#alarm blocks to crawl onto that make noise when you stay on it for so long? can they hold items and use them like fireworks to shoot up?

[crystal-jack-asripines]

Trying to do anything but doom scroll refresh the QSMP pages terrified to see his little mustached face greyed out. I left BBH’s stream midway too when he and Foolish were dis fighting in the ring, and when I joined again they were singing the eggs songs in the school. The absolute DREAD that filled my stomach seeing so many eggs and so few parents and players around.

But Ramon will come back and everything will be… not fine, but they’ll have learned important lessons and won’t have to 200% alter the course of many player’s lives and choices

[capsteddybear]

Our Playlist: Let’s Stay Together - Al Green

Song lyrics: "Let's, let's stay together, Lovin' you whether, whether, Times are good or bad, happy or sad."

You wake up to Chris making weird noises in the bathroom. It's still dark and you turn to look at the clock and it's 4 o'clock in the morning. You groan and pull the blanket up to cover your face. Chris opens the door and exits the bathroom leaving the light on, but cracking the door open. You see his silhouette and he's walking like a zombie. He throws himself back onto the bed. You wrap your arm around his abs and you feel how warm he is. You rub his abs and ask "Chris, you feeling okay?"

He groans and throws his arms above his head and squeezes the pillow around his head. He coughs and clears his throat, his nose sounds stuffy too. "No, I don't think so."

You rub your eyes and get out of bed to go to the bathroom and grab the thermometer. You come back and sit on Chris' side of the bed. Chris sits up on his elbows while you check his temperature. You cup the side of his face and he moans at your touch. The thermometer beeps and it shows 102°. "Yeah, you got a fever." Chris throws himself back on the bed and coughs and moans. "Let me give you some medicine." You get up and head back to the bathroom and look in the medicine cabinet. You grab the bottle and pour some into the cup and walk back to Chris' side of the bed. Chris is laying on his side with his arm hanging off of the side of the bed. His hair is flopped forward and is covering his face you kneel down and brush it back. "Baby you gotta sit up and take this then you can sleep."

He groans and rolls onto his back before sitting up. You hand him the cup and as soon as the medicine touches his lips he makes a disgusted face, "It's nasty."

You put your head down and let out a little laugh, "come on, please drink it. It'll make you feel better."

He groans and quickly drinks it and hands you back the cup. "Thank you." He coughs and lays back down on the bed. You take the cup back to the bathroom before joining Chris back in bed. He tosses and turns for a bit before finally falling asleep.

============ =====

The next morning you wake up to your alarm beeping. You hear Chris moan and cough and pull the blanket over his head.

You whisper, "sorry." You quickly turn it off. Chris coughs again. You try to get up from the bed, but Chris reaches out for you.

He clears his throat before speaking. "Where are you going?"

You brush your hair back, "I gotta get ready for work, sweetie."

He moans and gives you a sad puppy stare, "but I'm dying."

You shake your head and laugh, "you are not dying. You just have a fever."

Chris throws his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes, "it feels like I'm dying."

You squeeze his hand, "I'll make you breakfast before I leave okay?"

He opens his eyes and smiles, "thank you."

You get up from the bed and make a quick breakfast for Chris before getting dressed for work. When you come out of the master bathroom to give Chris more medicine you don't see him in bed. You walk down the hallway and see him lying on the couch staring at the ceiling. "Why aren't you in bed?"

He moans and rolls over on the couch, "it's hot in there."

You pout and walk over to him and kneel down in front of him and brush his hair back that's blocking his face, "here drink this."

He moans and tries to roll away from you, but you stop him, "hey, come on, please don't do that. If you drink this I'll come home for lunch later." A tired smile appears on his face before he drinks the medicine. You take the cup from him and kiss his forehead, "thank you."

"I love you, y/n."

"I love you too. Breakfast is on the counter for whenever you're hungry. Take it easy and get some rest. I'll come back later to check up on you."

You head to work for a bit and come back home to check on Chris during your lunch break. As soon as you walk through the door you see Chris walking around barefoot and no shirt on hugging your blue comforter. "Oh my god, Chris. Why don't you have clothes on?"

He stops in the middle of the living room and brushes his hair back. He sighs, "(y/n), I missed you. I'm hot then I'm cold then hot again. I hate being sick."

You give him a sad look and walk up to him and hug him. "I know, I know, but you need to put some clothes on because you have a fever. I'll grab you a shirt and a pair of socks. I'll be right back." You give him a kiss on the cheek and he moans as soon as he feels your soft lips. You smile up at him before heading to the bedroom to grab his clothes. You come back to the living room and Chris is slouched on the couch. You tilt your head and give him a small smile and hand him his shirt and socks.

"Thank you." Chris puts them on and wraps himself up in your comforter and inhales. He groans and lets out a cough, "I know it smells like you, but I can't tell because my nose is stuffy." He lets out a fake cry.

You let out a laugh and cuddle up next to him on the couch. "Aww, I'm sorry." You lean in and give him a few quick kisses.

You feel him smile against your lips, "Hey, you'll get sick if you keep doing that."

"I don't care, you're too cute not to kiss. Plus you're my favorite coodie."

Chris lets out a soft laugh and cuddles closer to you. "I love you, (y/n)."

"I love you, Chris." As you caress his face. "I'm gonna make lunch, are you hungry?"

"Not really, I barely ate my breakfast. You go eat." He gives you a soft smile.

You kiss him on the cheek before heading to the kitchen. You make lunch for yourself and head back to the living room. You see Chris curled up on the couch with Dodger on his lap. "I've only been gone for 5 minutes and I've been replaced?"

Chris smiles and hugs Dodger, "He just jumped onto my lap. I'm not gonna deny his love."

You gasp, "wow, I see how it is." You take a seat on the couch.

Chris lets out a laugh and rests his head on your shoulder, "well hurry and finish your lunch so you can be my cuddle buddy."

You kiss him on the forehead before eating your lunch. You guys watch whatever random TV show Chris is watching as you enjoy your lunch.

"Okay, I gotta go back to work now."

Chris cuddles closer to you and gives you sad puppy eyes, "do you have to?"

You sigh, "yes, unfortunately my lunch break is over. It'll just be a couple of hours and I'll be back." You smile as you brush back his hair and plant a light kiss on his forehead. "You gotta take more medicine before I leave though."

Chris groans and covers his face with the comforter. You hear a muffled 'no' from him. You laugh and head to the bathroom to grab his medicine. When you come back Chris is laying out on the couch cuddling with the comforter.

"Hey you can sleep after you take this." You hand the medicine to Chris as he sits up and he makes a face before drinking it. "Thank you." He lays back down on the couch and snuggles up with your comforter.

He moans, "I love you, (y/n)."

"I love you too."

"Hurry back home."

You give him a kiss on the cheek, "Take a nap, okay?"

