#I need to take apart our bed frame and put our blankets and pillows into space saver bags

[canisonicscrewyou]

Good morning, 6 AM, 3 hours till we start to move (!!!!) and I’m both dreading it and sosososososososo excited

[gojou-violin]

perfect timing

☽ 𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒦𝒯𝒪𝐵𝐸𝑅 𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒦 𝒯𝒲𝒪 ☾

| pairing: alpha!shoto x fem!omega!reader x alpha!bakugo

| warnings: 18+ MDNI a/b/o, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, double penetration, mild temperature play, breeding kink, knotting.

| wc: 4.9k

| taglist

It felt normal at first… Like any other day when I was bored around the house with nothing to do and nowhere to go, I decided to clean. Simple as that. Cleaning. Lots… Lots of cleaning. I thought that maybe it was because I was bored or stressed because I started first thing in the morning and continued throughout the entire day without so much as taking a break for lunch or to put my feet up for a bit. Every time I thought I was done, I turned into a new room of the apartment and found something else that needed to be cleaned. Dishes in the kitchen, clothes that needed to be thrown into the laundry, shelves that needed to be dusted, trophies and picture frames that needed to be polished. After I had done all of that, I swore there was nothing else to do until the laundry was done.

The boys came home earlier than I expected. When they left in the morning, they kissed me as I groggily told them to be safe and they said they’d be back later sometime after dinner. Instead, they came home around 3PM. They caught me sitting on the bed in my pajamas, my favorite pillows tucked around me, my blanket over my crisscrossed legs, the laundry in front of me in a large pile that I was working on folding up neatly one article at a time.

Shoto was the one to point it out. He scrunched his nose, sniffing noticeably, and hissed, “I thought we agreed you’d call whenever you started your heats.”

I laughed at him. “I haven’t started—”

Bakugo had to run out of the room suddenly, causing me to freeze and look up at Shoto. Now that the door was open, I could tell that there was a difference between the air I had been surrounded by for about an hour or so compared to the air out in the hallway and the rest of the apartment. Hell, there was even a third scent being thrown into the mix now that Kacchan and Shoto were home.

“You’re supposed to call when you start your rut!” I hissed back at him.

He threw his hands up in defeat. “We tried, but it looks like someone was too busy making a nest on the bed to pick up the phone!”

I looked around myself for a split second, realizing that what he was saying was right. I’d been giving off more scents than I realized for who knew how long, and I’d been cleaning to make the apartment perfect, and I’d snuggled myself up on the bed with my favorite things, including their clothes. It was just innocent cleaning at one point… Wasn’t it?

Shoto’s hands clenched and his stance changed like he was trying to hold himself back. An omega in heat, an Alpha in rut, it was supposed to be the perfect combination, but the three of us never had to deal with it before. Whenever I was starting my heats, I could tell days in advance, giving us enough time to prep. The boys would let me set up my nest wherever I wanted in the apartment, they’d call their respective Pro-Hero companies to let them know that at least one of them had to be at home at all times to watch over me, which meant their schedules were fucked up; and they’d take inhibators to make sure they had some kind of self control while I suffered because sometimes I didn’t want to mate, and that was alright, but their Alpha instincts were stronger than them sometimes. And whenever they’d start their ruts, it was always at different times, so one of them would have to leave the house altogether or else it would start a war, meanwhile I basically was glued to the bed for however many days it took because the two of them were like wild animals when they were in rut. They had to fuck me and fill me up or else they would go insane. What we didn’t account for was our unexpected heats and ruts to align…

“Kacchan started this morning without warning,” Shoto explained. “He tried to take inhibitors when I told him he was starting to trigger mine.” He did his best to hold his breath while he explained, “But it was too late… By the time he’d calmed down, I started, too, and we had to come home.”

So that was why they were back early. And that was why Kacchan left the room suddenly. Out of the two of them, Bakugo was obviously the one less capable of self-restraint. Honestly, Shoto’s ruts were the easiest because he got protective and horny for about two days before he was done, which meant that I just needed to fuck him a few times and he felt better. But Kacchan… The poor thing’s ruts lasted anywhere between five to seven days, and he was needy all the time. There were no breaks when I was with him. He tried his best to hide from me during his ruts because he didn’t want to subject me to being stuck on his knot for a week, but he’d always go back on his own promise, hunting me down in the apartment to breed me the second he laid eyes on me. Out of the two of them, Bakugo was the more protective one, too. He got violent during his ruts. If I mentioned Shoto, or if I was even caught texting him, or if I happened to be watching TV and stared at an Alpha on screen a second too long, Kacchan would get upset. Not with me, though. He never got upset with me. If Shoto was the issue, he’d try to fight Shoto— Which was why they always had to separate during their ruts now. If it was something online or otherwise, Bakugo would try to his ignore his anger by fucking me, to prove that I was his.

“Sho…” I croaked, scared. “What do we do?”

He released his breath. I could see from my spot on the bed that his entire body was shaking now, a brave attempt to keep himself away from me as I was pouting at him, a scared omega in the middle of heat who needed an Alpha to make everything right.

“Baby…” he whispered through a raspy breath, “we gotta get your scent under control first…”

“I can’t,” I whined. I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know I was doing it. I didn’t know when it would stop! I started to panic, which only made things worse, forcing Shoto to expel more of his pheromones, too, in an attempt to calm me down.

“You gotta try for me, baby—”

“I can’t take it anymore!” Kacchan stormed into the room. “I can smell it all the way down the hall!” He scrambled onto the bed while Shoto tried to hold them both back. “I have to—”

“You can’t! It’s their nest!”

“I can’t help it—”

“You have to, Kacchan!”

They both fell onto the ground and started wrestling while growling at each other like Alphas did when they were protecting their omegas. They each thought they were in the right. Shoto was doing his best to guard me because I was in my nest, my safe place; Meanwhile, Bakugo was trying to help us both get through how much we needed each other, even if it meant jumping into my nest. Both of them were giving off too many pheromones in the process. Anger, defense, lust, it all swarmed to the point that I began to panic further. I knew that they could then smell me because they stopped within an instant, forgetting about why they were fighting in the first place, then they ran to my aid. Their omega was upset. I’d spent all day cleaning for them, making everything perfect, and I just wanted everything to be okay—

Bakugo caught me off guard by smothering me in a hug that made me fall back against the mattress. Only seconds ago had he been so feral that he would have done anything to have me; but now he was so caring. He just wanted to make me feel better. I could smell his worry on him, and I could feel by how he was strangling me in his arms that he wanted to make sure that I was alright and that I felt safe and protected.

I relaxed once he and Shoto had me in their arms.

“What do we do?” I asked one more time.

Bakugo nuzzled me with his nose, a dare to see if he could last long enough to not scent me. “I’ll leave for a couple of days so that Todoroki can watch over you.” He seemed so tranquil now that we were all on the bed.

“What about you—”

“It’ll be fine, baby.” He kept nuzzling me, almost like he was trying to find a way to get inside of my skin because he was so desperate for more and all of me that just having me wrapped in his arms wasn’t enough.

“We’ll figure something out,” Shoto whispered calmly.

The smell in the room started to change again, my head clouding up with thoughts and ideas of them both in the bed with me, holding me, kissing me, touching me, fucking me. It seemed that even though Kacchan had calmed down, they were both still incapable of preventing their ruts from taking over their natural senses, which allowed me to smell just how desperate they were. Could they smell it on me, too? Did they know that I was thinking then and there that I would have been fine if we all said "'fuck it" and stayed in bed until my heat and their ruts were over? Could they smell how I melted at the thought of being stuck on the bed for days, pinned under them, my legs pressed up against my chest as they knotted me. Did they know that I was practically dying to be filled up to be reminded that I was theirs?

“You smell so fucking good,” Kacchan cooed in my ear.

Yes, they did know. It was too obvious for them to ignore me, the same way it was too hard for me to not acknowledge the fact that they were both grinding against my thighs now to get some kind of relief.

“Kacc… Kacchan…” I whimpered.

“Fuck—”

Within an instant, Bakugo was scenting my right side. He found the gland so easily so that his attack could go smoothly while Shoto reached for my hands and decided it was best to pin them at my sides before he began to scent my left side. I moaned between them. I couldn’t remember the last time they had both scented me at the same time. There had been over a dozen instances where they were using me at the same time and took turns scenting, but it felt so overwhelming and unfamiliar to have them both nibbling around my neck and jawline just to get my body to release a smell that said, “I’m yours. Only yours. Take me however you want me!”

“I’ve gotta have you, baby, please,” Bakugo pleaded with me. “Please.”

I nodded vigorously while reaching up for their hair, tugging gently to make sure they kept touching me because if they ever stopped I feared I would die. Even though they were in my nest, a place that Shoto always tried his very best to respect and not enter, I could tell that they both threw out every bit of reason they had left the second I bucked up underneath them, signaling that I needed them as much as they needed me. Besides, in theory, my nest was the best place to do it. That was what they always said in health classes at school. “Typically, when Alphas and omegas are ready to mate for the sake of breeding specifically, they will do so in the omega’s nest. These days, this will only happen with the omega’s consent; but way back in the day, Alphas would force their way into the omega’s nest to breed them.”

We had been too fucking young then to learn that type of shit— But I was beginning to appreciate the knowledge now while Bakugo was clawing to get my pants off and Shoto was carefully unbuttoning my shirt because he didn’t want to ruin anything that I’d likely have to fix later myself. To hell with reason. To hell with making up a plan that included sending Bakugo away to deal with his rut alone! I was right there! I needed them, too! Fuck, I needed them just as much as they needed me!

“Please— Something— Anything!” I begged breathlessly.

Shoto reached down to press his thumb against my clit as Kacchan desperately kicked his own pants off because he was straining too much in the tight confines of his clothes. When he was back on top of me, he joined Shoto in the effort to kill me with pleasure by sliding his middle finger inside of me and curling it without warning. I clenched down around his digit. It wasn’t enough. If he was going to tease me, the least he could have done was give me another finger to make me feel more, because we all knew what we really needed. They needed to be inside of me, and I needed to be filled.

“Don’t tease,” I continued to plead.

Shoto kissed my lips to calm me down.

Bakugo added another finger and explained, “We’re not teasing, baby, we’re just taking our time getting you ready.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Shoto added.

I shook my head. “I need you now— I don’t care if it hurts!”

They both started leaving gentle kisses everywhere across my body. Despite what I was screaming while tears were pricking at the corner of my eyes, they still had enough awareness to recognize that it was the omega inside of me making bad choices, so it was their duty as my Alphas to make sure that no one actually hurt me, even though I thought it was alright. It wasn’t alright. Whatever it was that they had on their minds, there was a good reason for them to be taking their time to ensure that Kacchan did a good job of loosening me up while Shoto worked my clit faster to get me towards an orgasm.

Warmth brewed inside of me and nearly felt like it was burning the skin on my hips, too, thanks to Bakugo who was thrusting his fingers in and out of me with one hand while holding onto me for dear life to make sure I didn’t squirm away. It was too hot. I felt like I was overheating under both of them and with Bakugo’s Quirk heating up unintentionally. But it didn’t matter. I was near the edge, just about to tip over, and all that made sense was to wriggle around and kiss Shoto as I discovered euphoria. My body shook as I came. My legs and my arms were too weak to hold me up or push Bakugo and Shoto away from me, so I had to lay there and take it as it got so hot I began to sweat while they were overstimulating me for the sake of hearing me whine and beg them for mercy.

“You’re gonna kill them if you do that—” Shoto warned, snatching Kacchan’s hand away finally. I slumped with a deep breath. “You’re too hot, darling.” As he finished abusing my swollen clit, he used his Quirk to cool me down, wiping the sweat off my forehead with kisses that followed his touch.

“I’m sorry,” Bakugo pouted half-heartedly.

He wasn’t sorry for jumping into bed or for instigating everything or for letting his Quirk help me through my orgasm. No, no, he wasn’t sorry for anything that made me feel good. He was, however, sorry that he’d gone too far without realizing it; and he was sorry because he didn’t want to risk losing the opportunity to finally fuck me.

“I won’t do it again.”

That was his reassurance to me and Shoto so that we didn’t have to stop.

“I just need you so fucking bad—” He invited himself to touch me again by kissing my collarbone as he settled between my legs, the tip of his erection pressing against my sensitive clit.

“You’re not being…” My train of thought began to drift as Shoto laid down next to me and rolled me onto him. “You’re not being fair to Sho, Kacchan…” My back was now pressed against Shoto’s clothed chest, my ass resting just above his pelvis because Bakugo was working to yank Shoto’s pants down. “I’ll get too tired if- if you…” I was too distracted to keep coming up with excuses anymore.

They were both hard against me now. Shoto was under me, his cock dripping precum onto my thigh, meanwhile Bakugo was hovering closer above me, his cock drifting down towards my entrance.

“I can play fair, baby, don’t you worry,” Bakugo said wickedly. “Just need you to relax and let your Alphas take care of you. Can you do that, baby? Can you let us make you feel good?”

I nodded while whimpering between them.

“Such a good omega for us…”

As Bakugo used his hand to line himself up perfectly with my entrance, Shoto was scenting my neck again to keep me calm and loose, a willing, immobile participant in whatever ideas they had running through their minds. I was their good omega. The praise was going to my head too much— Their good omega. I could be good! I could be perfect! I could be all theirs if they would just—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groaned, grabbing onto Kacchan’s shoulders.

He was so big… It must have been the fact that he was in rut because he felt bigger and warmer than usual. Part of me felt like I wouldn’t be able to take it, so I squirmed and complained with high pitched whimpers, but he held me steady with hands on my hips so that he could slide into me inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt, filling me up so perfectly I forgot about the whole world around me. All that mattered now was him. I needed him to fuck me. I needed him to fill me. I needed him to—

“Just stay relaxed, baby, okay?” Shoto whispered in my ear.

I nodded even though I wasn’t really sure what was about to happen.

“You wanna feel really full, don’t you, baby? That’s what you said, right?” Bakugo questioned, running his fingers through my hair. When I nodded again, he smiled. “And you wanna let your Alphas breed you to make us feel better during our ruts, right?” I nodded with more enthusiasm. “Good. Good. You’ll do great for us.”

A gasp escaped me as I felt Shoto lining himself up with my entrance, too, his cock probing the limited space there was next to Kacchan’s already sizable length. Two Alphas in rut wanted to be inside of me, at the same time?! I panicked again. They held me steady while I thrashed around until Bakugo’s cock hit a spot deep inside of me that made me go limp again and moan submissively. The two of them… They wouldn’t fit… It wasn’t that I was opposed to the idea or wanted to stop. In fact, I wanted them to try, even if it hurt, even if I squirmed and cried, because deep down, despite the fact that I was scared, I knew that it would relieve the desperate ache I had to be filled, stretched, and destroyed by them. My Alphas. They would take care of me. They would look after me. Nothing would happen to me so long as I was still in Shoto’s arms as Kacchan tried to find a way to make both of them fit.

“Oh, fuck—” Shoto hissed. Bakugo found an entry point that got Sho’s tip in next to Bakugo’s length.

I grabbed harder onto the sturdy shoulders above me. It hurt so bad… They had made me cum in the hopes that it would loosen me up, but that was only worth so much when Kacchan already took up all the room I had to give. The truth of the matter was, it was just going to take time. We were all patient. Once the tip was in, it was just a bit more of a stretch from there, and once he was settled inside, I knew that everything would be okay… I just had to trust my Alphas—

“Sho!” I moaned, throwing my head back into the crook of his neck, tensing my whole body in response to the way he started sliding in without any warning.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…” he apologized sincerely. “I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.”

I felt him straining under me to hesitate to give me time to breathe, relax and adjust; but it was hard for all of us to stay still and wait while Bakugo was getting jittery and Shoto was giving off a scent that begged me to let him fuck me no matter what happened. I thought we were patient. What happened?

“Do it,” I begged. “Just go—”

He did as I asked, pushing slowly into me a bit more while scenting my neck to make sure that I was okay and that I was like puddy in both of their arms. The stretch felt unbearable at times. I thought that I was going to break in two. But Shoto would have pulled out if he thought I couldn’t have taken it, and Bakugo would have scratched out the other Alpha’s eyes if he thought I was being hurt. Truth was, I loved it. I loved the sting, the stretch, the way they both fit in me to complete the desire I had to be unimaginably stuffed. I felt the urges of my heat begin to cheer in my heart. I was happy— Ecstatic, even.

“Thank you...”

“You’re welcome, baby,” Shoto whispered.

“I gotta move,” Bakugo complained while his knuckles were turning white due to the grip he had on my hips. “I gotta, baby. Fuck, I gotta—” He pulled back lightly before snapping his hips forward.

Shoto and I moaned in unison.

It felt strange having both of them inside of me. I could feel their tips bottoming out inside of me simultaneously, their shafts were so girthy that they were constantly stretching my walls to mold to fit them, and I could feel them both twitching from the friction they got from rubbing against each other when they both started fucking into me like wild animals. I was tight on my own… Unbearably tight sometimes, according to Bakugo; I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it felt like for them to be crowded in there. It must have felt amazing because Bakugo of all people was screwing his eyes shut while moaning pathetically into my neck. I’d never seen him so broken before. I’d never heard him be so lewd. Usually, he liked to grunt and tell me that I was a good omega, his good omega, or something along those lines, all while telling Shoto what he could be doing better if he were fucking my mouth or sitting to the side and scenting me. Bakugo was never speechless.

“I can’t—” he gasped. Suddenly, he was burning up again, his skin nearly simmering mine until I hissed and Shoto reached for my hips and started to cool me down. “Fuck, you’re too cold, Icy-Hot.”

“You’re too warm, Kacchan,” Shoto moaned.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head from being so overwhelmed. Both of their chests that I was sandwiched between were so warm, yet their hands told a different story. Part of me was burning up, the other was shivering from excitement and a hint of freezing. They weren’t going to hurt me. They just wanted to mess with me.

“You think you can take our knots, baby?” Bakugo questioned with a smirk he was forcing on his face to prevent us from seeing just how much he had broken down in the midst of salving his rut.

I nodded. “Please,” I whined. “Please—”

They both started working faster without a second thought or any kind of communication to one another. Shoto’s arms were wrapped around my waist to hold me down against him to keep me steady while he bucked up, meeting Bakugo’s thrusts as he was fucking down into me, his hands still on my hips, both of them still using their Quirks on my body to drive me crazy. In that moment, I thought to myself that I could live like that forever. Squished between them, completely at their will, working towards my own orgasm as they raced to be the one who knotted me first because who knew if both of them could fit in me at the same time.

“Have to breed you, baby—” Shoto panted in my ear. “You want that?”

I nodded.

“Gonna put our pups in you—” Bakugo egged on.

“We’ll do this every time you’re in heat—”

“Because you deserve it! Fuck!”

Bakugo was the first to fuck me faster as he hit his peak, then stilled as he came inside of me, giving me everything he had to offer during his pent up rut. He scented me one last time as he filled me up. It was the final moment where he could mark me as his omega in multiple ways at once. Meanwhile, Shoto held out for a second longer so that he could rub my sensitive clit again until I was near the edge, too. I knew that he wanted to make me cum with him. It worked. As I tipped over, I squeezed desperately around both of their lengths, twitching and squirming between their stiff bodies. Bakugo hissed at the overstimulation— It was enough to give me his knot, however. It popped through my entrance and into me to hold his cum right where it belonged. Shoto came inside of me with a pathetic moan that he hid in my neck as he scented me. The knot beside his own was too much to bear for him. It was too crowded. It was too tight. It felt too fucking good.

I cried as their knots plugged me.

They both cooed me like I was an upset pet who needed comfort from its owner. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed the way Bakugo collapsed onto my chest with his face still buried in my neck so that he could soak up my scent that he was so in love with; and I loved the way Shoto ran his cold fingers through my hair in an attempt to get me to relax after how much work I’d put in just to take them both during their ruts. I would have do it again, there was no doubt about it, but… It hurt. Now that my clouded mind was clearing up, I had enough sense to tell myself that I’d never be able to take them both like that at the same time ever again, even if we desperately tried. I supposed it was perfect timing, then. My heat started at the same time as their ruts. What were the odds of that?

I ran my fingers through Bakugo’s blonde hair to mimic Shoto’s soothing touch on me. “Feeling better?”

Bakugo nipped at my neck to play with me. “Don’t tease me right now, omega. I could break you if you’re mean.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Shoto warned, also being playful, before he leaned over my shoulder to kiss Bakugo.

I kissed their cheeks before melting into them. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

Their knots were still strong, and knowing them, especially during their ruts, they could stay stiff for a while, something I had to learn to deal with since we first mated. They liked it when I fell asleep with them still inside of me— Shoto tried to explain it to me once. He said that it was an Alpha urge that tugged at his heart whenever I was snug on his knot and felt safe enough with him to fall asleep in his arms, that I trusted him enough to take care of me like that. And I didn’t half mind falling asleep either when my eyes always got too heavy to keep open during my heats. When they inevitably calmed down every time, they always just slid out of me carefully to not wake me, and then they’d clean me up and look after me like any good Alpha would; but with both of them, I knew that there was no way they’d be able to sort it out themselves. They’d have to wake me up to warn me that I’d feel unbearably empty soon.

“You did so well for us, baby,” Shoto praised me. “Such a good omega.” He kissed my cheek before he slumped against the bed. “Get some rest for us.”

There was another smirk on Bakugo’s face that told me he might wake me for something besides pulling out of me, to which I returned a look that said he could fuck Shoto instead. We both smiled and kissed.

[plush-rabbit]

Uncertainty in the Household

Picture Perfect Series

TW: talk and action for miscarriage, slight manipulation

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: I wanted to explore the reader and Danny’s relationship in this chapter, so i hope you like it, first part is p rough with the whole miscarriage, so you're free to skip to after the second - if you're uncomfy with that

-

Tears fall into your palms as your fingertips dig into your scalp, your belly- while still early in the pregnancy, still feels as if it’s protruding, and you sit on the shared bed, a faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol lingers in the air and you’re alone. For now, at least. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were Danny who was the father. You want to kid yourself, to tell such lies that he could be the father, that sleeping with- that being forced into whatever sick game Ghostface has with you- that he didn’t impregnate you. You blame yourself. You should have taken the morning after pill, you should have purged yourself of everything and anything to make sure that you didn’t let yourself have his child. Your stomach twists and turns, a thin veil of acid on your tongue and you wonder how to explain this to Danny. If you even should. It’s still early, maybe you could get rid of the child before anyone has to know. Your eyes widen and you sit up, your eyes scanning the room and you let out a breath, nodding to yourself.

