose his nerve

“Oh hello! I was hoping you’d be in,” Kravitz stood on the doorway, framed in winter sunlight, as effortlessly neat as he had been that night.

“I...yes, I’m in,” Taako said, apparently thinking that the only thing to do when stood in a doorway with the most idiotic gaping expression was to say something equally stupid.

There was a pause while Kravitz shifted his weight and cleared his throat, though he took the fact that Taako’s brain had apparently fallen out of the back of his head with good grace.

“I...I’m sorry if it’s a bad time or I’m interrupting,” he said with an adorably coy smile, “I was just going insane stuck inside of the mistress' mansion all by myself and had to get some air and, well...I don’t know anyone else around here?”

Taako relaxed a little. Maybe the honesty and openness from the party had survived, if only for a while, like a good kind of hangover.

“Well, you know me,” he flashed a smile, “And that’s really all the interesting people who live around here anyway.”

Kravitz laughed, a pleasant, deep, laugh with just a little rumble around the edges, “May I come in?”

Taako stepped to one side and gestured down the hall, though now thinking of the many jobs that needed doing since they’d had to let the staff go, the dust gathering in the corners and the grime on some of the windows where neither he nor Lup had got around to cleaning them.

But Kravitz’s eyes passed over all of that as if it wasn’t there, hanging up his coat on the stand. He was wearing a similar colour scheme to what he’d worn at the party, all black, but this time a loose everyday shirt and waistcoat, dark trousers with a high waist. Taako wondered if the Countess made black mandatory or whether her ward was consciously trying to fit in. Or maybe he just liked black too.

“Are you working on something?” Kravitz asked delicately, apparently paying as much attention to Taako’s dress as he was to Kravitz’s.

Taako looked down at himself, only just managing to bite back a curse. He’d left his apron on without thinking, still dusted with flour and a few golden honey stains.

“Oh, um…” his mind raced for an excuse as to why he’d be dressed this way, each wilder than the last. Rehearsing a play? This was the new men’s fashion for elvenkind? The flour was actually ground bone or some equally grisly spell component?

Kravitz seemed to sniff the air a little, the scent of lemon and sugar and lavender escaping from the kitchen, “Are you baking?”

Taako swallowed, hoping he wasn’t blushing but the burning in his cheeks said otherwise, “Yeah, just...just a little…” He searched Kravitz’s expression for any disdain, confused when all he saw was a polite interest. Maybe even fascination.

“It smells divine! I’d never have thought you would be interested in something like baking but you’re clearly something of a genius.”

Now Taako was blushing for an entirely different reason, “Well...it’s kind of you to say so. I’m interested in all kinds of cooking really, not just baking. I always have, since I was small.”

Kravitz just looked outright impressed and not even in a feigned way. Taako actually didn’t think his face could hold an insincere expression.

“That’s amazing. If I were left to my own devices with no servants or cooks or anything, I’d starve before the day was through.”

Taako’s lips quirked upwards, “Well, if that ever happens, just come knock on my door. I’ll keep you going.”

Kravitz’s eyes brightened, “That’s a comforting thought.”

Taako gave a slight chuckle, tucking loose hair back behind his ears, “Why don’t you come through? I can make coffee and the madelines should be ready soon.”

And that was how Taako ended up with the heir of one of the richest and most mysterious families for miles around leaning against his kitchen counter, drinking coffee and pouting adorably when he was informed that the madelines needed to cool before they could be eaten.

“Believe me, it’s worth it,” Taako grinned, after discreetly vanishing the shards of broken mug from his outburst, “When the sugar cools and hardens around the edge and you get that snap when you bite into it...that’s magic right there.”

Kravitz seemed to accept that, eyes wandering, “And what were you making over there?” He indicated the half finished mess of Taako’s frantic baking frenzy just before the bell had rung.

Looking at it now, Taako had to suck a breath in through his teeth and admit, “I...have no idea. I was kind of...improvising?”

“Oh,” he nodded, looking like he might have sensed the hesitation under the elf’s words and was deciding to ignore it, “So...if I was going to learn to bake, just in case I’m shipwrecked on a deserted island or something of that nature and I can’t get in contact with you...what would I start with?”

Taako smirked, “Does this deserted island have a fully functioning kitchen?”

“Let’s say it does.”

Taako puzzled it over for a moment, wandering over to the shelf where all his recipe books were haphazardly piled, no attempt made to keep them neat with how frequently he pulled them down and juggled them around. Most were dog eared, either from use, being second hand or a combination of both. Some, Auntie used to say, were from generations back, hand written in crumbling scrawls.

“Do you like sweet or savoury things?” he hummed, fingers walking over some of the spines.

“Sweet,” came the almost shy reply. Taako hid a smile, it was a little unusual that someone who dressed entirely in black and lived in a mansion decorated with black feathers and even some skulls would have a sweet tooth.

“Well then, let’s try cookies. We can throw some nuts in, islands have nut trees, right? Do nuts grow on trees?”

“Some do,” Kravitz sounded like he was reciting from a textbook, like he was a schoolboy facing a tutor and eager for a gold star, “Tree nuts like hazelnuts and pistachios and pecans. All others aren’t actually nuts, they’re legumes or seeds.”

Taako lifted an eyebrow. Someone clearly didn’t go outside enough as a child. He hopped up onto his knees on the counter so he could reach far enough back and snag the ingredients.

“Right, well, tree nuts it is. And plenty of brown sugar, the good sticky stuff that goes like molasses when you bake it…”

“You’re so knowledgeable about this,” Kravitz’s voice suddenly sounded so much closer than it had before. When Taako turned, he saw that he’d moved right up beside him and was offering out a hand to help him down.

Stunned, Taako found himself blurting, “I could float down. If I wanted to.”

He immediately felt a pang of regret as a look of hurt flashed across Kravitz’s face for just a moment before smoothing out into his usual polite smile. The hand snapped back to his side, “Of course. I should have known better, I’m a magic user myself.”

Taako’s guilt crystallised into sharp edges in his chest as he recognised an obvious attempt to change the subject. But still he nodded, playing along, as if the jar in their conversation had never happened, “I can sense it. What school of magic do you study?”

Kravitz stepped back to let Taako hop down, “Ah, I haven’t studied a lot, if I’m honest. I’ve never had a magical tutor of any kind, just my...just my mistress.”

That did give Taako pause, though he covered it with busying himself at the mixing bowl. Innate magic was a rare thing, not taken from any book or school but from the user’s own blood. It had a reputation for being incredibly powerful but, as a side effect, very unstable. Unstable wasn’t exactly the word Taako would use to describe his new neighbour but he had to wonder what had come first and what had followed, out of his wardship to the countess and this newly mentioned magic.