"Mmm, okay."

You turn down the TV before heading out the door back to work.

The second half of work few by quick. You were glad because you wanted to hurry back home to take care of Chris. When you pull into the driveway you see Chris standing outside wrapped up in your comforter.

You get out of your truck and walk up to Chris. "What are you doing outside? It's so cold out and you're sick with a fever."

"Dodger needed to go outside."

"And the backyard?"

He puts his head down, "I couldn't sleep and I miss you and I wanted you to come back home."

You wrap your arms around him and give him a small smile, "Hey I'm home now, can we please go inside? Its freezing." He nods his head and leads the way back inside. You call Dodger inside and he runs to the living room and sits on the couch. Chris follows you into the kitchen, "Are you hungry? Want soup for dinner?"

He leans against the kitchen counter still wrapped up in your comforter, "yes please."

You smile and plant a light kiss on his cheek, "okay." You prepare dinner as Chris keeps you company. After you guys finish eating dinner you both head to the living room to watch some TV. "Are you feeling any better?"

Chris brushes his hair back and sighs, "A little."

"A nice warm shower will help you feel better and relax."

Chris raises an eyebrow, "you gonna join me?"

You caress his face, "not this time, baby. I want you to get better first." He groans and rests his head on the armrest of the couch. "How about I give you a massage after your shower?"

You see a smile appear on his face. "okay." He gets up from the couch and walks down the hallway to the master bathroom. When he gets out of the shower he's wearing only his pajama pants and socks.

"You feel better?"

"Yes, I can breathe better now."

"Come here and lay down."

Chris crawls into bed and lays on his stomach and hugs the pillow that he's resting his head on. As soon as you start massaging his back he moans, "Shit, that feels really good."

"Shh, relax." You plant light kisses down his back.

"Mmmm, I am." You continue giving Chris a massage before he starts to fall asleep. Every once in awhile you hear small moans from him. You grab a small jar of vapor rub and rub some on his back. He hisses as soon as it touches him, "it's cold."

You whisper, "Shit, sorry." The next scoop you rub it in your hands to warm it up before spreading it on his back. "Better?"

He moans out a soft, "yes." You lean over him and plant a kiss on his cheek. After you're done with his massage you give him an old t shirt of his to put on so the vapor rub doesn't stain the bed sheets. You give him more medicine before he cuddles you. He whispers in your ear, "Thank you for taking care of me, (y/n). I love you."

You reach back and caress his face, "I love you too, Chris."

==== ======

The next morning you wake up and Chris isn't in bed. You make your way down the hallway and you sleep something cooking. As soon as you get to the kitchen you see Chris cooking breakfast.

You rub your eyes, "What are you doing up? You should be resting."

Chris turns around with a huge smile on his face, "Good morning. My fever broke so I'm cooking breakfast for my favorite nurse." He gives you a wink and turns back to continue cooking.

You walk up to him and touch his forehead, "Oh it did. I'm so relieved."

Chris turns to you and smiles, "So am I." You give him a kiss on the cheek. He laughs and pulls you back in, "after breakfast you owe me a shower."

You raise your eyebrow and bite your lip, "well then let's hurry up and eat."

[zevlors-tail]

Febuwhump Day 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!”

A/N: I can’t believe I just wrote this in one sitting. I know I’m super behind on Febuwhump, yikes...but I think this turned out pretty well! This got longer than I meant it to be, but then, so did most of the prompts in my drafts that I have for this month. This is actually my first time purposefully writing whump so I hope this was okay! Unedited btw, i’ll read it over in the morning.

TW: Burning building, explosions, second degree burns, mentions/descriptions of burn wounds, life or death situation, building collapse, concussed reader.

***

The first thing Hawks notices when he comes to is the foul taste in his mouth. It causes him to gag and cough with his eyes still closed, though that doesn’t help his situation much if at all. The smell of something burning sears the inside of his nostrils and clogs his lungs, and he finds it incredibly hard to breathe as he rolls over onto his side, eyes finally fluttering open.

The second thing he becomes acutely aware of is how hot he is. No...how hot the floor is. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to recall what he was doing down there anyways. If only that incessantly annoying ringing in his ears would stop-

Wait. Wait a minute...

An image of you flashes behind his eyelids as he blinks them shut harshly to block out the billowing cloud of smoke filling the room, and it all comes back to him in a whirlwind.

There were villains. High class villains. Not your every day run of the mill villains, but villains who could really pack a punch when fighting back. They had been occupying a small skyscraper at the time as their headquarters, and you and Hawks had partnered up to take them down after months of steak outs and observation. But something had gone wrong...very wrong. Those details were still a bit blurry, but Hawks remembers something akin to an explosion- a loud noise, the building shaking, and a blast that knocked him unconscious.

All of the sudden he’s hyper aware of what’s going on- and he realizes he needs to move fast if he’s going to get out of here alive. He’s at least twenty stories up in the air on unstable structures, his feathers and hair are singed, and his head is foggy after inhaling too much smoke. Luckily he can still move, and it doesn’t look like he’s been burned too severely, at least not yet. But the flames licking at the bottom of the closed door in front of him cause alarm bells to scream out in his head, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to think. He needs to find you so he can grab you and-

Ohhh, shit.

As he rolls over onto his other side, he can make out the outline of a figure lying on the floor, and he’s almost certain it’s you. None of the villains stuck around after blowing the place up anyways, and he can just barely see the dulled colors of your hero suit behind the thick screen of smoke.

“Fuck! Oh god, Y/N.”

You’re lying too still for your own good, and Hawks thinks he can see the beginning of what he can only assume to be fire slowly eating at the wall next to you. He wastes no time and flattens himself on his stomach, army crawling in your general direction to avoid the worst of the putrid air. It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing. He ignores the uncomfortable heat of his body and pushes onward, his movements still a little sluggish from getting knocked out cold. He’s not entirely sure if he can even use his feathers right now while they’re this singed, and furthermore, he hopes his wings aren’t completely out of commission; he’s going to need those if the both of you are going to make it out of this alive.

“Y/N!” he tries to shout, though it ends in a horrible sounding cough that comes from deep in his chest. As he draws nearer, he hears what sounds like creaking coming from above the two of you, and to his utter horror, the support beams under floor above you have burnt to a crisp and look like they’re ready to collapse any second. It had to have been a sheer miracle that the two of you weren’t already engulfed in flames yourselves. “Y/N! Come on, kid, you gotta get up! Move!”

Even as he tries to urgently get your attention his body seems to move on it’s own accord, and before he can stop himself, he sends a few feathers your way out of habit and concern that you might be crushed any second if he doesn’t move you somehow. It hurts like hell, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. This is by far the worst he’s felt when using his feathers, but it does pay off, and you’re lucky that he made the split decision to move you- no sooner had he scrambled back with you had the ceiling collapsed into the floor.