You can get rid of the child. No one knows. You made sure to throw away the pregnancy tests in a dumpster at a park and rip the receipts before anyone could ever see. No one has to know.

Loneliness, while always being your aggressor, has finally worked in your favor. You rush to put on your clothes, ignoring the burning desire to cry, your purse in your hand, you walk to the front door, pausing to leave a note to your partner.

“Went out, I’ll bring dinner.” Something short and simple. Marked with a little heart at the end that makes you feel a bit sick, like it’s something like a lie that you’re telling him. You place the pen down and grab the car keys, rushing down the steps. Each step down the stairs is something that feels heavy, chains around our ankle and the child- no, you can’t call it that. You know you’ll get attached. You’ve heard about the tactics that are used to pressure vulnerable people into keeping their unborn children, and you won’t be one of those. You can’t. Not now and you’re sure not ever. The car purrs to life, the steering wheel a bit too hot from being under the sun and you wait, letting the cool air fan against your already hot body and you reverse out of the parking lot.

-

You return with tuna, alcohol, fenugreek, a peppermint and aloe vera plant, a thin bag that is filled with peaches, different varieties of caffeine that you can already taste, and pineapple. Your hands ache, the base of your fingers sore from the heaviness of the bags that you stubbornly carried up to the apartment. You were not going to make multiple trips, that much was certain about your day. You hear his voice before you see him, a greeting cut off as he realizes just how much you’re carrying. Danny’s eyes widen, and he rushes off the couch, taking bags away and your palms are redden from the indents of the bags.

“Are we having a feast?” His hands are inside a bag and he pulls out wrapped fish, and he stops, turning to you, a tight smile on his lips that you don’t recognize. “I didn’t know you liked fish.” He places it down and watches as you carefully place a clinking bag down onto the table. “Alcohol too, huh? What-” he turns to you, a nervous chuckle filling the space of his words- “Did I forget a special date?”

You shake your head no, already biting into an unwashed peach, trying to ignore how many hands and bacteria have touched the fruit before you. “Just-” you speak with a full mouth and turn your head, covering your mouth with your hand and taking another bite. You swallow and take a gulp of air. “I was just craving fish is all. Why? Do you not like fish?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that I- I just wanted soup, and-” your smile falls and he shakes his head. “I can get soup tomorrow. How long until the fish is down?”

“Actually-” you reach into another bag and pull out two containers- “I was able to buy some sushi on the way home.” You pull out a pack and slide the container to him. You spare him a glance as he stares at the sushi with an odd, angry feeling. “Oh, I’m uh, I have tomorrow off, by the way.” You meet his eyes for a minute and he gives you a nod, allowing you to continue.

“You’ve been throwing up lately,” he adds, taking a bite from his plate. Your heart sinks and you try to mask your emotions, turning around to grab a bottle opener from one the drawers. “I’ve been worried, you know. Maybe-” the chair squeaks and when you turn, he’s sitting down, an unopened beer beside his plate- “I should take tomorrow off too and we can go to the doctor. Just to see if you don’t have the flu or-” he tilts his head, his lips twitching- “if it isn’t anything else.”

A part of you wants to tell him your fear. You don’t want to be pregnant, and you hope that if you manifest it enough, it’ll be true. But you also fear that he wants a family and you’ll be the one ruining it for him. Maybe you aren’t even pregnant. Maybe it’s just needless worry over a few faulty exams, but you can’t risk it. Not now. Not if it has the chance to be someone other than Danny’s.

With a bottle opener in hand, you walk towards Danny, his eyes on you the entire time. You place the bottle opener beside his drink, a hand on his shoulder and the other brushing back his hair, combing it to the side. His hands leave his meal and rest against your hips, his gaze up at you and there’s a hint of a smile at his lips, and you lean down, pressing your lips over his scar that adorns his forehead.

“We have bills to pay Dan,” you mutter, “at least one of us should be responsible.” You close your eyes tightly to avoid tears spilling over, the hand on his shoulder tightening and when you pull away, he looks unbothered for a moment before giving you a forced smile. “Let’s eat, okay? You can tell me about your day.”

-

All it takes is one doctor appointment to confirm that you are not pregnant. It was just a scare. And as if life and everything else in control of you wanted to laugh, you bled through your underwear on the ride home. The vomiting in the morning was your body simply pretending to have the signs, your mind so strong that it created a falsehood of pregnancy, just because you were so scared and sure of it.

Life is odd for the moment. You tried so hard to get rid of the unwanted child and they were never there to begin with. You had to go through with the nervousness that consumed you. The call to the doctor, the waiting, the glances that Danny gave you as if he knew something. You wonder if he did know. He isn’t dumb, a bit dense when it comes to your feelings, but he’s smart in a way that matters. You hope that he doesn’t know, for both your sake and his. The little scare will be something that you take to your grave, hoping that it’ll remain just that.

The fan is turned on with a simple swipe of your hand against the light switch, the room filling with white noise. You sit on his couch, your body stiff as if it were the first time that you had visited his home. You still remember how it was. Dirty. You hadn’t expected that from him. There was trash all over, a sort of musty smell and an empty fridge. He hadn’t seemed embarrassed, but rather mildly inconvenienced even though he was the one to invite you over. However, now the place is as clean as it can be, the musty smell now replaced by a slight twinge of alcohol and tobacco, but with an overlapping floral scent from one of your candles. You can’t help but wonder if he minds that you added bits and pieces of yourself into his home. He calls it your home too, almost too eager to make sure that you know that you belong here, but even so, it doesn't feel like your home. It’s too empty, too devoid of your touch. You still feel as if you’re a guest, waiting and cleaning, tending to him when he needs it.

The simple fact of the matter is, this isn’t your home. Your stuff, your personal items that you decorated your home are still in boxes shoved under the bed. You miss your home. “I miss my home,” you say to yourself, tears pricking in your eyes. The rent was cheap, and the landlords were kind enough, but it’s gone. The place scooped up by some stranger and the thought has your stomach rising.

You’ve thought about leaving here. Perhaps not Danny, but maybe that would be a consequence of you leaving. It was too rushed. You were too scared of Ghostface invading your life again. You made a rash decision that the both of you now have to pay for. He lost his space, his privacy and you can tell he holds some resentment, the way he slams the doors close, how he locks the rooms and won’t speak to you until he needs something, until he’s pressuring you to kiss him with a half-hearted apology on his tongue.

You glance at the coffee table, old and cracked, the paint on the wood chipped and revealing the unfurnished finish. The photo frame is cold, a slight layer of dust over it, concealing your nervous smile and Danny’s wide one. He isn't happy, but he’s smiling. You both only have a few pictures with each other. It isn’t much, and you’re surprised that the photographer wouldn’t want more, but it can’t be helped.

The photo is placed back on the table, and you lay down on the sofa, grabbing at the throw blanket that you added. Your arms act as a pillow underneath your weary head, and you stare at the photo, training over how his arms are wrapped tight round you and how close that he holds you.

-

Daniel walks into his shared apartment with you, and he immediately spots your shoes in a different position than when he left. He frowns, walking further into the apartment, his eyes scan the room, his eyes landing on a crumpled bag of fast food on the table, the drink creating a water ring on the table. It isn’t like you to be so careless.

The drink rattles in his hand, nothing but cold liquid is inside the container. His bag is heavy as he leans it against the wall on the floor, and he finally finds you. You’re asleep on the couch, your body curled with the decorative throw blanket covering your body as the fan spins above.

He lowers himself to watch you, your soft breaths and the way your face is relaxed. You’re asleep and it brings him back to a time where you were under him, where night concealed him and he was able to hover above you. It’s much different now, you’re still scared but he’s able to kiss you, to have you rake your nails down his back and hold his hand as if it’s the only thing to keep you sane.

A calloused hand cups your cheek, your skin soft and blemished with faded scars that he’s studied meticulously night after night. You wake up with his fingers tracing over your face and he doesn’t make a sound, everything about him is stoic and he wonders how you are seeing this situation in your eyes. Are you scared? Do you know? Are you pregnant? What are you thinking of him at this very moment? You blink slowly at him and he’s reminded of a cat, watching and tired, and there’s a burning desire in him that wonders what you would do if he strangled you right now. Slowly, his hand lowers, his knuckles brushing over your cheekbones and down your jawline, touching against your pulse on your neck and he feels it quicken. Your eyes never leave his and he doesn’t look away. He’s sure that he could convince you that it was a joke or that maybe it was just a dream that you had. It’s been a while since you had such a vivid dream.

Your hand creeps from under the blanket and you hold the back of his hand, moving it back to your face, letting your lips press against the side of his palm in a soft kiss. “Danny,” you say in a sleepy voice as your eyes close. “How was work?” Your hand that holds his becomes limp and he watches as it slides down his hand, catching on the cuff of his sweater until it dangles off the couch.

It wasn’t smart of him to invite you to live with him. He was too reckless, too needy and desperate to have you beside him that he just wasn’t thinking. Even if you are naïve and easily pulled into a false sense of security, he can’t just explain his costume, he can’t explain the knife and all the careful cleaning kits that he has. This is all too risky.

But he can’t throw you out either. He’s become attached. You’re like a pet to him now, and as every disgruntled man says on television, don’t name something or else you’ll get attached. And now he’s fallen victim to it. It’s nice to have such an easy fuck around, to know that he cold do whatever he wanted to you and you’ll stay here with him, because the other option is much scarier. The corners of his lips pull upwards and he pulls his hand away, fixing the blanket above you and he rises from his knees with a sigh.

“Another dead body,” he says with a chipper voice that he can’t seem to hide. “All signs point to our residential serial killer.” It’s much too risky to have Ghostface visit you, you thought this as your safe haven, you have to know and think that it still is, but fuck does he miss your fear and how pitifully you cried. “You never told me why you hated him so much.” He has to bite the inside of his cheeks when your brows knit together. “I know he’s a killer, but did he ever hurt anyone close to you?”

Your eyes shift and you pull the blanket closer to you, the folds stretching across your frame and showing the curves of your body. “I’m not sure, I just-” you catch his eyes and he sees you visibly shrink away from him- “I’m scared of his mask.”

His mouth fills with saliva as he thinks about just how frightened you are. “What a shame, I was hoping to get into roleplay.” He could think about you know, how you'd hit and scream, how he could pretend that it was all part of the act and just hold you down, thinking about how you would put the pieces together and sob.

“That isn’t funny,” you say in a high-pitched voice, already cracking and sitting up to lessen the distance between the two of you. He rolls his eyes in response, standing up from his crouch with a hiss between his teeth. “People are dead,” you whine, as if he hasn’t been keeping up with the news with you. “He killed people.” You’re much more emotional than he thought, but you’ve held your mouth for so long, suffered in your silence and in your vulnerability; it's only natural you would have such strong emotions.

“Relax, it was a joke.” He takes off his jacket and tosses it beside you, watching as you pull yourself closer, further away from his jacket and only staring at it with confusion, as if he dared to have the audacity to throw something your way.

“A dumb one,” you say with with a pout, gripping tighter onto the blanket.

“I said relax,” Danny says in a stern voice, already done with the conversation. He may have been the one to start it but he was hoping for a more playful one, or rather one where you go along with him rather than try to fight him.

“Whatever,” you huff, and he sees you bundle the blanket in your arms, pushing yourself to the further end of the couch, looking at the wall with furrowed brows as your hand tries to discreetly cover your pout.

“Great,” he says sarcastically, turning around and walking towards the fridge. “Now, you’re angry,” he says loud enough for you to hear.

He rises back up with a bottle in his hand, toying with the cap, letting the ridges play against his fingertips. You don’t respond and he can feel his anger start to rise, something thick that lodges in his throat and makes it impossible to swallow. You aren’t answering him. Usually this would be a good sign, something that means he still has you wrapped around his finger, but it feels different. You aren’t moving from your spot, and you aren’t apologizing to him. He puts the bottle down, and runs his hand down his face with a heavy sigh.

“I think,” your voice is small, and he can barely hear it, but he can, “we both rushed into this… relationship. We should have taken it slow.” When you turn to him, he sees that your eyes are wet and you try to take steady breaths but to no avail. “I’m happy with you, but I don’t think we were thinking clearly when we chose to-” your eyes glance around and you look away from him- “to do this.”

His jaw twitches and he watches you, anger boiling inside of him, white-hot that makes it impossible to think and if he could, he'd grab the knife on the counter and stick it in your back but he can’t. Copper fills his mouth and he turns on his heel, the bedroom door slamming behind him, loud enough that he can hear your yelp and loud enough that it makes his ears ring. He wonders what the neighbors would think of it, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He’ll find an excuse, he always does.

His name is muted through the door and he rummages through the closet, pulling out a worn backpack and knocking a few clothes off the anger that he steps on. You enter the room just in time to witness him opening your drawer and throwing your things inside without a care.

“Danny?” Your voice sounds so fearful and it makes him stop for a second, and when he looks at you, your foot slides back out of the room. You’re terrified of him right now. “Danny, what are you doing?” You ask in a small voice, as you take a tentative step inside the room.

“You want to leave right?” He asks in a condescending tone, stepping closer to you with the back held tight in his hand. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll help you pack.”

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t you say that we rushed into this?” With every word he stalks towards you and he tosses the backpack onto the bed, only to miss and have it slide down, the contents inside spilling onto the floor. You look away from him and that only adds fuel to the fire that is tarnishing him from the inside. “Didn’t you?” He shouts, slapping his hand on the dresses, rattling your bottles of perfume and creams. He stares at you, his nostrils flared and jaw tight as he tries to keep a sense of composure. “Did you or did you not?” He asks, his voice eerily calm as he lets his nails drag along the wall. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry, Dan,” you cry, your eyes spilling over with tears. “I wasn’t thinking. Please, I promise, it was just a long day and I’m sorry.”

You’re pathetic and not in the way that he wants you. He turns around and you grab his arm, latching yourself around his forearm. His name is on your tongue and before you have a chance to finish it, he turns around, his hand raised, and mouth pulled into an ugly snarl. You let go of him immediately and try to shield yourself, but he aims for the wall instead. His palm stings and you let out a choked sob.

He can’t think. Not with you here. Not with his emotions running so high. Not when his palm stings and there’s something dark brooding inside of him. He takes a deep breath and he forces himself to look at you. You stare up at him with worry creasing your features.

“It's okay,” his words are still tense, but your body lowers its defenses slightly, and he knows he’s on the right track. “I was angry.” He pulls his hand away from the wall and rubs it with his other, the palm of his hand a light shade of pink. “Why don’t we have dinner, huh?” He tries to give you a charming smile, but it falls flat. “We’ll talk about it over dinner. You know-” he reaches for your hand and grabs it in both of his- “like couple’s therapy or some shit. How does that sound?”

You break away from his gaze, glancing at the floor, and he knows your habits and tics by now. You’ll scan the floor, and look up at him and smile and nod. You play your part so well, and if he had to be honest with himself, he can’t lose that. Not yet. Not when you’re so dependent on him and him on you. He waits for our smile, to give you his own to show that he’s okay, that his anger has subsided for now, but you never give him that. Your mouth parts open and there are tears in your eyes, your hand shakes and grows clammy in his. He calls your name, but you don’t respond. Your breath is ragged, sharp inhales and shaky exhales, and he follows your gaze to the floor under the bed.

In the corner of his eye, he spots white and his nails dig into your skin. “Go get me a beer, I’ll-” he looks down at you and your eyes are stuck, glued to the floor where you can see the face that has haunted you- “I’ll clean up, okay? Just give me a moment.” It isn’t enough, you’re still looking where the mask lays, the bottom half of the face peeking from under your undergarments. Your mouth opens in a silent question and when you look back at him, you’re scanning his face. His body runs hot, his mouth going dry and he says the only thing that can come to mind. “I told you I wanted to try roleplay.”

“I thought you were,” you hesitate, and your tongue peeks to wet your lips, “I thought you were kidding,” you say breathlessly, your words slow as if you were hypnotized and the truth of the matter is, is that you are. You’re ruined by the mask that lies on the floor, the mouth of it the only thing that you can see. You peel away from him and have your back turned to him, your arms coming up to give yourself a hug. “I’ll go get you a beer,” you say in a daze, and when you turn back, your smile is weak, and you can’t look at him for long, your eyes magnetized to the mask on the floor.

He’s left alone in the room, his nails digging into the palm of his hands and red in his vision. The worst part of it all is that he can’t go out tonight. Not when you saw his mask. You’re naïve, and easily spooked, but even you could put two and two together. Even your suspicions would start to rise as you questioned why there was a murder the night he went out. Why Ghostface hasn’t come back for you. You’d suspect him and he can’t have that, not when you’re already so fearful of him.

[yanderenightmare]

Hi I have no idea if requests are open, but how would our yandere boys (of your choosing) react when their come home to their pets wearing their hero/villain outfits? I know many of them would be amused, but I feel since they're each a different type of yandere they'd have a various dark thoughts.

yandere ! BNHA thirsts

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, profanity, dumbification, condescension, degradation, FLUFF, obsession

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

She looks like a little ninja in that mask. She wasn’t able to put any of the other things on because of the sheer size of them compared to her. She wouldn’t really ever call herself petite, given she’s a clumsy mess, but standing next to Bakugo, it’s safe to say she felt like a mouse next to a bear. And though she was standing in his great big boots, swimming in them, the mask was the only thing that fit. Resulting in her standing there, in her underwear, in his massive black heavy combat-boots and his menacing black mask.

Scratch the first note. She looked, briefly, like a ninja in that mask, but as she noticed him lurking in the threshold of the door, she made the mistake of trying to jump like the skittish bunny she is, her feet caught in the trap of his shoes and tripping before she could catch herself, all graceless and clumsy and not at all like any ninja. No worries though, seeing how Katsuki’s quick on his feet, she was never even close to hitting the floor before she was hugged tightly to his chest.

He’s amused, it’s the first thing she notices, that great big sun-swallowing grin stretched on his face, the gleaming glint in his eyes, so bright she’s forced to giggle in her unbalanced yet secured embrace. She looks like a little rookie sidekick, in desperate need to learn a thing or two from him, or an amateur cat-burglar who thought she could poach one or two things from him, caught red-handed, trapped. He can already feel his dick perking, twitching in his sweats, growing warm and heavy just at the sight of her stupid giddy smile. She’s only wearing his fucking mask, but holy fuck, why does she have to be so fucking cute all the goddamn time?

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

She doesn’t often think about how much bigger Keigo is than her. Sure, she knows it, he’s bigger, taller, stronger, faster, but they’re not facts he opts to make abundantly clear. Keigo is like a child more often than not, he’s ridiculous, pouty, petty, always pulling pranks, cracking jokes through sarcasm and a sly smile, where other times he’s just a horny spaz. He’s not really one to exert dominance, not really a personality that screams alpha. Yet, as she treads on his suede flight jacket, she realizes just how small she is in comparison to his lean frame.

They were fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around her to dry, Keigo still in front of the mirror fixing his hair to look neatly disheveled, but as she stepped out, leaving Keigo to his vain antics in the bathroom, she caught eye of something that would be way more comfortable than her towel. The fur was stupid soft, and warm, and smelt so undeniably like Keigo, and felt really nice against her sensitive ripe raw skin after having been taken by her wild animal in the shower for hours.

She was so lost with her eyes closed, holding onto the feeling of the softness wrapped around her to even notice Keigo leaning in the threshold of the bathroom-door. His deep chuckle brought her back to reality fast enough though. Drowsy blissed eyes looking to his amused ones, smile stretched into a toothy smirk at the sight of her cuddling with his hero-jacket. She shouldn’t be surprised to find herself tackled to the bed. He had a towel wrapped around his torso, but it fell to the ground in the tackle, naked body pressed against her nude frame, warm flesh and the softness of the fur, his darling giggling at his absurdity as he peppers kisses down the valley between her breasts.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Seeing her in that bunny-mask alone is enough to spark an obsession, no mind to the boots and gloves. The hero-costume is supposed to act disarming to the public, given how bunnies are a sign of good-luck and seem cuddly and cute and not at all like they could have your skin and flesh ripped from your bones with the mere flick of a wrist. But his darling is just that, isn’t she? A harmless little ball of sweet precious softness. This brittle breakable dainty little thing, flimsy and frail and feeble and all his. Safe to say he fucked her stupid that night, had her seated on his lap, hopping up and down the length of his cock like a precious little bunny for hours.

He doesn’t care much for the rest of the outfit, but he does take it upon himself to buy a series of other bunny-inspired accessories. Cute ears in all shapes, both large and pointy, and short and strutting, as well as long floppy ones. She looks so precious, what with that adorable fluffy pompom tail behind her, so chaste and innocent looking despite the sheer lace and mesh of the lingerie, leaving all her tender bits on display for him. Especially cute with those fluffy handcuffs around her wrists, and that slightly anxious look on her face as he completes the outfit with a collar around her throat and a leash trailing to his hand.

His little pet, she looks like such a playboy picture, placed so perfectly on his bed, large pillows placed around her, other bunnies in the form of stuffed animals, such a pristine cotton-flavored pastel-hued paradise, all for him to destroy with those hands of his and those teeth and that dirty depraved mind.

CHISAKI KAI – OVERHAUL

He doesn’t usually appreciate being made fun of, but when his darling clasped on his plague-mask, opting to intimidate him with the most calculating stare she could manage, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. And when she drummed her white-gloved-fingers up his chest, climbing to sit in his lap, eyes still holding his gaze with a witch’s spell, her voice the most ominous rust she could muster, telling him how she could destroy him with one mere measly touch, mocking him so much so he didn’t need to see under the mask to know how wide she’s smirking, he’s livid with thrill, only barely holding himself together, hanging onto every single movement she made.

He hadn’t known he was such a narcissist, but he had to admit seeing his darling in his moss-green bomber-jacket, large enough to reach under her ass, hiding her body like a tease with indigo-fur splayed thickly around her shoulders and up around her ears, nestling her head that had his mask protruding like a bird-beak out towards him, that tantalizing look in her eyes, it was turning him on, madly so, he could barely sit down as her hands, clad in his surgical gloves, danced up to undo the zipper to the jacket in one agonizingly slow movement, only to reveal she wasn’t wearing anything but his white tie. He was about to lose it.

He pounces, like a vulture, mask thrown to some unknown corner of the room, her body pressed firmly into the mattress, tie used as a collar and leash as he presses his firm lips into her pillowy ones, kissing with desperation, with hunger, with need. Hands so harsh in their worship, grabbing onto her, pushing her knees apart, granting access to the tempel between her legs, where he can plant even more kisses.

