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tenderlyrenjun · 1 year ago

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Personal Trainer

When Park Jisung told his roommate - Jeno - that he wanted to start working out, Jeno told him that he was already working out.

And Jisung deadpanned.

Jeno teases him too much. He had to clarify that he wanted to start working out more intensely, like Jeno and Jaemin. Although, Jaemin uses the gym to deal with a break up, unlike the rest of them. Still though, Jisung wants the same result, and he thought that Jeno would get the hint, that he wanted Jeno to train him. But Jeno just forwarded him the number of the front desk person at his gym: you.

You also happen to be a trainer ... and were the only available person to do his kick off session, a free, one-hour personal training consultation to, essentially, gauge his goals, set up his work out plan, etc. So, reluctantly, Jisung accepted (he had to) - mainly because Jeno actually really had no time to consistently train him like you, nor did Jaemin, and he wasn't about to ask Renjun for breathing exercises.

But then, everything changed when he found out that you're hot.

To his first session, Jisung arrived early.

Surprisingly, Jeno's gym is an easy 15-minute walk from their apartment; five minutes, if he felt energetic enough to run, but he wanted to give himself time to mentally prepare for meeting a stranger. He never really goes out, except work and stuff, preferring to stay home. Unfortunately, he hopes to eventually make the gym part of his routine, so he has to get used to seeing new people. Plus, the extra few minutes let him get a lay of the land before his muscles inevitably gave out in front of a girl.

And besides, you were running a few minutes late to your shift - not that his session started with your shift. You staggered it by about 15 minutes, you told him over the phone the previous day, in case he showed up to stretch in advance - which he did, kind of. He only remembered to stretch after seeing you, so he discarded his jacket in the tiny lockers by the turf and started those basic shoulder rolls he learned in middle school.

You came over after he passed a few sets, correcting his form, "Squeeze your shoulder blades together. Your chest should be slightly ahead of your abs."

Of course, he jumped, not having expected you, like, at all.

"Sorry," you apologized yet still inched closer. You held your hands a couple inches off his back, fingers stuttering back and forth from his rhomboid. "Can I touch you?" Jisung nodded, fighting the smile that breaks into the corners of his mouth. "You should feel it -" You closed the gap and touched your fingers to his spine, eventually flattening your hand between his shoulder blades, and he inhaled sharply. Your hands felt small, smaller than his at least, your fingers not even taking up the half space of his rhomboid (though, he couldn't see it). "- right here."

Jisung tensed, fixing his posture and lifting his chin higher.

"Sorry," you apologize again, immediately withdrawing your hand, and he turned around as equally fast. "Did that feel weird?"

"No," he answered loudly, then cleared his throat. "No, it was, um, helpful. I - I don't think I know exactly where to -" He covered half his face to hide the increasingly pinkish hue and the dimples in his cheeks. "- to feel it, so anything you do is ... appreciated." Jisung tried to avoid your gaze too, looking at the ground, but you are shorter than him, so you met his eye incidentally, also stepping into his personal bubble.

The whole first session went like that for the most part - you correcting his form; him giving you honest feedback; you stepping into his personal bubble, touching him; etc.

No wonder Jeno keeps coming back to this place, Jisung thought. If not just for how attentive and detailed with him you are, then for - and this was where Jisung started to feel bad - how sexy you look demonstrating every exercise. (He felt guilty, semi-pathetic, literally running home to masturbate in the shower for an hour).

Because every time you parted your knees, Jisung, too, nearly dropped to his.

He had to watch you, from a bird's eye view, standing while you illustrated simple hip raises on the ground, giving him an excuse to stare at your camel toe perfect range of motion in your ilolumbar ligaments. Even worse, when you and he did high planks across from each other, because he could see down your loose neckline, down your tight, compression bra, at the slightest peak of your cleavage.

And he couldn't stop staring, waiting for a flash of your tits, like a pervert, or for your leggings to roll down your stomach a little bit more, before you covered the waistband of your panties all over again (he would have sworn, on Sakura Yamauchi's grave, that you wore a thong, and that you wear a thong to every session).

Then, the kick off ended so soon, and you summarized all his strong points, noting the slight bulge of his bicep, asking him whether he would want to continue strengthening your core, as is your specialty. Jisung hadn't the heart (or hormones) to deny you. His main goal, he figured, - to bulk - could be done on the days he doesn't train with you, since he planned on joining Jaemin, Jeno, or Haechan for weight lifting the other times.

But you catch him.

Pretty easily, actually, on one of your off days.

"Hey, stranger," you greet him, a few months after that first session. Jisung looks up at you, from the ground, where he reracks 25-kg dumbbells next to an even taller storage rack. You hold a medicine ball, in both arms, so tightly to your stomach that he can see the way your cleavage spills over your sports bra, even under the oversized t-shirt.

Jisung giggles, just once, timidly, under his breath - half-winded from his bicep curls - and smiles at the ground. "We saw each other on Saturday."

"Well," you sing a little, throwing the 3-kg med ball between your hands. "Actually, I could've sworn I saw you on Tuesday, a mere two days ago," you tease him, and he looks up again, kneeling on just one knee now.

"Ah ... Really?"

"Yup!" you emphasize the last syllable, then turn to the racks, squinting at the empty top row high above your head. "I thought, 'Hmm, couldn't be my Jisungie', since you were counting concentration curls." Those are not part of the workout plans you make for him. "Mmph." You jump a little, throwing the ball, but it stays on the ledge and rolls back into your hands. Jisung stands up immediately, behind you, and racks the ball for you.

He hopes you don't hear his heart beating through his chest, or at least that you attribute it to his final workout. But you called him yours. And he needs to hear it again.

You tilt your head up, following his hands, until making eye contact with him upside down. He presses against your back a little tighter, to really settle the ball on the rack, and incidentally, he also feels the curve of your ass hit his wide thighs.

Jisung lowers his arms, slightly, shuffling forward. He hangs one hand on the ledge behind you, while the other finds the waistband of his Adidas sweatpants. For a second, as he tries to meet your gaze, Jisung dips down to your legs, hoping to glimpse another outline of your panties, but you just wear an innocent pair of biker shorts. The black fabric barely peeks out from under your oversized t-shirt, only showing off your legs and pubic bone. Jisung's short sleeve, also oversized (as is the trend) does little to hide his own hips, since he holds it, folded, over his abs. The sleeves, though, fall down his bicep without his workout, and hide the wrong bulge.

You turn around, in his strong arms, brushing your own arm between his defining pecs.

"Sorry," he apologizes, panting thickly through his pouty lips, suddenly worried that you could read his thoughts. "Was that ... Was that weird?" Jisung lifts his hand off the rack with the intent to brush away the messy black bangs in front of his eyes, but you grab his wrist and drag him even closer than he had initially been. He purses his lips and tilts his head to the side.

"Jisung - ah," you clear your throat, rubbing your collarbone with the hand that was just on his arm. Jisung shifts to the tips of his toes, to better hear you as you start whispering, "Do you - do you want a free session? Right now? With me?" You brush your face closer into his personal bubble, and your pupils get bigger.

Jisung tilts his head a little deeper, nearly kissing you on the cheek, and scans your face. This might be more awkward, might have made him self-conscious - the borderline public indecency PDA - if today were not a random Thursday at 10 AM. But it is. The mostly empty gym really doesn't have anyone to notice the two of you. And Jisung takes advantage of it.

He nods.

"Meet -" You inhale, squeezing his arm once, marveling at the veins. Deliberately, he flexes. And your entire body jolts taller, giving you the momentum to look him in the eye again. "Meet me in the racquetball room in five."

Jisung actually meets you in seven minutes, too busy splashing water on his face in the locker room.

Ironically, the racquetball room offers more privacy than the bathrooms all the way in the back of locker rooms. It might have something to do with how many people are able to use each room at any given time.

So, Jisung takes a deep breath and wipes his hands, palms to fingertips, on his athletic pants. Then, he opens the door.

He barely gets a second to walk through the entrance, when you shove him against the door, fitting your lips onto his mouth.

You only peck him once, practically jumping into his chest, but Jisung still gasps, inviting you to bite his bottom lip - which you do, causing him to yelp.

"Oh, my God," you nearly scream, climbing off him - not that you climbed him very high, or that you stuck on him tight enough to topple him over (but if you did, he would have caught you). You teeter on your toes, fingers stuttering back to your chest. "I'm so sorry, Jisung. Was that weird? I - I thought -"

Jisung cuts you off, this time. One hand slides over your cheek, his nails knotting in the roots of your hair, and the other grabs you by the waist, pressing his hips into yours. He kisses you once, like that, nearly snapping the both of you in half. A scant moan leaves his esophagus, as low as a groan, before he switches sides and picks you up. His palm scoops your entire ass, helping you into his arms.

You gasp. "Whoa, Park Jisung??"

Your ankles tie together behind his small waist, and the momentum of his scoop pushes him into the wall. You readjust a little higher, cradling his face once you get stead. Your hands feel soft on his freshly shaved jaw.

"You're so tall," you whisper, slotting your lips together.

"There," he says with some finality, some assurance. Jisung shifts you up even more, using the wall as support, and smiles, innocent in his eyes, naughty in the way his squeezes your ass. "Now you're taller." He kisses you again, trying to lick your lips clean. Your hand slips down to the front of his neck, as you suck and bite his lips. His bottom lip follows you, while you change angles, grinding your hips on his abs, driving him firmer against the wall. Jisung pulls off, briefly, his eyes still closed. "Fuck, baby."

Jisung kisses you even harder and slides both his hands under your ass, spreading your ass cheeks wide. His middle fingers brush your cunt, poking around the thin string, finally verifying that you do, in fact, wear a flimsy thong.

"Shit," he swears when you tug his hair unexpectedly. Your nails scratch his temporal lobe, fisting and re-fisting around his split ends.

His hands automatically dig into your thighs. And you yank his hair again, this time backwards, pulling off him. Jisung gasps without your mouth to suppress his moans, and his fingers slip lower into your inner thighs. You withdrew just far away enough to take off your shirt, and his jaw falls, heavy pants shaking his entire chest as he inspects your sports bra. A deep v-neck cuts straight between your tits and the tight material pushes them together and up, although slightly misaligned - half your nipple exposes under the black fabric. Jisung almost bites one, when you yank his hair a third time, making him look up at you, his eyes glassy around the rim.

"Sungie," you pant and lick your lips. God, he wants to kiss you again; he even parts his lips to ask, but you speak first, "There's something I want to do. Really bad." You cup his jaw, and he swallows thickly. "Can I suck you off?"

"Fuck," he swears again, kissing you harder. "Yes. Yes, baby, fuck, please suck me off," he begs, chanting an affirmation mixed with your name. You moan equally with him, and your legs tighten around his waist as a single one of his hands roams your back, snapping at your bra. His other palm gives your ass more support, slipping into your shorts, into your thong.

He kisses you a few more times, his lips pursing forward more and more as you pull away, slowing down his tongue into quick pecks. Jisung knocks his head against the wall and shakes his bangs out of his face. He scans your face, then realizes that he likes looking at you.

"Pretty."

"Hmm?"

"I said you're pret -"

Jisung doesn't get to finish his praise, because you push a thumb past his lips, holding down his tongue. Instantly, his cheeks hollow, but your thumb tugs backward a little, so he sucks even harder, to trap you there, amidst his whiny protest .You pull a little bit more, enough to reopen his mouth, and replace it two fingers. Satisfied again, he licks at your index finger, imagining how you would blow him with those small hands (how will you wrap them around his cock?). His dick, standing upright toward his abs, between your legs, jumps, and your eyes darken.

You jump off his lap, simultaneously pushing him against the wall.

"Oomf."

"Shh, Jisungie," you whisper. Your hands creep into the waistband of his trackpants, folding over the layer until the inseam reaches his thighs. "You're so loud."

"I can be louder," he whimpers. But still, he mouths, "Oh, my God," and bites his lip, hitting his head on the wall again. His hips work on a mind of their own, thrusting forward (only slightly), anticipating you to do more, especially after you asked, so nicely, to suck him off. "Baby, please." Finish what you started.

Your next few actions move like a virgin who only has experience from watching porn. Not that Jisung has any complaints, remembering how he was with his first partner. Except, you don't bumble around like an idiot, like he did. No, you spring his dick free and gasp. He looks down, mouth sluttily ajar, panting all over again as the air conditioning brushes his shaft. With your eyes wide, you slowly wrap your fingers just below his tip - the fingers that were in his mouth. They prevent you from dry rubbing his erection, not that he needs it, necessarily. His cock embarrassingly dribbles through the slit, clear liquid sliding down in beads. He has to grit his teeth to will himself not to cum, but you stand on your knees, barely tall enough to point his cock down your throat. You rest your palms on his thighs, keeping him still, and lean a bit higher to swallow his tip, just the tip.

Jisung's fingers hook under your jaw, making you look up at him.

And he nearly cums at the sight. You're so fucking sexy.

Your eyes dilate, looking at him through your pretty lashes and messy hair. And his dick throbs, again - which makes your mouth pulse around the tip. Mmm, you moan, lips tightening involuntarily. Jisung thrusts forward, faintly, bending at the knee as his dick, 85% hard, fits halfway in your mouth. You shift a little bit taller and take more of his cock, by yourself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jisung whines, hiding his pout lips behind one hand. "You're so good, baby." The hand that stayed on your jaw fists its way into your hair, supporting your temporal lobe enough for him to slide his cock all the way down your esophagus. "I don't even need to train your throat. You're already so good for me."

Then you pull off his cock, coughing and rubbing your throat. You hold his length at the base, but the momentum held and his cock slaps your cheek, leaving a puddle of precum and spit on your cheek. "You're so big, Jisungie," you whine, lips swollen and pouting.

But your thighs squeeze together, and he can just tell that you ride the thick inseam on your crotch. He bets, too, that your clit got caught in your thong, pressing in all the right areas. It might look like how your tits look right now - raised and spilling out of your tight sports bra. God, he wants to cum on them. He can't, this time at least, because it would make a huge mess, but next time, if you'll let him.

"Baby, finish what you started, please," he begs, flopping his dick back in your mouth, guiding your head down his shaft. "I'll repay you after, I promise, but I'm so fucking hard right now. I need to cum."

You take half his cock down your esophagus, sloppily drooling down the corners of your mouth. He can feel his tip hit your tongue, grating the fucking moist foliate.

Jisung's thrusts get clumsier and clumsier as he tries to memorize the way your body moves. Your wrist flicks his cock inverse to how it goes down your tongue. You grope and squeeze your own tit, slipping your hand into your bra, bringing out one of your stiff nipples for him to gawk at. Your thighs shake, ass driving your pussy forward like those hip thrusts you showed him on the first day. Jisung feels your nails graze the veins in his cock, and he looks down, panting open-mouthed, moans spilling.

He cups your face with all ten fingers enveloping your cheeks. Your own hands drop down to your body, back to your tits and pussy. Jisung jerks your face around, swirling your mouth around his cock to prepare you for the entire length. He groans, abs crunching, barely shoving his dick halfway, before you retake control.

"Gawk, gawk, gawk," you swallow, half gagging, half sobbing.

"Yeah, fuck, I'm almost there," he chooses to interpret.

You stand tall again, on your knees, and squeeze his cock between your tits, freeing them from your restrictive bra. Jisung slowly feeds his cock all he way, as you raise your tits, visibly pinching your nipples with your index and middle fingers. His tip, angry, leaking, and throbbing, knocks on your tongue, and you get the hint, bobbing your head. You look at him through your lashes again, eyes somehow wider, more innocent, before rolling them to the back of your head. You force a little bit of his cock out of your mouth, down your tongue like a slide, letting him take over.

Jisung's stomach drops, and he shoves his cock down your throat, brushing his pelvis against your nose.

"Hnng, fuck, fuck, fuck," he moans. His entire cock throbs with your esophagus as you choke on the width. Then he cums.

Jisung slowly pulls out while he cums, letting his thick, white semen pool in your mouth. You fold your tongue into a cup, as wide as you can, showing off how good you take him, still jerking off his cock between your tits. You swallow all the cum you can, before it starts streaming down your cheeks, like your tears.

"Cute," he mumbles, pushing his cock in your mouth, only halfway until he stops cumming. Then, he helps you stand up.

You swallow again, panting after an audible, large gulp, and wipe your bottom lip clean with your wrist. "I know -" You heave, wrapping your arms around his neck, falling against the wall with him. "I know guys don't like to make out or anyth -"

Jisung cuts you off again, pressing his lips chastely against yours. He brushes his nose across your cheek, smelling the prominent salt and sweat on your skin before parting your lips with his tongue and lifting you back into his arms. "I don't care," he whispers. "I'll cum inside you and eat you out, too."

You grab his jaw and scan his face. "Really?" you ask, almost doubting him.

So, he spins you around, pinning you to the wall. You, again, tighten your legs behind his back, steadying on his shoulder.

"Yeah, baby, I'm gonna put all these muscles to use."

#well … sorry this took so long but guess who had time to write #jisung smut #park jisung smut #nct jisung smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct jisung x reader #park jisung x reader #nct smut drabble #Mia.txt

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beacarrot · 2 months ago

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Yes, I think I'm doing it again. One day without you turned into a week, and soon it will become a month, but I refuse to let it stretch to a year, ten years… This text is another open letter to share my experience, especially the grief of losing Liam Payne.

I've been a One Direction fan since I was 14. I discovered the band because of Liam, who, back in his “fetus era,” looked like an Australian actor I had a crush on. One day, while browsing the internet, I came across the name “One Direction.” Honestly, I didn’t feel anything phenomenal in that moment; I had no idea how much that name would change my life and my youth as a whole. I didn’t imagine the hours of research, the nearly one hundred songs memorized, the posters, the fan theories I still hope are true, the Pinterest boards full of images, the photo edits of myself with the boys just to get a taste of what it might be like to be near those five special guys. Fanfiction, imagines… the list goes on.

In the beginning, I even mocked their songs, calling them cliché. A few months later, I knew all the lyrics AND the dance from “Best Song Ever" video clip. Life has a way of transforming our paths when we least expect it, when we’re lost enough for any path to seem fine. But life is generous and shows us the "right direction."

The truth is, it was October 16, 2024. I was coming home from school, crying, and, strangely enough, I had no idea that Liam had passed. I’d been introspective in recent days, reflecting on my last months at school and my amazing friends in class. I’d been listening to One Direction more than usual, and that very day I’d listened to “Stand Up”! I got home and was getting ready to go out again; it was almost 7 p.m.

I remember precisely: my mom looked at me with that expression she used to soften bad news, but it didn’t hide her own anxiety. She said, “I want you to hear this from me, but it’s not someone in the family.” I widened my eyes, jeans halfway on. I felt calm; if it wasn’t family, it wouldn’t hurt that much. But then she said it was something about the band and that one of them had fallen from a hotel balcony and was in bad shape.

My heart skipped one, two, maybe five beats. I don’t remember my tone of voice, but I know it was loud, trying to make my mom remember who it was. When she said “Liam,” I still thought, “Well, he just got hurt, but he’s alive, right?”

“Is he okay?” I asked, near panic. Truly, I wasn’t considering the possibility that he could have passed. But my mom’s words echoed: “No… unfortunately, he’s living with God know.”

My world stopped. I wasn’t even fully dressed, and I started shouting Liam’s name over and over, as if trying to confirm the reality, as if pleading for an answer from the heavens. I looked at the photo beside my bed, which I’ll include in this post, and messaged my friends who were also fans. I cried uncontrollably. I smoked so much in those days that I literally got sick, with a sore throat. Only my mom, my friends from youth group, and school saw my true state. Edu, thank you for putting up with my grotesque sobs on your shoulder. I adore you, friend!

The first night was a nightmare, a heavy and negative energy settled in, but I was clinging to the hope that with sunrise, something might change. But it didn’t. The sun rose, and I relived everything in my head, going over the story, just wishing it was truly a nightmare. I think no one has the right to talk about someone else’s pain. Grief is an individual experience, full of complicated nuances.

I’ve been alternating between suffering, crying to the point of dehydration, listening to the songs while every line hurts. There’s the denial phase, when it feels like it didn’t happen; that Liam is out there somewhere, and we’re still in 2012. Then, the reality drops like a piano falling. And there’s anger: “Is this real? He was so young!” And finally, moments of acceptance, when I smile at the memories and look at the photos, though I’m not completely there yet. Grief isn’t a straight line; you repeat and get lost in these stages, and no one should blame themselves for that.

People have lost the capacity for empathy and humanity. It doesn’t matter if Liam didn’t know me; I knew him. Not personally, of course—he had layers, and that’s one reason we couldn’t imagine how he was self-destructing. But he was a singer with an amazing stage presence, always sweet and attentive with the fans, a real warrior in his personal life, and he certainly made his share of mistakes. He lost his way on the crazy road of life, fame, money, media, relationships, addiction; it drained the hope from that 16-year-old boy who didn’t give up on "The X Factor". Liam is a legend.

There are days I can laugh, listening to the songs and remembering their silly dances, like when I watched “This Is Us” two days after his death. I thought I’d cry, but those boys never make me cry; they only make me smile. What makes me cry are the circumstances surrounding 1D. On other nights, I cry knowing there was nothing I could do. The closest I ever got to him was in a dream once, where the boys were having a party at my house. Liam was sitting in the corner of my room, the same spot where I was when I found out he’d passed. I walked over, asked him about Louis and Zayn, and hugged him. It was a sweet, protective hug. That’s my comfort: imagining his face painted in the beautiful blue sky, knowing he was lost and needed rest. I’ll continue with my contradictory life, and when things get hard and tough here on Earth, I’ll smile because he'll be far away and safe, no longer needing to deal with it all.

I’m still hesitant about watching his funeral online. Since finding out, I’ve stepped back from social media. It cleanses my soul to know I didn’t contribute to the hate, negative energy, dirty jokes, or nasty comments thrown his way, in real life or online. I learned from Liam; I let myself be touched by his essence, loving him completely, and I learned to see the world through the lens of songs and art. Words won’t be enough, Liam. This is not a defective goodbye. I still need you, and even if I can’t see you with my eyes, you’ll live forever.

I can't post something that is not just about it, but I will just continue posting some things because they were already ready before I knew about his death.

Gratitude and strength to all!

I don't like to put black pictures blank in these moments because I don't think it's right black and white because Liam brought and still bring so much color to us.

We love you Liam, our eternal red.❤️

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earthstellar · 2 years ago

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crying over Rescue Bots, yes it’s the ghost ship episode, it’s fine

so I’m watching Rescue Bots again because I don’t feel good today lmao

and the episode where they’re on the ghost ship and TEN WHOLE ASS YEARS GO BY WHILE THEY ARE STUCK ON THE SHIP came up in the playlist

and even though it’s resolved in the end, it’s like, holy shit

okay so for those who haven’t seen it:

halfway through the episode Chief Burns shows up and sees his kids for the first time in TEN YEARS because tl;dr the kids got on the ghost ship to investigate but it vanished back into the fog and it time travelled them at accelerated speed but beyond the ship, time passes normally, so it’s been 10 YEARS from their dad’s point of view since they left, even though for them it has only been one hour

and him and the Doc and Frankie are visibly older when they land on the ship’s deck

so naturally Chief’s talking to his kids and probably trying not to fucking have a break down and he’s like okay everyone, let’s go

and Cody’s like “no we think we figured it out, let us stay and try”

and the Chief has less than one minute to make this call: do I bring my entire family home after ten years, or do I let them disappear maybe for another ten years based on a hunch they have

and he lets them stay on the ghost ship because he trusts his kids that much

ten years lost, maybe ten years more, and how old is he now? how old will he be in another ten years, if they happen to be wrong? what happens to the town if he ages out of rescue work (and so would Doc), which would leave only Frankie to protect the island?

even the rescue bots themselves openly state that they feel like they’ve abandoned their posts because of their extended absence, even though it’s not their fault (I don’t remember who specifically said this but it was one of them and it makes it sadder lmao)

but he lets them go after finally seeing them again for five minutes in total, after they have been missing in real time for ten years on this ghost ship

and IDK the amount of trust Chief has in his kids and his ability to immediately trust them in this way despite what I am sure is an incredible amount of grief and stress over what has been ten fucking years for him is actually so intense

like this is a show for babbies, so of course they can’t focus on how emotionally fucked this situation is for literally everyone, it would be Too Much for Babbies which is understandable

but thinking about it for ten seconds is like oh shit!! oh shit, feelings

I love this episode because the feels are real, both for the Captain of the ship (which is the whole setup, tl;dr stuck in time loop never got to marry girlfriend, it’s sad already) and for Chief Burns because holy shit his fucking entire family has been gone for ten years and he still trusts them enough to let them stay on board and try to solve shit even though he absolutely has to be emotionally trashed in that moment

10/10 Rescue Bots is a great show, I don’t know why I don’t post about it more tbh the emotional whiplash is so intense lmao

there’s also that time Optimus turned into a t-rex and freaked out but then in TFP concurrently this was somehow fine and it never came up again in canon or seemingly anywhere else, holy shit I forgot all about that until today LMAO

I love the Aligned Continuity, all of this shit is so good, I’m crying but also laughing

mostly crying right now though because Chief Burns lost all his kids for TEN YEARS and he immediately let them go again because he loves them and trusts them THAT MUCH

#rescue bots #maccadam #maccadams #chief burns #transformers rescue bots

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 2 years ago

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Bruce Wayne x Reader

Title: “Secrets will be told” SERIES PART 3

Part 1

Part 2

-TWO YEARS AFTER THE EVENTS OF PART 2-

Pairing(s): Bruce Wayne (from the show Gotham) and Female reader. BOTH BRUCE AND READER WILL BE 26-28 in this part.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, other than that, none

Summary of series: Bruce Wayne was captivated when he met Y/N, and the feeling was mutual. Dating turned into being engaged and engaged to married. They knew each other’s secrets and told each other everything; they confided in one another. But once Y/N follows Bruce back to Gotham, he begins to change... He becomes secretive, is he having an affair? Y/N needs to find out the truth.

