#I’ve had this idea since the movie dropped but didn’t have the strength to draw it out ��

[chloesimaginationthings]

What if Mike got the bad ending of the FNAF movie..

[watchmegetobsessed]

SLEEPLESS

a/n: omg! it's been so long since i last wrote something for harry so it feels a bit weird but in a good way to be back. i've been spending more time offline so writing hasn't been going that fast like before, but im working on a few other stuff too! just please be patient with me, im trying my besti swear! so now enjoy this oneshot of two oblivious and stupid roommates who start sharing a bed...

pairing: Roommate!Harry x reader

word count: 8.1k

masterlist

Living with three boys has its perks but also a lot of downsides too. It’s not how you planned, you were set to move in with one of your friends from second year, but she bailed on you last minute, leaving you with no place to live when most of the houses were already taken for the next at least one year. You were bracing yourself to sleep under a bridge or something already when your heroes came along.

You went to high school with Harry Niall and Louis, but you weren’t exactly in the same friend group, just knew about each other. Then you ended up in the same Lit class freshman year with Harry and he was basically your pass into their little group. You hit it off pretty easily and you always wondered why you didn’t become friends before college. Later you had two more classes with him in the second semester and it was just all a coincidence that he found out about your living situation.

“Why don’t you move in with us?” he prompted one afternoon when you were studying together in the library.

“I’m not sharing a room with any of you, Harry,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“You wouldn’t have to. We had a fourth mate living with us but he dropped out about a month ago. You could take his bedroom.”

“Are for real? You should talk about it with the boys first, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind it. They like you too and if I’m being honest, the place could use the touch of a woman,” he smirked and you just rolled your eyes, but you were incredibly thankful for the offer.

So after talking with Niall and Louis about it and once they gave their amens on the situation, you officially moved in with the three of them.

You’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been times when you thought about choosing the bridge, living with boys is not exactly a dream. They are messy, sometimes loud and oblivious about certain things women do and need. You’ll never forget Niall’s face when you packed the shelf above the toilet with your tampons and pads. The horror in his eyes as he examined all the different sizes and types.

“But why so many? I don’t get it why you need the large ones and the mini ones too,” he huffed.

“Because I vary them according to the strength of my flow.”

“Bless you,” he scoffed and just walked away.

They tend to leave their clothes around the house and they don’t always realize when it’s time to let some fresh air into the place either. Harry has a sixth sense wanting to use the bathroom when you’re in and Louis always forgets to get rid of his spoiled food from the fridge. Tini things that surely got you thinking if it was a good idea to move in with them. But then there are times when you can’t even imagine sharing a home with anyone else than these three idiots.

The way Harry always leaves you a cup of coffee on the counter when he has an early class on mondays and wednesdays, how Niall always waits for you to get home after your night shifts at the restaurant you’ve been working at, but he always just says he was watching Supernatural on TV. You love that Louis goes out of his way to get you your favorite pastry for breakfast on sundays when he goes for his morning runs. But the absolute best is that you never feel alone or bored with these three around. Something is always happening and they make sure to involve you in everything, making you feel like part of their little pack.

Tonight is Thursday and Thursdays are movie nights in your home. It’s been a tradition since the first week and you haven’t missed any of them. Sitting on the couch at your usual spot, you laugh as Niall growls in annoyance when you suggest to watch another rom-com.

“Not again!” he protests, sitting on the floor by the coffee table you and Harry thrifted a few months ago after the previous one was broken at a smaller party held in the house.

“Why? I bet Harry would love it!” you grin, glancing at the guy in talk who is now entering the room with a big bowl of popcorn.

“Of course he would, because he is a pussy! And the two of you always team up, dragging Louis with you so I can never watch something I enjoy!” Niall whines as Harry sits next to you, not too bothered by his friend’s cries.

“Come on, I bet you enjoyed Crazy, Stupid Love last week!” you laugh, remembering how he whined for the first part, then fell asleep at the end.

“Love, if you think that was enjoyment, I wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend,” Niall scoffs and you gasp at his reply.

“Hey!” you snap at him, but can’t help laughing. This is how it always goes with you and Niall, the non-stop bickering can sometimes drive Harry and Lou insane.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” Harry asks, throwing some popcorn into his mouth as he gets comfortable, an arm resting on the back of the couch behind you, the other one busy with the snack in his lap.

“There is this new horror I’ve been dying to see!” Niall’s blue eyes light up right away, but you’re fast to break that shine.

“Nah, no way. I’m not watching a horror movie.”

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking hate them and they scare the shit out of me.”

“That’s like the whole point!” he protests, but you shake your head no again.

“What are you fighting about again?” Louis asks, walking into the room after his quick shower, the smell of his body wash filling the room for a few moments.

“I want to watch a horror movie, but Y/N is a little baby and she doesn’t want to.”

“I’m not a baby! I just don’t enjoy watching people get killed or demons sucking the life out of someone!” Niall just rolls his eyes at your response.

“But it’s always what you or Harry wants to watch, why can’t I choose just this once?”

“That’s not true, we watch movies you like too!” you retort, but Niall gives you an unimpressed look. “We watched that crime thing, that was your choice!”

“That was three months ago, Y/N,” he sighs and as you do some quick math you realize that he is right.

“Hey, he has a point. Let’s just watch what he wants this one time, yeah?” Harry curls his arm that’s been on the back of the couch around your shoulder and he pulls you to his side, squeezing you gently.

“But I hate horrors,” you pout, knowing well that it’s already kind of settled, you lost this battle.

“It’s just a movie. And if you get scared in the night, you can sleep at mine,” he offers with a wink that surely makes your heartbeat fasten a bit.

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a tiny crush on Harry, even back in high school, when you didn’t really know him. He was the cool guy, but not the douchebag type, more like the one that was nice to everyone and earned their respect and liking. Getting to know him just proved that he really is a great guy, but you figured he would never feel the same way about you. These three guys only saw you as their sister and that was in a way kinda worse than being friend zoned, but there’s nothing you can do about it, so you just decided to come to peace with your situation. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered when you see him wander around the house in just his boxers or when he gets a little touchy with you, which happens a lot, because that’s just how he is. Hands on your shoulders, a little squeeze on your hips, the gentle touch of his fingers on your back, they happen all the time and they get your pulse up every time. You can only hope it’s not that noticeable.

Niall finally gets what he wants and you agree to watch that stupid horror movie. It doesn’t start off too bad, but it quickly escalates and makes you shudder every time the screen gets a little darker or the music is foreshadowing that something is about to happen.

“Jesus fuck!” you jump a little when the killer appears out of nowhere in the scene.

“You alright?” Harry asks, peeking down at you.

“I fucking hate this dude,” you mumble, rubbing your face with your hands, to get your shit together. Harry chuckles lightly next to you, his arm pulling you to his side close and you gladly sink against him, the warmth of his body giving you some comfort and a sense of safety.

Your eyes are on the screen, but your mind is dancing around how his fingers are delicately running up and down your arm, drawing circles and little shapes on your skin. It could put you to sleep easily, even with the woman screaming on the screen after seeing her husband get killed.

“Just imagine the guy with a funny mustache,” Harry murmurs, leaning closer to you so he doesn’t bother the other two guys with his comment. “Or maybe in a ridiculous outfit.”

“Like… in a onsie?” you ask, squinting your eyes at the screen.

“Could be, yeah,” he chuckles quietly. “Just imagine him running through the woods in a onsie with bunnies all over it.”

You can’t push your laughter down, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t bother the others. Harry just smirks, giving you a squeeze as you’re still melted against his side on the couch, legs pulled up to your chest, while his are spread out in front of him.

“Definitely not that scary,” you giggle and Harry hums in agreement.

“Would you mind getting a fucking room, you guys? You have two, in fact!” Niall snaps at you playfully, when you start laughing again.

“Sorry, sorry!” you clear your throat, your cheeks heating up at the comment, but luckily it’s dark enough to hide your embarrassment. Niall is always quick to make dirty jokes and tease you in a way that makes you nervous, especially when it involves Harry as well. He has made plenty of comments about you and Harry since you’ve moved in, implying that the two of you sometimes act like a couple or that you should hook up. Harry is always quick to shake them off, that’s how you know he couldn’t even take the thought seriously.

At the end of the movie you feel like it wasn’t bad, not with Harry holding you close at least.

“Will you be screaming tonight, Y/N?” Niall teases you, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Either way it’s gonna be your fault.”

“I can live with that!” he laughs, bidding his goodbye before he shuts the door of his bedroom behind him.

You do your usual evening routine, get ready to bed and by the time you’re done in the bathroom all the boys have retired into their rooms. The hallway stands dark in front of you, only a tiny bit of light coming from your bedroom since you left your bedside lamp on in there, but you still can’t help the eerie feeling that washes over you. That movie didn’t sit right with you and now you have to face the aftermath of it.

Switching the lights in the bathroom off you sprint into your bedroom, pictures from the movie flashing in your mind of the killer just jumping out of nowhere. You shut the door and lean your back against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. Tonight is going to be long.

No matter how hard you try, you just can’t fall asleep. You’re way too alerted, opening your eyes at the tiniest of sounds around you, which is unfortunate, because your window is looking over the main street, unlike two other rooms in the house, that are facing the small backyard. Harry and Louis have the luck to have those rooms.

Every time you’re about to fall asleep something from the movie sneaks into your thoughts and you get scared to death. Soon, you realize you won’t be able to sleep on your own tonight.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you wonder if Harry really meant that offer that you can sleep with him or not. Part of you is convinced it was just a joke, but when you hear someone shouting down the street you push your doubts aside and you quickly find yourself making your way to Harry’s room.

You knock on the room lightly, not wanting to wake anyone else up. The last thing you need is Niall seeing you go into Harry’s room in the middle of the night.

No answer comes from inside, but you won’t just leave it at that. Opening the door you’re facing another dark room, barely making out the furniture, but you already know the route by heart. Making it to the bed your eyes finally adjust to the darkness and you can see Harry lying on his side, sleeping peacefully. Squatting down you place a hand to his shoulder and give him a tiny shake.

“Harry?” you call out quietly, but his answer is just a huff. “Harry, it’s me,” you try again, squeezing his arm. He furrows his eyebrows before slowly blinking his eyes open, finding you in his sight.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks in that groggy, low voice you love hearing in the morning so much.

“I can’t… Did you mean that I can sleep here if I’m scared?” you ask, afraid that he might just have a good laugh and send you back to your room. For a long moment, he just blinks at you before nodding his head and you feel relief washing over you.

“Sure,” he hums.

“O-okay then I’ll bring a blanket and take the floor and--”

“Shut up, you are not sleeping on the floor,” he growls, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into bed with him as he scoots over, making you space on the mattress.

It’s a bit weird at first, lying in bed with Harry, especially because it’s just queen sized, so there’s not much space between the two of you, but it seems like Harry doesn’t mind it so why should you?

Your nerves are a lot calmer with Harry next to you, but maybe it’s still because of the movie or because you’re a bit anxious about the whole situation, you just still can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

“Y/N, no one is gonna kill you here,” Harry speaks up surprising you because you thought he has already fallen back asleep.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, trying to sound convincing, but you can’t fool anyone, especially not him.

He huffs deeply and before you could realize what’s happening, Harry’s arm is curled around your waist, pulling you against him, spooning you from behind, the warmth of his body wrapping your figure almost entirely.

“If a murderer comes, they will have to fight me first, alright? Now sleep,” he mumbles against your hair, squeezing you gently. All at once, you couldn’t care about killers and dark shadows around you, because Harry was right there, holding you tight and there was nowhere you wanted to be more than right there.

You slept like a baby. Harry’s closeness kept every nightmare away from you and the morning came with ease. Harry’s phone wakes the two of you up at eight, because he has a morning class at 9.30. The two of you are completely tangled up in each other, lying on your side facing each other, Harry’s arms are wrapped around you, while yours are hugging his waist. Groaning at the sound of his alarm, he rolls to his back to reach for the phone on the nightstand and then he finally turns it off. It’s bright outside, the darkness of the night finally long gone. You’re still groggy when Harry rolls back, his arm coming back around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world and in a sense, it feels like that. But as you both slowly wake up, you realize that you might be a little too close. Slowly but surely you let go of each other, rolling to your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hope I didn’t kick you in my sleep,” you smile at him, peeking over at him, hoping to break the awkwardness of the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, rubbing his eyes, before pushing himself up and off the bed. You follow him with your gaze as he steps to his dresser and grabs a pair of clean underwear. “I’ll put on a coffee while I shower, want one too?” he asks, though you know he could make one for you anyway.

“Sure, thank you,” you nod and he nods back, yawning as he walks out of the room, leaving you lying in his bed, a bit confused and kind of aching to be held by him again.

Two days pass by, everything is going as per usual, neither you nor Harry brings up that you spent the night in his bed that one particular time. Now it’s saturday and you all were planning to go out, but a sudden storm has cancelled your plans, so the evening turned into a cozy, lazy hangout instead of a wild party at some frat house.

Louis decided to work on a paper that’s due in two weeks, Niall has been relentlessly swiping on Tinder while you and Harry are spawled out on the couch, watching some shitty action movie that was on TV, since you both were too lazy to choose one and put it on. Deep down you’re a little happy you don’t have to spend the evening in a crowded, smelly house, drinking cheap alcohol.

Harry gets up from his seat to grab himself a drink just when Niall growls in annoyance.

“What is it?” you ask.

“They keep unmatching with me after we’ve talked a little!”

“Have you thought about the reason?” you smirk at him, knowing well that Niall probably isn’t the easiest to talk to, he surely takes it too far too soon.

“Well they probably don’t like that I ask them if I can go over,” he shrugs, making you laugh.

“You’d go over in the pouring rain?” Harry asks, returning to his spot on the couch. He puts his drink to the coffee table and instead of sitting into his previous position, leaning against the arm of the couch, he lies down, laying his head to your thigh, making your breath hitch for a moment.

“Of course not!” Niall rolls his eyes. “But I thought it would make them think I would do anything for them.”

“It makes you seem desperate,” Harry retorts, earning a questioning look from his friend. “What? It does!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does,” you nod in agreement. “Going over in the middle of a storm just to fuck? Sounds like you’re having a hard time finding someone.”

“Women are so fucking complicated, and for what?!” he growls, before storming off to his bedroom, like an angsty teenager, leaving you and Harry alone.

He doesn’t move, his head stays on your thigh using it as a pillow. His curls are tickling the soft skin on your thigh and you have to fight the urge to play with his hair or scratch his scalp. You stay like this for the rest of the movie and when he gets up you almost want to pull him back.

“Alright, I’m fucked, I’m gonna go to bed,” he yawns, stretching his arms out into the air as he heads into his bedroom. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Harry!” you call after him as you watch his frame disappear down the hallway.

Sighing, you slide down on the couch, cursing under your breath that you’re still so hung up on Harry. You really thought that you had it under control, but lately those damn butterflies are acting up in your stomach at everything he does.

“I’m pathetic,” you mumble under your breath just as the sky rumbles outside with a blinding lightning, making you jump with a squeak. “Shit,” you huff, already knowing that falling asleep will be a pain in the ass. Again.

You’ve always hated storms, they make you think that something bad is about to happen, a tree is about to fall into the window or a lightning will blow up the building. It’s kind of stupid, you know it, but you just can’t help it.

Tossing and turning, you jump every time a lightning flashes somewhere outside and a few seconds later the thunder rips through your whole body, almost making you fall off the bed.

“Oh God,” you let out a shaky breath. You have no idea how long it is until the Storm finally stops and you’d really like to have a good night's sleep. So pushing your anxious thoughts to the side, you get out of bed and head over to Harry’s room once again.

It’s such a deja vu from a few nights ago, as you gently knock on the door you wait again, but this time you actually get an answer.

“Yeah?” you hear him call out from inside and you slowly open the door, peeking your head inside. Harry is lying in bed, his head propped up against the headboard as he is scrolling through his phone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks, putting the phone aside as he sits up.

“I just, I-I know it’s stupid, but I was thinking… I don’t know--”

“Y/N, just tell me, alright? Come on in,” he gestures for you and you slip into the room, closing the door behind you before sitting to the edge of the bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep during storms…” you admit, looking into his eyes, hoping he gets the hint where you want to head with it. He stares back at you for a moment before he scoots over, lifting the covers up, giving you the green light to join him.

Relieved, you climb over to him, making yourself comfortable as he wraps the blanket over you, his arm immediately coming to cradle you, this time pulling you to his chest so your head is laid upon his shoulder, a hand gently placed onto his hard chest, probably right above where his butterfly tattoo is adorning his abdomen.

This is now easily your favorite place. Safe and tight in Harry’s arms, protected from anything and everything, like you’re in a little bubble as soon as you get on his bed.

Lightning strikes outside again and you shiver a little. Harry probably notices it, because he tightens his hold around you, as if it’s his way telling you that he is here and nothing bad is gonna happen. Eventually, you’re able to shut the outside out and only focus on Harry’s warmth, the touch of his hand on your arm and his even breathing. And then finally, you drift off to sleep.

This morning is different from the previous one you spent here. There’s no alarm since it’s Sunday, neither of you have anything in particular to do, so you wake up feeling rested, the Sun shining through his half drawn in curtains, no trace of last night’s storm can be noticed from where you’re lying in bed, the sky is as clear as ever. Sometime during the night you got tangled in a way where Harry is the one now cuddling you, his head lying on your chest, hugging you as if you were a giant teddy bear, his leg thrown between yours, lightly snoring against your sleep shirt. You can only see his mop of hair and the urge to play with them is back, but this time, you give in.

Leaving one hand on his back, you move the other one to his unruly locks, gently playing with one before you comb your fingers through it, lightly scratching his scalp. Harry hums in pleasure, shifting from his dreams back to reality, but he doesn’t move, just keeps humming as you massage his scalp.

“It’s not a good morning, it’s the best,” he mumbles groggily, making you chuckle at his words.

One of his hands is flat against your ribcage and the damned butterflies start dancing when you feel his fingers gently stroke your side as you keep playing with his curls. This feels so idyllic, as if you’ve been like this forever. You wish that was true.

Groaning as he stretches, Harry rolls to his back, making you instantly miss his body pressed against yours. He rubs his eyes, sighing deep as he blinks up at the ceiling a few times, then he turns his head to the side, looking at you.

Just when he is about to say something, outside his door it sounds like someone just broke a pile of plates and it’s followed by Niall’s usual annoyed growl. You both get out of bed to go and check what happened, not even thinking about how it might appear that you both are coming from Harry’s room in the morning.

Harry flings the door open and there is Niall, collecting pieces of a plate from the floor, his breakfast scattered down the hallway as well while he curses under his breath.

“What happened?” Harry asks, picking up a bigger piece from the plate.

“Fucking tripped,” he growls back, glancing up just for a moment, then back down, but then he processes that you’re standing behind Harry, in his room, in the morning. “What the fuck are you doing in Harry’s room?” he bluntly asks, quickly forgetting about the mess he just made.

“What?” you ask nervously, your pulse quickening in an instant. Harry stands up, seemingly not too bothered by Niall’s question.

“You slept in his room?!”

“She did,” Harry answers, leaning against the doorframe.

“Wait, are you two fucking?” Niall’s eyes widen, snapping back and forth between you and Harry.

“Just because two people sleep in the same bed, doesn’t mean they are fucking, Niall,” Harry chuckles, seemingly amused by the situation that’s got your stomach knotted. Louis’ door opens and he walks out, his hair a little messy, but already dressed, a mug halfway filled with coffee in his hand.

“Wha’s this circus out here?” he asks, looking around, his eyes scanning over the mess on the floor.

“Did you know these two are fucking?” Niall asks him and Harry lets his head drop back at his words.

“Are you?” Louis simply questions and you shake your head no.

“We are not. Y/N can’t sleep in a storm so she came over to mine.”

“Funny, she doesn’t come to me when she’s scared,” Niall scoffs.

“I never came to you because you don’t understand that sleeping together doesn’t mean sex,” you retort, though your ears are practically burning from the rising anxiety inside you.

“Wait, whoa. This wasn’t the first time you two slept together?”

“She was scared after your stupid horror movie too,” Harry shrugs.

“Wow, so are you guys a thing now or what?”

“Niall!” Harry growls and you’re not entirely sure what bothers you more. Niall’s shock and interrogation or the way Harry seems so cool and unbothered, like it’s no big deal. Maybe because for him it really isn’t, it’s only about the sleeping, nothing else, even though the cuddles are a little beyond the lines of friendship.

“What? I’m just asking the important stuff! Am I not allowed to tell dirty jokes to Y/N because you’ll cut my prick off?”

“You shouldn’t tell those anyway,” Louis chimes in and you nod in agreement.

Seeing that the conversation is just getting more and more awkward with each passing moment you decide to pull yourself out of it. Pushing yourself past Harry you mumble an excuse me before rushing back into your room, the three boys eyeing you curiously as you shut the door behind you, finally putting a physical barrier between you and them.

You shouldn’t be this offended, it’s not like any promises were made and you should have known better and not fall for him more than you already did. It was silly of you to think that there was anything more behind these nights spent curled up against each other, or when you woke up tangled and melted together. It was never what you hoped it to be.

Then and there you decide it’s better if you distanced yourself from him, or at least go back to how it was before. No bed sharing, no cuddling and preferably no bitter feelings.

It all goes well, because you have a pretty busy week after that day, you always have something to do and it’s not like you spent the night with Harry randomly, so it was evident that you stayed in your room so far.

But about a week later another storm was threatening to strike. The sky was gradually darkening all afternoon and now it’s only five o’clock, but it feels like eight. It’s Sunday, you’re quite exhausted since you were working until three. Niall was out somewhere with some of his coursemates and Louis went home for the weekend, won’t be back until Tuesday. It’s just you and Harry, who’s been sprawled out on the couch in only his sweatpants while you’re making yourself an early dinner so you can go to bed soon and have a good night’s sleep.

It doesn’t take long for the rain to start pouring, you’ve just gotten out of the shower when the first thunder rips through the place, making you gasp in fear. Harry’s head snaps around, looking in your way where you’re standing at the bathroom door, a questioning look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say a word. Ignoring his gaze, you just make your way into your bedroom, not even thinking about what could be on his mind. Is he thinking about whether you’ll ask to sleep with him again or he doesn’t care about it at all?

By the time you are ready to go to bed, the storm is fully raging outside, making your insides tremble every time you see a lightning or the thunder breaks the quietness in the house. You make one last trip to the kitchen, finding Harry leaned against the counter as he eats an apple.

“Going to bed early?” he asks as you pour yourself some water.

“Mhm,” you nod, avoiding looking at him.

“Everything alright?”

“Sure, I’m just tired,” you force a small smile onto your face just when a thunder rumbles outside, making you jump. Harry is watching you curiously and kind of expectantly, but you’re doing your best ignoring it. Instead, you just grab your water and head back to your room. “Good night.”

“Night, Y/N,” he calls after you, and you can feel his burning gaze on your back right until you close the door behind you.

Your plan to sleep a good ten hours goes right out the window. It doesn’t seem like the storm is about to calm anytime soon, so you’re stuck to suffer through it on your own. You’ll be damned to go to Harry’s, that would be an instant heart break and you just can’t take that right now. Long, torturous hours pass by with you lying awake in bed and part of you wants to go running over to Harry, but you force yourself to stay. It’s not happening tonight.

You fall asleep sometime after two in the morning when the thunder and lightning have stopped. Unfortunately, you need to wake up early in the morning, so when your phone’s alarm shakes you out of your sleep, you feel like absolute shit. Dragging yourself out of bed appears to be the hardest thing right now. As you make your way out, you are met with an all too familiar figure sitting at the small dining table, two cups of coffees in front of him, one obviously made for you.

Harry’s eyes snap up at you curiously, taking in your terrible looks as you head to the bathroom.

“Morning,” you mumble under your breath.

“Good morning’,” he nods in your way and though he doesn’t say anything else, you can tell he has a few thoughts about your current state.

Once you’re done with your morning business in there you join him at the table, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Rough night?” he asks, eyes examining your face.

“Kinda.”

“The storm?”

You don’t answer, just nod your head. He remains silent, but you can feel that he is dying to ask another question.

Why didn’t you come over?

You’re glad he doesn’t actually asks you, because you wouldn’t be able to give either a normal answer or say anything without starting to cry. Instead, you just grab your coffee and head back into your bedroom to get ready for the day.

That week on Friday all four of you are invited to a party. At first you want to cancel, but some of your friends from classes will be there too and it’s been ages since you’ve been to a great party, so you decide to tag along with the boys.

For the first half of the evening you go your separate way, spending time with people you don’t actually live with and see every day. One drink follows the other, though you make sure you don’t go farther than getting tipsy. You’re not in the mood to deal with a nasty hangover in the morning.

Sometime after your third or fourth drink you run into Niall and he pulls you into their little circle that also involves Harry. When he sees that you’ve joined them, his eyes light up and goes out of his way to get next to you.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” he whines, slurring his words as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you at his side. He is definitely drunk, that you’re sure of.

“It’s been just about two hours, Harry,” you roll your eyes, but can’t push your smile down. You’d be lying if you said you’re not enjoying having him so close. Your dynamic hasn’t been the same since you stopped sleeping in his bed. Not that it was such a regular activity, it only happened two times.

“But I missed you, I feel like we haven’t… haven’t talked in so long!” he huffs, knitting his eyebrows together. “Have you been avoiding me?” he asks leaning closer, so your conversation can somewhat be private.

“That’s silly. Of course I haven’t!”

“But it feels like that,” he pouts with glossy eyes. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Sure,” you nod, the bitter taste of lying filling your mouth.

“Alright, cool,” he smirks and pulling closer he kisses into your hair before he engages with the rest of the group again, keeping his arm around you as if it wasn’t a big deal.

For the rest of the evening you simply don’t leave his side and not because he doesn’t let you, but because you don’t want to. Harry is not the only one missing the other, this week you’ve noticed that even though you’ve been keeping yourself busy, your thoughts always took you back to one particular, curly haired boy. Despite everything that’s been going on, he is your friend first and foremost who you love spending time with and talking about anything and everything.

Both of you are intoxicated, Harry a bit more than you, but you’re having a blast playing beerpong or ruining Niall’s chances with girls he is trying to pick up. You’re genuinely having an amazing time and it wouldn’t be the same without Harry.