AIZAWA SHOTA - ERASURHEAD

He’s seen her tangled up in his scarf more times than he’s seen her with clothes on, but as a capture-weapon it’s been unwillingly and meant to immobilize and secure her more than comfort her. Most times she’d whine when being handicapped by the tight bondage, looking like a kitten who’s managed to tangle herself up in a ball of yarn, but now she’s wrapping it around her naked body like a blanket, cuddling with the tresses, head sunken inside the nest laid thickly around her shoulders, hanging off and falling around her bare arms and breasts.

It reminds him of Halloween. A poor attempt at trying to look scary, wrapping herself in like a mummy, or trying to pass as some wraith, or as though having bandaged cuts and bruises, meant to look so scary but not at all able to hide how she’s simply a small adorable little soft cuddly kitten, incapable of achieving anything remotely scary-looking. He scoffs and grins as he looks down at her, needing to touch what ridiculous display she’s conjured and intertwined herself in.

She threw her head back with a strange smile on her face, trying to imitate him, stopping him in his pursuit of grabbing her as he had to slap his face with a groan, a smile forcing itself up on his own face at the feel of his heart warming, throbbing, in his chest, butterflies causing a ruckus in his stomach. How he wished he could digest those feelings, stomach acid melting the wings of those bothersome insects. He doesn’t have the time for such pleasantries, but his darling doesn’t seem to mind being a distraction whatsoever. She should know... there are consequences for being such a little tease.

[hanibalistic]

#5B52AD | NA JAEMIN. NCT DREAM.

genre | fluff, friendship

word count | 2835

warning | a fever, mention of pain

note | i got kind of sick after my first dose of vaccine and i think about is my mother used to sit and rub my tummy whenever i get tummy ache even when it’s 3am.

your body felt heavy, you could not walk without an awkward arch of your back and at an annoyingly slow pace. you haven't gotten a migraine in so long that the gentle ringing in the back of your head now felt like a gradual decomposing of your brain. your tummy gurgled obnoxiously from time to time, confusing your body and mind with hunger and pain.

long story short, you were sick. you got sick, unfortunately, after a streak of good health for the past years, and you barely knew how to take care of yourself now because of how unusual the occurrence was.

you suspected it was the pouring rain you walked under the other day, or the multiple cold nights you've stood through in the unorganized tent area backstage during award shows this past few weeks. either way, since there weren't any other possible reasons, bad weather was the only thing you could blame your sickness on.

you had contacted the team manager about taking a few days off, leisurely estimating your return date while the manager told you to take your time and make sure to only work once you have fully recovered to avoid spreading your sudden fever to the dreamies when you get back. another thing you also asked of, with more grit and firmness this time, was to make sure the manager leak not a single word of you being sick to the boys.

it was true that you have not been sick in a long while, but so far you have gotten a grip on how it works and adapted to being uncomfortable and alone. reminding yourself to take those over-the-counter medicines was annoying but doable. moving around the apartment so you could cook and clean was exhausting but also doable. you did not need an extra pair of hands; it would definitely be good to have one, but you could survive without one.

you knew very well if the boys knew that you caught a fever, they would insist on visiting and taking care of you.

they would probably try to pull up to your apartment with some homemade soup and old movie discs, rambling on and on about sneaking out and forcing the driver to come to your apartment estate, complaining about you keeping everything a secret from your friends. then they'd get unreasonably mad at you for not visiting a doctor, and they'd force you to stay in bed while promising to take care of everything. they would be loud, and destructive, and annoying and—ugh! everything you do not need when you have a fever burning on your head!

"oh, finally!" you groaned in tired delight when you heard the doorbell ring. you have been waiting on the jajangmyeon takeout you ordered about fifteen damn minutes ago (to be fair, it felt like two hours with that migraine in your head).

shaking the shiver off your back when you stood on the cold wooden tiles with your bare feet, you grimaced at the pair of fuzzy socks you previously pulled off out of spontaneity, not wanting to bend down to get them from the ground. you stepped on then as you moved begrudgingly from the messy couch, where your blanket and tons of pillows resided, to the front door.

you unlocked your door with some trouble, finding it hard to stand on your legs and twist the lock. when you slowly swung open the door, you muttered, "sorry for the delay, it's kind of hard to–huh."

you cut yourself off when you saw the sight of renjun handing cash to your delivery man and patting him on the back as he bowed and left your house with your jajangmyeon. your eyes pulled back to look at the bigger picture—four people present before your apartment door, all wearing the same reaction to your figure uncared for.

renjun has turned his attention back from your delivery man and his grimace deepened when he saw your red face. donghyuck pulled a face at you when he saw your terrible posture and dead expression, and he tightened his grip on the small bag in his hand. jeno was frowning in disapproval with one brow raised as if you were spreading the bacteria to him but he was too polite to cover himself up. jaemin looked like he didn't want to be here, like always, but for a moment you saw his eyes flicker with soft concern over your visibly sick posture.

you sneered. that bastard! the manager snitched on you and here came the power rangers of the 2000s judging you at your front door! you would not take this absurdity!

"goodbye," you muttered blandly before you went ahead to close the door on their faces, but a hand swiftly reached out and blocked the door frame from meeting its end.

jeno smiled casually at you from the side, his arm muscle flexing as he, with no effort against your sickened strength, pushed the door open. you attempted to struggle against him, but obviously you were of no match for him, riddled with a fever or not.

"lee jeno," you warned.

"[full name]," he returned.

you clicked your tongue. you were too dizzy to get angry, but the rumbling inside your chest sounded anyway so you wouldn't be so overwhelmed by the boys' relentless care that you forget you didn't like this nor want this, that this wasn't ideal for you.

"please leave," you asked. "i don't need help."

"no. we're coming in whether you like it or not, [name], so give it up," donghyuck mentioned as he gently brushed past you into the apartment. "and before you ask–no, we are not leaving. we got our phones, and we brought movies. we also have to take care of you, so we got plenty to do here. we won't get bored."

you rolled your eyes as the rest of the boys followed behind. kicking their shoes off and placing them neatly to the side, they slowly began acting as if they were back in their humble abode.

donghyuck headed over to the coffee table before your couch. he grimaced at the sight of falling blankets and unorganized pillows as he placed the bag on the surface, then he turned to renjun, "renjun, where do we put the soup?"

"not on the coffee table, take it to the kitchen!" renjun exclaimed as he pointed aimlessly at a spot.

donghyuck listened. as he made his way to your open kitchen, he began rambling off. "you know, i can't believe you didn't tell us you were sick. i knew something was up when you were absent for more than a day!"

renjun nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms, looking to you with a semi-displeased expression. "he is right. we are all friends here, you should tell us if you need some help."

just having them around your apartment was enough to make you want to jump out the window. it was nothing personal against the boys, though. you would have felt the same with just about anybody who dared enter your territory when you felt uncomfortable. but the way they never stop talking—ugh, it made you want to end it altogether so you didn't have to listen to their voices overlap each other in such annoying frequency.

"if i needed help, i would have asked," you dragged out through gritted teeth.

donghyuck snickered from the sink, rolling his sleeves up and getting ready to do the unclean dishes. "oh yeah, that's why you have no clean bowl and spoon to use!"

"also, why are all your stuff here on the couch, [name]?" jeno complained as he picked up your heavy blankets in his arms. he popped his head out from the side and eyed you. "i'll take them back to your room, you should stay in bed!"

jaemin leisurely approached the coffee table, his face was bland with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. despite acting like he didn't want to be here, his curiosity to know whether you were doing well alone was killing him inside; you weren't, it appeared. he gazed around your apartment with feign disinterest before an opened box caught his eyes.

bending down to pick up the medicine, he furrowed his brows and turned to you. "these aren't doctor prescribed medicine."

ignoring the drowsiness in your eyes, you looked at the displeasure on jaemin's face before you sighed, "i didn't see a doctor."

"you what?" jaemin exclaimed in disbelief while the rest of the boys gasped in what sounded to be disapproval.

there it went. there came the wave of complaints and disagreement piling out of their mouths like rainwater flooding into the ditch. the migraine in your head magnified the more frustration built up inside you, trying to force you to explode on the boys who only meant well.

"yes, i didn't visit a doctor. stop making a big deal out of it," you retorted, straining your voice to make yourself heard. "do you know how expensive an appointment at the clinic is?"

"still! it's always better to visit a doctor!" renjun pointed out softly.

the others agreed with him like dominos, opinions falling on top of each other in the form of noises. you closed your eyes in hopes to cancel their presence, but they've been talking nonstop it felt impossible to ignore them.

their voices were adding to your nausea, too many words to understand and to process that you felt useless not being able to retain their words as quickly as usual. it made you want to vomit, it made your chest tighten, it made your tummy hurt.

"god... please... shut up," you muttered under your breath as you glared at the floor. "shut up... stop talking... stop talking!"

the heat burst.

"[name]..." jaemin began cautiously, dropping the empty box of pills on the table as he eyed you sturdily.

you grimaced; your lips quirking down in guilt and your eyes darting elsewhere but their faces. seeing their innocent, good-intentioned, widened eyes would just make you feel like a bad person more than anything. shaking your head, you waved your hand at them dismissively and proceeded to turn away.

"thank you for coming, but please leave because i don't need your help," you said, "i'm gonna go to bed. lock the door when you leave."

the boys watched you move back to your room slowly, still surprised at your sudden outburst. they half-expected something like this to happen, but not exactly the way it turned out. they did come here fully prepared to be kicked out kindly knowing well your inability to accept aid from others, but the event has taken a turn for even worse, it seemed. they had not expected you to yell at them.

donghyuck turned away from the sink, his confused gaze darting between the door to your bedroom and the rest of his friends. "we're not actually leaving, right?"

"no, but we will leave them alone," jeno mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. "for now, at least."

jaemin's eyes trailed after your steps and they have yet to tear themselves away from your bedroom door.

he knew you well, better than the rest of his friends if he could say so. even though you might have meant what you said, you wouldn't do anything if they refuse to listen. and the consequences of adhering to your request and leaving you alone when you just did something you didn't want to would outweigh those of them not listening to you.

you don't need help, you never ask for them, whatever reason that was. but you do want them when they were presented to you. he knew that much, at least.

"jaemin, where are you going?" jeno asked when he saw his friend shuffling across the small living room.

nobody talked when jaemin moved to your room and knocked on your door. he pushed it open without waiting for your permission, and the stifled cries stayed beneath the walls unknown to the outsiders. he softened at the sight of you helplessly rubbing your tears with your forearm, wanting nothing more than to coddle you, but he leaned against the door instead.

"feeling bad now, are we?" jaemin said to catch your attention.

your head hurt, the pain was piercing. but nothing shattered you more than realizing you were a bad person for refusing help from good people who cared about you, realizing the mortifying cycle of loneliness you cannot thrust yourself out of because you could not accept any form of good social interaction. you were never one to cry from those whimsical things, you were used to it, but the thought of your friends shuffling out of your apartment and leaving the area dead cold made you cry.

you still have them now, but for how long, really? how many more "leave me alone" and "i don't want your help" would they take until they truly leave you alone for good?

you sobbed out breathlessly, your words continuously getting cut off against your will. eventually, you made out a sentence.

"jae-jaemin, my head hurts."

like a sharp shot through his heart, jaemin wavered and crumbled. he wasn't sure if this kind of melting was good, but he was taking the ache along with him. he approached you swiftly and sat down on the edge of your bed, a spoiled gaze dawning within his eyes while he moved his hand to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and messaging your scalp.

"try going to sleep, it'll help," he coaxed.

the more you cried, the more he sunk himself onto your bed. he kept his head high up against the headboard of your bed, and he let you snuggle close against his side for comfort. your head hastily leaned against his chest, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to focus on the rhythm of which he scratched your head dotingly.

"shhh, it's okay," he hushed, reaching his free arm over you to pat your back. "it's going to be okay."

jaemin was always so kind. everyone was always so kind. with their homemade soup, their refusal to abandon you at a tough spot, their snark remarks against your constant attacks, their nagging and coaxing—they were your friends.

you never knew why it took so much effort to get it into your head that they were going to be here whether you wanted them to or not. when you pushed them away, they would push back ten times harder, however many times they needed to. they knew you hated blatant affection so they never show it, nor do they make you show it, but it was here. flowing between their heads was love, discreet love, love that sat in patience, understanding, and stubbornness.

you pack a mean punch, but they could take it.

"jaemin... how are they doing?"

jaemin looked up from your sleeping face to find donghyuck at the door. his hands were wet from messing around in the kitchen, and he wiped them clean on his pants as he quietly approached the bed to take a peek at you. he raised his brow when he saw your face smushed against jaemin's chest and hidden under your arm, then he signed.

sleeping, huh. good. he heard you cry from outside a while ago, everyone did. nobody said anything about it and the living rooms were hushed quieter until your sobs gradually calmed down.

"are you going to stay here?" donghyuck asked after he pulled away. "you might get sick."

"yeah," jaemin nodded down at you, "i might."

donghyuck pursed his lips together, then he shrugged. "alright, i'll leave you then. do you want me to turn the lights off?"

"no, i don't want to fall asleep," jaemin said, stroking your head gently. then he nudged his chin toward donghyuck. "i do want my phone though."

donghyuck scoffed when he was by the door. he was only gonna turn the lights off because it would help you, so if that wasn't needed...

"interesting," he said. "i'm not your errand boy, though. you can stay bored."

jaemin held back a hiss when donghyuck ran out to the living room. he grimaced after the opened door, eyes wide in annoyance that donghyuck left the lights on and the door open, that irresponsible bastard! and he wouldn't even run to get a phone, which would only take a couple of steps!

turning his attention, he glanced down at you instead and breathed out a sigh. he wasn't going to be on his phone for long anyway, he just wanted to tell jisung and chenle you were doing okay. other than that, he has the plan to stare at you until you wake up—your scrunchy nose and closed puffy eyes were abnormally adorable, he has to admit.

"yeah, i'll get him," jaemin whispered playfully down at you. "we'll get him when you wake up."

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Four}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Getting out of the lease on her townhouse proved to be easier than Nesta had expected. Her landlord was extremely understanding, especially under the conditions. She’d lived in the same place since she was in college, had never given him any trouble. She took care of her own problems, called her own plumbers and electricians, and had always taken it upon herself to fix anything that was wrong, rather than on his dime.

He’d even gotten her a parting gift on the day she moved everything out. A beautiful bouquet of flowers, and his condolences on her family’s loss.

As it was, mostly everything was moved into a storage unit, thanks to the furniture Rhys and Feyre already had in their home. But her clothes and some select important things came with her. 

It felt strange, at first, the moment Nesta carried Nyx through the door. She had just slept there, of course, but it was different this time. 

This time, Nesta was moving in to stay. 

This was no longer Feyre and Rhysand’s house, but Nesta and Cassian’s…and it felt strange, surreal. 

A thump came from upstairs that nearly had Nesta yelping. Nyx looked up at her and her startled expression and blew a raspberry. “What was that, hmm?” Nesta asked, quietly, setting her bag down as she closed the front door with her foot. She carried Nyx up the stairs and rounded the corner to the master bedroom to find Cassian staring at the mostly empty closet with his hands on his hips. “Find something interesting in there?”

“Shit!” he cursed, spinning around to find the pair in the doorway. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Nesta said, plainly. “Especially when it’s in my room.”

Cassian’s brows shot into his hairline. “I’m sorry…your room?”

“Yes,” she said, swapping Nyx from one hip to the other. “I’ve been staying here for nearly three weeks at this point. I’ve been the one here taking care of him.”

“So that entitles you to the master bedroom?” He asked.

“It does,” she replied and Nyx began squirming. She put him down and he began crawling towards Cassian, tugging on the strings of his boots.

Cassian stooped down to pick the baby up, who instantly began patting Cassian’s face, a habit he’d picked up just before Rhys and Feyre’s accident. Cassian grinned down at him, but then he looked back to Nesta. The smile fell as he beheld Nesta watching him with her arms crossed.

Cassian sighed. “Look-.”

“No, no,” Nesta interrupted. “I’m taking this room. I need the space, and I’m a woman, so I would prefer the private bathroom.”

Cassian watched her for a long moment. “Fine.” Nesta was about to turn on her heels to get the rest of her belongings, but then Cassian continued, “But, you have to say please.”

Nesta tensed in the doorway. “What?”

“Say please and it’s yours,” he said, shrugging.

Nyx looked back and forth between Cassian and Nesta.

She blinked, staring at him.

“You heard me,” he said, leaning down to grab his backpack from where he’d dropped it on the floor. He hefted it onto his other shoulder, Nyx still staring between them. “Say please and the room is yours. And make it genuine, I want to believe you.”

“And if I don’t?” She asked, bracing herself for a fight.

He shrugged and tossed his backpack onto the bed. “Then it looks like we’re sharing. Just so you know, I’m a blanket hog.”

She narrowed her eyes, watching as he sat down on the edge of the bed, plopping Nyx down on the mattress next to him. He crawled up to the top of the bed, plopping down atop one of the pillows.

Cassian could have sworn her teeth were grinding as she said, “May I please have the bedroom?”

He smirked, asking, “Was that so hard?” and stood, grabbing his bag again, before brushing past her as he headed down the hall, taking the room across from Nyx’s nursery.

Nesta groaned, closing her eyes and sighing, before she heard the door opening downstairs.

“Hello, hello!”

She scooped Nyx up off the bed, and made her way downstairs, finding Elain, Azriel, Gwyn, Mor and Emerie in the entryway. Mor was wiggling her fingers at Nyx, and Nesta handed him over to her. He giggled as she lifted him in the air and Nesta hugged her friends. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Of course,” Emerie said, taking a look around. “You shouldn’t do this alone.”

Nesta nodded and another thump came from upstairs. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Cassian’s here already, then?” Azriel asked.

“He’s here and he’s driving me mad,” Nesta muttered. 

Azriel chuckled as he hurried up the stairs, leaving the women alone.

“Okay,” Gwyn said, propping her hands on her hips and looking around. “What do you need us to do?”

Nesta hesitated. There was so much already in this house that felt like it belonged there, so much of Rhys and Feyre that Nesta didn’t feel like she should touch.

As if she was reading her thoughts, Elain stepped forward, slipping her arm through hers. “This is your home now, too. Part of them will always be here, but you have to make it yours now.” Nesta nodded, wiping away the damn tears that kept making an appearance, but jumped slightly when a loud bang came from upstairs and Azriel and Cassian both laughed. Elain added, with a laugh of her own, “Yours and Cassian’s, I guess.”

“I wish I would stop being reminded of that fact,” Nesta said, attempting a joke as she continued to wipe at her damp cheeks. 

“Ignore Cassian?” Emerie chuckled. “That’s impossible. He likes to make himself known too much for that.”

After a chorus of laughter, Nesta was giving everyone a role. It was all just so surreal, too surreal. It was a position that Nesta would have never imagined herself to be in, especially as she opened Feyre’s closet and stared. 

Nesta had always admired Feyre’s style, even though most of her jeans had paint splatters on them. She reached up to go through the series of band tees hanging on the top rod. She chuckled at one from the Jonas Brothers concert that they’d gotten back in 2011. Nesta had taken Elain and Feyre one weekend when their dad was out of town on business. She’d bought them both t-shirts and cds and overpriced sodas from the arena’s concession stand. 

It had been a good night.

And Feyre had kept the t-shirt for ten years, even though there was a coffee stain on Nick Jonas’ face and a rip in the hem. Nesta took the shirt off the hanger and held it up. It was too small for her. It would never fit.

Nonetheless, Nesta folded the shirt neatly and put it on top of the dresser before taking down the rest of Feyre’s clothes and folding them into a bin.

She hadn’t realized the tears had returned until Emerie and Gwyn came in, the former holding a sleeping, drooling Nyx. 

Feyre’s closet had been nearly emptied. Neither of Nesta’s closest friends said a word as they entered and sat next to Nesta on the bed, one of them on each side.

Silently, they pulled Nesta into their arms.

*

Cassian looked at the broken bed frame in the guest room. 

He and Azriel started roughhousing the moment he’d come up the stairs, and it resulted in the old, rickety bed unable to hold two untamed Illyrians.

Does this mean I won?

You’ve never won in a wrestling match with me, Cass.

Looking at it now, however, Cassian was wondering how he’d take the rest apart without waking Nyx up from his afternoon nap.

“How many times have we slept in this room after a night of drinking too much?” Azriel asked.

Cassian chuckled from where he was putting his clothes in the small, empty dresser. “Too many. Feyre wouldn’t let us drive after even one drink at dinner.”

Azriel chuckled, quietly. “She always was a mother hen, long before Nyx.” 

“She had to be,” Cassian said, “look at Rhys’s choice of friends.”

Azriel grinned. “Speak for yourself.” 

He snorted. “Need I remind you of Spring Break, senior year?”

The grin fell slightly into a cringe. “Okay, maybe there are times that I fall into that category as well.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. He looked back at the bed, even the bedding somewhat in shambles. “Haven’t even lived in the house for an hour and we already broke something.”

Azriel chuckled, following his gaze. “Rhys would be proud.”

Grinning, Cassian nodded. “Feyre would have our asses.”

They worked in silence, for a while, listening to the women’s voices throughout the house.

At one point, Cassian could hear Nesta sobbing quietly from the room down the hall.

His shoulders tensed.

Azriel must have seen it, because he cleared his throat. “You know, Elain says Nesta’s not so bad.”

“And what do you think?” Cassian asked, tossing his empty duffle bag in the corner. 

Azriel was quiet for a moment then shrugged. “I’ve never had an issue with her.” Cassian huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, you never have issues with anyone.” He shook his head as he leaned back against the wall. “I feel like I’m living a dream right now. I have no idea what’s happening, and it’s all happening way too fast.”

It was happening far too quickly. Everything. All of it.

Cassian felt like he was in the middle of a hurricane, lost and alone and confused with no end in sight.

*

Everyone had left, and only the three of them remained.

Nesta, Cassian, and Nyx.

Nesta realized this is how it would be from now on, and that realization made her chuckle out of pure absurdity. 

Cassian had asked to put Nyx to bed, and Nesta didn’t argue as he took him from her, from where Nyx had fallen asleep in Nesta’s arms on the couch.

She watched them disappear up the stairs, and she wasn’t really sure what to do after that, where to go. Should she just have gone back to her room, shut herself inside, and pretend that nothing else existed?