He turns to you while staying low to the ground, shaking you desperately and firmly smacking the side of your face with his hand in hopes of interrupting your forced slumber. It works but just barely, and Hawks watches as you try to take a deep breath but end up choking just as he had. He gives you a once-over while you struggle to breathe, eyes flitting over your form to assess any damage you may have taken- and to his dismay, there seems to be a good amount of it. The entire left side of your hero outfit is singed, bits of the fabric even burnt into your skin in certain places where the heat must have been too strong. You hadn’t been able to move away or protect yourself in your sleep, and the burns on your arm and leg can definitely attest to that. They’re second degree, at least; some of the fire must have actually made contact with your skin.

“Oh, fuck- Hey, look at me. Y/N, focus here!”

He leans over you to look at your eyes, and he doesn’t have to shine a light in them or have you follow his finger to know that you hit your head a little too hard. They’re glossy and unfocused, and you can’t find a single place on his face to fixate on. You just keep looking all over, and Hawks can clearly tell your concussed. 

Fucking great. He’s got to get you both out, and now.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” He nervously awaits an answer with eyes trained on you, and the second you start to talk he lets out a small breath of short-lived relief.

“Hawks...? Wha...” You look so out of it and dazed.

“So that’s a yes, thank god...” Before you try to ask anything else, he stops you in your tracks and shakes his head at you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- take it easy, alright? No questions, I just need you to listen and keep talking to me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about, I just need to know you’re awake and alive-” He pauses briefly to look around for something, anything he can do to escape.

There’s the door you both came from, the one that’s barely holding back the raging heat behind it- that’s a no-go. No way in hell is he trying to brave that. His wings won’t last five seconds in that, and you don’t have the means to protect yourself while you’re concussed. Another option is to try and escape through the hole in the floor that the ceiling caused...but that’s way too risky for the both of you as is, and it looks like flames are starting to creep in from that way, too. If he is going to take that route, he needs to do it soon. Maybe he can get to a staircase, or find a-

The sound of you moaning in pain cuts through his thoughts and his head whips back in your direction to find you grimacing and trying to move. “Ah ah- Don’t do that. Just keep talking, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta keep talkin’ to me. I’m gonna get us out of this mess, somehow...”

Panic starts to set in as he realizes his options are limited. Terror grips him in it’s icy stone-cold jaws as he comes to the conclusion that his odds of survival are even worse.

“Hawks...it hur’s...��� All you can do is roll your head back and forth and try to move, but your body just won’t cooperate with your mind.

“Fuck. Fuck! I know, I know...” His teeth grit together as he thinks, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Adrenaline is starting to kick in, and he’s desperate for anything at this point.

He still has no plan in mind when he makes another split second decision to move you from where you’re currently laying. The fire is only spreading up onto the carpeted floor the two of you are on, and the smoke is getting worse by the second; this room is a hot box with no ventilation at this point. He carefully picks you up and cradles you to his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you to both support your frame and shield you from the onslaught of unbearable heat. It forces him to take a few steps back, and he does his best to navigate through a screen of black without bumping into any furniture. He almost trips several times, but eventually he hits the opposite wall. Or, rather...

A window. Bingo.

“S’ tired...” you mumble. Your eyes are already fluttering, rolling to the back of your head as your limbs grow heavy in his arms.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep! Y/N!? Come on, stay awake!”

“C’n we go...home now?”

He doesn’t like how ragged your breathing sounds.

He almost chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, but his lungs are already full of tainted air to laugh, let alone breathe properly, so he scoffs instead- and instantly regrets it. Between fits of coughs, he presses his shoulder to the glass behind you both to test the temperature, and it’s much hotter than it should be. Part of the glass is already blown out to his right, but there’s not enough space to crawl out without the jagged edges of it tearing up his flesh and wings. But if he could somehow break it...

His feathers. He’ll have to use up more of them, but if he uses the bare minimum necessary to break the glass and saves the majority, he may be able to make it out the window and fly you both to safety. 

“We can’t go home yet,” he chokes out in response to you, finally. “I’m gonna get you out of here, and then you’re on your way to the hospital, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.” 

He knows that to be true, so long as he can actually manage this. He backs up as far as he can go without subjecting either of you to the hot flames now openly invading the room, the entryway having burnt to a crisp already. From where he stands now, he hopes there’s enough distance to create the amount of force needed to shatter that damn glass. After a quick estimate of how many feathers he can get away with using, he readies them, and it all boils down this moment. If he can’t do this, you’ll both die. Both of your lives are at stake, resting on his weary shoulders. He can do this.

He has to.

“Wanna go home...wanna go...” You’re just murmuring to yourself, and it really puts Hawks on edge.

He hears the glass shatter before he sees it. He stumbles forward, wings still securely wrapped around you, and all but falls out of the edge of the window right before the rest of the floor collapses in on itself. He hears the devastation behind him, feels sparks on his back where the holes of his shirt meet the beginnings of his wings. He knows if he had hesitated or stayed any longer, neither of you would be alive right now.

Replacing his hold on you with his arms, he lets his wings drift open and prays he didn’t overdo it with the feathers, begs whatever gods may be listening that the two of you can at least slow the fall somehow. And to his pure joy and bliss, his wings, though bleeding and burnt and painful, are still very much holding up and allowing him to fly.

Now if he can manage to get you to a hospital...you’ll be just fine.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Iced out - kinktober - day 19

Yoongi X reader - married Wax play, ice play, f!oral, unprotected sex

This had been the worst fight the two of you had had in a long time. Yoongi was due to set off on a new world tour within the next month and he kept bringing home the stress of rehearsals with him. Every time he came home he either collapsed on the sofa and stayed there until long after you gone to bed, or forced himself through dinner with you snapping at you when you asked questions he deemed too overwhelming for his current mental state. You know he didn’t mean it, often apologising as soon as he realises how short he had been with you, but after two weeks you’d had enough.

“STOP IT!” you shout after the twelfth grumbled reply of the evening “You have been awful to me for weeks now, and I get it you are stressed but did you ever think maybe I have bad days too?” he glances up at you from under his bangs before excusing himself from the table and locking himself in his home studio. You let out an exasperated sigh before throwing the empty plates into the sink, chipping one in the process. The flood gates opened then, and you retreated to your shared bedroom, safe in the knowledge that your husband would not come to bed until after he was sure you were asleep.

You must’ve passed out while crying. When you awoke the sun was streaming through the crack in the blinds, Yoongi no where to be found. He must have come in at some point though because your jeans had been removed, and you were tucked in with your favourite blanket and the teddy bear he bought you for your first date. You cuddle the small toy close before unravelling yourself and going in search of your missing spouse. You walk out into the living room but he’s not on the sofa. You search further into the house, heading for his musical sanctuary. That’s where you find him. Curled up on the small leather sofa in the corner usually reserved for when you want to watch him work. Soft snores fall from his mouth, he looks so peaceful there, finally relaxed. You crouch by his side and try to wake him, eager to sort through any lingering contempt from the night before. However, when he doesn’t stir, an evil idea forms in your head.