Arriving back home your little group splits, everyone using the bathroom after the other and you’re the last one in line, because you always take the longest. By the time you’re finished, Louis and Niall are both locked up in their rooms, but Harry’s door is still open, some dim lighting illuminating the hallway. As you approach it, you find him throwing his dirty clothes into the hamper, but his head perks up when he sees you.

“Good night, H,” you sigh, quite tired and in need of a good sleep, but before you could head into your own bedroom, Harry grabs your wrist and pulls you into his. “What is it?”

“Sleep here,” he simply prompts, already leading you to the bed.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“I-I… I don’t--” you stutter, feeling flustered from his offer.

“Come on, you can’t say no,” he tells you, already crawling under his covers and then he holds them up as the invitation.

Taking a deep breath you follow him and make yourself comfortable in your almost usual spot. Harry’s arm falls over your waist in an instant, spooning you from behind as he hums pleased. But a few moments later he lifts his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“You know you can say no, right? I was just joking.” Looking back at him you give him a small smile. Even drunk he makes sure you aren’t doing anything you don’t want to, but how could you not want it? You’ve been aching to sleep next to him all week, especially after the last storm when you suffered alone in your room.

“I know, Harry.”

“Alright, okay,” he nods, his head dropping back to the pillow. “I missed this,” he mumbles with a sigh.

“Yeah?”

“Mm, sleeping alone sucks,” he hums and in a split second, your heart breaks.

Harry didn’t want to sleep with you, he just wanted to sleep with someone and you were the one there. It has nothing to do with you.

You want to blame him, you want it to be his fault that your chest is now aching, knowing that it truly doesn’t mean the same thing to him it does to you, but you know you can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, so once again, you’re left with a sinking heart wrapped up into Harry’s embrace that suddenly feels burning.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

When the morning comes Harry is still sleeping deep beside you, an arm thrown over your waist, puffing warm air against the side of your head with every breath he exhales. Seeing him so peaceful warms your heart, but then you realize everything that happened last night, how he only used you because you were available and not because he wanted you.

You don’t want to wait for him to wake up and face him, your emotions would surely bring the best out of you. So carefully, you unwrap yourself from his hold and sneak out of his room, back into yours.

There’s no way you can face Harry right now, so before he could wake up you leave, planning on spending the day in the library, working on your assignments, hoping the school work will take your mind off of how badly you’ve been friendzoned.

Sometime after eleven Harry actually texts you asking where you went and you just tell him you have a shitload of school stuff to deal with. He asks if he can join you, but you tell him you’re with a group of your classmates, even though you’re sitting in an almost entirely empty library. He luckily doesn’t push it and leaves you to be. Hopefully he’ll be fine when you take another step away from him for a while to get your head straight and sort your emotions out.

You get home quite late, but not late enough, apparently. Because walking into the house you find the boys clearly getting ready to watch a movie.

“Just in time!” Niall beams. “Join us, Princess!” he laughs, grabbing himself a cola from the fridge.

“Oh, no, I have some things to work on--”

“Come on, you’ve been in the library all day, you can have a break!” Louis tells you and you know you won’t be left alone, they are just so persistent.

So you join them in your usual spot, which is of course next to Harry, though you’re trying to avoid his gaze that hasn’t left you since you arrived and by now you’re certain he knows you’re avoiding him. There’s a reason why he asked you last night if you’ve been doing it lately, he is not stupid, but this is not the time to deal with it.

With your inner crisis bubbling inside you, you completely forget to ask what you’re watching. A few minutes into the movie it becomes quite clear however.

“Is this a fucking horror movie again?” you ask, snapping at Niall, who just starts laughing.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Harry will gladly let you sleep in his bed tonight,” he teases, making your whole face heat up at his comment. Harry slaps his chest before he turns to you with concern filled eyes, but you pretend like you see nothing, turning back to the screen with your jaw clenched.

You’re fucked.

The movie is a fucking shitshow and leaves you traumatized. When it’s over, you think about why didn’t you just stand up and go into your room when you realized it’s another horror. For a change, this one was filled with demons and monsters that hide in the shadows, just what you need before going to bed. In the night. In a totally dark room.

Exiting the bathroom you’re already planning on watching something lighthearted and cheerful in your room, hoping that would make you forget the movie you just saw and give you the chance to actually sleep.

Walking past Harry’s room you see that it’s still open and you catch him expectantly looking at you when you appear in the doorway as you walk down the hallway, your eyes meeting for just a split second before you disappear from his sight and shut your bedroom door without a word behind you.

No matter how many random videos you watch on YouTube, some scenes from the movie are just imprinted into your mind and they have you trembling in fear. Every shadow looks like a demon or ghost, hiding in your room, ready to haunt and kill you and you’re on the verge of actually crying. It might not be only because of the movie, more like everything else that’s been bottled up inside you, added to the fear the movie has brought to you.

Shutting your eyes closed you try to take deep breaths and for a bit it actually seems to help, but that is until you hear the door opening. It gives you an instant heart attack and you can’t keep your tears back anymore.

A whimper leaves your mouth as the door opens and you can only see a shadow entering the room, totally not recognizing Harry in the dark.

“Y/N, hey, it’s just me! It’s okay!” he quickly clears, seeing how shaken up you are. He rushes over to the bed, one hand cupping your cheek, the other one finding your hand and before you could think, you grip it hard.

“You scared the living hell out of me!” you cry out, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on you.”

Silence sets between the two of you that’s only momentarily broken by your shaky breaths as you try to calm yourself down.

“Why didn’t you come to mine after the movie if you were so scared?” he then asks, surprising you with how straightforward he is.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you mumble, blinking the remaining of the tears away as Harry stares down at you intently.

“Why would you think you’d bother me? I like having you there.”

“But it’s… Doesn’t matter,” you sigh in defeat, but it just concerns him even more.

“No, tell me!”

“Harry, just go back to your room. I’ll be fine.”

“You definitely won’t and I’m not leaving until you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he protests firmly and you lose your patience to keep lying to him.

“You just wanted someone to sleep with yesterday, okay? You didn’t need me. And… I don’t want to depend on you more than I should.”

Harry stares back at you with a blank expression and you feel like this is going to be the end of your friendship. You have to come clean about your feelings and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t feel the same way. But then he speaks up and the tables turn faster than ever.

“Y/N, I wanted you to sleep with me last night. Not just anyone. You.”

“What?”

“I really thought we have been on the same page, but apparently, we’re not even in the same book,” he sighs, confusing you even more. “Wasn’t it suspicious how things have been between us lately? The way we slept, the mornings, did you think these are normal things to do?”

“I-I thought that… it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Well it did,” he replies and you breath hitches in your throat. “I was trying to take it slow, see how you’d react to everything and I thought you were feeling the same way. But then last time you didn’t come to my room when there was a storm and I thought that was your way of telling me that you want to pause whatever’s been going on.”

You’re just blinking in shock, listening to his words. This is nothing you expected.

“But then you seemed like you opened back up last night and you agreed to sleep with me, thought we were back on track, but then you were nowhere to be found in the morning, avoided me all day and now you would have rather spent the night crying here alone than to come over to me. What did I do? Just tell me, because quite frankly, I have no idea what we are doing anymore, Y/N,” he sighs, clearly tired of this insane game you’ve been playing without even knowing.

“So… you did all of this, because… you…”

“Because I like you, Y/N. But there’s a possibility it’s already way more than just a strong liking,” he admits with a soft chuckle that melts you in an instant.

“Oh god, I could cry again, but not out of fear this time,” you tell him, making him laugh as you scoot closer to him on the mattress. “I feel the same way, Harry,” you softly tell him, your hands finding the base of his neck while his hands have wandered to your waist so now he is pulling you towards him until he ends up in his lap. His face is now so close, and even in the dark, you can see the cheesy smile on his pink lips.

“You’re not saying this just to keep me here because you’re scared to be alone, right?” he asks, clearly joking, earning a wholehearted laugh from you.

“No, but I guess that would be a major benefit of it.”

“I’ll protect you from all the demons and killers under one condition,” he smirks, his face already inching closer, his nose is already touching yours.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“I get to kiss you.”

“Deal.”

You barely say this one little word, his lips are already on yours, kissing you in a way that almost knocks all the air out of your lungs. You press yourself up against him, his arms curling around you, holding you tight as if he is already protecting you from everything that scares you, though you can’t really think about the stupid horror movies now that you’re kissing Harry.

He pulls you down with himself making you lie on your back as he holds himself up above you, his lips parting from your just enough so he can look into your eyes.

“How about I kiss you every time you feel scared?” he prompts, pecking your lips gently as you pull your legs up and his hips settle between your thighs, while your hands dance down his back.

“Alright, I’m in,” you smirk at him and for a moment he just stares back at you, smiling wide, in complete awe that it’s finally happening. Then he cocks his head to the side before speaking up.

“Are you still scared?”

“Very,” you nod. “I’m shaking.”

“Good,” he grins before his lips press onto yours again.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[ecliptsukki]

a turned spirit ❧ bakugou katsuki / ground zero

navigation | music

➣ genre: angst

➣ warnings: villian!baku, unrequited love

➣ request: bakugou Is fighting the reader and the reader Kiss him to distract him to escape ( Sidenote have you ever watch Jennifers body

➣ a/n: hi, anon! unfortunately, i’ve never watched jennifer’s body but i have seen a few scenes before. if your request is correlated to the movie, i’m so sorry if the fic doesn’t turn out the way you want :((( also! since bakubro’s birthday is today (in the us), i decided to write a fic for him and so i saw this request! i tried to post it yesterday, but i got occupied with homework :/// if the center of the fic sounds like word spew, it probably is because it spaced out in the middle of writing it lmao. i promise i will work on the other requests waiting in my inbox, i just need time. thank you and enjoy!!!

Sirens were going off throughout the city; dark clouds of smoke wafted in the air. Some citizens were being calmly evacuated to a safer location, whereas others were watching the pro heroes fight the villain. 

A loud boom echoed through the streets of the city, attracting everyone’s attention. A flash of orange flames lit up the sky, followed by a hoarse shout. 

You would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, be it in your sleep or in a loud, crowded room. 

Oh how you wished you had Deku with you as of now.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou!” You and your classmates jumped out of their hiding spots, surprising the hot-headed peer.

He gave the group of you an unimpressed stare, hands shoved in the pockets of his low-waisted pants. The blonde gave the decorated room a once over before grunting a quiet thanks of appreciation.

“No need to be such a tsundere, Baku-bro,” Kaminari chirped, nudging Bakugou with his shoulder.

“Fuck off, Pikachu,” the black-clothing-clad boy grumbled.

“Cheer up, Bakugou! It’s your birthday, and everyone here set this up for you!” Kirishima placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Everyone else in the class had began to roam the snack table or dance with each other to Jirou’s live music. You, on the other hand, held a neatly wrapped gift in your arms, collecting the courage to approach and give Bakugou the gift yourself.

Watching as the blonde sat himself onto the plush cushions of the common room’s couch, your feet carried you over to him, forcing you into one reality.

“What do you want?” His gruff voice spoke, staring at your frozen figure.

Lips trembling, you decided your actions would speak louder than your words, at the moment. Your arm stuck out, handing the gift to Bakugou. He looked at you, then the gift, gently grabbing the box away from you.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Internally panicking, you simply nod and hum, eyes focused on your feet. You scurry away as soon as you could, attempting to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks.

Unbeknownst to you, Bakugou was watching your frantic figure gather some water to cool yourself down. 

Cute, he thought, looking down at the custom-made, Ground Zero wrapping paper you used for his gift.

The sound of explosions neared you and the other pro heroes. Some heroes were too injured to fight or were helping the police escort the citizens away faster. Coincidentally, you were the only one who could fight. Luckily, unlike the other heroes, you already had experience fighting the inevitable explosion man.

“Go! Take them as far from here as possible. I’ll try to hold him back,” you shouted at the escapees and your fellow heroes.

You ran forward, closing in on the sound of explosions. You caught a glimpse of the smoke and orange flames and moved to get in closer range of them.

Once you could see the muscular man shooting through the sky, you activated your quirk, attracting his attention to you.

“Well if it isn’t my least favorite UA girl,” his voice echoed down the street.

“Bakugou,” you spoke in a low tone.

“How’s it going, L/N? I see you’re one of the top pro heroes now,” he smirks, little sparks lighting from his palms.

“You could’ve been one too,” you responded, ignoring his question.

“Yeah, I could’ve, but why tie myself down to boring rules?” 

The two of you were walking in circles, neither one willing to turn their backs.

“What about your dream of being stronger and better than All Might?” You brought up his childhood dream, hoping to draw out more time.

“Can’t you see? I am better than All Might. My power is unlimited,” he cackled.

You gulped, frowning at the man ahead of you. His appearance didn’t change much in comparison to when he was a high schooler. Now, he was the shell of someone you had fallen for once.

Scoffing, he spoke, “As much as I’d like to let you stall more time, I’ve got some people to show my power to.”

Seeing as he was ready to boost himself away, you ran towards him, grabbing his arm and trying to pin him to the floor. You wrapped your legs around his waist, legs coming down from behind him, knocking his knees down. Since he was on his knees, you swung yourself around him and pushed him onto his chest, cheek squashed against the floor. You pulled both his arms back, trying to pry his grenade gauntlet off of him.

With you straddling his back, you could feel him chuckle from underneath you, “You really think you can take those off? They were designed so that only I could take them off on my own accord.”

You ignored him, straining to pull of the big and heavy items. It was like taking them off would release him from some imaginary spell you thought up in your mind, like it would liberate your chained heart and he would come back.

Bakugou could feel your efforts beginning to weaken and took the opportunity to his advantage. With a slight roll of his shoulder, he managed to use the gauntlet’s weight to escape your grasp.

With you stuck in a heartbroken haze, you were too late to realize the villain overpowering you until you were the one under him. You stared into his scintillating ruby eyes, searching for even a fraction of the classmate you had mourned over losing. Tears pricked your own E/C eyes, spilling down your flushed cheeks.

For a moment, the blonde’s aggressive façade had faltered, his eyes quivering at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. It was only when he heard the sound of a building collapsing on its weak infrastructure did he warn you once more.

“I suggest you get out of here before I have to hurt you,” he growled lowly, dismissing the bitter taste the words had left in his mouth.

Your mind was telling your body to move, to get up and fight, but your heart was telling you to stay, forcing you to gaze at his complexion much too long.

“No,” you whimpered, unconsciously. Your head shook, hand grabbing onto one of the man’s large wrist that was pinning you down. “Come back. I can- We can help you.” 

You were at your wits end, fighting against a once potential number one pro hero and an unrequited love. 

He harshly ripped himself out of your grasp, spitting out, “I don’t need your help.”

That was enough for you to accept the reality of the situation. Bakugou Katsuki was long gone; Ground Zero was no longer a hero. You must protect this beloved city and its people.

Glancing at the big city hall clock, you realize you’d stalled just about the perfect amount of time for the citizens to escape, meaning all you needed to do was hold Ground Zero back a little longer to ensure he wouldn’t locate the safe house.

Running full speed at the man ahead of you, you dropped to your side, sliding between his legs and flipping up to kick him to the floor. You could hear him elicit a dark chuckle before turning over and firing his blast at you. Fortunately, you were able to hop off of him and put some distance between the two of you.

You knew both close combat and long-range combat wouldn’t work on him. He was fully equipped when it came to his quirk. You, on the other hand, preferred to depend on your combat skills, and unlike Deku, your quirk didn’t increase the amount of force or strength in your attacks.

While you were busy thinking up a plan of escape, you felt your phone vibrate in its compartment in your bodysuit. Bakugou must’ve noticed your relaxed disposition because he began to charge at you, attacking you on all sides, leaving you trapped dodging his explosions.

“I guess some measly pro hero could be a good reward to bring back in replace of their lives,” he shouted, hands bombarding your space.

Your state of mind was panicked. You didn’t know how you were going to beat him, let alone escape. Only one idea popped in your head at that moment, and oh, how you despised it. Your thoughts screamed: “It’s not going to work!” “That only works in cliches!” “Oh my god, are you stupid?” Nevertheless, you had no other plans, no other ideas.

Finding a convenient opening, you leaned in smashing your lips against his, causing him to immediately freeze in his spot. The pink, cracked lips pressed against yours felt like it was out of a fantasy. No, his lips weren’t perfect and soft like a prince in shining armor’s, but his were with meaning: a tragic story made of his life that led to that exact moment.

Pulling away, you spared him one last glance before running out of his sight. He didn’t chase after you. He couldn’t because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t want to leave your side ever again, but he didn’t want the tied down life of a “savior” or a “hero.” Besides, there’s no way he would be accepted as a hero and let roam freely after all the chaos and havoc he’d caused.

Once a villain, always a villain... at least that was what society believed.

The two of you had different destinies with the lines of dark and light. Alas, there was no in between for you to share and no way to turn back the tables called time.

[zeldan7]

Forever (Solomon x GN! Reader)

So I, er, I decided to write a nice little piece of angst based on Solomon's new UR+ animation o.O

Pairing: Solomon x GN! Reader

Warnings: Death, Blood, Mental Anguish

Word Count: 1668

During your short time in the Devildom you’d managed to become really close with your fellow students. Especially Solomon. In fact, you spent most of your time with him, much to the demon brothers’ dismay. You’d actually developed a bit of a crush on the sorcerer, not that you’d ever tell him.

One Wednesday, after your classes, Solomon invited you to Purgatory Hall for a movie night with him, Simeon, and Luke. After sending a quick text to the demon brothers chat to let them know, you followed Solomon back. You couldn’t help but notice how his hand kept brushing against yours. You thought it was most likely an accident at first, but after the eighth time you grew suspicious. Making a split-second decision, you gently intertwined your fingers with his. Nothing changed in his calm demeanour, but he now had an adorable smile plastered on his face as he gripped your hand tighter.

You remained that way all the way back to Purgatory Hall, only separating to let Solomon open the door. As soon as it shut behind you, he took up your hand again, grinning at you. You gazed up into his agate eyes, feeling a fluttering in your chest. Judging by Solomon’s facial expression, he felt it, too.

“Y/N…”

“Oh, Solomon, you’re back!” Simeon cried, suddenly appearing in the doorway. “Hello, Y/N!”

Surprisingly, Solomon kept your hand in his as he turned to face the angel. “Hey, Simeon. Y/N’s here for a movie night with us.”

Simeon looked between the two of you, then down at your clasped hands. “Unfortunately, Luke and I are quite busy tonight, so we’ll be unable to attend.”

The corner of Solomon’s mouth twitched up in a smirk. “That’s a shame, we’ll have to have another some time.”

Simeon simply shot him a knowing smile before leaving the two of you alone once more.

“Shall we?” Solomon asked, leading the way to his room.

He’d obviously been expecting you to accept his invitation, since his room was already prepared for a movie night. A small string of fairy lights hung over the headboard, and his bed was entirely covered in pillows and cushions of varying shapes and sizes. For the first time since you’d met him, Solomon looked sheepish.

“I… I was hoping you’d say yes.”

In response, you launched yourself on to the bed, burying yourself in the cushions. Solomon chuckled, climbing in next to you.

You stayed up until the early hours of the morning watching movies and chatting until you felt your eyes growing heavy. Without thinking, you placed your head on Solomon’s shoulder. You just had time to feel his arm wrap around you and his lips press against your head before you fell asleep, and he wasn’t far behind you.

It had been a week since your night with Solomon, and by now everyone knew you were a couple. It was rare for you to return to the House of Lamentation without your lover, but you’d promised the brothers you’d spend some time with just them. After an evening filled with card games and fun, you retired to your room. Or that was your intention, at least. As you ascended the stairs you heard a voice calling out for help. Quickly, you sprinted upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

You were surprised to find a heavy-looking door sealing off an attic room.

“Please – you have to help me get out!” The black and white-haired man stared at you; eyes full of desperation.

“Of course!” You cried, placing your hands on the door, searching for a handle. Before you could even begin, there was a blinding light. When you opened your eyes, the door was gone, and you were inside the room with the man.

“Thank you so much – uh, I didn’t catch your name?” He was clearly excited to be free, and you wondered how long he’d been stuck there.

You gave him a friendly smile. “I’m Y/N, the human exchange student!”

His face crinkled up in disgust before he lunged at you, lifting you up by the throat and cutting off your air.

“Humans killed my sister.” He growled.

You tried to fight him off, but he was far too strong. The last thing you saw was his sick, twisted grin before everything went black.

“Solomon?”

“Yes?” It was strange for one of the demon brothers to phone him. Stranger still for it to be Lucifer, sounding panicked no less.

“There’s been… an incident.”

“Lucifer, it’s not like you to struggle with words, is everyone alright?”

“No, I-“ Lucifer sighed. “Solomon, I need you at the House of Lamentation. Now.”

“Of course, I was hoping to drop by to see Y/N, anyway.”

Lucifer made a strangled sound before the line went dead.

“Belphegor…” Solomon growled, throwing himself at the demon only to be stopped by Lucifer. The brothers were shocked; Solomon was always so calm, they’d never seen him lose it. Especially not like this. Suddenly, the sorcerer stills, and Lucifer sees fit to set him free. Fists balled at his sides, Solomon took a deep breath, glaring daggers at the Avatar of Sloth. The ground started shaking, and the brothers all shared a look of alarm. Pictures began to fly off the walls as Solomon closed his eyes, clenching his fists hard enough to draw blood. The whole house was groaning and shuddering, and yet it was taking no damage. That was, until Solomon’s eyes snapped open, focussing on the demon before him. Cracks appeared in the floor around his feet, and panicked flashed across his face.

“Solomon!” Asmo shouted, but he wasn’t listening. Rage flowed through him, enough even to rival Satan on one of his bad days. Just as the floor looked like it would swallow Belphegor whole, something solid slammed into Solomon, knocking him to the floor and breaking his concentration.

“Beelzebub, what do you think you’re doing?!” Solomon yelled, the house’s shaking coming to an abrupt halt.

“He’s my brother.” Beel said, solemnly.

“He killed Y/N!” Solomon’s anger was beginning to subside, replaced by a sorrow so intense his chest ached. He’d never experienced anything quite like this in all his years.

“Beel,” Lucifer finally spoke. “Get Belphie out of here.”

Solomon knelt next to you, bent over and crying. Hands sprawled out over you, he tried spell after spell hoping one might bring you back. Over and over, he repeated different incantations until he finally collapsed from exhaustion. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see a pair of blue eyes full of concern.

“They’re gone, ya know. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and it ain’t fair, but they wouldn’t want ya torturin’ yourself like this.”

Mammon’s words touched the sorcerer, and he forced a small smile in response, accepting his hug.

It was too much for Solomon to handle. He’d faced loss before, of course (you didn’t get to be thousands of years old without losing loved ones) but none had hurt like this. Everyone had finally left after the ceremony, and it was just you and him now. The smell of freshly dug soil assaulted his nostrils, and it took all his strength to not retch. Rain pelted his back, drenching his clothes, but he didn’t care. What he did care about was you. You couldn’t be gone, it didn’t make sense. What if you were still alive? What if you’d been buried while still breathing?! Vain hope won out over rationality. He started digging through the mud with nothing but his bare hands. The rain made it clumpy, but he was determined. He dug and dug until his fingers were bleeding, and yet he had barely made any progress. Shouting up at the Heavens, he collapsed into the small indent he had made. He knew it was too late. He knew you were gone.

One Year Later

“Hey, Y/N,” Solomon kneeled next to your grave, clutching on to a small bouquet of flowers. “I saw these today, and I thought of you. I know irises are – were… your favourite. I never got to bring you any when you were still here, so…”

He carefully arranged the flowers in the centre of your headstone as tears started to spill over his eyelids.

“I hope wherever you are is as charming as your smile.” He had no idea where you were; he’d spent the last year searching both the Devildom and the Celestial Realm with no luck.

“Belphegor claims he’s sorry, but… I’ve been unable to tolerate his presence for more than a few moments. I’m sorry, too, Y/N. I should have been there. Perhaps you’d – you’d still be here…” He trailed off as a sudden sob choked him. Solomon didn’t cry often, and yet he’d shed more tears in the last year than he had in his whole life. You’d left a huge hole, and you’d taken a part of him with you when you left.

“Y/N, I’d like to think I’ll see you again, but I have my doubts.”

He’d been increasingly reckless since you’d passed, attempting untested magic, wandering the Devildom alone at night, even heading into a Reaper’s Cave. He’d always been fond of his immortality, but he was finally seeing it for what it was: a curse.

“Maybe I’ll find you one day… my love. I regret that I never got the chance to tell you how I feel; it’s something I’ll regret for as long as I live.”

Solomon took a deep breath, beginning to tremble.

“I love you, Y/N. I always will – that won’t ever change, no matter how much time may pass. Each day without you feels unbearable. I’d give anything to see your smile just one more time. I miss you more and more with each day that goes by. I’m so sorry I couldn’t – I couldn’t save you…”

He turned his gaze skyward, just in time to feel raindrops mix with his salty tears.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Forever.”

[moonstruckbucky]

Say Love [one shot]

Summary: You and Bucky are at a stand-still in your relationship, all because neither of you can say three little words.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Idiots in love, a smidge of angst, the rest is fluff.

Notes: So this is a fun fic, but it’s also a very real fic. I know I’ve had that should-I-shouldn’t-I when it comes to saying the L word in a relationship, so this is for anyone that’s had that struggle. Enjoy & let me know what you think! x

P.S. - it’s also a birthday present to @captain-kelli aka MY WIFE 💕

It’s palpable, the tension. A smothering, suffocating heavy cloud stretching between the two of you, and you almost wonder how you got here, to this hurdle in your relationship.

It builds like an avalanche - a tiny, harmless snowball that’s picked up speed as it rolls, rolls, rolls, until it’s so big you can’t be in the same room as him without feeling like you’re walking on eggshells.

Even now, on a night meant for the two of you, you feel distanced from him - despite sitting beside each other on the couch. You’re pressed up against his side, It’s a Wonderful Life playing on the screen - a favorite of Bucky’s. It’s supposed to be a bonding time for you, but you’ve never felt so far away from him.

His arm is around you, but it’s stiff, and where his fingers would normally dance across your skin, raise goosebumps in their wake, now they’re still, limp. Careless.