Cassian came back down the stairs just as Nesta stood up. As he reached the bottom, they acknowledged each other, uncomfortably.

“Well,” Nesta began, nodding slowly. “I guess I’ll be going to bed.”

Cassian didn’t say anything until she had brushed past him and gone halfway up the stairs. “Don’t you think that we should, you know, set some ground rules?”

She paused. “Like what?”

“Like who takes care of what?” He asked. “Who gets what nights off and-?”

“Nights off?” Nesta asked, blinking. “We have to take care of a child, Cassian. We don’t get nights off.”

“You know Az and Elain still go out once in a while. As long as one of us is here to watch him, he’s taken care of,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I would like to be able to go out on a Saturday night, with Az and Luce, so-.”

“Why would you get Saturday night?” She asked, her eyes widening. “I spend all day at the restaurant, all week long. If anyone gets Saturdays, it’s me. Besides, you’re a bartender, shouldn’t you be working those nights?”

“Friday nights are my money nights, so no, I’ll be off,” he said, crossing his arms. His legs widened slightly, and Nesta knew a fighting stance when she saw one.

“So I’m supposed to take Friday nights? How’s that going to work, if you’re at the bar, Cassian?” Cassian hesitated, and Nesta scoffed. “See? That won’t work.”

“You can take Sunday nights,” Cassian said, at last.

“The night before I have to wake up at five to be at the restaurant by six?” Nesta asked. “Oh, thank you so much for that kindness.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Your sarcasm isn’t necessary. And two minutes ago you thought the idea of a night off was ridiculous, anyway!”

“Well, if you get a night off, so do I!” Nesta yelled.

Cassian raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fine. How about we switch saturdays? You get two Saturday’s a month, and I get two Saturday’s a month.”

She clamped her mouth shut, fighting the urge to grind her teeth together. “Fine.”

He nodded. “Fine.”

They both stayed where they were, not moving or giving up an inch of ground.

“I’m going to go to bed then,” she said, the bite still in her voice.

“Goodnight then,” he said, and though the words were civil, they were still sharp. It was almost humorous.

“Goodnight.” With that, she turned and was stomping up the stairs.

She could feel Cassian’s eyes on her and she disappeared.

The audacity. 

She was fully aware that Cassian was full of himself, but wanting every Saturday night off?

She knew it.

He wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t ready for the responsibility of raising a child. She couldn’t expect him to be, though. Shit, she wasn’t ready, either. The only difference was that she was starting to learn all that being a guardian entailed and he surely was not.

She shut the bedroom door behind her, and considered locking it, but decided not to and looked at the clock.

it was barely eight-thirty, but she was exhausted. That had been the past few weeks though, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been awake at ten o’clock. She leaned against the shut door, letting her head fall back.

If she listened hard enough, she could hear him moving downstairs. Heard the fridge open and knew he was pulling one of Rhysand’s beers out. Nesta sighed, wishing she had thought to get at least a glass of wine before she’d shut herself in here.

If she went back out now, she’d look stupid. And she’d have to talk to Cassian again.

Not over her dead body.

So she did the next best thing, filling the massive garden tub in the corner of the bathroom, and settled into it. She sighed, letting the hot water seep into her bones.

And then there was a knock on the bedroom door.

She sunk deeper in the tub. “What?” She called, eyeing the open bathroom door.

There was a pause. “Is it time for Nyx’s bedtime bottle?”

Nyx was cut down to two bottles a day: one in the morning and one at night. Although he had been getting breast milk before the accident, Nesta had already worked through the remaining breast milk that had been in the freezer.

That morning had been his first formula bottle.

He’d been confused at first. Surely there was a difference in taste. However, Nyx eventually realized he wasn’t getting anything else and drank it down, anyway. 

“Was he fussing?” Nesta asked.

There was a thump against the door and Nesta assumed Cassian had fallen into it. “Yeah. Wasn’t crying, but he was about to.”

“Yeah. Formula is on the counter in the kitchen. Check his diaper first,” Nesta said.

She didn’t hear a response, so she assumed he’d gone to handle it, when a few minutes later another knock sounded. This time it was accompanied by a frantic crying.

She was out of the tub, grabbing a towel and digging through a box she’d packed the night before for her robe. Just as Cassian started talking, she got to the door, pulling it open.

He paused, taking in her attire, or lack thereof. Nyx was still crying, which knocked him back into motion. He raised his hand, holding up an empty bottle. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-.”

She took the bottle, shaking her head, and brushing past him to head down the stairs. She didn’t snap at him, not when she knew he’d never had to prepare a bottle before. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t irritated.

“You couldn’t read the directions on the back of the box?” she asked, then muttered. “Just like a man.”

When she looked back over her shoulder, Cassian was close behind, Nyx tugging on the end of his shaggy hair as he wailed. If he heard Nesta, he didn’t deign to reply. 

Nesta sighed, carrying the bottle over and filling it with water from a newly opened jug on the counter. “You don’t have to warm it up anymore. He can drink it with room temperature water. It’s pretty easy. Fill it up to the eight ounce mark on the bottle, measure four scoops of formula and dump them in.” She did just that, measuring out each scoop carefully but quickly. “Then shake.” She handed the bottle to Cassian, who started shaking the bottle.

“How long do I shake?” he asked.

Nesta almost wanted to laugh at how frantic, how wild-eyed he looked. Here was Cassian Nazari, shaking a bottle with a screaming baby on his hip. “That’s good. Just give it to the poor kid.” 

Nyx snatched it from Cassian as he lowered it towards his face, holding it on his own. Cassian’s hand hovered close by and he looked up at her. “Can he do that? I mean, should I let him? Or should I hold it?”

Her face softened as she watched her nephew, his tears stopping almost immediately. “He’s fine. Maybe use a hand to support it just in case, but he can handle it.”

He nodded, looking down at the baby as well. His blue eyes were wide as he watched them, glancing from Nesta to Cassian, and back.

He said, softly, “I wonder if he realizes they aren’t coming back yet.”

The words nearly broke Nesta’s heart. Her words were as quiet as his. “ I don’t know… That’s not exactly something you can explain to a one-year-old.”

His nod was slow. “It doesn’t seem fair. They didn’t deserve this.”

Nesta’s throat was tight as she started back toward the stairs. “Life isn’t always fair, Cass. The Cauldron isn’t always fair.”

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Fifteen

⚠WARNING: Mention of previous character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You set your phone down and look at Oikawa’s prone body lying next to you.

Once you returned to your apartment Oikawa was 99% asleep - you’re really not sure how he was able to put one foot in front of the other, but he did. You were going to deposit him into your bed but Oikawa was clinging to you like an octopus. So instead you let gravity do the work and you both had fallen backwards onto your comforter and pillows.

Oikawa didn’t even bother moving to get underneath the blankets before he properly fell asleep, mouth open and everything. He remained clutched to your arms, and you were helpless to try and escape from under him.

Ever since they were children, Oikawa always had to cling to someone and he’d be especially clingy when he was upset (which given today wasn’t surprising that you couldn’t pry yourself from his grip.) Since you, Oikawa and Hajime all lived in the same neighborhood since elementary, you had frequent sleepovers at each other’s homes. And sure enough, every time Oikawa would subconsciously choose you or Hajime to cling to while sleeping.

Hajime absolutely hated it but you didn’t mind.

Watching your friend sleep you can't help but give a sad little smile. He looks peaceful and so young in sleep. You know he’s the furthest from innocent right now, and he has a lot of work ahead of him to fully earn your trust back. But you wish that he wasn’t tortured with the troubles that plague you all.

A knock at the door makes you sit up. Oikawa’s face pinches at the motion, and you speak to him. “Mattsun and Makki are here, but you can sleep if you want.”

His reply is a sleepy grumble but he too sits up. You know that despite him only getting a few hours of sleep he won’t want to be left alone in your room. Together, with Oikawa leaning on you, you walk to the door and let in your friends. Mattsun raises his eyebrows at the sight of a clingy and exhausted Oikawa hanging off your frame but you just shrug. Makki seems to take pity on you as he drags Oikawa off and over to the couch, handing his coat off to Mattsun to hang up.

“Thanks for coming over,” you tell Mattsun. “I’m gonna put the kettle on and order some lunch.”

Mattsun nods. “Whatever you need to do.” He gives you a small smile and leaves you in the apartment entrance. You can recognize that he’s giving you space and letting you set the boundaries for the conversation to follow, and you appreciate his tact.

After you order the take out and make tea you enter your living room and see Makki and Mattsun sharing your couch. Oikawa is slumped in your armchair, eyelids drooping as he tries to stay away.

“Oikawa you can go back to sleep if you want.” You offer after setting down the tray with tea. He shakes his head at you as you pass out mugs but doesn’t verbalize.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” You settle on the ground by the coffee table, choosing to face your friends instead of sitting next to them. It’s quiet for a few minutes while everyone relaxes in their seats and sips the jasmine tea you’ve made. There’s a tangible tension in the air, stemming from the second Oikawa opened his mouth at the restaurant last night to this very moment. Mattsun and Makki are waiting for you to initiate, for in their eyes you were ready to tear Oikawa limb from limb yesterday and today you greeted them at the door with your tall friend clinging to you.

Plus there's the whole you loving Hajime thing that should be addressed.

You know that your friends would never, ever push you to discuss it. But they’re probably wondering why they weren’t privy to the info, why Oikawa was, and if you don’t trust them or something. The last thing you want is to make your friends doubt the relationship you have with them, so you’re ready to clear the air and address the elephant in the room.

“I love Hajime.” You say. Everyone looks up from their tea to you. “I’ve been in love with him since the first year of high school, I think.”

Predictably, you’re met with matching sad looks. But even though you knew it was coming, you still can’t squirm uncomfortably at the pity you feel coming from them. This was exactly why you didn’t want anyone to know, especially now.

“Were you ever going to tell him?” Mattsun asks quietly.

You shrug, both at his question and the uneasiness settling in your gut “I didn’t feel like I needed to at the time. We were still in high school, still living life. I was happy with our friendship and I didn’t think anything more.” You smile ruefully. “If anything I think I was more worried about not being friends with him anymore if a confession went south.

“Honestly, I didn’t think that there would be a day that I wouldn’t be able to tell him how I felt. Even if I grew out of those feelings, part of me thought I’d be able to confess some day. I don’t regret our friendship, not when I wanted more. But I do regret not being upfront about my feelings with Hajime. He was my best friend, and I should’ve been able to tell him anything.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes and you look down at your tea. “We all have wonderful memories with Hajime, and I will never ever forget him. But it sucks, because while the memories are wonderful I can’t help but think how much better they could’ve been if I told him how I felt about him.”

You sniff, holding back your tears. You look back up and see Oikawa wiping his eyes and Makki sniffling.

Mattsun is looking at you with a serious expression. “I don’t want to go through hypotheticals or explore ‘what ifs,’ but I don’t think I’m alone in saying that Iwazumi cared for you differently than he did us. And I don’t think it was because you were best friends growing up with Oikawa, because he hated Oikawa.”

“Hey!” Oikawa pipes up from his spot, but there’s no real heat behind it.

Mattsun shifts, clearing his throat. When he speaks again his voice is rough with emotion. “You were precious to him, and his actions reflected how much he cared for you.”

You recognize that Mattsun is not outright saying the L-word but his careful alluding makes you smile tearfully. “I know, and he’s always going to hold a special place in my heart.”

Nobody says anything to that, and the room is blanketed with silence again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Makki asks quietly, subdued. “Oikawa knew, but me and Issei didn’t.”

You sigh, your chest tight at the wounded look on Makki’s face. “I didn’t mean for Oikawa to find out. And I didn’t want to hide it because I didn’t trust you. But I just didn’t know how to bring it up, especially after Hajime passed away. I just,” you pause, sighing. “We’re all struggling, and I didn’t want you to think differently of me, or I didn’t want you to think that your feelings weren’t valid.”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s probably the best way you can explain your thoughts. You’re not sure if their feelings are stronger or lesser than yours but you don’t need to know. The varying levels of grief people feel do not need to meet a criteria to be judged. Just because you love Hajime beyond the level of friendship that Oikawa, Mattsun or Makki probably love Hajime doesn’t mean that you “win” the game of grief.

“Y/N,” Mattsun says softly. “We’re your friends, and we want you to come to us with anything. Well, anything you feel comfortable sharing, which I guess in this case you weren’t comfortable with.” Mattsun pauses, it looks like he’s struggling to pick his words. “I do feel pain for you, but mainly because you’ve been dealing with these thoughts alone. I’m sorry if we ever gave you the impression that you couldn’t talk to us.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that, I swear. I just didn’t want to burden you all.”

Mattsun sighs. “I understand, and I don’t want to push you to share anything you don’t want to. But we love Iwaizumi, and if you want to talk about him or need to talk about him, know you can always come to us.”

Makki and Oikawa nod in agreement. You feel your eyes sting again but you smile, because you have the most kind and generous friends you could ask for. Hindsight is 20/20, but your heart does feel lighter knowing that your friends won’t ostracize you or anything because you love Hajime.

“We should’ve known that Oikawa would’ve just confronted Y/N straight on, he’s always been a jerk like that.” Makki says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

But instead of squawking in protest or complaining dramatically, Oikawa nods. “Yeah, I’m an asshole.”

Makki’s smile instantly shifts into an uncomfortable frown. “Oikawa, I was just joking -”

“But you’re right.” Oikawa cuts him off firmly. “And I’ve been even worse the past few months. I haven’t been taking care of myself like I should, and I’m sorry taking my frustrations out on you guys.” He takes in a breath. “I’m going to take a break from volleyball so I can make time for my therapy sessions.”

You, Mattsun and Makki all share the same look of surprise. “Oikawa, are you sure?” You can’t help but think back to Oikawa’s reason for not wanting to quit volleyball, and part of you feels guilty for suggesting he take away the strong connection he had to Hajime.

But Oikawa gives you a weak smile. “If Iwa-chan were here, he would call me a dumbass for not taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, he’d probably call you a dumbass and throw a volleyball at your head.” Makki adds. Oikawa squawks at the tease, making everyone in the room laugh.

You smile as you watch Oikawa snap back at Makki, with Mattsun egging them both on. They fall into a routine they’ve established since high school. The one missing component - Hajime either ignoring Oikawa’s calls for backup or sharing comistering looks with you - is obvious, but it doesn’t hurt as much. Your friends’ presence in your apartment fills you with warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket at the end of a hard day.

A knock at the door disrupts your thoughts and you stand to grab the takeout. Mattsun goes to the kitchen to grab plates and utensils, while Oikawa and Makki continue to squabble in the living room. You and Mattsun return to the living room at the same time, causing Makki and Oikawa to call a truce and grab food. There’s a comfortable silence in your apartment as you all fill your plates and settle. As you dig in, an errant thought comes to your mind.

“Oikawa, how do you know where Osamu lives?”

Oikawa speaks around the noodles shoved in his mouth. “I have a fan who works in the registrar’s office and it wasn’t hard to bribe her to look it up.”

“Yeah, that’s something we haven’t talked about yet.” Makki notes, looking right at you.

You avoid his gaze. “About Oikawa’s fans? Yes, it’s ridiculous how crazy they are.”

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”

You glance up, sighing at the looks of intrigue on Makki and Mattsun’s faces. “I was upset last night, and I left my keys at his place. He let me stay because I was upset. We’re just friends.”

Mattsun purses his lips at you, but Makki has a thoughtful look.

“Well, he’s pretty cute. If Mattsun ever gets tired of me I might have to give him a call.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. You know you’re just playing into his trap, and hell would have to freeze over before Mattsun and Makki broke up but you couldn’t even hold back your distaste at the idea.

The smirk on Makki’s face only grows. “Oh, is Osamu into possessiveness?”

“Excuse me?” You ask darkly.

“He said you were possessive.” Oikawa helpfully supplies with his mouth full of food. You’re about to yell at him for manners when Mattsun speaks up.

“You’re different around him.”

Uh oh, he’s using the same voice he used earlier when talking about Hajime and you. He’s not teasing you.

“Different how?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Different, like how you acted around Iwaizumi.”

His observation is met with silence, Makki glancing at Mattsun nervously and Oikawa gazing directly at you.

“Do you like Osamu-kun?” Oikawa asks.

“Wow, yet again Oikawa is not scared to ask the hard questions!” Your attempts at deflection do not go well, as Mattsun serves you an intense look.

“Do you like him?”

You push back, rolling your eyes. “I think you guys know more than anyone that I’m in no state to be in a relationship right now.”

“That’s not what we’re asking.” Oikawa replies. He’s still staring at you, but it’s not a mean look on his face. Neither Mattsun nor Makki are looking at you meanly either, but all three of your friends’ eyes bore into you. Oikawa speaks up again. “Do you feel differently about Osamu compared to me, Mattsun and Makki?”

Your first instinct is to say no because you do see him as you see your friends. You think of all of the conversations you’ve both had about school and classes. And you think of all the stories you’ve shared about growing up in Sendai and your likes, dislikes.

You would even say that you and Osamu are best friends, given how much you’ve relied on him when it comes to dealing with Iwaizumi. A twinge of guilt twists in your stomach as you worry that maybe you rely on him too much. He has his own burdens to carry.

But at the end of the day, you just know that he’d be there for you. And he’s shown time and time again that he will be there for a late night phone call or a shoulder to cry on.

Even those late night text conversations when you’re too scared to fall asleep. Or how the way he supports is different to Makki, Mattsun and Oikawa.

But why? Why is it different?

Is it because he didn’t know the Y/N you were when you were younger? He didn’t know the Y/N that existed before high school?

He doesn’t know you from before Hajime died. He’s seen this raw, broken-down version of you. And he still wants to talk to you. He still wants to hang out and get coffee and be with you.

And in return, you know this raw, broken-down version of Osamu. Honestly, you could care less if the Osamu you never knew was the richest man in the world, or the smartest man alive. The Osamu now has been shaped and has grown from every experience he’s lived, the good and the bad. And everytime you talk you find out more about him that draws you in more. You’re never going to be satisfied until you find out everything about him. You’re not sure if it’s obsession or infatuation, but every little fact you unearth brings you a joy that you haven’t felt in some time.

You revel in the small expressions he shows around you and your ability to decipher his mood based on those looks. You shine when he focuses on you, his intense gaze indicating that he’s giving you his full attention on you and only you.

You felt safe with the strong arm around your shoulders when you felt like breaking. You felt comforted when he wiped your tears from your face.

You felt loved.

You look up at your friends, amazed.

“Oh my god, I think I like Osamu.”

The boys nod their head at you, none of them surprised by your revelation. You look down at your full plate, appetite long gone. You honestly can’t believe you’ve been so blind. Looking back it was so OBVIOUS that you’ve had feelings for Osamu for a long time.

Another thought crosses your mind, much more displeasing than your realizing your feelings for Osamu. “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship though.”

The boys nod at you again. This time Oikawa isn’t able to hold back his eyes roll. “Well obviously.”

You shrink down, feeling a new level of low. There’s no way you could try to pursue a relationship with Osamu, not now. But what if he wants to? What if he returns your feelings and wants to date you? Or worse, what if he doesn’t accept your feelings and doesn’t want to be your friend anymore?

“Y/N-chan, get out of your head.” Oikawa sing-songs, and it does bring you out of your head. You look at him and frown.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Babe, you don’t have to do anything.” Makki replies.

“But I want to.” You say instantly. “I mean, I think I want to, or I should?”

“But you know that you’re not in the right headspace to pursue a relationship now.” Mattsun reminds you gently. “And making sure you’re healthy enough to give the relationship all that you can is important.”

You nod sadly, agreeing. But your face must display your disappointment, so Oikawa sets his plate down and comes to sit by you.

“Look, just take it day by day. Nothing really has to change, you just have a different outlook on your relationship with Osamu.” He grabs your hand and holds it in both of his. “Instead of looking through a plain window, you’re looking through a stained glass window, right? It’s still Osamu out there, and he’s still the same person you like and want to be with. But now your relationship with him is richer and more vibrant. Even if you can’t act on your feelings now, you still have this new and beautiful view.”

You stare at Oikawa, dumbfounded. Mattsun and Makki look equally surprised at the deep and meaningful comparison Oikawa pulled out of nowhere.

“Wow,” Makki eventually says. “I didn’t know you could be so romantic, Oikawa.”

“Excuse you, I’m very romantic!” Oikawa snaps back indignantly. “Anyway, Y/N-chan, I guarantee that Osamu will be willing to wait. He’ll be patient, especially with you.”

“What would you know about patience?” Makki asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

Oikawa snaps again wordlessly, his tone shrill. You and Mattsun laugh, and the rest of the day is filled with everyone laughing and teasing each other.

At some point you take a second to look at your friends and smile. Your lives are unimaginably hard, and Hajime missing from these get-togethers still makes your heart ache. But with Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki here to soothe the pain, you know you can get through the worst of it.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Okay, so all the cards on the table - I cried during the entire writing process with this chapter - planning it, drafting it, writing it, finalizing it AND even reviewing it. It’s not the first time I’ve had emotional reactions to my own writing, but it’s the first time it’s been such a visceral reaction. Not only is it so satisfying to see that small character growth from Oikawa, but the character growth from Y/N was oh so satisfying. She is FINALLY opening up to her friends, and they are FINALLY having a conversation that has been MONTHS in the making. She isn’t scared to suppress her feelings anymore, and she FINALLY trusts herself to open up to her friends, despite her subconscious trying to protect her from being vulnerable in front of those she cares about. If you’re reading this now, please know that there is NOTHING wrong with being open and forthcoming about your feelings. The people in your life who love you unconditionally, including me, will THANK you for it. 💖💖💖 Okay, gonna go cry again after writing this A/N LOLOLOL.

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef

[beyondthebarrier]

Starker Festivals Summer Bingo

Prompt: Didn't Know They Were Dating | Title: Rising to the Occasion | Ao3

Summary: The media seems to think that Tony and Peter are dating. In fact, so does Rhodey. And Aunt May. And the team...

Don't worry. Tony sets the story straight.

This is my first proper Starker fic so bear with me!

It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to be alone when he woke up, if he was being honest. Tony was rarely still in bed in the mornings, presumably quick to dismiss himself from the actions of the night before. Peter never minded, usually always able to find the man elbows deep in some project that he might be able to pick the genius’ brain about.

“FRI, can you start me some coffee?” Peter asked quietly, his voice a little raspy from sleep.

“Of course. Good morning, Peter.”

“Good morning, FRIDAY.”