You run back to the kitchen to receive your weapon of choice. The ice cubes burn your hand a little as you rush back to mess with the man you love. When you return, he has turned in his sleep, giving you the perfect access to your target. You almost abort the plan when you see his angelic face, mouth slightly agape, he just looks so cute. But the ice is staring to drip out of our hand so its now or never. You take one of the cubes and rub it gently along the back of his neck. He lets out a small moan in protest to the damp sensation. The noise only spurs on your mischievous replacement for an alarm clock. You drop two ice cubes down his back, knowing how sensitive he is. The sudden damp wakes him up immediately and you rush to hide the evidence, slipping the remaining ice cubes into your mouth, not having an exit strategy for him awaking so fast.

The bleary man eyes you suspiciously, looking at your blown-out chipmunk cheeks. While tired he is not stupid. His eyes squint as his hand reaches out to push your cheeks together. One of the cubes falls out of your mouth and he laughs shaking his head at your antics, felling the tension break between the two of you. You stick your tongue out, the last remaining block of ice proudly sat in the middle. He pulls you in to kiss you. The two of you pass the cold shard back and forth until nothing remains. You pull away a little breathless, resting your forehead against his.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you baby” you whisper, genuinely sad that you’d snapped knowing how hard he’d been working.

“Don’t be silly, it’s all on me. I should never be that short with you ever. I love you far too much to ever make you that upset.” His hand caresses the side of your face as you cling to him, happy to finally be talking through the rising resentment.

“I love you too… so much” tears sting your eyes again when you think about how much your going to miss him when he goes on tour, knowing that part of the argument was pushing each other away in preparation for the long separation.

“Come with me?” he asks for what must be the hundredth time since the tour was announced. You sigh about to refuse again, you couldn’t just up and leave your job and friends, especially with how busy he would be, but his lips press against yours to halt your response. “Please, I don’t want to leave you again, I can’t” his eyes plead with yours, a sadness planted deep within them.

“Maybe” your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all he needs for now “Maybe for a little bit of the tour at least” you clarify, but it doesn’t matter, because he knows you, once your resolve budges an inch he can run with it for a mile. He sweeps you into his arms, all sleepiness worn off. He carries you back to your bedroom as you squeal for him to release you. He dumps you on the bed and is instantly covering your body with his. He places kisses along your chin and down your throat before pulling your hands away from your sides and above your head. He secures them with the handcuffs that had become a permanent fixture to your headrest.

“Now I think it’s time to get you back for the rather rude awakening this morning.” He pulls your shirt up your body, so it pools around your extended arms and crawls back off the bed. Reaching into your box of toys he pulls out a candle and lighter. “Fire for ice… what do you think Jagi” his voice dropped an octave as he set the wick alight and waited for wax to start dripping from the top. You squirm in anticipation as he moves the candle over your body. He tests the temperature on his own skin before letting it hang freely over your stomach.

*drip*

The first splatter of warmth hits your stomach and you let out a moan.

*drip*

*drip*

The next two hit your thighs, close to your core. His free hand moves to play with the drying wax connecting the small trail of dots, his fingers getting dangerously close to where you wanted them most before he pulled them away and moved the candle to a new target. The wax was flowing a little quicker now, he took the opportunity to write his initials across your chest before blowing out the flame and placing the candle on the heatproof mat on your dresser. He signals you to stay still and exits the room. You close your eyes awaiting his return, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wax on your skin.

You hear him return but don’t bother to look. Your trust in him is complete, unwavering. A trust you regret just a little when the ice I dragged slowly across your heated flesh. Your eyes fly open, glaring at the cocky smirk now on his face.

“What happened to the fire?” you question trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably. His freezing touch prevents you from actually being upset. Too turned on to even keep up your fake argument. He pulls the cube down from between your breasts to your pussy, holding it just above your slit and letting the cool water mix in with your juices. When that cube was gone Yoongi reached for another one from a glass on the side. Placing it on his tongue he tucked his head between your legs and blew a cold wind over your still heated skin. One arm wrapped around your thigh the other snaking underneath him to play with your folds. Once his mouth is almost as cold as the ice he licks up your slit before sucking on your clit.

The severe temperature shift made you shiver with pleasure. His mouth moves expertly against your clit, drawing nonsensical shapes in your skin. Two of his fingers tease your entrance, their tips dancing in and out of you but never enough to cause the stretching burn you craved from them. Your about to whine for what you want, not above begging after the taunting he had put you through, when he surprises you by pushing three of his digits inside. You let out a high squeak at the sudden intrusion, the burn almost too much. Almost. You grind down as far as the handcuffs will let you. He chuckles at your eager reaction, pulling his hand back as much as far as you advanced.

“Please” the plea left your mouth almost involuntarily. He pumps his fingers languidly in and out. His digits curve expertly against your sweet spot.

“Please what Jagi… tell me what you need” he places kisses on your thighs and waits for your response.

“Fuck me… hard, make me cum hard all over your cock” your filthy mouth makes it impossible for him to hold back any longer. He rips his fingers from you almost painfully. He unlocks your hands, flips you over, and removes his pants. You grip onto the pillows as he lines himself up. He thrusts into you hard, pistoning his hips like a man gone mad. The feeling is incredible. One hand reaches round to play with your clit as the other wraps in your hair pulling you up flush against him. He places small kisses along your shoulders in between the grunts leaving his mouth. Your orgasm builds quickly in this position. The combination of the angle and his ministrations on the bundle of nerves between your legs has you almost screaming as the pleasure overtakes you, your husband not far behind as his hips stutter.

He cuddles you close as the two of you fall to the mattress, exhausted. When your highs fade, he moves to grab your recover kit, using a plastic card to remove the dried wax from your skin and rubbing the areas with a soothing moisturiser. He places kisses to the slightly pink skin and pulls you favourite blanket back around the two of you as you fall into a late morning nap. Back in his arms where you belong.

Masterlist

Taglist

@adventuresinwonderlust @thedarkwinterrose @samros95

[crimson-dxwn]

AT ODDS 6 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)

Summary: Tea gets spilled at Kyrimorut. Ordo gets involved. Ori makes a choice and a new enemy.

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one), medical shit, surgery, fucking SADS

As always, so many thanks to @detroitbydark who lets me screech about my weird fic and Kal and Ori! Also this is barely edited be kind, I’m on my psych rotation and barely scraping by. 