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

The Day after the Wedding

We chose to go to Bora Bora for our honeymoon. Bruce had rented an overwater Bungalow. I haven’t seen him this calm in almost two years; not since he proposed. He has not been calm since Jeremiah Valeska escaped Arkham. Jeremiah has been running loose for two years, and there has not been an encounter with him yet.

But being here, being surrounded by a big body of water and by a literal jungle, he has been at peace. I was lying out enjoying the sunlight, and Bruce was across from me doing push-ups. For the last two years, he has bulked up a lot; he worked out every single day, sometimes twice a day.

I brought down my sunglasses, and I watched the newly formed muscles tighten with every movement. But what caught my attention, was the scars along his spine. I stood up and walked over to where he was, and my fingers gently pressed against the faded red and white colored marks. “Bruce, what happened? When did this happen?” I asked, and he sat up.

“I don’t know years ago, maybe?”

“No, some these are recent. Why do you have scars, Bruce?” I questioned again, and his hand went to my cheek. “Baby, when I do jiu jitsu, and other things like combat training, I tell the guys to not go easy on me. That’s all they’re from.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and helped me up off of the ground. “Do you want to join me for a swim, Mrs. Wayne?” he asked, and I smiled. My heart fluttered at his words, Mrs. Wayne. I was now Mrs. Wayne. He turned to look at me, “What? Oh-- do you like it when I call you Mrs. Wayne?”

Another smile broke across my lips. Bruce pulled me by my hips, and he brought a gentle, yet hungry kiss to my lips. He kissed down to my jaw, and then worked his way to my neck, “You so gorgeous, Mrs. Wayne.”

It wasn’t too long until we were back in the bed again, and I never thought about his scars again. Two full months of honeymoon bliss; being married to Bruce has its perks. He was able to stay away on a vacation for as long as he liked.

---------

-TWO MONTHS AFTER WEDDING AND HONEYMOON-

When we got back home, Bruce became tense all over again. I wasn’t even sure how to begin to help him at this point. He started to become distant and more quiet than usual. Hours were spent at the gym in the mornings and we would pass each other by as I was going out the door for work.

After our honeymoon, things changed-- he began coming home late at night, and then he would disappear in the middle of the night. The first few weeks, I did not really pay any mind to him leaving. But after a month of him leaving our bed at midnight, I decided to follow him.

I waited until he was out of bed for five minutes, and I grabbed my robe and quietly made my way down the stairs. He was not in his study, nor was he anywhere else in the house. All of his cars were parked in the garage, and when I came back inside, I bumped into Alfred.

“Oh, Mrs. Wayne, you are up late.” Alfred said, and my hand went to his shoulder. “Please, call me, Y/N, Alfred. I was looking for Bruce. Do you know where he went?” I asked, and he hesitated.

“Sometimes Bruce has nightmares. Caused by the death of his parents; it still troubles him deeply. Sometimes he will go out for a run to tire himself out.” Alfred rambled, and I sighed.

I whispered a quiet: “Thank you” and made my way to the kitchen. Pouring myself a glass of wine, I waited for Bruce. I was sitting at the kitchen island, and I looked down at my wedding band and engagement ring. Shaking my head, I picked up my cellphone and tried calling Bruce. Each call went to voicemail, and each time he didn’t answer, my heart would drop. But an all too familiar jingle was playing across the room. With the phone to my ear, I walked over to the stove and Bruce’s cellphone was sitting next to it. He left his phone. Why? I hit the “end call” button and slammed it on to the counter. I brought my glass of wine to my lips and took a long drink.

The wine must have been making me emotional, because my thoughts began to wander. Bruce leaving every night at the same time, and not coming back until four or five in the morning. That led to one explanation: Bruce was having an affair. Two months into our marriage, and he wasn’t happy? It didn’t make sense. Was I doing something wrong?

Before I could finish that thought, Bruce crept through the hallway across from the kitchen. I wiped the tears from cheeks, and quietly went into the living room. I did not have the energy to deal with this tonight; I had to find out more before I accuse him of something he may or may not be doing. But I also could not face him tonight, and I grabbed a blanket and laid down on the couch.

When I woke up the next morning, my head was throbbing, and I was back in our master bedroom. Bruce was buttoning up his shirt, and when caught glimpse of me in the mirror, he smiled. “Good morning, babe. I put some Tylenol and a glass of water on the nightstand.” Bruce said as he nodded towards the nightstand.

I gave him a small smile and took the pill along with the water. A small bruise adorned Bruce’s jaw, and I cocked my head to the side, trying to get a better glimpse of the purple and blue bruise.

I threw the covers back and my hand went to his jaw, “Did they have to hit you in the face?” I questioned and his eyebrows drew together. “What- what do you mean?” he asked.

“Your jiu jitsu group... That’s who hit you, right?” I questioned and he sighed. “Oh. Yes. Practice got a little rough; that is all.”

I folded my arms up to my chest, “Was that after you left at midnight? I thought you went on a run. At least that is what Alfred suggested you were doing.” Bruce turned to me as he tightened his tie.

“I went on a run. Then after that I went to the gym. I couldn’t sleep.” he said, and before he could walk away, I shook my head. “Your cars were in the garage. Surely you didn’t run all the way into the city.”

“I called a cab. And I came home in a cab.” Bruce grabbed his suit jacket, and he walked out of bedroom. Tears brimmed my eyes, he was lying. There was no cab. He never calls cabs. His cellphone was on the counter.

Bruce lied to me and that was enough evidence all in itself. He got the bruise from somewhere else, and I was going to find out. I picked up our bedside telephone and dialed the number to the gym Bruce frequented.

“Hello, Donnie’s gym, how can I help you?”

“This is Mrs. Wayne. I am calling in regard over my husband Bruce Wayne’s account. I’m paying bills this month and was wondering what I owe you for this month, Donnie?” I asked.

“Ah Y/N! It’s good to hear from ya. Now, Bruce hasn’t been to the gym since before you guys tied the knot. He hasn’t been in uh--- maybe two years? I do appreciate his donations though. Keeps the place running.” Donnie said, and my grip tightened on the phone.

“Oh. I see. Well, how much does he donate? I can fill out a quick check and mail it to you.” I say, and Donnie sighed.

“Usually $2,000.” I scribbled down the amount on a sticky note, “Well, thank you Donnie. Bye-bye now.” I say before hanging up the phone. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the diamond ring on my finger.

I wiped the tears away before they could fall. I was going to Wayne Enterprises, and this was getting sorted out now.

-----

When I walked into the building, I was greeted by multiple people. “Mrs. Wayne, would you like me to call up to Mr. Wayne and inform him that you are here?”

I shook my head, “No, I am here to surprise him.” I say before the elevator door closed behind me with a ding. The elevator door stopped at the top floor, and I walked out of the elevator. Bruce’s main secretary Sidney looked up from her computer screen: “Oh! Hi, Y/N! How are you?”

“I am great, thank you. Is Bruce in a meeting?” I asked, and she shook her head. “No, a matter of fact, he just went back into his office.” I thanked her and walked over to Bruce’s office door. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, and a woman was standing next to Bruce looking out the big glass window.

They both turned and looked at me; Bruce’s eyes widened, and the woman’s eyes trailed over to look at Bruce, and then her attention went back to me.

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

Hey guys! Sorry I didn’t post this sooner; I got super busy with school and studying. I know these chapters are fast paced, and I apologize for that. But I hope you enjoyed, Comment if you want to be added/removed from taglist.

TAGLIST: @rl800 @auspicious-lilana @theclassicvinyldragon

#dc comics #dc heroes #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #gotham #the batman imagine #batman x reader #alfred pennyworth

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simpingandshitposting · 1 year ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Two ppl actually tagged me in this so thank you @malewifetouya and @happyely 🖤🖤🖤

Sadly some of my most favorite projects are ones that are still sitting in my drafts unfinished 😭 but out of all the ones I've posted these are the ones I'm most proud of <3

"Come Home" — Deku:

I don't even know if this would be considered a fic?? Cuz honestly this was such a short little thing that I wrote in under like 15 minutes 😭 probably the shortest amount of time it's taken me to ever write literally anything. But it was after I watched S6 E136 and literally that night I had a dream where this whole scene was played out in my head. And it just felt so dramatic in the right ways and just raw emotion that I had to write it down. And it's STILL my most liked post on this entire blog😭 but honestly understandable bc sometimes I go back and read it and I'm just like "damn wait I wrote that????" lmfaoo

"Only for you, Toshi" — Shinsou:

Completely opposite from the last one, this is actually the longest thing I've ever written. (that's posted anyway, there's a few longer still in my drafts) I just feel like Shinsou doesn't get enough love but he definitely deserves it😭❤️ all my friends that read it said they really enjoyed it and I'm just really happy with how it came out after working on it for a couple weeks, and that not touching it for a few months and then coming back to it only to finish it in like 2 days lmao

"Attention" — Dabi:

Now this wouldn't be a post about my fics if I didn't include something for my absolute favorite character in the entire show🖤 this fic was very self indulgent bc I'm such a brat🤭 and I'm convinced that Dabi is the king of brat taming. Fun fact, the outfit I described is something I literally own in my closet 😂

"Secrets" — BakuDeku x reader [UNFINISHED]:

This is a multi-part series I'm co-writing with my bsf @haru-x-ren on a joint account we made. (@bunny-x-haru if you'd like to follow) it's currently still a work in progress with only a few parts released, but it is a continuation of a 2 part fic I wrote when I first started called "You're the Only Thing That Makes Sense" — Bakugo So I do recommend reading this one first before Secrets for context and background info. I feel like you can really see my growth in writing from then to now, cuz that was like literally the second thing I ever posted lol. And Haru was literally my biggest fan bc he's the one that got me into writing fanfic<3 so after he read it, he had this absolutely BRILLIANT idea (spoiler) to take the scene I wrote where bakugo and deku were caught fighting after school hours (similar to that scene from season....2? When Bakugo learned about OFA) and turn it into a BakuDeku love triangle and I was honestly obsessed with the idea

And lastly

"For Your Eyes Only" — Dabi:

Another one for my fav<3 this one was for his birthday and is very nasty🤭 also with a little bit of fluff at the end bc I am indeed a hopeless romantic with no romance🥲 also, the cover photo is most definitely the reaction I was imagining when he walks into the room lmao

Side Note:

I know it's been a while since I've posted any writing and I am so sorry 😭 I guess I've just been in a little bit of a funk when it comes to my creativity lately. I mean I've got plenty, and I do mean PLENTY of ideas written down, but Im having a hard time executing them and turning them into something I can post. But I promise I'll get back to posting as soon as I can and I'm really sorry to everyone who has been waiting for stuff😭 I appreciate your patience❤️

Here's 5 other writers I recommend<3

@cathwritestragediesnotsins @aquadenks @kemakoshume @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic + any other writers who'd like to make ur own posts<3

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angelforstyles · 4 months ago

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Lonely (together) Chapter Four

Lillian’s POV

Five days have passed and I haven’t seen Harry. He’s been busy the whole time.

I’ve cleaned my apartment a few times, rearranged my library, organized my paintings and notebooks, washed my paintbrushes, sharpened my pencils.

I’ve done two new paintings, read a book, and started discovering new smoothies. I’ve only gone out to the grocery store once.

I even organized my closet. I’ve done everything and I still feel like I’m missing something.

Now I’m literally on the living room floor looking at the stars.

I pull out an old device I brought with me when I was taken from my home when I was 16.

It’s one of the few things I’ve taken with me.

If I turn off the lights, it reflects the stars and space onto the ceiling and walls. I’ve been like that for a couple hours.

The girls are busy so I haven’t asked anyone to hang out with me. And I miss Harry.

In the past few days I have thought about all the moments we have had together.

I have written down all the positives and negatives of the situations that happened between us, his personality and how he treats me.

There was not one negative thing. (Except on my part there was)

My phone rang with a notification.

Harry: Hello princess. How are you?

Me: Fine Harry, how are you?

Harry: Good, I wanted to check up on you.

Me: Don't worry about you :)

Harry: Sorry I haven't seen you the past few days, I was busy, my mom and sister came to town without telling me. Things are a bit chaotic around here.

Me: I'm happy for you! Enjoy with them

Harry: Thanks. How do you handle your break?.

Me: Ahhh I don't know where I am if I'm being honest

Me: I did everything. I painted two paintings I feel like I'm going crazy but enjoy it, don’t know how

Harry: Aw princess. Relax, don't be too busy and not taking care of yourself, and I'm really happy that you're spending your time enjoying your hobbies.

Me: Don’t worry, thank you Harry

Harry: I really wish I could come over but my mom insists I stay with them after work and I quote: ‘We only see you once a year, we have the right to see you, and it's clear you have nowhere else to go.’

Harry: Plus she's the one forcing me to stay home.

Me: I don't know if I should be sad or happy for you, but I laughed

Harry: Naughty princess.

Me: Sorry🥺

Harry: None of that. Anyway I’m gonna try to stop by tomorrow.

Me: Okay byyye <3

Harry: ❤️

I can't wait for tomorrow.

——

It's 4pm. I'm cooking some pasta, I decided to start a new book series so I went and bought it today.

A soft knock on the door made me scared then I remember Harry knows the code.

I tried to fix my hair while looking at the mirror next to the door. I was wearing a pink t-shirt and gray pants.

I opened the door and Harry was standing with a bag in his hand. "Hello princess" He opened his arms and I threw myself at him. "Hey you did it" my voice is muffled on his neck.

Then I pulled away and looked at his face "Your work ends in an hour! Why did you go out early?" I said with my hands still on his shoulders and his on lower back.

"I wanted to see you" he said softly and smiled.

"Do you want to eat?"

"It smells delicious here but mom wants us to go out to a place I don't even know what" I laughed and hugged him again.

"I brought you something" he whispered in my ear.

"What?" "Do you want to know?" He said as he lifted the bag up.

"Harry" I said sadly and looked at him.

"Stop looking at me like that or I will fucking get on my knees."

He said and my heart started beating fast and everything disappeared from my mind except his sentence.

I looked at him with wide eyes. He cleared his throat "Do you want to open it now?" He said nervously. "Um okay" I took the bag from him.

I opened it gently and it was a red box. I turned to him and said "Why did you bring me a gift?"

He looked at me softly "When I saw it I remembered you so I brought it for you." I felt butterflies flying in my stomach.

I opened the box and there was a beautiful red bag the size of the one I have that I always wear. But more beautiful. "Harry" I said and felt tears gathering and my throat tightening. I gently put it on the table and hugged him.

"Thank you didn't have to buy me anything" I said and the tears fell "Hey no need to cry, it's just a bag princess”. He said stroking my hair.

“Oh my God, I forgot the food on the stove.” I ran and put out the boiling pasta and went back to him. “Nothing burned,” I said, laughing and wiping my tears.

As we sat on the couch, his phone rang. “Mom uhgh” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

Then he answered. “Yes mom.. I know, I’m close.. No.. okay.. No I said okay mom.” His brows furrowed and he let out a sigh of annoyance. He hung up.

He looked at me, smiled and kissed my cheek, "I have to go, sorry." I hugged him and murmured, "It's okay." He pulled away and looked at me, about to say something before he got up and left.

For two days we texted late at night, in the afternoon, and when he finished work. It was very innocent conversation.

Today his mother and sister are going back to England. I didn't mean to get excited, but I was. I missed spending time with him.

The girls were going out today but I told them I was busy. Harry and I were going to go to the library.

I was getting ready, I put on a little white dress and comfortable white boots.

I put on my make up and now I was standing by the window waiting for Harry to come. I saw his car stop and I jumped and then pulled myself together.

A minute later there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and it was Harry in a half-open shirt. His hair was shiny and he looked like he had just taken a shower.

“Harry" I hugged him and he lifted me off the ground and spun us around. "Harry" I laughed "My princess" he said with a laugh. "Put me down, my dress will wrinkle"

He put me down and we recovered from laughing then looked at each other. “Are you ready?” he said with a smile “Yes sooo ready !!”

He took my hand and we walked out to the car, I didn't feel for a second that our situation was as wired as my friends say, I pushed the thought aside and enjoyed the moment. He opened the car door for me and I got in.

The drive to the library was quiet with little conversation. We were going to one of the biggest libraries. I was so excited.

He parked the car and we got out. There were people everywhere. I was starting to feel nervous so I moved closer to Harry until my hand was brushing his. "Are you okay?" I nodded.

He put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. I looked at him and he smiled so I felt comfortable putting my arm around his waist and he didn't say anything.

We walked around the library and I looked at the books and took pictures of several to buy later.

When we got out Harry said, “There’s a museum close to the library do you want to go?” My heart skipped a beat because I always wanted to go and never had the time or energy.

“If you want to.” Harry didn’t reply and we walked to the museum. It was indescribable, everything was so beautiful, I wanted to stay longer but Harry said it was nine and we should get out.

We got in the car and Harry said, “Dinner?” “If you’re hungry.”

“Are you hungry princess?” “Not much.” We stopped at a red light. “What do you want to eat?” Harry asked in a low voice. “Anything?” “Indian food?” I don’t like Indian food.

“If you want” “Italian?” “Anything is fine.” Harry took a deep breath and stood to the side.

“What do you want?” My cheeks burned. “It’s no big deal Harry, anything will be fine.” Harry went to the restaurant where we had eaten the first time.

We sat next to each other and Harry ordered almost everything in the menu after he asked me and I said pasta. We finished dinner and went back to my apartment.

Harry came out and we stood at the building door. I thought he wanted to come in but he stopped and took my hands.

“Did you have fun today?” he whispered, his face close to mine. “Uhm” I looking at our hands.

“Did you know that I like spending time with you princess?” My cheeks burned.

“Can I ask you something?” He said softly, I looked into his eyes my heart pounding and my hands starting to shake, but he held them tightly to stop them from shaking.

I looked up and for a moment I thought I might faint from the way he was looking at me. His eyes were shining, clearly nervous.

“Yes” I whispered and looked down. “Look at me” I looked up after a few seconds. “May I take you on a date?”

My ears started ringing, I started feeling dizzy, my heart was beating all over the place, and my legs couldn't hold me up.

Harry’s POV

Two days ago, I thought she would refuse to go on a date with me. But her eyes sparkled, her pupils got bigger and her hands were shaking, but she just smiled and nodded.

I couldn't believe it so I texted her that night to make sure she still wanna go out with me. So here I am going to buy flowers for her and pick her up.

I got the pink flowers. I knocked on her apartment door. Seconds later she opened the door wearing a short, soft pink dress.

I smiled and hugged her, "You look beautiful" I kissed her cheek. "Look at the coincidence, I brought you pink flowers" She laughed and took them then kissed my cheek. "Thank you Harry" She went to put them in the water and came back and we left.

We went to a fancy restaurant, and took the elevator to the thirtieth floor? I don't really know, she's so beautiful and took all my attention.

We sat at a table but she didn't like her chair position and wanted to sit next to me so I moved my chair closer to her. "So you never drink?" I asked curiously.

"No, I guess I'm afraid of losing attention to what's going on around me" she said playing with her hair.

The food was served and we sat talking about what she did and where I went with my mom and sister and my fights with my sister. I didn't go into much detail about my relationship with them.

We finished dinner and I dropped her off at her apartment.

A few days later we had our second date, it was at her apartment. We played puzzles and ordered dinner.

We sat in silence for a moment after dinner. “Harry,” she said quietly and nervously.

“Yeah my princess?” “I want to tell you something,” she mumbled, looking at her hands.

“You can tell me anything.” She looked at me for a moment then looked away. “I’ve never kissed anyone before” she whispered, hugging her legs. What?

“Don’t be mad at me, please,” she whispered, covering her eyes. “I wanted to tell you before but I couldn’t” she said with a trembling voice.

“Hey, look at me,” I pulled her hands away from her eyes, her face red and her eyes watery.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before? Like never? Not even a kiss without a kissing?” She shook her head no. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

I looked at her lips for a moment then into her eyes, “Sorry but does that mean you didn’t do the other stuff??” She shook her head and put her hands over her eyes. I pulled her hands away again.

“You’ve never had sex?”

“Harryyyy.” She closed her eyes.

“You’re the only guy I’ve ever talked to,” she said with a trembling voice. I hugged her when she almost cry and then we moved on.

I convinced her to come over to my place for our next date. She agreed so here I am today nervous as hell.

I made lasagna since she loves all kinds of pasta. With Caesar salad and champagne if she wanted to drink.

I went to take a shower and put on a black shirt and pants. I texted her to let me know when she was ready and I sent her my driver Cal.

Lillian’s POV

Call me crazy but I feel like he's going to kiss me today. I haven't given him a chance to touch me on the last two dates. But I think it's time.

I put on a red silk dress, black heels and the bag Harry gave me. I baked a vanilla cake, and put cream and strawberries to take with me. Harry said he'd send me a car so I went out.

A very big man (not kidding) opened the door for me. I thanked him. The whole way I tried to remember the way to Harry's house, it was close but because I’m nervous it felt like it was forever.

We stopped at a gate, the man opened the door for me and I thanked him again.

He talked for the first time "door code 1294" I went to the door next to the gate and wrote down the numbers and went in.

There was little big house and big garden in front of me. I couldn't see it well in the dark but it was very big and full of trees.

I walked to the front door. My stomach started to hurt from the tension. I rang the bell and hoped the pain would go away.

It was just Harry, the place had just changed. There was no need to panic.

Harry opened the door and looked at me with a smile. "Hello princess." He took the box from me and hugged me, then took my hand and we entered.

Directly in front of me on the right was a staircase and on the left was a large living room with a large glass door from ceiling to floor in the middle of the wall. At the beginning of the living room there was a piano and shelves.

Then in the middle was the sofas. The walls were light gray and the couch dark gray, the floor was light. "Do you like it?" Harry asked as I looked around.

I didn’t have time to answer him when a cat came towards us meowing. "You have a cat???" I asked in shock as I got down to pet her.

"Her name is Grey."

"Hi Grey" She closed her eyes as she let me pet her.

"She seems to like you, she's very moody, doesn't like strangers."

“She’s cute Harry,” I said grumbling. “Why didn’t you tell me about her before?” I looked at him and he held out his hand for me to stand up. “I don’t know why it didn’t crossed my mind.”

“Your house so gorgeous .” When we walked in, the kitchen was to the right, open to the living room, and there was a dining table. “Thank you, my princess. Sit down, I will bring the food.”

The table was set with gray plates, spoons, and a candle. I sat on the edge of the table with my back to the kitchen. I didn't think he was that romantic.

I smiled when I saw him coming. "Do you need some help?"

"Just have a seat, princess." I would never get used to the name.

Harry put the salad and lasagna, "Would you like some champagne?" "No thanks." Harry poured himself some champagne and brought me water.

We sat down to eat then I said, "This is so delicious, thank you." I reached for a napkin but hit Harry's glass and spilled all over him. "Oh my god, I'm sorry." I grabbed the napkin to clean it up.