And despite the movie being a favorite, he looks utterly bored when you peek up at him from under your lashes. Eyes vacant, fingers of his vibranium hand holding up his head, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

You wonder if he feels it too, this mountain that’s suddenly erected between you.

You’ve been dating eight months - is he bored with you already? Disinterested? “Just not feeling it anymore”? Is he too afraid of hurting you, and it’s why he hasn’t said anything yet? Is he waiting for you to get fed up and leave?

Because you won’t, you can’t. Despite this emotional gap between you, you feel a connection to him you haven’t felt before. He’s level-headed where you can be chaotic - being an Avenger is probably to thank for that - and he’s soft spoken despite his large, often gruff exterior.

He’s a perfect counterbalance to who you are - how could you not fall in love with him almost as soon as you met him?

Part of you believes that if Bucky didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t. He’s sure of himself, thanks to the hard work he’s done for himself since being officially recruited as an Avenger. He’d told you a little of how difficult it had been - in the 30s and 40s, people didn’t openly talk about their struggles, least of all with a psychologist; they just lived with them. 

It only made you fall for him even harder, for the sheer strength he has and the determination to come to grips with what’s happened to him.

But it seems those feelings are one-sided, and the revelation sits like lead in your stomach. With pressure building behind your eyes, you fake a yawn.

“I think I should go,” you mutter, thankful that your voice doesn’t crack. Bucky turns his eyes to you, wide and - is that disappointment?

“Oh, yeah, okay. I’ll call you a cab?”

You stand up with a shake of your head. “Not necessary, I’ll get an Uber on my way down.”

He walks you to the elevator, hands in his pockets and feeling awkward. The kiss you share is quick, chaste, and stiff, much like the rest of your evening tonight. When you turn your back to him to enter the elevator, your chin wobbles.

Bucky stands in the hallway for a while after you’ve gone, his thoughts running away from him. He can’t be the only one between you who felt that distance, could he?

Have you changed your mind about him? Realized the former Winter Soldier isn’t who you want to give your heart to? Perhaps all the atrocities he’s committed are truly too much for you to handle.

He couldn’t blame you if they were and yet... You own his entire being, body and soul. If you were to leave him, a large part of him would go with you, a piece he isn’t sure he’d be able to get back. 

He knows you noticed his demeanor tonight, the way he hid behind himself in an effort of self-preservation. He nearly made himself bleed from biting his tongue so hard to keep three words he didn’t think he’d ever say from slipping out. He didn’t want to scare you, to make you run off,

but it seems he managed to do that anyways.

Bucky leans forward, bonks his head on the elevator once, twice, three times before a door opening behind him makes him pause.

“Are you done brooding yet?”

Bucky’s shoulders drop, in no mood for Sam’s ribbing. The man teases out of love and respect - it’s just how their relationship is - but tonight, he can’t bring himself to return the dig. He turns away from the elevator, shoulders up to his ears and hands still in his pockets.

Sam’s face changes when he takes in Bucky’s posture, and he sighs, leaning up against the frame of his door.

“What’s up, Tin Man?” he prods gently. 

Bucky’s eyes find a place just over Sam’s shoulder, torn between opening up to Sam about the turn his relationship has taken and remaining silent, attempt to sort through it himself.

A helpless look at Sam, and the dark-skinned man opens the door wider, turning to the side to allow Bucky entrance.

“Talk to me, man. You look like someone kicked your dog.”

Sam offers Bucky a seat on his couch, an expensive, black leather that feels as cushy as a cloud. The man leans back, crosses his arms over his chest. The black metal of his arm catches the low lighting in Sam’s room, turns the gold bronze.

“I think she’s going to break up with me,” he starts, and before he knows it he’s spilling all of his insecurities to Sam. The other man listens patiently, cocking his head curiously at some parts and pursing his lips for others.

Bucky half-expects the man to jab at him - joke about how she finally realized what a mess he is - but to his surprise (and relief; he has enough self-hatred for both of them), Sam nods sagely and looks almost empathetic. It would throw Bucky for a loop, if he and Sam haven’t come to some middle ground.

Steve would be so proud of them.

“Then she’s not worth it, Buck,” comes Sam’s response almost immediately after Bucky’s finished. The brunet’s eyes go wide. “If she can’t handle you as you are, if that’s too much for her, then it isn’t worth it. I like her, man, but I like you a lot better, and you deserve somebody who’s going to take your baggage, embrace it, accept it, and help make you better for it. And you shouldn’t have to settle for anything less.”

Bucky wants to argue, say that you are absolutely worth it, but the words get stuck in his throat. He knows Sam is right, acknowledges that yes, he has more baggage than most, but also that he does deserve someone who’ll accept him regardless of it.

But haven’t you? Eight months in and Bucky had been sure you’d accepted him for who he had been, not just who he is now. But perhaps you’d changed your mind. Perhaps you’d thought long and hard over it and realized a broken soldier wasn’t who you wanted at all.

He couldn’t blame you, but it still hurts to think about.

“I think you need to talk to her,” Sam continues, watching the emotions play out over Bucky’s face - shock, sadness, realization, and finally, utter heartbreak. Sam feels no pleasure whatsoever in telling Bucky this, but he’s never one to beat around the bush. His years as a VA counselor wouldn’t let him.

“Talk to her, and find out where her head’s at. It’s the only way you’re going to know.”

You don’t talk to Bucky for two weeks. After leaving the Avengers compound, you thought it best to distance yourself, prepare your heart for the eventuality that Bucky would break it off. But it’s even worse that he doesn’t contact you at all, and you begin to resent it.

Bitterness ekes into everything you say and do, your very being so clouded by resentment you’re not even sure who you are anymore. You don’t recognize yourself or the cynicism your attitude seems to have adopted. 

You hate it.

In a whirlwind of anger, resentment, and self-loathing, you drive to the compound. Flash the card Bucky had given you for access whenever he didn’t come pick you up himself. The gate rolls open, and your heart pounds with the notion that this might be the last time you'll ever see it.

You take the elevator up to Bucky’s floor, hands twisting together as you sort through every thought you’ve had in the past two weeks. Doing so reignites your anger, puts a scowl on your face that could curdle milk.

Bucky’s surprised to see you - even more so to see that look on your face - when he opens his door after you’ve slammed your fist against it.

“What the fuck is going on, Bucky?” you demand, and he winces, steps aside and waves you in so that the two of you don’t draw attention.

His shoulders hunch, hands sliding into his pockets - a clear sign that he’s feeling out of his element and is trying to make himself very, very small. In the space of his bedroom, your anger cools a little, fond memories of time spent in the space taking you over.

“Are we over?” you ask, outright, and Bucky’s head snaps up in alarm. “I mean, did I miss any hints you might’ve been dropping? Am I just making a fool of myself by being here, trying to fix this?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, rendered speechless and dumb by your questioning. It isn’t what he’d been expecting, and it’s caught him off guard.

“I- what?” He shakes his head as your eyes turn sad and manages to connect his brain to his mouth. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

Eyes going steely, you straighten your shoulders. “Well, considering you acted like you’d rather have been anywhere else but with me the last time we saw each other, paired with the fact I haven’t heard from you in two weeks? What am I supposed to think?”

He laughs shortly, incredulous, until your eyes flare up in anger again, and he reins it in, but only just. He just can’t believe what he’s hearing from you, how all this time he thought you were bored of him - or scared. Either way, the relief warming his chest keeps the smile on his face.

Your posture is rigid and you move to take a step back as he closes the distance, but his arms wrap around you and tug you into his chest. The kiss he lays on you is firm but warm, an outpouring of emotion that slowly destroys the wall you’ve erected just to face him.

His hands are warm, even the metal appendage, where he grasps your face to keep you close to him. He sighs when your arms wrap around his waist, hands gliding up to his shoulders to grasp his shirt, and he swallows the little whimper you let loose. 

Until he tastes the salt on your lips and he pulls away.

Your eyes are glassy, tears leaking from the corners to slide glistening tracks down your cheeks. His thumbs brush them away as he smiles softly.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” he coos. He kisses you again before looking you in the eye. He wants to make sure you know he means every word. “I’m sorry I was a little emotionally constipated. I- I felt it, too, that weird air the last time you were here, and I thought you - I thought you had changed your mind about me, about us, and that you were just too shy to say anything. So I gave you your space even though it nearly killed me to do it. I thought it was what you wanted, but clearly I was wrong.”

Bottom lip trembling, you sniffle and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “No, I... I could have called. I know you felt a little off that night, too. I was just. I didn’t know how much I could push, if you even wanted that conversation at all. I guess I just thought it was your way of saying you were done with me.”

He chuckles, deep and reverberating, and he shakes his head. “Never gonna happen. I love you too much.”

He enjoys the change on your face - the surprise and then the utter elation - and he grins like the cat that ate the canary.

“You what?”

Bucky isn’t sure why he’d been so scared to say it before, not when you’re looking at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

“I love you,” he repeats, punctuating it with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “And I should’ve said it sooner, especially if you were having doubts.”

He’s entranced by the way you chew your lip thoughtfully, shrug a shoulder shyly. “I could’ve said it, too. I love you, Bucky.”

The smile that breaks upon his face is blinding, radiant. This man was born to smile like this all the time. And he’s mine, you think. He’s all mine.

You giggle, tuck your face into his neck as you shake your head. Still grinning, he holds you tight, chuckles in kind when you say, “We’re idiots.”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “But idiots in love.”

[the-fandom-fuckup]

Kirikacchako? Please

I'm not sure if this is referencing a specific prompt from like.. An older post or not, but I've been on a bit of an au kick lately so I'm gonna use this as a plug for some of the aus/ideas I've had, so I hope that's alright ^-^

(I'd offer a doodle for your troubles but... I don't have any to offer rn gjskfksjfkak)

One of the most recent ideas I've had is Kirichako sirens x hoh/ace pirate Baku, in which Kirichako are a mated pair of sirens that travel the seas together to prey on unsuspecting sailors and Baku is a pirate that spends a bit too much time around the cannons n explosives, resulting in hearing loss over time

Upon meeting Baku for the first time Kiri n Ochako are both fascninated and peeved. Fascinated bc no one's ever looked them in the eyes during their song and resisted them like he has, and peeved bc immediately after staring at them Baku tried killing them with explosives

Like sure, they've met people on the seas that have been resistent to either their song or bodies before, but never someone who was unaffected by both. They didn't know whether to be more interested or insulted honestly

((They go with interested, but tell themselves they're insulted bc it's easier to admit))

N honestly I don't have much here, but they end up following Baku's ship around bc it has some good benefits (provides them with protection from bigger sea creatures, food from all the ships they destroy/people they fuck up), and also they just like bothering Baku until they get a reaction from him

They don't sing to him anymore, but they chitter at him n throw pretty sea trinkets up against the ship/into open cannon flaps for him to find later

The last thing I have for this idea is the courting process probably starts bc Baku tripped on the sea trinkets one too many times while carrying out his duties n gets pissed, so he goes up to the main deck to get their attention before chucking some sparkly, garbage thing back at them hoping to distract them enough to get them to fuck off. But the sirens look at their new gift and go wait... Returned gift?? A courting gift?? Which goes to kickstarts a whole new wave of bullshit lmao, rip Baku's sanity

Another idea I wanna shoehorn these guys into is my EnjiRei/TodoDeku mafia bodyguard au, but I'm not too sure on how to go about it tbh like

One one hand, I could have Kiri in with the Todorokis n Ochako in with All Might's group, and have Baku be the unsuspecting civilian just trying to live his life but has attracted the attention of both gang members, who then treat it as a rivalry of who gets Baku first but end up seeing each other as more than just rival groups when the gangs actually start working together n they get paired to run jobs, and has everyone spiralling into a mess of feelings and highjinks before leveling out to smth manageable

On another hand I could have a similar idea with Kacchako as the rivaling gang members and Kiri as the unsuspecting civilian, or maybe even some other underground member like an underground ring fighter or a runner or whatever, who gets scouted by the groups bc his reputation in the ring gets him a gig as some extra muscle or smth for an outside job

And then on the last hand I could have pre-established Kiribaku as the gang members (in the same gang this time) and Ochako as the civilian making bad deals with shady people for extra cash to try and help her family out of their shitty finacial situation, taking jobs she has no business taking (probably from the rising group that's fucking up everything for everyone else tbh) n catching the boys' attention bc "what's a pretty little thing like you doing in the sleazy part of town? Don'tcha know shit gets dangerous around here?" And they're endeared by her spunk n unwillingness to crumble under pressure so they take her under their wing to show her the ropes but also gives them their kicks bc they get off on corrupting her innocent n naive moral compass, all while being hunted by the other group bc she ditched their jobs n now has to face the consequences or smth, Idk idk

It would help if I had any understanding of how mobs/organised crime shit worked or even watched those kinds of shows/movies lmaofnakfmdjs

I'll finish it off with the modern fantasy au I've been thinking about bc I love it dearly, staring alpha werewolf Baku, alpha dragon Kiri, and bamf witch Ochako

At some point or other Baku gets the entire Bakusquad + Deku, Tetsu, Camie, and Ochako living in his packhouse bc he takes a great deal of pride in caring for his pack members and it's actually really easy for his alpha to categorise people as pack, but you'd have to pull out all his teeth before he admits it

Some of them just decided they lived there now n didn't leave, but both Kiri (+Tetsu) and Ochako were brought in by Baku bc his alpha's love language is acts of service/providing and clearly they both benefitted from the move so "why tf are you making such a big deal about it?? Just pack your shit n get it moved in, you've got a week"

Kirikacchako dance around each other hardcore in this au, to the exasperation of everyone else. The alphas try to play off their urges to provide n scentmark as subtly as possible, and since Ochako isn't aware of the meaning it goes pretty well. But literally everyone else is rolling their eyes n making bets on how long it takes them to get their shit together lmaojdidudj

A scene I have pictured for them (and the first one I came up with for this au) is Ochako going out somewhere and Kiri n Baku both casually scent her before she heads out, thinking they're all slick n shit. But as soon as she leaves Deku levels them with the most deadpan expression he can make n says "that was the least subtle thing I've ever seen in my life", and as Baku snaps n goes "I dunno what you're talking about" Kiri replies with a smug "I wasn't trying to be😏"

And like. Realistically the alphas know Ochako isn't really an omega, but she does share some traditional omega qualities that have their alphas going wild (period cycle=heat cycle, round n squishy but will fight you=strength n size for providing healthy pups + the ability to protect them, etc.) so it's understandable that their alphas would slip up n refer to her as their omega, right? Right??

It also doesn't help that after taking Ochako with them on full moon runs, she's been chatting with some of the betas n omegas there and asking how to better communicate with the boys (to avoid miscommunication, she says). But they've both marked her so much that the betas n omegas think she's their courted omega, so they teach her vocal cues n what they mean coming from an alpha, and teach her how to purr and chirp in response.

They don't think to mention the significance behind some of the cues they teach her bc why would they? Smelling as strongly as she does, there's no way those alphas aren't going to give her their bite n bond with her. Why would they need to explain some of the more provocative noises they teach her? They're just helping her for when her alphas decide it's the right time to mate her, is all

I haven't gotten around to how their tension n dancing breaks, but it does eventually n they do get together n bond and all that good stuff, and eventually they have werewolf/dragon/magic hybrid babies bc I have quirkbabes design in another au n I'm obviously dropping them into every au I possibly can bc I love them n put a lot of work into them (and they're super pretty, so I'm showing them off where ever I can assuming I actually draw smth for this au eventually rip)

And wow, this is getting kinda long n rambly so I'm gonna end it here, but I hope that this was kinda what you were looking for landkwidjdkwbf

If you wanna know more about any of the aus just let me know, I could ramble forever

Or if you have any other kirikacchako ideas you wanna hear about feel free to drop them off, I don't mind!! ^-^

[vincent-frankenstein]

41: “You did all of this for me?” With Moceit plz?

Summary: Deceit loves getting sick. He loves having to lock himself away in his room to protect his reputation, to protect himself from being coddled. He can’t let the others see him in such a state. But then they find out, and Patton won’t let him ride it out alone. 

Warnings: sickness, weakness, Banter and teasing, sympathetic deceit

Pairing: moceit with like, background familial dlamp 

@figurative-siren-song uwu

Deceit just loved being sick.

Really, it was such fun! It involved all of his favoritepastimes — such as being unable to leave his bed for days on end, and coughingup a lung every time he tried to speak, and sneezing his goddamn brains out every five minutes. He could think of no grander way tospend his time lying curled up in bed, trying to force his stomach to staywhere it belonged.

And the added bonus of being completely and utterly trapped? Well, that wasjust the cherry-on-top.

Obviously, he could let the others see him like this. Such glaringsigns of weakness would never be used to his disadvantage! Why, they'dprobably drop everything to care for him, to nurse him back to health like the"family" they claimed to be!

Not.

He sneered, glaring balefully at the cup of tea on his desk. It hadlong since gone cold, but he couldn't risk going out to get a new one. It wastimes like this where he almost wished things could go back to how they used to be;at least then he'd have access to the old kitchen, the one in the Others' partof the mindscape, where he knew he wouldn't be seen. There could be any numberof sides waiting for him in their newer, grayer commons, and the thought ofanyone seeing him in such a state made his stomach churn.

Besides, he doubted he'd survive such an encounter. With how his head ached,one boisterous laugh from Roman or offended screech from Logan would be enoughto kill him. He wasn't too keen on the idea of dying. Surpringing, Iknow, from the embodiment of self-preservation.

But he was hardly needy. He could handle a few days on his own. He greetedhis solitude with open arms, and —

Oh no.

He barely had a moment to hiss a panicked curse before the bed dropped outfrom under him and he was tugged down-sideways-up until the living room floorrose up to meet his feet. He staggered, pressing his hand over his mouth andstumbling into the banister.

"Deceit?" Oh. Good, good, good. That was Patton's voice.He could hear Logan shifting beside him. He was in the commons, how fun! Definitely not a terrifying prospect. "Are you okay,kiddo?"

He shifted against the stairs until he was leaning nonchalantly, and crossedhis arms, lifting an eyebrow. "Of course not," he said, digging hisfingernails into his arm to keep from coughing. He was met with four confused,disbelieving stares.

"I've got a more important question," Roman declared. "Arethose Scooby-Doo pajamas?"

Deceit's nose twitched with annoyance. "...No."

"They totally are!" Roman's laughter was like tiny explosionsagainst Deceit's aching eardrums. It took everything in him to not wince.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to have leisure clothes,"Deceit snapped. "You have oh-so-much room to judge, Roman, in thatsale-rack Halloween costume of yours."

If Roman's laughter was tiny explosions, his offended squawking was likeshoving a bazooka into Deceit's ear and firing. "'Sale-rack Halloween costume?'"he repeated, one hand clutched against his chest. "How dare you?!Do you have any idea how much effort I put into this outfit?! Weeksspent planning and sewing —"

"Falsehood," Logan cut in, raising an eyebrow. "You told meyourself you simply conjured it up on a whim."

"Wh — but — okay, but, the emotional effort —"

"Now, now, kiddos, let's not fight, okay?" Patton said, holding uphis hands placatingly. "Roman, your outfit is lovely. And Dee, yourpajamas are super cute!"

Deceit blinked. "...Thanks," he said drily, to which Pattonbeamed, completely genuine. "Alright, can we get to whatever dilemma youneed my help with? I wasn't in the middle of something."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure your midday nap is way more important thanhelping Thomas," Virgil said with a roll of his eyes. Deceit opened hismouth to retort, but Logan lifted a hand.

"Enough," he said evenly. "Deceit, I assume you're aware ofthe surprise party that Thomas plans to throw for Joan's birthday nextweek?"

"What? No!" Deceit placed a hand against his chest,feigning surprise. "Why would I know about that? It's not like I suggestedit!"

Logan continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Thomas is about to spend aprolonged amount of time with Joan to brainstorm ideas for the channel. We needyou to, ah —"

"Keep his mouth shut," Deceit finished, and Logan nodded."Well, as fun as that sounds, I do believe I'll have to pass."

"What? Why?"

Because his legs had begun to shake, and he doubted he could stay uprightfor much longer. Because his throat ached and twinged with every word out ofhis mouth. Because his head pounded, black spots dancing in front of his eyes,and he just wanted to sleep, goddamnit.

"I have some personal business to attend to," he said simply.

Virgil huffed. "'Personal business?'" he repeated, raising aneyebrow.

"Yes. I'm afraid I must nunya," Deceit said.

Patton's eyebrows furrowed. "What's 'nunya?'"

"Nunya business," Deceit said. He shoved away from the banisterand drew himself to his full height. "Roman is more than capable of comingup with excuses for our dear boy Thomas. Now, if you'll excuse me —"

"Hold on, you expect me to do your job for you? After you insulted myprecious outfit! Ha! Fat chance, Lyin' King!" Roman declared,setting his hands on his hips.

"Technically, you insulted his outfit first," Logan said. He dugaround in his pocket for a moment, drawing out an index card. "'Nocap.'"

"Well, yeah, of course there's no cap!" Patton said, a smilegrowing on his face. "Dee's not wearin' his hat!"

Logan's groan was like stepping on a landmine. Deceit couldn't help butwince, pain wracking through his skull, pressure building inside his forehead.Black spots danced before his eyes. When the world slotted back into placearound him he found every eye in the room on him, and he shifted beneath thesearchlights, eyes narrowing.

"You don't look very okay, kiddo," Patton said, with concern inhis eyes. Deceit's nose twitched.

"I assure you, I am fine —"

"Yeah, bullshit," Virgil said. "You look like shit. Well,shittier than usual."

"How kind of you to say, Virgil," Deceit said, with a roll of hiseyes. "I must say, you're looking quite shitty yourself, as usual."

Virgil hissed — and Deceit made the ultimate mistake of hissing back. Thecoughing fit that followed had him wheezing for breath, tears building in hiseyes, and when it finally subsided he was met with the worst punishment of all:pity.

"Oh, honey... you're sick," Patton said softly.

"Well, now the pajamas make sense!" Roman said, nodding tohimself, as if that was the most important aspect of their conversation. Deceittook a step back, eyes narrowing.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he said, voice ragged. "It definitelymatters."

"Yes, it does," Logan said. "As metaphysical beings, we areincapable of dying, but that doesn't mean we can't get sick. Any illnesses wedo manage to catch should be treated properly, lest they become worse."

"Gee, sure wish I'd thought of that!" Deceit said, in ahigh-pitched tone that made his throat ache. "Oh, wait, I did. I wasresting before you all decided to drag me out here!"

Logan blinked. "'My bad,'" he said awkwardly, pulling out a vocabcard.

"Yeah, if I had known you were sick, I never would have made fun ofyou," Roman said, and to his credit, he did look genuinely apologetic."Your pajamas are quite becoming."

Deceit yanked his shirt into place and rolled his eyes. "Thank you,Roman," he said, only half sarcastic. At Roman's pressing stare, hesighed. "Your outfit is ridiculously ugly as well."

"Hey! Oh — wait, thanks!"

"Now am I allowed to go rest?"

"Of course." Logan straightened his tie and nodded. "Myapologies for dragging you into this, Deceit."

"I don't accept your apology." Finally he was free to sinkdown, and he did so with great relief, collapsing onto his bed with anexhausted sigh. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pretended like the roomwasn't rocking around him.

And that's how he spent the five hours that followed: curled up atop hisbed, shivering and miserable. He considered it a worthy use of his time. Whatelse could he have been doing? Something productive? Unrealistic.

When the knocking first began, he had sunk so deeply into the throes ofexhaustion that he brushed them off as hallucinations. But then came a voice,muffled through the door: "Dee?"

Ah. Patton. Far be it from him to let Deceit simply rest. He lifted himselfas well as he could, wobbling dangerously, and hissed out a vague response.

"Okay, well, there's no need to be like that," Patton said."I've got somethin' for ya downstairs, if you feel down to seein'it!"

"I definitely need some inane movie night right now,"Deceit hissed, words lisping and slurring. His room had grown quite cold, buthe hardly had the strength to turn on the heat. "I'm doing just fine in here,thanks."

"Dee, I know you," Patton said. "You're probably hidin' inthere with the heat off, wallowin' in your own self-pity."

"... No I'm not."

Patton sighed. "Take it from me, hun," he said. "That's notgonna make anything better. You can't hide from your sickness and jus' hope itgoes away."

Deceit groaned. "I can damn well try!"

"No. No, you can't," Patton said. "I promise, it's not amovie night. Or, well — not technically. Would you just come down?"

"I'm afraid this illness is terminal, Patton," Deceit said."They've already had to amputate both my legs. I can't walk."

"Oh, poor baby," Patton cooed — and then he gently pushed open thedoor and stepped inside. He rubbed away the goosebumps on his arms, shivering."Oh, honey, it's like a freezer box in here! And you're not even under anyblankets!"

"I like the cold," Deceit insisted, stubborn as ever. Hesniffled, burrowing into his pillow so he didn't have to look at Patton'ssympathetic frown. "Leave me to die, Morality. It's far too late forme."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Patton rolled up hissleeves and — hefted Deceit into his arms, and oh, oh wow, he was reallystrong — and he nestled Deceit against his chest and carried him out of theroom.

Deceit hadn't the energy to struggle, but even if he did, he doubted hewould have. Patton's touch was burning fire against his skin and he melted intoit, eyes slipping shut. He hadn't realized how cold he'd truly become until thewarmth drove the ice from his bones, bringing feeling back to his fingers andtoes.

The living room had been thrown to chaos — the couches pushed aside, theircushions torn from their seats to become building blocks for the grandestblanket fort Deceit had ever seen. Patton set him down in the center and stood,brushing off his hands.

"Wh... what is this?" Deceit asked, eyes narrowing. The jolt ofwarmth had brought clarity back to his mind, and with it came that familiar,sharp suspicion. The living room was dark, the lights dimmed to a comfortableglow — and the Netflix startup screen shone on the tv. None of the others werein sight.

"Well," Patton said, lowering himself down to the edge of the fortto sit. "Virge told us about your tendency to hide away wheneveryou're feelin' less-than-okay."

Ah. A betrayal, then. He knew there was something shady behind this.

"And, well, I know the feeling..." Patton twisted his handstogether in his lap, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of his otherhand. "So I figured, if you gotta feel miserable, you might as well do itcomfortably!"