“Lucky,” he finally said, playing it off lightly as always, “All my lessons were painfully boring.”

Kravitz gave a soft, easy laugh, though he’d clearly been watching very carefully for Taako’s reaction.

Usually Lup was the only person ever allowed in the kitchen while Taako worked and even then she risked a slap with a wooden spoon if she got in the way. But seeing as this was a lesson of sorts, Taako swallowed his usual protective bossiness and gave Kravitz odd tasks to do, carefully talking him through the steps for each one.

And each and every time, he regretted it.

“I think you were a little hasty when you said you’d starve in a day,” Taako eventually snorted in exasperation, “I don’t think you’d make it until the early afternoon.”

Kravitz, now wearing a grey suit rather than the black one he’d entered with after the sack of flour he’d dropped had ignored his aesthetic, gave him a wounded look, “I could eat stale biscuits from the pantry…”

“The second you’d touch them, dear, they’d probably spontaneously combust.”

Kravitz’s hurt pantomime cracked and he gave a bark of laughter, “Fine, I’m hopeless. But I tried and, therefore, I should still get some of the spoils.”

Taako smiled at the neat tray of seven perfectly round balls and four misshapen blobs of cookie dough. Even with operating around a one man disaster zone, they hadn’t done a bad job. Sure there was flour piling up in drifts on the floor and it had taken them two sets of mixture after Kravitz had poured buttermilk into one rather than actual milk but he had a good feeling about them.

“Sure, I’ll take pity on you.”

In the fifteen minutes they took to bake, they magically cleaned the kitchen and sat talking, drinking the last of the now lukewarm coffee and eating madeleines. Despite some careful questioning, Taako learned very little about Kravitz in that time. Just that he’d been working for the family business in the city and had a passion for music almost as precious to him as Taako’s love of cooking. Still, the conversation was as light and comforting as any he’d had with his sister or friends, in a way Taako just hadn’t thought was possible.

Almost as if the gods had known he’d needed a friend right now and had dropped one on his doorstep.

It was evening by the time Taako had Kravitz back on the doorstep with a basket full of still warm, still delicious smelling nut cookies and madeleines. He was still apologising about having to leave, saying his mistress would be expecting him back before eight.

Taako shook his head, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll come see you next time, you can show me some of your pieces.”

Kravitz’s cheeks seemed to colour a bit, “Really? You’d be interested in that?”

“I made you cookies,” Taako leaned in the doorway and smiled crookedly, “I’m going to need something in exchange.”

They both laughed companionably at that, though there was something more serious in Kravitz’s expression afterwards.

“I had a really good time today, Taako. I’m glad I came over.”

Taako shifted, not liking the way that comment made butterflies wake up in his stomach, as nice as the words were, “Sure thing. It’s nice to have friends, right?”

Something changed in his expression then, something Taako couldn’t place in the second it was there before disappearing. A hesitation of some kind.

“Yes. It is nice to...to have friends.”

After exchanging goodnights, Taako watched Kravitz walk off into the gathering dusk, quickly becoming invisible as the sun disappeared behind the hills. He found himself nursing a small smile.

Even if it had been the last time he ever got to be himself, it had been a pretty good last time.

[xbelovedstar-dustx]

Blank Canvas

{Story set in my rp verse with @kaibagirl007 }

===========================

There were times when Seto loved his mansion. With it being so spacious, he could just work in silence in one of the rooms and avoid everyone. Than there are times when he hated how big it was, especially when he couldn't find something....or someone.

This was one of those times.

"Muffin?...Muffin?! Are you still here?" Seto called out through the mansion. About Two hours ago, Aqua texted him asking if it was to come over. At the time, he was busy with emails and other small mundane tasks for KaibaCorp to make Monday's work load a little easier. When he saw it, He was kinda deep and wanted to finish what he was doing, so he texted back saying he could, but he was busy so he wouldn't be able to greet him.

Well....That was two hours ago. Aqua didn't even great Seto himself. Just why did he come over anyway?

"Muffin?!" Seto huffed slightly. Damn he hated his mansion right now. And here he was excited for a cuddle session with his sugar muffin.

"Aquamarine?" Seto called out to a part of the mansion that even he rarely visited. There he heard soft singing of an angels voice. He couldn't help but smile softly and follow the voice to a door that was slightly cracked. Gently pushing it open, he couldn't help but blink from the bright Sunlight streaming from the window.

And sitting in front of it, was his sweet Aquamarine.

The smaller man was sitting on stool in front of an easel holding a small canvas. He was painting covered short overalls and messy t-shirt, and his hair was in a long pigtail. In his ears he could easily see earbuds in.

'Explains why he didn't answer me...'Seto thought with a soft sigh. Still he was happy to see Aqua and his heart melted at how cute his boyfriend was, singing and swaying to the beat, yet still was able to...do whatever he was doing. Just what was he up to?

Quietly walking over, he hugged Aqua from behind and laid his chin on Aqua's soft hair. Said name jumped and looked slightly panicked before relaxing. Giggling softly and pulling out his ear buds, he glanced up.

"Hey Teddy Bear, I thought you were busy working." Aqua asked. Both shared a quick kiss before Seto answered.

"I was, than I heard a beautiful voice and just had to follow it." Seto said, chuckling at Aqua's slight blush. While Aqua never saw his voices appeal, Seto did and loved to compliment him whenever he could. Before Aqua could argue, Seto's eyes turned to the Canvas and the sketch. It looked familiar...

"Is it...a blue eyes?" Seto asked and Aqua beamed.

"Yep...But which Blue Eyes~" Aqua said teasingly. Seto got a thoughtful look, before looking back at the canvas. It didn't look like any of his three blue eyes he had in his deck, and he doubted Aqua knew of the fourth that he....yeah.

So that left one option.

"Its Nacre!" He said grinning and Aqua nodded. Seto got a smug look on his face, and Aqua giggled.

"I finished the sketch and I'm proud of how it turned out, but I still need to paint it." He also stretched (Seto moved back when he did this).

"But I also need a break..." He sighed. Seto chuckled.

"Well you can always take one." He said smiling. "However, I must say Muffin It will never cease to amaze me how easily talented you are with art. You did something like this in just two hours-"

"Its been two hours?!" Aqua exclaimed and Seto laughed.

"As I was saying, you could do something like this in a short time span and it looks so perfect." Aqua rolled his eyes.