Peter got to his feet, finding his sweatpants from the day before and Tony’s discarded Black Sabbath shirt before making his way directly to the kitchen for the promised cup of coffee. It took a few sips for him to realize that he heard voices coming from the living room - he’d assumed he was the only one in the penthouse. He recognized the second voice easily though so he wasn’t shy about heading that way.

“Look who’s awake,” Tony announced with a smile when Peter and his bedhead popped up in the open door frame. Rhodey looked his way and Peter waved around his coffee mug.

“Hope you’re here on your own accord and not because he dragged you for some nonsense, Colonel,” Peter greeted with a smirk towards the man in question.

“I’m not here for damage control this time, miraculously,” Rhodey replied easily, chuckling.

“In that case, I’ll leave you two to it. Tones, I’m gonna shower and head downstairs. It was good to see you, Colonel!”

As Peter made his way back towards the bedroom, Rhodey looked over at Tony and sighed at the look on the billionaire’s face.

“He looks good on you, Tony.”

--

“Here, May, I’ve got it,” Tony swooped in, grabbing the woman’s empty plate before she could fully get to her feet. Peter rolled his eyes but stood as well, his own empty plate in hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him,” Peter started, exasperated. “This man would rather buy new dishes than wash them at his own house and then he sits here and readily offers when we’re over here. Please, I need to know your secret. I’m tired of coffee rings in all the mugs.”

“Oh it’s easy, Peter. He’s scared of me,” Aunt May said in a faux whisper, winking at Tony before she settled on her sofa with the rest of her glass of wine as the boys worked to clean the kitchen. Tony washed while Peter absentmindedly dried and put away dishes, chatting away quietly to the older man. When Peter turned back to face the man, Tony quickly smeared soap bubbles onto Peter’s cheek, grinning. With a laugh, Peter reached into the sink, splashing the man with the water in the sink, despite the expensive suit Tony was wearing. Tony didn’t seem bothered as he grabbed the young man around the waist and pulled him in close for a hug, getting him wet as well. Peter squeaked, making Tony lean his head back in laughter before kissing Peter’s forehead and letting him go. Only Tony noticed the look that May was giving them both and he just smiled before turning back to finish cleaning.

As they left, Aunt May wrapped both men in crushing hugs to say goodbye. As Tony helped Peter into his jacket, he looked over his head at the woman, smiling.

“It’s our turn next Sunday, May. Be at the penthouse at seven.”

--

“I thought the little spider was supposed to be here? I brought ale for him to try!” Thor announced, holding up a large jug full of… well, not even Tony was eager to try the liquid sloshing around. Peter had been excited with the prospect of an alcohol that would give him the proper effects but Thor was right - Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe he’s just running late,” Tony replied with a casual shrug, even as he slid his phone out to send yet another text to the missing member of the team. It was meant to be a little game/movie night and Peter was usually the one coercing him into attending so his lack of punctuality was bothering Tony. However, it wasn’t until Natasha and Steve also pointed out Peter’s absence that Tony excused himself. They weren’t sure exactly where he was going until they saw the suit fly off from the landing deck, heading in the direction of a shitty little apartment in Queens.

When Peter didn’t answer the door, Tony let himself in with his key, calling out Peter’s name frantically. It was a studio apartment and Peter groggily sat up in bed, blinking at the man who had just rudely interrupted his sleep.

“Pete, there you are. You’re missing game night, why are you- You’re burning up, sweetheart!” Tony sat on the edge of the bed, the back of his hand pressing against Peter’s forehead.

“M’cold,” Peter mumbled, trying to wrap the blankets around himself again so he could lay down.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Not hungry..”

“Okay, you’re definitely sick,” Tony pointed out, jumping to his feet to search the kitchen for food. Peter spent so little time here now that the cabinets were practically barren. There was certainly no cans of soup or really… anything. With a wince, Tony reached for a half-empty jar of peanut butter and a spoon, heading back to the bed.

“Tones, m’not hungry,” Peter whined as he scooped peanut butter out of the jar.

“Sweetheart, you need calories. Just a little bit and some water and I’ll let you go back to sleep. Your body will kick this in no time but it needs fuel to do it,” Tony said firmly, lifting the spoon to Peter’s lips. He opened them, accepting the spoon reluctantly and smacking his lips as he tried to get the peanut butter down. Tony got up, fixing him a cup of water. Between the two of them, they painstakingly got a full eight ounces of water and four big spoonfuls of peanut butter into the enhanced man before Peter gave up, flopping back into the pillows.

“Are you going back to game night?” he asked Tony, a rather pitiful look on his face. Tony shook his head, laying down beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Go back to sleep, I’ll be right here,” he assured, running his fingers through Peter’s sweaty curls and kissing his forehead.

--

Peter had decided to leave the tower for his lunch break, the idea of a sandwich from the deli down the block on his mind all morning. It was a beautiful day and he’d been looking for an empty space on a bench when he noticed the pointing in his direction from a few people by a magazine stand. He glanced down at himself, trying to see if maybe his shirt had come untucked or he had trash trailing on his shoe but he didn’t spot anything. However, he did hear the words, ‘Tony Stark’s boyfriend’ come from someone’s mouth and his stomach immediately twisted. He couldn’t stop himself from going over to the stand, dreading the idea of seeing Tony’s smiling face on a magazine cover with some- Oh. It was him. Peter laughed, picking up the glossy booklet. They’d attended a gala on Saturday evening for SI and the photo on the cover was the two of them all dressed up and smiling at each other in front of some rose bushes. ‘Tony Stark and boyfriend, Peter Parker, Rose to the Occasion.’ Peter scoffed at the title, setting it back down and reaching for his phone. He wasn’t sure Tony would find it as amusing as he did but he was just relieved that it hadn’t been someone else on that cover.

Thankfully, Tony didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He had already known about it, getting the alert from PR hours before, and even seemed a little concerned that Peter might be upset about it.

“Do you want me to put out a statement about it?” Tony asked him over the phone, as if sensing Peter’s slight discomfort.

“You won’t be rude about it or anything, right? Just clarify, sweet and simple?” Peter asked, noticing that he was still garnering a bit of attention. Thankfully, New Yorkers themselves were usually nonchalant about that kind of thing so it was only the tourists that were trying to draw attention to him.

“Of course. I’ll get it out right away,” Tony assured him.

Peter had no reason not to believe him. He thanked him, hung up, and moved further away from the news stand. He muted his phone before digging into his sandwich, taking advantage of the rest of his lunch break before heading back to work. It wasn’t until he was in the elevator going back up to R&D that he noticed his phone was blowing up. He sighed, expecting a tweet or something from Tony laying out the truth but what he found caught him off guard.

Relationship. Tony said relationship. He hadn’t claimed that they were just friends or fuck buddies or whatever. He said relationship. Peter was so hyperfocused on the words that the next thing he registered was FRIDAY’s voice.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker, are you alright? Your vitals are concerning, should I alert Mr. Stark? ..Peter?”

“No! No, FRIDAY, no, don’t alert him, I’m fine!” Peter scrambled to answer, glancing up to see what floor the elevator was at currently. “Please don’t. I’m fine. I’m answering you, I’m fine!”

FRIDAY reluctantly agreed not to tattle just as the elevator stopped at his floor. Peter wasn’t feeling very fine, despite his protests, as he stepped out. He expected lots of stares and whispers, perhaps even direct comments about him ‘dating the boss.’ But there was nothing. Either nobody here had seen it yet or they just didn’t care. That certainly helped matters as he made his way to his table, intending on trying to focus on work but finding himself scrolling through the comments on the post instead. It was full of congratulatory messages from strangers but their friends didn’t seem very surprised. Rhodey, Nat, Ned, even Steve commented, all seeming as if this was barely news to them.

Peter got to his feet, heading back to the elevator to get to Tony’s lab. As the doors slid open on Tony’s R&D floor, Tony was standing there waiting to get on. The man flashed him his signature smile, stepping aside so he could get out.

“I was just coming to see you. May texted, said you seemed a bit out of it. Are you okay? I know the attention can be a lot but if I repeatedly make it clear that I want your privacy to be respected, it shouldn’t get too bad. Trust me, the fangirls will go rabid when reporters get too in-your-face about something,” Tony explained, leading Peter towards his office. Peter didn’t respond, staring straight ahead as Tony closed the door behind them. “They’ll want to protect you at all costs,” Tony continued, heading for the sofa instead of his chair. Peter remained standing, still just staring. Tony finally realized something was up and quirked an eyebrow at him, curious. “Pete?”

“Boyfriend.” Peter said blankly, staring at the man.

“Um, yes? I also have a name you can address me by.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Oookay, that works too. Peter, what’s wrong?”

The younger man started pacing the length of the office and Tony sighed, covering his face with his hands for a moment before regaining composure.

“FRIDAY, diagnose him. Fever? Has he been drugged? Is he having a psychotic break?”

“Sir, it appears that Peter is in a state of shock,” FRI replied easily. “His heart rate is elevated but nothing to be concerned about.”

“Shock over what?” Tony asked, watching as his partner continued to pace. He could practically see the gears turning in the boy’s head.

“It seems that Peter was not aware that the two of you were dating, Sir.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh while Peter came to a halt, his cheeks tinting pink as he stared at the floor. Realizing that there may be some truth in what FRI was telling him, Tony got to his feet, carefully approaching Peter.

“She’s right, isn’t she?” He asked softly, frown lines deeply engraved into his forehead. Peter refused to respond, not even looking up. Tony sighed, cupping the man’s chin and gently lifting it. “Pete? Is she right?”

Instead of answering, Peter’s face crumpled.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Tony immediately pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him securely. “I didn’t know that’s what this was.”

“That means I fucked up somewhere, Peter. Not you,” Tony soothed, rubbing the boy’s back. “If it had just been sex, I could understand, but Pete, sweetheart. I go to Sunday dinners with your Aunt. I host Sunday dinners for your Aunt. I take care of you when you’re sick, I let you wear my clothes.. Baby, we practically live together.”

“You never asked! You never used the words dating or boyfriend or-or-or relationship or anything,” Peter defended, lifting his head to look at the older man.

“Eight months ago, we laid in bed and I told you that I never wanted this to end. That I wanted forever with you,” Tony explained. “You agreed. I thought we were pretty clear from there on.”

“I thought that was pillow talk!” Peter exclaimed. “I’m so angry right now that it’s not even funny.”

Tony frowned once more, immediately letting Peter go and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Angry? You’re angry that I thought we were dating?”

“I’m angry that I’ve been holding back for eight months because I thought I wasn’t allowed to have you! I don’t kiss you first or touch you first or cuddle you whenever I want because I didn’t want to be too much for you!”

Tony’s face broke out into a grin, seeming relieved.

“Well, let’s rectify that right away.”

[hanatiny]

Back For Seconds

a/n: been working on this one for longer than I’d like to admit but here it is, finally - happy birthday to my favorite Gemini boy, Yeosang <3 (and to @yunhoiseyecandy​, since she happens to share a bday with him c:)

pairing: Yunho x genderneutral!reader x Yeosang

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 2816

warnings: established poly relationship, mentions of food, threesome, sub Yeosang, switch reader, soft dom Yunho, first time, praise, making out, pet names, slight corruption kink, oral (m receiving) swearing, voyeurism, master kink (only mentioned twice), masturbation, orgasm denial, consensual sex taping, implications of unprotected sex, implications of overstimulation

-----

To put it simply, the surprise you and Yunho had been planning for Yeosang’s birthday hasn’t been going quite according to how it should have.

Most if not all of your friends hung up on you when you asked them for help, making up some nonsensical excuse for you to believe while you made a mental note to go and get yourself some new, more reliable friends.

You huffed in annoyance, dropping your phone on the pillow as your bottom lip jutted out in a small pout.

Although understanding of your frustration, your tall puppy-like boyfriend couldn’t resist the urge to peck your cheek lovingly before sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Wanna talk about it?” Yunho asked gently, worried about how agitated you had become within the past approximately 20 minutes.

“I just want to make everything nice and pretty for Sangie’s surprise, and apparently no one I know is available to help. Woo can only keep him occupied for so long...”

“I understand, bun~” You smiled affectionately at the pet name Yunho used as he spoke, “But you know that our Sangie will love having even just us around, right? He’s never been much of a party person.”

“I do know, I just wanna make it extra special since it’s the first birthday he’s celebrating where we’re all together... I want it to be memorable for him, Yunnie.”

“Y/n, look at me.” When you refused the request, Yunho pouted and gently pulled you to sit on his lap, “Sangie will be happy either way because we love him and he loves us. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded in response, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a warm embrace to assure him.

It was then that you perked up, a light knock against the wooden door frame catching your attention followed by a quiet voice, “You guys... can I ask why there’s these little bottles of flavored milk,” Yeosang held up one of the bottles in question for clarification as you and Yunho blinked at him sheepishly, “all over the living room? I enjoy them and I know you do too, but...”

He trailed off, and you understood that he wanted an explanation.

“We- mostly I, admittedly- wanted to make your special day actually, well, special, so I was planning a mini party but no one other than Yun was available to help so it wasn’t done in time.” You confessed with a pout, looking over at the slightly younger of your two boyfriends while his own eyes flickered between you and Yunho.

Yeosang pondered his answer for a moment before walking over to you and crouching in front of you, his hand reaching to tuck some of your hair behind your ear after you had turned to face him.

“Honey,” it was ironic of him to use that pet name, you mused, considering that it was exactly what his soft voice sounded like, “you know as well as our sweet Yunho does that I’m not exactly a party person. So it’s okay, I truthfully didn’t expect you to even have anything planned. I’m just happy to have you both here with me...~”

Yeosang beamed sincerely at you, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight as well before pouting when Yunho poked your cheek.

“I’m not saying ‘I told you so’ or anything but... I kinda did, baby.”

Yeosang raised a questioning eyebrow at the two of you, merely chuckling when you huffed playfully at the older.

“Well,” he started as he stood, “these aren’t gonna drrink themselves, are they? First one on the couch gets to pick the movie, last one needs to take care of snacks~”

He giggled, the sound a melodious one that you could never quite get enough of, as he turned on his heel and swiftly made his way to the living room of your shared apartment.

It took you a moment to process the situation before you jumped to your feet and rushed to follow Yeosang, all while calling out to him with a pout, “No fair~ You had a headstart!”

"Not my fault, is it~?" Came the soft chuckle in response as Yunho merely shook his head in amusement, taking his time in getting up and making his way to the kitchen to take care of your guys' snacks.

That was how it usually ended up going on your movie nights together, with either you or Yeosang choosing the movies you would all watch while Yunho tended to be in charge of what you’d eat.

With the cake he had bought for the younger's birthday in his hands, he couldn't but smile when he found the two of you curled up next to each other with you threading your hand through Yeosang’s hair.

“Hey now,” Yunho cooed lowly so he wouldn’t scare either of you, “don’t hog all of the blankets, you two. I want some too, y’know~”

“You have no room to talk Yunnie, you’re a literal human teddybear and a walking heater~!” You whined in protest, letting out flustered giggles when he hummed in response and leaned in to peck both yours and Yeosang’s noses, the latter flushing a deep red out of shyness from the contact.

Satisfied, Yunho smiled and seated himself next to you before handing out slices of cake to you and the younger male, watching how his eyes lit up at the realization of what it was he was given.

“I admit that I had a little bit of help but,” Yunho confessed, and you couldn’t keep yourself from hoping that the one who helped him was not Wooyoung, based on a few past experiences, “I figured you’d enjoy this, considering that we all know how much you love sweet things...~”

“That’s why I love you and our precious Y/n so much~” It was Yunho’s turn to blush now, a cheeky grin playing on Yeosang’s lips, “In all seriousness - I love all of this, the balloons, the fairy lights, the sweets that I’m sure are delicious... You did so much to make sure I would have a good birthday~ Your efforts and Y/n’s are both incredibly appreciated....~”

You smiled brightly at his words, snuggling into his side while Yunho wrapped his arm around both of you to keep you close to himself.

You ended up watching some kind of romcom that recently came out and Yeosang shyly admitted to being interested in, and you admittedly found more joy in feeding your boyfriends the cake the older had prepared than in the movie.

Halfway through, you weren’t even sure how it happened, you were sprawled out across both of their laps with the blanket draped rather awkwardly over all three of you. You weren’t paying much attention to the movie playing on the tv anymore, more interested in playing with the strands of Yeosang’s hair you could reach without obstructing his field of vision with your hands.

You heard his breath hitch, however, so you paused mid stroke to turn your head to face the tv with your now undivided attention, and you understood immediately why Yunho scrambled to reach for the remote to pause it.

There was a sex scene presently playing on the screen, and neither of you were prepared to see it.

“It’s not even rated R, I don’t understand...” Yeosang mumbled lowly, his face flushed a bright shade of red.

“We can watch something else if you want Sangie, we don’t have to-” Yunho attempted to reassure him before being cut off and shushed with a finger placed on his lips.

Yeosang shook his head slightly, “No, I just- I didn’t expect that. But...”

“But?” You echoed questioningly, sitting up straight again between him and Yunho and looking at the former inquisitively, “I’ve been wondering if you guys c-could maybe teach me how to do things like that...”

You shared a look with Yunho, the tall male quirking a curious eyebrow at your boyfriend’s request. You were both aware that Yeosang had no sexual experience whatsoever beyond jerking himself off a handful of times in the shower, while you and the older of the two males had fooled around on multiple occasions.

“I mean, only if you want t-” Yeosang fell silent mid-sentence when you suddenly kicked the blanket away and off of the couch before climbing onto his lap and facing him.

“We want to, Sangie. We wanna make you feel good~”

An unintelligible whine left him at your words, followed by a shy look on his still reddened face. “Are you sure-”

Understanding of Yeosang’s hesitance, you shut him up with a gentle peck to his soft lips before giving him a cheeky smile, “Yes, we’re sure. I wanna suck you off, Sangie... please~?”

It was your pleading tone that made him give in, spreading his legs a little as you let your body slide off of his lap and down onto the carpet.

“Last chance to chicken out, Sangie. Are you one hundred percent sure you want this? I’ll stop and forget all about this if you ask me to but if you don’t, I’m about to give you the best goddamn blowjob of your life.”

Yeosang had to admit to himself that the dominance bleeding through the mischief of your tone had him twitching in his jeans, nodding eagerly as Yunho hummed next to him and took his own half-hard length out of his sweatpants.

“Mh don’t mind me, just gonna enjoy the show~”

A grin painting the older’s features while he leisurely stroked himself, he watched you fumble with Yeosang’s belt, your brows furrowed.

“Need some help there, sweetheart~?” You heard Yunho coo cheekily from across the couch, huffing softly in response, “No I don’t. If I can manage during all our practice room quickies, I can definitely manage now, thank you.”

You regretted your cocky choice of tone when you saw the look that flashed in Yunho’s eyes, an apologetic pout forming on your face in reaction, “S-sorry master, wasn’t thinking before speaking...”

“It’s alright as long as you admit your mistake, my dear. Now go ahead and do what you do best~” The older male purred, fishing his phone out of his pocket before pointing the camera at you and Yeosang, “Surely you won’t mind if I record this for when we’re on tour and missing our sweet darling...~?”

His tone was suggestive - it sounded like you had a choice, but you knew from experience there was no room whatsoever for debate, “It’s up to Sangie, I’m more than okay with that~”

Yeosang swallowed heavily when both your and Yunho’s attention shifted to him, his face flushed and eyebrows slightly raised from the surprise of hearing you call the older male by the title of ‘master’ instead of his name.

He simply nodded dumbly when he remembered that an answer was expected of him, too focused on the anticipation he felt towards the idea of having the warmth of your mouth enveloping his cock.

Yeosang breathed out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding when you finally freed his dick from where it strained against the fabric of his jeans, shuddering lightly when it instead came into contact with the cool air in the room.

He had a pretty decent size, you mused; his cock was a little thicker than Yunho’s, although shorter in return and curved slightly to the left.

“Y/n p-please, I- oh!” Yeosang’s plea got cut short when your lips finally wrapped around his sensitive tip, a small whimper of surprise sounding in his throat in reaction.

“Our darling’s a natural, eh Sangie~?” Yunho purred cockily, still stroking himself with the camera pointed to you and Yeosang.

It wasn’t that the latter didn’t want to retort, but he found himself choking on air when you suddenly took the entirety of his length into your mouth and down your throat. He would’ve been impressed by what appeared to be what Yunho had taught you, if he wasn’t currently sobbing out moans instead and throwing his head back to restrain himself from bucking his hips into you.

You hummed in satisfaction around him, pleased that you could reduce him to a moaning mess so easily and wanting to see what other kinds of sounds you’d be able to draw out of him while you boldly swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.

You heard Yunho groan from where he sat, his previous question forgotten with his thumb brushing over his own bulbous leaking tip.

A broken whine sounding in Yeosang’s throat was what made your attention snap back to the younger, your eyes hooded as you met his gaze, his pupils blown wide from lust.

Meanwhile, Yeosang was struggling to keep his composure and squeezed his eyes shut to keep from bucking his hips into your mouth and choking you with his length in the process.

You noticed him twitch in your mouth, the feeling encouraging you to give his cock suction as best as you could given his size.

“Ahh~ F-fuck...~” His heavenly voice reached yours and Yunho’s ears in the form of a breathless lewd moan, the latter humming in sadistic interest, “Mmh~ Are you gonna cum, Yeoangie~?”

It took Yeosang an almost embarrassingly long moment to process his boyfriend’s question in his head, giving a nod and a throaty groan in response, “Yeah, ‘m so f-fucking close I feel like I’m gonna burst...”

It seemed like a miracle to himself that he was able to formulate such a coherent answer, Yunho offering a soft thoughtful hum in reply before his voice boomed through the living room while he slowed his own strokes.

“Y/n, off.” You nodded and obeyed the simple order immediately, removing your mouth from Yeosang’s dick as quickly as possible before watching the string of saliva between his tip and your lips cut in front of your very eyes while awaiting the next command.

Yeosang promptly whimpered at having been denied his orgasm, glancing back and forth between your bright eyed smiling form and Yunho’s next to him. Even through his haze of pleasure, he was able to deduce what kind of man the latter was in the bedroom - he didn’t seem to be a particularly stern or demanding dom, but he was still firm and clear about what he wanted.

As someone naturally leaning to be rather reserved and laid back, Yeosang had to admit that he found this kind of control oddly attractive.

“W-why...” He whispered eventually after catching his breath, his eyes meeting Yunho’s darkened ones as the older smiled a little too sweetly to not be suspicious.