Deceit raised an eyebrow, and Patton stood. "You've got full access toNetflix, and there's a couple different heatin' pads in there. I'm cookin' upsome chicken noodle soup for ya, and then I'll get outta your hair. We'll all stayclear of the commons for ya."

Deceit blinked. He glanced around the fort, this time with wide-eyedconfusion rather than suspicion. "And you did all of this... for me?"

"Well, yeah!" Patton said, as if it made all the sense in theworld. "I care about you, hun. We all do."

...Huh. For the first time in his life, Deceit was stricken speechless, notby fury, but by care. He looked down to his lap, and then back up atPatton, and forced bitter truth to coat his words. "Thank you," hesaid, more genuine than he'd ever allow himself to be otherwise.

"'Course!" Patton beamed. "Alrighty, I'm gonna go finish up that soupfor ya! Then I'll stop botherin' you —"

"You're not," Deceit said before he could stop himself. Pattontilted his head to the side; the sight was undeniably adorable.

"Not what?"

"... Bothering me," Deceit finished lamely. "You don't haveto... leave. If you don't want to."

Patton's lips parted in a little 'o' of surprise — and then he smiled, andit looked like the sunrise. Deceit leaned closer to the heating pad at his sideand pretended that that was the reason for the flames blazing across his face."Are you sure?"

"I mean, it's not like I care either way," Deceit said. Brusquely,he snatched the remote from its pillow-throne and began clicking throughNetflix. His eyes narrowed. "As long as you don't get too close. I wouldn'tfeel terrible if you got sick."

Patton made a little squeak, almost inhuman in how touched and excited itwas, and he nodded, hair flopping down in his face. "Soup for two it is,then!" he said, and bounced off into the kitchen.

An hour later, Deceit fell asleep against Patton's chest.

A few days later, Patton got sick.

Deceit built him a blanket fort.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Together

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33196183

Kairi creeps into the Hall of the Cornerstone and ends up seeing a memory of Minnie's--and perhaps gets more than she bargained for, as her own emotions and regrets come to the surface--and with it a friendship that will carry her through any trial.

For @mademoiseli Happy late birthday, sweetie!

Kairi sat down on the steps that led out of the Hall of the Cornerstone, wondering if she should go down there or not

She wanted to be a bad girl for once—as a sort of fun, perhaps, as her world had so recently fallen down—and go there against her better judgement … and some of the other Guardians of Lights’ judgement as well, if she was being honest.

Because now that they all knew that strong lights could be used to house darknesses without being corrupted—and strong lights and darknesses might call to each other like moths to a flame—there was even the chance, that a strong light like the Cornerstone of Light could resonate with Kairi too strongly. What if it tried to pull her into it, or she pulled it into herself?

These were the reasons that the Guardians had thought it a good idea that Kairi stay away from the light that kept Disney Castle safe from harm.

…But curiosity had killed the cat, and Kairi found that was very much her case when she found herself wandering down into the basement, anyway, just to get a look.

Though what ended up drawing her attention was not the Cornerstone of Light. Rather, it was this almost liquid—thought not quite—with wisps going into it, on a nearby table that had recently been erected, if its drying silver paint was anything to go by.

Kairi grew closer to it, peering into the water, where she curiously saw what looked like Lady Daisy, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Chip, Dale, someone who looked as though they were related to Goofy, and Aqua watching as Queen Minnie gave Pete an earful!

Kairi had no idea how this scene was playing out before her, without sound, but she definitely wanted to find out! So, she walked even closer to it, but ended up tripping, with her face falling face first into the water… and there, she could see this memory—perhaps that’s what it was—in all its glory.

“…Pete, we counted the votes very carefully. Ventus, Aqua, and Terra won. Oh, Pete. I think you tried to do something good, but you were doing it for the wrong reasons, and you went about it the wrong way. Still, a couple of citizens must have thought you had goodness in you, because you actually got a few votes. They knew you were looking out for them.”

Kairi didn’t know what was going on exactly, but maybe she could make some guesses based off of the Queen’s words? But Pete seemed to be boiling with anger, as he often was, and Queen Minnie seemed to be very sweet in dealing with him now and trying to reassure him that the people still cared about him, Kairi saw.

And though this was surely a memory of the past, the Princess of Heart almost wanted to believe that the other light wielder could get through to him. And that maybe things could be different for them all, going forward, if she could…

But then it all took a turn for the worst, as Pete turned towards Queen Minnie angrily.

“Big whoop! I don’t need their lousy votes! Just cough up my prize!”

And then he extended a hand towards Queen Minnie. And Kairi didn’t know if he’d meant to harm her or steal the prize, but she felt her heart go out for the small queen all the same, and her plight here.

And Kairi wanted to believe she would have had such strength and heart in the situation, without her own king.

“Pete!” Queen Minnie exclaimed. “They voted for you because they believe in you and care about you. How could you look down on that? I’ve tried to forgive a lot of things you’ve done, but this is too much. Now you’ve finally crossed the line.”

“Like that matters to me,” Pete shot back rather expertly, not seeming to care how he’d hurt Queen Minnie in the slightest with his line. And it pained Kairi to see.” Besides, what are you going to do about it?” he challenged.

“Ha! I’m gonna let you cool off for a while. Guards!” And at that point, some of the magic brooms showed up and carried Pete off, while Queen Minnie frowned at him, heartbroken, the whole time.

Kairi wondered if this was when he was banished to another dimension—another world—for all he’d done, like Sora had told her about before. She wouldn’t have been surprised.

And with that last sad image of the Queen being the last thing Kairi saw, the memory must have been over, and Kairi was pulled out of it, gasping. And she was surprised to see none other than Queen Minnie herself was watching her now!

“Quite an ordeal, wasn’t it young Kairi?” she asked. And somehow, she seemed to look at Kairi with sadness for Pete, she guessed. But not for Kairi. And no disappointment, either. It was as if she was okay with Kairi spying on her memories. Even though she’d had no right to do it at all.

“Your majesty,” Kairi stammered, dropping to a bow right away, and trying to find her graces, and the girl who might have once belittled Sora and Riku for getting into a situation, because her past self never would have… how sad it was that her present self would. “I’m so, so sorry. I had no right at all to do any of this. Especially since you’re being so kind as to let us look all over your world for Sora right now… I’ll go now.”

Queen Minnie laughed. And it was a pretty sound… and an encouraging one, that had Kairi stopping from going back up the steps that led to the audience chamber, and rather turn around to face the woman. “I acted quite like the Queen there… but part of me regrets it, you know? Because surely Pete had done worse things than that. Why was it him not appreciating people believing in him, that was the final straw for me? Was it that I was just too angry that day?”

“I think my subconscious mind, though not my conscious one, partly wondered about that when I saw your memory just now, too,” Kairi admitted, offering Queen Minnie a small smile, in seeing that they thought very much the same.

“N-not that you were too angry!”, she quickly explained, realizing her words could be misconstrued. “But what it was about that day in particular… And sometimes I wonder about my own anger. Like why I was so livid at Organization XIII. Maybe if I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have been part of the Keyblade War and Sora would still be here…”

And God help her, Kairi was crying now. Something she definitely didn’t want to do in front of this Queen at all.

But Queen Minnie was merciful and kind, and motioned for Kairi to lean down, so she could wipe her tear away. “You mustn’t blame yourself for that, Kairi, dear. As I understand it, if you hadn’t been there, Sora would have died, and that awful prophecy about light expiring would have come true. So, it was a good thing you were there!

“And goodness me, you don’t have to be so formal with me. I’d like to think we’re all friends here. Call me Minnie!

“But it- it’s hard, isn’t it? I think we who strive closer to the light, often doubt ourselves when we get away from it. But I think those reasons happen for a reason, too. Like with Pete: when you can’t see the goodness of people recognizing you, I feel you can no longer see anything. And you can too easily become caught in the darkness then… and I think that’s why I did what I did with Pete … Do you understand, Kairi?”

“Yes, I think I do!” Kairi beamed, pulling the mouse Queen into a hug. And she didn’t know if this was right or dignified or whatever, but since Queen Minnie said that they could be friends, she decided to just go for it.

And when Queen Minnie hugged her back like it was the simplest thing in the world—magic and healing seeming to fill up Kairi’s heart as she did—she wondered if this was the start of something here.

“Thank you so much for comforting me today… Minnie. I don’t know what I would have done without you. And thank you for not caring that I accidentally spied on your memory!”

The two women started out of the audience chamber now, and would begin a journey through the hall and back to the library, much like the one Queen Minnie had taken with Sora before—feeding off each other’s light as they did so—and it would end up being a key to them finding Sora.

Queen Minnie held Kairi’s hand in hers, like Donald and Goofy had Sora’s multiple times, and Mickey had Riku’s, that many times, as well. “Hehe. Of course, my dear. And know that we’ll find Sora together.”

“Together.”

Author’s Note: Yes, it was a pensieve Kairi used. And my explanation for one being here, is that Disney apparently almost made the first Harry Potter movie. This is mentioned in the “A Conversation Between Daniel Radcliffe and J.K. Rowling” video on the Deathly Hallows DVD.

Written for you, Mademoiseli! I hope you enjoyed!

[burnedbyshoto]

Weak

anonymous asked: can we get a bakugou fluff based on the song hug all ur friends by cavetwon

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: bakugou has high anxiety, cussing, fluff

word count: 4,000

a/n: so I listened to the 1 hour loop to this song when writing it LMAO, I think its one of my better pieces ive written, but I guess that’s also for you to decide!!!!!! enjoy!!!!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou Katsuki was someone who had no guilt in admitting that he cared about himself first and foremost. Bakugou Katsuki never imagined a day would come where he would find himself interested in someone-- especially in a romantic setting.

Romance and Bakugou, to him it seemed like mixing oil and water. Impractical and impossible.

Bakugou was hard, rough, and explosive.

Romance was soft, tender, and weakening.

So for the life of him, Bakugou could not understand why on god you were consuming his thoughts. Why did you have him wrapped around your fingers despite you only being his best friend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

Bakugou stared at you from the distance, his eyes were warm, his face soft, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

You were a force, this overwhelming energy that he could not figure out.

You weren’t like Kirishima who gained his friendship through mutual respect and trust in each other’s strengths. You weren’t like Sero or Mina who he came to see as friends after he used them for their quirks two years ago. You weren’t like Kaminari who he saw as a friend because Kirishima came as this unknown package deal.

You were soft, tender, and in no way were you weak, but Bakugou couldn’t think of any other word to describe you but weak.

It made no sense as to how you two became friends. The two of you had spoken once! Then you landed a punch on his jaw so strong that he needed to go to Recovery Girl and you cried for hours afterward. Bakugou thought it was dumb that you were apologizing so he yelled at you for being stupid. Seconds later you two were friends.

“Bakasuki, it’s way past your bedtime!” You screamed as you looked up from your phone. Your eyes red with tiredness and irritation still shone as you made eye contact. The impressed grin on your face as strong as if it was midday. “It’s midnight?!”

Bakugou felt his face cement over again. It was an involuntary action as you rambled off about how the big softie Bakugou Katsuki was awake at 'crackhead' hours. As you got up and walked over to Bakugou, he felt his hardened features melt as you took a stance in front of him.

“I bet you’re staying up because of me, come on, admit that you like me.”

Your words are teasing of course, yet Bakugou’s heart clenches at the truth of your words. Bakugou one year ago had begun staying awake past nine because of you. You were always active at night! You told new stories that Bakugou wanted to hear at a late hour, and Bakugou soon found himself staying up.

Ten at night turned to eleven, eleven became twelve, and then Bakugou was up until two in the morning because of you. He never complained about it, and he never dared to tell you or anyone about it. Bakugou took every teasing you gave, and you teased him about him staying up every night even if it was a year later.

“Trust me, if I was staying up because of you I would fucking hate myself,” Bakugou lies as you laugh. “Don’t think you’re fucking special because I tolerate you.”

His words were harsh to the average ear, but to the trained ear, to your ear, it was as if he nudged you playfully.

“Sure you old grump,” you wink as you stick out your hand. “Iida said it’s my turn with the Disney+, wanna go watch with me?” 

“As long as you don’t make me watch something fucking horrible,” Bakugou grunts as he takes your hand.

He would watch the sappiest of movies and the weirdest of shows if it meant that you’d snuggle into his side. His favorite memories have you at his left. These memories also included you between his legs as you laughed hysterically at the horrible and childish jokes. It also didn’t matter how many times you watched the same movie, you always ramble as if it was your first time viewing it.

“I’m thinking Lilo and Stitch,” you let him into your thoughts as you begin walking towards the staircase. His hand is still locked with yours. “I think I can be Lilo, and you can be Stitch! You two have very similar personalities!”

“Like hell I’m anything like that fucking animal!”

“I didn’t even need to goad you into a reaction!”

“Shut up dumbass…”

“If I ever stopped talking to you, you would go insane! So careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you would shut up…”

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed flat together. A faux annoyed expression on your face and you dropped his hand.

It may have embarrassed Bakugou to admit what he did next, but it took him five seconds to crack under your cold shoulder. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked to your room. Your squealing exclamations were loud as he held your lower thigh.

“See I told you--”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty woman!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your loud groan rang in Bakugou’s ears and his eyebrow twitched as he once again looked at your slumped figure. It was the second to last set of finals you guys would be taking as hero students. Three years later, you were nearing the final countdown to graduation! But that meant finals.

Bakugou had managed to stay within the top three of his class all three years. So he felt decent in where he was in class ranking right now. He has ranked third right now after all, but you ranked fifteenth. A feat that he had zero idea about how it came to be considering how smart you were. You had a sharp mind, a witty sense of humor, and a deadly tongue! Yet you were barely outperforming the rest of his idiot friends. You were one of the few people who could beat him in a verbal challenge! But when it came to pencil and paper tests, you stumbled hard.

“Would you stop fucking groaning?! You’re not getting anything done except getting on my goddamn nerves!”

“WELL!” You immediately yelled back, your nose stuck to the sky as you tossed your pencil away. “I don’t know actually! I screamed well because I live for the dramatics!" Bakugou groaned as you laugh. "Okay, but this all makes sense to me now! It's... I’ve realized I become an idiot whenever I try doing it on the exams.”

“It’s because you are an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” you complain as you slam your forehead against your math textbook. You shot back up gasping loudly. “OH SHIT! Bakugou you solved all my problems! This entire time I’ve been an idiot! I’ll tell Deku to give me some smart people juice tomorrow morning, obviously, I’ve been sipping the idiot juice.”

“Hah? Fucking hell -- do you ever shut up and wait for me to finish what I’m saying?!”

“Bakasuki, there was a period at the end of that sentence! Or let me guess what you’d say next!”

“Don’t fucking guess--”

“‘Oi, shitty woman, I’m Baku-hoe Kat-sucky, and you better get your head outta your asshole! Maybe if you weren’t always on your goddamn phone you wouldn’t be failing’!” Your voice had lowered multiple octaves to the point where you sounded like you smoked every day. Bakugou watched as your face contorted into a mock scowl, your nose stuck into the air as your arms folded across your chest. “‘I’m the alpha nerd here, so you have to fucking listen to me, you damn fucking nerd ass shitty woman!’”

Bakugou remained silent as you erupted in giggles, your eyes beaming with joy as you looked at him.

“I don’t fucking cuss, shitty woman,” Bakugou retorted. He knew it was a lie but the way your eyes expanded four times their size and how you pressed your face into his shoulder was worth the lie.

“You don’t cuss?! Wow, suddenly my name isn’t y/n!”

“Hm, well I was going to point out that you probably have some form of testing anxiety, but since you’re Miss. Fucking-Know-It-All…”

“There’s no way I’m eighteen and don’t know that about me!”

“Well, you didn’t fucking know you loved chocolate caramels until this last month either.”

This launched you into another tangent. Your conversation skills always gave Bakugou whiplash! You talked about everything you could and right now it was about what you loved. It should have annoyed Bakugou, he knew that! But while you rambled about how you loved seeing oversized dogs in bags, he realized that he loved knowing more about you.

How he would kill for the chance to pull you close, he knew that if he did you would hug him without a blink of an eye. Bakugou knew if he attempted to feel your warmth you’d overwhelm him forever and he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted. Did he want you? Did he actually love you or was it just the chemistry in his brain is dumb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted as you showcased your favorite pencil.

“Do you have something you love, ‘suki?”

You.

“No, I don’t fucking love anything. The hell is love good for?”

“Don’t you worry about what people think about you when you can’t answer a question on something you love?”

The only opinion he cares about is yours.

“They don’t need to fucking care about what I love, how the hell does that make me a reliable pro hero?! Gossip and tabloids and interviews are bullshit. How is me smiling and being nice in front of a camera going to prove anything?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around him drawing him into a tight embrace. His eyes blinked rapidly as he felt frozen. His hands are frozen at his side as you pressed into him. You were making him dizzy. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared you could hear it as you pressed your lips to his ear.

“Sometimes you just have to hug people, let them know that you’re not letting go. Being kind and offering a hand, even if it kills your feral vibes, gives them a reason to love you and trust them. Trust is important, you know that, dummy. Hugging them is a small promise of not letting go.”

His breathing stilled as you pulled away. Your hair fell in your face and you sucked everything out of him as you smiled softly. But who would Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t have something back to say?

“I’m not fucking hugging any of those damn extras out there!”

“It was a FIGURE OF SPEECH, BAKAGOU!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Rise and shine, grumpy old man!” Your voice rang as bright sunshine shone through Bakugou’s room.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Shut my goddamn shutters!”

“It is past noon, and I am here to make sure you are in fact alive!”

“Shitty woman, please close the damn shutters… I got in three hours ago and I want to fucking sleep in.”

The shutters closed immediately and guilt hung heavy in your voice as you said, “Wait you got in at nine?! You got called out of class early, too!”

Bakugou who had been sitting up now, glowering at your form fell back onto his mattress without a word. Unfortunately, it seemed that you weren’t quite done with him.

“Why the hell are you still in my room?”

“...can I nap with you?”

“Hah?”

“I was out from five in the morning until a few minutes ago! I just… want to cuddle, but if you don’t want to that’s totally cool!”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he nearly growls. It wasn’t necessarily directed at you, but instead himself. He was going to let you obviously, but how much longer could he do this uncaring act? How he hadn’t just slammed your oblivious ass against a door to kiss the soul out of you was beyond him. “Get in.”

A loud squeal emitted from your throat as Bakugou felt your figure snuggling into his chest. Your body was cold against his, and he resisted the urge to shiver as you wrapped his arm around you.

“I never fucking said you were allowed to cuddle.”

“Oh please, you were going to latch onto me at some point, might as well do it now instead of waking up to it and freaking out.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Shh, I’m trying to nap.”

Bakugou snorted but nonetheless brought you in closer as he too closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep with you in his arms. It wasn’t until he woke up did he realize that today was to be your friend's date. Something you had been persistent in having. But as you too woke up at half-past seven p.m., the both of you agreed that the nap was way better than going out.

That is until Kaminari sent a picture of Bakugou and you cuddling to the group chat. But then again, Bakugou may or may not have saved it as his home screen.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

4:48 a.m.

Bakugou’s eyes focused on the neon red numbers that illuminated across his bed. His alarm was positioned as such so he would be forced to get up to turn it off in the morning.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as everything turned blurry.

4:49 a.m.

His eyes closed and he was suddenly back in Kamino two years ago.

His body felt dirty, sticky, unclean.

His mouth tainted with the taste of copper. His teeth gritting together as he saw All Might fighting in front of him.

It was hard to fight with his sweat-soaked and stiff clothes. All he knew was those bastards turned from wanting to convert him to wanting him dead. He remembers stumbling and seeing your frantic eyes in the corner of his vision. He didn't know you well back then, so it confused him, at least before a yell from Kirishima took his attention away.

It was the first actual memory he had of you, and yet it intertwined with his memory of All Might’s downfall. A downfall that could have been prevented if he had just been fucking better. If he had been a better hero maybe he wouldn’t have been caught. If he had been a better person maybe he would never have been targeted in the first place. It didn’t matter how many different ways he ran through his memories, it always ended up being his fault.

The fight with Deku had helped relieve the surface tension. All Might saying it wasn’t his fault barely made an impact on the guilt demon that ate away at his inner thoughts.

Simply told, tonight was a bad night. Nothing he did could drive away the guilt demon.

You were the one who made him strong but you were out on a mission for your hero work. You were being a hero to people who needed you, yet Bakugou wanted you to be his hero right now…

His anxiety crawled down his spine. His mind swimming back to the image of All Might's defeated form, and it kept reeling in his mind. His palms sweated profusely, but at this point, he had no idea if it was from his anxiety or from his quirk.

It burned to breathe and he wanted to go for a run, but he knew he shouldn’t. So he stood up out of bed choosing to walk down to the kitchen.

4:57 a.m., the clock read as the door shut behind him.

He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway, his heart racing as he went down the staircase.

The lights were on and it made his eyes hurt as he opened the door for the ground floor.

“‘Suki?” A tired voice whispered as Bakugou stared up.

It was you.

Your uniform looked rumpled and dirty. Your tie wasn’t done and your hair was a mess as you yawn, your hand rubbing your eye as you waved at him. Bakugou saw the bandage on your neck and cheek and he pointed at them.

“Some dumbass with a--” you stifle a yawn as you shake your head. “Fucking vampire quirk! If he bit you, and consumed your blood, you would be entranced with him! Can you believe that!”

Bakugou snorted as you showed him the bruised mark on your neck.

“Thing is, he doesn’t have fangs, his teeth were super dull, so now I look like I had sex!”

“Can’t have people thinking that huh?”

“Nah... now, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew better than to lie to you, but he couldn’t help it, you needed to sleep.

“Nothing, I needed water.”

“I’m sure you are,” you nod your head as you adjust your backpack. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks.”

His eyes widened as he felt the wet stains on his face, he was indeed crying.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he grumbled as his hands shoved into his sweats.

“That’s okay,” you smile as you take a few steps forward. “Can I give you a hug?”

It takes everything in him not to scream at you to hug him, so instead, he turns his head and nods curtly. Your arms are wrapped around him immediately as he feels himself shrinking into your hold. You were safe, you were warm, and you made him weak.

It was at that moment that Bakugou Katsuki noticed that he completely and utterly was in love with you.

As he went through these thoughts you grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, “I’ll get you your water, but you need to rest.”

“Shitty woman, I can take care of myself,” Bakugou breathed as he didn’t resist you taking him to his room. “Besides we have class tomorrow, you need more sleep than I do.”

He watches as you shrug as you open his room door.

“Maybe so, but I’m a Hero and you’re someone in need of a savior!” you chirped as your lips pressed softly onto his cheek as you sat him in bed. “I’ll be right back, lay down please!”

He nodded dumbly as you left, his cheeks burning as the door closed.

It felt like no time had passed as you soon returned with a cup of water, “Now drink! Crying is good for the soul, but it dehydrates you so much.”

“Tch, idiot, don’t say that like you cry all the time,” Bakugou grumbles as he chugs the water down.

Your fingers take the glass from him and place it onto the desk, your shoulders bouncing as you sigh one last time. “Well, I should go to bed, I may not need beauty sleep, but even three hours of sleep can make me ugly.”

“Sleep here,” Bakugou found himself mumbling as you were by the door. “You can take a shirt, I just… please, just fucking sleep here with me?”

Bakugou expected teasing, he expected you to laugh it off and say he was dumb and crazy. What he didn’t expect was for you to grab his skull t-shirt and strip your clothes off in his bathroom.

He stilled as you crawled into bed with him, your body curling into his as you held him near.

“Goodnight, ‘suki,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, a sharp intake of air went through your nose.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You smile while wiping away tears that formed in your eyes.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you taped up the last box with writing that read: Y/N PICTURES.

It was moving out day, you had done it, you graduated.

“Y/l/n-chan!! Stop crying and c-come take a p-p-picture with us!” Mina wailed as she too was crying uncontrollably.

The common room was fill of every one of your classmates, tears were in everyone's eyes as boxes scattered near the entrance. It was over. Three years of heaven and hell were gone and even though everyone would still be seeing everyone again (you all were working in the same general areas after all), tears wouldn’t stop.

Multiple times you brushed away tears as twenty-one of you stood for class pictures.

Class pictures became friend group pictures, friend group pictures became trios and duo pictures.

Everyone was crying and everyone was laughing too. It was as if you were never going to see anyone again and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I love you’s were exchanged, promises of not forgetting who each other were as you would all become stars, and plans on monthly meetups because you were family. It was too much, it was too sentimental, and you were ready to leave.

“I hate to do this to you all, but it’s time to go,” Aizawa lulled over the roar of your classes chatter.

For the first time, his words were useless as you all took a photo with him, much to your homeroom teachers' secret enjoyment.

But now it was time to go.

You gave a one-armed hug to Mineta as he bounded out of the door. He had somewhat had drunk respect-women juice and was now tolerable. But the nightmares forever remained.

Then Koda, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, Tokoyami, and Sato were done swiftly yet deeply. They all said kind words and promises to keep in touch as they left.

Then it was Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya. The group of boys embraced you tightly as Iida told you and Midoriya to stop crying. It only strengthening your tears as Todoroki patted your back softly.

Then it was Mina, Momo, Jirou, Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure. The girl group and the reason why this class felt like family so quickly made you cry harder as you all lost it. Hugs were tight, hugs lasted minutes long as you all shouted over each other. This was not goodbye, just a see you later.

Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Jirou once again met you for a tight embrace. The dubbed Bakusquad because Bakugou was the loudest one in the group, but you all knew that if the group never held Kirishima it would never work. Bakusquad was truly Kirisquad and you excitedly talked about how you were all going to karaoke on Sunday.

A gentle cough broke you from Sero’s embrace and you turned to the last person who you hadn’t hugged yet.

Bakugou didn’t look at you as he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he looked at you. Your lips quirked as your heart raced at his red-tinged eyes, he had cried too.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari yelled as the boxes in the now empty common room belonged to you.

“We’re still on for tonight?” Bakugou asked as his finger brushed the wet trails that stained your cheeks.

“Have I ever ditched you or stood you up?”

“You could have made plans in your crying hysteria, it’s been done before.”

His words are teasing and you laugh as you launch yourself into his arms. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest around your waist.

“I don’t know why you weren’t interested in having a spa day with the girls!” You teased as you bit your lower lip.