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Kal realizes he’s slipped the figurine into the pocket of his bodysuit semi-consciously in his hasty retreat from the apartment. Knotted Jonah wood whittled smooth forms two stylized figures, one large and one small, their hands joined between them. 

He barely registers the ride back home and comming Mij. They need a plan, and they need one fast if they are going to find her. He knows little about how the Empire treats their prisoners compared to the late Republic, but he isn’t about to have any illusions of honor or fair play. After all, he doesn’t play fair himself. But there’s a hydrospanner thrown into the mix. What he doesn’t know is how the Imps treat prisoners with … unique health conditions. Or if they even give half a bantha’s shebs. Odds are they send men and women alike to those osik’la camps he’s gotten word of. Yeah, the Empire was equal opportunity like that. 

If Mereel can’t slice into the system remotely, they were going to have to do an old-fashioned infiltration. He’d ask his ad’ike if they were up to task, there’s no way he could ask to put them in danger, not after the entirety of their lives being war. It hurts him to even think about asking. But he has to do this, even if it’s just his sorry shebs. 

He tries to put on a good Sabaac face when he’s back in the karyai, discreetly gathering up all the surplus weapons they have that he finds might be useful for an infiltration into a heavily armed and fortified position. 

Mereel of course, catches on within minutes. 

“You’re going to find her,” Mereel interrupts. Kal yanks his head up out of the gun locker to look at his son. “And you didn’t even think to ask for backup?”

His son’s tone is accusing, edging on hurt. That he did not expect.

“It’s my fuckup, son,” he replies, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“What’s so special about this doctor?” Mereel slams the door of the locker shut. It’s obvious his ad’ika is protective. They all are. 

“She delivered your ba’vodu’ad, Mereel. I’m pretty sure she saved Parja’s life.” Kal says, keeping his eyes on his work, cleaning the weapons, arranging the ammo he needs. Sharpening his father’s three-sided knife. 

“And that’s enough to go up against the Empire? ”

He’s going to have to spit it out. Mereel is looking at him expectantly, sure that he’s going to change his mind, see reason. 

“She’s pregnant, son.” Mereel, who has been away for the events of the last few months, just stares back at him in a puzzled fashion, brows slightly furrowed. Looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Maybe he has. 

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

In comes a second voice, and the accusatory tone startles him enough that, when added to his baseline urgency and anxiety, causes his hand to slip and nick itself as he sharpens his knife. 

“Osik,” he hisses, holding pressure to the cut as blood wells, looking up to the figure in the doorway. Ordo. Mereel stares at his brother, unsure whether he is joking. Kal sighs. He should know better, trying to keep things from them. The last time he was successful at that was when they were four. 

“Does it matter?” 

“Maybe,” Ordo replies, just this edge of indignant, “is she carrying my vod?” 

A strange and protective piece of him flares at Ordo’s tone and Kal stands, still holding the cloth to his cut hand. 

“Most likely.”

“Then we need to get her back.” Ordo meets his eye finally and Kal nods, satisfied, and starts gathering ammo from the safes. This time Mereel moves to help, still in a rare state of stunned silence. 

By the time they’ve gathered what they need and loaded it into aayhan, Mereel has a willing team assembled and what they know of the building schematics up on a datapad in the karyai. Fortunately for them, the team won’t be breaking into any prison blocks, which are bound to be heavily guarded. 

“All we have to do is get into the information security room that houses the main terminal,” Mereel starts confidently. “We can stay far away from the security blocks and the bucketheads.” 

“Though it would be fun to bust some vode out of there,” Scorch adds. 

“Not our mission,” says Mereel, regret plain in his voice, “we’ll have to get them another time.” The realization that they were leaving prisoners at the mercy of the empire sobers the group even more. It was becoming more and more apparent that more planning was needed before they could root out the Empire on Mandalore. Meanwhile, Kal had set Uthan to the task of trying desperately to make their own homebrew vaccine. 

---

It’s been many many years since he’s fastroped. Lately, he has been finding that it’s been years since he’s done many things. Fastroping, underwater diving...fathering kriffing kids. He swallows, hard and regroups himself. Every single one of them needs to be focused if they’re gonna pull this job off. 

Yes, he’s fast roped before. But he’s never liked it. Where his sons get twitchy when confined to tight spaces, he finds himself sweating more than usual under his beskar the more stories they climb. Right now, they’re about ten stories up, far above the sensors of the garrison and way above his tolerance for heights. They have about a minute to pull this off before the Imps realize this transport is lingering too long in their airspace. 

Mereel, Sev, Scorch, and Kal are in Aayhan, hovering silently above the Keldabe imperial garrison in the inky black late summer night. The humidity sticks his tactical garments to his skin, making it itch and crawl in addition to his surging adrenaline. That was one thing that never changed, no matter how old he got, no matter how many missions he’s finished - that nauseating spike of pure fear and bliss. 

He gives the signal to move move move and soon he’s roping down, strong north Mandalorian wind whipping around him, soaking through his underlayer. The four of them land silently on the roof of the compound, and Scorch starts laying a strip charge along the floor to create a hole leading below, straight into the admin offices. Four sets of Mando armor gleam lowly in the moonlight. It’s a perfect night for an op like this, whipping wind obscuring any slight noise they did make and the faint whine of aayhan’s engines. The charges detonate with a controlled bang and flash of bright light that briefly blinds his HUD. Kal switches to night vision.

*His child*. It’s barely a concrete concept in his mind yet, but an instinctual piece of him knows the truth. The timing is too perfect for him to be wrong. The way Orla had looked at him in the med center…

The stakes are too high to fail, and distracting thoughts get men killed. Mereel leads the way through the door, rifle at the ready, and Kal banishes his musings to the back of his mind, pushed away by a fresh rush of adrenaline. It’s a stealth mission, and they navigate by night vision, as silently as their boots will allow. 

They stalk through dark quiet hallways lined with innocuous office doors until they reach the end, what is presumably the CO’s office, with its durasteel double doors and obviously larger size. 

Mereel starts in on slicing the door panel while Sev shoots out the camera in the hallway corner while the rest of them listen for any approaching patrols. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed they were there, whether it was the hole in the roof or the blacked out camera. The double doors open quietly and they head inside. Vau’s boys guard the door while he and Mereel crowd the desk in the middle of the room. 

“I need a few minutes to get into this,” Mereel says, eyes locked onto the screen before him. One of his slicing tools is between his teeth.

“You’ll get it, son. We’ll take care of anything that tries to get in our way.” 

So far it looks like no one has noticed them. The imps must really be confident in the plan to neutralize Mandalore with so few guards and patrols. Sweat drops trickle down the back of his neck and into his bodysuit.

Mereel studies the datapad stripping the system for a few more moments and turns it towards Kal. There’s a concerned look stretched across his handsome face. Together the watch the recorded scene on the screen before them. 