"It's okay, princess." I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "Sorry, Harry." He took my hand and sat me down. "Hey, I'm home, I can easily change, it's okay, princess."

He kissed my head and said, "I'll change and come back."

I wanted to cry when I saw his empty glass. I got up and got the champagne and poured him another one. Harry came back in a grey t-shirt and black sweatpants.

“You didn’t have to refill my glass” he said, smiling at me.

We finished and I got up to put the dishes in the dishwasher with him, but he stopped me and sent me to sit down.

I sat on the couch and Grey jumped into my lap and I played with her. Harry came and sat next to me. “I’ve always wanted a cat, but I never had the time, and I didn’t want to leave the cat alone all the time” I said, then kissed Grey’s head.

I looked at him and slowly our smiles fade. I feel so nervous and excited, i bit my lip and looked down to avoid his stares. Grey jumped around again at me so I kissed her and pet her.

“Princess” Harry whispered and my cheeks burned. I looked up and his face so close, he holds Grey and put her down.

“Harry..” I mumbled. His hand touching mine, i wanna kiss him and i am so scared.

He slowly brings his lips closer to mine and I couldn’t move back, i want him to kiss me.

He brush his lips down on my jaw and i let pathetic breath.

“If you wanna stop you can tell me Princess”

“please” i don’t know what I’m begging for or why. He gives me a soft kiss, i still didn’t make a move not even opening my mouth.

He sucked my lower lip a little and I felt so dizzy, i feel his breath on my face, and wet sucking voice.

He gently pushed me to lie on the couch, my dress exposing my thighs so I kept on of my hands on his, while my other hand on my dress, his other hand on my jaw, sucking my lips slowly.

His nose on my cheek, i feel mine on his, and i feel the recently shaved face, and my stomach burning from the strange and completely new feeling.

My lips haven't moved yet I don't know what to do, it took me a few seconds to mimic what he was doing.

I kiss his upper lip then suck it gently, he stopped kissing me completely and made me do it for a few seconds until he slowly kissed me back.

I was holding my breath but now I'm breathing slowly. My legs started to hurt from the position, but I didn't move.

My hands moved to his shoulders then his neck, I was so nervous to touch him but when I felt his hand moving mine and put it on his cheek to his chest then back his cheek again, I brought his face closer to me as if he could be closer, until I felt my lips hurting me.

I pushed him a little and when I realized that my dress was very high and my panties were showing I quickly put my hands down on my dress.

His hands were behind my back they he carried me to sit on his lap. I looked at him as he smiled and then I realized what had happened.

I put my head on his shoulder and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Harry’s POV

I set her on my stomach because my cock was hard as fuck and I didn’t want to scare her, she put her head on my shoulder for a moment.

I looked down at her thighs, her dress was a bit up. She pulled her head back and looked at me, her face was so red, “hi” I said softly, “you did good princess” I kissed her cheek then her forehead, she hit my lips with hers and start kissing me again, i smiled then i kissed her harder, she whine softly and i almost cum i pull her back, she was out of breath, but tried to kiss me again.

“so greedy baby, you need to breathe”, her expression got sad.

“None of that princess” i kissed her again, our teeth clashed a little. I felt something wet on me, for a moment I thought i cum, but no it was on my stomach, I smiled at the thought of the source of the wetness.

I think she's too busy to realize she's dripping.

I was about to cum and I didn’t even touch my cock.

I pull back, “princess i need the bathroom” She got off my lap, I looked down at the black spot on my gray shirt, then looked at her.

She dragged her gaze down to my stomach. “Harr— I’m sorry oh god” she whispered and reached for a napkin, she was freaking out about to cry and her cheeks were flashing. I stopped her.

“Hay hay, relax it’s fine, happens to everyone” It doesn't happen to everyone. Only happens when you’re so horny.

“it’s okay“ I pulled her between my arms and kissed her head, “you’re so sweet you know? For a first kiss this one was pretty amazing. If I didn't know you I wouldn’t believe it was your first kiss”.

She laughed. “Now i need the bathroom, can i go?” She pulled away “uhmm”

Grey jumped up to her. I walked fast upstairs to my bedroom and go to the bathroom and locked it.

I took my cock out, I tried to be fast, I fist my hand around my cock and let out inhuman grumbling, i fucked my hand fast and hard, with her image on my mind, swollen lips, red cheeks, the line between her breasts, I want to bury my face between them, her delicious thighs, and what is between them, I want to smell, bury myself inside her, I want her touch on me, and I want to touch her everywhere.

“Fuuucccckk” I came so hard, my cum all over the toilet, the guilt on my chest so heavy.

I cleaned the toilet, i took my shirt off and smell the almost dry spot, her smell so good.

I put the shirt in the closet I don’t want to wash it. And changed my pants and put t-shirt on. I went downstairs and she was playing with Grey.

When she looked at me her cheeks turned red, “need something to drink princess?” “Water please “ she mumbled.

I grabbed two glasses. “Sleep here tonight, it’s getting late” she choked on the water, and shook her head no, "I'll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed." She shook her head no again.

“I don’t have to go to work tomorrow, we can make breakfast together.” She looked at me hesitantly and then said, “I don’t have my stuff to stay in.” Grey clung to her and licked her cheek. “It tickles me, oh my god,” she laughed. “I have an extra toothbrush, and I can lend you my clothes.” I smiled at the scene in front of me.

“Harry,” she said, clearly trying to refuse. “I won’t take no for an answer. You brought a cake, huh?”

Her face lit up even more. “Yes! I’ll get it.” I went with her to the kitchen and pulled out a plate. We cut off a piece and started eating. “Your house is so beautiful.” She said as she tried to sit on the counter but couldn’t so I lifted her up. I stood between her legs and held the plate between us. “Really?” “Uh huh.”

“We’re going for a tour in a bit.” Grey came over and started making noises as she tried to jump. We laughed and then I got down and lifted her up to sit on my Angel thighs. “She’s so cute ahghhh”

I've never seen Gray like anyone.

Lillian’s POV

We finished and Harry dropped me off the counter and walked to a door near the kitchen. "Let's go to the basement first"

he said as we went down the stairs and into the gym. "Wow you have your own gym?"

I walked around the room with Harry standing behind me. We went upstairs and went to Harry's office.

There was a desk in front of a floor-to-ceiling window and a library filled with files and books. We walked out silently and went upstairs.

There was a door right in front of the stairs. "This is my room" he said in my ear.

I felt my stomach burn from his deep voice. We walked in, the walls were gray, a very large bed, a couch next to the balcony. The dressing table was between the archway and the bathroom door.

We entered the archway it was a closet.

"Oh my god" it was very beautiful and very big. I looked at Harry in surprise as he smiled.

"Do you own the house?" He nodded.

"I won't forgive you if you sell it."

We walked out of the room and went to three more, all of them guest bedrooms.

Down the hall we entered the laundry room. "Do you have a roof?" I asked.

"No but I have a garden" he said and we went to his room. I sat on the edge of his bed and looked around. The bed was very comfortable and soft and very manly too.

Harry came back from the closet. "I got a t-shirt and shorts and sweatpants I didn't know what you'd like" I blushed and took them. "Thank you.. I need the bathroom" I said as I walked.

I closed the door and it was a very large bathroom with a bathtub and a shower area enclosed. I used the toilet and then got dressed.

My panties were so wet so I took them off and covered them with my dress and put them aside. What happened earlier was so embarrassing.

The pants were too long so I put on the shorts. They were tight but comfortable. His t-shirt was so big and covered my thighs.

I went out and told Harry I was going to get my bag.

I brought makeup remover wipes after our first dinner.

I learned my lesson.

I asked him if he had any face wash and he gave it to me along with a new toothbrush.

I washed up and went out and he got in after me.

I sat on the bed and looked at the clock. It was 11. I didn't have a sleep schedule. Whenever I slept, I slept.

"I can sleep on the couch," Harry said. We already slept in the same bed so there's no need for all this.

"No, it's okay, you can sleep here." Grey entered the room and Harry took her out and closed the door. Then he turned off the lights.

It was very quiet as I got under the grey covers. It was very cold but I tried to warm up.

Next to me Harry, he moved a bit then stopped. "Thanks Harry." I whispered.

"It's okay princess, good night." "Good night."

I kept moving. I couldn't sleep. I didn't know if Harry had fallen asleep.

I looked at the clock and it was 1 am.

I thought about what to do and then decided to get out of bed.

I opened the door quietly and closed it and went downstairs.

Grey was awake too so I sat down to play with her on the living room rug.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" I jumped and put my hand on my heart.

"Harry you scared me." He came beside me.

"You need to sleep let's go." He took my hand and led me upstairs.

“I need water,” I whispered as we entered the room.

Harry sat me down and went to get some. He gave it to me.

“Thank you.” He lay down and pulled me towards him.

A heat between my thighs but I tried to ignore everything and focus on Harry’s breathing.

My head was between his neck and his shoulder, my body on his, he was so warm.

“Harry I can’t sleep.” He held me tighter. “Shhh relax your body.” I tried to relax it but it was no use.

I tried to get out of his grip but he wouldn’t let me.

��Stop moving, I won’t let you go,” he said sleepily. “Harry you sleep, I can’t sleep.” I groaned.

“You’re going to sleep.” I gave up and hugged him tightly, closing my eyes and breathing in his scent.

There wasn’t a single thought in my mind so I fell asleep.

Please tell me what you think :3

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kickthecan-revolution · 1 year ago

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The camera is kind of insane. This is a five point telephoto lens.

Peach and I had a rough night last night. Cats are naturally active at night, ferals particularly so, so she had a lot of energy/anxiety. It was so cute watching her play with her toys, up until the point where she was jumping up on the door, and I realized this smart little sister cat was trying to open up the door, jumping up on it, trying to pull it down. And she could have, or locked herself inside. I froze - she’s only 4 pounds, she would hide somewhere I couldn’t find her, and it would definitely be a danger to the other cats if she got outside, somehow so I slept in my soaker to try to dissuade her but that didn’t even work - for hours I would watch her run around the bathroom try to jump on the door, shush her away, and then she would fall asleep in that kitten exhaustion for an hour. It went on and on like that for the entire night. I finally went outside and slept on the couch for a few minutes, and then got us ready for our vet appointment. When I went to put her in her carrier , she wouldn’t even take any chicken. She was exhausted. When I looked more closely in the fleas were just all over her little face.

That was… Awful, no sleep I couldn’t protect my imagination from the flea infestation in my house, even though I’ve been really good about immediately taking my clothes off that I use with her and sanitizing them and washing everything three times. Still, those fuckers are tricky, still no sign of anything in the house and I give the cats regular flea medication, which apparently will stop the spread if there is any. Mostly though, I just felt so terrible for her.

At the vet, I was exhausted and asked for a flea bath versus the topical and oral medication that she needed, and when they said they didn’t do flea baths, I burst into tears. this whole thing has been pretty intense, I wasn’t planned for it, and my lack of experience and relying upon my vet’s technician who isn’t great on follow through has left l me feeling stuck. In the last couple of days, she’s been a poor communicator, saying someone is dropping by to give peach, a flea topical solution, but never did, and I know how busy she is in her own work, so it was just hard to reach out and constantly hound her She also said she had a foster but the fleas needed to be cleared prior but she’s been so unreliable. I didn’t even know if that was true or not. Just like peach, I don’t trust people and you learn to do it on your own.

So I called her and she was actually great, she confirmed that there was absolutely a foster, we just needed to get her checked out and get the fleas off because the foster has cats that have a really horrible reaction to fleas. And the foster is right across the waterway from me which is even better so I can go visit her. We aren’t out of the woods, if she’s got some kind of respiratory infection and it's serious. She won’t be able to go, but I am just having Faith that she’s OK, and antibiotics will cure it and there’s nothing serious .

I left her for all of her vaccines and flea treatment, and all the testing, came home, and literally scoured every inch of that bathroom reset it so she couldn’t get behind the toilet, and tried to MacGyver something over the doorhandle. They called for me to come and fetch her, but I was an hour late, frantic to get it all done

So she will be here for a couple more days. She is pooped and found the perfect little hiding place, I’m just letting her be. She seems so exhausted, and of course she is with all those chemicals passing through her tiny little body, but at least all the fleas die within an hour or so of the medication so that has to eventually feel so much better.

I’ve learned so much about myself and my own feral, terrified survival energy I don’t even know what is that I’m protecting myself from. Dan is always was incredibly insightful, and I need to do some work here but, I’ve also learned a lot and a feral kitten, playing with her toys, no more fleas, and that torture.

And getting a feral kitten to take chicken from your hand, makes me feel like a giant.

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dancingwiththoughts · 7 months ago

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Medwhump May Day 19: Blood Loss

Okay, so I figured that today instead of a fic or art, I'd share a story time.

So, about a year ago, I started having a nosebleed. I was home alone from school because I had been feeling overly tired. I had had nosebleeds before, is I figured that it was nothing new and starting pinching with a Kleenex, trying to get it to stop.

About thirty minutes passed, and I started to get a bit nervous. It was gushing out blood to the point of when I changed out the tissue, it was literally gushing from my nose. I texted my mom, who was working as a substitute teacher at an elementary school, and she told me to call my dad, the owner of a small consulting company, if it didn't stop in the next ten minutes.

I did just that, and after explaining the situation the him, he called our family doctor to see what she had to say. While he was on this call, I start to hear ringing in my ears. Everything suddenly gets very hot, and my vision darkens and it's hard to breathe. I do my best to text my dad through shaking hands, and he says that he is on his way home and we're going to the ER.

As he's driving to come get me, I am sitting on the kitchen floor trying not to pass out. My puppy is sifting in front of me, franticly nudging my leg with his nose (he's a small, caviler King Charles). My dad eventually arrives, takes me to the ER, and we get checked in and seen almost immediately.

There were no rooms left in the hospital, so I'm in a makeshift office that's in the hall, and they're asking me all sorts of questions about if I'm sexually active, have I had nosebleeds like this before, how long has it been since the bleed started, etc.

After I answer all of their questions, they give me Afrin to try and stop the bleeding. It works, and I get to go home. By this point it's been almost five hours, and so my dad takes me home and decides to stay and make sure I'm okay. Everything seems fine for a while, until dinner.

I sneeze, and I start bleeding again. I rush upstairs to where my mom is cooking dinner, and explain the situation to her. She grabs the Afrin to try and use it, but then freaks out, calling my dad over. I don't understand why she's panicking, but then she states that I'm bleeding from my eye.

I have anxiety, and this only worsened it, so I was doing my best to stay calm. My dad drives me back to the hospital, where I'm at for six hours before being transferred. Once I got to the other hospital, it was starting to slow down, and I am kept overnight for examination. They have no clue what caused the bleeds, and since I wasn't bleeding anymore, they send me home. This cycle repeats for about three months, and to this day we still don't know what caused it all.

But I'm still surprised, because according to the doctors, I somehow did not suffer negatively from the blood loss. I was tested, but nothing came back as negative or cause for concern. I did not become anemic of suffer from any lack of iron, which was totally unexpected with the levels of blood I had lost.

But anyways, that's all for this story time. I hope you liked the change of pace, and thanks for reading!

#medwhump may #real life #whump scenario #tw blood #blood loss #nose bleeds

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silvfyre-writings · 2 years ago

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Tell me a story, Ranpo-kun Pt. 1 (BSD Fanfic)

Hello and welcome, I hope you enjoy your stay. It's gonna be a ride, and hopefully a good one!

The idea for this fic came to me, and it's all I could think about for two days (literally, even at work, I was thinking about it), so I sat down and started writing and... yeah. I currently have two chapters written, and five in total planned (it will not be more than five, I promise). The words just wouldn't stop coming haha.

This is my first time writing from Ranpo's perspective, and a first for writing the other characters that appear (aside form Fukuzawa), so I hope the characterization is okay.

So, yeah, enjoy and feel free to leave a like or reblog, or both!!!

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16 years old, 18 years old

Ranpo is no stranger when it comes to hospitals. He’s been in and out of them for years now, so much so that he knows most of the staff by name and they know him. Yokohama’s main hospital is basically his second home at this point in his life, and as much as it sucks, there’s not much he can really do about it. He feels just a little bad for Fukuzawa—the man that had been raising him for the past two years after an accident had taken his parents from him—who has to foot the medical bill whenever Ranpo winds up staying in the hospital for more than a week.

It’s fine, the man always says, as though Ranpo is unable to see the bills on his desk that are slowly accumulating over time, being paid off slower than they appear. But as long as Fukuzawa continues to turn a blind eye, Ranpo will too; one day he’ll pay the man back for everything he’s done for him, if he can remain out of hospital long enough to hold down a job once he’s an adult. If he even becomes an adult.

But that’ll have to wait.

First he has to survive the infection he picked up from somewhere that’s burning him alive. That’s the thing about Ranpo’s body; it creates the rules, and refuses to be negotiated with. Sometimes it’s kind to him where instead of pneumonia, it gives him a cold; a papercut instead of an infection. But other times, like right now, it’s cruel and relentless in punishing him. What for, he doesn’t know, but he must’ve done something, right? He was just a sixteen-year-old boy who wanted to go to school and make friends, grow up and put his genius brain to good use helping people just like his parents had before they’d passed. What could he have possibly done to make his body hate him this much?

Ranpo feels something cold brush across his forehead, a welcome distraction from the burning heat he’s been feeling for the past few hours. He tries to lean into it, but that does nothing more than increase the pain that’s settled itself deep into his bones. Ranpo thinks he lets out a whimper—he’s not entirely sure really—when the coolness disappears, but it’s quickly replaced by a feeling he recognizes, even as the fever burns through him. It’s Fukuzawa’s hand, callouses and cracked skin nothing but soothing as fingers brush through his hair. He thinks he hears words, but his brain is too addled to make sense of them.

Everything hurts, but he feels a little better now, knowing that he’s not alone in fighting this latest bout of sickness.

The next time Ranpo became aware of his surroundings, it’s when his fever breaks. The raging fire beneath his skin has calmed, and while it still burns, it’s no longer like his blood is hell itself, and instead more of a sunburn. Unpleasant, but survivable. He struggles to open his eyes, which feel like they’ve had sandpaper dragged over them, but he finally manages to open them, grateful when he opens them to a dark room. The lights of the hospital are always painful to Ranpo’s already sensitive eyes, even more so whenever he was unconscious for more than a day.

The next thing that Ranpo noticed once his eyes had adjusted, was that he wasn’t alone in the room, but it wasn’t Fukuzawa sitting by his bedside. In fact, Ranpo didn’t recognize the man sitting beside his bed at all, and that was concerning. Ranpo was familiar with all the staff in the hospital and this stranger wasn’t one of them. But he must’ve been staff; Fukuzawa wouldn’t have let a total stranger into his room. They were both overly cautious in that regard.

“You aren’t Fukuzawa.” Ranpo croaked out after studying the man and the way he was scribbling into a notebook for several minutes.

The man’s eyes jerked up, the notebook in his lap falling to the ground, clearly not expecting Ranpo to try and talk to him. And normally, Ranpo wouldn’t talk to a total stranger, not without someone to mediate between the two of them, but Fukuzawa wasn’t here and his body still felt like deadweight, so trying to call for a nurse was pointless.

“Ah, no, I-I’m not.” The man’s voice was quiet and heavily accented, although Ranpo couldn’t tell from what country. Maybe if he’d given himself more time he could figure it out, but it was taking all the energy he had to remain awake enough for this conversation. “Fukuzawa-san had to step out for a moment to talk to the doctor. I happened to be walking past when he asked me to sit with you until his return.”

Ranpo frowned which seemed to prompt the man into answering his unasked question. “I work here, in-in the hospital, I mean. It’s my day off, but I, uh, come and-and read to the children sometimes.”

“Oh.” Later, when Ranpo’s body would stop threatening to drag him back into the fiery pits of hell he’d just escaped from, he’d be able to make sense of the words. But as the darkness rose to claim him again, he only managed to murmur out a quiet, “that’s nice,” before slipping into unconsciousness once more.

Ranpo wakes after an unknown amount of time passes by, but the strange man from earlier is gone, and Fukuzawa sitting in the singular chair in the room, looking like he’s aged ten years since Ranpo’s last coherent memory of the man, which depending on how long he’d been locked in battle with the fever, could be anywhere from one day to a week. But something’s telling Ranpo it’s only been about three days, and it might have something to do with the fact that the creases that had begun to take residence on Fukuzawa’s forehead were nowhere to be seen for a change, meaning the man isn’t as stressed as he usually is during these events.

There’s still hope yet, that this most recent stay will only be a short one.

Fukuzawa’s eyes meet Ranpo’s own, and the relief is evident, and a smile forms on his guardian’s face; another testament to how worried he’d been since Fukuzawa didn’t really do emotions like other people did, preferring to let others assume he had none to begin in. Unlike Ranpo, where emotions were everything, and he simply felt too much. He opened his mouth to say something, only to let out a harsh croak as his voice failed him, and just like that, the usual routine happened. Fukuzawa moved confidently, helping Ranpo sit up in the bed—making sure that there were pillows behind his back for him to sink into before grabbing a bottle of water, the cap off and straw already inserted. This was usually where the routine varied. Sometimes Ranpo was strong enough to hold the bottle himself, but others, like now, he had to let someone hold the bottle up to his lips so that he could drink. Years ago, he’d found it embarrassing, but now he just didn’t care. He’d rather be helped than spill the water over himself and the bed.

“I’m sorry.” Ranpo said once he’d had a drink, eyes drifting away to stare at nothing in particular. He always apologized to Fukuzawa whenever he woke up in hospital; it made sense to, when Fukuzawa always seemed to be putting his own life on hold just to tend to Ranpo whenever his body gave up on him.

And just like clockwork, Fukuzawa’s deep voice responded. “It’s fine.”

Ranpo hummed, accepting the words but not believing them. It wasn’t fine, it never was, but there wasn’t anything Ranpo could do about it, but play the hand that life had dealt him, even if it was a losing one. He heard Fukuzawa sigh, and knew he’d failed at hiding his disbelief—not that he was any good at hiding his emotions from someone who was so adept at reading people and their intentions. So it didn’t really surprise him to know that Fukuzawa saw right through him.

“Really, Ranpo, it’s fine.” Fukuzawa said, getting out of the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. “The hospital isn’t charging us this time.”

Oh. That’s a relief. Sometimes, when Ranpo’s visits only last a few days, the hospital doesn’t charge them. It’s a generous offer born from the first time he’d had to have surgery to save his life under Fukuzawa’s care—when the man hadn’t yet understood what taking in Ranpo meant, and hadn’t quite been able to afford the surgery. The hospital’s higher ups had taken pity on the recently orphaned boy and his recently acquired guardian, and saved Ranpo’s life; pro-bono. It was nice, to know some people still had hearts in this cruel world.

It also probably had to something to do with that this was Ranpo’s seventh hospital stay this year.

“What happened?” Ranpo asked, because try as he might, the last thing he could remember was eating dinner with Fukuzawa and the other staff at the small café his guardian managed.

Fukuzawa reached over and brushed his hand against the bandage that’s wrapped around Ranpo’s ankle. “One of the cats scratched you and you reacted to it.”

“Oh.” How stupid. Of course, something as simple as a cat scratch was enough to land him in the hospital. Ranpo refused to dwell on it and pushed through to his next question. “How long?”

“Only two days. I thought you might be able to fight it off at home, but the fever caused you to seize, so I brought you in.” Fukuzawa explained, letting the words sink in before continuing. “You’ll be discharged tomorrow probably.”

“Is that what Yosano-sensei said?” Ranpo asked, finding it unlikely that his doctor would discharge him so quick. The woman, a genius in her field, always liked to be thorough in her patient’s treatment and was unlikely to let Ranpo leave so easily, especially nor after this most recent episode.

“Well, no, but I’m hopeful. It wasn’t that bad this time round.”

“I had a seizure.”

“And the last time you had a fever, you were hallucinating and unable to breathe. I’ll take the seizure.” Fukuzawa raised one eyebrow, daring Ranpo to argue with him. Ranpo huffed and sunk into the pillows, exhausted from how long he’d been talking. A hand tapped his leg and he looked back towards Fukuzawa. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Ranpo allowed himself a smile in return to the words. He closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep, when a thought crossed his mind that had them snapping back open. “Wait!”

“What is it?” Fukuzawa frowned, halfway between sitting and standing. “Do you need something.”

The image of the stranger with a notebook sitting by his side flitted across his mind, disappearing just as quickly as it had arrived. “Who was sitting with me? When you had to talk to the doctor?”