"Its not perfect, Her jaw is slightly out of proportion, her wings aren't fully symmetrical, her eyes aren't as detailed as I like-"

"You are your own worse critic Muffin." Seto said sighing and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend again. Aqua shrugged slightly.

"Besides this is just some practice..." He said before his eyes brightened, and he turned to his boyfriend with shining eyes.

"Wanna do a free style paint with me?" He asked excitedly. Seto blinked and looked at Aqua with confusion

"Aqua, must I remind you of Adena?" He said skeptically. Aqua gave a soft giggle before standing up.

"Yeah, I know." He started before grabbing another canvas and setting the nacre one aside. "But Freestyle has no rules! You can do whatever you please!" He said happily and looking at Seto.

"It could be fun, We could create something together..." He said with a hint of shyness and Seto relented. He really couldn't say no to Aqua...he just couldn't.

"Alright Muffin...you win." He said with an smile. Aqua giggled and started pulling out paints.

"You probably want to change clothes. Paint is messy, and takes....a lot to wash out." Aqua said laughing bitterly and Seto gave a smile.

"Alright, I'll be back in a second." He said walking back to his room. He didn't have a lot of "relaxing" clothes, outside of Pajamas, but he did have a pair of comfortable sweatpants and the aheago shirt he got for his birthday he didn't know why he kept it..

Walking back to the room he left Aqua in, He felt elated..excited! Was painting together something "normal" couples do? He gave a quiet chuckle to himself. Since when did he become so...comfortable with this feeling. He didn't know...and if he was honest he didn't care.

Walking into the room where he left Aqua, He saw that there was now a stool for him and Aqua was busy pulling out paints. He had this look of total focus on his face. It was a look that Seto wasn't too familiar with, but it was one that gave him shivers. And as soon as he saw that look, it vanished like the wind and was replaced by the soft, sunshine smile he loved so dearly when there eyes met

"Oh there you are! Come on, All thats missing is you!" Aqua said waving him over, which Seto happily obliged. Sitting on the other stool, Aqua handed him a paintbrush and held out an pallette of colors. Seto looked them all over before dipping his brush in Red Eyes Red and was about to start painting....

Except he didn't

Seto just....sat there, blank minded. He wanted to paint, but he didn't know what. Also he couldn't just undo a mistake like he could press backspace on his computer. It made him nervous...what if messed up and it looked bad?!

'This is why I work with technology..' Seto thought bitterly to himself

Aqua watched his boyfriend's eyes start to cloud over. Not a good sign as it meant Seto was over thinking...Again. Aqua gave a soft sigh before picking a paintbrush of his own. He gave a glance to the paint pallette and then Seto before a mischievous grin came to his mind. Dipping his brush in Blue Eyes Blue he painted a heart on Seto's cheek.

"What's the use of feeling blue~"

Seto blinked back to reality when he felt something wet on his cheek. Raising a hand, he felt something sticky...and heard his giggling boyfriend. A quick glance to Aqua was all he needed to know what happened. He gave a soft sigh before smiling...than looking at Aqua more closely.

Aqua has beautiful caramel skin, aside from a few tiny scars he got from childhood, it was perfectly flawless in Seto's eyes. It was also...clean. A small smirk came across his face.

Oh yeah...He knew exactly what he wanted to paint now.

Aqua's eyes were shut and he was still giggling. Seto leaned over and painted Aqua's neck. Said name yelped and looked at a now Smug CEO.

"Seto!!"

"Hey I was just painting on my Canvas~" Seto said teasingly before readying his brush for another attack. Aqua did a quick mental debate.

He could A. Use his magic and easily paint Seto or B. No Magic and get easily owned.

Both are tempting....and He shouldn't Magic to cheat when Seto was pretty powerless

Aqua gave a playful smirk and readied his own paint brush.

"Well then, It seems I have a very handsome canvas in front of me." He said waving his own brush. Both men were in a stand off, staring at each other with a playful seriousness.

They waited for whoever would strike first, a stillness was in the air.

Seto struck first, easily painting Aqua's neck more and making the smaller man start giggling. Damn Seto's speed! Aqua swiped his paint brush against Seto's forehead, and Seto instinctivly pulled back and gave a playful glare at his boyfriend. He quickly cleaned off his brush and dipped it in Baby Dragon Orange and grabbed Aqua around his waist and started painting Aqua's arms with random doodles.

Aqua started to laugh loudly and squirm. It didn't really tickle, but it did still feel funny to the smaller male and his skin was unfortunately to sensitive for his own good. Seto himself started chuckling. He couldn't deny how adorable his muffins laugh was. However his eyes drifted close while he was laughing, and Aqua struck back.

Using his magic to clean his brush, He changed the color to Dark Magician Purple and he painted Seto's neck and ears. Seto shivered and recoiled. He gave a glance to the giggling man next to him. Despite being painted on...he couldn't help but melt.

He was making Aqua laugh, a sense of proud filled him.

Until Aqua coated his paintbrush in Insect Queen Green and accidentally got it in his hair.

There was an errie silence for a second as both males looked at each other. Aqua suddenly looked worried and flustered and started trying to clean it off.

"Shit, I'm so sorry Seto, I didn't mean for that to happen! Oh Kami-" Aqua said in a rushed panicked voice. Seto took a moment to process what exactly JUST happened.

There was paint in his hair

It was green

It was probably ugly

His boyfriend is panicking. Wait What?

Seto looked to his boyfriend who's eyes darkned spectacularly. Which was never a good sign. So slowly..very slowly, Seto reached his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him into his lap, which made Aqua yelp than burst into giggles when Seto Nuzzled his neck, a clean part

"Hey now...I'm not mad." Seto said playfully kissing his boyfriends cheek. He grabbed his paintbrush again, and started painting Aqua's other arm, alongside just gently tapping his fingers on Aqua's stomach. Sending the smaller male in a fit of laughter.

Aqua squirmed and wiggled, but Seto had a tight grip on his waist so he couldn't do much. Except laugh, that he could do!

"Seto!" He managed to get out. "You absolute Bastard! You suck!" Which made Seto himself laugh. He knew Aqua was just throwing empty insults his way, and he just let them roll off his back. This was probably his favorite way to make Aqua laugh, and how he loved when he did.

But he also knew when to stop. The second he did Aqua panted, trying to fill his lungs with much needed air. He than turned to his boyfriend with a playful glare.

"One of these days, I'm going to find all your ticklish spots and go to town on you." He said, his eyes glittered with mischief. Seto gave his trademark smirk.