“You said you wanted to learn ‘how to do those things,’ no? It’s exactly what we’re doing... Y/n giving you head was just warming you up for what’s to come, and I’ll warn you now that we always come back for seconds~”

Yeosang found himself shuddering in anticipation of the sultry tone’s implications while you tilted your head in curious interest, still kneeling on the floor beside him.

“Lie back darling, and let us do what we do best.”

Yeosang understood that the request was for him and, too desperate to cum to allow himself to complain about being given orders, did as told. Removing his pants and boxers entirely, he gave Yunho time to stand and place the phone on the coffee table to continue filming all three of you before making himself comfortable on the couch - as comfortable as he could be with a hard and throbbing cock, anyway.

He turned his head to the side to face the older, his cheeks flushed a bright crimson when he felt Yunho gently nudge his tip against his lips. At the same time, he found himself jolting the tiniest bit, his self-restraint almost cracking when he realized that you had undressed as well and positioned yourself in such a way that had you hovering right above him with your entrance close enough for him to easily slip inside if he really wished to.

Yeosang knew much better than to do anything rash though, and shook off the idea. He was the one who had asked for ‘lessons’ in terms of how sex felt, he mentally chastised himself, so he opted to let the two of you do as you pleased and lead him instead. Because this was the best birthday present he could’ve ever dreamt of.

“I can already tell it’ll be fun to teach our sweet Sangie all about how good it is to not have to rely on some toy or his hand just to cum~” You chirped from where you were above him, leaving the younger conflicted about where to look before his lustfilled eyes settled on Yunho’s own darkened gaze.

“I agree, baby~ I look forward to seeing how many ‘seconds’ he’ll be able to handle...~”

----- Taglist:

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @gummygowon​ @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @serialee @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

[fbfh]

dear baby; strawberry milkshakes - leo x reader parents au

words: 1.8k

summary: You and Leo are getting used to adulting together, when Chiron asks for your help. Next thing you know, there’s a little demigod for you two to take care of - and you’re not going to let her down.

warnings: almost boning but getting interrupted, shit is said twice, one use of fucking I think, mentions of orphanages and the foster care system, mentions of CPS, being at a CPS building, adopting a child, leo has trauma, leo and reader take in a child when you’re both 19, technically teen parents but not really, the kid has some trauma too, everyone has trauma but literally what’s new

au: sort of college + parents au

song recs: raining in new york mix - the bootleg boy (tw for some sort of sad dialogue samples), falling in love with love - bernadette peters in cinderella (1997)

a/n:  I saw a kids book called Sophia Valdez Future Prez and I know nothing about it but immediately knew I had to do a parents au where you and Leo have a daughter named sophia???????? also I accidentally gave myself baby fever whoopsie

also I was barely able to proof read this and had no brain while writing half of it so if the beginning feels rushed at all that’s why teehee

Straddling his lap, you start to take off Leo’s shirt. He tilts his head to the side as you nip at the skin gently. He moans softly, then tenses. 

"Shit!" He hisses, sitting up and pulling your shorts back up. You look at him bewildered, and he nods his head to the side, and you see a shimmery cloud that says that you have an incoming iris message from Chiron.  

"Oh shit," you echo, moving to a reasonable distance away from him, a thick throw blanket tossed gracefully across your legs and pulled up to cover your chest, and you're grateful your shirt hadn't been thrown across the room already. 

He pulls his shirt down and you toss him a throw pillow to cover his very obvious excitement. You give each other a ready as we'll ever be look and accept the call. 

"Hey Chiron… what's up?" Leo asks nonchalantly. 

"You must pardon my intrusion, dear children, I hope I'm not - er - interrupting anything.” “No, no, not at all,” you answer, hoping what you had been doing wasn’t too obvious in spite of how both of you are looking particularly flushed and deschevled, “we were just watching a movie.” 

Leo nods in agreement, and you list two different movies at the exact same time, the dark knight rises and moonstruck.

A beat passes, and you continue, “Double feature. Just finished Batman and we’re about to start Moonstruck.” 

Leo agrees. You can’t tell if Chiron is buying it, but he seems to move on relatively quickly. 

“Right. I’m afraid I must ask for your help with a rather time sensitive situation.” your brows furrow in unicen as he continues. 

He tells you about a young demigod a satyr found, not even four years old yet, but they haven’t been able to get her to camp. Apparently there were some complications, and CPS was called, now they’re looking for her parents to see if she’s going to a foster home or orphanage. If they can’t get to her before the CPS finishes processing her, she’ll be lost in the system. He’s asking older demigods and demigod families in New York, since processing time will go the fastest if the family or guardians are in-state. 

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please consider taking her in, at least temporarily.” You and Leo share a look, hearts already hurting that life has gotten to this kid so soon. 

“I’ll give you some time to discuss this, please call me back as soon as you have an answer.” 

You agree, and the shimmery image of Chiron dissipates.

“... Oh my god,” you breathe. 

You turn to each other again, the same thing mirrored in each other's eyes. An immediate, unspoken conformation that there’s no way you can’t help this kid out passes between you. You know Leo, especially, will do whatever needs to be done to keep another orphaned demigod out of the foster system. The scope of the impact you could have on this kid’s life starts to dawn on you, and you lock eyes with Leo again, his face set in determination. 

“Estrella,” he starts, and you know what he’s going to say. 

“I know,” you confirm in agreement.

His leg is bouncing, and you lean over, grabbing a notepad and pen from the coffee table. Your mind is already racing, and you begin scribbling down a list of everything you’d need to do; get her a bed and clothes, research where she is in her developmental stages, put together a meal plan or at least some foods she’ll like - what do toddlers even eat? He starts pacing around the coffee table. 

“We gotta help this kid, we-” he cuts himself off, overwhelmed with determination. 

“We will.” you confirm, equally determined. You grab your laptop and start copying your list digitally so you can get everything organized. You stare at your reflection in the black screen while you wait for your computer to boot up. Once again, the reality of your situation hits you.

“We’re 19…” you state, in disbelief. Your mind is racing with doubts. What if you somehow make everything worse, what if you can’t handle it? He crouches next to you, placing his hand on your cheek.

“And we have a lot of love to give.” The smile in your eyes tells him that you know he’s right. You transcribe your writing, surprised that you’re okay with how fast this is all moving, and you let out another breathy laugh of disbelief. 

You go through your hastily made checklist, switching between tabs about child psychology, parenting advice, and kid’s furniture and clothes websites, strategizing with Leo on how you can pull this off, and a plan gradually comes together.

“I mean, this is a two bedroom,” he says as you look through pages of bed frames and mattresses, “we can clear out our studio and turn it into her room.” 

“And…” you add, checking yet another tab, “there’s a building nearby that rents out studio spaces and workshop areas. Ooh, and free parking.” you read on the website. It’s already late, but you send them an email anyway. Hopefully they’ll get back to you tomorrow. But for now… 

“We can get a bed tonight, but we’d have to hurry. We can probably get some pjs and maybe a stuffed animal while we’re there- toothbrush!” You exclaim, adding it to your list, “I knew I was forgetting something…”

 Leo stops pacing, and looks at you. “So… we’re doing this?” You can’t fight the smile on your face, and he already has his answer. 

“We’d better call Chiron back,” you say, excitedly bubbling out. You both enter the bathroom, and iris message chiron with mist from the shower. He answers almost immediately.

“We thought it over and…” you trail off, letting him finish.

“We want to help.” 

After changing into some presentable clothes and swinging by the store for a car seat and some other essentials (you almost forgot tooth paste this time), you’re driving with Leo to meet Chiron at the CPS office where they had Sophia - the girl Chiron told you about. You call the Ikea store not too far from your apartment, thankful you’re able to reach them before they close. You arrange to have them deliver a toddler bed to the spare bedroom in your apartment, your neighbor agreeing to let them in. Luckily, you had the presence of mind to get most of your and Leo’s stuff out of there, the corner of the living room now holding your desk and his drafting table. 

You’re still a little blurry on the details of how you’re going to get custody of this kid when you’re barely legal and have no ties to her or her family, but Chiron said he could work everything out. You assume the Mist will come in very handy. You and Leo discuss this on the way over. 

You can tell he’s worried. Knowing the horrors he went through in the foster system would be bad enough without all the demigod bullshit on top of everything. You take another deep breath. 

“This is what’s best for her,” he says matter of factly, “she needs to be with people who understand her.” You agree, and he continues, very fired up.

“She needs to be in an environment where she’s not going to be ignored and ostracized; she needs to be part of a family, not a fucking meal ticket.” 

You squeeze his leg supportively, and he takes another breath. 

“You’re right. And she’s going to get all of that.” He scoffs in agreement.

“There’s not a better place for someone like her than-”

“With someone like her.” you finish. He pulls into the parking lot and you enter, meeting Chiron in the building. Your hand holds Leo’s tightly, unsure of who’s shaking more. Chiron explains that he already had a discussion (wink wink) with the social worker, and knows that he has the perfect couple to take little Sophia in, and all you have to do is meet with her and sign some papers. 

So that brings you here, waiting outside the office door, holding each other’s trembling hands before finally entering. She doesn’t look up at you at first, until the social worker introduces you. Leo squeezes your hand, and she finally looks up, her eyes speaking a language you and Leo know. You know there is absolutely no going back from here, and you both sit down across from her. 

“Hi, you’re Sophia, right?” She looks away, clearly and understandably overwhelmed. 

“Don’t be rude, Sophia-” the social worker starts, but you cut her off. 

 “It’s okay, she didn’t do anything wrong.” you turn back to her, “You know, me and Leo have an extra bedroom at our apartment, and a kitten that I think would really like you. Do you want to come stay with us?” 

She doesn’t look back up right away, but she turns her head towards you. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asks softly. How is she so precious already?

“A girl,” you reply, “named Jackhammer, because she purrs so loud.” 

She giggles, and you and Leo squeeze each other’s hands in unison.

“Really?” she asks. 

“Oh yeah,” you reply, “I’m sure she’d love to play catch the mouse with you.” She considers for a moment, then looks over at the social worker, who gives her an encouraging nod. After a moment of consideration, she replies quietly, “...Okay.” 

She hops down from her chair, and you both follow suit. The social worker hands you some papers, and you both sign. You guide her to the lobby, let Chiron know it went well and promise to update him soon, and bring her to the car. You pull out of the parking lot. 

Not long after leaving, you see a fast food place. 

“Are you guys hungry?” you ask, nudging Leo gently. 

“Yeah, I could definitely go for some fries. How bout you Sophia?” 

She nods, then asks quietly, “Can I get a milkshake?” 

Her expression is hesitant, and you get the sense she’s expecting a no. 

“Of course kiddo,” you say.

“What flavor do you want?” Leo finishes, turning to look at her. Her eyes are bright with hesitant excitement. 

“Strawberry, please.” 

After leaving the drive through, you have Leo search through your phone for any kid friendly music, and discover the only thing you have saved that’s appropriate for present company is the soundtrack to the Cinderella musical from 1997.

That’s how your little family started; driving late at night, singing along to Bernadette Peters, and drinking strawberry milkshakes.

[xseaxwitchxkpop]

Too Much Overthinking

A/N: This fic is pretty reflective of my own thoughts and pretty self-indulgent. While I kinda wanted to keep this to myself, I felt that there’s other people that could benefit from the comfort of the fic that I tried to go for. Self-love, or at very least self-acceptance, is such a hard journey and sometimes our heads get the better of us. The reader is not necessarily female, so I used no female pronouns, but the reader is framed as femme-presenting, so keep that in mind when reading. So many of fics like these end in sex and it irks me because us fat people are not fetishes, we are people, and deserve to be comforted as such, so I decided to write what I want lol. Also I chose Jongho because he comes off as very emotionally mature and very emotionally intelligent (ignore the fact that he was one of two members that caught my attention and made me stan Ateez lol).

Genre: Comfort

Reader Type: femme!reader, plussize!reader

CW: very negative thoughts, body image issues, a little emotional lol

Requested: NO

Group: ATEEZ -- Jongho

Word Count: 1,491

The boys stayed late at the studio, the night steadily getting darker as you stare out the window and watch the moon climb into the sky and shine. The day feels over already and Jongho once again misses the dinner you made him earlier, complete with missing the cute lunchbox cake you got to celebrate your two year anniversary.

Your heart sinks and your mouth turns into a frown -- you never considered yourself clingy or codependent, but there are times when perhaps you would like him to think about you a little more or that you wanted to stick to his side and never let go. 

But him missing this special dinner tonight triggered your negative thoughts and began a less-than-savory night for you; no, you don’t blame him for your thoughts because he didn’t force you to think the things you do, but the current situation certainly doesn’t help.

The soft blankets welcome you with arms of warmth and the mountain of pillows cradle your head as you stare at the ceiling with horrid thoughts running through your heads. You’re too fat, anyway, didn’t need the amount of carbs in the noodles. Your stomach sticks out and sweeps the edge of the counter in a way it shouldn’t, time to lose some! You’re nothing but a good fuck for him, he’s definitely trying to get another woman that’s thinner...they’ve been using a lot of female backup dancers lately…

You whip yourself around in your blankets, trying to squash the thoughts or at least put a temporary stop to them. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you hear the door to your apartment opening and closing, accompanied by shuffling that indicates Jongho came by and took off his jacket, shoes, and made his way to the bedroom. 

You feel the bed dip down behind you and a solid chest snuggle against your back; his arm threw itself around your body and squished you against him, squishing your stomach in the process and making you feel extremely uncomfortable. His breath lingered on the back of your neck as you heard him whisper that he’s sorry for missing the dinner and that he’d make it up to you tomorrow.

You certainly didn’t want him to know you’re awake, but your mouth moves faster than your brain: “Are you actually?”

His breathing hitches, not realizing that you are still awake. The grip around your midsection loosened and you take the opportunity to lift his arm off of you and scoot away from him. He props himself up on his elbow and peers at the back of your head -- you can’t see the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but you can at least feel the searing gaze aimed at the back of your head.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, wanting to reach out a hand and rub your arm, but forcing himself to stop. He knows that he fucked up by missing the anniversary celebration, but the synergy of the group was radically off kilter today and it took longer than it should have for all of them to perfect the choreography and he was going to explain tomorrow. But he can’t figure out why this bothered you so much -- you were always understanding and that’s one of the reasons you had his heart.

All you can do is sigh, not wanting to burden him with your negative thoughts, but your tear ducts have other ideas and so thus did your brain.

“What I mean is why stay so late? And without so much as a text or phone call?” you mumble.

“Hmm?” he says, not quite hearing you.

You sit up and turn yourself to face him, barely holding back tears. “Do you not love me any more? Am I not attractive to you any more? Am I just a good fuck for you at this point?”

Jongho’s face fell (not that you can see it in the darkness of the room) and he reaches out to your vague silhouette, wanting to caress your face. “Y/N --”

“No!” you shout at him, hugging yourself and scooting yourself further from him, the hard surface of the wall hitting your back.

“There’s gonna be a day where you wake up and realize that you don’t love me any more, realize that my fat stomach is not cute or good for gripping but repulsive, that my back rolls aren’t sexy but gross, that you’re just lying to yourself and lying to me! You don’t find me sexy, you don’t find my body attractive, and you’ll wake up and realize that and leave me! There’s so many better people out there, yeah, with thinner bodies, with no protruding stomach, with slim arms and a defined jawline, no fat poking out in their bras, with legs that don’t rub together and chaff and can fit beautifully into short skirts…one day, you’re gonna wake up and look at me the way I look at myself.”

Tears leave streaks down your face as you ramble. You tighten the blankets around you in an effort to hide yourself. And Jongho, your boyfriend of two years who has done nothing but make you feel loved, that shows you off in public and is proud to have you for a S/O, feels his heart drop so low he doesn’t know if it is in his body any more. His eyes also sting with tears hearing how you view yourself and he’s at a loss for what to say; he knows that you don’t think highly of yourself, but to hear it in its entirety, with you in tears and hearing, unfiltered, what goes on in your head hurts him. He remembers the intense struggle that Seonghwa had with his own image and how he still slips into that mindset sometimes, but you’re not Seonghwa and can’t be reassured the same way.

Jongho crawled his way to you and cupped your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes as much as possible. At a loss for what else to do, he places his lips gently on yours and just stays there; he feels the wet tracks from your eyes to your chin and the ragged breaths through your nose from your crying.

He eventually pulls away but stays close to your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Why are you thinking these things, hm? Was it because I stayed late? I really am sorry about that,” he whispers into the space between you two.

“I...I don’t know...I just...you’re using more female backup dancers...and you missed my...missed my dinner.”

“What do female backup dancers have to do with anything? Do you think any of them can take me from you?”

You look up at him as he hits the nail on the head, pathetically sniffling in an attempt to not only regulate breathing but also not to open the floodgates again.

“Oh, sweetheart, nothing like that will happen,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, fighting you, fighting him because the last thing that he wants is for you to think he’s gonna leave you high and dry. 

You sink into him, trying even harder to not cry and trying not to think about how you look when crying, trying to ignore the thoughts that tell you that you being an ugly crier is part of the reason that you are horrendously unattractive.

“But what if it does? They’re fit, they’re healthy, they’re attractive…” you start, muttering into his shoulder.

“Who said that?” he counters with lightning speed, not letting you finish the statement. “You? You can’t trust your opinion of yourself in the mirror, how are you to judge what I do and don’t find attractive? You say they’re attractive to me because you don’t find yourself attractive enough to be with me, which your heart will tell you is not true.”

You can’t hold anything in any more and let yourself cry, and not just a small one. You soak his shirt with tears, you claw your way onto his lap and hold him in a death-grip, and you cried, a cathartic one that poured at your emotions into this one cry.

Jongho can’t do anything but hold you with a heavy heart; hearing you cry your heart out hurt him to a degree and he had to hold back his own tears threatening to spill. 

He leans back against the mountain of pillows, pulling you with him, and rubbing your back and squeezing your shoulder. You cry yourself to sleep, eventually becoming dead weight on your boyfriend’s chest, which he wholeheartedly embraced. He slowly falls asleep after you, promising himself that, despite the good communication you two had, he’d try to be more mindful of how much you feel loved and ensure that he doesn’t leave doubt in the future for his love for you.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’) 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.  

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul. 

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.  

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn���t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7

[ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing]

For the two-part drabble game, how about 6 - In bed at 2am, blissfully drowsy, and 28 - “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” :)

Hi Friend!

Thank you for the ask!

It turns out drabble isn't in my vocabulary so this went sideways faster than one footed duck (who are surprisingly bad at balancing for birds) and ended up over 2.5k. So enjoy the ficlet? The oneshot? I don't know what acceptable lengths are.

Also this is super duper NSFW so you've all been warned.

They’d won. They’d actually won.

The thought sent a jolt of excitement through Anakin as he made his way to his quarters for the first time in months.

The treaty had been signed and the last of the deployed troops were being recalled. Sure, there was still a lot of mediation to do, the clones right’s bill to get passed through the senate, and probably what would amount to a lifetime of therapy to begin but this was it.

The war was over.

Anakin spent the last three hours trying to outdrink Rex, which had been a mistake because the man had drunk the equivalent of paint thinner for the last five years and Anakin was a lightweight, and the next two sobering up as much as he could when he realized that the war was over.

Tonight, was the night. Or morning. Time had definitely gotten away from Anakin.

He rushed towards the quarters that he shared with Obi-Wan faster, so excited that he’d almost tripped over himself at least four times. He arrived there, putting the code in wrong a few times until his fingers decided to cooperate and the door opened with a hiss. He hurried to Obi-Wan’s room, letting the doors open and stepping in and-.

He wasn’t there.

Anakin blinked and then started to look around as if his master could somehow be hiding in the closet or underneath his desk but the man was nowhere to be found. He sat down on Obi-Wan’s bed, drunk mind still kind of fuzzy as he tried to figure out where his wayward master could have gone at three in the morning. Today was the day. Wasn’t it? Had Obi-Wan changed his mind? With a stab of pain in his gut, he realized his master had probably decided to do some celebrating of his own. A different kind of celebrating than Anakin had been doing. After all, it’d been nearly four months since they’d been temple side and Obi-Wan was only human.

Anakin swallowed around the lump in his throat and laid back on the bed, letting the smell of beard oil and spiced tea fill his lungs as the lingering ghost of Obi-Wan’s force presence wrapped around him.

Tonight, wasn’t the night, he realized, his stomach hurting at the thought. It might already be too late. It was probably too late, and Anakin didn’t even know why he’d thought that it would happen anyway.

He sat up, wiping angry tears off of his face and standing unsteadily.

Fine then. If Obi-Wan wasn’t here, if he wanted to spend the night in someone else’s bed instead of seeing what was right in front of him, then Anakin wouldn’t do the disservice to the both of them by being in his when he returned.

He let the door open and shut behind him, blinking away the stinging in his eyes as he started over to his room, angrily letting the door open and stomping in, deciding that he’d sleep in his bed and then in the morning he’d put in the request to move quarters like he should have after his knighting ceremony. He was a Jedi Master now. He couldn’t continue to share quarters anyway, without it raising questions and he’d just tell Obi-Wan that. Yeah, that’s what he’d do, he’d crawl into his bed and-.

He stopped short, hand still reached out to pull back the covers.

Obi-Wan was curled up into a small ball in the middle of the bed and Anakin didn’t quite remember his master ever being that small. But he supposed it been a while since he’d seen anyone other than The Negotiator.

His auburn hair was fluffy like he’d just taken a shower and let it air dry, freckles dotting across his face from the sun he’d gotten during his month-long campaign in the Outer Rim. He was breathing deeply, His face was shoved into a pillow- Anakin’s pillow, his mind supplied- but he could still see his full lips, mouth slightly open in his sleep. Anakin pulled the blanket down a bit and looked to see his shoulders were bare, the skin lighter than his face from constantly being covered, but no less beautiful. The creamy white skin was still decorated with light dots and a few cuts that he must have gotten while fighting Grievous.

Anakin let his hand brush across Obi-Wan’s shoulder and Obi-Wan shuttered slightly in his sleep, body unconsciously moving towards Anakin.

All of Anakin’s anger had immediately been zapped from him, the tension falling from his body as he looked at the beautiful man in his bed.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered, kicking off his shoes and crawling up onto the bed to shake him gently. Obi-Wan shuffled a bit and then stilled again.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said a little louder, letting his hand slip down across Obi-Wan’s clavicle.

He twitched again, eyes blinking open sleepily as he tried to get his bearings.