Fukuzawa didn’t look surprised at the question; Ranpo had long since proven that even when delirious with sickness, he still remembered certain things that happened in his semi-conscious states. Like this stranger that Fukuzawa had trusted to watch over him. “That was Poe-san. He’s a nurse here. He offered to sit with you when Yosano-sensei stopped by yesterday to talk to me.”

“Poe-san?” It wasn’t a Japanese name, that much was certain, which did help to explain the accent that Ranpo sort of remembered hearing. He closed his eyes again. “I don’t know him.”

A soft chuckle came from Fukuzawa’s direction. “He hasn’t been here long from what I’ve heard, so I’m not surprised.” A hand came and gently ruffled his hair. “Sleep, Ranpo. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“You know, if you really missed me that much, you could’ve just come and visited. You didn’t need to put yourself in the hospital. That’s not nearly as much fun. You know they actually allowed me to leave to come sit by your bedside while you tried to die.” Dazai’s voice filtered from somewhere behind Ranpo, as annoying and unwelcome as it always was.

“Shut up. We both know that Nakahara sat in this room with you the entire time.” Ranpo grunted, opening one eye to look over his shoulder, ignoring the way Dazai tutted at him and shoved his head back to where it had been before, long fingers finding their way back into his hair as Dazai turned yet another section of hair into a misshapen braid.

Dazai was another constant in Ranpo’s life, albeit a recent one. They were the same age, and both were frequent visitors to the hospital, but that was where their similarities ended. Where Ranpo was usually in the hospital fighting to live, Dazai was usually in hospital fighting to die. Ranpo didn’t understand it, didn’t want to understand it, in the same way that Dazai didn’t want to understand why Ranpo kept fighting against a body that clearly didn’t want to live.

It was an unspoken rule between the two that they’d been following since the day they’d met almost a year ago.

Ranpo had been in an isolated room, fighting off some contagious illness—because of course he was—and it had been the kind where only specific people were allowed to interact with him; namely the doctor treating him and a singular nurse. It had been the first—and only—time that he’d been barred from having someone sit with him, and it had been so incredibly boring and lonely. Until a boy wrapped in bandages had ignored the big ‘quarantine’ sticker on the outside of the door and barged right into his room.

For some reason, Dazai had looked just as surprised as Ranpo was to see him.

“You look like shit.” The first words out of Dazai’s mouth, and they were an insult. Ranpo was promptly offended.

“Feel free to leave.” He rasped, barely able to keep his eyes open as shivers wracked his body. “Probably should. Contagious.”

“Oh, good, maybe you’ll give it to me, and then I can finally die.” Dazai crossed the room and without even asking permission, clambered onto the bed, pushing Ranpo upright in a not so gentle way before sitting behind him. “You’re shivering a lot. Are you cold?”

Yes, I feel like I’ve embodied the Arctic. Ranpo wanted to say. He was freezing, his blood like ice, even though it was actually far from the truth and that he was actually burning. His immune system had gone haywire in trying to fight off sickness, and now he was feeling the cold when only an hour earlier he’d been feeling the heat. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. But instead of admitting he was cold, like a sensible person would, he turned his head as far as he could and glared. “No. Get away from me.”

Instead of obeying him, arms swathed in bandages had wrapped around him, and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. “No thank you. If I leave, I’ll be found and where’s the fun in that.”

As sick as he was, Ranpo immediately understood what Dazai was implying and groaned. “Really? Escaping from the psych ward? And you chose here of all places to hide out?”

“No one would think to check the isolation ward now, would they?” The arms disappeared from around him and hands began to run through Ranpo’s hair, and he couldn’t help but become boneless at the motion. It felt like it’d been years since someone at touched him so gently, even though it most certainly had only been a couple of weeks; the attention was welcome, that was what Ranpo was getting at.

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t.” Ranpo sighed, letting his eyes drift close. “Do what you want, just don’t throw me under the bus when they find you.”

A gentle tug at a strand of hair. “I think I’ll stay and keep a very sickly boy company for a little bit. You know, just in case he happens to die during his nap. No one should die alone, after all.”

Ranpo had gone to sleep with those words on his mind, grateful for Dazai’s presence at the time; it had been a nice break from the constant loneliness, and reassuring that if that had truly been the day he was going to die, that he wasn’t going to be alone when it happened.

But he’d survived.

And Dazai had become a thorn in his side ever since.

Ranpo was pulled back to the present by the familiar sensation of his hair being tugged, and opened his eyes. Dazai had once compared him to a cat with how much Ranpo enjoyed his hair being played with; there had also been an insult tacked onto the end of it mocking just how much Ranpo slept as well, but Ranpo had simply ignored that part of the conversation. Ranpo didn’t see how he could compare to a cat, but Fukuzawa had once told him a similar thing, and if two people were telling him he was like a cat, then something about it must be true.

Another tug. “What? You trying to make me bald?”

Dazai scoffed. “As if. If anything, you need a haircut. And a shower.”

“Sorry, been too busy ‘attempting to die’ as you so kindly put it. It’s shower day today, though, so come back tomorrow if you want clean hair to play with.”

“Ah, but what it tomorrow doesn’t come for me tomorrow? I could still die by then, you know?”

“Doubt it. I don’t want you committing suicide in front of me, and Nakahara’s sitting outside the room waiting for you.” Ranpo pulled away from where he’d been leaning against Dazai’s chest, the boy choosing that moment to slip out from behind him. He watched as Dazai sidled up to the door and peered out the tiny window, a look of disgust forming on his face.

“Ugh, Chuuya’s no fun. I managed to steal a scalpel the other day and he tackled me to the ground before I could do anything with it.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be stealing scalpels then. They need those, you know.”

Dazai huffed, and slunk back over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it this time. If Ranpo had the strength, he would’ve kicked the boy off his bed. For someone that claimed to hate any and all physical contact, Dazai was more than happy to throw himself all over Ranpo’s personal space; had been that way since the day they met, and nothing Ranpo did ever deterred him from continuing to be an invader. “Get off.”

“Make me.” Came the response, followed by the shit-eating grin that Dazai always wore when he was trying to get on someone’s nerves, mostly his social workers and therapists, but that didn’t stop the boy from trying to do the same to his one friend in this hospital.

Too bad Ranpo was able to both figure out, and evade, Dazai’s tactics.

Silence fell between the two friends, Dazai swinging his legs and humming some song Ranpo didn’t recognize; Ranpo slowly moving to lean back against the pillows, hoping to get some more sleep before the nurses came and harassed him at the same time they always did; five o’clock sharp. Speaking of nurses…

“Oi, Dazai.”

“Hmm?” Dazai stopped humming, but didn’t look at him.

“Know anything about the new nurse?” Ranpo asked. If there was one thing Dazai was good for, it was information; the boy just as good at eavesdropping as he was at hiding from the hospital staff.

“Poe-san?” Dazai tilted his head. “Not much. He’s a student. Foreign—American I believe. Started working here a month ago. I’ve seen him around when Chuuya takes me outside sometimes, always scribbling in a notebook. I wanted to go say hi, but the hatrack wouldn’t let me.”

Ranpo snorted at the nickname Dazai had taken to calling Nakahara simply because of how often the guy wore hats. “He probably didn’t want you scaring him off like you do your therapists. How long has this latest one lasted you?”

“Ugh, three months. I swear the guy’s a masochist. He keeps coming back no matter what I do and it’s infuriating. He’s just so God damn patient and calm and human! I told him about my latest idea for a peaceful death, and he just told me how it was in fact, not a peaceful way to go. He ruined it.” Dazai ranted, coming to pause for a moment. “He’s talking about discharging me, actually. You think he would’ve learnt from the first time he did that.”

“Oh? When?” It was Ranpo’s turn to tilt his head. Dazai had been in the hospital for a little over a month now, if Ranpo was remembering correctly, his last attempt on his life having been the one closest to succeeding. Ranpo himself hadn’t been in the hospital when it had happened, but Fukuzawa had received a phone call, and he’d told Ranpo who’d then dragged his own ass over to the hospital to sit by Dazai’s bedside until he woke up.

It was the least he could do when Dazai had so often done the same for him.

“Next week. With precautions of course—because apparently I’m untrustworthy—and into Chuuya’s custody, blah blah blah. I stopped listening at that point. Seeing Chuuya every day is already painful enough, so why must they make me suffer in living with him too? Just kill me and save me the effort.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Ranpo shrugged, and nudged Dazai with his leg to get the boy to look at him. “Stay out of hospital for more than a month this time.”

“Only if you do the same.”

Ranpo sighed. “I can’t promise that.”

“Then neither can I.”

Five o’clock came, and with that came Yosano and two nurses; the one that Ranpo usually dealt with and, surprisingly, Poe. Dazai was gone by then, having been dragged back to his own room by Nakahara, the older—and shorter—man scolding Dazai for pulling yet another disappearing act, despite sitting outside the room for over an hour while the two of them had talked, and replaced by Fukuzawa, who dutifully took his spot in the chair by Ranpo’s bed.

“Ranpo, how are you feeling?” Yosano greeted as she entered the room. Ranpo glowered at her, conveying exactly how he felt with just that one look. Yosano cackled. “I see. Well good news is that you’re responding to the medication, so if your condition remains stable overnight, we’ll be able to discharge you tomorrow.”

“Great.” Ranpo let his eyes drift towards the young nurse standing timidly at Yosano’s left, lucid enough this time to actually study the guy. He was tall, although it wasn’t immediately obvious from the way he was hunched over in a way that screamed he was someone that didn’t like being in the centre of attention. He had long hair, way longer than Ranpo’s own, that was currently pulled back into a ponytail.

He wasn’t all that impressive.

“Who’s the new guy?” He asked, ignoring the subtle warning look that Fukuzawa sent him. If he was rude, he was rude, and if Poe couldn’t handle that, then maybe he was working in the wrong industry.

“This is Poe.” Yosano gestured towards Poe who jumped at being addressed before giving a polite, but awkward, bow. “He’s one of our student nurses, on exchange from America. I figured, since you’re one of our frequent flyers, Ranpo, I’d save you the trouble of sending Dazai on a manhunt for information and introduce you.”

“Why would I send Dazai, when I can just ask?” Ranpo argued weakly, when in fact, he had been planning just that.

And Yosano clearly knew it from the way she raised her eyebrow at him. Thankfully, she dropped the subject in favour of actually doing her job. “Anyway, Haruno’s here to assist you this evening, and Poe is shadowing her. Please behave and allow the poor boy to actually learn something. I need to talk to Fukuzawa-san for a moment.”

Ranpo frowned as Yosano and Fukuzawa left the room, leaving him in the hands of the nurses. Where there would usually be friendly banter, there was awkward silent, Poe’s presence an uncertain variable; because he was an absolute stranger, compared to Haruno who’d been taking care of him since he was fourteen, and Ranpo was not good at making friendly conversation to people he didn’t feel comfortable with.

Fukuzawa was easy; the man had taken him in, no questions asked, for which he was eternally grateful. He was the reason he had a place to live.

Yosano had been his doctor for years; she was almost like an older sister to him, always coming up with new, painless ways to treat whatever ailment he was suffering from. She was the reason he’d been able to live life outside the hospital in the first place.

Dazai was Dazai; he’d tied himself to Ranpo and refused to let go, no matter how much Ranpo tried to cut the rope. He was the reason he hadn’t gone insane inside the hospital.

Poe was a wildcard, a foreigner that Ranpo knew nothing about except that he was American and a student. So Ranpo remained silent, but compliant, allowing the two nurses to disconnect the tubes still connected to him, and get him out of the bed. He had Haruno on one side, and Poe on his other, both of them holding his elbows so that he could shakily place one foot in front of the other. This was what he hated the most about being so frail, so sick, all the time. Losing his independence. Sure, when he was having his good months, he could shower on his own and do all the things that non-sick people did, but the moment a bad day came around, all of his motor skills abandoned him and left him needing to rely on others. He’d gotten used to it, but he hated that he’d had to in the first place.

“Poe-san.” Ranpo called, interrupting Haruno’s careful instructions on how to shower a patient that was unable to support themselves, and the proper technique for it; all stuff Ranpo didn’t care to listen to, he’d been hearing the two talk to each other while they helped him, but had taken none of it in. “Where are you from?”

For once, Poe didn’t jump as he was addressed, unlike the last time Ranpo had spoken to him, but he still struggled to formulate a sentence. “Oh, um, I’m from America.”

“Well, duh, I knew that. But where?”

“Oh!” Ranpo could see the moment the light bulb went off in the guy’s head. “I’m not really… from anywhere in particular. I’ve… moved around a lot, you see, but I was living in New York before I came here.”

“I see. Why come to Yokohama then? Surely New York had all the nursing opportunities you could ask for.”

Poe didn’t answer for a bit, listening as Haruno directed him around the room. Only once Haruno had stopped talking did he answer Ranpo’s question. “It’s an ex-exchange program between America and Japan. They offered me the opportunity and I took it.”

Ranpo hummed. “You said you read to the kids here.”

“Pa-Pardon?” Poe looked a little stunned, like he hadn’t expected the change in topic.

“You. Read. To. The. Kids.” Ranpo enunciated each word clearly, looking over his shoulder at where Poe was standing.

“Oh, uh, yes, yes I do… I’m surprised you remember my sitting with you.” The last part was mumbled, not meant for Ranpo’s ears, but in the quiet of the bathroom, it was unavoidable that he would.

“Why? Oh wait, I bet I know.” Ranpo let a grin grow on his face. “You wanna hear what I think?”

Poe narrowed his eyes, seemingly aware that there was a trap waiting for him, and deciding whether it was worth springing or not. “What do you think?”

Interesting.

“I think you read to the kids because while your Japanese is very good, your reading abilities are still poor—” A flinch; Ranpo had hit the nail on the head. “—and you’re using the kids as an opportunity to practice.”

“Don’t let Ranpo-kun bully you, Poe-san.” Haruno interrupted before Ranpo could give a response. The woman looked down at him over the top of her glasses. “If you let him get under your skin, he’ll pick you to pieces.”

“Haruno-san is no fun.” Ranpo huffed.

“Haruno-san has put up with you for two years now, and knows all your tricks. Now be quiet so I can teach Poe-san, and so you can get back to the bed you need to be in sooner.”

Silence fell, and Ranpo let his eyes close.

Then.

“You’re wrong, about-about why I read to the kids.” Poe’s voice broke the silence.

Ranpo opened his eyes and blinked; it wasn’t often that he was told he was wrong about something he thought he’d figured out. He turned his attention towards Poe. “Oh? Am I?”

Poe nodded, shifting uneasily. “I read to them to practice, that is true, but the stories I read them are of my own creation… written in Japanese. I’m practicing my writing skills, not my language ones.”

That wasn’t what Ranpo had been expecting to hear and he couldn’t help but stare. Poe seemed to mistake his surprised silence as one of anger, because the man quickly began to stutter out an apology for speaking out of turn, when Ranpo laughed, almost falling off the chair. Poe’s apology died off on his lips as he stared at Ranpo in confusion, unsure as to why the boy he was taking care of was laughing of all things.

Ranpo’s laughter died away and he smiled. “I’m not laughing at you, Poe-san, before you think I am. I just never expected you to be a writer. You are an interesting person.” He rested comfortably against the back of the chair, letting his head drop, hair dropping to cover his face. “Tell me a story sometime, Poe-san.”

Ranpo goes back to sleep after he’s returned to his bed and doesn’t wake until morning, missing the way that Fukuzawa comes back in with a pensive look on his face, the way he sits in the chair and buries his face into his hands.

He wakes up the next morning to the news he’s being discharged that afternoon, and a snippet of a story scrawled in messy handwriting on the bedside table in his room. Ranpo makes sure to tuck it into the pocket of his pants as he leaves the hospital on steadier legs than he’d arrived on, and he’s hoping he doesn’t step foot into the building for at least a year.

A mini welcome back party awaits him at the café that Fukuzawa owns, the few staff his guardian employs either patting him on the back or drawing him into hugs. And the several cats that reside within the café itself all come to rub against his legs, like they weren’t the reason he was in the hospital in the first place.

Atsushi cries into his chest, blabbering words and apologies through his tears.

Kyouka presents him with a little gift basket of sweets that she’d put together with the help of the others. Ranpo appreciates their efforts and thanks them, before using his exhaustion as an excuse to escape up the stairs and to his room.

He sleeps for the next two days.

For once in his life, Ranpo’s body cooperates with him, and he’s able to actually live his life a little; he doesn’t go to school—it’s too much of a health risk for him to attend in person—but he still gets an education via online classes and tutoring. Learning is easy for Ranpo, his brain soaking up any and all information, although topics he finds boring are significantly harder for him to focus on, but he’s stubborn and petty if not anything else. He will finish his schooling and he will get a job helping people; if only to help Fukuzawa pay off his medical bills.

When he’s not in class, he’s downstairs helping Fukuzawa run the café. He doesn’t really do much but sit on a chair behind the counter and serve the people that come through the door and get them the baked goods they order. When he’s having a good day, Ranpo’s more than willing to help out more and be useful, and sometimes he does; getting behind the coffee machine and helping Fukuzawa make coffees—he’s become somewhat decent at it now. He tries not to do it too often though, because Fukuzawa gets distracted whenever he does, and it results in careless mistakes.

Just because he got a bad case of vertigo one time and nearly split his head on the counter doesn’t mean he’s completely incapable.

Fukuzawa worries, and Ranpo knows this, but it doesn’t ease the frustration that burns deep in his chest that he’s the reason for the worry in the first place.

Before he knows it, one month is passing, and then two.

Dazai comes by the café sometimes, having been discharged a week after Ranpo like he’d said he would be, and accompanied by Nakahara as he is wont to be these days. Dazai bitches and moans about it to him in the safety of Ranpo’s room, but Ranpo sees right through his friend; this is the fullest of life he’s ever seen Dazai, and he knows its because of whatever Nakahara and Dazai’s unknown therapist are doing; he still doesn’t know this man’s name on account of Dazai refusing to tell him. But he hopes that they keep doing whatever it is they’re doing, because as Dazai actually laughs at something he says, a genuine laugh instead one of his masked ones, Ranpo finds that it suits his friend quite well.

Of course, Dazai struggles as well; his mind the biggest threat to him just as Ranpo’s body is to him, and twice, Ranpo’s received a phone call in the late hours of the night, Dazai on the other end fighting the urge to take a blade to his skin. Twice, Ranpo has coaxed his friend into not relapsing and going into the room next door to wake Nakahara, not hanging up the phone until he hears Nakahara’s voice filter through the phone, soft and soothing, and a far cry from the usual harsh and blunt tone he’s usually set at. And twice, Ranpo received a text in the morning, once from Dazai, and once from Nakahara, both of them thanking him.

Ranpo brushes it off, but deep down he knows he tries because he’s come to actually enjoy Dazai’s presence in his life, and wants his friend to find a reason to keep on living, no matter how small.

Fukuzawa too, seems more relaxed after the second month passes without any incidents—without anymore hospitalizations. The stress begins to fade from his guardian’s face, and the two of them are even able to take a few outings on the two days the café is closed, going to parks, and even taking a trip to the countryside where Ranpo grew up so he can visit the graves of his parents; something he hasn’t been able to do in over a year.

Ranpo has to wear five layers of clothing and a mask, but it’s worth it, because it makes him feel alive.

And that’s where his luck ends.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he jerks awake, crying out when the motion sends fires of agony and pain rippling through his joints. His head simultaneously feels like it’s being compressed and attacked with a jack hammer, and it hurts so bad that even blinking is painful. But the worst part is the nausea and the tremors that cause him even more pain and discomfort. Tears prick at his eyes as he realizes what’s happening and he can’t stop them from rolling down from the corner of his eyes as he sobs. His cries set off another round of agonizing pain and he tries to keep still, because that’s the only thing that’ll save him now, but of course the nausea chooses that moment to make itself very known, because why would Ranpo ever have something go right for a change? Apparently, pain isn’t enough; he needs to be sick too.

Ranpo tries, really does try to drag himself out of bed and to the bathroom, not wanting to make a mess on his bedroom floor, but his body has decided that two months of cooperation is all he’s going to get, and he falls out of bed, hitting the ground hard, which just makes the pain so much worse. His cries worsen, and he knows he’ll probably wake Fukuzawa if the man’s not already awake, but he doesn’t get time to dwell on that before his body is revolting and his dinner acquaints itself with Ranpo’s sleepwear and the floor.

Shame burns through him as he coughs, choking a little on saliva as he vomits again. He hates this. Hates every time this happens, because it’s just a reminder that he’s imperfect, that he’s broken and sick and weak. And while he’d love nothing more than to stand and fight and show his body whose actually in charge here, he just can’t. All he can do is slump to the side and cry as the world spins around him, even though his eyes are closed.

He hears footsteps pad down the hall and soon, a light is flicking on, penetrating his eyelids, and making the migraine attacking his skull so much worse. He just sobs at the pain, unable and unwilling to move or ask for the light to be turned off. Thankfully, Fukuzawa understands the situation and the light flicks off before a different light is flicking on, one outside his room. The footsteps rapidly come closer and a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

The pain doubles from that one touch, and Ranpo lets out a wail of agony, continuing to shiver and shake on the floor whilst Fukuzawa gets his thoughts together. The hand is pulled away.

Through the pain, Ranpo manages to hear Fukuzawa’s voice, talking to someone on a phone and Ranpo, through the haze of pain and sickness, understands what’s about to happen and has decided he doesn’t want it. Not this time. He doesn’t want to go back to hospital, not when he’d been free for two months. Not when it’s only been two months. He doesn’t want to add more medical bills to an already empty wallet. He doesn’t want to be anymore of a burden on Fukuzawa than he already is.

Most of all, he doesn’t want an eighth stay at the hospital.

Somehow, Ranpo finds the strength to latch onto Fukuzawa’s wrist that’s just within his reach, and his mind clears enough for him to start begging, hoping that he makes sense to his guardian. “No, please, please, I don’t want to go. I’m tired, I want to stay here. Please, Fukuzawa. Don’t make me go back.” He opens his eyes but can’t see anything through the tears so he closes them again.

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa’s voice breaks through to him. “You’re not well, you need—”

“No!” Ranpo sobs, and then chokes and coughs, panic joining the party after lingering in the corner of the room since it had started. He knows he’s starting to hyperventilate and that right now, it’s the worst thing he could possibly be doing, but panic has never been rational, not with Ranpo. He’s still speaking—attempting to at least—but it’s no longer making sense. He’s being illogical; he knows the hospital is the best thing for him right now, but it’s also the last place he wants to be. He’d promised Dazai he’d stay out of the hospital, and it’s the one promise in his life—after the one he’d made to his parents to keep fighting no matter what—that he wants to keep.

He hears Fukuzawa on the phone again, thinks he hears his guardian pleading with whoever is on the other end of the line, and knows that he’s being listened to, that Fukuzawa will do his absolute best to keep Ranpo out of the hospital unless there’s no other option. That knowledge allows him to relax as much as his body will let him, and he lets himself drift, away from the pain and the cold that have haunted him since he was young.

What brings Ranpo back to awareness is the feeling of a needle sliding into his arm and he opens his eyes, finding that he’s able to see now and finds himself looking into Yosano’s concerned face. He’s still on the floor, still covered in sick and sweat, and still shaking, but the pain is easing; the fires licking at his joints and his head begin to retreat back to where they’d come from, waiting for a chance to strike again.

“Hey there, kid.” Yosano says, kneeling in front of him, reaching out to brush some hair from his face. “You look a right mess.”

Ranpo can do nothing more than stare, but even that becomes too much, and his head tilts towards the ground. He feels… odd, and he can’t quite put a finger on what the feeling is, but it’s a strange feeling. He wonders if it’s whatever drug that he’s been injected with; a painkiller if the distinct lack of pain is anything to go by. He doesn’t like the way it clouds his mind.

“What’s wrong with him?” Fukuzawa’s voice comes from somewhere that Ranpo can’t see, and he thinks he can hear a hint of panic in his voice. Ranpo wants to tell him not to stress, that he’ll be fine, but all that comes out is a garbled sound.

“It’s just the painkillers.” Yosano is as calm as she always is. “It’s the strong stuff, and it acts quickly, so my guess would be that he’s gone from a ten on the pain scale to a zero, and he’s just a little out of it as a result.”

“Ah, but—”

“Fukuzawa.” Yosano interrupts, the lack of honorific showing how focused she is on doing her job. “It’ll be okay. Just let us do our job. We’ll get Ranpo cleaned up and comfortable. Can you handle the mess in here?”