"I'd love to see you try~" It wasn't as if Seto wasn't ticklish, he was, but it was in very few spots, and Aqua only knew one. So he was safe for the moment. He turned and started to clean his paint brush, before handing Aqua his.

"Let's paint for real this time, Shall we?" He suggested and Aqua nodded and cleaned his brush. Coating the brush in Kuriboh Brown, he started painting a base of a tree trunk and branches, which gave Seto an inspiration.

Coating his brush in Dark Magician Purple, He started painting a resemblance of the wisteria he had growing in the mansion gardens. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was fun..and he was doing with the person he loved most.

Aqua on the other hand, cleaned his brush and pulled out his favorite color: Ra Gold. He started painting small golden vines on the tree, sometimes making small flowers along the way.

"That's beautiful Muffin." Seto said in a warm voice and Aqua's cheeks flushed with the praise. In return he kissed Seto's cheek and went back to painting. Both men painted in a blissful silence, occasion sounds of movement from cleaning a brush or a compliment.

Soon Seto cleaned his paintbrush for a final time and dipped in blue eyes blue, and started to create his favorite duel monster with accuracy. Well he tried at least. With each stroke of his brush, he felt a little less confident in himself and felt he was disrespecting Blue Eyes. His movements started to slow.

"Hey, It doesn't have to be perfect....as long as you had fun with your work, to me it'll always be a masterpiece." Aqua's soft voice drifted into Seto's ears and a smile worked its way to his lips. He placed a kiss on Aqua's head and went back to painting.

After a few minutes he stopped and sat his brush down. The form wasn't perfect, Nothing compared to Aqua's masterpiece of earlier....but it was his. It was theirs, and that was all that mattered.

"This is probably the most beautiful work of art I ever seen." Aqua said with a happy giggle and Seto rolled his eyes.

"No its not, Its nothing compared to what you can do."

"So? This is OUR masterpiece Mr. Kaiba and I will address it however I want." Aqua said in a playfully snobbish tone which made both men laugh before they shared a tender kiss.

Soft and tender, a feeling of happiness between the two before they separated. Aqua gave a bright smile before he looked down on himself and laughed.

"I need a shower..." He said and Seto chuckled.

"So do I...and I need my hair washed."

"Wanna kill two birds with one stone?" Asked the smaller male with a tone laced with mischief. Seto smirked.

"Are you going to keep your hands to yourself Muffin?"

"Hey it was you last time!" Both men gave another laugh as they started to clean up the area. Besides Aqua flicking paint at Seto a few times and Seto getting revenge, the place was clean in no time and Aqua held Setos hand.

"Ready to get clean?" He sang out and in response, Seto picked him up bridal style and started to walk out. Aqua clung to him and leaned on his shoulder. Looking back at their painting one last time, he aimed a little magic at it adding one final touch.

"Are you gonna hang our masterpiece~"

"Pssh, Probably not."

"Seto!!"

While the couples little squabble grew farther and farther, if one were to look at the painting now, They'd see an new addition.

A small golden lotus on top of the Blue Eye's head.

A few days later, Seto's Home office got a new decoration.

[hopiewrites]

Nobody - OHSHC

NOTE: big, big thank you to the person helping me write this fic, LT! i don’t think they have a tumblr so here is a link to their quotev!

pairing - host club x reader

ongoing series, chapter 3

word count - 4,180

chapters 1 & 2 up now!

-> back to masterlist

03

Forget-me-not Blue

Weeks had passed, and the daffodils began to bloom, welcoming spring into season that April.

(Y/N) was excited, even if things were barely starting to come to life. The early spring flowers had arrived, and that meant the butterflies and bees would start dancing around again, and the cherry blossoms would bloom, and everything would be alight with new life and begin the new year with vibrancy. She couldn't wait until she was able to walk through Ouran's gardens that would be full of roses and lavender and dandelions.

It seemed that the entire school shared her excitement, as the whole campus was vibrating with excitement and joy. The colors seemed brighter and the sky seemed clearer and the spring air was crisp and clean, brushing it's hands through the trees that were budding with new leaves and fruits.

All was well that day. (Y/N) got to spend time with her mother that morning before she had to run off to work, managed to remember all of her school supplies, and even got to finish her makeup on time; she was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a cherry wood brown turtleneck and a pleated plaid skirt, paired with the dirty vans she always wore.

She stayed late yesterday to make the food beforehand instead of going in early that morning, so she managed to get two extra hours of sleep, and felt relatively rested.

She decided that the day was good.

Everybody in homeroom was chatting amongst themselves, as usual, while cute drawings of different characters and flowers adorned the whiteboard with little phrases and words next to them. Her head was low as she entered, quietly making a beeline towards her usual desk and pulling out her notebook.

Something scrunched under her papers.

The girl moved her notebook, curious brows raised, and there, on her desk, sat a yellow sticky note, with a sun wearing sunglasses and a little daisy sitting around the neat, swirly handwriting that read;

Come to the club room after classes, We have planning to do~

Just when she thought she'd gotten away from them, they pulled her right back into their grubby hands.

She sighed, trying to hide the slight grin that made it's way to her face. She propped her head up on one hand, staring blankly at the whiteboard at the front of the room.

I wonder what's going on this time.

It wasn't long before everyone got settled and into their seats. Now, all she had to do, was wait.

- nobody -

Everyone is so lively today.

Even more so than usual, the host club's atmosphere was effervescent, seeming to bubble over with what she assumed was excitement – even the guests were basically dancing in their seats.

"So, Kyoya! When will the annual Spring Dance be held this year?"

"Yeah! Everybody has been talking about it already, we're all so excited!"

"Well, ladies, we plan to have it soon, in early May. We're actually having preparations being made at this moment."

"Oh, wow, really!? We have to start looking at gowns, then!"

"Yes, we're looking forward to it! I wonder what the theme will be this year."

Spring Dance?

"That, my dears, is a surprise. Just know that all the hosts have worked very hard to find only the best decorations and catering for our guests."

They all swooned at Kyoya's smooth cut words, alight with his usual false cheeriness. He smiled at his guests politely, listening to their excited rambling.

Huh. I should've figured they would have one. Just slipped my mind. Maybe that's why they wanted me up here, to help with preparations?

"Oh, (N/N)-chan!!! You look so pretty!"

Almost knocked back by Honey's embrace, she hid a giggle, letting him hug her – now that it's been nearly a month, the timid girl has gotten used to her elder's childish mannerisms.

"Hello, senpai. Um, thank you!"

He laughed cutely before letting her go. "So you got Tama-chan's note? I wasn't sure if you'd come visit us today."