There’s Orla, still in her work clothes, talking with an Imp who’s behind this very desk, flanked by two stormtroopers. He knows those gestures - she’s spitting mad, barely containing the fury that was directed toward the man behind the desk. Without audio he can only guess as to the contents of their conversation. The Imp behind the desk gives a short reply and nods curtly to the right-hand trooper who, without hesitation, raises his blaster rifle and cracks her across the face with the butt end. She doesn’t even see it coming. Even in the shades of blue from the holoprojector the blood is obvious, trickling down the side of her face. 

Kal is livid, trembling so finely it’s barely visible, and he almost forgets where they are for a moment. Deep in enemy territory, with hostiles incoming any minute. 

Mereel makes a disgusted noise from deep in his chest as they watch her be pushed to the ground. They follow the video feed where she’s led to a cell. His breath catches. There’s a chance she’s still here. His hope is tempered, however, when an alarm starts to sound from within the garrison. A patrol must have finally found their breach point.

“Sarge?” warns a voice from outside the door. It’s Sev, by the gravelly tone. 

“Almost finished,” he shouts, over the screeching din. Mereel continues to work furiously, his bulk hunched over the console. He’s able to parse through incredible amounts of data with immense precision; Kal can practically feel the concentration rolling off him. 

“Wait,” Mereel says. Kal looks over at the screen. They’re centered on a video feed again, this time outside. The sheer amount of prisoners in line for the transport is shocking enough, but the fact that none of them are in armor is even more appalling. The Imps are slowly stripping their culture away, plate by plate. 

“She’s not on the manifest for this transport, even though the records say she leaves.” 

It doesn’t make sense. Unless… Kal knows Mereel must be thinking the same as him. Judging by the brutality of the footage they’ve watched, the stories from around the planet, he wouldn’t put it past the Empire to take care of a pesky problem in the easiest way they knew how. It wasn’t something that supposedly peaceful, orderly governments liked to keep records of. His dread and guilt intensifies, leadening his limbs already weighed down by heavy beskar. 

He chokes the words out. He has to know. “Is there any footage of…” Kal can’t bring himself to say them. It doesn’t need to be said, Mereel knows what he’s looking for. He’s been in a war zone long enough to know that armies aren’t sentimental. 

“No, no footage. Just them leading her away.” The alarm continues to blare. It could be minutes, seconds before they have to blast their way out. 

“Here.”

Kal steels himself to watch. It’s his fault, he reminds himself again. Two more fresh marks in his ledger. His arm reaches automatically to his son’s to steady himself. He feels Mereel’s slump ever so slightly, whether it’s in relief or defeat, he can’t tell. 

“I have what I need,” he says, “time to go. Debrief can wait for later.” Distant footsteps start to echo towards them, modulated shouts following close behind. They were about to be grossly outnumbered, by the sound of it. Kal shoves his helmet back on, heading through the doorway and signaling Sev and Scorch to follow. 

They wind through the garrison, avoiding both patrols and squads of stormtroopers sweeping the building. It’s laughably easy compared some of the other heists they’ve pulled - except he speaks too soon. As they make their way out of the back door of the garrison onto the Keldabe streets, one squad catches up to them. Ordo has aayhan back at Kyrimorut - earlier they had decided it was too risky for the four of them to fly home and possibly expose the homestead. So instead their plan was to run the winding streets and strategically borrow a transport. The problem is that Kal is pushing sixty and the other men are - physiologically at least - still in their early twenties. They’re a lot kriffing faster than him, even with his ankle fixed. 

The streets and alleys twist and turn, switching from ancient cobbles to smooth duracrete without warning. Easy enough to get lost if you’re a local, they are impossible to navigate as aruettiise. Soon the four are panting, ducked into an alcove off a cobbled alley. Finally, it seems they’ve dodged the patrol. Only time will tell if they were recognized. Kal finds he doesn’t much mind if they know his face. In fact, he hopes they do. He wants to meet that garrison officer. 

-------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Weeks later

19 BBY

Life isn’t all doom and gloom. They are kept...occupied. Like rats in a maze. Ori shares a bunk with another Mandalorian, the only other there. Taren is a kid really, small and slight except for her distended belly. It’s obvious she’s used to wearing armor by the way she walks, how upright she holds herself, arms swaying slightly away from her body. And how she closes in on herself when she realizes it’s not there, when it’s nighttime in their room and thinks Ori can’t hear her sob breathlessly into her pillow every night. 

It’s almost childish, the way they’re herded from room to room. Chaperoned and on a schedule, like one would handle a naughty child needing extra discipline. It was how she imagines Coruscanti boarding schools some of her medical school classmates attended - polished stone floors and crisp uniforms, all strict routines and synchronized repetition. It’s meant to numb the mind, making days run into weeks. She suspects they’re kept intentionally disoriented. After all, most of them are still political prisoners, and many she’s found have important connections on their respective homeworlds. 

They’re at lunch, scattered around their assigned tables. Generously, they are allowed to converse during meals, though their seats remain assigned. The ‘rehab center’ has proven to be much more expansive than she expected - some rooms are swallowingly large, like the one she is in now, and some are as small as a broom closet, connected by narrow winding hallways. The building itself could have been any number of things in a past life - a school, factory, or prison. She supposes it doesn’t matter much now. Today there’s a newcomer, sitting quiet and sullen at a back table with the Corellians. Time would tell if she was one of them or if she hailed from a different world. 

An arm jostles her, hitting her square in the ribs. It successfully knocks her out of her analysis of the newcomer. 

“-did you hear what I just said?” Taren says, mouth full of tasteless nutritional paste. It’s far from delicious, but you ate what they give out and she is hungry *all the time* nowadays. A fleck lands on Ori’s face and she wipes it away with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, al’verde.” Commander. Her eyes roll automatically. She knows she doesn’t deserve the title. Discreetly, Ori shushes the younger woman - they’re lucky the stormtroopers here don’t understand Mando’a. 

They put together kit for new stormtroopers, morning and night. It’s another endurable humiliation. She stabs at the cubes bitterly with her spoon, scattering crumbs across the table. They’re not allowed forks or knives, not after Taren’s first week. A tiny smile flits across her face as she thinks on the memory. 

 Ori feels like a geriatric compared to the spry warrior, though they’re less than ten years apart in age. She’s seen things in that time, lost people, buried dreams. Though Taren is looking older and older by the day, cooped up in this place. 

“Theera is gone,” Taren says, “she wasn’t at breakfast either.” 

Looking around and finding no sign of the woman, Ori hums an agreement. She’ll be gone for good soon, and her baby as well. Every time someone delivers it sends a sense of unshakeable dread down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. All of them are marching slowly towards that finish line. 

The artificial hierarchy into which they are forced has made the two Mandalorians de facto leaders, despite Ori being one of the newer inmates and to cement her as *alverde*; her medical expertise makes her invaluable. 