We? Who else is here?

“Of course.” Ranpo hears Fukuzawa sigh and leave the room.

“Okay, Poe, grab his legs, I’ve got his chest. We’ll lift on three and move to the bathroom. Don’t expect any cooperation so get a good grip.”

“Yes, Yosano-sensei.”

Oh. Ranpo manages to tilt his head enough that he can see the second figure in the room, and sure enough, it’s Poe, looking much more confident than the last time Ranpo had seen him, yet still somehow making himself look smaller than he actually was. It’s then that Ranpo notices something else; while Poe is dressed in the scrubs that nurses wear, Yosano is not. In fact, it looks like the woman is in her own sleep clothes, with a coat thrown over the top of them.

“’rry.” Ranpo thinks it’s a word. His mouth opens and sound comes out, but he can’t really focus on what he’s saying.

But Yosano is nothing but an amazing doctor who can understand the gibberish her patients spit at her at times. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Ranpo has everything to be sorry for, but he’s not in the mood to try and argue against his doctor, not when she’s clearly come from the comfort of her own home to treat him. Instead, Ranpo lets his eyes drift to Poe, who on Yosano’s count helps to lift him, and observes the way the other man seems determined. Poe’s arms tremble a little as he lifts Ranpo’s legs, and honestly, Ranpo doesn’t think he’s that heavy. Sure, he loves his food, but he’s never been able to put on much weight.

Poe’s eyes meet his own, and the man gives him a reassuring smile, and suddenly Ranpo thinks he’ll be alright after all.

They sit him on the edge of the bathtub, and Ranpo does his best to stay upright so that they can strip him of his soiled clothing. It’s hard, but he manages and soon he’s in the bathtub itself, and he hears the water running and Yosano speaking.

“I’m going to find him something clean and warm to wear. Can you handle the rest?”

Poe nods. “Yes ma’am.”

Yosano leaves and now it’s just Poe and Ranpo and the silence that encompasses the room. Ranpo can hear Poe moving around the bathroom, finding what he needs and bringing it back so he doesn’t have to leave Ranpo unattended for long. The water stops running, and Ranpo hears the familiar sound of a cloth being squeezed seconds before its rubbing at his face. Ranpo can’t help but scrunch up his face, disliking the way the fabric feels on his skin, and tries to turn away, but a gentle hand forces him to be still.

“It’ll be uncomfortable for just a moment, Ranpo-san. Please bear with it just moment longer.” Poe says as he continues to wipe away the evidence of Ranpo’s latest episode, being as gentle as he can.

Ranpo grunts. He doesn’t think he’d be able to speak a word let alone string a sentence together right now, so he does his best to relax and let Poe work.

Yosano returns just as Poe finishes up, and together, the two wrangle him out of the tub and into the clean clothes that Yosano had brought with her, and before he knows it, Ranpo’s back in his bed, leaning against the headboard with Fukuzawa pressed against his side, a supportive arm around his back. Yosano’s sitting on the edge of the bed by his knee and Poe’s off somewhere else; not that Ranpo’s looking for the man, not at all.

“When did the pain start, Ranpo?” Yosano asks, gently pulling his arm towards her, and he feels the familiar sensation of the alcohol wipe against his vein, and something tight around his arm. She’s about to draw his blood; to find out whether he’s picked up something that’s caused this, or whether it’s just his body being particularly vengeful.

He ignores the way the needle slides into his skin, and buries his face into Fukuzawa’s chest to avoid watching. “I don’t know.” He answers, and it’s the truth, because he doesn’t actually know. He has no idea what the current time is, and has no idea how long it’s been since he’d woken in agony.

“It was just past one when I found him on the floor.” Fukuzawa interjects. “He’d already thrown up by that point, and touch seemed to make the pain worse.”

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?” Yosano asks, her brow furrowed since normally, one would’ve been called.

Fukuzawa’s arm tightens from where it sits across Ranpo’s shoulder, and he’s not even sure the man is aware of it. “I tried to. But Ranpo didn’t want to go.”

Yosano hums, and the needle draws away; finally. “Ranpo, hon.” She waits for him to look at her, or at least, in her direction. “Why didn’t you want the ambulance?”

It’s a genuine question, and he can tell she’s curious about his answer, considering it’s the first time he’s tried to deny himself treatment in the three years Yosano’s been treating him, although Ranpo wouldn’t really call it denying. He wanted the help—wanted the pain to stop; he just didn’t want to go to the hospital to get it. He’s not sure how to put his thoughts into words in order to make them understand that he isn’t being difficult.

He’s just tired.

“Seven times.” He says after the silence long passes what he thinks is acceptable. He can see the slightly confused look on Yosano’s face and licks his lips before forcing himself to go on. “I’ve already been in seven times this year… I didn’t want it to be eight.”

“Ranpo…” Fukuzawa’s voice is pained, but he doesn’t say anything more, just holds him a little closer, a little tighter.

Yosano looks at him like she understands, and really, she probably does. His doctor has a lot of empathy in her heart, hidden behind sharp words and no-nonsense actions. He’s seen her hold a patient close after receiving bad news, but also seen her strong arm a patient that tried to make unwanted advances towards her, so he knows the sympathetic look he’s receiving is genuinely because she cares, and not because she pities him.

A door creaks open, and Poe returns.

“I’ve put everything in the wash, Yosano-sensei. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

“Actually, yes.” Yosano says. “I’m going to take Ranpo’s blood back to the hospital to be tested, but I want you to stay here and watch over him—”

Hope swells within Ranpo’s chest.

“—provided the results come back negative with a virus or infection, I’ll talk to my boss’ about treating Ranpo at home, and arrange for the proper equipment to be brought over when they agree.”

When, not if. Tears well up in Ranpo’s eyes and he looks up with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Poe looks hesitant, but doesn’t argue. “Okay. What do I need to do?"

Yosano leaves after instructing Poe on what he needs to do, and Ranpo only listens half-heartedly as Fukuzawa manhandles him so that Ranpo’s able to lay with his head in his lap, and a hand begins to run through his hair, as it always does when he’s feeling like this. He falls asleep like this and briefly thinks that if tonight’s the night his body finally gives up and he dies, it would be a nice way to go.

When Ranpo wakes up, it’s to a different lap underneath his head. He feels fingers pressed to his pulse and a quiet voice counting upwards and realizes it’s Poe. He’s still tired, but waits for Poe to stop counting before he speaks.

“Tell me a story, Poe-san.” He mumbles. Poe jumps beneath him, and Ranpo lets out a hiss of pain as he’s jostled.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry!” Poe’s quick to apologize, and he freezes until Ranpo’s body finally relaxes. “How are—”

“Tell me a story.” Ranpo repeats.

“A story?” Poe sounds confused, like he’s wondering if Ranpo’s actually aware of his surroundings or not.

“You said you write them. Read one to me. Please.”

“Okay.” Ranpo feels Poe lean away from him, stretching for something that’s just in reach, and he hears the sound of a notebook opening, pages rustling as they are flipped. “Do you, uh, want something in particular?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“Alright then.” Poe says, flicking to a random page and begins to read the words he’s written on it, and Ranpo feels like he’s being wrapped in all the softest blankets he owns. Poe’s voice is calm, sure, solid, with not a single stutter or hesitation in sight, and Ranpo thinks he could listen to it forever. He’s not really in the right state of mind to focus on the words, and he probably won’t remember asking for a story when he wakes up again, but for now, he focuses on the way Poe’s voice spins the words together, creating a world of angels and demons and a kingdom by the sea, allowing it to come to life in his mind as he slips back into sleep.

It’s not an infection, and it’s not a virus.

His body just hates him.

But since it’s not something that’ll kill him, or something he can spread to others, Ranpo is allowed to remain at home to recover. Yosano brings over an actual IV stand in the afternoon, but Poe is the one who sets it up; under Yosano’s watchful eye of course. Ranpo pokes fun at Poe when the man fails to stick him twice, feeling well enough to joke about being a pincushion instead of a patient, and Poe’s face flushes a brilliant red at his words.

Yosano smacks him—gently—over the head for that.

“The IV’s rigged up with painkillers to keep the pain manageable.” Yosano stresses out the word, looking Ranpo dead in the eyes, as if she thinks he’s going to be up and walking about anytime soon. “You’ll still feel pain, but it should be mild enough that you can move around so long as you’re careful. If the pain rises to the same level as it was last night, tell someone.”

“Otherwise…?”

“Otherwise, you’re free to annoy the hell out of Poe and Fukuzawa-san if that’s what you so desire.”

“Uh please don’t.”

Poe’s words go ignored. “Visitor’s?” Ranpo asks.

“Allowed with masks. Your immune system’s shot right now, so you’re vulnerable. Anything else?”

Ranpo has just one more question, but he knows if he asks it, it’ll get back to Fukuzawa and he doesn’t want that, so he shakes his head. He’ll try to sneak into his guardian’s office later when he thinks his legs will support him and find the bill that’ll tell him how much this home visit and treatment is going to cost.

“Alright then.” Yosano turns to Poe. “Check his vitals every hour, although you can move it to every two provided he doesn’t have any flare ups. Call me if you have any questions or concerns, although I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Poe gives a silent nod and Yosano leaves, not before messing with Ranpo’s hair though, and suddenly, it’s just him and Poe. Ranpo’s not sure how he feels about it.

“You don’t have to hang around me all day, just so you know.” Ranpo says as Poe continues to stand there, looking unsure of what to do with himself. Ranpo can see underneath the uncertainty the natural curiosity that comes from any new staff that’s assigned to his care and he sighs. “Or you can just ask the questions you want to ask.”

“I don’t have any questions.” Poe’s quick to say, although his ears turn pink as he lies, and he refuses to meet Ranpo’s eyes.

“Liar. You’re not the first one to have questions, so just ask. Unlike other people, I’m not going to bite your hand just for being curious.” Unless the person asking is rude, then Ranpo is going to absolutely make them regret ever being curious. But it’s only happened once, and the hospital is now a lot more careful in who they assign to him. Ranpo notices that Poe is still hesitating and pats the edge of his bed. “Sit.”

Poe does, lanky legs crossing over in just a few steps, and drops to the edge of the bed, and Ranpo’s only a little irked to see that they’re eye level when Poe’s sitting instead of towering over him. Now that he’s closer, Ranpo can visibly see the man thinking so he waits, patiently for a change instead of being demanding. Poe seems to speak more confidently when he’s given time; something Ranpo’s figured out just from the few conversations they’ve had.

“I don’t want to be rude—” Poe begins to say.

“You won’t be.”

“I don’t want to be rude.” Poe repeats, looking a little annoyed at Ranpo’s interruption. Ranpo grins at him. “But when we met, Yosano-sensei called you a ‘frequent flyer.’ She was pretty insistent that I meet you when you were admitted to hospital last time too…”

“I’ve been in and out of that hospital since I came to Yokohama a few years ago.” The only reason he’d even come to Yokohama in the first place was because his parents had grown tired of receiving no explanation for his frail body and had hoped the city would be different.

It hadn’t, and Ranpo had lost his parents as a result.

“Yosano-sensei’s been my doctor for… almost three years now, and she’s the only one that’s actually tried to help me—and actually succeeded sometimes. But she calls me a frequent flyer because I spend more time in hospital than out of it.”

“Hence why you didn’t want to go back last night.” Poe concludes all on his own, and Ranpo’s impressed by how fast he’s putting everything together.

“Yep. The first time we met was my seventh visit. I’d had two months of freedom before last night, and I just—I just wanted a little more time.”

“Are you dying?” Poe asks his next question, his tone shifting to one of sadness and… sympathy?

Ranpo fidgets with his blanket. Is he dying? Technically, the answer is no, otherwise he would’ve been dead long ago; before he’d ever come to Yokohama, but he knows just as well as everyone else in his life does, that he’s not going to live a long life. He’s impressed he’s even made it to sixteen. A long life is just not on the cards for him, and as sad as that makes Ranpo, he still plans on living life to the best of his ability. Who knows, he may get lucky and live until he’s fifty. Either way, he’s going to keep fighting until he physically can’t.

“Sorry, that was insensitive.” Poe’s voice breaks into his thoughts and Ranpo realizes he never answered the man.

“No, it’s not. Well maybe it is, I don’t know. I don’t think it is.” Ranpo says. “They say I’m not dying, that I’m just chronically ill. But sometimes… I would say it feels like I’m dying. So, yes? But also, no?”

Poe nods, because what else is he supposed to say? Eventually, he does find the words and lifts his head from where he dropped it to give Ranpo a smile. “Well, I hope you get to live a good life, Ranpo-san. However long it may be.”

Those aren’t the words Ranpo expects to hear, so for a moment, he sits there and just stares before his mind finally catches up and he smiles.

“Thank you.”

“You know, when I told you stay out of the hospital, that did include not bringing it into your home.” Dazai’s voice drags Ranpo of the light doze he’d just been in and he glowers at his friend as he stands in his doorway. Despite the mask on the boy’s face, he just knows there’s a mocking grin underneath it, and Ranpo glares before rolling over, fully intending on ignoring Dazai. “Hey! Don’t ignore me!”

“I don’t recall inviting you over.” Ranpo grumbled, grunting as Dazai flops onto the bed without a care in the world, the other boys head landing on his knees. He knows that if it weren’t for the painkillers running through his veins, that the added weight would be causing him a great deal of pain, but regrettably, his body barely reacts, although the discomfort is still enough for him to kick at Dazai until the boy shifts to lay beside him instead.

Another voice joins the room, one that Ranpo recognizes but has never actually interacted with, on account of Nakahara Chuuya working in a department of the hospital that he’s never required. The only reason they’ve ever met is because of Dazai. “That’s my fault, Edogawa-san. I saw Yosano-sensei at the hospital on her night off and asked why she was there, and she told me.”

“And you told Dazai?” Ranpo gives Nakahara a slightly betrayed look at the same time as Dazai whines and kicks his feet against the bed.

“Of course, the chibi told me. We’re friends after all.”

“Are we now?” Ranpo raises an eyebrow and slowly eases himself upright to lean against the headboard. “Why are you even here?”

“I messaged you and you did not answer.” Dazai says, voice serious for a change, and understanding dawns on Ranpo. Dazai had tried to check up on him, and when Ranpo had failed to respond, he’d probably thought that he’d died.

Ranpo stretches his hand out and rests it on top of Dazai’s head. “Sorry. I was sleeping.”

“You’re always sleeping.”

“I know.”

The sound of a throat clearing interrupts the solemn atmosphere and both Ranpo and Dazai look up at the noise. Poe’s standing in the doorway, dressed in casual clothes instead of his scrubs, with a tray in hand. In an instant, the tired look disappears from Dazai’s face and is replaced with absolute delight, and his friend disappears from Ranpo’s side, slinking up to Poe like a cat might. And Poe, despite being just taller than Dazai, shrinks in on himself and looks much smaller.

Nakahara sighs from where he’s sat in the corner of the room, but doesn’t do anything. He’s clearly waiting for Dazai to open his mouth first.

And Dazai does just that. “Why, Ranpo, you didn’t tell me you had your own, personal, nurse to take care of you. And not just any nurse, but Poe-san.”

Ranpo narrows his eyes, knowing that Dazai’s implying something, but unable to quite figure it out. But he’s able to gain some idea just based upon the fact that it’s something Dazai seemingly understands while Ranpo does not. Poe seems to understand as well, if the way his cheeks are starting to turn red is any indicator.

Dazai’s eyes crinkle at the reaction and he draws a breath in, about to say something else when—

“Dazai. Stop it.” Nakahara’s voice cuts in and Dazai freezes. There’s a tension in the room and a silent conversation begins, one that Ranpo has no hope of ever understanding, and decides to have mercy on Poe and waves the nurse over.

“Don’t mind, Dazai.” Ranpo says as Poe comes close. “He likes to push buttons.”

“It’s-It’s fine.” Poe says, placing the tray on the bedside table. He still looks flustered, and normally, Ranpo would tease him for it, but he keeps his mouth shut, not willing to upset the person that’s dutifully been taking care of him for the past few days.

“Did Fukuzawa send that up?” Ranpo asks, eyeing the food hungrily. Since Poe’s been here to watch over Ranpo, Fukuzawa’s been able to open the café, when usually he’d have closed it in order to take care of his ward. It hasn’t stopped the man from coming up every time he got a spare moment to check on Ranpo, usually bringing food or something entertaining with him, and keeping Ranpo company while he ate.

“He did. He also told me to say he’s sorry that he can’t be up here with you. There’s a rush downstairs.”

“Ah, it’s fine.” Ranpo carefully takes the bowl off the tray and rests it on his lap. It’s beef ramen; simple which is good, because food is always a hit or miss when he’s bedridden, but this particular meal has always been kind to him.

“There’s some for the two of you as well if you’d like.” Poe addresses Nakahara and Dazai, who finally stop silently arguing with each other.

Dazai doesn’t say anything as he approaches and takes one of the three other bowls before forcing Ranpo to move over and sitting beside him, looking just a little on edge. Ranpo nudges his leg against Dazai’s and waits for his friend to look at him before taking the first bite; he waits for Dazai to take a bite himself before he takes another.

He can feel Nakahara staring at him as the man eats his own bowl. Ranpo returns the stare with one of his own; they both know about Dazai’s issues with food. How could they not, when food is another way of staying alive, and Dazai wants nothing more than to die?

Ranpo can only manage half the bowl before his stomach begins protesting, and it’s then that he notices the fourth bowl is untouched, and that Poe’s not eating; instead curled up in the armchair that’s been dragged from the living room to Ranpo’s bedroom, and scribbling into his notebook. “Aren’t you going to eat, Poe-san?” Ranpo asks.

Poe glances up, and quickly looks back down at his notebook. “Ah, I’m not very hungry. Fukuzawa-san wouldn’t take no for an answer though…”

“That’s okay!” Dazai pipes up. “Chuuya’s here, he’ll eat what we don’t.”

“I’m not a garbage disposal, Dazai!” Chuuya snaps, even as he gets up to take Dazai’s bowl from him to eat what the boy has left behind.

“Your argument is invalid when you literally eat my scraps. What are you, some kind of dog worried about when it’s going to get its next meal?”

Nakahara’s eye twitches and he looks ready to strangle Dazai right there and then. “I can, and will, throw you out the window.”

“Oh, please do, maybe it’ll kill me and I can finally be free of your presence.” Dazai claps his hands together, positively thrilled at the idea of actually being hurled from the second story. “Hey, you know, if you are a dog, does that make me your owner?”

“Fuck no, if anything, I’m your owner, since I’m the one that has to babysit your scrawny ass twenty-four, seven!”

Ranpo watches, amused, as the two begin to banter back and forth. For as long as Ranpo’s known Dazai and Nakahara, he’d always thought that the two hated each other, brought together only because of Nakahara’s job, but over time he’s come to see their relationship for what it is; trust. He knows it’s much deeper than simple trust, that things have happened to bring two polar opposites so close together, but despite their friendship, Dazai is still a secretive person, and doesn’t share everything that happens in his life with Ranpo, and that’s just fine. He’ll be there if Dazai ever decides to share with him.

“Are they always like this…?” Poe asks him quietly.

“Yep. It’s best to just leave them be.” Ranpo turns away from his friend and looks at Poe. “You should read me that story you’ve been scribbling in that notebook of yours.”

To Poe’s credit, he only hesitates for a second before he nods and opens up the notebook. “It’s not finished yet.”

“That’s okay.”

Ranpo’s not supposed to be out of bed, but Poe had to leave for a reason he wouldn’t explain, and Fukuzawa hadn’t come upstairs to sit with him, so Ranpo had decided to go to him instead. It’s one of the day’s that the café is shut so he can’t think of a reason why Fukuzawa hadn’t yet come upstairs, but as he braves the stairs and moves down them, he can hear voices; three of them. Two he recognizes as Fukuzawa and Yosano’s, but the third is unfamiliar. The unfamiliar voice is the one that’s talking, and Ranpo is quick to decide that he doesn’t like how smooth that voice is, how manipulative it sounds, even though it’s hidden by faked concern. Ranpo reaches the bottom of the stairs, only slightly out of breathe, and he inches closer until he can hear the voices.

“—to care for the boy, Fukuzawa-san.” The stranger is saying, and Ranpo tries to figure out what it is that he’s missing.

He doesn’t need to wait long.

“I don’t need your money or your help, Mori-san. We’re doing just fine.” Fukuzawa is angry, and Ranpo can picture him sitting behind his desk, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He hasn’t seen Fukuzawa properly angry before, but he’s heard it and seen the aftermath. His guardian goes to great lengths to remain a calm and comforting presence around Ranpo.

“Oh, really?” The stranger’s—Mori’s—voice takes on a liquid tone; like that of a snake, and Ranpo frowns. What could this man want with Fukuzawa? “Seven hospital stays within six months? I know you’ve done well for yourself, old friend, but even that must be causing quite the strain on your wallet. Yosano-sensei agrees with me.”

Oh. They’re talking about me. Ranpo suddenly feels the urge to flee, even as he remains rooted to his spot outside the office.

“Don’t drag me into this, Mori.” Yosano’s voice is tense, as if being in the same room as this Mori person is physically painful for her. “I’m here to help both Ranpo and Fukuzawa-san.”

“Is that not what I’m doing?” The question is innocent and confused, but it’s all so fake.

“If you were actually a doctor that cared, you wouldn’t be here trying to force Fukuzawa-san to accept money he does not want. You don’t even know the boy.” Yosano spits out.

“Money he may not want, but it’s money he does need. And I know enough about the boy; what doctor doesn’t? It’s not like his medical records are private.”

“Doesn’t mean you should go snooping where you aren’t welcome.”

Mori brushes Yosano’s words aside like he never heard them in the first place. “Chronically ill with an unknown disease; prone to all kinds of infections and illnesses; suffers from chronic pain and fatigue. Migraines. Frequently requires hospitalization, which has steadily increased year by year, with this year holding the record at seven, although he’s yet to have required surgery this year; a small mercy, really.” The man pauses. “Need I go on?”

Silence follows his words before Fukuzawa’s words break the silence, a quiet fury weaved into every word. “Get out, Mori-san. You are not his doctor, and have no right to be here.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave.” Ranpo hears someone stand from within the office and footsteps approach the door. He freezes as the door opens and his eyes meet that of a man he’s never seen before in his life, and Ranpo thinks he was right in thinking this man was not to be trusted; he looks every bit as heartless as he’d sounded. Mori grins upon seeing Ranpo and calls into the room. “I’m sure you’ll change your tune soon, Fukuzawa-san, when you finally realize that if you don’t accept the money, Ranpo-san will die.”

And with that the man is gone, leaving after ruining the day for the three people left inside the building. The bell on the door chimes as he leaves, and Ranpo allows himself to slide down the wall, burying his face into his knees and hugging them close. He must make more noise than he’d thought he had, because he hears footsteps approach and Yosano’s soft voice is speaking to him. “Ranpo? What are you doing?”

“Fukuzawa was taking too long.” Ranpo speaks into his knees. “Who was that?”

“No one you need to concern yourself with.” Fukuzawa comes to kneel beside Ranpo, a hand coming to tilt his head up. “I apologize for taking so long. Yosano-sensei arrived and wanted to speak with me when he showed up.”

“It’s fine.” Ranpo reaches up and wraps his arms around Fukuzawa’s neck, his silent request answered when Fukuzawa picks him up like he weighs nothing at all; which isn’t too far from the truth considering recent events, and probably future ones as well. Fukuzawa carries him back up the stairs and deposits Ranpo back into his bed.

Yosano follows them up the stairs; probably to see how he’s recovering—which is going quite well if Ranpo’s being honest with himself. The pain is all but gone, more of a dull, consistent ache, than the sharp pains he’d been having the past week. All that really remains to remind him of that agony filled night, is the exhaustion that refuses to leave him be.

“Mori has a point, Fukuzawa-san.” Yosano says suddenly, quickly continuing when Fukuzawa tenses from where he sits beside Ranpo. “About only one thing, and it’s not the money. Nor is it the idea that you aren’t doing enough.”

Fukuzawa narrows his eyes. “What is it?”

“He’s right in that Ranpo is getting worse. His body’s not coping with how sick he’s been, and you and I both know that this year has been exceptionally bad for him.”