"Yeah, I almost didn't see it actual-"

"Oh, Princess! Welcome!"

Yet again, she was scooped up into a pair of arms, but this time, she was twirled around and around and around, before finally her feet touched the ground once more, a pair of warm hands on her shoulders.

Her cheeks were pink from that welcome, and head spinning after that twirl; she still wasn't used to Tamaki's bear hugs. As nice as they were, they always made her chest flutter and twist, as if, suddenly, the only thing that was there was warmth, and a rosy cinnamon scent that she could lose herself in.

(Y/N) smiled.

"Hi, Tamaki-senpai."

"I'm glad you came today! We have many things to discuss, like the-"

"Spring Dance?"

"Oh! Yes. I'm guessing you've heard?"

His hands fell from her shoulders, as his head tilted like that of a puppy, blonde hair shining like gold under the florescent lights that hung in chandeliers from the ceiling high above.

"Well, just now I heard some of Kyoya's visitors talking about it- oh, I think you have people waiting, senpai."

She nodded her head towards the girls waiting patiently with smiles on their pretty faces. The taller nods. "Yeah, I'll tell you more about it later, okay? So don't leave!"

"Okay, don't worry! I'll be right here."

He smiled once again before greeting his guests and walking with them to a table.

She took it upon herself to sit, folded up in a sofa situated at the back of the expansive room, and plugged her earbuds in to block out the chatter that echoed. Plucking her journal out from her bag, she balanced it on her knee, continuing a sketch she'd been working on recently–a myosotis plant, more commonly known as forget-me-not's.

Small flowers, known for their symbolism of faithful love and reminiscent feelings; their color, known as "true blue," was the color of trust, loyalty and truth. She chose these flowers for an assignment in her art class, the project being on symbolism in everyday objects.

She was a bit of a nerd for those kinds of things.

From beside the focused girl peered a curious ginger over her shoulder. A pair of honey eyes roamed across the paper, watching as her hand moved and twitched, careful yet messy in a way he hadn't really seen before.

"What're you drawing, (Y/N)?"

Music drowned out his words, earbuds nestled safely in her ears as she just continued what she was doing, unbothered.

He decided to tuck his voice away for now, watching the pencil as it dragged across the paper, quietly. He moved closer, a sheepish smile playing on his lips as he crouched, propping his arm on the armrest of the chair, head leaning close to the oblivious girl's shoulder.

He'd seen those flowers before, overflowing in the pots that sit right outside his mansion's front doors, serving as a welcome whenever he arrived home. He never realized how pretty they were until that moment.

Soon enough she turned the page, and from the corner of his eye he saw a nonchalant smile pull on her cheeks - she wrote a message in her book.

How long have you been spying on me?

Kaoru chuckled, then pulled out an earbud of hers.

"About five minutes now, actually."

"Hm. You're such a stalker, you know that?"

Closing her book she turned towards the younger twin, headphone swinging and smacking Kaoru in the face as she moved; she held back an embarrassed laugh.

"Those are forget-me-not's, right?" His head tilted, lights reflecting in his eyes like constellations.

She lit up. "Yeah. I'm just doing rough sketches for a project I'm working on... I'm pretty excited to start painting it."

"That's right!" The girl jumped at his exclamation, dropping her journal with a thud, "We've never seen your paintings before. When will you show us your winning masterpiece, (Y/-"

"What's this?"

Her cheap journal was plucked from the floor by slim hands, mischievous eyes studying the contents of the page that had revealed itself from the prior fall.

"Wai-"

"Ooh, I never took you as the obsessive type, (Y/N)."

Kaoru stood abruptly from his crouch and walked over to where his twin was in front of the poor girl, lips falling open, just a bit, just enough to suck in a breath he didn't know he needed.

"And for Tamaki, no less!"

Imprinted on the thin pages of her grimoire, was an unfinished portrait of none other than Tamaki Suoh, eyes sleepy and hair a mess, but a smile as bright as the very sun. You could feel the warmth he radiated through the page.

What took Kaoru by surprise was how much detail was put into the whole thing, even if it was a bit sloppy. It looked like it held every color in the world, even though the only thing that was there was the dull, grey lead of the pencil and bits of eraser shavings caught here and there.

She jumped up and tried to snatch it out of the taunting male's hands, though he just held it over her head.

She felt like crying; nobody was supposed to see that.

"What are you all doing?"

None other than the king himself asked, taking long strides towards the twins. Hikaru couldn't get enough of this. For one reason or another, he felt acid deep down in his stomach that bit at him from the inside, but on his tongue was the sweet taste of hell's fire, and he would deal with the burning of his conscience later.

"Seems like you have another fan, boss! Look at this."

Though, the girl wouldn't give up that easily. She jumped up once again, eyes glaring holes through the auburn's head, and a shiver crawled up his spine. He almost considered giving it back. Almost.

Tamaki was there now, and it felt like everything was in slow motion for her. Yeah, maybe she was being dramatic, but she couldn't help it. That was private and special to her, not to mention how embarrassed she'd be if he saw it.

(Y/N) disregarded how she was now chest-to-chest with Hikaru Hitachiin, and how pink dusted his cheeks as his eyes slanted down at her own ones in a silent declaration of war. The tips of her toes kissed the marble of Ouran's floors as she leaned against the much, much taller male in effort to get back what was rightfully hers, but he only stretched his arm out further, completely ignoring everyone else's presence in the now emptying room.

In that moment, nothing mattered to either of them. There was nothing else but each other and the mutual feeling of a bloody red.

...Save for the other club members of course, who watched the whole ordeal with amusement.

Kyoya sipped on his earl grey. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Hikaru is flirting, wouldn't you agree?"

Haruhi's hand clasped over her mouth in an effort not to laugh. She hummed in silent agreement. "Yeah, I'd definitely say so."

"(Y/N), you drew this...?"

It was those words that were the rain that washed the fire to ashes,  though the biting heat lingered even when she pulled apart from Hikaru. His glare snapped to the wall as he avoided eye contact. Her skin was red with embarrassment and anger, blood boiling and burning her from the inside. The older twin only stood, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together with an angry pout plastered on his rose petal lips.

Though, what she didn't know was that Hikaru was nauseous with the nasty aftertaste of guilt, pitchforks stabbing at his lungs, making it hard for him to do anything but clench his fists and bear it. He didn't care about how he made her feel. Why would he? She was just another one of Tamaki's stupid fangirls.

Right...?

He couldn't keep himself from glaring over at (Y/N) one last time.