“Anakin,” he sighed when he saw him, letting his eyes close and opening his arms, “Mm there you are. Come lay down. It’s late.”

“You’re in my bed,” Anakin told him, trying to keep the smile out of his face.

“So I am,” Obi-Wan told him, voice giving nothing away.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Anakin asked him, shucking off his shirt as he climbed under the sheets with Obi-Wan and wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

“I guess that depends on what you think it means,” Obi-Wan replied.

“You’re not answering my question,” Anakin told him, ducking his head so their foreheads were almost touching.

“You haven’t asked me a question I can answer,” Obi-Wan explained, “I may need a bit more context than that.”

He wanted Anakin to be specific? Anakin could be specific.

“If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and Anakin relaxed as he was the mirth behind his expression.

“I’m not sure,” he said, as if they were having a conversation about the weather, “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

Anakin closed the space between them, taking Obi-Wan into his arm and kissing him with everything that he had, sucking on his bottom lip and licking along the crease of his lips until he opened his mouth to Anakin’s assault.

Anakin shifted, pulling Obi-Wan on top of him, grasping at his hips as he started to grind up into his. Obi-Wan let out a loud moan, pressing his own hips to meet Anakin’s thrusts and Anakin felt dizzy with the heat that was between them, the desperation for something they’d been waiting for, for too long.

They broke apart, both panting heavily and Obi-Wan started to drag his fingertips across Anakin’s chest. Goosebumps started to break out against his skin and Obi-Wan grinned at him.

“The war is officially over today,” he told Anakin.

“It is,” Anakin agreed, still breathing heavily.

“That means I’m officially no longer your superior officer, council member,” Obi-Wan told him, and then he bent down so that his lips brushed against Anakin’s ear, “We’re officially equals.”

“Yeah?” Anakin asked him, brain fuzzy with pleasure and anticipation at his words.

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan replied, kissing down his neck and then his chest, hands roaming down the vee of his abs.

“Does this mean you can officially fuck me?” Anakin asked him, gasping as Obi-Wan sat up, hands trailing down this inside of his thighs.

“If that’s what you want,” Obi-Wan told him, blue-green eyes dark as his breath hitched.

“That’s what I want,” Anakin assured him, squirming under the man, “Please?”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” Obi-Wan mused, lifting his hips to start tugging at Anakin’s pants.

“Oh kark,” Anakin groaned as the cold air hit his cock. Obi-Wan started to pull of his own sleep pants and Anakin couldn’t help but watch, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

“If you keep looking at me like that, this isn’t going to last long,” Obi-Wan warned him.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives and if you don’t kriff me right now I’m going to die,” Anakin breathed out, moaning as Obi-Wan sat back down on his hips and leaned down to press another kiss to his mouth, this time an open-mouthed, rough kiss, teeth clashing together almost painfully.

“Then we’d better get moving,” Obi-Wan gave him a smirk, giving him a kiss before climbing off of him to spread his legs. Anakin eagerly let him, the weight of what was happening not settling in until Obi-Wan was between his spread legs, putting one of his feet against the bed and then sliding it back so that Anakin was exposed for him.

Anakin’s breath hitched and Obi-Wan looked up sharply, fingers brushing over his face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked him softly, “I won’t be mad if you want to wait.”

“I’ve been waiting for years,” Anakin argued, “I’m just a little nervous is all.”

Obi-Wan gave him a soft smile, kissing him as he shifted to dig between the mattress and the frame, pulling out a bottle of lube.

“How did you know that was there?” Anakin asked, face heating in embarrassment.

Obi-Wan hummed noncommittedly as he popped the cap and squeezed some out on his fingers.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin squeaked.

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are,” Obi-Wan told him as he started to circle his entrance, “And these walls aren’t that thick.”

Anakin was mortified, even as he started to pant harder when Obi-Wan slid a finger into him up to the first knuckle.

“You could hear me?” Anakin asked and then feeling as if he would die, “All of it?”

“Do you know how hard it was to stay on the right side of the door when you’re calling my name?” Obi-Wan asked him, voice thick with lust as he started thrusting one finger in and out of Anakin, “While you’re begging for me? When you come you leave the bond wide open and it’s like I’m in your body for a second, watching you shove your fingers in and out of yourself while you cry for me.”

“I didn’t know,” Anakin told him, head thrashing as Obi-Wan slides a second finger inside of him. His blood was boiling, and he felt like he’s being cooked from the inside out when Obi-Wan curled his fingers and hit his prostate straight on.

He won’t ever admit to the sound that comes out of his throat at the sensation.

“You look even more beautiful when it’s my fingers inside of you,” Obi-Wan told him huskily, “You’re flushed from your face to your cock while you squirm on my fingers.”

Anakin let out an impossibly high keen and pushed his hips back down onto Obi-Wan’s fingers harder. He feels like one point of concentrated heat and need and he almost sobbed when Obi-Wan slid a third finger into him.

“I want you; I want you, please,” Anakin mindlessly babbled. His cock was impossibly hard and Obi-Wan’s fingers felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be split open on Obi-Wan’s cock like he’d been dreaming of since he was his padawan. He pushed the mental image towards him, not trusting his mouth to be able to get the words out.

“Oh force,” Obi-Wan said breathlessly, “You’re so desperate for it.”

“Please,” Anakin begged, “Please.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers slid from him, and he whined at the empty feeling but then he opened his eyes at the snick of a bottle opening, watching with rapt attention as Obi-Wan started to spread the slick on his cock and then he was adding more against Anakin’s hole.

“Please,” Anakin sobbed out.

“It’s okay darling,” Obi-Wan shushed him, “I’ve got you. I promise.”

And then the head of his cock was pressed against Anakin’s hole and Anakin was taking a deep breath as Obi-Wan breached him, his body trying to resist the intrusion.

He felt as Obi-Wan pet at his hips, throwing Anakin’s bent leg over his shoulder.

“You’re doing so good dear one,” he told him, “Just relax and let me in.”

“Please, oh,” Anakin moaned, forcing his body to relax as Obi-Wan continued to press in.

It felt like forever before he was fully seated in Anakin, the pressure of being open so wide sending an ache through his spine.

“That’s it,” Obi-Wan told him, panting as he shook with the effort of staying still, “Oh you’re so tight. You’re so tight, kriff.”

Anakin waited until the ache in his spine lessened and nodded at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan pulled his hips back slightly, pressing into him and then repeating it over and over, each time letting his cock slide out a little more until he was thrusting eagerly, pulling out until only the tip remained in Anakin and then pressing back in, in one solid motion, fucking the breath out of him.

The pain in his spine gave way to pleasure and he could feel his orgasm building in his gut, whimpers, and moans escaping his lips as Obi-Wan began to fuck him earnestly, the headboard of the bed shaking with every thrust.

“You’re so perfect,” Obi-Wan told him as he fucked him, “You’re so beautiful like this, split open on my cock. Look how good you take it.”

“Please, please, please,” Anakin babbled, his mind unable to come up with anything else as pressure started building in his balls and he desperately wrapped a hand around his cock, only for his hand to be pushed away, replaced with Obi-Wan’s calloused, tight grip. He stroked him once and then twice and Anakin was gone, letting out a wail as he came, back arching up as he painted his own stomach his cum.

His legs shook as Obi-Wan continued fucking him through the aftershocks, pressing against his over-sensitized prostate.

“I’m almost there,” Obi-Wan promised him, “You’re so good. You’re squeezing so tightly around me. Kriff, you feel so good. I’m so close- oh!”

Anakin felt Obi-Wan pulsing inside of him as he shoved into him one last time, something warm and wet splashing inside of him and filling him up.

Obi-Wan collapsed on him, panting heavily. They laid like that until Anakin started to squirm underneath of him, thighs beginning to cramp from the way Obi-Wan had him bent in half. Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbows, pulling out and letting Anakin’s leg slip off of his shoulder before sliding into bed next to him and pulling their bodies together.

“We should probably shower,” Anakin told him sleepily.

Obi-Wan made a noncommittal noise, tucking Anakin’s head under his chin and tangling their legs together.

“Your cum is leaking out of me,” Anakin tried again and Obi-Wan’s grip tightened on him.

“Exactly how it should be,” Obi-Wan told him, “You’re mine and now you can’t forget it.”

“I’ve always been yours,” Anakin whispered into his chest, “I’ve waited for you for ten years Obi-Wan. While everyone else was out experimenting I knew exactly what I wanted.”

Obi-Wan clutched Anakin tighter to his chest, breathing out hard.

“I love you,” he whispered into Anakin’s hair.

“I love you too,” Anakin whispered into his chest.

[tare-anime]

A silly idea pop up in my head, greatly inspired by dancingpineapples fic: A Rose by Any Other Name Go read that amazing Regency AU! Summary:  Yor has been taking care of unwell Yuri for three days. She promised to always called the Forger residence to check on the family at a certain time. But today the phone didn’t ring. (AO3) ------------

Yuri stirred awake slowly, and he realized that for the first time since the last couple days, he felt light and his head didn’t pound anymore. The black haired man then opened his eyes and in a much better mood looked at the concerned face with blue eyes at his bedside.

Wait a minute.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” The man at his side asked him.

Ah… so apparently I'm still dreaming. It is impossible that this man was watching over me during my sick time. Tsk. Such a terrible nightmare.

Yuri then sank back to his pillow, and closed his eyes.

After taking a deep breath for several minutes, once again he opened his eyes. This time he double checked.

Head pound. Gone.

Nasal congestion. Gone.

Body ache. Gone.

The ceiling. Mine.

The bed. Mine.

The person that had been taking care of me…….

The young man turned to his side and saw none other than…..

“LoiLoi!!!” He shouted and abruptly sat up, “What are you doing here?! Where is my sister??!!”

“SHHH!!!” Loid put his finger in his mouth, then pointed in the direction of the couch at the corner of the younger man’s studio apartment.

The younger Briar then turned his head following the direction pointed, and was relieved to see that Yor was fast asleep at the couch. Covered in blankets.

“So I see that you’ve recovered. I’m glad.”

“Thanks to my sister. Not you!”

Loid chuckled, “Obviously. But did she get enough rest while she took care of you?”

“Of course!! I’m not a child who needs to be watched 24 hours a day!”

The elder man glanced at the sleeping woman and muttered, “I can see that.”

Yuri growled at the silent accusation, “I’ll let you know that I-...”

But the elder one didn’t get him to finish his sentence as he got up and walked toward the kitchen area, “So, are you hungry?”

The younger Briar gritted his teeth, “I’m not going to eat anything made by you!”

Loid again chuckled as he took a bowl and put a big spoonful of the dish from the pot, “This Southern Stew is Yor’s specialty. I cannot make this.”

Despite growling at the elder man, Yuri couldn’t stop the sparks in his eyes when he received the bowl, and within minutes finished the dish.

Just when the younger man relished the warm taste of the stew, the elder one needed to ruin the moment by speaking, “I can see that you also had your appetite back.”

“Like I said, I’ve recovered," He spat, but didn't fight back when Loid took the empty bowl from his hand, and refilled it with another portion.

"How did you know where I live?" The red eyed boy asked while receiving the bowl.

Loid lifted his brows, and answered, "Yor told me."

There's several seconds of pause there!  

"You lied!" The SSS officers accused the spy, "Why would my sister tell you about my place?"

There's a little twitch at the corner of Loid's eyes, when he answered, "Why wouldn't she? She's my wife, and that makes you my brother. My family."

Yuri really felt uncomfortable hearing the man flawlessly relaying the reasons. The fact that it was true that by marrying his sister, this good for nothing man did become his family too, didn't feel right to him. But Yuri couldn't retort. He blamed his sluggish brain for that.

So he chose to glare at the man before him, "Tsk. I'm fine now. You can go home."

Loid then lifted up both of his hands, "Okay… okay, I'll immediately go home after fixing your door. I’ll pick your sister up tomorrow morning."

Loid then stood up and went to the direction of the door.

"Yeah, just do tha-...." Yuri blinked, "What do you mean by 'fixing my door'?"

Then something clicked.

Hey, how the hell did he manage to get in?

Loid sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, "Well….. I didn't have the key. And since nobody answered my call, I had to think of the most efficient way of coming in…."

Yuri gawked when he saw the state of his apartment door, "You whaaat??!!"

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

( A little earlier that day….)

Frankie was pulling the folding door to close his tobacco shop when a hand stopped him in doing so.

Glancing up, he met with a panting Twilight.

Lifting his brows, the shorter man silently asked why he was there.

Twilight then shoved a stack of cash in his face and whispered, "I need Yuri Briar's address. Fast."

"Whoa…. Calm down," Frankie furrowed his brow and eyeing the amount of money being offered, "Why don't you just ask Yor?"

"She's supposed to be with him right now."

"Then why would you need his address? Nothing will go wrong when the sister is in her brother's home."

"Look, Frankie, just gimme the address….."

Most of the time as an informant, Frankie wouldn't care less of what his information would be used by the spy. But this time, his conscience kicked in. It was not right to disturb a reunion between siblings if there were no urgent reasons behind it.

So instead of giving what the spy wanted, Frankie opted to fold his arm and lean on his shop's door frame, "Why?"

Twilight growled in frustration, "Operation Strix's fate is on the line here, Frankie…."

"If Yor didn't give you the address, then there's a possibility that she didn't want to get disturbed. So you better tell me the urgent reason, or else…."

The blond man sighed and finally relented, "Fine. Yuri is sick, and Yor went to his apartment to take care of him."

"So???"

"This is the third day she took care of him."

"And which part is wrong with that?"

"The part where we play as good husband and wife. She promised to call me each day at our agreeable time. Today she didn't."

Ah….. he misses her….

"People might get suspicious if suddenly a wife doesn't contact the husband. And this is the SSS officers house we're talking about."

And he worries about her…..

"If other SSS officers sniffed about these oddities, Operation Strix's fate is in danger!"

Frankie gave Twilight a ridiculous look when hearing all the lousy excuses. The informant then sighed and asked, "And what is the time she usually called?"

"4 pm."

He glanced at the clock in his shop, "That's not even an hour late yet….."

"Here, I'll double the amount. Just gimme the address already."

Taking a deep breath, Frankie then took a piece of paper, wrote down the address, and gave it to him, "Look, just don't make any scene, allright?"

"Of course! I'm just playing my part as the good husband."

Frankie just shook his head.

"Oh, and this is the key to my apartment. Anya should be home in an hour."

The shorter man just took the key and waved at the already running figure.

[folkreid]

champagne problems

WARNINGS❗️: mentions of spencer's drug addiction.

TYPE: angst with fluff ending.

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

SONG: champagne problems- Taylor Swift

FLASHBACK

"I think i'm ready" Spencer whispered to himself. Today was the day. He was proposing to the love of his life. He looks into the mirror, finishing the last touches to his outfit which was mainly just a simple blue tie to top off his white collard shirt.

He drives to her house. He was as nervous as he was the first time they went on a date. Their first date was a cute little picnic on a cliff. Y/n had told Spencer prior she was terrified of heights. He took her to the cliff. "You're always safe with me. I'll keep you safe from all your fears" he told Y/n while she was on the edge of the cliff not so scared anymore. She felt more safe with Spencer.

Y/n and Spencer where the perfect couple. They hardly fought. They were each other's comfort, they needed each other and that's all. Y/n always tells Spencer that he's her source of happiness. He's her world. He's her light. Spencer feels the same way. Y/n was very affectionate which took Spencer some getting used to. Eventually he was physically affectionate with her. Really affectionate.

Spencer knocks on Y/n's door after a while. Ten minutes of deciding if he should go through with it or not. He almost ran away from the nerves. "Man up" he told himself. He remembered what his friends Morgan and Hotch told him.

Y/n opens the door wearing a beautiful peach dress. Spencer bought it for her because he accidentally spilled coffee on her favorite dress. She topped it off with her sparkly gray heals. "Hi babe" Y/n softly smiles. "H-hi" Spencer responds in awe of her. He's more focused on Y/n then what he's saying. Usually he'll greet her with "Hi love" or "Hey sweetheart". Y/n noticed Spencer's nervousness, she didn't think much of it. Spencer often got nervous around her. He once told her "I don't think the feeling from the first time I saw you will ever go away". Y/n adored Spencer. He was her heart and soul.

"Y-you look beautiful" he stuttered in amaze of his girlfriend, hopefully soon to be fiancé. Y/n laughed a little. The sight of her boyfriend standing there awkwardly was slightly amusing. "Thank you Spencer you look handsome as well" Y/n gives a small kiss to Spencer. She follows him into the street. Spencer opens the door for her and allows her to climb in. They start driving, Y/n eventually noticed where they were at. Her eyes lit up. Her heart pounding. The cliff from their first date.

"Spence" she whispered. The boy looked over to her. "Yeah?" he replied softly. Y/n looked him in the eyes and felt how much he loved her. She smiled to herself, she smiled about the thought of Spencer. She didn't even have to say anything she just wanted to make sure this was all real. It was.

He parked on the cliff. Y/n gets out the car going over to Spencer who was at the back of the car getting stuff from the trunk. Y/n notices the picnic supplies and her heart melts. "Are we having a picnic like our first date" she excitedly squeals. Spencer nodded staring at her. She jumps, wrapping her arms around Spencer's lanky frame. "I love you, I love you, I love you" she squeezes him tightly. "I love you more" Spencer kisses her forehead admiring the way she got excited over something as simple as a picnic.

"She deserves the world" Spencer thinks to himself. They go to the edge of the cliff like their first date. Spencer lies down a blanket with some fruit and champagne. Y/n sits down on her knees staring at Spencer. "Im really happy" Y/n randomly says staring at the boy who was pouring some champagne into her cup. "So am I" he looks up with almost husky look in his eyes. Y/n took a sip of her champagne before standing up. "Come here" she motions to Spencer. Spencer stands up and walks over to her. Y/n quickly puts on her favorite song.

The song was about being in love and how it was such a beautiful rare thing. Y/n put her head to Spencer's chest wrapping her arms around his torso. "Dance with me" Y/n whispers to Spencer in a calm voice. "I don't know how to dance" Spencer replied with a hint of embarrassment and disappointment in his voice. "Neither do I" Y/n laughs. He grabs her hand and starts moving his feet. They were tripping over each other but they didn't care. They laughed and continued. Spencer turned Y/n so that her back was to his chest. They looked out into the abyss of the night.

Spencer planted small kisses on Y/n's neck. She absorbs the feeling. This is all she's ever wanted. Spencer reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small velvet box. Y/n turns around with widen eyes watching Spencer kneel on the floor. "Y/n Y/l/n you have been my best friend for the past five years. We've been dating for the past two. These two years that i've gotten to call you mine have been amazing. I want to make you mine forever. Your eyes are the light of my life. Your smile warms my soul. I'll never get over the feeling you give me Y/n. Will you marry me?"

Y/n is in shock. She hesitates before saying anything. "Spencer I- I can't" her lip shivers. "W-what" Spencer cries. "I'm sorry we're too y-young i'm not ready for that kind of commitment" she says before running away into the night. "Y/n come back" Spencer cries feeling his heart break. Y/n runs off to a local gas station. She calls an uber and she heads back home. "Y/n" Spencer sobs lying on the grass. He finally collects himself and packs all the things back into his car.

At his apartment Spencer sluggishly walks in and flops on the bed. He picks up his phone and dials Y/n's number. "Hey it's Y/n, if i'm not answering now i'll probably never answer don't call back" he heard her voicemail. He sobbed into the phone. "Y/n please come back"  he begged. "Please, please, please" he desperately calls out. He hangs up and cries himself to sleep.

Y/n on the other hand was having a panic attack. "Did I make the right decision" "I'm a terrible person how can I hurt him" "He hates me now". All these thoughts running through her mind. She felt like she could hardly breathe. She climbed into her uber. "Hon are you okay" the older lady asked looking in the mirror. "I- I don't know" Y/n replied trying to steady her breathing.

"I'll put some calming music if you need something tell me" she smiled to Y/n. "T-thank you" Y/n tried to relax. After a while she finally relaxed but she was still unsure of her decision. "Can I ask for some advice" Y/n speaks up. "Of course honey" the lady responded with support. "My boyfriend proposed to me. We've been together for the past two years but I feel like we're to young. I'm not ready for that type of commitment. I have a life to live." Y/n rants.

"You see how you said 'I have a life to live.'?" she started. Y/n nods waiting for her continuation. "Think to yourself. Is it a life you want to live with him?" Y/n notices she's at her apartment. "I guess i'll have to think about that. Thank you" she responds before jumping out of the car.

END OF FLASHBACK

Spencer sobbed into his pillow for the third time today. It was only twelve AM. He's asked for time off of work because of how broken he felt. Spencer never took time off. He loves work but the pain was to much to handle. He was worried for himself. Worried he would do something he promised himself he wouldn't.

Spencer walks over to his drawer. He frantically looks for anything that belonged to his beloved Y/n. "Please" he begged the universe. As if the universe was listening he finally found one of Y/n's old shirts. He lies his head on his pillow closing his eyes, tears shedding from them. "I miss you" he sobbed into her shirt.

He inhaled Y/n's smell. "Please come back" he cries some more. Spencers mind is racing. All these thoughts going through his head. He doesn't want to feel. So what does he think of?. Dilaudid. He kept one of his bottles and syringes. He didn't know why. He was ashamed of it. But he craved it so bad.

He quickly climbed out of bed, lying on the floor grabbing the small box he hid under his bed and got the key to it. He opened it to see the small bottle and syringe. He picks up the syringe and almost flinches at the sight of it. "Don't do this" Spencer thinks to himself. "I- I need her, if I can't have her I can have this" he picked up the small bottle. Right there and then he knew it would go to far if he didn't stop now. He got his phone and dialed Y/n's number.

After one ring Y/n answers. She hasn't been answering his calls at all. "Y/n" he sobbed. Y/n could hear the pain in his voice. She couldn't handle it, she immediately sobbed. "P-Please I need you. I need you now Y/n I- I have... I have Dilaudid. I'm craving please just come" he desperately sobbed into the phone. Y/n was very upset about the fact he had some in the first place but it wasn't the time for a lecture. "I'm on my way don't do anything stupid"

Y/n barged into his room. "Baby?" she looks at him crying on the floor. She goes down to him. "Baby" tears fall out of her eyes at the sight of Spencer. "Y/n" he cries into her arms. She brings him back up on the bed and lies him down. "I've missed you" he cries. "Without you all the bad feelings came back" Spencer sobs into Y/n's shirt wetting it. "It's okay baby i'm here now, let's get you in the shower okay?" he nodded getting up and following Y/n into the restroom.