The room hushes as Dr. Loesch sweeps down to the cafeteria, all business in crisp grey scrubs, so confident in his admiration. He insists they call him ‘Doctor L’ like he’s a popular lecturer at a university. He’s the worst kind of hut’uun, just as bad as the rest of the Imps she’s met here. Loesch is in charge of their medical care, all 100-some of them, including herself. Loesch towers over most of them, even herself. 

As a physician, Ori is personally insulted at his complacency, the fact that he is perfectly content in his post and cemented in his belief that what he was doing is just, his complicity. She stabs at her cubes some more to try and make herself feel better. 

As a woman, she’s decidedly less surprised. Men like him are everywhere, tall and handsome, handed success on a silver platter, born into families of privilege and power. Taking and taking with no thought of the carnage they leave behind. 

He saunters his way over to their table and sits with a charming smile. 

“Beviin,” he starts, “I heard through the gossip chain that you were an obstetrician before you came here?”

It’s physically painful to keep her retort in hand. She’s been here long enough to see women sent to solitary. And to see them come back, changed indefinitely. 

“Mmm,” she mumbles affirmatively through a mouthful of cubes. She swallows. “Yes.” Keep it simple, that’s easy enough. 

He smiles sardonically. “How ironic,” he adds, obviously pleased with the revelation. Expectantly, he looks around the table to gauge his joke, and they catch on, laughing softly, nervously, afraid of what might happen if they don’t. Even Ori joins in, the butt of the low blow, though her simmering rage ratchets up another level.

They finish the rest of their lunch largely in silence and Loesch pulls her away when she files out with the others. 

“Ms. Beviin,” he says conspiratorially, “I know it must be difficult for you to be here.” 

The man over her, face too close for comfort, his voice deep and low. Alarm fills her as the other people in the room dwindle until it’s just the two of them and the scattered troopers on the upper level. All Ori can think about is where the nearest exit is located when she realizes he’s still speaking to her. 

“...what do you think?” He waits patiently, a benevolent expression in his face. He blinks too little, she thinks, and his eyes are devoid of expression, shining with an amused sort of malevolence. They’re a strange shade of brown...no, green? The little noise he makes in the back of his throat brings her back to their conversation.

“Ah...sure?” she replies weakly, stunned and frozen.

“That’ll be nice for the other inmates,” he says. Incredibly white, straight teeth flash as he smiles down at her. “I think it will give them comfort to have you there. I’ll have the guards collect you when it’s time.” 

——

Three nurses eye her from across the suite. They wear sweet matching hospital uniforms, in the same soft fabric as hers except in a delicate petal pink. With a pang, she misses her fellow nurses and doctors on Mandalore. Who knows how many had fallen ill? Been arrested? The way they clustered in a little group reminded her of her schoolmates, when they found out she didn’t like fighting, whispering rumors from across the room. That she thought she was better than them, that weird girl who was more concerned with grades than winning fights and impressing boys. Now they stand across the room from her like a little bunch of flowers in their coordinated outfits, identical and perfect. She’s an other in their world, someone to be feared and hated, pitied at best. 

Orla stands awkwardly, waiting for the show to start when her stomach flips. The scrub top she has on stretches across her middle awkwardly, pulling at the seams and the soft shoes that cover her feet are obscured by her bump. The strange sensation returns, a little differently this time, just the barest flutter, deeper down than that nervous feeling. Her baby. She lays a gentle palm over the swell, as discreetly as she can, still feeling the scrutinizing looks of the women across the room.

Another nurse wheels a bed into the room, complete with Theera shivering atop it, her hair and gown drenched in sweat. Orla rushes to the head of the bed as she’s prepped for the operation. Theera is dazed, too exhausted to make much sense of anything right now, glassy eyes focused on the ceiling. She smoothes back the sweaty hair from Theera’s forehead. 

“Hey cyar’ika. It’s Ori,” she says softly. The woman’s eyes focus a little, just enough to meet hers. She bumps their foreheads together. It was as much to comfort herself as much as the other woman. Non-mandos typically didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. She can’t squeeze her hand like she wants to - it’s being hooked up to IV tubing.

“I’m cold,” she mumbles. Some of it is adrenaline, some from fear, and the rest from the icy operating room temperature to keep the surgeons comfortable. Drenched as she is, it’s no wonder Theera is shivering. 

Ori asks the wary tech for a warm blanket, terrified of overstepping and getting her shebs kicked out of the operating room. She’s promptly ignored in favor of his work. Dr. Loesch enters the room and the nurses titter around him while he ensures everything is prepped to his liking. Ori settles for as much skin to skin contact as she can get with Theera, trying to warm her, mumbling comforting nonsense into her ear as Loesch starts to work. A warming bassinet waits ominously against the wall for its prize. 

A thin cry interrupts their mumbling and Theera’s eyes sharpen at the noise. Loesch holds the little thing over the curtain separating them indulgently, just for a moment. A boy, he says, and she and Theera find themselves mesmerized by the bloody little thing and his tiny squished face and flailing arms, already so angry at the world. He’s held up for a second, allowing Theera a cursory glance and then whisked away by the nurses to the bassinet. His mother is still paralyzed on the table and it makes it all the more unjust that she isn’t even allowed to touch her son, see him up close. The nurses at the bassinet laugh and coo, oblivious to Theera, who starts weeping pitifully. Fat tears slide down the side of her face, wetting the starched white sheet beneath her head.

Ori is in the middle of the absolute emotional chaos around her. Theera crying, Dr. Loesch talking with his assistant about weekend plans, and the nurses with the baby, who have turned back at the sound of crying to glare at them judgementally. She can practically hear them now. Serves her right, their looks say. She deserves it. The rage congeals around Ori, settling itself in her throat. This feeling is exactly what had put her in this place to begin with and she knows she has to control it, use it somehow. She watches them place a little bracelet around the infant’s ankle and scan it into a datapad. They don’t bother with Theera. It dawns on her then that if she’s lucky - incredibly lucky - she can use the Empire’s obsession with order against them. 

She makes her way over to the bassinet under the ruse of joining the indulgent cooing that is going on, trying not to throw elbows before she’s kicked out of the room. The little boy’s leg is caught for a heel stick an she gets her chance. The number on the leg band is just visible, only for a second. She sends a prayer up to the Manda that she gets it right. 

Taglist

@clonewarslover55 @simping-for-fives @808tsuika @jedi-mando @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @fractiouskat @passionofthesith 

[witchygagirlwrites]

Best Friend (Part 2/3)

you and Kevin are best friends but when you start to fall for him you start pulling away until a life threatening situation urges you to confess how you feel

An alarm ripped through the firehouse before you heard Casey's voice "STRUCTURAL FIRE AT AN APARTMENT BUILDING. MULTIPLE INJURIES. LETS MOVE PEOPLE"

You grabbed your jacket and ran behind Brett to your rig and just slammed the door shut as she pulled out onto the road.