- nobody -

Tamaki cleared his throat, clapping his hands together as all the hosts gathered and watched him.

"So, as many of you know, the annual spring dance is upon us, and we've already booked the grand hall for the ceremony."

(Y/N) listened curiously from her seat beside Mori, whom she felt safest by at the moment. He didn't ask questions; he didn't pry; he didn't do much of anything, really. His quiet presence was cooling against the fire raging red underneath her skin.

"I thought we should all gather to choose a theme. Last year's was royalty, and the decorations and dress code played off of that."

That's so like them. The girl grinned quietly to herself, finding their predictable nature entertaining. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

The girl hesitated, just for a moment, swallowing Hikaru's thorny glare like sour medicine.

"What about a vintage theme?" She spoke.

"Vintage theme...?" Tamaki questioned aloud, tilting his head slightly, just like she noticed he'd always do when thinking.

"Yeah. Like age old antiques, soft colors, lace, the like. Unless you've already done something like that, I mean.."

"No, no. Actually... That's a really good idea, (Y/N)," Kyoya flipped through his little black book, jotting down the girl's idea.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

(Y/N) shifted at the sudden voice beside her, quiet but not shy. Mori wasn't even looking at her, not sparing a single glance her way, his face bearing the same sea glass expression.

She took Mori's words to heart, those words he probably thought nothing much of. She then elaborated her thoughts, a little clearer, a little more confident.

"I think it would be really elegant, not to mention economical. We could maybe even visit a few antique shops for some of the decorations."

No one added anything in, silently willing her to continue.

"Soft colors, like cream and periwinkle and mauve would do. Maybe we can even make some kind of dress code."

Still, no one.

"...I don't know."

"That's a wonderful idea, (N/N)-chan!" Exclaimed Honey from his cozy seat on Mori's lap.

"Yeah, we've never done anything like that before. It could be really pretty," added Kaoru.

Kyoya chimed in, "Any other ideas?"

"Nope! I think this is what we're going for this year, my dear Kyoya!"

As the hosts scattered amongst themselves, Honey tucked his arms snugly around (Y/N)'s legs with a wide, sweet smile; too wide, too sweet. In the moment, though, the girl was caught up in catching butterflies in her stomach. They listened to me, she thought. Her hands subconsciously found their way around the short male's small frame, as they tended to these days.

"(N/N)-chan, do you wanna walk with us outside?"

A sheepish smile stretched her lips as she replied. "Can't, senpai. I have to prepare tomorrow's food."

"Oh, about that, (Y/N)."

Honey reluctantly loosened his hold and marched back to his tall companion. Kyoya stood at her side now, tucking his phone away safely into the pocket of his trousers.

She hummed, listening.

"We're not opening the club tomorrow, so you don't have to have anything ready. Just go home and get some rest."

(Y/N) turned her head to peer up at him. His eyes were unfocused, looking out at the blooming colors of spring outside the windows. She didn't understand what he was thinking or feeling, or if he was feeling anything at all for that matter.

In that moment, he reminded her of the darkness that separates the stars.

- nobody -

The walk home was full of life, unsurprisingly. Wildflowers and green grass lined the roads, honeybees buzzing happily as they kissed the flowers and danced with butterflies. There was still a few hours of the day left, judging by how the sun was strung in the sky, so instead she decided to walk to a local park. It was small and well-worn but very peaceful, with its rusty swings and small pond.

Ducks waddled around in and out of the water. Birds chirped back and forth in the few trees as a lady struggled to keep her small dog from chasing a poor squirrel scurrying around the base of an oak.

Settling on the swings, (Y/N) took a second to unwind. The wind was soft and carried the scent of wild roses as it soothed her skin. There were yellow daffodils happily swaying by the pond. Everything was okay in that moment.

In a swift movement the girl kicked off her shoes and hopped out of the swing, laughing at herself when she stumbled. The grass felt like silk on her callused feet as she stepped towards the large rose bush, crouching to smell its pink petals. Carefully, she plucked one, two, three, four roses and skipped away to gather a few daffodils, cattails, and dandelions.

For mom, when she gets home.

Right as she was about to steal a pinecone from its branch, her phone vibrated annoyingly in her pocket.

2 new messages from " the host club 👑✨💞"

Since when was I in a group chat??

Ignoring it, (Y/N) decided to check it out later. How did they even get her Instagram though? It didn't matter, she figured. She'd probably spent far too long at the park, anyway, if the creamy orange beginning to color the sky was any indication. It was time to head back home.

With all different kinds of plants gripped securely in her dirty hand, she retrieved her discarded shoes and gingerly walked back towards her neighborhood.

- nobody -

It wasn't until (Y/N) found herself sprawled across her bed and once more attempting to wrap-up her forget-me-not sketch that she remembered the notifications she had received from the host club prior.

The mixed bouquet of wild flowers she had managed to concoct was placed on her mother's nightstand, along with a note on which she had scrawled a short but sweet message the moment she arrived back home. Aside from that, the only things she had her mind set on were homework (regardless of how little she was assigned), dinner, and sleep. It's true, she was tired,  a bit hungry as well, but she still chose to squeeze in some relaxing time to comfortably let her pencil dance across the designated page within her journal.

It almost amazed her how lost in thought she would find herself whenever she decided to let her creative side flow as freely as it did. It's as if she would switch over to autopilot and let nothing but her hand take control while her mind soared with an intoxicated sort of vigor as it explored every idea that subconsciously came to her head.

It was for this exact reason that it took her several moments to register the lit-up screen of her phone lying atop the cluster of unmade sheets just inches away.

Setting down her pencil, (Y/N) diverted her attention to the rectangular device and awkwardly shifted positions before picking it up and unlocking it. The number of messages from earlier had since multiplied, a prominent 61 plastered on the corner of the application.

haruhi.fuji: Well I know of a few thrift shops around near my apartment. You can find all kinds of hidden gems there.

haruhi.fuji: Don't know about antique stores though, but (Y/N)-chan might know of some.

tama_king: Thrift stores????

(58 more messages)

The corners of her lips upturned just enough for her to notice.

She opened the app and scrolled through the messages, skimming through notifications and following each member back. Well, accept for Hikaru, who hadn't even followed her in the first place. Hesitantly, (Y/N) typed out a message, then deleted it, then typed it out again, then deleted it. The girl sighed, chewing on her cheek, trying to decide what to say.

tama_king: Look (Y/N)s online!!

Well, leave it to Tamaki to point her out. Said girl settled for a simple greeting.