“Too much gossip about dicks,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he squeezed you tightly.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me talking about my dick of a boyfriend,” you whisper as his eyes shine brilliantly.

“Hah? You’re really gonna fucking--”

Bakugou never got to finish that sentence as your lips pressed against his and his mind went weak as he kissed you back.

You were the undoing of Bakugou Katsuki.

You made him weak, yet he’s never felt stronger.

[scapegrace74-blog]

No Light, No Light (Claire’s Anthem)

A/N  To recap where we’re at in the Metric Universe, Jamie and Claire are living separately while their building gets repaired after a fire.  Jamie has confessed to loving Claire, and she hesitantly agreed to give a romantic relationship between them a chance.  The dates have gone well.  Really well.  Maybe a bit too well...  Rated M, because they deserve it after all I’ve put them through.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The amazing song by Florence + The Machine (another guest artist!) that inspired the title and features in a few lines can be heard here: https://youtu.be/HGH-4jQZRcc

August 24, 2018, Scottish Highlands, Scotland

Outside the train, the landscape slid by in an emerald smear.  It had been raining earlier, but as the sun dipped westward it broke from beneath the clouds, setting the greens afire.  The view was violently beautiful, but Claire stared instead at her face, pensive and wan, reflected in the smudgy window.  There was an almost laughable lack of connection between herself and the taciturn man to her left.

It hadn’t started out that way.  After a near-idyllic summer dedicated to their mutual enjoyment of each other’s company, this trip to Scotland was meant a culmination of sorts.  A validation that they were moving towards something momentous.  A delineation between their past as friends and their future as... something more.   

Jamie had first mentioned the idea in passing while they waited in line for a gelato in the shadow of the Gherkin on a hot July day.

“T’would be braw tae introduce ye to Lallybroch before ye return tae yer studies, Sassenach,” had been his exact words.  Claire had learned to appreciate Jamie’s deft navigation of the shoals of her caution.  An invitation to meet his family would have garnered an immediate negative response, but an invitation to his family home received an ambiguous hum.

Several weeks later, they were searching Netflix for a movie they could agree on while cat-sitting for Joe and Gayle.  Said cat was lounging on the sofa cushions between them when Jamie casually raised the ante.

“Tomorrow I’ll be buyin’ my ticket home for the August bank holiday.  The trains north will be packed, so I was thinkin’ I’d grab a second seat.  Just in case, ye ken.  T'is refundable, sae there’s no harm.”

By the end of the evening, the cat had fled the room, Claire’s shirt was down to its last button, Jamie’s summer tan couldn’t mask the flush of blood that raced beneath his skin, and the idea of spending a weekend away together sat like an unopened present on the closet shelf of their minds.

Last Monday, between her day shift and his graveyard, they had met for coffee to discuss the details of moving back into their flat.

“Jamie, my name is on this lease.”  Claire set down her cup rather abruptly on the table, spilling a few hot drops over her fingers.

“Aye, tis.  I asked the landlord tae include us both.  Considering all the delays an’ the nuisance, tis the least they could do.”  Pausing to hand her a napkin, he balanced his fingertips over her scalded knuckles.  It’s yer flat too, Sassenach.  No matter what.”

The gravity of the moment hung heavy in the air.  Neither spoke for a while, letting the hum of ambient conversation dull the edges of their nerves.  Claire slid an unsigned copy of the lease into her satchel.

“I, uh, I ken this mayna be the best time tae be bringing this up, but I’ll be away home come Thursday, back on Monday.  There’s still a ticket in yer name, should ye wish tae come wi’ me.”

She looked at him then, so earnest and open and hopeful, the sunlight from the street burnishing his hair coppery-gold.  He’d crept in like a thief, disturbing the tidy boxes of her life and leaving traces of his passage on her heart.  A thief who gave instead of took, and whose only crime was to love without recompense.

“What would it mean, if I went to Scotland with you?” she asked quietly.

“It would mean everything to me,” he admitted.

That hadn’t been what she was asking, but it was her answer all the same.

The day before they were due to depart, Claire had been eating a late afternoon snack in the hospital cafeteria when a familiar tall form in running gear caught her eye.  She couldn’t suppress the frisson of delight she felt as he made his way towards her table, a whiplash of appreciative female gazes following in his wake.

His infectious smile of greeting faltered and then disappeared as he caught sight of what she was reading.

Oh.

The monthly rental property magazine had been left behind on her table, but she’d be lying to say she was browsing it purely out of idle curiosity.  The weight of seeing her name next to Jamie’s on their new lease had been pressing down on her since Monday.  

On the one hand, it was a tremendous relief - no longer could the outcome of their courtship render her homeless - not that she could imagine Jamie ever being as cruel as Frank.  But it also implied a commitment, a state of permanence between them, that quite frankly scared the shit out of her.  And so she had been perusing her options, not with any serious intent, but because it gave her comfort to know they existed.   Jamie had dropped by unannounced at the worst possible time.

A crowded cafeteria wasn’t the place to start making excuses, so after a stilted exchange about meeting the next day at Euston Station, Jamie departed, a small storm cloud of ire floating above his head.  

By the time they met the following morning, that cloud had darkened to a gale, blowing all hope of casual conversation before it.  Jamie’s disposition was generally sanguine, but when he put his mind to it he could glower like the Viking gods he resembled.  It made for a silent journey.

“Ye can just go ahead and say it, Claire.”  When it came, his voice was diminished by resignation.

“I’m curious what it is you want me to say,” she replied.

“That ye willna be moving back inta the flat next month.  If that means we willna be seeing each other at all, well, I’d rather ye tell me before I go introducing ye tae my family as my girlfriend like a fool.”

When she turned to face this accusation, the first thing she noticed was the absence of light behind his typically radiant blue eyes.  It neutralized the acid on her tongue.

“Those are awfully dire conclusions to be drawing from some rental adverts, my lad,” she quipped.  Then, almost begging.  “You promised to be patient with me.”

“Aye, I did.  But ye also promised tae try, Claire.  I canna help but feel that ye’re just marking time, waiting for me to fuck up badly enough that ye can say, well, that’s that then, another disappointment, and retreat tae yer solitude.”

It wasn’t far from the truth, although she’d never have stated it so baldly.  As with every emotional conversation she had with Jamie, his words left her feeling naked and exposed.  He saw her so well.  She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his love for her, because what else kept a man coming back once all the ugliness was on display?

“I hear what you’re saying, Jamie.  I think you know this isn’t easy for me.  Just being here with you on this train, Christ.  I almost called you twice this morning to say I wouldn’t be coming.”

“But ye didna.  Why?”

“Because the only thing that scares me more than being with you,” her voice rose in pitch, “is being without you.  I’m here, but it’s taking bloody everything I have.  So please do not ask me for more,” she pleaded.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and she came to nestle against him willingly.

“I would never ask ye for that, a ghraidh.  I only want ye tae learn tae let go of yer fear, as it serves for nought.  I learned that the hard way with my accident.  T’wasn’t anything I earned nor deserved, but it happened nonetheless.  We canna chose if we win or lose.  We can only chose how we fight.”

She listened to his heart, steadily thumping beneath the muscles of his chest.  To think, he could have been taken away before she came to know the dimensions of its strength.  It sent a chill down her spine.

“I ne’er told ye, that first night we met a’ the pub, how ye reminded me of a fierce lioness.  All golden eyed and imperious.  An’ when I saw those same eyes, peering at me o’er a surgical mask the night of the blast, I understood I would live, because ye did.  Ye’re a fighter, Sassenach.  I kent it from the start.”

“God, Jamie, I was an utter shambles at the time,” she confessed.  His faith in her was overwhelming.

“Aye.  But ye were goin’ down swinging.”

***

Ian Murray, Jamie’s best friend and brother-in-law, met them at the train station in Inverness.  As they navigated the country roads, his conversation with Jamie had the ease and teasing short-hand of timeworn friendship. Claire was content to sit quietly and listen, the inconclusive discussion on the train looming large in her peripheral vision.

It was well past dark as they arrived at Lallybroch, giving the structure an air of timelessness as yellow light bathed the courtyard from windows high above.  The battered wooden entrance swung open to the welcoming chaos of barking dogs, children’s laughter and lilting Gaelic voices spilling into the night.  

Claire hung back, pretending to help Ian with their bags as Jamie jogged forward to embrace a dark-haired woman who barely reached his shoulders, lifting a giggling toddler from her hip and high into the air.  The dogs spun around his legs, practically tripping him as he tried to climb the stairs and answer his sister’s rapid fire questions all at once.  Halting before the door, he handed his nephew over before Jenny disappeared inside, the dogs at her heels.

Feeling absurdly nervous, Claire mounted the stairs and accepted his outstretched hand.

“So, this is it?” she asked inanely.

“Aye, this is it.  Welcome to my home, Sassenach.”

***

They’d eaten on the train, so after a hasty introduction to the rest of the family and a promise to become better acquainted over breakfast, Jamie and Claire headed upstairs.  It occurred to her on the second landing that she had no idea where he expected her to sleep.   Their status as temporary lodgers in other people’s homes back in London had made the question moot.  

Visceral memories of their increasingly heated goodnight kisses caused Claire to trip on braided rug.  Jamie turned as she was righting herself.

“Aye, well, here we are.  The lavatory is jest across the hall.  If ye need anything, the laird’s room is up these stairs.”

“The laird’s room?  Wait, who’s the laird in this story?” she was momentarily distracted from her agitation by this unforeseen detail. 

“Well, me.  But dinna get any grand illusions.  Tis only a leftover title from when Clan Fraser ruled o’er these parts before the Rising.”

Her mouth was moving before she fully considered her next words.

“And does that make me your lady?”

Instead of laughing off her glib comment as she hoped he would, Jamie’s face grew somber.

“Nah.  Tha’ position is presently unfilled.  In this house, the laird sleeps next tae his lady, always.  G’night tae ye, Sassenach.”  And with a soft kiss that barely ghosted her lips, Jamie retired to bed.  Alone.

***

The next two days were a glimpse into a way of living whose existence Claire had previously discredited.  Communal mealtimes, where each family member had an assigned role, from buttering the bread (Jamie’s three-year old nephew and namesake) to clearing the table (Ian, and by their second meal, Claire).  Morning and evening chores that left the adults drowsy and smelling slightly of the chicken coop.  Siblings bickering, slamming doors and then laughing about it by suppertime.  Outings to local landmarks in the rain, a cheerful row of matching Wellingtons and wax cotton jackets tramping along well-worn paths.  Visits to neighbours, carrying a Pyrex dish of some culinary offering and returning four hours later, stuffed to the gills and carrying a different Pyrex dish loaded with leftovers.

Seeing Jamie take his place at the centre of this family dynamic was a shock.  She’d only ever known him in an urban setting, where he was one man among millions; noteworthy for his decency, his peculiar fondness for blood pudding, and because he was hers.  At Lallybroch, he grew before her eyes, taking on new dimensions that challenged and teased her understanding of him.

This was his concept of home.

This was his template for love.

***

On Sunday afternoon, the clouds had lifted to reveal a robin’s egg sky.  Claire accompanied Ian on a circuit of the upper pasture.  A border collie named Jem bounded down the hill ahead of them.  Ian was an easy companion, and they were mid-conversation about the impact of the Scots in the history of medicine when Claire pulled up short, words evaporating in her throat.

There in the hay field just below stood Jamie.  Long rows of golden sheaves that had been cut the past week were now drying in the late summer sun.  Armed with nothing but a pitchfork, Jamie had obviously been working for some time.  He wore boots and loose trousers, but his shirt was long abandoned.  Sweat glistened in the fine russet curls that covered his breastbone and over the sun-kissed curves of his shoulders.  He was so beautiful, it hurt to breathe.

“He’s himself again,” Ian remarked.  “It lightens my heart tae see it.”

Claire tore her eyes away from Jamie.  Ian was watching her with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“Well, he obviously loves being here, with his family...” she dodged.

Ian shook his head.

“Nah, t’isn’t that.  Since his accident, he’s been... altered.  Jamie was always the golden one, ye ken?  Smart, strong, funny, kind.  He wore it well, but it gives ye a sense of... invincibility, maybe?  Tha’ blast ripped apart more than his back.  I think it made him doubt who he is on the inside.  Ye’ve helped him find tha’ man again, Claire, and for that we are in yer debt.”

She couldn’t look at Ian then, for fear that he would see just how much she wanted what he was saying to be the truth.  To be essential to someone who meant so much to her, to be enough purely by being herself, it was more than her feelings could contain.

It was what Jamie had been trying to tell her all along.

***

The third stair between the guest room and the laird’s bedroom creaked, and Claire froze, eyes darting guiltily down the corridor to where Ian, Jenny and their children slept.   Nothing stirred beyond the drumming of her heartbeat, so she crept the rest of the way, tapping quietly on the solid wood door.

Jamie’s voice was alert as he beckoned, “Come in, Jenny.”  She clutched a thin sheaf of papers to her chest and entered the room.  The only illumination came from the hearth, where a low fire still blazed.  It cast its light on a large, masculine room, with deep blue wallpaper, heavy damask drapes and an immense four poster bed.  Jamie sat up against the headboard, the glow from his iPad echoing in his downcast eyes.

“It’s not Jenny.  It’s me,” she whispered.

With a visible flinch, the iPad fell to his lap.

“Claire...”

He stretched her name out like honey from a jar, trickling sweetly from his mouth.

She wanted to run.  From this plush room, this welcoming home, this uninvited sanctuary of tenderness.  Her legs quivered with the impulse.  Instead, she plunged forward into the room, right to the edge of the bed, and thrust her offering towards Jamie, who followed her movements as though she was defusing a bomb.

“Whas’ this then?” he asked, peering down at the document.

“It’s our lease.  I signed it.  And faxed a copy to the landlord.”

There, she had done it.  The pebble that would start the landslide.  There was no turning back now, and it was pure relief.

Jamie was silent for so long, staring down at her signature, that she began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep.  When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy.

“Are ye sure, Sassenach?”

A drunken encounter in a pub.  Agony radiating from his bright blue eyes on a hospital gurney.  Her rain-soaked salvation.  A roommate.  A friend.  His steady patience as they tentatively grew closer. And now something more, something bigger than she knew how to articulate, sneaking around the margins of her fear.  

She wasn’t sure of much, but she was certain that Jamie’s love could never hurt.  The rest, the panic that she could lose him or disappoint him, that was just the price of paradise.

Instead of answering the question directly, she walked around to the opposite side of the bed and gestured to the empty mattress beside Jamie’s long body.

“Is this place still vacant?”

His smile was radiant.

“For ye, Sassenach, always.”

***

It was like no other sex she’d ever experienced.  Intimacy, up until then, had been a transaction, an exchange of debits.  This was a cancellation of accounts, an obliteration of any mutual debt.  They loved each other with the pure, mindless joy of a wave meeting the shore.

Which isn’t to say that it was perfect.  It felt strange to touch Jamie in more than a friendly way.   Not at all unpleasant, but strange.  Like going to the theatre to see a well-loved play, and suddenly being thrust onto the stage.  The hesitance behind Jamie’s touch told her he felt something similar.  

In a particularly awkward moment, they were jostling and bumping to remove each other’s pajamas when her hair got caught in the buckle of his watch.

“Ouch!” she yelped.  He pulled away, stammering apologies, which only made things worse.  After a few failed attempts on Jamie’s part, she reached up and unclasped the watch band, giving him two hands to work with.  By this point they were both giggling, the gravitas of the moment lost.

“Ye’ve a great deal of hair, mo nighean donn,” Jamie groused as he lay the offending watch on his nightstand.

“Complaining already, Fraser?”

“God, no. Ye’re... would it be sentimental tae say ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?”

She was lying naked, but for a pair of skimpy knickers, the firelight caressing her limbs where they were splayed against the dark sheets.  Jamie’s visual perusal of her body held a potent combination of lust and reverence that warmed her blood.

“I suppose I can tolerate a bit of sentimentality,” she conceded, rolling towards the bulwark of his naked chest.  Her fingers played down the corduroy ripples of his flank.

“You’re beautiful too, Jamie.”

The mood in the room shifted again.  Soon they pitching across the mattress, trying to touch in as many ways possible.  Their skin grew slippery with sweat.  At some point, underwear must have been removed, because she could feel the coarse abrasion of his pubic hair against her thigh, alongside the tensile ridge of his erection.

“Claire,” he gasped as their hips ground together in frenzied pulses. “If ye dinna want me tae go any further, I need ye tae tell me now.”

She reached between them, taking the heft of him in her palm, feeling a spasm of need shudder through his frame.

“There’s nothing about you that I do not want, James Fraser.”

A cavernous groan, a frantic search for a condom in the bedside drawer, the tearing of a foil wrapper, and then a breathless hesitation.  She opened her eyes to see Jamie looking down as though she was the morning sun.  There was nothing left inside her but dazzling hunger, filling the spaces where her fear once resided.

Here was the start.

[miss-noo-na]

Protected (Wonho fluff/smut)

Title: Protected

Featuring: Wonho (Monsta x) x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: You’ve acquired a stoic bodyguard who is cramping your style, but you may be able to get him to open up.

Note: I’m sorry this took longer than expected! Between the flu and the global pandemic I’ve been a little stressed, to say the least. This was a commission, and you can get your own commission from me if you’d like! Check my sidebar for more info under “requests”

You sat at the vanity putting the final touches to your lips, eyes concentrating on the rogue you applied with a brush but drifting now and then to the space behind you. In the mirror you could see Wonho by the door, diligent as ever.

When your father had first proposed the idea of giving you a personal bodyguard you laughed, convinced he was joking, but his stern tone said otherwise. Your father was an important business man, whose money funneled directly into politics, and thus made him a saint of some and an enemy of others. You were often regarded as nothing more than a socialite, an heiress to his fortune. You weren’t the typical fundie kid, though, you preferred your privacy.

It didn’t keep you from being a target of scrutiny, but you hardly thought that warranted your own secret service. It was an election year and your father was rubbing elbows with the elites, which he said was the perfect time to “acquire” someone for you.

You had expected someone from the movies, a big bald guy in sunglasses with a sneer, not the babyfaced boy who showed up. You almost laughed when you saw him, until he stood up and you took in his stature and the apparent strength hidden under his suit.

He was quiet, for the most part, concentrating on his task. You had tried to talk to him, it was a nervous habit of yours to speak out loud to whoever was in the room, but he never said much back. It had been months now and you had barely learned a thing about him, but he apparently knew enough about you.

“You can relax, Brutus,” You joked as you waited for him to look at you, and he did. He peered over at you through the glass and you smiled, but he simply turned back to looking ahead.

You were in NYC for the duration of the summer, attending events with your father. You could have stayed home or gone somewhere else, you were an adult of course, but he insisted you come along because it “looked good” to have a family in toe at these things. You hated it, it meant being cooped up in hotel rooms and only going to places he designated.

You dropped your brush and stood up, smoothing your hands down your skirt to flatten any wrinkles.”How do I look?” You asked, turning toward him. He only glanced at you.

“Fine.”

“Gee, you sure know how to compliment a girl.”

You snatched up your purse, indicating you were ready to go, and Wonho led you out into the hall and down into the lobby for your ride. You were having brunch with your father before his afternoon meetings.

He accompanied you to the restaurant in the back of the limo, and when you entered the building he remained near the front. You went ahead without him, meeting your father on the patio and ordering a mimosa as you sat.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early, dear.” Your father said without looking up from his menu.

“This drink is the only fun I’m going to be having here.”

“That’s nonsense, the gala is coming up.”

You sighed, because he didn’t get it. You wanted to go galavanting, to explore, to hang out in the village or walk the Brooklyn bridge, something other than the boring events you had been dragged to your entire life.

“Where is Mr. Lee?” He asked then, and it took a moment to register.

“Oh, by the door I think. Hey, you couldn’t hire someone less uptight?” You asked, sipping from your flute.

“Uptight? He’s a bodyguard, not your friend.” Your father responded with an annoyed look. He never cared much for your free-wheeling attitude and had tried in vain for many years to set you on the straight and narrow.

“I’m just saying, if he has to be around me all the time, he could at least be a little more talkative.”

Your father sighed. “Just pretend he isn’t there.”

The rest of brunch went about as expected, your father going on and on about campaigns and business jargon you didn’t care about, and you pretending to be interested. Every now and then he’d make a fussy remark about where you were going in life and you would say something sarcastic and he would move on. You loved your father, but you didn’t love being under his thumb all the time.

“I want you to go straight back to the hotel.” He insisted as he pulled out his credit card to pay once you were finished.

“What was the point of bringing me here if I wasn’t going to have any fun?”

“I told you, you’ll have fun a-”

“At the gala, got it.” You huffed as you both stood, giving him a peck on the cheek before you made your way back into the restaurant. You could see Wonho just outside the front of the entrance and paused in your steps, glancing back at where your father was and to the front once more. A devious thought came over you as you eyed the exit near the bar, and changed the trajectory of your steps without seeming suspicious.

You exited out onto the sidewalk and smiled triumphantly, thwarting both your father and your bodyguard. You walked down the sidewalk with a hop in your step, wondering where you would spend the rest of the afternoon, pulling out your phone to see what was around. As you walked toward a main street, you were engulfed at the list of shops on your device and didn’t see the hand reaching up from behind you.

You gasped as someone grasped you by the arm, making you drop your phone, and you swung yourself around ready to fight a would-be mugger, only to see it was Wonho, who did not look happy.

You forcibly removed your arm from his grasp and glared at him. “Thanks, asshole.” You said as you knelt down to pick up your phone, wiping it of debris and relieved it wasn’t cracked.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a loud, firm tone that reminded you way too much of your father.

“Wherever the hell I want to.”

“Not according to your father and my direct orders.”

You sighed and let your eyes roll toward the sky. “You do know I’m an adult, right?”

“Do you think I want to chase after you? I’m just doing my job.”

You could feel frustration welling up inside you, pressing to the brim of what you had been dealing with lately under the stress of the year. Wonho’s face relaxed as he looked at you, noticing that you were tearing up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

You waved a hand and tried to look away. “It’s not you. I’m sorry I’m being a handful, I just-” You let out a heaved breath as you tried to catch a stray tear with your fingertips.

Wonho hung there awkwardly, glancing around to make sure there were no on-lookers. He glanced down the street and spotted a coffee shop on the corner.

“Come on,” He nudged your elbow gently and gestured with his head to follow him.

A few minutes later you sat by the window staring into a cappuccino with a swirly design in the foam. He drank something black and iced, sitting opposite you in a strangely comforting silence, save for the busy sounds of the cafe.

“He doesn’t seem to get that I’m a fully formed person, he just sees me as this weird accessory he can take around to parties.”

Wonho nodded sagely, watching you in a way that made it feel like he was really listening, something you weren’t accustomed to.

“I used to have a little more freedom, but the more his life changes the more he tries to change mine and I hate it.”

“I can’t say I understand,” He paused to sip his drink. “But I can see how it would be frustrating. Have you tried talking to him?”

You sighed and let out a humorless chuckle. “Doesn’t matter, it’s all in one ear and out the other with him, unless it's about money.”

“I feel a bit weird giving you advice on this since he’s the one that hired me to do what you don’t want me to do.” Wonho laughed and you were surprised at how different his face looked when he smiled. For someone so intimidating on the outside, there was a softness in the way he spoke.

“I don’t blame you, I get that it's your job. Also, I’ve never heard you speak this much.”

“I try to keep some distance from clients.”

“You’re not doing a very good job.” You smiled at him and he laughed back, eyes creasing as they locked with yours and you felt a twitch in your chest.

“We should go back to the hotel,” You said solemnly. And Wonho was quiet for a moment.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you wanted to look around for a little bit.” He said, faintly almost as if to himself.

“What? Really?” You asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah I mean, I’ll be with you, so you’ll be perfectly safe.” He shrugged.

It was risky, but you were going to do it anyway, so what better time than with him accompanying you? You finished your drinks and made your way toward the shops you had spotted before. Though he still kept his distance, he walked a little closer than before, taking in the surroundings of each store and trailing you as you browsed around. Every now and then you spoke to him, showing him something silly you found or making comments, and to your surprise he actually answered this time, and you were delighted at being able to draw a chuckle out of him now and again. The longer you explored, the closer he got and the more you chatted, until it felt like you were just two friends on a lunch date.

“I’m not much for earrings,” You told the sales woman at a shop, leaning over the jewelry counter as she tried to hard-sell you on some items.

“Ah, but these would look precious on you, just ask your boyfriend,” the woman smiled and gestured to Wonho, who hadn’t been paying attention and looked up at the mention of “boyfriend”.

“Oh, I’m not-” He started to say, but you interrupted him.

“What, you wouldn’t like me in these, sweetie?” You asked him, holding the earrings up to your ears and smiling innocently. You saw a blush creep across his cheeks.

“They’re...fine.” He said as he swallowed. You were surprised at how easy it was to work him up, but now that you knew you decided to have fun with it.

You placed the earnings down before reaching out and locking your arm around his, pulling him over to the counter and hugging into his side. “What do you like?”

He looked down at you trying to convey his serious business face, but he looked embarrassed instead.

“Silver is nice.” He offered with a shrug.

You peered down into the case and scanned the trinkets until you laid eyes on a silver locket.

“That one.”

The woman produced the locket from the case, a heavy heart with intricate details that you quite liked. You lifted the locket in your hands and turned to Wonho.

“Help me put it on,” You smiled, handing it over to him and pushing your hair up as you turned around. You could tell he was fumbling, but eventually he got it around your neck and closed the clasp. You did a twirl back in his direction.

“How does it look?” You asked, looking down at how it fell perfectly on your chest. When you looked up, Wonho was staring at it intently, cheeks still warm.

“It's really nice.” He said with a nod, and you noted the sincerity in his voice which made a funny tingle sweep up your neck and ears hearing it.

“Great,” You said, turning back toward the woman, “I’ll take it.”

You paid and wore the necklace out of the store, and noticed Wonho dragging behind. You stopped and reached out to playfully poke his arm.

“I didn’t make you too uncomfortable, did I?”

“Only a little.” He half-smiled. “I’m just worried about someone seeing us.”

“Who could possibly see us?” You said.

“You never know, I can only imagine how your father would react.”