Ranpo can’t help but flinch at the words, despite how true they are. It’s not like he asked for this though; to be born with an illness determined to make him suffer rather than be kind and just outright kill him. He can also hear the hidden words that Yosano doesn’t say, but is definitely thinking; that the years been bad on Fukuzawa as well; the stress of caring for an ailing teenager and running a café all on his own easily tipping into overwhelming territory.

He doesn’t say anything though; doesn’t know what to say other than ‘I’m sorry.’

“It’s chronic illness, Yosano-sensei. There’s no cure, only management. You told me as such when you took on Ranpo’s case.”

“What if there was? Not a cure, because you are right about that, but a solution that would help Ranpo actually be able to live? To make it to adulthood; perhaps further?”

Both Fukuzawa and Ranpo stare at Yosano, silently urging her to continue.

“I’ve been talking with the research department, and other doctors all over the world that deal with patients that are similar to Ranpo’s case. We’ve been spending these past months working together to come up with an experimental drug that we’re hoping to use to ease the suffering of those with chronic illnesses; regardless of what they are.” Yosano kneels beside the bed. “We’ve been given approval to test the drug out. If you’ll allow me to, I can pitch Ranpo as a candidate.”

“No.” Ranpo speaks before he truly understands what’s being offered to him. But when his thoughts catch up, he still thinks he’s right in declining. It’s not the idea of being used as a test subject for an experimental drug that may or may not work that he’s caught up on, but the implications of what being a part of such a study entails. It’ll mean staying at the hospital for god knows how long, being under the scrutiny of more doctors than he’s comfortable with—although he thinks he could handle it if he really had to, but that’s not the point.

The point is money.

He’s already put enough debt and stress onto Fukuzawa’s shoulders in the past two years, and he refuses to add anymore to them. He doesn’t care if that means he has to suffer until his body stops functioning; just so long as Fukuzawa doesn’t have to spend anymore money he doesn’t have. Ranpo realizes that Fukuzawa’s looking down at him and Yosano’s looking up at him, and he feels cornered. He doesn’t want to explain himself, but he feels if he doesn’t, they’ll both push him until he does.

“It’ll be expensive.” Ranpo finally mutters, and tries not to flinch at the sigh Fukuzawa lets out.

“Money’s not a problem.” Fukuzawa says.

“Yes it is. That Mori guy was saying so, and I’ve seen the bills on your desk.” Ranpo argues, looking up at his guardian with tears in his eyes. Fukuzawa’s gaze softens. “I’ve already taken so much from you. I don’t want to take anymore.”

“When I took you in, I will admit I was ill-prepared. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. But,” Fukuzawa carefully brushes away a stray tear that escapes. “I promised to take care of you, no matter how hard it got, and that’s not going to change. This experimental treatment may cost a lot of money, but it’ll be money well spent if it means I get to see you live.”

Ranpo lets out a sob then, and he’s quickly manhandled into a firm hug, not hard enough to hurt him, but more than enough to let him feel loved. His cries grow louder as his dam breaks and all the stress he’d been bottling away inside himself overflows. Fukuzawa’s words make him remember the reason why he’s been fighting against the illness that’s been eroding at him for so long; why he hasn’t given up on living, even when he’s reminded of how quickly his life could be snatched from him.

“Promise me, Ranpo, that you won’t give up, no matter what.” His mother whispers into his hair as he lays in the bed. “Don’t you ever stop fighting. Don’t let the sickness win. Live. Live and keep on living. You are more than this illness, my sweet boy. If anyone can win, it’s you.”

“I… promise.”

“I want to live.” Ranpo says, one hand reaching up to wipe away his tears. He looks towards Yosano. “I want to live.”

Yosano smiles at him, still crouched. “I know you do. Leave it to me, and I promise that you’ll get your chance to live.”

#bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs fanfic #ranpo edogawa #edgar allan poe #ranpoe #fukuzawa yukichi #bsd yosano #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #hurt/comfort #modern au #writing #fanfic #slow burn

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the-garbage-will-do-1138 · 1 year ago

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Another year gone

Tomorrow is a new year and I guess it’s my duty to give a life update so, here it goes.

January: I realized that the company I was working for was not one I wanted to stick with once I found out they had lied about the benefits package.

February: Taylor and I saw Footloose: The Musical at Beef & Boards

March: I celebrated my 30th birthday and it was a lot less terrifying than I thought it was gonna be.

April: Taylor and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary by driving to Cincinnati to see Lewis Capaldi in concert. It was such a good show and we were lucky to see him when we did. This turned out to be one of his last shows because of his medical issues making it more difficult for him to continue touring.

May: We celebrated Taylor’s 27th birthday

June: We just worked a lot.

July: We saw Taylor Swift in Cincinnati with some friends. It was an incredible experience that I’ll never forget.

Taylor’s dad passed away mid-July

The Barbie movie came out and is now one of my favorite movies I’ve ever seen

I was cast in and started rehearsal for my first Shakespeare play, Love’s Labour’s Lost, as Boyet.

August: We saw five different bands play in August. Amon Amarth, a Viking metal band opened for Ghost at the TCU Amphitheater and we were able to get barrier in the pit. Insane show where Taylor and I both got really sunburnt and heat sick but it was worth it. Two days later we drove back to Indy to the Ruoff Music Center and saw three bands I’ve loved since I was a teenager, Simple Plan, Sum 41, and The Offspring. Yet another incredible show. To finish out the month, Taylor and I were both cast in Creative Arts Councils production of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” It was Taylor’s first time ever acting in a play and I was really proud of her for stepping out of her comfort zone.

September: I performed in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” with Parlor City Shakespeare Company. We had three different performances and they all had a really good turnout. Right after finishing Shakespeare, rehearsals for Sleepy Hollow started.

We had another concert scheduled for the 22nd but Taylor wasn’t feeling well so we sold the tickets and stayed home. Then, September 26th happened. The most important day of my life was just a normal Tuesday for everybody else. While at work, Taylor still wasn’t feeling well and decided to take a pregnancy test during our lunch break. The results were literally instant and something we had tried for 5+ years and actually given up on had happened. Taylor was pregnant! (We didn’t go back to work that day)

October: My employer informed me that the company doesn’t give out raises so I tripled my efforts to find a new job.

We went to our first ultrasound and the baby looked like a seahorse. The pregnancy was confirmed by several doctors and it became very real.

We went to Beef & Boards again, this time joined by Bart, and saw “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.” I’ve seen dozens of shows by them and this was one of the best.

The last weekend of the month we had four performances of Sleepy Hollow and Taylor became a thespian

We officially announced the pregnancy to the world.

I took my one week of vacation and started a new job with actual benefits and a $3 pay raise. I never came back from my vacation. I texted my resignation to my boss because that was the level of respect they had earned from me and his response was “Good deal.” Good riddance.

November: November was spent with me getting the hang of my new job. I also cooked a 22lb Turkey for thanksgiving and it only took 6 hours and two mental break downs but it sure tasted good.

December: Had a work Christmas party and actually got enough (paid) time off to make this holiday season memorable. Our last Christmas as a family of two was one of our best.

All in all, 2023 has been one of the best years of my life. I’m still broke but it’s slowly getting better. I love my new job because I’m respected and I actually matter. I love my wife and family and am so excited to welcome our baby in May of 2024. If this is what life in your 30s is like, I’m glad to be out of my 20s. It gets better and I’m glad I’m here to experience it!

#happy new year #2024 #it gets better

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bloodieash · 1 year ago

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“Come in.” Magnus called when he heard a knock on his apartment door. He wasn’t expecting anyone which just meant it could have been literally anyone. But Magnus grinned when a familiar red head poked her head in. “Madeline. To what do I owe this surprise?”

Maddie only shook her head as she fully entered the apartment, bottom lip caught between her teeth. She crossed her arms and focused on Magnus.

Magnus was used to being under scrutiny, especially shadowhunter scrutiny, but this felt different. Important.

He knew Maddie looked up to him, and had since he’d taken her under his wing to teach her magic. But this didn’t feel like his protegee staring him down.

“You and Alec have a date night tonight right?”

Tension filled Magnus.

“Yes, is there a problem with that?”

Maddie had never given an inclination that she had a problem with his and Alexander’s relationship before.

“No. No.” Maddie quickly waved Magnus’s concerns and some of the tension left him. “No.” She repeated with another shake of her head. “I was just wondering...” She trailed off. Her eyes darted around for a moment before finding Magnus again. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and gave a sharp nod. “I was wondering if there was any way I could borrow your apartment for a surprise for Z tonight. Just something nice for you two to come home to.”

Magnus knew half of what Maddie said was in what she didn’t say, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what she was leaving out. Still, she looked up to him and he knew she would put herself into harm's way before she endangered Alexander so he couldn’t think of a reason she couldn’t borrow the apartment.

“How involved is this surprise?” He didn't want Maddie throwing a party without him, though he doubted Alexander would see that as a nice surprise.

Maddie frowned before she pursed her lips. “Not very...” She trailed off again and shook her head. “Let’s just say if you tell Z about it he’ll figure it out long before you will.”

And the last of the tension Magnus was holding slipped away from him. If Alexander could figure out what Maddie was planning with what limited information she’d passed along to Magnus then it was most likely related to some tradition they had established long before Magnus was in the picture.

“I don’t see why not as long as you promise to clean up afterwards.”

Maddie laughed. “Oh yeah, set up and clean up are absolutely included in the surprise.”

For some reason that made Magnus nervous.

Five hours later Magnus’s nerves were mostly forgotten, though they came roaring to the forefront as he stood in front of his door with Alexander.

“Magnus? Are you okay?” Alexander asked.

Magnus nodded. “Madeline stopped by earlier and asked if she could borrow the apartment. Said it would be a surprise for us to come home to.”

Alexander frowned before checking his phone. Whatever he saw made a bright smile break out on his face. He opened the door without preamble and entered the apartment, Magnus quick on his heels.

Standing in the middle of Magnus’s living room, surrounded by a large pile of pillows and blankets was Alexander’s family; Jace, Isabelle, Maddie, and Elle. Suspended by magic over their heads were five medium sized hooks in a circle.

“Are you sure?” Alexander asked, his smile no smaller, but a little more nervous around the edges.

“Well between Valentine and Aldertree it’s not like we’ve had the chance to do this in awhile.” Isabelle started.

“And the Institute hasn’t felt particularly safe since them either.” Elle picked up.

Maddie met Alexander’s eyes. “If you’re sure Z, so are we.”

Alexander crossed the room quickly and pulled the three girls into a tight hug. Jace grinned at them before turning to face Magnus who still wasn’t a hundred percent sure what was going on.

Jace nodded to himself and pulled a hunter green sheet out of the pile. He passed the sheet to Magnus before pulling another one out, this one must have once been white, but now had pink splotches dotted across it as though it had been washed with something red.

“Hang this on one of the hooks. But no magic.”

“Oh come on he’s tall enough he can do it without even thinking the word magic.” Elle teased when the others broke their hug. She shot a grin at Maddie that had Maddie sticking her tongue out at Elle.

“Yeah yeah I get it I’m short.” Maddie moved over to where Jace was hanging up his sheet.

Confused Magnus followed suit. Alexander moved closer to help him. While Isabelle and Elle picked up their own sheets.

Alexander chuckled. “When Maddie first moved to the Institute she couldn’t sleep.” He started. He pulled a thick comforter out of the pile and spread it under the open cone the sheet created once it was hanging from the hook. “The only way she could, is if she had someone with her.”

“And we were all more than happy to help her out. Even if Alec was a bit reluctant at first.” Isabelle continued. She held up two pillows for Elle to judge. Elle took a moment before she picked the fluffy bright red heart. Isabelle tossed the heart into her cone before throwing the other at Alexander’s back. Jace quickly snatched it out of the air.

“Of course once Elle and Maddie decided they were going to be parabatai Maddie started only sleeping with Elle.” Isabelle continued. She picked up a regular pillow in a blood red case that matched her sheet cone.

“And Jace the jealous ass couldn’t handle that.” Elle giggled, ignoring the dirty look Jace shot her.

“Hang on.” Maddie laughed, green eyes sparking. “This is so not how I remember the story going.”

“Really?” Alexander teased. He grabbed the throw pillow Maddie was holding out to him. “Seems pretty accurate to me.”

Maddie gaped at Alexander but in the same moment grabbed another to whack across Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander narrowed his eyes before lunging forward. He dug his fingers into Maddie’s sides and tickled her mercilessly.

“I yield. I yield!” Maddie screeched between giggles.

Alexander laughed. He dropped a kiss to the top of Maddie’s head before moving back to help Magnus.

“Anyway,” Jace said with a shake of his head. “We all came to a compromise between Maddie’s need for a sleep buddy and the frankly terrifying gossip group of Alec, Maddie, and Elle.” Jace looked at Magnus when he emphasized the terrifying.

Elle rolled her eyes. “Once a month we’d meet in the Institute library for a slumber party.” She seemed to deem the cone she was working on with Isabelle, despite the completely untouched one right next to it, done and slipped inside. Isabelle followed her.

“It took a while to work out the logistics, but once we did....” Isabelle grinned as she wiggled into a more comfortable position. “It became a family tradition.”

#ocappreciation #Maddie Foxblood #Elle Ravencross #shadowhunters oc

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s-the-seething-songbird-2 · 1 year ago

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Logs for Thomas, Part 2: #4

Song stuck in my head: "Be Alright" by Dean Lewis

I woke up this morning with a terrible amount of anxiety in my gut. For most of today, I've just felt upset, scared, and a little nauseous.

Then, a little bit before writing this, I realized that today is the day we confessed our love for each other exactly five years ago. November 14th.

It's crazy to think about. I know how long ago it was. Ages have passed, and my life is so different now. Apparently, my body doesn't care.

It was so scary, and so wonderful, and I had... such high hopes for what would come after.

It literally could not have ended worse XD

Before I even realized the date, I also couldn't stop mulling over memories of that whole mess. I thought maybe I was just having a Bad Brain Day--and truth be told, that could still be the case; maybe the date is just a coincidence--but the date explains a lot. This has happened to me every year since then. November 14th is a rough day for me, as is December 23rd. The latter is significantly worse, at least, so I have that going for me (until then).

God, I hate the holidays.

I don't hate you, if that wasn't already clear. I never did. I can't.

I've been thinking about everything that went down with Shay this year. The idea of you hating me just doesn't match up with things you've said in the past. Then again, there are many things you've said that contradict with the things you've done.

But maybe thinking about it over and over is just going to drive me crazy.

It hurts, Thomas. I'm so hurt. I'm so hurt, and confused, and there's so much I would give just to talk to you again. Yes, nonplatonic things happened between us, obviously, but what I'm most upset about is that I've lost a friend, someone who was there for me for years and years.

Even back when I was in high school, when you'd call me stupid, insult my (former) religion, or make fun of my appearance, there was always a part of me that wanted, needed, you to like me, to be proud of me.

You said you were... You said you were proud of me. How can you be proud of me and hate me at the same time?

I know that, tomorrow, a lot of these feelings will dip back under the surface, and I'll be able to feel normal again, but waiting for those hours and minutes to tick is maddening.

One moment--I'm cooking d*nner, and I have to strain the p*sta.

Okay, I'm back!

Sorry, I know it seems silly to censor those words, but based on what Shay--and you, come to think of it--have said about y'alls sensitivities about f*od, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

Also, the weirdest thing happened to me a few minutes ago. I had already opened a can of p*sta sa*ce to add to the sp*ghett* literally moments before, but after writing one of these paragraphs and returning to what I was doing with dinner, I... completely forgot how to use the can opener?

Warning, boring rambling ahead. Skip to the blue asterisk to bypass.

Thomas, I've been using manual can-openers for years, especially more recently, since I've agreed to cook for my partners and their kids two nights out of every week (my girlfriend was overexerting herself both at work and at home, so we came to a consensus so she's less stressed out). But all of a sudden, it was really hard to twist the thingy correctly, and the lid wouldn't budge, save for a few dents in the can. And then I realized I was holding it upside-down. Except, I wasn't, because I tried it the other way, and that didn't work either.

I paced around the kitchen and got very irritated, wondering what the hell was going on.

Then, after taking some deep breaths, I tried again, and... I did it?

Look, I'm used to forgetting a variety of things--trauma does that--but this seemed excessive, even for me.

I got really freaked out for a minute or two because one of my biggest fears is developing early-onset Alzheimer's/dementia/etc., but I still had to finish making d*nner, so I put that thought on the backburner for a bit and finished what I was doing.

But then I noticed something else: I left a mess. I may not be the most organized person in the world, but this was on another level. I could barely even pour the strained n*odles back into the pot, so 1/3 of it was just strewn out on the stove, like a fresco of shitty m*c*roni art. And that doesn't even mentioned the sauce splatters all over the counter, among other things. I was even having trouble opening the can of br*sch*tta s*as*ning, and it's literally just a matter of opening the right side of the lid, which I did incorrectly several times.

Then, I wanted to clean everything up before setting the table, but I just... didn't have it in me? Every time I've made d*nner since I agreed to this deal, I've cleaned up after myself. Every time.

How did I forget all of these adult responsibilities so quickly? It was just, like,,, POOF, gone.

*And then I realized that these were all problems I used to have back in 2018, around the same time the affair started, when I was (bodily) 17 and just starting to learn how to cook.

So... it would appear that these mental/emotional flashbacks haven't stopped yet. -_-

That was frustrating--and unnerving. But I suppose this is further confirmation that our brain is still really fucked up over the whole thing.

I'll be alright, I promise.

Shit, I have to go now

-S

#logs for thomas #11/14/23

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sortagaysortahigh · 2 years ago

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Sex Education P.3 | Steve Harrington

a/n: yall posting this shit was the most annoying experience ever and tumblr and I have genuine beef, but its okay because hopefully she’ll post <3. Also I decided that this series is going to be 5 parts, and this is the longest part thus far because it’s the “turning point” in the series :)

Summary: No one ever assumes they’d develop feelings for their childhood best friend who also happened to be their friend with benefits, nor do they expect to end up jealous over mindless flirting.

Warnings: SMUT, cussing, spelling and grammar errors, talks about kinks, mentions of: bondage, handcuffs, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, and gagging, actual P in V unprotected smut, creampie, rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral (f receiving, m giving), spitting, hair pulling, back shots, missionary, jealous sex, degradation, praise kinks, choking, overstimulation, Dom!Steve, Sub!(ish)Reader

Word Count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

(I just really like this gif honestly, like it gives bestfriend steve vibes)

Friday came faster than expected, and of course, something had to go wrong the day of Y/n’s big exam. She’d made it to the college early-leaving thirty minutes prior to when she usually left. The forty-five minute drive filled with her loud sing-a-long to Blondie’s The Hunter album as she sped down the highway. Then she got to school, parking outside of her academic building then rushing inside-hoping to get some kind of last minute cramming in as she found herself running up two flights of steps-anxiety fueling her swift steps.

By the time she’d sat in her usual classroom she was slightly out of breath, opting to sit in the front row to the left side of the room. Immediately going through her bag-then realizing that the flashcards Steve helped her make-flashcards which included important vocabulary, structures, authors, and anything else she found essential from the past half-semester-were still sitting at home on her nightstand-right next to a sleeping Steve Harrington.

The same Steve Harrington that had spent the past two days at her house, granted the two went to work together yesterday-then he found himself back at her house, helping her study until he decided that she deserved some ‘stress relief’ which in turn led to his head between her thighs for nearly two hours. Her thighs and calves were still store from the feeling of both curling her toes constantly and Steve holding her in place while she begged and whined for more.

She was currently in a state of panic, looking down at his watch that he insisted she take for good luck today-seeing that she had twenty minutes before the class started-then she rushed out, finding the nearest phone and dialing her home number-praying Steve would answer.

“Hello?” She tried to ignore the deep rasp in his voice-he was clearly still sleeping-but it still sent a small shiver down her spine. It’s been happening a lot lately, he’d say things or give her certain looks and they’d somehow make her heart race. But now wasn’t a time to focus on whatever that meant.

“Steve! I left the stupid flashcards there and I’m taking this test in-” she glanced down at the watch “-in seventeen minutes and I’m literally about to vomit because I was gonna try and cram before but now I don’t even know what I’m gonna do or if I’m gonna pass-this class literally determines if I have to extend or not because the class I’m taking next semester is only offered in the spring and this midterm is worth more of my grade than the final which is total bullshit but holy shit-”

As she rambled Steve sat up in her bed-phone in his right hand held up to his face while he ran a hand through his hair-the comforter now sinking past his bare chest to his waist.

“Y/n! Y/n!” the silence on the other end of the line caused him to let out a sigh of relief “you’re gonna do great okay? You know everything from this class-you need to stop doubting yourself. Cramming was never going to help you because it doesn’t ever work for you-it hasn’t worked since like freshman year of high school. You need to take a deep breath-” he paused for a second-his gaze now focused on her messy desk-alongside the few photos pinned to her corkboard above it-a small smile on his face when he spotted a photo strip of the two of them from the fair in tenth grade.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wall next to the phone-a hand on her forehead-thumb and index finger massaging her temples while she stared at the ceiling.

“This is a big deal Steve-I can’t just relax-I’m like a ball of anxiety and nerves and-” he cut her off mid-sentence “-and nothing. It’s okay to be nervous about your exam but you can’t dwell on something like flashcards-you’ve been studying for this for like two weeks-you color coded all of your textbooks and notes Y/n-you know everything already-you’re overthinking it”

She groaned, and on the other end of the phone Steve smiled, shaking his head while rolling his eyes-she’d always done this. Everytime a big test was coming up she’d panic about it and rush to sit and study until there was nothing left-then she’d panic more until the day of the test when she usually aced it-occasionally getting a B-but even then she’d never failed.

That was something he admired about Y/n, she’d go through hell and back if it meant being successful-and her version of success was always her own. She never compared her successes to other people’s because as she always said ‘Steve success isn’t measured by other assholes-it’s measured by you. How the hell are you supposed to be your dad’s version of successful when you don’t even like your dad-you’ll never live up to whatever he wants you to be because that’s not what you wanna be’.

He found himself biting his bottom lip and smiling while she spoke to him.

“Okay-sure you’re right I might be overthinking it-but this shit is genuinely so stressful and what if my professor thinks my answers sound stupid? Then what? I can’t sit here and look stupid-God I’m gonna barf” he laughed at her, all the while she groaned again, staring down at his watch, seventeen minutes turned into ten and now she was biting her thumb nail-the leather band slightly slipping along her wrist.

“You won’t sound stupid, now go drink some water and kick your tests ass.” she sighed “if you say so Harrington” he nodded his head-the same dopey smile on his face “what time are you coming home?”

His words made her smile, both eyebrows raised and she was positive if she’d been anywhere but here-or even if she was sitting down-she’d be kicking her feet back and forth. She felt like a thirteen year old getting called pretty by a boy for the first time.

“Home? So now you live with me?” he scoffed, of course she couldn’t see the blush on his face-thankfully “I mean this is your house isn’t it-and considering your parents don’t get back til Monday-I’ll stick around. Besides it’s better than Casa Harrington-home of the assholes”

She smiled, nodding her head while twirling the metallic curly phone cable in her hand “Guess you aren't asshole after all. Anyways, my class ends in two hours-then I’m meeting with my advisor so like another half hour-plus the drive back home-basically three or four hours”

“You’re gonna crush your test, now hang up the phone Y/l/n” she scoffed, holding in a giggle-who the hell was she becoming. “Uh huh Harrington, I’ll see you when I get back” she bit her bottom lip “Drive safe baby, bye” with that the two hung up the phone. She couldn’t stop the heat enveloping her features at the pet name-of course she was used to it when they had sex-but outside of that-he’d never really casually called her that. But it made her heart race and she couldn’t stop her smile as she walked back to her classroom.

Steve however hung up the phone then groaned-two hands covering his face at the realization that he’d let the ‘baby’ slip out. Of course he started to overthink it the second he said it-mostly because she had no reaction to it-and of course it wasn’t like he could see her through the phone. Hopefully in the future they’d invent video calls or something for people.

He laid back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling decorated in small stars-the same stars he’d called childish the first time he’d gone over to her house when they were twelve. His parents had been late picking him up from swim practice-of course he said he’d just take the bus home or figure something out-but her mother insisted he came over and she’d call his parents for him.

By the time he got to their house he’d realized two things-Y/n’s mom was a lot cooler than he’d thought-granted she always showed up on time for practices, never missed a meet, and of course encouraged her daughter to speak her mind-which in turn led to a few altercations with other teams during the season. However she was genuinely nice to him and even as she drove-she still listened to him as he spoke-occasionally making eye contact through the rear view mirror and nodding her head.