(username): hi everyone!

haruhi.fuji: (Y/N), we were just talking about what kind of decorations we should get for the spring dance.

(username): oh, well i figured we could just go looking through local shops to find authentic antique decor

haruhi.fuji: Like all of us out shopping together??

tama_king: That sounds like fun we should go see all the commoner shops together!

(Y/N) suddenly had regrets. All eight of them, six of which all likely hadn't ever even heard of a thrift store before, out and about? Even if she was starting to grow used to the lot of them, it was a whole other thing to be seen out in public with them. It wasn't that (Y/N) was embarrassed of them, but more so bothered by how much attention they seem to bring towards themselves. The socially awkward girl wasn't sure if she could handle that very well.

(username): i mean, sure??

haruhi.fuji: That sounds... ;;;

(username): yeah ik, migjt not be the best of ideas i've had huh

(username): *might

She quietly laughed to herself, trying to shake off the dread that was already piling on her shoulders.

tama_king: No, it sounds like a great idea!!

The "Oh, what have I done," slipped past her lips as she saw none other than Kyoya himself finalize the plans.

KyoyaOotori: I see you three have been planning an outing?

KyoyaOotori: And when are we all going to do this?

It was funny, because she could practically feel him shaking his head through the screen. Maybe the two of them were more alike than she had originally thought.

She decided then that she might as well go through with it.

(username): well, earlier you said i didn't have to prep for tomorrows guests, so i'm free tomorrow after school.

tama_king: The host club was planned to be closed tomorrow for preparations to be made for the dance. i'm sure our lovely guests wouldn't mind. so Kyoya, is tomorrow okay to go out shopping?

KyoyaOotori: I suppose that it would be a good learning experience to see what low-budget commoner living is like. So, yes, that sounds just fine. I'll make sure to let the others know.

It looked like all had been settled, so she switched the device back off and let it sit to the side. The sound of the door clicking shut and the A/C being tampered with alerted the young girl of her mother's arrival home, so she skipped into the doorway to greet her.

She looked tired, just as she always did, with the same empty smile and hollow eyes. (Y/N) hugged her and in a small voice, said hello.

"Heya, Pumpkin."

There was nothing else to be said as the woman kicked off her shoes and walked into her room, no doubtedly to sleep until she had to drag herself back out to work again. (Y/N) hoped she liked the flowers she had picked out for her.

Sometimes there is no worse feeling than guilt that will eat one out from the inside.

She felt as though the way that things were running in her house functioned like an unbalanced scale. Her mother always came home exhausted and worn-out as the result of working from dawn to dusk, and it hurt the young girl's heart to see her in such poor condition. It wasn't extremely often that she would even get the chance to say hello, and rarer still that she ever had the time to hold a good conversation.

They both loved each other more than life itself, and (Y/N) knew that better than anyone else, but with all the overbearing work her mother put up with, day and night, everything just seemed...

Unfair.

Bitter and unsavory thoughts aside, one glance at the clock on the microwave reminded her of the looming drowsiness she felt gradually washing over her. It had been a long day, and the next was certain to be even longer.

With this in mind, she experienced little to no hesitation before striding off towards her bathroom to ready herself for what she hoped to a good night's rest. Once she was curled up under the cotton sheets and had her stuffed animal of choice in a loving grip (not caring about how childish she may have seemed), the bluish light of her phone caught her attention as she slowly and reluctantly lifted up one eyelid.

Reaching for the device resting on her night stand, she opened both eyes; given how she hadn't really been exposed to the darkness of her room for a prolonged amount of time, it didn't take long to adjust to the screen's luminescent glow as she focused on the message displayed on her lock screen. A single notification was shown, and (Y/N) couldn't help but allow a small smile to make its way onto her face once she had processed what it read.

haruhi.fuji: Good luck tomorrow, (Y/N). Hope you'll be able to handle a few hours out with those goofballs.

[365daysoftododeku]

16th Decemer 2019

Author: Kenyoda

________________________________________________________________

Behind the scenes

Izuku was rushing across the parking lot, cursing his luck. He was going to be late for shooting. He was never late! And on the first day, too! In his rush he nearly bowled over another person entering the building. He tried to stop but his momentum carried him forward anyway and he ended up pinning the poor stranger against the door, glass rattling ominously. 

“I am— so sorry!” he panted as he tried to regain his bearings. He finally pulled back, allowing the person to step away from the door and shuffle away from him a bit. 

“I-it’s fine,” came an equally strained voice. Izuku winced, he had already made a bad first impression. Oh no! Still running late! He sketched out a messy bow before racing through the doors with another apology ringing over his shoulder.  He made it to set with 3 minutes to spare for make up call. 

“Hey! You made it!” greeted a voice, enthusiasm on full blast. He looked up from being hunched over to see blonde hair and wild red eyes. 

“Morning Kacchan!” he gasped as he stood up. 

“You were almost late, ya dingus!” he huffed as he swept him under his arm for a noogie. 

“Ack! Kacchan no! My hair is a rat’s nest on the best of days! Don’t make more work for them!” he groaned. Kacchan just laughed and rubbed harder. 

“That is what they are paid to do anyway!” he chortled as he let Izuku go. 

“That’s rude, Kacchan!” Izuku hissed, mortified slightly as he watched a few of those makeup and hair people glare their way in offense.

“What? It’s the truth,” he stated, confusion evident in his tone. Izuku sighed, he loved his childhood friend, but he had all the social graces of an elephant in a china shop. Bakugou Katsuki was enthusiastic and well meaning but unbearably blunt. Most people blew him off as an airhead and rude. When he was actually quite intelligent and not prone to sugar coating things. Which in Japan, could easily be considered rude. His attention was caught when two deep voices reverberated across the set.

“I am telling you Toshi this is not a good idea!” 

“Calm down, Enji! Most of the show’s main cast are children! He will get to spend time with some of his peers. At least give the boy a chance.” Izuku looked up and about expired on the spot. Yagi Toshinori and Todoroki Enji were making their way onto the set. Between the two actors there were nearly 20 different acting awards from stunt work to acting. They were his and Kacchan’s idols!

“It’s— It’s Yagi-sama and Todoroki-sama!” Izuku couldn’t help but squeal in delight. Katsuki let out a gasp beside him.

“I know that, but you know how Shouto is,” Todoroki continued. 

“Yes, I am well aware of my honorary nephew’s tendencies. This will give him a controlled environment to practice in.” Yagi soothed. Shouto? As in, Todoroki Shouto, one of the few well known student directors in Japan? Son of the man himself?