“Well he’s not here, and let's keep it that way.” You said, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone just by the mention of him. Wonho seemed to notice and the subject was dropped as you carried on for the rest of the afternoon, staying out later than either of you intended, but you were actually having fun for the first time in ages and you didn’t want it to end.

“It’s almost dinner time.” You mentioned, glancing at the time on your phone.

“Are you meeting with your father?” Wonho asked, gauging what to do next.

“Was supposed to, thinking of just telling him I’m staying in.” You grumbled, not in the mood to eat with his boring lawyer friends and get condescended to.

“Hey, why don’t we just grab some food and you come up to my room and watch a movie with me.” You said then, knowing it was a bit of a bold statement, but you were tired of being alone all the time, and if he had to be around you, you might as well make it fun.

“I’m not supposed to be in your room after 6pm.” Wonho said with a surprised look on his face, and you wanted to laugh.

“Who is gonna know? We’re not doing anything wrong, I just want someone to hang out with and you’re surprisingly fun when you’re not being the terminator.”

“Gee, thanks,” He responded, but was humored by it, and took a moment to consider your offer.

“One movie, that’s it.”

You happily texted your father to let him know you were tired and you’d be ordering room service tonight, and he let it go without a thought, assuring you Wonho would be nearby if you needed anything. He just didn’t know exactly how close by he really was.

You acquired your take out and a few snacks for the road and headed upstairs. The suite had a living room set up which made it perfect for having company. Wonho made sure he stayed as far to one side of the couch as possible, commenting that it would be unseemly if he got too close. You admired his diligence to his job and his dedication to being a gentleman.

Once the action flick you selected had started and you were consumed in your feast, he seemed to ease up, relaxing and becoming more talkative. You found you shared a similar sense of humor and you liked making him laugh, it was pleasant to your ears, and you couldn’t fight the warm feeling in your chest that stirred up from your stomach the more he opened up.

“You’re actually pretty funny, I’m surprised.” You teased him after the movie had ended, and he feigned offense.

“Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I do have a life and a personality outside of this job.” He assured you.

“Oh? Wife and kids? boyfriend? Cat?” You asked, placing your chin on your fist.

“None of the above,”

“Not even a friend with benefits?”

Wonho turned red in response. “My work doesn’t really allow for th- I mean I can’t really-” He fumbled over his words.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, I get it.”  You nodded, “Sounds lonely, though.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’d know about that.” He said faintly, then his eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean that to come off rude, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I’ve been locked inside a lot of ivory towers in my day.”

“You’re an adult, why don’t you just leave?” He asked honestly.

“He would find a way to make my life hell, in the name of it being “for my own good,” You did air-quotes. “Truthfully, I want to start college next year, and I can’t afford it without him, so I’m playing as nice as I can now so I can book it out of here as soon as possible.”

“I don’t fault you for that.”

“Thanks, sometimes I feel like a spoiled brat and tell myself to just shut up and stop complaining, but it doesn’t help the way I feel.”

“No one wants to be lonely.”

There was silence and you both stared at nothing, letting it sink in. You were more alike than you had thought.

“I should be going,” He stood then, and you saw him to the door.

“Thanks for putting up with me today.” You said, referring to the entire time you’d had from brunch til now. “You’re not getting paid to hang out with me, but I’m glad you did anyway.”

“Believe it or not, I had fun, too.” He smiled before he pulled the door open, telling you goodnight before making sure the coast was clear and leaving for his room.

Once he was gone and you were left to the empty suite, you felt a strange mix of emotions. Elated at having had such a wonderful time with him, but a little sad he was gone and maybe a little silly for feeling that way, too. You couldn’t deny there was something developing, some nagging little feelings in the pit of your stomach, but it wouldn’t be wise to let them grow.

You figured it might go back to business as usual after that, and for the most part around others it did, but when you were alone you could chat like good friends, joke around, and overall make the situation better for the both of you. You didn’t feel as stifled around him now, and he was more lenient when the timing called for it, allowing you to stop for coffee or check out a nearby store between meetings and luncheons with your father.

It was also to your surprise that he didn’t stop coming to your room to watch TV and hang out, sometimes you would get to talking and the next thing you knew it was 3AM, and he would have to be careful lest someone notice him and think something unsavory was going on. It never was, though. He was always kind and friendly and though many men could have taken advantage of the situation, he didn’t, even though sometimes you wished he would.

There was no denying your full-blown crush on him now, and sometimes you wondered if it was because he was the only man around your age you got to be in contact with. But when you saw that smile and learned more and more about him, you realized you were doomed either way.

The night of the gala came and though you liked getting dressed up, you knew you were in for a snoozefest. Wonho would be there, but he would be delegated to the sidelines to do his job. You wished you were back in the hotel, watching a movie together and hearing him laugh.

“Dear, this is Steven.” Your father interrupted your thoughts to introduce you to yet another partner’s son. They were all the same, recently graduated, “working their way up”, and interested in getting to know you. You couldn’t care less.

But you smiled and shook his hand like all the others and when your father left the two of you alone, you silently prayed he would get bored quickly and leave.

“Your father is a great man.”

They always thought kissing up to you about your dad was a great strategy, but truly it wasn’t. You could spot an ass-kissing from a mile away.

“I suppose so.”

“I’m headed over to the bar, do you need anything?”

“A gin and tonic.” You said, as you might as well get something out of this exchange.

You turned and made eye contact with Wonho across the room and mimic’d hanging yourself, which made him laugh but he quickly pulled his lips together to try and suppress it, shaking his head at you.

Steven returned with your drink and you thanked him, and then he started to talk. This was always the spiel portion of the exchange, where he rambled on about his dad’s company or place in politics and thought it would impress you.

“I never knew he had a daughter.” He said, coming back to the subject of your father.

“Papa doesn’t let me out of the attic often.” You nodded as you sipped your drink. Steven stared at you and seemed to fight to find his words.

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh, of course. Funny, too, the whole package.”

The way he smiled at you made your skin crawl and you were getting some decidedly “off” vibes from this dude, and it didn’t seem he would be leaving anytime soon. He started to follow you around the gala, chatting incessantly, and you tried your best to give little in response, without being rude. As uncomfortable as this was, you would never hear the end of it from your father if you blew this guy off.

“I need to make a trip to the facilities.” You interrupted him, downing the rest of your drink before hurrying away to the bathroom. You mostly stood in front of the mirror, re-applying lipstick and checking your phone, trying to give it enough time for Steven to give up and find someone else to bother. When you exited, you hadn’t expected him to be there in the hall.

“Just making sure you made it back okay.” He grinned.

“Yep, I’m fine.” You said attempting to move past him, but you were surprised when he positioned himself to stop you.

“Hey, I know these parties are a drag, trust me my dad insists I come to them all the time. We could always go somewhere else?”

You didn’t like the way he leaned into you, his breath hot and heavy with alcohol.

“I should probably stay.” You said, trying to slowly wedge yourself on his side to slip away. He was more bold this time as he closed the gap, his body almost against yours.

“Aw c’mon, there are definitely some more exciting places we could go.” He drawled, one hand raising so he could caress your bare arm from the shoulder down. A cringe went through you to the bone and you stepped back, scowling, ready to tear him a new one, but before you could even open your mouth there was a voice from down the hall.

“Everything okay over here?”

You looked over Steven’s shoulder and saw Wonho, and instantly felt relief. Steven glanced over his shoulder but he was still blocking your path.

“We’re fine, buddy.” He called out to the unknown source, but when he got closer Steven could see how much bigger he was than him and straightened up. This gave you the opportunity to slide past him and over to Wonho.

“Are you okay?” Wonho leaned in and said quietly, and you gently shook your head. Wonho looked up and glared at Steven, just as he circled your waist and laid a protective hand on your lower back, steering you away.

“Listen, we were just fine until-”

“Until what?” Wonho asked, inviting him to dare come up with an excuse as to why he was stalking a girl into a dark hallway. This wasn’t an invitation for him to continue, but a warning from Wonho to keep quiet.

“Nothing, man.” Steven mumbled and shambled past the both of you, saying something under his breath as he scurried off.

“Thank God, that dude was giving me the creeps.” You shuddered.

“Did he touch you?” Wonho asked, looking down at you, and only then did you really realize he was still holding you, but you felt warm and safe so you didn’t move out of it.

“He got a creepy little feel on my arm, but you could tell he wanted to do more than that.”

You were surprised at the look on his face with your words. Of course he would be concerned, it was his job, but it almost seemed like he was taking it personally.

Just then, he too realized where his hand was and quickly dropped it away, taking a step back. “Would you like to go back to the party?”

“Actually I’m going to tell my father I’m headed back to the hotel, I’ve had enough for one night.”

Wonho nodded, following you out of the hall and waiting as you said goodbye, turning down invitations to stay longer. Back at the hotel, you wondered if it was too late to have a night in.

“You wanna watch a movie?”

Wonho looked at his watch, “It’s a little late.”

“And everyone is at the gala, but if you’re too tired…”

“No, I’m fine, let me go change.”

You felt an excited flip in your stomach, agreeing to see him in a few minutes and going to remove your dress and makeup to change into something more comfortable. You really felt at ease around Wonho, no matter how you looked or what you were doing.

He returned dressed down as well, and you popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave as he perused the movie channels, settling on a recent comedy.

Once the two of you were settled in, and halfway through the mostly boring flick, you wanted to mention something to him.

“Thanks for earlier, I really appreciated it.”

“Just doing my job” He shrugged, “I noticed you were gone after talking to that guy. I didn’t want to assume anything, but you didn’t seem like you were having the greatest time talking to him.”

“Your instinct would be correct, I don’t enjoy talking to any of the guys at those events.” You explained.

“Not your type, I guess?”

You laughed, “Not at all. You really think I would want to date some stuffy politician or daddys boy? I could never.”

“Yeah, I can’t see you going after that, either.” He chuckled at the mere thought. “Who do you usually go for?”

You were taken aback by the question, not expecting him to really care. The way he waited for your response made you nervous in an excited way, maybe he asked because he was interested?

“Smart, strong, kind.” You listed, not at all unaware that these were the exact words you would use to describe him.

“I can’t imagine it's easy to date with how things are.”

“I could say the same for you.”

He had always been hushhush about those things. Even on your late night talks, he had talked about everything from his childhood to his work, but he never mentioned anything about current, past, or potential partners.

“I bet you’d be a real protective boyfriend,” You smiled. “That’s why you take these kinds of jobs, it's not just work, you really care about your clients. I mean, at least that's what it seems like.”

“No, you’re right.” He nodded, and the sincerity in his voice struck you. “I have to admit when I first got assigned to you, I thought you were just some pain in the ass rich girl.”

“Thanks,” You laughed.

“I don’t mean that now! You definitely proved me wrong.”

You looked at each other for a moment too long and had to turn away when the heat building up in your face was too much.

“I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other, but I kind of regret it, too.” He said honestly.

“Why is that?”

“Ah, I shouldn’t say.”

He avoided eye contact now, too. You could almost say he looked bashful. “I already said too much.”

You found yourself scooting across the couch closer to him. “Tell me.”

He glanced up at you and his smile fell away from his face as he swallowed, taking a second to really consider whether or not he should say it.

“I’ve just gotten a little more protective over you, that’s all. Maybe more than I would over just a client I’m getting paid to watch over.”

You weren’t sure what he was saying, but you had an idea. The prospect excited you, but you didn’t want to think too much into it, so you waited for him to say more.

“I care about you.”

He said it so quiet it was almost a whisper, and his eyes darted around the room again.

“Like, as a friend?” You asked, silently begging for clarification before you made a fool of yourself.

“As a friend and also more than a friend.”

Now all your insides were up in knots, anticipating this moment but also unsure of what to do next.

“I kind of thought you were just a big dumb jock when you came here, but I was also wrong.” You offered, before continuing, “And I care about you a lot, too.”

Wonho looked relieved at your response, his body relaxing as he let out a breath. Yet, there was silence now, as your confessions hung in the air not knowing where to go with it.

You thought you were going to have to be the brave one, but Wonho beat you to it, reaching out to stroke the side of your face. You leaned into it, rubbing your cheek into his palm, comparing it for a moment to how it felt to be touched earlier in the night by Steven and how it contrasted with Wonho now. In fact, it had been a long time since you’d been touched affectionately at all, always alone in your hotel rooms, and you felt the warmth from his skin expand throughout your body, inside and out.

He pulled you toward him, gentle and firm at the same time, bringing his mouth down on yours. Your eyes drifted shut and you came closer to him, your body pressing into his as you surrendered to the feeling.

A need started to build up, you both felt it, all the unspoken tension of being in this room together, so close and so far apart. You wondered for how long he felt this way, if he’d been pining for you like you had for him. The way he deepened your kiss and became hungry for your skin, you believed it had been awhile now.

You were bold when you slinked your way into his lap, and he welcomed you there, one hand on your hip as the other found its way from your face to your hair, gently gripping it and kissing you harder. You held onto his shoulders and loved the way you could wrap yourself around him, unyielding underneath you yet still soft somehow.

He was breathless when he finally came away from your mouth, his eyes alight as he peered up into your face. He kissed you a few more times before they traveled away, down your neck and into the crook of your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his head and cradled him into you, pressing your chest against his.

When his hands started to roam around, pulling and pushing at fabric, you realized things were going fast, but you didn’t want to stop and neither did he. You questioned only for a brief moment if this was too much too soon, but when you felt his hand glide under your shirt against your stomach, you forcefully silenced the nagging voice, knowing you wanted nothing else in the world.

You pressed your hips down on him, feeling him grow hard against you and smiling against his skin when he let out a little groan. You slowly rocked your hips into him as he ravaged your neck in nips and pecks, pausing briefly at your ear.

“Tell me now if you want me to stop, because I don’t want to stop.” He said through a ragged breath.

“Don’t stop,” You cooed, kissing his jawline.

He let out a satisfied hum as his hands went back to work, this time stripping the clothing, getting them off faster than you had ever even gotten them off yourself, and you giggled at his insistence. He kissed the center of your chest once it was bare to him, and you let out a surprised yelp when he leaned forward and stood up, hoisting you with him as he brought you to the bed.

You plopped down ungracefully, your laughter getting lost when he kissed you again, hovering over you. He paused only to strip his shirt off so you matched, and you took in the sight of him. You could tell a lot through clothing, but apparently not everything. You couldn’t help but caress your fingertips down the curves of his arms, shoulders, and finally to his chest. While you took your time admiring and feeling him, he made work of tugging your sweats down.

“You’re really okay with this?” He asked, and you laughed.

“I’m more than okay, obviously.”

“I just want to be sure, because you n-”

You silenced him with a kiss, one hand trailing from his stomach to the hem of his pants. You fidgeted with the waistband before sliding your hand past both layers to circle his length and he let out a strained sound against your mouth. It may have seemed like you were always locked away from the world, but truthfully you had had your fair share of trysts and not much more.

It was different with Wonho, though. This wasn’t a boy at boarding school you were sneaking away with to an empty classroom, or a rich man’s son you had spent the weekend with in Rome only to never see him again. This was someone you had gotten to know, laughed with, shared feelings with, and when he touched you it was more than physical, and a small part of that scared you.

But you tried to abandon the worry and focus on the here and now, particularly enjoying the effect you were having on him, His eyes had fallen shut and he bowed forward into your touch.You let him go so that you could use both hands to push away the last of the barriers between you.

He took a moment to admire you in your underwear, his hands feeling down your thighs before coming back up to bring the silky garment down with it. You thought he might get to it, but instead his fingers moved deftly between your legs, finding your center and caressing through your folds. You mewled when he found the perfect spot and stroked you there, working you up until he was able to slide a finger inside you, curling it up and working you from inside. Your eyes were threatening to drift shut and you couldn’t help the sounds you made, all the while Wonho staring down at you with want, but also making sure you were an absolute mess before he gave in.

When he got you where he wanted you, gripping the sheets and head falling back, he removed his hand to replace it with his cock, pressing your legs open and taking his time sliding inside. You fell flat on the bed before you arched up from your spine just as he settled himself to the hilt, and rested there to get you used to the girth.

Your hands came to his arms for something to hold onto as he drew out and pressed back in, slow and steady, gradually building up into a rhythm. Soon, his thrusts struck the back of your thighs and you almost couldn’t take it, feeling so full and dazed, all the wanting and wondering about him peaking in this moment.

“Don’t stop,” You reiterated,, not wanting him to do anything other than this, not wanting this feeling to end, almost disappointed that you were already almost there. Your nails dug into his biceps and you yelped when one hand found your center again, his thumb pressing into you in the right way to aid in your release.

“Dont-ah. Don’t stop, please.” You begged, clawing his skin.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me.” He growled, pounding into you just a little bit harder to drive the point home. Before you knew it, you were tumbling over your orgasm and it radiated from the top of your head to your toes, arching back and up against his hand, the force almost driving him out of you.  Wonho was prepared, and he bared down on you, pressing himself deep and letting you ride the waves of pleasure against him.

You had barely recovered when he started to move again, now both his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you against him, sweat beading on the side of his brow as he watched your body writhe under his control.

“Please, please, give it to me.” You whined, holding his forearms and meeting his thrusts with your hips. He let out an elated “ah” before he fell forward, pulsing his release inside you, panting and moaning against your neck.

You waited a long while for your heart rates to decline before he peeled himself off you and fell slack next to you, but were surprised when he pulled you into his chest. You were so used to things ending abruptly and being sent on your way, you had never laid in your post-poitus like this, not caring that he was sweaty as he held you tight and kissed your temple.

You found yourself strangely emotional, wanting to bury yourself in his skin somehow. You nuzzled him with your nose and he hummed happily.

“I’ve never done this before.” You said before you clarified, “the cuddling part.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked as he started to draw away, and you hugged him back.

“No, I like it.”

“Good, so do I.”

You laid in a comfortable silence together, held tight in his arms as he occasionally kissed parts of your face, from between your eyes to your nose and finally your lips.

“What do we do now?” You asked, not wanting to open your eyes just yet.

“For now? I’m going to keep looking after you.” He said with a squeeze, and you were content with that.

[whumphoarder]

Beanimia

Summary: While Peter is visiting Tony and Morgan at the lake house for a long weekend, the six-year-old manages to accidentally break his nose. Unfortunately, Spider-Man's super-healing decides to go on holiday the same weekend that he does.

Word count: 3,877

Genre: Fluffy illness/injury, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta-reading and to @awesomesockes for plot, summary, and title ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So”—Tony snaps the single use ice pack to activate the chemicals and gives it a few shakes as he moves back over to the kitchen table—“which one of you is going to explain what happened here?”

Morgan shakes her head gravely side to side. “Peter didn’t catch the beans...”

“Well, to be fair,” Peter points out, his voice significantly more nasally than usual due to the wad of paper towels he’s pressing to his heavily bleeding nose, “you didn’t really warn me you were about to chuck a can of beans at my head.”

“But I did!” the six-year-old defends. “I said, ‘I’ll throw down the supplies.’”

“Supplies for what?” Tony questions. He passes Peter the ice pack, earning a grunt of thanks.

“For the mission,” Morgan explains as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were playing superheroes and we needed to pack the supplies to take with us ‘cus we had to go fight the bad guys in space.”

“She’d been stockpiling stuff for the last couple days in the treehouse,” Peter goes on, “so she was just tossing everything down for me to put in the bag. Which, y’know, was fine for the stuffed animals and the walkie-talkies and the plastic lightsabers”—he gingerly touches the ice to his nose—“just not for a sixteen-ounce can of refried pintos.”

(Tony winces in sympathy.)

Morgan lets out an exasperated exhale. “Well, we had to bring something to eat—it’s a long way to Pluto.”  

Huffing out a laugh, Tony shakes his head slowly. “I guess it’s hardly Peter’s first experience getting injured before a mission officially even begins...” he muses. He grins at the teenager. “Remember when you tripped off the quinjet ramp and sprained your ankle two minutes after we landed?”

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “That was one time, Mr. Stark.”

“Memorable though,” Tony quips. He gestures to the kid’s messy face and sighs. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Reluctantly, Peter pulls the paper towels away and fresh blood starts to trickle down. There’s a cut at the bridge of his nose and it’s rapidly swelling, a dark bruise already starting to form under his eye.

Tony prods carefully at the break, making Peter wince. “Well, it’s definitely broken,” he reports after a moment, “but it seems pretty well-aligned at least. Nothing to reset.”

Peter lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Probably because it was already a little crooked from the last time I broke it. Guess she knocked it back.”

“So… I made it better?” Morgan asks hopefully.

Tony turns in his daughter’s direction. “Oh no, don’t you start thinking you’re off the hook here, Little Miss Budding Plastic Surgeon,” he says, holding up a stern finger. “You still need to be more careful where you’re chucking your beans.”

Peter snorts, then instantly seems to regret that as he groans and adjusts the ice pack on his face.

Morgan’s expression sobers and she drops her gaze down to her feet. “I just thought he would catch it. He always catches stuff when I throw it to him…”

Her comment gives Tony pause. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not the first time since Peter arrived at the lake house for their long weekend that the kid has seemed rather sluggish and off his game. He’d dozed through most of the drive over on Friday afternoon and then slept in until almost noon the next day. Even now, he can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the pallor to his cheeks that can’t be completely explained by his current blood loss.

“It’s okay, Mo,” Peter reassures her with a small smile. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’ll be all better by morning, okay?”

Morgan perks up at that, so Tony pushes aside the twinge of worry in his gut. After all, Peter’s been taking seventeen credit hours at MIT this semester, not to mention his Boston vigilante activities and the additional part-time lab assistant gig he’s picked up; that’s enough to make anyone run a little ragged.

“Why don’t you two just watch a movie or something?” Tony suggests. “Give Peter’s nose a little time to sort itself out.”

Morgan and Peter agree, so Tony rustles up some of Peter’s super-strength painkillers and sets the kids up in the living room with some weird movie that Morgan inexplicably loves about a talking parrot whose biggest goal in life is to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. Before they even hit the fifteen minute mark, from out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees the ice pack slide down Peter’s face as the boy drifts off.

X

The combination of pain pills and the usual post-injury recovery time knocks Peter out and he sleeps straight through the rest of the movie. He’s still a little groggy and disoriented when Tony wakes him for dinner, but years of mentoring a reckless teenage superhero have taught the man that this is all par for the course.

Given that the pork chops Pepper left for them to reheat (before heading to her sister’s house for the weekend) require a bit more chewing than Peter’s face is up for at the moment, Tony whips the kid up a smoothie to drink instead.

Peter peers warily into the glass Tony hands him, swirling the green contents around. “What’s in here?”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I found in the fridge. Blueberries, yogurt, scoop of protein powder, a banana, some spinach…”

“Ew, why would you drink spinach?” Morgan interrupts, her nose wrinkling up in disgust. “That’s gross.”

“Says the girl who put mayonnaise on her graham crackers last week,” Tony points out.

“It was good!” she defends.

Peter takes a cautious sip of the drink. He looks contemplative for second, then must have decided that he approves of the flavor because he just shrugs and proceeds to down about half the glass in a few gulps.

Morgan makes a dramatic gagging noise. Tony rolls his eyes and flicks her arm playfully.

“It’s actually really good,” Peter admits, lowering the cup back down. “Been awhile since I’ve had real vegetables.”

“Ugh, lucky,” Morgan groans as Tony adds a few pieces of asparagus to the little girl’s plate. “They’re the worst. Except for artichokes—those are good.”

“You like artichokes?” Peter questions.

“Uh huh.” She grins. “And turnips!”

“Well, Gerald likes turnips,” Tony clarifies, “and Morgan likes feeding them to him.”

This comment inspires Morgan to launch into a long-winded explanation of all the things she’s ever seen Gerald eat—from grass, to broccoli stalks, to a weird-looking bug—and which of those were his favorites. Peter nods along to her rambling, but seems far less engaged than usual and doesn’t even react when she mentions Gerald’s favorite type of cookie is double stuffed Oreo.

(Tony, on the other hand, interrupts at that point with a stern lecture for the six-year-old on what she can and cannot feed the alpaca moving forward.)

Once dinner is over, they all migrate back to the living room. Morgan wants to play Uno, and Peter obliges for a while, but his overall lack of focus persists.

“Peeeterrrr,” Morgan whines for the third time, poking his arm to snap him out of his daze. “It’s your turn again. You gotta draw two.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter takes two cards from the deck and adds them to his hand before reaching up to rub tiredly at his temples.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Headache?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Peter admits. “It’s not bad, just like… there.”

“Hm.” Tony nods. Turning to Morgan he says, “What do you say we finish this game up tomorrow?” Morgan’s face screws up and she looks like she’s about to protest before he adds, “Pretty sure there are some fudge-pops left in the freezer. I won’t tell Mommy if you don’t.”

Morgan drops her cards with an excited whoop and jumps up to run to the kitchen.

Tony gets to his feet to follow her. He glances back at Peter, who has sunk into the cushions with a relieved sigh. “Fudge-pop?” he offers.

Peter makes a non-committal noise in his throat. “I dunno. Think I might just head to bed.”

Tony glances at his watch. It’s just shy of eight o’clock—even Morgan doesn’t usually go to bed for another half hour. He knows Peter’s healing always takes a lot out of him, but he’s seen the kid looking less drowsy and out of it after getting slammed into the airport tarmac in Germany and cracking three ribs than he does at the moment. “Think you might be coming down with something?” he asks.

Peter shrugs once more, prompting Tony to press his hand to the kid’s forehead. He definitely isn’t detecting a fever—if anything, Peter’s skin is a little cold.

“What’s not feeling good?” Tony clarifies. “Head? Stomach? Throat?”

Peter hesitates a second. “Just… just my head I guess.” He sighs. “I think I’m just tired. Haven’t really been sleeping that great lately,” he confesses.

Tony’s forehead creases in concern. “Kid, you know May and I talked to you about overloading yourself your first year at school.”

“No, I go to bed,” Peter clarifies, “I just don’t always, like, sleep.”

“Why?” Tony’s frown deepens. “Are you having nightmares, or…?”

“No…” Peter exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. I just can’t always, like, settle down? I don’t know—it’s really not that bad,” he quickly backtracks. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

(Like an idiot, Tony believes him.)

“Alright, well, sleep well kid,” he says as Peter shuffles off to the guest room.

X

“Okay, so... this is a little weird,” Peter says as he enters the kitchen the next morning.