The second thing he realized was that Y/n was really pretty-he’d never really gotten to see her sit in silence and just listen before that point-and as the golden hues from the sun outside hit her skin while she sat in the back seat with Steve-he found himself staring at her-the two holding eye contact while he spoke. He just assumed she’d always been confident in herself and a good listener based on the way she looked so relaxed and invested in his story-but even as a twelve year old she made him blush.

When they got to the house her mother called his mother’s office-leaving a message with their home address alongside the fact that Steve was there hanging out with Y/n and staying for dinner. She was quick to drag Steve down the hall to her room, forcing him to sit on her bed while she blow dried his hair-which she’d been wanting to do for some time-he even argued with her before she started. However, at the mention of Y/n’s mother making him dinner-he agreed.

Even at twelve he had great hair, his father always forcing the need to look presentable down his throat. She stood on her knees behind him-the bright pink blow drier in her right hand while she ran her left hand through his hair as she dried it-giggling at the way he protested. Then as she finished and turned off the blow dryer he laid back-purposefully pushing her backwards-nearly knocking her off the bed-which only made the both of them burst into laughter.

“Are you afraid of the dark? What's up with the baby stickers” she scoffed, sitting up and shoving him over while rolling her eyes “oh shut it poodle” with that she stood up, grabbing a compact off of her dresser-throwing it at him with a smirk on her face-which in turn led to his jaw dropping as he stared at his reflection-his hair overly voluminous and framing his head like a bad bowl cut.

The memory made Steve smile, eyes tracing each star formation-after she’d shoved him she eventually told him that she’d placed them in the shape of constellations-showing all of them to him before her mother called the two for dinner. That was the day he realized that he wanted to be her friend for a long time. She was caring, smart, she was honest-overly honest sometimes, she definitely had a nerdy side to her, her family genuinely cared for him, and she was the only person he knew he could be himself around.

After that day he started coming around more and more, her mother offering him rides home sometimes-the first time he slept over was during their eighth grade school year. The two had to do their science fair project together and once it hit nine o’clock her mother insisted he just spent the night-so he did. The both of them eventually fell asleep on the living room sofa after watching Star Trek-which Y/n had to explain to him.

He had no idea why he was reminiscing about their friendship-he also had no idea why calling her baby just felt right-granted when they had sex he knew she liked the pet names-a smile on her face while she bit her lip-the thought made his cock stir which only led to him groaning again. He’s her best friend, granted their relationship was starting to shift-he knew it was there and maybe she just didn’t notice it-or maybe she didn’t care-but there was something different now.

At first he summed it up to ‘well she’s seen my dick and I’ve fucked her so that must be it’ but the more he thought about it-the more he realized this wasn’t just about sex-actually it wasn’t about sex at all. She made his heart race in ways it hadn’t before-well ways it hadn’t in a long time.

He admittedly had a crush on her when they were in middle school, of course by freshman year he claimed it was gone-and then as he rose up the ranks in popularity because of sports-he dragged her along with him. Then by their junior year he was King Steve-he could get with any girl he wanted-so the crush on Y/n was long forgotten. She still argued with him in the hallways, constantly cursing him out and telling him to ‘humble yourself Harrington! High Schools not the real world jackass!.

She always stuck around though, she was there during his first genuine heartbreak-when Nancy Wheeler cheated on him after telling him she didn’t love him. He was at the Y/l/n household crying-which he would never tell anyone else about-and Y/n was holding him-rubbing circles into his back while making small sarcastic jokes and remarks to cheer him up.

Ironically that’s around the time that a very broken and bloody Steve later showed up at her doorstep surrounded by Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, and Lucas Sinclair-kids she thought he was babysitting-and as she was patching Steve up they all explained everything.

Of course the girl didn’t believe them-even when Steve told her that it was all true she simply scoffed and mumbled something along the lines of ‘Hargrove really beat the shit out of you huh?’ However, when they all took her to meet El a few days later-the girl with supposed ‘super powers’ and after seeing Nancy’s tape-she quickly learned that they were all telling the truth. The entire drive back to her house she kept rambling to Steve and asking him questions even he couldn’t answer.

She always did that, the girl had little to no filter-so anything that came to mind would be said. If it was a question, a comment, a concern, a rude statement, or an obnoxious opinion-she’d let it be heard. A lot of people hated that about her-it was the reason she’d gotten into so many arguments with Carol Perkins, always telling the girl that she was ‘an airhead with Daddy’s money’ alongside comments like ‘don’t be upset because you didn’t make the cheer squad Carol, I’m sure you can shake your ass for some dumb jock and he’ll pay attention to you’.

Yeah, she was brutal. But he loved that about her.

Then it all dawned upon him-he had a thing for his best friend-of course it broke the final rule of their ‘contract’ but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. As he stared at her ceiling he decided he’d just ignore it, hoping that things would be fine between the two-and that she wouldn’t catch on.

He spent the next few hours getting ready to face her-hell he’d even cleaned her room and did her laundry-blushing as he fumbled her panties into the washer and dryer, then he all but moaned at the sight of her vibrator in the back of her panty drawer-a rosy blush overtaking his features while he stared at the baby blue bullet-then at the sound of a car pulling up and parking he slammed the drawer shut-fumbling to fold the rest of her clothes.

She whistled as she walked into the house, a triumphant smile on her face because not only did she complete her exam early-her professor spoke to her after she’d turned it in-stating that she had the highest grade in the class. Then she met with her advisor who said she was on track to graduate a semester early-and traffic on the way home wasn’t bad whatsoever.

He walked out of her room, standing in the hallway with a clean shirt thrown over his shoulder while he held her basket-once she glanced at him she couldn’t stop the laugh.

“You look so domestic Stevie-it’s adorable. You’re just missing your six kids” he scoffed at that, rolling his eyes while walking back into her room once he realized she was heading in that direction.

“For your information-I got bored” she nodded her head as she placed her backpack onto her desk chair-glancing around at the now neatly organized room-her bed was even made-Blueberry sat in the very front. “So you cleaned my room? And did my laundry? Are you pursuing a career in housekeeping?” He rolled his eyes at her, watching as she pulled out the notebook their ‘contract’ was written in-followed by her pink pen.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something serious though” he nodded his head slowly, taking her folded shirt off his shoulder-tossing it in the basket before placing it on the floor then sitting down. His eyes never left her as she kicked her shoes off then sat on the bed criss-crossed across from him. She then turned the pages to the back of their contract page, placing the notebook on one of her knees as she uncapped the pen-his gaze shifting to her bare legs-spotting the bite mark on her right inner thigh from last night-he tried to hold in a groan at the way her skirt rode up.

“You look nervous-loosen up Harrington it’s not like I’m breaking up with you” he scoffed, craning his neck back slightly “as if you’d ever want to break up with me” she glanced up at him, brows raised “aren’t you just a catch” then the two started laughing at one another, Y/n reaching over and shoving him lightly before focusing on the notebook.

He watched as she wrote out ‘Kinks’ then two categories titled ‘Y/n’ and ‘Steve’, he blinked a few times, clearing his throat while licking his lips, catching her attention again.

“Steve-if we’re actually gonna do the whole ‘trying new things out’ part of this then we have to talk about everything prior to y’know having sex” he nodded his head, scratching the back of his neck-visibly tensing up at her words. “Can you stop overthinking for five seconds Harrington! You look so stiff, relax”

“That’s easy for you to say-you’re you!” she scoffed “and what’s that supposed to mean Steve?” he shrugged “this doesn’t bother you-like you don’t have any reactions to us having sex-or like changes or anything” she placed the notebook to the side, getting on her knees and practically waddling towards steve before grabbing his face in both of her hands-his lips parted while he stared at her in awe.

“Just because I don’t act like weird or whatever because we have sex doesn’t mean I don’t have any reactions or whatever to it Steve-I clearly understand that our friendship is gonna slightly change because of the sex-you’re still my best friend jackass” she spoke slightly slower than usual, eyes widening just the smallest bit to emphasize her point while she held eye contact with him. “Now stop being a weirdo so we can talk about our kinks mister I wanna do anal”

He blinked a few times, shoving her back slightly-causing her to let out a small ‘yelp’ as she fell backwards-her body hitting the mattress and a series of loud laughs and giggles left her lips as her head slightly hung off the bed. She was thankful that she had a Queen sized bed-otherwise even at the diagonal angle she was in-she’d probably fallen off the bed.

He was blushing, his entire neck was on fire-and he was blushing the same way that Dustin used to blush when Y/n would talk to him-the boys crush on Y/n was almost adorable, but eventually he told Steve that he’d gotten over ‘his girl’-which of course had Steve questioning everything the younger boy was saying in the moment-however now when he thought about it he knew that Y/n was inevitably going to look like his girl to everyone who didn’t understand their friendship.

But he liked that, he wanted her to be his girl-but that wasn’t happening any time soon, so instead of sitting like a statue he moved-placing his hands on her knees which were nearly eye level with him-then he parted her legs-looking at her while she awkwardly strained her neck to look at him-a goofy smile still on her face.

“You’re a weirdo Harrington-now help me up” he nodded his head, grabbing her outstretched hands then pulling her upwards. After she got situated-scooching closer to Steve this time-she grabbed the notebook and her pen.

“So what exactly are your kinks?” she scoffed, glancing at him “uh uh-you can go first” he rolled his eyes, pursing his lips slightly “after I did all of this cleaning for you? I still have to spill my deepest secrets first?” she smacked his arm lightly “I already know your deepest darkest secrets-now tell me your kinks! Other than butt stuff-I already know that one” he rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh.

“Are you ever gonna get over that?” she shook her head “nope, I think it’s funny-as childish as that is” she now glanced at him, raising a brow expectantly “choking” she nodded, writing it down and in turn she wrote it down on her side too, earning a curious look from him.

“That’s good to know” she scoffed “shush-what’s next pretty boy?” he bit his lip “uh being complimented?” she rolled her eyes “it’s called a praise kink” he nodded slowly-watching as she wrote it on both sides-then she followed that with degradation before elbowing him-motioning for him to continue.

“Uh-well I er-I like to spit” she blinked a few times, brows knit together while glancing at him “elaborate” he bit his bottom lip for a second-feeling the familiar heat in his face “Like in girls mouths-and uh-on them” she slowly nodded her head, slightly confused but also intrigued “so like, you just do it? Is it like a heat of the moment thing? Or do you just-do it?” he shrugged.

“I guess it depends on the girl-you into that?” she shrugged “I dunno? Never really thought about it until now-I guess I’m always down to try something new?” he bit his bottom look-the two holding eye contact-his eyes flickering to her lips for a second before moving back up. Then he shifted his body slightly-to face her before bringing a hand to her cheek-gently caressing it before placing his thumb on her bottom lip-tugging at it.

“You wanna try it?” she felt heat rushing through her face-and she knew he’d be able to feel it radiating from her cheeks-his voice slightly dropped as his gaze was held on her lips. “Y-yeah” he smirked at her stuttering, moving his hand to her chin-tilting her head up slightly.

“Open up for me princess” the pet name sent a shiver down her spine as she obeyed him, parting her lips “tongue out-good girl” his praises went straight to her core-she was positive he knew exactly what he was doing-and truth be told-he did. He then leaned over her slightly-spitting in her mouth-and it was almost an instinct for him to lean closer-tongue against hers as he pulled her into a sloppy kiss.

As much as she wanted to keep kissing him she pulled away for air first-she knew she was blushing-the heat enveloping her face had her biting her lip and looking away from Steve-staring down at the notebook. He smirked at her reaction, moving back the smallest bit-still in her personal space as he watched her write it on the paper-on his side she simply wrote ‘spitting’, on her side she wrote it with a few question marks.

“You okay?” she shushed him “you know what you’re doing Harrington-quit it” he couldn’t hold in his laugh at her reaction “I just had to test a theory is all” she shushed him again, this time smacking his chest without looking up at him while she wrote ‘hair pulling’ on her side-and based on what she’d learned from their past experiences-it reflected on his too. She then followed her side with ‘overstimulation’

“So you’re into being fucked til you cry?” she choked slightly, her eyes widening and as she finished writing the ‘n’ she accidentally extended the ending of the letter. “Jesus Christ Steve” he nudged her slightly “oh c’mon you won’t even look at me? Really? Are you embarrassed again?” she scoffed.

“Shut up! Just tell me what to add to the list Harrington” he hummed, raising a brow “Finish your side first” the slight dominance in his tone made her eyes widened-and she finally looked at him-processing how close their faces were “Quit it Harrington” he bit his lip, tilting his head in faux confusion “quit what princess?” she clenched her jaw.

“You know what you’re doing!” he smiled “is it working” she shoved him back-pointing a singular finger at him while squinting her eyes slightly “we need to finish this you horndog!” he smirked, nodding his head “so it is working?” she scoffed “list first, then maybe if we have time we can fuck okay? Shit you’re such a perv!” he smiled “but you like it don’t you” she shushed him again-rolling her eyes while trying to hold in a smile.

“I was serious though, finish your side so I know what I’m working with” she scoffed “confident much? A little humility would benefit you” he nodded his head “you’ve been saying that for years at this point” she scoffed “maybe if you listened then I wouldn’t have to repeat it so often” he slowly nodded his head, a singular brow raised at that “eh-you’re right, now get to writing princess”

“Quit it!” she shoved him again “that one wasn’t even that sexual!” she scoffed, glancing at him “really? That sexual? You ass” he shrugged, pointing to the notebook with an expectant look on his face. She groaned, shifting away from him-trying to block his view-the entire time he moved behind her-glancing over her shoulders as she wrote ‘mirrors, rough sex (situational), breeding??, voyeurism, bondage??, spanking, edging??’.

“You have a breeding kink? That’s hot” her eyes widened at his question, heart practically beating out of her chest “shut up!” he laughed at her tensing up “You have to get comfortable saying things out loud y’know-that’s the whole point of us having sex” she groaned “that’s easy for you to say-you aren’t the one feeling like a whore writing this shit down” he laughed at her embarrassed tone.

“I mean-I’m gonna fuck you like a whore apparently-so it’s not far off?” she elbowed him “Steve!” he rolled his eyes “okay, okay I’ll cut it out” she nodded her head, before adding more things to the list-which only made Steve groan as he read them ‘gagging, crying??’ she shoved him back while she rushed to scribble the next one down ‘thighs’, although he still read it, his brows raised at that one-and he had to admit his cock was twitching in his pants.

“Finished?” she nodded her head, handing him the notebook-too embarrassed to actually face him. He quickly scribbled down ‘breeding, masterbating together, edging, blindfolds, handcuffs?? (sounds hot), biting, pussy eating’ he paused for a second “what’s voyeurism?” she groaned “when you like watching” his brows raised in surprise “learn something new about you every day Y/n” then he wrote it down on his side followed by ‘being in charge’, then ‘submissive shit’.

With that he handed her the notebook-watching as she read through the list, brows raising and eyes widening.

“So can we have sex now? Wait-first how was your exam” she placed the notebook on the bed between them-alongside her pen-her face now in her hands as she tried to calm herself down-she was both nervous and really turned on. He shifted on the bed, now sitting in front of her-gently grabbing her wrists and pulling them away from her face “you okay?” she nodded her head, avoiding eye contact.

“What’s wrong?” she scoffed “that’s my line Harrington” he nodded his head “I’m not the one nervous and stiff-y’know we don’t have to do it all at once-take it day by day-or week by week if you want” she bit her bottom lip, lightly gnawing on it “I’ve just never told anyone that stuff-y’know” he nodded slowly “not even Ryan?” she rolled her eyes “Ryan couldn’t even make me cum, and he was such an egocentric asshole-just cause he was decent at football”

“So you're just into sleeping with assholes then?” he wiggled his brows when she glanced at him, she was quick to roll her eyes-smiling at his words “are you implying you’re an asshole Steve?” he shrugged “seems that way sometimes” she laughed at him “you’re not an asshole-anymore at least” he smiled at that.

“Okay now, we can focus on this-” he grabbed the notebook and closed it “-later, tell me about your exam pretty girl” she rolled her eyes, her smile evident while he stood up from the bed-placing her notebook on her desk before making it back to his original spot on the bed-scooting back against her iron wire headboard-which had pillows in front of it-then he extended his arms out-waiting for her to slide into them.

She grabbed her stuffed animal, holding it as she moved back-leaning against Steve’s side.

“I’m pretty sure I passed it?, found out I have the highest grade in the class-which was kind of shocking because I’ve been struggling my ass off.”

She spent the next hour telling Steve everything about her exam, then about her conversation with her advisor and going into detail on her entire morning, all the while he nodded his head, listening to each and every word she said, free hand rubbing circles into her right thigh-which ended up being draped over his left leg.

Then her alarm clock went off at one-thirty, signaling that the both of them had to be at work in half an hour-which only made Y/n groan, rolling her eyes while Steve reached over and turned it off.

“I hate our job” he nodded his head “I mean-after we get off-we could always-y’know revisit the book” she bit her lip, glancing over at him “okay” with that he nodded his head-and without a second thought he leaned in-placing a gentle kiss to her lips-and when she kissed him back he felt like his heart was doing backflips in his chest-their moment cut short when she moved away, placing Blueberry down on the bed.

“Can you drive today Steve? I really hate driving on days I have class” he nodded his head “that’s uh-fine-yeah totally fine” she smiled, grabbing her tote bag from her desk chair-switchin her wallet and keys from her backpack into that bag-all the while he stared at her, eyes tracing along her figure-staring like a lovesick puppy.

Well that was until she put her vans back on, then turned to look at him, an expectant expression on her face “c’mon Harrington, shoes on-I wanna grab Robin something on the way since she’s been working the morning shift” he furrowed his brows “since when am I your taxi?” she shrugged “since you started eating my pussy on a regular basis” he choked on air at her comment-it was clear her confidence was back-but he hadn’t expected that one.

“Vulgar!” she scoffed “coming from you? You’re a literal perv, now hurry up!” he groaned, getting out of her bed. The two of them scrambled around the house for a few more minutes, then they were off. Y/n now sat in his passenger seat as she went through the different tapes in his glove compartment, raising a brow at the Madonna one while holding it up.

“Are you a material girl, Harrington?” he rolled his eyes “I got that for you y’know” she furrowed her brows, glancing at the tape-then back at him. “You always hum the songs on that album-and you always criticize what I play in the car-so I got that one to play when you’re here” she blinked a few times, trying to ignore the warm feeling in her chest while she popped it out of its case-then replaced the tape in his stereo with it.

He smiled when she played the tape, the upbeat tune of ‘Material Girl’ playing through the car while she looked out the window-based on her posture he knew she was trying to hide her smile-she always did that when people remember small things about her. It was practically the girl’s love language-granted he didn’t really understand the whole love language thing-but he knew nothing made her happier than that.

He was falling deeper and deeper into his ‘thing’ for her, and he just wanted to push it away but the more he thought about it-the worse it got. So he opted to simply ignore it.

Which he later found was a lot harder than he thought.

Several hours had passed since they’d gotten to work, the two worked until close at nine tonight-close used to mean ten-however after a lot of arguing with their manager-they’d gotten it to nine. It was now closer to seven thirty and the traffic within the store started to pick up, Y/n worked the register while Robin worked on helping people with recommendations and going to the back to find any extra copies of tapes, and Steve worked on reshelving and talking to customers around the store.

It was their usual system-dividing and conquering as they went.

However when one of her ex-boyfriend's friends walked through the front door Steve immediately stiffened up-eyeing him as he wandered through the new releases section-then the tall blonde made his way to the front desk where Y/n was currently on the phone.

He waited until she hung up, then from what Steve could see he started flirting with her-and he was laying it on thick-he was too irritated to even acknowledge the guy’s lame pick up lines and overused compliments-all he could focus on was the way Y/n laughed and smiled, rolling her eyes in a playful manner, twirling a piece of her blown out hair around her finger.

She had a wide smile on her face as she rolled her eyes-clearly falling for his shitty flirting. Then he leaned across the counter slightly, closer to her-now twirling one of his fingers around a strand of her hair-the motion lighting a fire of jealousy in Steve’s entire body-to the point that he was completely ignoring a woman asking him for his help-too focused on the way Y/n let that douchebag touch her.

He finally recognized him-Richard Miles-it made sense that his name was Richard, he was a real dickhead. Steve mumbled under his breath about standards while gripping the tape in his hand so hard that his knuckles were whitening-the sound of snapping and a hand being waved in his face finally breaking his trance.

“Uh sorry-ya how can I help you ma’am?” the older woman nodded her head, a tight lipped smile on her face as she glanced over towards Y/n-then back at Steve “I understand that young love can be complicated, but please focus on your job kid-can you help me find a copy of Back to the Future? My grandson has been asking about seeing it” he nodded his head, motioning for her to follow behind him.

Meanwhile Y/n was still giggling at Rich’s jokes, gently swatting his hand away from her hair before leaning back, her hands now on the edge of the counter.

“Sorry Rich-no can do-Robin’s off limits” he scoffed, raising both brows “seriously? I’ve been trying to ask her out forever-she just doesn’t notice. Y’know I have English with her? She doesn’t even acknowledge me half the time-and we sit right next to each other!” she laughed at that, rolling her eyes, shaking her head.

“I can’t help you Rich, the heart wants what it wants-but sometimes it’s just not in the cards” he knit his brows together, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “I’m gonna act like I got that card thing-but you really can’t help me-not even for the sake of old times?” she sighed, pursing her lips inward while shaking her head-she knew why Robin didn’t pay him any mind-and it was never her place to tell anyone that. When Robin wanted to let her truth be known-she would. For now Y/n would be a supportive friend.

“Not even for old times” he sighed, leaning over again-toying with her hair. He’d always been a flirt-that was just Rich, he was a natural flirt and it was simply a part of his personality. She didn’t mind it, the two were actually good friends prior to her messy breakup-then he had to let her know that for the sake of his spot on the team-he had to distance himself from her. At first she was angry that her ex managed to break her friendships apart, but she knew how much playing football actually meant to the blonde so she simply accepted the fate of her friendship.

However when Ryan went off to play football at some D3 school across the country she easily found her way back to her old social circles, when she wasn’t with Steve, Robin, and the kids-she was with them. No one ever really questioned it because she didn’t give them the chance to.

“Alright sweetheart-thanks for trying though” she nodded her head as he let go of her hair, offering a small smile-his gaze finding Robin as she walked around the store “you think if I go talk to her-she’ll listen” Y/n laughed at that, shaking her head “I don’t think so man-sorry” he nodded his head a few times, letting out a groan before handing her the copy of Risky Business

“Interesting choice” he shrugged “what can I say, my sister loves Tom Cruise” she laughed while scanning his membership card, then scanning the barcode of the movie with her hand scanner, typing a few things into the system. “That’ll be four-forty seven and it’s back in three days” he nodded his head, handing her a five dollar bill.

“Keep the change pretty girl” she scoffed, laughing at his terrible joke, however before Y/n could respond Steve was standing next to her behind the front desk, smacking a hand against the counter while grabbing his receipt and shoving it in his direction “have a great day Rich” the blonde slowly nodded while taking his receipt, walking away then turning back to wave at Y/n.

She glanced over at Steve-who was visibly annoyed “what the hell was that Harrington?” he clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath, now meeting her stare “nothing-just figured you could use a break from flirting with every guy within a ten foot radius” she blinked a few times, brows knit together-a wave of anger coursing through her entire body.

“Excuse me? What the fuck is your problem?” he rolled his eyes, nodding his head a few times “my problem? You-” before he could finish Robin cut them both off with a loud “Woah, woah, woah! Both of you calm down and go back to what you were doing! Argue later-we actually have to do our job today!” Y/n clenched her jaw-eyes slightly squinted as she stared at Steve-a look of pure anger on her face while he licked his lips, then offered Robin a tight lipped smile, his hands on his hips while he nodded his head again.

“Yeah-you heard that Y/l/n-we have a job to do so maybe don’t eye fuck any of our other customers” she scoffed “Are you serious? Fuck you Harrington” but before they could keep arguing Robin dragged Steve away-by his ear as if she was his mother. She smiled at some of the customers staring at the two while she dragged him to the far back corner near the Adult section partition.

She immediately smacked his arm “what is wrong with you?!” he rolled his eyes, shrugging his shoulders “nothing-nothings wrong” she raised both brows, staring expectantly at Steve “you’re joking right? You basically just called Y/n a whore? In the middle of our job?” he blinked a few times, finally unclenching his jaw and rolling his shoulders back.