“Yes, I know I said I wanted to get him out from behind his camera but I was thinking more of a school setting Toshi! Not a mid level production with him in a semi recurring role! This is his first one and you throw him in with sharks! Not to mention you know that Aizawa Shouta is set in his ways! Ways that make little sense to the rest of us mere mortals!” the man complained. Izuku’s curiosity is piqued. Todoroki Shouto will be acting in this production, not directing?

“I tried to find him something smaller but with a similar age range. There was nothing else!” Yagi protested. “Besides he insisted!” Todoroki sighed reluctantly. 

“Where is the boy anyway?” After a moment, another person shuffled onto the set, but Izuku’s attention was drawn by the director. 

“Midoriya! Bakugou! Get to make up. Now’s not the time to gawk we all have busy schedules!” barked Aizawa Shouta. Izuku squeaked in terror and rushed off to the other area.

 After a whirlwind of makeup and hair spray, Izuku finds himself scaling the fire escape of a low income building. He leapt onto the roof with the shadow of the thief ahead of him. 

He was now Valor, a parkour crazy sidekick that was on the heels of a thief with known ties to a cartel that he and his hero mentor were tracking. This was going to be his first capture, he was so close… 

An arch of lightning lit up the night before slamming into the would be thief. Valor slides to a stop as the thief slumps to the rooftop, unconscious. 

“The reward for this one should be good,” a smooth voice purred. Out from behind a duct vent came a lithe figure. They topped Valor by a head. Their streamlined shape and deep timbre suggested that they were male. 

A bounty hunter. 

They were vigilantes that exchanged villains with prices on their heads for money, rather than turning them over to the proper authorities. This was usually bad on the heroes end if they needed information or to retrieve stolen items or people. Because the bountied person usually was never seen again. 

“I can’t let you have him,” Valor called, stoutly. “He is wanted for questioning by the Heroes Alliance!” The hunter looked over at him and Valor could feel the smirk on the man’s face. He bristled at that. Two eyes flashed at him from a window in a hard mask. It was as dark as the rest of his clothing. The end of the staff in his hands arched with electricity. 

It was just his luck that he ran into a bounty hunter with backing! Just as he finished the thought, he had to dodge an arc of electricity. Instead of retreating he rushed forward, using his momentum to knock the weapon away with one hand while punching at the bounty hunter with the other. He fell with a grunt as his weapon clacked onto concrete before rolling away. Valor pinned the hunter’s legs with his own, before slamming the hunter’s arms above their head. 

“Who are you?” Valor barked. The masked figure laughed. 

“You ask me that after you straddle me?” he teased. Valor pushed the blush and embarrassment away. 

“I-I asked you a question first,” he ground out, frustrated at the slight tremor to his voice. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the hunter sneered. Valor snarled in anger before pinning both arms down with one hand and ripping the mask from the stranger’s face. 

He gasped. 

Skin the color of porcelain housed thin pink lips and eyes the color of smokey quartz and turquoise. A bright red birthmark covering the left side. A halo of ruby and crystal hair fell around an angelic face, the strands having slipped free of a ponytail. 

Izuku froze and his heart stuttered violently. He could not recall another one of his lines. His entire brain had decided to devote all of its remaining firepower to committing such a lovely face to memory. The porcelain skin turned into rose gold as his co star flushed under his scrutiny. 

“Who— are you?” he found himself whispering. His co star gasped and began to struggle against him. Izuku pressed his weight down automatically. They stopped moving. 

“I’m— ”

“Valor! Valor, my boy!” Ever Bright’s voice snapped Izuku from his daze. Oh my god, I zoned out in the middle of scene!

“E-ever Bright! There is a— ack!” he cried out as the hunter gave a hard buck and finally unbalanced him. He landed hard on his side. By the time he got his barings, the hunter was on the other end of the roof, preparing to jump. 

“Halt, vigilante!” came Ever Bright’s booming voice. The hunter turned his head back to stare Izuku down. The well timed wind blowing a few strands of ruby hair across the piercing jewel colored orbs, obscuring his face. 

“Valor, huh? How fitting!” he taunted, before leaping off. 

“And cut!” came Aizawa’s voice. “Y’all aren’t useless after all! I might need to do some revisions.” Izuku sunk to his knees at the off handed praise. 

“Well done, young Midoriya! You are carrying your role well for your first day!” Yagi said as he patted his shoulder. Izuku felt light headed. He had been complimented by Yagi Toshinori! Even after monumentally screwing up a scene because his useless bi ass was floored by a pretty boy! “You too, Shouto!” Izuku’s head snapped up. 

The young hunter had come back onto the roof and was gathering the props to hand off to the assistants. He jerked up reflexively before turning crimson. One of the assistants took the items and scurried away. Once there was nothing in his hands, the boy immediately began playing with his fingers and looking anywhere but at them. He mumbled something unintelligible to the air.  

“Shouto, I have heard you be louder than that when you are giving stage direction!” chided Todoroki Enji as he made his way over. “But I agree with Toshi! That was excellent work, son!”  

Shouto shuffled in place, a small pleased smile tugging at his lips. 

“T-thank you, but was it really ok?” he asked softly. Izuku felt the equivalent of mental whiplash. This was the same person that was borderline flirting with him mere moments ago? It was had to believe it! It seemed that not only was Todoroki Shouto a talented director, but also a pretty talented actor, too. Not to mention just plain pretty. Most anyone ever saw of him was half his face hidden by a hoodie.  

“Ah! How rude of me!” Yagi cut in suddenly. “Young Midoriya, this is Todoroki Shouto! He is like one of my nephews! He will be playing the vigilante and bounty hunter, Nexus.” Izuku nodded, unable to speak and wrestle his inner fanboy into submission at the same time. “Shouto, this is Midoriya Izuku a newcomer that is already showing promise!”  

“H-Hi! I love your work, Todoroki-kun! I hope you don’t mind the -kun. Wow, the make up artists must be really good, your hair and eyes are really striking!” he said, babbling slightly out of nerves and butterflies in his stomach. The boy blinked at him, before his eyes went wide. Once again Todoroki Shouto turned bright red. He worked his mouth but no sound escaped. Izuku decided then and there that a strategic retreat was in order. He politely excused himself and bolted for the nearest exit. Just as he passed to the outer edges of the set, he heard Yagi-san’s voice. 

“Just as well he doesn’t know that these looks are natural, eh, nephew?” This was followed a weak whine that Izuku could easily identify as one of embarrassment.

“Toshi!!!” chided Enji. 

Yep, Izuku was going to go find a hole to crawl into. 

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