Y/n starts the running warm water in the bath. She gets the bottle of bubble bath and poured it in. I mix it around watching bubbles sudd up. Spencer was sitting on the toilet seat waiting for Y/n's approval to start getting undressed. Y/n walked over to Spencer and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He slips it off his arms and takes off his belt, pants, and boxers. "Get in" you tell him. He climbs in slowly letting the water warm him.

"Can you get in with me?" he asks. You shake your head up and down and remove your clothing. You get in slowly and lie your head on his chest. "Can I wash your hair?" you ask. He nods and you get on your knees and put them on the outside of his legs. you grab the shampoo and open up the cap, pouring some onto your hands. You lean in to scrub his scalp, it looked like he hadn't showered in a while. Spencer placed a kiss on one of your boobs. "Spencer i'm trying to wash your hair" you tell him. "Well they were in my face what was I supposed to do" he teases.

You grab a cup that was on the side of the tub and fill it with water. You place your hand on Spencers forehead, making sure the water wouldn't get into his eyes. You pour the water into his hair and take out all the soapy shampoo. All he does is stare up at you and look at your boobs, occasionally touching them. You grab conditioner, pouring some into his hair letting it sit for a bit. You then rinse it out.

"Wash your body" you throw his washcloth at him. He grabs the soap and washes himself. "Can I wash your hair now" he asked. You nod and he repeats the same actions to you as you did to him.

You guys both get out, he puts on some sweatpants and a white shirt. He throws me his CalTech hoodie that smelled just like him. He was very proud of all his accomplishments, he wore his CalTech hoodie often which you love.

The two of you lie in bed together. You wrap your hands around his torso and stroke his hair. "How are the cravings" you softly ask, yes it was a sensitive subject to Spencer but it was one to you also. You never did drugs but the only reason was because you saw what it did to your parents.

"They're gone now. You make all the bad feelings go away" he admits. "Good. I'm not leaving."

He looks up with tears in his eyes. "You arent?"

"No i'm not" I kiss his forehead. "But we have to talk about it"

He sits up. "Why'd you have dilaudid, Spencer?"

"I saved some I don't know why. I'm sorry"

"Do you have anymore?" he shakes his head no. You grab the bottle and syringe that was on his desk. You walk over to his window. "Goodbye Spencer's demons" you throw both items out of the window watching it fall down to the floor. Spencer comes to stand next to you kissing the top of your head. You turn around to him.

"Now about this proposal stuff" you start. He shifts his stance getting uncomfortable. "I'm sorry Spencer. I was scared because we are young you know? But I realized that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So if you'll still have me"

"Y/n will you marry me" he cuts you off. You nod your head frantically. "I love you so much" he planted kisses all over your face. "I love you more"

"Promise me we don't have to rush into getting married" you asked still slightly scared. "Of course my love"

[vintagedolan]

dark (part two)

this is a continuation of dark, which you can read here

after the break in, you try to put on your brave face, but you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be

word count: 4.6k

warnings/tags: dark themes

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Nothing felt worse than overstaying your welcome, and although he would never say anything, you felt bad for taking up so much of Nick’s space in his already small apartment. So, you finally put your foot down on the third night in the twin bed, sitting up to look at Grayson as he laid against the pillows.

“We’re going back tomorrow. We aren’t gonna just hide out here.” 

“Are you ready to go back?” There was no pity in his tone, just sincere concern as he rested his hand on your hip, rubbing circles. He was constantly touching you now, a reassurance for him more than for you.

“No, but we don’t really have a choice do we?” You let out a dry laugh, resisting the urge to scratch at the scab on your neck. It was still a bit tender, but you’d refused the bandage - it just made it more noticeable, put you on edge.

“Of course we do. We aren’t going back until you’re 100% ready. I mean that.”

“Grayson. I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be 100% ready,” you admitted, hating that you sounded a bit weak, a bit scared. You’d never admit anything like that to anyone but Grayson, and you watched carefully to see how he was going to take it. It was like clicking through pictures on a ViewMaster, each one changing rapidly before your eyes - sadness, anger, fear, uncertainty. It was killing him to see you, his strong girl, feeling fragile.

“Hey. C’mere.” He didn’t wait for you, instead just pulled you tightly against his chest, knowing that at least if you were in his arms he could keep you safe. “We’ll rent a different house or something. Hell, I’ll buy a new house, sell the one we have.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you joked, but even in the darkness of the room you could tell there was nothing humorous about it to him. His arms only tightened.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make you feel safe again, and if that’s what I have to do then that’s what I’ll do.” 

And Grayson was a man of his word.

It was mostly subtle things, and nothing out of the ordinary. Grayson was a protective man after all, and always had been, even in the first days of your relationship. But now, it was just that tiny bit more noticeable. Instead of resting his hand on the small of your back when you walked to the car the next morning, he held onto your hip, pressed you up against his side until you were safe in the passenger seat. He kept a hand on your thigh in the car, too focused on making sure you were okay to even listen to the music he put on. He put smooth cat on autopilot, knowing he was too focused on you to react quickly if he needed to.

You liked to think that you kept it together well, that you didn’t let any of the panic show. The tightening of your stomach as you got off the interstate, the quickening flutter of your heart when the tesla made the turn onto their street. But it was harder to hide your breathing when the gates came into view, the gates that used to make you feel so safe and secure. Grayson stopped at the end of the driveway, pulling his phone out and calling Ethan. 

“Yo. We’re here, can you unlock the gates?” A beat of silence. “Yeah, yeah we’re good. See you in a minute.” 

It took a moment before the gates swung open, revealing the rest of the driveway and the house. It looked less intimidating in the daylight despite the dark exterior, and you forced a deep breath in and out of your lungs. You’re safe. Grayson’s right here, he’s safe. You’re okay. The little mantra played in your head as you willed yourself to pull it together, to keep your chin high as he put the car in park. Just breathe in, and breathe out. That’s all you had to do.

Everything looked the same - the pull up rings were still hanging from the tree at the side of the yard, the tiny shed still stood beautiful and warm. It was Grayson’s house, your house, and you weren’t going to someone take that from you. It was a bit easier to breathe when Ethan appeared outside the front door, smile wide and welcoming. You realized how much you’d missed him, and you clung to that feeling, focused in on it instead of the daunting task of going back in the house. 

Grayson was two steps behind you as you got out of the car, heading up the sidewalk before you could overthink it, eyes on Ethan. 

You weren’t sure how his hugs were so different than Grayson’s but they were. A different comfort came over you when he wrapped you up - not better, just different. 

“Missed you bub, how’re you feeling?” 

You weren’t sure how to answer such a loaded question, so you gave him a simple “I’m okay. I missed you too” and he let it slide instead of prying like he usually would.

You breathed him in and settled yourself before he moved on to Grayson, pulling him into a hug that you knew was probably going to last a moment. You reached for the door, surprised when it held firm in the frame. Ethan had just come outside, it shouldn’t be locked, but you dug around your purse for your key anyways.

“Oh, we changed the locks, here I’ll get it.” Ethan perked up, pulling out his phone. He pressed a few things on his screen and held his finger down before you heard the click that signified the door had unlocked. “I’ll show you all, c’mon.” 

Your feet didn’t move until you felt Grayson next to you, tall and strong and stable. He laced his fingers with yours quickly, squeezing three times like he always did - a small reassurance that he was there. You resisted the urge to close your eyes, to turn around and run back to the car. Instead, you looked over at Grayson, anchoring yourself to him as best you could before you finally walked inside. 

It didn’t look any different, but it felt different. The vinyls and play button had been placed back on their shelves, the blanket Ethan always used and never folded was piled up on the couch like always instead of folded in the basket. It smelled like the new wakeheart candles, a mixture because they could never decide which one to burn. 

“You okay?” Grayson’s voice was in your ear, low and warm as he moved his hand from yours and wrapped it around your waist. Being held up against him soothed you more than you realized and you were grateful to have the pressure to anchor you, especially as you realized where Ethan had settled.

The kitchen.

You’d thought coming back in the day would make it easier, but the light from the windows did no good. As soon as you rounded the corner you could see it perfectly, see where you’d been standing, where he’d been standing, feel his arm holding you captive, the knife on your throat. Your eyes flickered to the counter, relieved to see that someone had thought to put the knife block away for your sake. 

Grayson reacted to you as you reacted to the room, immediately moving in front of you, blocking your view of anything but him. You shifted your focus to his face, tracing your gaze over all those familiar features - the spot in his eyes where the green shifted to brown, the scar on his chin, the stubble on his cheeks. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Hey, you’re okay. We don’t have to do this in here, not today.” 

He took your silence as an answer, turning and moving down the hallway to the podcast studio, Ethan getting up to follow. There was something soothing about the stillness of the studio when you all made it in and closed the door - no sound getting in, no extra light. Contained... controllable. 

It gave you the stability you needed to find your voice.

“We changed the locks. So that means he got in through the door?” You looked at Ethan, who was sitting on the table facing you and Grayson on the couch, knowing he would have gotten the full story from the detectives. It was in his personality to know every detail when something went wrong.

“Yeah. He paid off one of our construction guys to steal a key and make him a copy, told him he’d give him a cut after he sold everything he was gonna steal. He snuck over the fence in the back, so we added to that, made it taller and put a sensor there. And now the locks are only openable by our phones, and our fingerprints. Here, you can look.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the app. You scrolled through as he kept explaining, noticing all the different options and settings.

“So we can arm any door or window from the app now, and unlock or lock the doors. They’re all electric now, but we can also make it where it requires a key if we want. And you have to put your fingerprint in, so even if someone gets a hold of your phone they can’t access the house. We added more cameras outside too, and theres an option to upgrade and do in house cameras as well, but I wanted to see how you guys felt about that.” 

“Thats up to Y/N,” Grayson said, pulling you out of your head a bit as you looked up from the phone.

“Why is it up to me?” 

“If it’ll make you feel safer then we’ll do it. I mean, we haven’t done in house cameras before because people can hack that shit, but if it’ll make you feel better we’ll do it.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the stress you were under or his casual tone, but his words rubbed you the wrong way for the first time since everything had happened.

“Look, I know that I’m the one with the cut on my throat.” Grayson flinched at your words, hand tightening on your thigh. “But this dude broke into your house.”

“Our house,” Ethan corrected. He never wanted you to feel like it was any less your house than his or Graysons despite the fact that you hadn’t paid for any of it. 

“Okay our house. Still, I’m not the only one in this equation. This is a group thing.”

“A family thing,” Grayson mused, any annoyance you had with him fading away at his sweet words.

“A family thing. Which means it needs to be a family decision. And yeah, out of the three of us I’m probably gonna have the hardest time with everything because.... well, because.” You didn’t have to go into detail - just the way that their shoulders tightened told you that they were seeing the same thing in their head. “But I want you guys to feel safe too. Cause it could have been either of you. And the thought of it happening to you guys scares me just as much as the idea of it happening to me again. Hell, it scares me more.” You couldn’t dwell on that, just the brief thought of either of them in danger making your heart skip.

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Ethan reached out a hand for yours and you took it, watching as he linked up with Grayson’s left, and when your hand found Grayson’s right you sighed, squeezing both of them as the tears started to prickle.

“We’re gonna take care of each other. Like always. Like family. Whatever we gotta do. Yeah?” Grayson was sniffling too though he tried to hide it with a smile at the end. His lip quivered anyways.

“Yeah. Always. Group hug?” Ethan spoke up.

You nodded, and the twins stood up in sync, you one beat behind before the three of you stepped together and hugged. You were a bit dwarfed by both of them, tall and broad, but the way they held you to them made you feel safer than you had since you entered the house. 

“I vote no to the cameras by the way,” Ethan said over your head after a moment. You all leaned back so you could see each other, still holding on. 

“I know I’m gonna hit the wrong thing and pick the wrong camera at the wrong time. It’s just my luck bro. Seriously.” 

The mental image of you and Grayson in a compromising position on Ethan’s tiny screen was probably the only thing that could have gotten a true laugh out of you, and you were happy that it did. It cut the unintentional tension in a way that only Ethan could. The three of you squeezed together again before you let go, though Grayson’s hand stayed on your back. 

“Okay, enough with the heavy. I’m hungry, but the kitchen is obviously a no go for mwah so... Monty’s?” 

��Hell yeah, I’m driving, since you all jacked my car for three days.” 

“You told us to take it!” Grayson argued.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss her,” he countered, pulling the door of the studio open and leading the way out.

You were able to keep your mind off of everything for the most part once you were back outside and in the tesla. You got Monty’s to go and ate in the parking lot, caught up on everything regarding the candle launch prep and the podcast between bites of fries and sips of milkshakes. 

You’d hoped the dread wouldn’t come back when you made it home, but alas, the pit returned to your stomach at the movement of the gates. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

The sun was setting over the house. Most days it would be beautiful. You’d probably pull your phone out, run around to the back yard to get a better picture, maybe even have Grayson boost you up onto the roof.

But not that night.

Now, it was just a reminder that darkness was coming, and you were going to have to face the house again. The front door seemed to mock you after it closed behind Ethan as you stood frozen in the driveway. It was staring you down, daring you to try it again, to see if you could keep it together better than you had earlier. 

“We can go somewhere else. We don’t have to sleep here tonight.” Grayson’s voice was low enough that Ethan couldn’t hear. “We can go to Ryan’s.”

“Coop is there, you’d die in your sleep,” you countered, accidentally admitting you’d already considered it.

“I have my inhaler, I’d manage. Or we can go to Ster’s.”

“We’re sleeping here. I have to get over it.” 

“Woah, hey,” he turned you by your hip, a mixture of disbelief and anger in his eyes. “None of that. Don’t put that pressure on yourself.” 

“I just mean that I can’t keep avoiding it. I gotta at least try to do it. I love this place, I don’t wanna be scared of it.” 

He searched your face, looked for anything he could read. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you just focused in on his features again. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Okay. But you have to promise me that you’ll tell me if it’s too much. Even if it’s just a little bit too much. Okay? You promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.” 

“Okay. Then we’ll try.” It caught you a bit by surprise when he leaned down to kiss you, hand coming up to your jaw. You knew his fingers grazed over your cut, knew he felt it, pretended like he didn’t. You pretended too. “I’m proud of you. My strong girl.” 

You wanted to deflect it, make a joke about how he was definitely stronger even though you knew that wasn’t what he meant. Anything to keep your heart from swelling up, overwhelmed as it usually was by the fact that he loved you as much as he did, somehow. Instead you just wrapped your arms around his waist and let him guide you back into the house. 

“Let me set up your alls phones before we go to bed, so you can do shit in the morning if you want,” Ethan said from the kitchen when you appeared. You handed your phone over, let him do what he wanted as you tried to process everything in the kitchen.

The spot two steps to the left of the sink was where he’d trapped you. But it was also where you had tried Grayson’s french toast for the first time, watched his face light up when you told him it was perfect. The spot on the counter where the knife block was supposed to sit used to be where the speaker sat, the source of so many late night ice cream dance party nights, the background noise to the tiger cub wrestling matches the boys sometimes had. You focused on those memories, hoping they’d override the most recent, the persistent one that kept nagging at the edge of your mind as you fought against it.

Ethan passed your phone back after a minute, moving on to Grayson’s. You fiddled with the settings, glad to see that you could check any of the outside cameras that you wanted to. You could arm and unarm the door, see the last time it had been opened and by who. It was a complex system, and you didn’t even want to think about how much it cost - you knew Grayson would say it didn’t matter anyways.

Once Grayson’s phone was done you gave Ethan a final goodnight hug before the two of you headed towards your room. You held your breath a bit when you went around the corner - an unconscious habit that would unfortunately stick around for almost a year. You kept your hands at your sides as you walked, not wanting to touch the wall like you had that night, not knowing if it would cause a reaction in you or not.

Getting to the bedroom made you breathe a bit easier. The bed was made, but definitely by Ethan considering the pillows were on the wrong side. You still smiled at the gesture, knowing he’d come in and made it welcoming for you to come back to. But seeing the window above the bed, the closet doors, the general lack of light - so many places for someone to hide, to sneak up on you, to wait for when you aren’t looking. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Do you wanna shower? I know you said that shampoo at Nick’s was weird, it might feel good to use your own stuff,” Gray offered, obviously seeing that you weren’t sure what to do.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s probably a good idea.” 

You moved to the drawers, grabbing a pair of underwear and one of Grayson’s shirts before you headed towards the bathroom. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No, no it’s okay. I got it,” you answered on instinct. Surely, surely you could handle showering by yourself. 

“Oh. Okay.” The worry in his voice rang like a bell, and you frowned.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just... can you leave the door open? Don’t like you being where I can’t see you right now.” It was his turn to be a bit shy. Grayson never liked acting like he needed help, never liked admitting that he had a weakness. You were alike in that way. The fact that he even said anything made you want to melt into a puddle.

“Of course I can baby. I’ll be quick.”

“I’m gonna get some work done, just yell if you need me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You leaned over on the bed, giving him a quick kiss before you went into the bathroom, having to stop yourself from closing the door. Grayson’s new bathroom was very aesthetically pleasing, with the dark green tiles and the marble fixtures. It was cozy enough, and you’d been in it enough times that you felt comfortable there as you brushed your hair.

Grayson’s eyes flickered away from his laptop when you stripped down, watching until you got under the stream of water in the shower. He cursed himself for getting the tempered glass that you couldn’t see more than an outline through. 

You’d been in that shower so many times, but something about this time just felt... off. You couldn’t place it - maybe you felt exposed because you were naked, or claustrophobic because of being closed in. You tried to swallow it down, ignore it, distract yourself by starting your usual routine, lathering up your hair with shampoo. Still, your heartbeat sped up, thundering in your chest, so loud it was in your ears.

You’re safe. Grayson’s right here, he’s safe. You’re okay.

You’re safe. Grayson’s right here, he’s safe. You’re okay.

You’re safe. Grayson’s right here, he’s safe. You’re okay. 

But Grayson wasn’t right there, he was too far away, out of your sight. He could be in trouble, he could be in danger, you’d had no idea that there had been a man in the house before, who was to say there wasn’t another one now?

You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t focus, couldn’t move as everything started to close in around you.

“Gra- Grayson!” You yelled it, probably louder than you needed to. 

The only time Grayson had ever heard you sound like that was a few nights ago, and his blood ran cold.

“Y/N? Baby?!” He was on his feet, laptop thrown to the side without a care as he ran into the bathroom, throwing the shower door open. 

The panic in your eyes was blatant, naked chest heaving as you tried to breathe. And then he as in the water with you, holding onto you.

“Shh, shh shh shh I’m here, I’m here, you’re okay.” He reached past you, turned the water off to quiet everything down as he pulled you to his chest. You clung to his now soaked t-shirt, unable to form any words. 

“You’re safe, nobody is gonna hurt us, I’ve got you. Just breathe with me angel, just breathe.” You heard his words through one ear, but the vibration of his chest in the other was more soothing than anything he could say. Just knowing he was there and safe helped you to fill your lungs again little by little, each breath getting deeper, slower as he held you, rested his cheek on your shampoo covered head, let you get yourself calmed down. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you panic, so he knew that letting go of you wasn’t going to help anything. So when he shifted and you clung to him on instinct he immediately moved to reassurances.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here. Let’s get your hair washed out and get you dried off, you’re shivering. I’m staying, I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded against him, let him reach around you and turn the water back on. It was cold at first, making you jump until the hot water caught up and rained down over you again. 

“You’re gonna get all wet,” you mumbled, looking down at his soaked sweatpants.

“That’s why we have a dryer. Lean your head back, I gotcha.” 

You did as he asked, focusing in on the feeling of his hands on your scalp to avoid the uncomfort of having to close your eyes. He did it as quickly as he could, running his hands through the way he’d seen his mom do so many times, making sure he got all the suds out before he was reaching for the handle again and turning it off.

“Hang on just a sec.” He moved quickly to shed off all his wet clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner of the shower to be taken care of later - his only concern was you. You let him lead you through the motions, from stepping out of the shower to drying off, stepping into your undies and pulling his shirt over your head. For once, it didn’t effect you that he was fully naked in front of you - you were too distracted, too overwhelmed by everything he was doing for you, the way he took care of you like it was his favorite thing to do. If you asked him, he would say that it was.

Eventually he moved the two of you into the bedroom, grabbing a towel on the way out so he could dry himself the rest of the way off and pull on a pair of clean boxers. He looked at you for a moment, and then he shook his head.

“We’re not sleeping in here tonight.” 

“Grayson-”

“We can stay in the house, but we can’t sleep in here yet. I can’t sleep in here yet, so I know you aren’t going to sleep either. But I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

You nodded, secretly relieved at the thought of not having to sleep in the bed. 

“Okay, grab the pillows, and I’ll get the comforter,” he instructed. You did as he asked, waiting for him to get situated and take your hand before he led you out of the room. You still held your breath when you went around the corner, letting it out when you saw that no one was there. 

He turned into the pod studio, letting you in first before he closed the door behind him. It was silent, but in a comforting way, everything but Grayson muffled. 

“I don’t know if this is gonna work, but I felt good in here earlier. Safe. So I think we should give it a shot in here tonight. Whadda you think?” 

“I feel safe in here too,” you murmured as an acceptance, and at your word he got to work. You expected him to move over to the couch but instead he put the comforter down on the rug on the floor. You followed his lead and moved the pillows to the top of it, waiting.

Finally, he laid down at around the midway mark of the width and reached up for you to join him. Putting your confusion aside you crawled down to him and curled up against his chest, unwilling to put even an inch between you if you didn’t have to. His plan came together when he threw the extra half of the comforter over the top of you both, creating a bit of a cocoon. Any other night, you would have been worried about sleeping on the hard floor, or getting too hot. But not that night. That night it was exactly what you needed. Just you and him, safe and warm and together.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I don’t know what caused that,” you mumbled, tracing patterns over his heart, a few 47s, a few shapes.

“You know you don’t have to apologize to me. For anything.” 

“You don’t like to see me upset,” you countered.

“Of course I don’t. Would be kinda fucked up if I did. But if you need me, I’m gonna be there. Even if it’s just to help you wash out your hair,” he teased, resting his cheek on your forehead.

“Your ‘strong girl’ who can’t even get through a solo shower,” you scoffed, poking fun at yourself.

“Always my strong girl, no matter what. But strongest when she admits she needs help.” 

You couldn’t find the words to answer, and he didn’t ask for them. Instead, he just kissed your forehead, a silent promise to keep you safe through the night, and every night after that.