Tony glances up and blinks at the sight of Peter’s very swollen and now darkly bruised nose and cheekbone. He sets down the bowl of waffle batter he’s been whisking and moves over to get a closer look.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony mutters under his breath, running his fingertips carefully over the still-clearly-broken bone. “You once healed from a compound fracture overnight.” He pauses a beat. “Of your femur.”

“Eh...” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Super-healing isn’t really a science, is it?”

“Well it’s certainly not an art,” Tony retorts. He gestures to the kid’s nose. “Unless this is your Black-and-Blue Period, Picasso.”

Peter groans, sinking down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “That was almost as painful as my face,” he complains.

It’s clear the kid meant it as a joke, but that admission does nothing to alleviate Tony’s concern. He finds Peter a fresh ice pack and doses him out another painkiller before resuming making breakfast.

Somehow even a second night of sleep doesn’t seem to have restored much of the kid’s energy. Peter sits hunched forward with one elbow on the table to hold the ice to his face and has his phone resting in his lap. He scrolls idly through it, looking like he might nod off any second.

After a few minutes, the backdoor to the kitchen swings open and Morgan re-enters with pieces of hay still stuck to her boots.

“I gave Gerald two turnips,” she announces. “And he hummed at me and then he tried to steal my hat but I got it back ‘cept for the fuzzy thing.” She points at the red knit hat on her head, which is missing a pom-pom.

Tony groans as he ladles more waffle batter onto the iron. “He didn’t swallow it, did he? Because if that vet has to come out here one more time, I swear—”

“Peter!” Morgan blurts, suddenly noticing the boy at the table. He startles and looks up from his lap as the six-year-old runs over to him. “Your face looks so bad!”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, Morgan, we don’t—”

“So, so, so, so bad,” she emphasizes, as tears well up in her eyes. She throws her arms around his waist. “I’m really r-really sorry!” she cries. “I didn’t m-mean to hit you with the beans!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Mo,” Peter assures, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s gonna heal really soon, okay? I’m a spider, remember? I always heal fast.”

“But sp-spiders don...don’t heal fast!” Morgan sobs into his chest. “You can squish ‘em re-really easy and they d-die if it gets too c-cold or if they get sprayed with bug killing stuff, an-and…”

Peter glances up and shoots his mentor a look of utter helplessness.

In return, Tony shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t look at me, kid. I’ve been wondering the same thing since we met.”

Still holding the crying child, Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding...” Tony says under his breath. He abandons the waffle iron and heads over to gather the sobbing six-year-old up into his arms. “Morgan, sweetheart, listen to me,” he says as he rubs her back gently. “Peter isn’t really a spider, okay? He’s actually more of a mutant.”

(Morgan only cries harder at that.)

Peter huffs out a short laugh and leans back against the chair. “Doing great, Mr. Stark.”

“...And because he’s a mutant,” Tony plows right along, “his DNA is different from ours and that’s why he usually heals freaky fast,” he explains over her tears as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Except it’s just being a little slow today, so we’re gonna just let him rest and eat some good food and that should help fix him up, okay?”

She hiccups a few times. “So he ju...just needs some w-waffles?” she manages to get out.

That jogs Tony’s memory. He spins around to see that the iron is still very much on and the waffle is starting to burn, smoke wafting up around the edges. “Ah shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Peter says, pushing himself quickly up from his seat. But the moment he gets to his feet, he staggers sideways and grips the table, his face draining of color.

“Pete?” Tony goes to set the still-sniffling six-year-old back down, but before he’s able to get her feet on the floor, Peter’s knees give out.

Tony curses and shoots a hand out just a second too late as Peter crumples first to his knees and then to the ground, landing directly on his already-injured face.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “Daddy!” she shrieks.

Tony plops her down abruptly. “Go unplug the waffle maker, okay?” he instructs her as he drops to his knees next to Peter. He figures the last thing they need to add to the chaos is a smoke alarm.

Eyes still locked on the scene before her, Morgan nods and runs over to the counter to unplug the device. Meanwhile, Tony rolls Peter over onto his back and instantly grimaces at the sight. Besides the deathly pallor, the kid’s broken nose is definitely crooked now and fresh blood is streaming down.

“Is he… dead?” Morgan asks, horrified.

“No, no, of course not...” Tony presses two fingers to the pulse point in the boy’s neck, relieved to feel a strong, albeit fast, beat. “He just fainted—he’ll be fine,” he says, shaking the unconscious boy’s shoulder. 

“He looks dead,” Morgan whispers, still staring.

“Yeah, but he’s not,” Tony says firmly. Not wanting the blood to run down Peter’s throat, he continues to roll the kid over until he’s on his side in a sort of modified recovery position. “Pete, c’mon, this isn’t a good look,” he mutters, tapping Peter’s cheek. “We’re all getting enough trauma therapy as it is…”

Finally, the kid’s eyelids start fluttering open. “There you go, that’s it,” Tony praises when Peter blinks up at him. “You back with us yet?”

Peter groans and lets his eyes close again. “Do I ‘ave to be?”

“Yes,” Tony says curtly. He starts shaking Peter’s shoulder again, though gentler now. “I need to know how I’m taking you to Bruce—car or ambulance?”

“Ugh… How ‘bout neither?” Peter mumbles. He lifts a hand up tiredly to wipe a bit of blood off his upper lip. “‘M alright. Just got a lil’ dizzy…”

“Nope.” Worry is quickly taking over Tony, though it comes out in the form of briskness. “You’ve got sixty seconds to get off the floor or I’m choosing for you,” he declares, already pulling out his phone.

Morgan’s voice comes out small and quavering. “Peter...?”

Ultimately, that sound is what it takes to make Peter move. With Tony’s support, he pushes himself up and sits there for a moment, blinking wearily as blood trickles down from his nose. Tony sends Morgan to fetch a box of tissues and a clean shirt for Peter, then loads them both into the car for a little field trip.

X

“Anemia?” Peter repeats, incredulous.

The kid is sitting on an exam table at the SHIELD Medical base, his recently-reset nose now splinted. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair beside Tony, entertaining herself with a handful of wooden tongue depressors and a roll of medical tape.

Bruce adjusts his glasses as he scans the results from Peter’s blood panel on his tablet. “Yeah, that’s what the tests are showing. Basically, it means that your body isn’t getting enough iron to produce hemoglobin, so it can’t carry oxygen effectively. This results in fatigue, lightheadedness, insomnia, headaches, shortness of breath, and—apparently in your case—a reduced healing factor.”

“But how did I get anemia?” Peter balks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well, there are a few possible causes,” Bruce explains, “but based on several nutrient deficiencies I’m seeing in your bloodwork, my best guess is from your diet.”

“Ah.” A look of understanding flickers across Peter’s face for a second. “Yeah, okay, that checks out...” he mumbles.

“Wait, how exactly does that ‘check out’?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Well, I just… haven’t been eating the best food lately.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t MIT’s cafeteria serve a pretty decent spread?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Peter allows. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just haven’t been really… uh, going there?”

Tony blinks at him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s Mommy’s word,” Morgan pipes up without looking up from the two wooden sticks she’s connecting together with tape.

“I just don’t have a lot of time between my classes and job and stuff, and the cafeteria is all the way across campus,” Peter explains. “So I mostly just eat my own food.”

“Which would be…?” Bruce asks.

Peter hesitates. “Ramen,” he says after a moment. “The chicken flavor one.”

“Hm, okay…” Bruce nods, jotting this down on his tablet. “Not really the most nutritious option, but definitely a college staple. What else?”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Peter starts picking at a piece of fuzz on his sweatshirt. “Uh… sometimes I get the beef one?”

Tony blinks at him. “Beef ramen?”

“I tried the lime chili shrimp one once. Not a fan.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony blinks again. “Peter, I’m paying for you to have three square meals a day at that college—not three styrofoam cups of dehydrated noodles.”

“I also eat granola bars,” Peter says. “And bagels.” He starts ticking foods off on his fingers. “Microwave burritos, yogurt, uh.... those little frozen chicken taquito thingies? But like, only if my roommate isn’t using the freezer for his weird cult ritual stuff. That’s why I usually stick to the soup.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a sigh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Oh! I had an apple last week!” Peter throws in.

Bruce runs a hand through his own hair, exhaling a carefully measured breath. “Okay, Peter, you know that you have an enhanced metabolism, right? That means you need to eat significantly more food than the average person.”

“Right, and I do!” Peter nods. “I always make sure I get enough calories.”

“And that’s good,” Bruce says, “but you also need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Calories are just a part of that. With your unusual physiology, it’s especially important that you’re getting all the required vitamins and minerals to support the rapid regeneration of your cells, and a diet of cup noodles and bagels—”

“And frozen burritos,” Peter interrupts.

“—is simply not nutritionally dense enough for you,” Bruce finishes. “Not by a long shot.”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

“What does ‘nu-tri-tion-al-ly dense’ mean?” Morgan asks. Her tongue depressor creation has folded over itself and vaguely resembles a collapsed bridge now.

“It means Peter needs to eat more vegetables,” Tony butts in. “Just like you and Gerald.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Gross.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start you on some iron supplements,” Bruce addresses Peter. “But it might take a couple weeks to get your levels back up enough to reverse the anemia. I’m also going to give you a list of foods high in iron—things like dark leafy greens, broccoli, dried fruit, nuts, red meat, kidney beans—”

“NO BEANS,” the other three all declare in unison.

X

After hauling the kids back to the lake house, Tony sets Peter and Morgan up on the couch with another movie (Pirates of the Caribbean this time) and heads to the kitchen to fix them all some lunch. Potatoes and turnips are both high in iron, so he cooks and mashes up a big potful with some milk, butter, and salt, figuring that would be easy to chew without hurting the kid’s face too much. He scoops some into a bowl for Peter and then whips up another green smoothie for him to drink, as well as sandwiches for himself and Morgan. Once everything is ready, he piles it all onto a tray and heads back.

As he approaches the living room, Tony can already hear Morgan’s voice floating towards him in the falsetto stage-whisper she always uses when she’s voicing make-believe characters.

“Help me! Help me!” she cries. “Oh no, I’m falling!”

Tony stops in the room’s threshold to watch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither kid seems to be watching. Instead, Peter is lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed, giggling quietly while Morgan kneels on the floor in front of the cushions, dancing a single M&M around the edges of the boy’s open mouth.

Suddenly, she drops the candy into his mouth with a dramatic gasp. “Noooo… the king has fallen into the pit! The anemia monster got him!” she cries.

“The anemia monster?” Tony asks in amusement.

Peter’s eyes snap open. “Uh, we were just playing a game.”

Morgan turns back to look at her dad, grinning. “Chocolate is on the list Uncle Bruce gave him!” she says, waving the piece of paper in Tony’s direction.

“Pretty sure that says dark chocolate,” Tony says, eyes narrowing at them as he crosses the room. “Not leftover M&Ms from the Christmas stash.”

Morgan’s face falls. “Aw…”

Tony sets the tray of food down on the coffee table. “Don't worry, kids,” he says, passing Peter the kale and fruit-rich protein smoothie. “Iron Man to the rescue.”

X

Link to all my fics

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X

[seyaryminamoto]

If you're caught in the shadow then turn around Lost in the darkness, you will be found If you hear my voice, follow the sound 'Cause I'm here to guide you home

Gladiator’s Seventh Anniversary

March 26th swings by once more, and this time I’ve been celebrating this milestone for nearly a whole month :’D We have twenty Gladiator-arcs-themed artworks by now, and here’s our grand finale! A little more grand than every anniversary up to date, I hope!

This particular entry comes in two forms, however! And here’s the second one:

Say hello to the FIRST GLADIATOR ARTWORK VIDEO! :’D

Yeah, it wasn’t always meant to be the first xD I have two other videos in the works, and one of them is at least over halfway done (with rudimentary animation in it too :’D). Still, this occasion demanded it! And so I decided to go for a video this time, hopefully the next videos won’t take too long to finish!

This hasn’t been an easy year for me, despite I’ve certainly written a lot of things I’m reeeally happy about (that you guys will be seeing later this year). Quite often I’ve found myself losing traction, hope, faltering against many obstacles in my life. I’ve made big and small mistakes here and there, and I’ve had low points, even if none quite as low as the one I hit two years ago...

Still, at the end of the day, this story has always had my back in its own way. I’ve been able to find peace by writing it, even in the darkest of moments. Going over all the progress I’ve made with it, and looking ahead at everything that’s yet to come often fills me with the willpower and strength I need to keep going, no matter what. So, after a year of blackouts, water shortages, internet collapses, countless setbacks with my real-life plans and now even a pandemic, Gladiator has always been the safest harbor I can find refuge in when everything else fails.

This big finale is, of course, meant to encapsulate the growth of Sokka and Azula’s relationship throughout the first half of Part 2. At first I had wanted to draw scenes from each arc I had skipped... but that didn’t quite work out as well as that after I revisited a certain movie, which features a BRILLIANT OST, and it had two songs that I’ve now poached outright for Gladiator purposes :’D Strange Sight is a song that really works well for Sokka and Azula in general (from Sokka’s POV), but the bulk of the song really sounds more like it fits these two in Part 1 xD yet the very conclusion of the song changes its tone... and that’s the part that inspired me into making this video/artwork set!

The first scene depicted is Azula’s “blunder”, when she nearly admits she loves Sokka despite not being ready to say it out loud. He is thrilled, but she’s very flustered, so he gives her space while she blushes stubbornly in her Barge’s cabin (?). The second artwork comes from a scene I always wanted to depict in art, even while I was writing it: Azula watching Pohuai Stronghold at a distance while Sokka is enthralled, looking at her (even blurts out she’s beautiful because he’s a goofball like that xD). The third scene comes from their escapade to the healing hot springs, on the same chapter Sokka gives Azula her secret betrothal necklace. The fourth scene is the crazy kiss these two steal in the airship factory, when they lose sight of Ozai’s retinue and make out amidst the factory equipment, steam and whatnot rising around them... because that’s just the stuff they like to do xD The fifth scene is taken from their chaotic anniversary arc, once they had already patched things up and were drying each other’s hair with towels... Azula dried Sokka, his hair was a disaster afterwards and she laughed her ass off while he did his best to take revenge xD the sixth scene depicts a much darker moment, Azula using her gold fire to fight back against Seethus, underground (not sure if it shows, but clutching Sokka’s hand is what allowed her to use gold fire properly in the midst of such a desperate situation. And the seventh scene is meant to portray Azula in that arc too, after she has rebelled against her father and takes off with Sokka, putting more distance between herself and Ozai than ever before...

The final one isn’t really derived from a particular scene of the fic, instead it’s the image I always get of these two when I hear the end of that song. “You’re not alone” is definitely one of the most important things Azula needs and deserves to hear. Though it’s not only for her to hear it... it’s for her to know for sure that it’s true, that she has a partner who will stand by her through thick and thin, to the ends of the world if need be. That no matter how bad things can get, she knows he’s on her side and always will be.

It has taken quiiiite a while to develop their bond and relationship to this extent, but I have to say it has been such a wonderful process for me... as I’ve said in the past, Gladiator’s Part 1 was the story of how they get together, but Part 2 is the story of how things work now that they are together. There’s a strange, general perception of romance storytelling, and it even expands into IRL relationships, I’d say, that suggests, whether intentionally or not, that relationships stop developing, evolving, growing once they’re consummated. I don’t know if the fairytale “they lived happily ever after!” is to blame for that, but personally, I don’t see the point in watching a relationship be built up from the ground only to witness a brief glimpse of how it works before the curtain falls. That’s why Gladiator’s Part 2 has been the exact opposite of that. Both Azula and Sokka had a lot left to grow and develop after Part 1 was finished, their partnership did too, and there’s like a gazillion plotlines, new and old, that will be crucial in building up the biggest, baddest climax of the story so far. Therefore... I’d like to think my point has been made? You CAN tell a story about this side of a couple’s life together. Whether people stick around to read it is another subject, but if you’re working with a couple as dynamic as these two, getting them together is barely the first part of the journey.

I make it no secret that Part 2 is definitely my favorite chunk of the story, especially the chapters that are being published nowadays (and those that will be published in the future), so part of the reason why I went all out here is because I really, REALLY wanted to cherish everything this part of the story embodies for me and, hopefully, for everyone who has read and enjoyed it.

I deeply thank everyone who has stuck it out with me through this journey, no matter if you were here from the first moment or if you’re a newcomer who hasn’t even caught up yet. I’m also really grateful if you don’t know the story at all but still took your time to even drop a like on any of these posts. It has always been scary to be a creator on the Internet, both because of the potential backlash against what you do and, perhaps even worse than that, the indifference of people who don’t really care much about what you create, regardless of how much work you’ve put into it, and how much you’ve grown so you can make new ideas a reality. But there’s people out there, really wonderful people, who have always been supportive of my crazy creative efforts, always sticking by me no matter how difficult it could be (and no matter how long this story gets :’D). I’m far from a perfect content creator, and sometimes I get discouraged by the stupidest things... but when you guys show interest in what I do, when you say how much the story means to you, it never fails to revitalize me and get me going once again.

So this big celebration is for those of you who stick by me, who support me, who encourage me at my lowest and highest alike because you believe in me and the story I’ve been telling for SEVEN YEARS NOW :’D It’s also for those who may yet return to see what mayhem I’ve crafted for these two in the years since they stopped reading. And it’s, without a doubt, for myself... because now I’m certainly far more confident with my art than ever before, and because everything I make for these two gives me all the right feels just when I need them. Finally... it’s for Sokka and Azula, most of all. The two sides of my beloved OTP, who have been by far the most inspiring characters I’ve ever worked with, and who deserve the entire world, as far as I’m concerned. Granted, I’m a jerk and I won’t make things easy for them in the coming years... but we all know they can be stronger and prevail! At least, I hope you all believe that as well as I do xD

So, as always, here’s to you, my supportive readers, to these wonderful protagonists, and to the story that chronicles their many adventures on their way to changing the world, as they always have meant to! Thanks to all of you for your support, and keep an eye out for Gladiator’s next update, dropping tomorrow!

[eunsuri]

Fool

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Months after the events in Svartalfheim, you are summoned to Asgard by Odin, where you discover that your lover still lives. (Post Dark World)

Word Count: 1,820

Warnings: None, except a tiny bit of angst and a little fighting.

A/N: Ok so this is something I couldn't get out of my head after binge-watching Marvel movies and my love for Loki re-emerged once again. I have an idea for a full fic of adventures with Loki during his reign of Asgard and beyond, so do let me know if you'd like me to turn this into a full work rather than just a little oneshot. You can also read on AO3 if you prefer. 

The bright light of the Bifrost flashed and flickered around you, your hair settling as the blasting wind from the portal came to a halt. Your feet landed gracefully on the Observatory floor and you tucked your staff into its holster against your back, the iron snapping into the handle.

A bald, burly man stood in the center, gripping Hofund tightly in his gloved hands while two Asgardian ladies dressed in fine silk gowns were seated on the stairs. The three gawked at you intently, your clothing and staff a clear indication of the fact that you were not of Asgard. 

“Skurge, I presume? Where is Heimdall?” You questioned the tall man as you eyed the two maidens with a raised brow.

“He’s been banished. Heimdall is a traitor to Asgard,” he informed haughtily.

You pressed your lips together firmly and nodded, “Right.”

“You’re the sorceress the King sent for?” Skurge released the Bifrost Sword and stepped down towards you.

“Correct,” you gave another nod and began towards the Rainbow Bridge. “I assume I have no need to be announced.” 

Without waiting for a response, you strolled past the giant golden cogs and through the archway. The fresh air filled your lungs instantly and the warm sunlight bathed your skin through the clouds. You loved the glistening gold structures of Asgard which towered high into the sky while the waters around the land rippled and glittered from the reflection. The length of the Bridge stretched out across to the grand Palace, an array of colours shining through the crystalline surface. 

Your staff slid open to its full length when you removed it from the holster, tapping it against the Bridge before leaping onto the iron steadily as it released a burst of wind and thrust you across the air. Much faster this way.

The breeze rushed through your tresses and your clothes flapped back and forth while you glided towards the enormous structure. You could make out the contours of other planets and moons in the sky, shying behind stars as the sun had made its way further down. Asgard was truly a magnificent sight to behold, but it brought a bittersweet taste to your senses upon your return to the land. It was nearing a full year since your last visit, before you had lost someone dear to you.

Once you had arrived at your destination, you hopped to the ground at the entrance and tucked the staff away. You inhaled deeply to soothe and steel your heart, then proceeded into the Palace and towards the Throne Room. Although you had seen it before, the large hall still astounded you with its thick golden columns and intricately painted tiles. 

Four guards stood on either side of the throne towards the back, at the ready, and seated upon the magnificently designed throne was Odin Allfather, King of Asgard. He held his magical spear steady to his right and you noted how he was seated on an angle, leaning towards his left with his cheek resting against the back of his hand. Oddly casual for Odin.

“Your Highness,” you greeted once you arrived at the foot of the platform and dropped elegantly into a kneel. 

“Welcome back, Sorceress,” he lifted his head with a nod as his arm relaxed down. Behind his beard you could see his lips were curved into what seemed to be a small smirk. He bounced the bottom of his spear once against the gilded floor of his throne and waved a hand dismissively to his guards. “Leave us.”

Rising from your knee, you watched the armour clad wardens march out of the hall promptly. “A private audience, your Majesty?” You asked once the room had cleared.

“Indeed,” he beckoned you forward as he shifted in his seat.

Following his command, you tread up the stairs cautiously, the sound of your metal coated boots clicking slowly over the silence. Your heart skipped when a familiar, playful gleam twinkled in his eye while he watched you fixedly, catching you off guard. 

No way. It couldn’t be…

Your footsteps increased in haste until you halted before him, gaze still locked onto his as you couldn’t help but tilt forward slightly. You placed your hands on the arms of his throne and spoke.

“Hello, Mischief.”

With a light chuckle and a quick shake of his head, the King lifted himself to stand close, towering over you. Your heart accelerated and your throat constricted, while your stomach turned and a tingle slipped up your back. A wash of light flashed from his nose and spread instantly over his face and body, revealing the face you thought you’d never see again.

His snowy beard and grey hair dissipated, unveiling his smirking lips and his lustrous raven locks. There was no longer a patch hiding his mischievous blue eyes, which were fixed on your own. “Well done.”

Your breath caught as you studied his features, feeling as though he would disappear if you blinked and it would be another cruel illusion or a dream, but this time, you could feel him. You could sense the warmth of his body and smell the leather of his clothing, mixed with his usual crisp, clean scent. You could almost taste his lips when his silky voice left them.

It really is him, it’s not just a dream. 

First came relief, then joy, followed by a wave of grief, until fury and adrenaline prickled through your veins. Unable to repel your rage, you brought a hand up to swat his face, but he caught your wrist instantly before you could make contact. His taunting grin only pressed at your urge to hit him and without hesitation, you reached for your staff; which he obstructed with his spear.

“You should know by now that not many people can surprise me, so why do you insist on trying?” Loki teased as you glowered at him with flames alight in your eyes.

“You truly are a slippery bastard,” you hissed and stepped back, brandishing your weapon.

“And here I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he sighed wryly, lowering his hands to his sides.

“I watched you die,” you cried out as you rushed forward, swinging your staff at him from the right.

“That, you did,” he deflected your attack, sending you backwards and swiping towards your legs.

You sprung up to dodge his blow and brought your staff down the middle, meeting with his and bringing it in a loop in an attempt to disarm him. “I’ve mourned you this whole time! Denied the comforts of any other man-”

“Look, I-” he was cut off when your staff met his chest and thrust him back against the golden throne.

“And what have you been doing, Your Highness? Lounging about your Palace in your frilly robes?” You sneered as you knocked Gungnir from his hand. Your frustration burned in your chest as you breathed. “Indulging in Asgardian wenches while I cried for you?”

“Darling, I’d do nothing of the sort,” his laugh was taunting. He stood as you twirled your weapon, holding your stance on the steps below while he flicked his wrists to draw his blades.

“Why didn’t you at least give me some indication-” you held your staff up to block an incoming strike of his knife. “That you were alive?”

“I had to maintain the illusion,” he brought his second blade towards your torso.

You turned your staff diagonally, swatting the second blade to the side. “That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard, Loki.” 

“Do you plan on slaughtering me yourself this time, then?” He caught the end of your weapon and twisted upwards, using your firm grip on it to swivel your back to him.

“Yes, and I will bring you back from the depths of Hel, just to slaughter you again, if I must,” you spat, venom laced within your words as your back collided with his chest.

“Get on with it then,” he snickered with his blade held to your neck, the other arm taut around your waist. You could feel his hot breath trickle down your ear as he whispered into your hair just above. “You have grown stronger.”

Steadying your panting and chaotically rapid pulse, you angled your neck to glance up at him, eyes landing on his parted lips. Rolling onto the balls of your feet, you raised yourself to near his lips, where he responded by lowering his head towards yours. You took the opportunity to use the full strength of your body and knock him back onto the throne.

You slipped out of his arms when you felt his grip loosen as he landed and jabbed your staff towards his slumped form. “And you have grown foolish, my love.”

Loki remained still on the seat for a moment, until you felt a warmth behind you and his figure disappeared. Before you could react, the bottom of your weapon was raised into the air and turned against your body, thrusting down at you. 

“Hey, no tricks. I didn’t use my magic,” you struggled against the pressure of your staff, finding yourself pressed onto the surface of the staircase. 

“Then you are the fool, sweetheart,” he retorted, provoking you to kick his leg and bring him down with you.

His grasp remained solid on the staff while you wrestled against the floor, before he used his power to tear it back, dragging you along towards him. You heard it clank against the tiles as he tossed it down and shoved your arm against the stairs, his blade once again held above your throat. 

“Will you forgive me now that you are at my mercy?” The playful glint in his captivating eyes shone brighter as he hovered over you.

You released an exasperated sigh, laying your head back on the cool surface. After a short moment of composing your thoughts and breathing, you rolled your eyes, unable to resist his smug grin. 

“Look at you,” your fingers trailed into his long dark hair and nodded towards the golden throne. “You’ve won the crown you’ve desired for so long. A King.” 

The King accepted your words as a victory, removing his blade and replacing it with a warm hand around your neck. His breath lingered softly as his black locks tickled your cheek, then your lips met fiercely in a stormy kiss, moving together with a slow yet fervent motion. You could feel the intoxicating and tingling sensation of your magic weaving into his. He liberated your arm he’d held down, allowing you to coil it around his neck while he found your waist and you tugged each other closer. 