“I didn’t call her a whore” Robin gave him a confused look “yes you did, you literally said she was eye fucking every male within a ten foot radius-your words not mine” she glanced back over at Y/n, who now forced a smile, but Robin easily noticed the way she angrily typed-fingers practically bashing into the keys-then she basically slammed the scanner down onto the counter while smacking the register shut.

“Yeah-she’s pissed.” he looked over at her, now feeling a pang of guilt in his chest-he didn’t know where that came from-he was angry at her-or maybe at Rich-he didn’t really know.

“I just-I dunno” Robin scoffed “you got jealous didn’t you! Oh my god I knew it!” he knit his brows together, glancing back at Robin “knew what?” she rolled her eyes “you have a thing for her! I knew people couldn’t just have sex and not be into each other” he shushed her, blinking rapidly-tilting his head slightly before glancing at the customers around the store. “I don’t have a thing for her”

Robin slowly nodded her head “so why’d you get jealous when Rich was flirting with her-by the way he flirts with everyone-that’s literally just how he acts. He flirts with our English teacher-and she’s like fifty Steve!” he blinked a few times, a dumbfounded look on his face as he opened and closed his lips a few times trying to figure out something to say-he couldn’t just outwardly admit that Robin was right-and he also felt bad for calling Y/n a whore-granted he’d definitely call her a whore in a different context.

“Are you gonna tell her?” he scoffed “Tell her what Rob? I-I don’t have a thing for her-she’s my friend okay-I just-I dunno” Robin slowly nodded, her brows still raised “well-whatever that was-figure your shit out because we have a job to do and I just wanna go home soon” he nodded his head.

For the next two hours Y/n ignored Steve-and even as the three of them were finishing closing she completely ignored him, walking right past him-taking the extra step away from him so their shoulders didn’t brush, taking the register key from his hands without even looking in his direction, organizing the desk while whistling to drown out the sounds of his forced apologies, and once Steve mumbled something about dropping Robin off she simply nodded her head.

She’d gone as far as to sit in the backseat-shimmying away from his line of vision, only saying bye to Robin and blowing her a kiss before staying seated in his back seat. He tried to convince her to move to the front-however she simply stared out of the window-an emotionless expression on her face which remained the same as he drove towards her house.

Once he parked the car she was quick to get out-slamming the door as hard as possible.

“Seriously y/n!” She flipped him off while she walked to her front door-pulling her keys out of her bag and unlocking it-she was planning on slamming the door in Steve’s face-however he managed to hold it open from behind her-following her inside despite her silent protest.

It was clear that she was still pissed.

“Can you at least let me apologize?” she scoffed, walking down the hallway and into her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and placing her bag on her desk before turning to face him. “Apologize? For which part? Being a total asshole to Rich for no fucking reason? Calling me a whore? Or maybe arguing with me at our fucking job? Hmm how about accusing me of eye fucking random fucking people?”

He blinked a few times-trying to ignore the way her irritation was turning him on, she spoke with an almost venomous tone-she hadn’t been this angry with him since their junior year homecoming-but good God was it doing things to him. He licked his lips while nodding his head.

“Maybe if you’d let me explain” she scoffed “explain what? Your bullshit fit of jealousy because oh wow I’m gonna go fuck any guy that pays any attention to me? What do you think I’m just fucking easy?” He tried to stay calm, but as she walked closer to him-her voice getting louder-he found it harder to keep himself calm and collected. He clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath.

“What the fuck do you even have to be jealous of? And don’t even try to lie to me Steve-I know you like the back of my fucking hand! You’re acting like I’m some precious little ‘off limits’ doll-you fucking asshole!” he scoffed, mumbling “you are off limits”-which only made her tilt her head, fists clenched at her sides as she stopped in her tracks-only a few steps away from him now.

“Excuse me?” he nodded his head “last time I checked, you’re not supposed to be fucking other people in the first place Princess” he walked right past her-grabbing the notebook off her desk-flipping it open “Huh-wow even wrote it yourself-what a smart girl you are” his sarcasm was pissing her off even more.

“I never even said I was gonna fuck him, you just assume that I whore myself out to anyone and everyone-huh maybe that’s why I even agreed to fuck you in the first place! How about I just call this off and go fuck Rich and everyone else in Hawkins over the age of eighteen” that caught his attention-now staring at her-the pit of jealousy ignited again.

“Since I’m such a fucking easy whore, maybe I’ll start with all of my exes team mates-let them pass me around for fun!” Her sarcasm was actually irritating him now, and truth be told, the thought of her with anyone but him set off a fire in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. She shook her head, rolling her eyes at his silence.

“Get the fuck out Steve” he licked his lips at her words “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” she scoffed “excuse me?” he nodded his head, “I said, do-you-ever-shut-the-fuck-up” he paused between each word, the evident shift in his tone brought heat to her cheeks-but she ignored it-she was mad at him and she had to remember that as she stood her ground.

“You’re such a fucking asshole Steve!” he bit his lip, nodding his head twice “yeah? I’m the asshole-course I am pretty girl-or would you like it better if Rich called you that-maybe I should just keep calling you a whore-I know how much you like that” his dominant tone was evident while he stared at her-glancing down at the notebook in his hands before flipping a page-looking at the list they’d made earlier for a few seconds before meeting her stare again.

“Maybe I should fuck you like a whore-maybe then you’d shut the fuck up” she swallowed, trying to ignore the heat traveling through her body, forcing a scoff “your ego isn’t helping the situation Harrington” he licked his lips again-a smirk on his face at the way her thighs slightly clenched together-the black miniskirt she wore did nothing to hide that. His eyes slowly trailed her figure-and she was trying her best not to buckle under pressure-she was mad at him-she needed to remember that she was mad at him.

He took a few steps towards her until they were inches apart, the same smirk on his face “you can’t even hide it can you” he tried to place a hand on her cheek-but she immediately smacked it away while rolling her eyes “you can’t fuck your way out of everything Steve” he nodded his head “you’re right, but I can fuck you so good you stop entertaining every asshole that looks your way” his confidence sent shivers down her spine while he held eye contact with her.

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re a jealous asshole” he nodded his head “yea would that make my girl happy? If I said watching that blonde dickhead flirt you-and touch you-made me jealous? That I don’t like people touching what’s not theirs” her face was on fire at this point-and as he placed his hand on her jaw-she let him-her heart practically beating out of it’s chest-her anger slowly fading into need.

“If it’s too much-I want you to say peaches-cause they’re your favorite, isn’t that right princess” she nodded her head, lips parted as she stared at him-slowly forgetting why she was angry in the first place. The look he was giving her was enough to send her spiraling.

Steve on the other hand had a fire of jealousy running through his entire body-he was committed to making his point and solidifying it. He didn’t hesitate to pull her into a kiss, lips crashing together, Y/n easily melting against him-one of his hands now on the back of her head-hand in her hair while the other was holding onto her waist-pulling her even closer to him.

She moaned into the kiss when he lightly tugged on her hair-giving him the chance to slide his tongue into her mouth-and as he deepened the kiss she gripped his sides-tongue moving against his while she felt herself getting pushed into that familiar pool of Steve Harrington. The hand on her waist slipped down-and when he opted to bunch up her skirt-his hand grasping her ass before landing a hard smack to her skin she whimpered.

He didn’t stop there-as he kissed her he repeated the motion, massaging the soft flesh, harshly grasping it, then smacking it-earning a moan as she pulled away from the kiss-eyes still shut-forehead against his-lips parted with heavy breaths falling from them.

“Already desperate? Haven’t even gotten to the good part yet princess” she kept her eyes shut, now biting down on her bottom lip-she didn’t want to look at him-she felt the very familiar flush across her skin-heat enveloping her figure. Her resolve was so easily broken down it was as if she’d never even been mad at him.

“Open your eyes” she listened to him-her gaze focused on anything but his face as she pulled back slightly-she was embarrassed by how easily he could wrap her around his finger-then he smacked her ass again “Look at me princess” she did as told, now meeting his stare-his eyes were usually dark-but they looked almost black-lust overtaking them as he stared at her-his cocky smirk evident.

“You’re such a desperate slut y’know that?” she nodded her head “You just need attention is all” as he spoke he trailed the hand that was on the back of her head along her cheek-tugging at her bottom lip for a second before he harshly gripped her chin-cheeks slightly smushed together-lips parted as rushed breaths left them. “You’re usually such a good girl for me, perfect little princess, all As, studying so hard, never late for anything, always so focused, so helpful, so eager, keeps those legs nice and wide for me, so sweet-but look at you now-a bitchy little whore” his degrading tone had her panties practically soaked, her thighs pressed together, her grip on his sides tightening.

“Is’ okay, m’ gonna take care of my little slut-remind you that you’re my girl-remind you of your fucking place” she tried to nod her head-his hand keeping her still. “You understand me?” she whimpered “y-yes” he gave her an almost sadistic smile “good girl”

With that he all but threw her onto her bed, her back hitting the mattress-a loud creak from her bed heard as it hit the wall. He was quick to pull off his crew neck-tossing it aside then kicking off his shoes-all the while she stared at him, chest rapidly rising and falling while she pressed her thighs together-trying to get some type of friction-some type of relief.

“So pretty like that-” he spoke as he got onto the bed-making his way between her thighs-easily spreading her legs wide open-a smirk on his face when he noticed the evident wet spot on her black panties. Her thighs still covered in marks he’d left the night before-she was his and it made him go crazy. She just needed to be reminded of that.

He was quick to start rubbing her clit above her panties-the friction and much needed relief had her head rolling back, whimpers leaving her lips as her hands gripped the sheets below her-bucking her hips into Steve’s hand-on the verge of begging him for more. The tension between the two had gotten so thick-so palpable-that she was positive it was only making things so much worse for herself.

“Haven’t even really touched you yet and look at you-” he finally slid her panties to the side-not bothering to remove them as his middle and ring finger found their place against her clit while he rubbed harsh circles against the sensitive pearl. “-Don’t think I forgot that you like it rough-you want me to fuck you like a desperate, whiney, whore? Make you cry?” she nodded her head-finally looking at him.

“Use your words princess” she moaned “y-yes” he smirked, fingers moving faster along her clit-the feeling had her whimpering-hooded eyes staring at him while she moved one of her hands-grasping his wrist “you’re already gonna cum aren’t you? That needy?” she moaned as he shifted his hand slightly, two fingers slipping right into her-his thumb against her clit. It was like he memorized her body-to be fair he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the first time they slept together.

Her loud moans and whimpers only motivated him to move his fingers faster within her, curling them against her g-spot over and over again-the motion making her toes curl-the familiar coil in her abdomen tight. As the walls of her cunt fluttered around his fingers he knew she was close-he loved it when he made her cum-she looked so pretty under him-face scrunched up slightly, lips forming a perfect ‘o’ while needy whines and moans left her swollen lips.

“Aw are you already gonna cum? That quick-can’t even hold it can you?” she shook her head, brows knit together while she bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. “Fuck look at you-so fuckin desperate-fuck.” he groaned as he spoke, his eyes trailing her entire figure-her shirt rolling up slightly-skirt bunched up at her waist as her legs were spread wide-glistening cunt on full display just for him.

“So pretty like this, spread wide open just for me” she nodded her head, head rolling back again, rushed whimpers leaving her lips while her back arched off the bed slightly “that’s it princess-cum for me like the needy bitch you are” that sent her right over the edge-hips bucking into his hand while her eyes were squeezed shut-loud moans leaving her lips.

“St-Steve! Oh fuck-Steve” her words dragged as she moaned, breaths slightly choked, her head felt like it was spinning-because the second she felt like she was coming down-she opened her eyes and Steve was already laying between her thighs-fingers still rapidly fucking into her.

“Love how your pussy tastes-fuck can’t get enough of it” with that his tongue trailed along her folds-teasing her-and right as she let out a loud strung out whine-he started lapping at her clit then bringing it into his mouth. He sucked on it like a man starved, her hands now gripping his hair-tugging at the soft brown locks while her back arched off the bed-eyes screwed shut-loud moans, whimpers, and cries constantly falling from her lips.

When she tried bucking her hips into his face he moved his free hand-wrapping it around one of her thighs-holding it against his shoulder-using that as leverage to pin her in place. He moved back for a second “stay fuckin still” she moaned a slurred “yes sir” which only made him groan-mouth back on her pussy-sliding a third finger into her sopping hole-smirking at the way she gasped-his gaze now held on her face-watching as she tried to look at him-her eyes falling shut each and every time.

“Steve-oh my god-Steve-please-please-please” her begging had him moaning against her clit, his hips rutting against her bed-as he kept his motions up, slightly grinding his teeth against her clit-tugging at it-the motion pushing her right over the edge again-the overstimulation setting as she nearly screamed his name. Her whole body tensed, her hands tugging his hair harder and harder while he lapped at her cunt-sliding his fingers out of her-only to replace them with his tongue.

“T-too much-fuck, fuck, fuck” he licked one final flat stripe against her cunt before sitting up on his knees “Yeah? Too much? Pretty girls all fucked out already?” she whimpered “that’s too fuckin bad” with that he grasped her waist “you’ve got on too much clothes baby, take it off my smart girl” she nodded her head, vision slightly hazy as she sat up slightly-pulling off her sweater-tossing it elsewhere before she unclasped her bra-Steve pulling it right off-taking a second to drag his fingers along her arms-the soft motion a direct contrast from the way he was about to ruin her.

“So perfect-look at you-my perfect little fuck toy” she moaned at his words, her heart beating against her chest while his hungry eyes scanned her figure-and as she tried to close her legs-he pinned them down-holding them open-his stare held on her cunt-wet panties pushed to the side-leaving her open the way he liked. “This cunts all mine-all fuckin mine-you understand me?” she nodded her head. “Use your words”

“All yours-fuck Steve-all yours” he smirked, her raspy voice made him blush, but more importantly-her words lit a different fire in him-one that was consuming his entire being-he needed more of her-he needed to fuck her. He landed a harsh smack to her center-the motion earning a whimper from her while she stared at him. “Hands and knees-gonna fuck you like a whore since you love to act like one”

The way he degraded her made her mind hazy, all she could do was nod her head-and with his help she managed to roll over-now on her hands and knees-head slightly hung. He groaned at the sight-but it wasn’t good enough for him-he pressed a singular hand to her lower back-his other hand holding her hip-pushing against her-deepening her arch until she groaned-the new stretch oddly satisfying while Steve worked at his jeans-the sound of his belt unbuckling sent heat through her core.

She was positive that her cunt was leaking along her thighs-she’d never been this turned on in her life-her mind lost in the haze of Steve Harrington’s dominant side. She’d never been a fan of jealous sex in the past-but right now-she’d flirt with half of Hawkins if it meant he’d fuck her like this more often.

He stroked his cock a few times-moaning at the sight of her on all fours-face down ass up just for him-god he’d fantasized about this moment for what felt like years. She wiggled her ass slighty-swaying her hips and whining “Steve-please-fuck me” he moaned at that-smacking her ass twice “shut the fuck up and wait princess” with that he lined himself up with her cunt-sliding the tip of his cock along her slit-gathering her wetness while teasing her.

“Gonna fuck you so good, make you forget all about that fuckin asshole from earlier-remind you that I’m the only one allowed in this tight little cunt-only one allowed to have you like this-only one allowed to hear your desperate whines while I fuck you like a bitch in heat” she whimpered-looking back over her shoulder-craning her neck trying to see him-watching as he stared down at her cunt-gliding his cock along her slit until he found her hole.

“Oh and princess-I’d never assume you’d whore yourself out to anyone who looked your way” with that he slammed into her-bottoming out in one fast stroke-then he repeated the motion building a rhythm. Her arms practically collapsed-back arching a little bit more as her cheek hit the mattress, hands gripping the sheets below her while she moaned his name-over and over-in a chant. She didn’t even care about the burn of the stretch-she loved the way he was pounding into her.

“F-fuck Steve-so good-so so good fuck” he smirked, smacking her ass again-then placing one hand on her waist-holding her bunched up skirt in place as he fucked into her. She was a moaning, whining mess under him as he fucked her-his head thrown back slightly while he kept his movements up. He couldn’t get enough of her-and the way she felt around him-he was thankful she forced him into going to the clinic-the feeling of her warm, tight, wet cunt swallowing him raw was a feeling he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“So fuckin tight-fuck feels so good baby” she whimpered, biting her bottom lip-the overstimulation making her body burn “too much-fuck Steve” her words had a continuos slur to them, all dragging together. It felt too good, she knew she was close again-her body melting into him-she really was his fuck toy-and she loved every second of it.

He leaned forward, snaking a hand around her figure-gripping her throat-the feeling made her whimper as he pulled her back slightly-her head leaned back into his shoulder while he pinned her to the bed-cock fucking into her sopping cunt-the squelching sounds alongside the sounds of skin slapping practically echoing in the room.

Then he started licking and sucking marks into her shoulder blade, leaving a bite mark along her soft skin-earning another loud moan from her.

“Taking my cock so well-fuck feels like you’re swallowing me-so fuckin good for me Y/n-always so fuckin good-even when you have that fuckin attitude. Just needed to get fucked good huh? That it?” she nodded her head, moaning incoherent words and sounds, he felt her walls flutter around him-he knew how close she was-and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t teetering on that edge as well.

“M-more, n-need m-more Steve” he smirked “yeah? You need more? My smart girl needs more?” she whimpered “y-yes” which led to him moving the hand on her hip-sliding it under her body-between her thighs-two fingers tracing crescent moons into her swollen clit, her jaw dropping at that-a long low moan of his name slipping out of her lips, tears sliding down her cheeks from the intense pleasure coursing through her.

“Gonna let me cum in you? Fill you up? Make this cunt mine?” she moaned a quick “y-yes” while nodding her head, one of her hands moving from the bed below her to his wrist-holding on to him while he fucked her over the edge-a loud scream of his name fell past her lips, her eyes squeezed shut as she arched into him.

“Just like that pretty girl, fuck just like that” he moaned as he spoke, keeping his rhythm up-fucking her through her orgasm before pulling out of her, taking a second to press a gentle kiss to her cheek before moving back. “Roll over for me baby” she lazily nodded her head-laying down then slowly rolling onto her back-the second Steve noticed the tears on her face he swiped a few away with his thumb before holding her chin “you’re so pretty when you cry” his words were almost sweet-but the degrading tone behind them made her whimper.

The way she stared at him made his heart race-she looked so cock drunk, her eyes hooded, tears along her cheeks, a layer of sweat covering her skin, lips swollen and parted with a small smile on her face. “Can you handle another one?” she nodded her head “words”

“Yeah-please Stevie” her voice was strained and raspy, she moved one of her hands to grip his forearm-pulling his hand from her chin to her throat all the while holding eye contact with him-and he lost all of his composure at the motion. Her mind was a haze, she was so high on pleasure that she’d practically let him do anything to her right now and it was driving him crazy.

He stared at her for a few moments, taking every part of her in before moving, now leaning above her, perfectly slotted between her thighs while he traced the tip of his cock along her dripping slit-and in one quick motion he was thrusting into her, her head falling back slightly-a loud moan of his name leaving her lips while her hands easily found their way to his back-gripping against his shoulder blades as he pounded relentlessly into her.

“So-so good, fuck-swallowing me whole-taking it so well” she nodded her head at his praise, brows knit together in pleasure while her nails dug into his skin-scratching long marks into his back while she moaned below him-the tears still falling from her eyes as she felt herself practically drowning-it was so overwhelming. She knew she was close, it wouldn’t take much to push her back over the edge-her fucked out cunt and swollen clit so sensitive that the moment his fingers glided against the bud she was gasping and arching into him.

“C’mon princess, cum all over my cock-show me it’s all yours” His head now in the crook of her neck, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. her heart was racing for a different reason now-his words sending a shiver down her spine and even through the ocean of pleasure she was in-she still felt the butterflies in her stomach. He was so close that his shoulder was slightly brushing against her chin-his body enveloping hers.

“Good girl, just like that-squeezin me so good” she moaned again, and as her orgasm hit her-she bit down on his shoulder-earning a loud groan from him-the motion surprising him but also sending heat waves through his entire figure. “F-fuck, gonna cum-I’m gonna fill you up princess” his words were strained and all she could do was moan-too caught up in her orgasm to speak coherently.

Then as she felt herself start coming down from her high-he kept fucking into her-hips slamming against hers for a few seconds before his warmth filled her-the motion feeling almost euphoric as she whined his name-all the while he was moaning incoherent phrases into her ear.

As they both came down from their state of euphoria he rested his head against her shoulder-both of them catching their breath as he slowly pulled out of her-mumbling apologies when she whimpered and gripped his skin again. Then he rolled off of her-ignoring the feeling of his pants around his hips-tucking his cock back into his briefs while he stared at her ceiling. The two laying in complete silence-the only sounds heard were their harsh breaths.

“Steve” he swallowed “yeah?” “Rich is into Robin not me” his eyes widened at that, brows knit together while he processed her words-then he finally sat up-looking over at her-watching as she pulled one of her bunched up sheets over her chest-gaze still held on the ceiling above them.

“What? She’s gay-” Y/n rolled her eyes “we’re literally the only people in Hawkins who know that you moron” he blinked even more, an evident flush on his skin now because he had to bullshit some excuse about the way he just fucked her-or why he said the things he said-he couldn’t just outwardly say he was jealous because he wanted her to be his-in every aspect. No he couldn’t, so what was he supposed to say.

“Oh-uh-shit” she finally looked at him, shifting her body slightly-laying on her side as she met his stare. “Have you always been the jealous type?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes-the real answer was no-he’d been confident in most of his relationships and endeavors-of course his ex girlfriend did cheat on him but even before that he’d never been outwardly jealous when someone looked her way-so why was it different with Y/n.

“Uh yeah-guess so” she knit her brows together at his rushed response, but she didn’t want to press anything else out of him given the fact that it was late and her entire body was sore-and all she wanted to do was take off her soaked panties, take the skirt off, then lay down.

“Help me with my skirt?” he nodded his head, gently pulling the sheet back-a loud audible moan leaving his lips at the sight of her fucked out pussy dripping with his cum-a wave of heat rushing through his entire body as he found himself struggling to pull her skirt off alongside her panties. His gaze focused on her cunt-and as she squeezed her legs shut-angling them slightly-just enough that he could see her leaking pussy he had to fight the urge to finger it all back into her.

She hadn’t even noticed-her eyes fluttering shut while he pulled her clothes off, however as his fingers gently grazed her inner thigh she whimpered-looking at him-realizing his gaze was directly on her center. “Harrington-quit it” he raised a brow-blinking a few times before looking back at her face “huh-what?” she pursed her lips slightly “stop staring at my pussy” he groaned “I can’t help it, looks so good with my cum dripping from it”

She ignored the rush of heat to her face, opting to roll her eyes instead “take your pants off and lay down with me you jealous douchebag-and I still want that apology” he bit his lip, holding back a smile while nodding her head.

Then after a few minutes he was back next to her-pulling her into his chest.

“Sorry for flipping out earlier-I just-I dunno I didn’t like how he was flirting with you-then you kept giggling and I just-” she scoffed “you just what? Assumed I’d spread my legs for him in the middle of the store?” she was teasing him now, her light hearted tone made him roll his eyes, a smile on his face. “I mean-Rich isn’t exactly ugly-for all I know he could be my competition” she rolled her eyes “I agreed to have sex with you and literally said I wouldn’t have sex with anyone else-also if I wanted to fuck Rich I would’ve done it months ago. He’s a cool guy but he’s such an airhead, maybe if I was like you he’d be my type”

He scoffed “like me?-I’ll have you know my type is very diverse!” she rolled her eyes “pretty bimbos with big tits” he scoffed again “and what about you?” she raised a brow, now leaning up, looking down at him “so you’re saying i’m your type?” he started blushing-eyes widening at her words.

“It’s okay Harrington-you just might be my type too. Don’t think too deep into it-might actually hurt that pretty little head” he rolled his eyes “just because you have a nice ass doesn’t mean you have to act like an ass” she nodded her head “who knows-maybe next time you fuck me like that I’ll let you eat it-and don’t forget I have a great rack too”

With that she let out a few giggles, laying back down and shushing him as he tried to respond.

The both of them knew they were more than friends-however they’d do their best to avoid the conversation about that. For now they’d simply pretend nothing had changed-pretend that their sex mean’t nothing-that Steve’s jealousy was just a spur of the moment thing, and that Y/n’s heart didn’t race everytime he looked her way.

What’s the worst that would happen? They’d fall in love? As if.

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