It was precisely what you both needed after the time you had spent apart. You felt the weight of your grief lift away, becoming replaced with relief and adoration. He was truly alive.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

[jadelotusflower]

November Roundup

Some writing success this month - I finished and posted a new chapter for Against the Dying of the Light, and made progress on The Lady of the Lake and Turn Your Face to the Sun. I didn’t work much on my novel, but I did do some editing on the first third so that’s progress.

Words written this month: 6647

Total this year: 67,514

November books

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo - joint winner of the 2019 Booker Prize (with The Testaments by Margaret Atwood) this was an engrossing and interesting read. Stylistically unusual formatting and scant use of punctuation that is a bit jarring at first, but you quickly adapt as you read. There’s no plot as such - instead the story is formed by vignettes of twelve black women and their disparate yet interconnected lives. We have mothers and daughters, close friends, teachers and students, although the connections aren’t always obvious at first - we can be exposed to a character briefly in the story of another with no idea that she will be a focus later on. It’s very skillfully done, to the point whereupon finishing I wanted immediately to re-read (but alas, it was already overdue back to the library). There is so much ground covered that we are really only given a glimpse into the characters lives, but there is a diversity of intergenerational perspectives of the African diaspora in the UK, and I highly recommend.

The Evening and the Morning by Ken Follett - after finishing The Pillars of the Earth I had intended to read the sequel, but this was available on the library shelf and I had to place a hold on World Without End, so the prequel came first. Set sixty years before the Conquest (150 before Pillars) it primarily addresses the growth of the hamlet of Dreng’s Ferry into the town of Kingsbridge, through the lives of a monk with a strong moral code, a clever and beautiful noblewoman, and a skilled builder, working against the machinations of an evil bishop. Sound familiar? This is Follet’s most recent work, and I do wonder if he’s running out of ideas as this covers very similar thematic ground.

Ragna is a compelling female character, but once again the romance-that-cannot-be with Edgar is tepid, Aldred is a very watered down version of Prior Philip, and there’s no grand framing device such as building the cathedral to really tie to all together (although things do Get Built, and it’s interesting but not on the level of Pillars). This is the tail end of the Dark Ages and it shows - Viking raids, slavery, infanticide - and while it seems Follett’s style is to put his characters through much tragedy and tribulation before their happy ending, I wish writers would stop going to the rape well so readily. But at least the sexual violence isn’t as...lasciviously written as in Pillars? Scant praise, I know. But Follett’s strength in drawing the reader into the world and time period is on display, made even more interesting in this era about which we know very little.

Women and Leadership by Julia Gillard and Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala - I have a great deal of respect for Julia Gillard, Australia’s first female Prime Minister who was treated utterly shamefully during her tenure and never got the credit she deserved, perhaps excepting the reaction to her iconic “misogny speech” whichyou can enjoy in full here:

Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala was the first woman to be Minister of Finance and Foreign Affairs in Nigeria, was also the former Managing Director of the World Bank, and currently a candidate for Director-General of the WTO.

This is an interesting examination of women in leadership roles, comparing and contrasting the lives and experiences of a select few including (those I found the most interesting) Ellen Sirleaf, the first female President of Liberia, Joyce Banda, the first female President of Malawi, New Zealand’s current Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern, and of course, Gillard and Okonjo-Iweala themselves.

November shows/movies

The Vow and Seduced: Inside the NXIVM Cult - I’ve been following the NXIVM case for a while now, when the news broke in 2017 I was surprised and intrigued that it involved actresses from some of my fandom interests - Alison Mack (Smallville), Grace Park and Nikki Clyne (Battlestar Galactica), and Bonnie Piasse (Star Wars). Uncovered: Escaping NXIVM is an excellent podcast from that point in time that’s well worth a listen. There’s been a lot of discussion comparing these two documentaries and which one is better, but I feel they’re both worthwhile.

The Vow gives a primer of NXIVM as a predatory “self improvement” pyramid scheme/cult run by human garbage Keith Reniere, from the perspective of former members turned whistleblowers Bonnie Piasse, who first suspected things were wrong, her husband Mark Vicente who was high up in the organisation, and Sarah Edmondson who was a member of DOS, the secret group within NXIVM that involved branding and sex trafficking. Seduced gives more insight into the depravity and criminality of DOS from the pov of India Oxenburg, just 19 when she joined the group and who became Alison Mack’s “slave” in DOS - she was required to give monthly “collateral” in the form of explicit photographs or incriminating information about herself or her family, had to ask Mack’s permission before eating anything (only 500 calories allowed per day), was ordered to have sex with Reniere, and other horrific treatment - Mack herself was slave to Reniere (as was Nikki Clyne) and there were even more horrific crimes including rape and imprisonments of underage girls.

Of course each show has an interest in portraying its subjects as less culpable than perhaps they were (there were people above and below them all in the pyramid after all) - Vicente and Edmondson in The Vow and Oxenburg in Seduced, but what I did appreciate about Seduced was the multiple experts to explain how and why people were indoctrinated into this cult, and why it was so difficult to break free from it. This is a story of victims who were also victimisers and all the complications that come along with that, although I’m not sure any of these people are in the place yet to really reckon with what happened and all need a lot of therapy.

Focusing on individual journeys also narrows the scope - there are other NXIVM members interviewed I would have liked to have heard a lot more from. There is also a lot of jumping back and forth in time in both docos so the timeline is never quite clear unless you do further research. I would actually like to see another documentary one day a bit further removed from events dealing with the whole thing from start to finish from a neutral perspective. The good news is that Reniere was recently sentenced to 120 years in prison so he can rot.

I saw value in both, but you’re only going to watch one of these, I would say go for Seduced - if you’re interested in as much information as possible, watch The Vow first to get a primer on all the main players and then Seduced for the full(er) story.

The Crown (season 4) - While I love absolutely everything Olivia Coleman does, I thought it took a while for her to settle in as the Queen last season and it’s almost sad that she really nailed it this season, just in time for the next cast changeover (but I also love everything Imelda Staunton does so...) This may be an unpopular opinion, but I wasn’t completely sold on Gillian Anderson as Thatcher - yes I know she sounded somewhat Like That, but for me the performance was a little too...affected? (and someone get her a cough drop, please!) 

It is also an almost sympathetic portrayal of Thatcher - even though it does demonstrate her classism and internalised misogyny, it doesn’t really explore the full impact of Thatcherism, why she was such a polarising figure to the extent that some would react like this to her death:

But I suppose it’s called The Crown, not The PM.

Emma Corrin is wonderful as Diana, and boy do they take no prisoners with Charles (or the other male spawn). I was actually surprised at how terrible they made Charles seem rather than both sidesing it as I had expected (but perhaps that’s being saved for season 5). It does hammer home just how young Diana was when they were married (19 to Charles’ 32), how incompatible they were and the toxicity of their marriage (standard disclaimer yes it’s all fictionalised blah blah). The performances are exceptional across the board - Tobias Menzies and Josh O’Conner were also standouts and it’s a shame to see them go.

I was however disappointed to see that the episode covering Charles and Di’s tour of Australia was not only called “Terra Nullius” but the term was used as a very tone deaf metephor that modern Australia was no longer “nobody’s land/country”. For those who aren’t aware, terra nullius was the disgraceful legal justification for British invasion/colonisation of Australia despite the fact that the Indigenous people had inhabited the continent for 50,000 years or more. While the tour was pre-Mabo (the decision that overturned the doctrine of terra nullius and acknowledged native title), there was no need to use this to make the point, especially when there was no mention at all of the true meaning/implication of the term.

The Spanish Princess (season 2, episodes 4-8)- Sigh. I guess I’m more annoyed at the squandered potential of this show, since the purpose ostensibly was to focus on the time before The Great Matter and give Katherine “her due” - and instead they went and made her the most unsympathetic, unlikeable character in the whole damn show. (Spoilers) She literally rips Bessie Blount’s baby from her body and, heedless to a mother’s pleas to hold her child, runs off to Henry so she can present him with “a son”. I mean, what the actual fuck?

I’m not a stickler for historical accuracy so long as it’s accurate to the spirit of history (The Tudors had its flaws, but it threaded this needle most of the time), but this Katherine isn’t even a shadow of her historical figure - she’s not a troubled heroine, she’s cruel and vindictive, Margaret Pole is a sanctimonious prig, and Margaret Tudor does little but sneer and shout - the only one who comes out unscathed is Mary Tudor (the elder), and it’s only because she’s barely in it at all. It’s a shame because I like all of these actresses (especially Georgie Henley and Laura Carmichael) but they are just given dreck to work with.

This is not an issue with flawed characters, it’s the bizarre presentation of these characters that seems to want to be girl power rah rah, and yet at the same time feels utterly misogynistic by pitting the women against each other or making them spiteful, stupid, or crazy for The Drama. I realise this is based on Gregory so par for the course, but it feels particularly egregious here. (Spoilers) At one point Margaret Pole is banished from court by Henry, and because Katherine won’t help her (because she cant!) she decides to spill the beans about Katherine’s non-virginity. Yes, her revenge against the hated Tudors is...to give Henry exactly what he wants? Even though it will result in young Mary, who she loves and cares for, being disinherited? Girlboss!

This season also missed the opportunity to build on its predecessors The White Queen/Princess and show why it was so important to Henry to have a male heir - the Tudor reign wasn’t built on the firmest foundations and so needed uncontested transfer of power, at the time there was historic precedent that passing the throne to a daughter led to Anarchy, and wars of succession were very recent in everyone’s memory. At least no one was bleating about The Curse this time, which is actually kind of surprising, because the point of the stupid curse is the Tudor dynasty drama.

But it’s not all terrible. Lina and Oviedo are the best part of the show, and (spoilers) thankfully make it out alive. Both are a delight to watch and I wish the show had been just about them.

Oh well. One day maybe we’ll get the Katherine of Aragon show we deserve - at least I can say that the costumes were pretty, small consolation though it is.

[slxyangel]

Let The Tables Turn (Duff McKagan x Reader)

Summary: The narration of a story full of broken promises and strong hopes.

Wordcount: 4k.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, probably the most angst I’ve ever written, insecurities, really dark and dramatic shit.

A/N: This was informally requested by @holyjunkie a while ago, and it has been stting in my drabbles for like a month now, but since today it’s Duff’s birthday I thought it was the perfect oportunity. I’m really proud of the result and I hope you all enjoy it so much, let me know your thoughts :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN || ASK ME FOR TAGS

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

Your leg bounced up and down from its place on the stall. Really, really fast; really, really angry. The anxiety being there provoked you wouldn't wear off in the slightest with such an insignificant action, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. What the fuck were you doing there anyway?

The air was thick, the lights were red and the music and voices didn’t even let you hear your own thoughts. Though maybe it was for the better, because what good could you draw from them in that very moment? The club was jam-packed with people, but you were alone, sitting right next to the bar and waiting for Duff to show up from somewhere in there, get his ass in your car and go back home with you. Because at least that was the plan. Going to the damn party for less than an hour, saying hi to everyone, going back home and, like he profusely promised, celebrating your birthday as the law commands.

Because yeah, your birthday had been four days before, but not only he hadn’t spent a single minute of the day with you, but he had been too busy doing God knows what to even call you and wish you, the girl he had been living with for five months and dating for a year and a half, a happy birthday. Nah, instead you had to spend the whole day with no news from him, pacing around and going to bed worried about something serious having happened to him, only to then, at four in the morning of a Tuesday, wake up to the noise of destroyed furniture and his little whines. When you went downstairs with a fucking baseball bat in your hand, just in case you had to smash a burglar’s skull, what you found made your heart sink down to underground levels. Duff was there, on the floor of the kitchen, lights off, eyes unfocused, and the broken table table at his feet.

He was drunk. But he was not just drunk, he was completely fucking wasted. He was so drunk he couldn’t even stand on his own and needed the help of the table. In fact, he was so drunk he wasn’t even able to hold on to the table properly, so he ended up throwing it down with him. You hadn’t seen him or heard from him since Sunday, and you had spent your whole 23rd birthday worried in case something awful had happened to him, only to end up kneeling in the floor of the bathroom, holding his hair and your tears back.

The problem was that, lately, Duff was not Duff. He wasn’t the sweet, caring boy that would show up one day with a box of gingerbread with raisins and your favourite movie from the videoclub just because, in one occasion, he had heard you say you used to have gingerbread with raisins for breakfast when you were little. Or the guy who called to your home for eight days in a row while you were on a roadtrip and dealt with your sister telling him you actually were on a roadtrip, until the ninth day it was finally you who picked up the phone. Not anymore. The past few months had turned him into this irritating, troubled man who only opened his mouth to complain about you being a fucking killjoy because you didn’t want to have sex with him after he drank seven shots of vodka. It was the alcohol what had made that out of him, and it awakened demons in you that you didn’t wanna have to face.

But you held on. You held on for him, you held on for the love of your life and for all the stories you had built with him, you held on because you still had faith. Even when he was the way he wasn’t supposed to be, you still saw in his eyes the flick of shine that had dragged you towards him in the first place. You loved him so much it physically hurted, and seeing him like that was ripping apart a side of you you didn’t know you could miss so badly.

And it’s not like you hadn’t had conversations about it, man, you fucking had them. When he was not drunk, he was still easy to talk to, and he reasoned. One of the few mornings he woke up in your bed and wasn’t recovering from a night out and its subsequent hangover, you took advantage and, almost scared of his reaction, addressed the issue. And he understood, and he told you you were right, and he apologized, and he cried, and he made love to you, and he promised to try. And he also promised to be there on your birthday for a fucking picnic or a movie night or having lunch together at McDonalds, you really could not care less about the choice, because what really made you happy was that he was going to try. So you trusted, and you held on. But what did you hold on for? A broken table, a broken promise and a broken heart.

He immediately knew he had fucked up. His eyes, even behind the mist of alcohol, unmistakably told you so. But you really didn’t have the strength to talk about it in that moment, that would have cracked you. So you bit your lip, you put him to bed, left a glass of water and a pill in case he woke up before you did, and curled up next to him to try and get some sleep before the conversation that was inevitably going to happen the next morning. But the next morning the glass was empty, the pill gone and his side of the bed cold. He had left. And you couldn’t fucking understand why he would do that, not after what happened the night before.

You didn’t hear from him for almost three days after that. Again. He didn’t call, he didn’t show up, nothing, and if it wasn’t for the fact that all his clothes were still in your wardrobe you would have thought that he had finally left for good. But on Thursday night he called you.

-Babe… -- In your side of the line he only found silence, but he dared and started talking -- I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t deserve to even have the chance to tell you this, but I am so, so sorry.

You still didn’t answer. You couldn’t, you had lost your vocal chords. You wanted to yell, you wanted to rip off the phone cable, you wanted to smash his skull against a corner, you wanted to kick the pieces of the table that still were there because you hadn’t had the courage to throw them away, because you had the feeling that they meant something. But instead you could only bring yourself to ask him:

-Why didn’t you call?

The sound of your voice was little more than a fine thread, but you couldn’t risk it. You couldn’t speak louder because then your voice would break, and if your voice broke you would immediately follow. And that couldn’t happen, not with him at the other side of the phone.

-Because I was ashamed--the answer left you frozen--.I was ashamed and I am ashamed. I can’t look at myself in the mirror, because what I see makes me sick. And I don’t mean on the outside, it’s the inside what I am talking about. It’s what I’m becoming, it’s what I’ve become, and it’s what I have done to you and what I will still do to you if I keep on going down this path. I’m fucking scared, and I don’t know what to do, but I really, really want this to go away. And this thread of the conversation has to stop, I have to cut it here because this is not about me being a victim, that’s a narrative I won’t use. It’s about me owning up to what I did, because I made a terrible mistake, and presenting solutions, not diving in the problems. And that’s why I want to tell you that tomorrow there is a thing.--He made a pause, testing the fields, but he went on after your expected silence--It’s a small thing, for the band, in a bar. I really have to go, they require me to. But when the other day I said I wanted to make it better I meant it, and I mean it now, I want to make it better. So, if you want, if you trust me, which I wouldn’t expect you to but I would be extremely thankful for, you can come. We will be there for less than an hour, shake a few hands, sign a few autographs, and then get the hell out of the place. And you could also not come if you don’t want to, I can go directly home right after my strictly necessary time in there has passed, but I thought it could be a good idea to show you that I can do better. Like… at a party… not a single drop of booze, nothing. I really only want to be with you. And then we can go home and watch a movie or have an indoor picnic, or McDonalds or I can’t care less. And, if you want, we’re going to fix the table. Will… will you come?

The silence that followed his words filled the line with screams. Screams that asked for forgiveness. Screams that longed for redemption. Screams that fought against screams to see which one would become the loudest one. But the silence still pierced your ears.

-Okay.

Your mouth betrayed your brain before you even had the time to puzzle the consequences your answer would surely have. It was done, quiet and broken, but done. Then, you heard him say the word “Yeah?”, exactly like that, with a question mark, as if he wanted to make sure what he had heard was not him hallucinating, but an actual agreement of you giving him he billionth chance he knew he didn’t deserve but was willing to fight for. You could have backed off then, you could have unsaid your words, but you didn’t. Instead, you nodded, because the knot in your throat was so tight you couldn’t make a sound. But he sensed your nod, and the next thing you heard was a whispered “I love you” and a click he really didn’t want to make, but he knew he had to.

You slid down, with your back against the wall, until you reached the floor, and you cried the bitter tears that were flooding your eyes. You were tired, and if there was one thing you had no doubt about, it’s that you didn’t want more hopes, because your experience tended to always find new ways to tell you that hopes never end up well. But the heart has reasons that reason does not understand.

_______________________________

That was it. You had just about had it. Two hours fooling around alone in there were more than enough, and the wait for your hopes to crash down yet again was making you sick, so why make it longer. What had to happen was going to happen, whether you had come here or not, whether you wanted it or not. That night on the phone, on the floor, you hadn't been wrong, and your guts knew it all the time. You can't trust a drunk. Especially not one that has proven to always find a method for getting his way, because he is used to it and, if he has seen his ways work, why would he fucking change them? Even if those ways are lying, drinking, apologizing and repeating the circle, which is visibly wrong even to his eyes. He was not going to suppress one single step of the process if it always ended up in him not having to suppress one element of the resolution, those being you and booze cohabiting in his life. But he had to learn. And not for you, not only for you, but for himself. If his life revolved around getting away with his downfall by always finding the most particular excuses, what was going to happen in the future? When that practice was so intricately integrated  with his life that he no longer would be able to tell apart one thing from the other? That was definitely something you didn't want to experience with him and you weren't willing to put up with through the years, but that didn't mean the perspective of Duff ending up like that didn't break your heart. So if you had to be the first one who threw a bucket of ice-cold reality in his face, you would do it. 

You downed the only fucking shot you allowed yourself to have that night, because leaving a life behind took a courage you didn't think you had, and, for God's sake, he was the one who was not supposed to drink, not you. Then, you grabbed your purse, you stood up, put the sequins of Duff's favourite red dress in place and made your way out. You didn't even bother to look for him, you had tried to when you first arrived there, but it was unsuccessful. All that you got were condescendent looks from the staff as if you were a groupie and not a glimpse of his blond hair or any of his bandmates. And it's not like he didn't have it easy to find you, you had been sitting at the bar the whole evening. If he knew you were going to be there, which happened to be the case, he should have moved his ass and looked for you. But of course he was busy shaking hands and raising his elbow.

The fresh air of the night was relieving. It was November, but in downtown Los Angeles it was never really cold. You breathed in and breathed out just once, and started walking to your car. But a voice amongst them all made its way to your ears, clear as light and choking you as always. You stopped in your tracks.

Duff's hand held yours from behind, as if he wanted to stop you from taking a step you were not taking anymore. You were still, you didn't turn around, you were splitting in half. You were going to leave, you finally were, but he had to show up in the last fucking minute and ruin your power of will. Goddamn prick.

-Babe…--his voice was all but firm. He sounded scared but, if your ears didn’t deceive you... --I didn't know you were here. I… I haven't seen you.

He was sober. Now you turned around and faced the cause of your ruin. He looked good. His hair was all over the place, as usual, and he was wearing a leather jacket you’ swear you had seen on Slash before. But he looked small. His six feet four of frame looked incredibly small and frail. His eyes were all around like he didn't dare look at you but he didn't know where else to look at. His bottom lip almost imperceptibly trembling in spite of the careful smile he was trying to keep. His hand was still holding yours, but the grip was very light, as if he was scared of losing you, but willing to let you go if that was what you wanted.

-Were you leaving?--your silence, yet again, was an eloquent enough answer to his question --Why?

His voice was so low, so close to a whisper that you almost didn't notice the crack that came with it. Now his eyes were on you, and you knew he was waiting for an answer other than silence.

-Because, after three days of not knowing about you, it seems to me that two hours alone in a bar you wanted me to come to are more than enough.

-But I didn't see you. 

-Well you should have looked for me.

-I did! I looked for you, I swear to God, but I couldn't find you. I… I thought you had regretted.

“I have, Duff, I have regretted. That's why I'm leaving”. But you didn't tell him. He looked like he was stepping along the thin line that limits defeat. His shoulders were down, his eyes were glossy, his breaths were shallow and he was no longer trying to contain his shaking lip behind a smile. Instead, he just looked at you. And he kept trying.

-We can leave. We can go, now. As I promised. I don't have to go back in there for shit, I'm just done. We can go home and talk or sleep or eat or whatever you want to do. Anything. It's fine for me, I only want you to…

-I'm tired--your voice interrupted his with all the weight of the words he never let you speak - I'm really tired, Duff. I'm tired of you telling me that it's going to be okay, that you are going to make it better only to then show up crawling across the hall because you can't stand on your feet. I'm tired of not knowing about you for increasingly longer periods and when I do it's only via someone who wants me to pick you up from some bar or some fucking corner. I'm tired of having to cling to happier memories of happier times and fight the dread that comes with knowing that I won't be making any more of them, all of this while I clean the mess you made the night before. I'm tired of going on and on with the same circus, all over again. And I'm tired of waking up on my own, worried about you, but I'm scared shitless that some day I might wake up without you and not worry anymore because that's just "the way things are", "he'll come back" or "he won't". I can't do this, Duff, I can't lift the weight I have on my shoulders, I'm not strong enough.

You deflated like a balloon. That was all you had, every word you had to say left your body with an ease you would have never expected. And not even then you felt relieved in the slightest. But how could you feel relieved after telling the love of your life that he is hurting you beyond the point of repair? That's not nice, that's not even cathartic. It just brings emptiness. The only thing you could cling to and that had kept you company for so long, as nasty as it was, all the hate, all the sadness, all the soreness were gone now. Where there used to be an unspoken "No, things are not going to get better", now there remained the same sentence, but said, stated, now it was a fact, now it was a reality. Unspoken meant hope, because although there was no affirmation, there was no negation, and to that you would hold on for dear life even if it was red hot metal. But once spoken? Hopes are gone. And at that point your life was only fueled by hopes. That was the only reason you went to that party, that was the reason you waited for him on your birthday, that was what kept you holding on for months; hopes. All of them based on unspoken words that were now gone.

And he looked just as speechless as you. If before he had been balancing above defeat, you could almost swear that, by now, he was down the pit. His eyes were fixed on you, as if that was the place they only ever wanted to stay in, but he was unsuccessfully trying so hard to fight their will to be exposed to you. The eyes are the doors to the soul, and now he was the most vulnerable he had ever been. He didn’t want to be vulnerable. He wanted to be okay, and stand tall and be there for you when you needed him, he wanted to play that role. And if he ever let himself be vulnerable it could only be under the protection that the certainty of your love and your presence gave him. But lately he had done everything backwards. He had let the alcohol take over his insecurities and he had closed the door to you. And you had restlessly called and knocked and smashed it, but he had ignored the noise, and now the noise was over. You were leaving, you were done with it, you were done with him, and he miserably knew he couldn’t blame you. But he couldn’t blame himself either. Because, yes, it had been fully and entirely his fault, but, as he had told you the night before, guilt was a narrative he wouldn’t let himself drown in, because one thing he had learned was that drowning in a negative feeling only sends you further down, and he could not afford that under any circumstance, not if he really wanted to change.

You saw him pat the pockets in his jacket with a nearly desperate face, looking for something he most definitely couldn’t find. Then he looked in his jean pockets and grabbed from them the thing he was looking for, whatever it was. He handed it to you like a last strand, with the expression of one who is waiting for a death row pardon but is unsure it’s gonna come. It was a round metallic piece, not much bigger than a coin and not much smaller than a medal. It was golden and heavy, and on one side it had an inscription that read “24 hours”. You turned it around to see the opposite side of it, and the letters “A. A.” greeted you.

-I know it’s not much. I know. It’s��� This is not an apology. I don’t have one, no apology on Earth is valid for all of this. I just wanted to show you I mean it, I want to change, and want to get help and I’m getting it. It’s just one day, I went on Wednesday and then on Thursday they gave me this. I was going to give it to you at home, but now I don’t know if…

Your body crashed against his with such force you two almost lost balance and fell to the floor, but you genuinely wouldn’t have cared, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed. Your arms held him the tightest they physically could, and when he overcame the shock, his arms responded the same way. With your face buried in his chest, you hadn’t realized you had started crying, and your tears and your muffled sobs freely lost themselves in his clothes. He was not going to try, he was actually trying. This was far beyond a promise, this was an actual move for the first time in forever, this was the materialization of your hopes. You had spent so many hours and days and months unconsciously preparing yourself for the crash you sensed was gonna come, that you had forgotten that the chance of flying existed too. And it was indescribably better than you could have ever imagined. His lips whispered against your scalp the words that had made that long nightmare a bit less unbearable: “I love you, I love you, I love you”. It was not an “I’m gonna try”, because he was already trying and he didn’t have to tell you, you could see it now; it was not a “Thank you for a chance you are freely giving me”, because, unlike all the other times, today he was earning it. It was an “I love you for staying despite all the things I have put you through, I love you for trusting me, I love you for being so strong and I love you for having such capacity for pain but an always bigger capacity for love”. He loved you, and you loved him no matter what, but now more than ever. And, for the first time in ages, loving him didn’t hurt.

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