-----

At the same time you were responding to the call the intelligence was getting a notification saying it fit the m.o. of the arsonist they'd been after for the last two weeks.

"Now remember this isn't officially our scene until they have it cleared but let's roll out alot of these sickos like sticking around to watch their handy work we may hit it lucky and catch this asshole" Hank barked out as everyone grabbed their jackets and headed for the stairs.

-----

You were working through the triage area another Gabby had set up upon arriving to the scene.

So far the worse injury you'd seen was a broken femur. There was lots of cuts and luckily low degree burns but so far it was looking as if everyone had gotten out unscathed until a man around your age approached you.

He was wearing a ups uniform so it was clear he'd probably heard the news and headed straight here. You figured it would be a simple case of finding out the name of his loved ones and pointing him towards which tent.

-----

"Sir can I help you?" You asked and he nodded "My wife Jessica she's uh she's eight months pregnant. She was on bed rest where is she? We live in two fifteen"

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You had walked every inch of the traige area and hadn't seen a pregnant woman. "Sir can you just have a seat right here" you spoke keeping your voice calm from years of training it.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head "I'll go talk to him. You go tell Casey we've got someone still inside"

-----

You grabbed one of the bags out her rig that held a scba mask and fire blanket and threw it over your shoulder as you ran to where you'd last seen Matt.

You spotted Kelly first and hollered "SEVERIDE!"  He turned towards you so you told him "There's a woman eight months along inside. Apartment two fifteen" he nodded and headed back in calling across his radio.

You started back towards triage but heard a clanking noise like someone hitting on pipes and it occured to you these buildings had multiple emergency exits. She could be trapped and by the time you got one of the guys out to her it could be too late from smoke inhalation alone.

You pulled your radio from your side and tuned it to the channel they used to communicate inside "Um fellas I think i may have heard something near the north west corner"

A few moments passed and you heard the clanking again and no one had responded. Your only thought was a pregnant woman dying because you didn't do anything so without thinking of your own safety you headed in the direction of the noise carefully stepping over boards that had fallen from the fire burning two stories up.

"CALL OUT!" you hollered and heard a weak "I'm here!" and followed it. You pulled the scba mask out and put it over your face because the smoke was already to the point of making tears spring to your eyes.

-----

Meanwhile the scene two blocks from the fire was one of madness. Antonio had spotted the guy as soon as he parked his car and alerted the rest of the unit who eventually caught him after a foot chase.

Antonio, Hank and Al headed back to the station while everyone else continued to the fire to see if they could possibly help.

Time Kevin stepped out the car he spotted Brett and immediately looked for you as he walked towards her. When she looked up he smiled and pointed around "Where's my girl?"

Brett looked around then hollered at Gabby asking where you had ended up.

Gabby shrugged that she didn't know then spotted Casey walking out the building and asked him if he talked to you or if they'd found the pregnant woman. When the answer to both was a no the entire scene went into a panic.

-----

You carefully picked your way towards the sound of the plea for help and spotted legs pinned under a beam. You followed them and said a silent prayer at discovering her stomach was untouched.

You leaned down so she could see you and smiled "Jessica? Your husband is worried about you" she started crying at seeing she wasn't alone then started coughing. You immediately ripped the mask off yourself and helped her put it on then spread the fire blanket over her. "I'm gonna try to move these beams just stay still ok?" She nodded so you moved down to her legs where they were pinned.

You pulled the radio from your side and tried the line again "Fellas I'm in the north west corner near the rear emergency exit I've got a trapped female late twenties in her eight month. I need some help"

When no response came you groaned and slid it back on your side before deciding to try the beams.

You squatted down to get a good grip ignoring the burning starting in your lungs and how the heat was licking up your shoulders telling you the fire was getting close to where the two of you were.

You tried with everything you had but it only moved a couple inches no where near far enough to get her free.

You eased it back down and moved up to her side to access any other wounds. You asked questions around coughing and she nodded yes or no.

From what you could tell at least one of her legs were broken but the baby was moving at least.

There had been no noise from your radio so you tuned back to the line Gabby and Brett would hear and tried "Dawson, Brett. Get the boys. I'm trapped in the North West corner near the rear fire exit. I found the pregnant woman. Her legs are pinned and I'm guessing from the heat the fire is working towards us"

-----

Everyone went silent when Gabby yelled across "SHUT THE HELL UP!" and raised her radio so they could hear your voice. You were already gasping between each word from the smoke and warning the fire was headed your way which it was. She also knew you'd die before you left someone injured.

Kevin felt his heart drop hearing your voice. You tried to keep it strong but the way it broke at the end giving way to a cough felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Casey started barking out orders to the men to keep the fire pushed back from where you were then hollered for Kelly "Severide! You're with me" Kelly ran to his side and he looked back at Gabby "Keep her talking. We'll get to her"

-----

You had laid the radio down next to Jessica's legs and tried again to free them but it was to avail. If no one came you would both die. The burning in your lungs was getting worse and breathing was more of a task but Jessica was pregnant. There was no way you were taking the mask from her.

You were struggling to get enough air in your lungs as the surrounding area got even thicker in smoke clouding everything but Jessica from your line of view.

Suddenly the radio crackled and of all people you heard Kevin's voice come through "Sweetheart hasn't Otis told you if you wanted to play fireman you needed more training?"

You cracked a small smile and got enough smokey air into your lungs to say "Well you know me always the impatient one"

A wave of nausea hit you along with what felt like the start of a migraine and you had treated  inhalation victims enough to know it was officially setting in.

"Well just slow down. Severide and Casey are coming to you. The rest of the crew is working to keep the fire back" you nodded knowing he couldn't see you and moved up to check on Jessica. She was alert and staying calm like you'd asked. When you asked how her breathing was she nodded and focused on the breaths like you told her.

"Kev the smoke is getting really bad" you admitted breaking a little when you started counting in your head the amount of minutes you'd been in here hoping you'd gotten that mask on Jessica before the smoke got too much on her and the baby and knowing if they didn't get here soon the smoke could kill before the fire had a chance.

The sound of what you knew was more portions of the building collapsing ran through the space and you worried what would happen if enough fell to block the two of you from rescue.

-----

Kevin held the radio to his forehead taking a few deep breaths before trying to talk again. Your voice was getting a hoarseness to it Gabby said wasn't good.

He knew you well enough to know you were scared. Whether for yourself, the pregnant woman in your care or both of you he wasn't sure but he knew if you were scared it was bad.

"Kevin can you keep her talking?" Gabby asked and he nodded she added "Ask her about the pregnant woman keep her mind on something else"

Before he could hit the button on the radio to talk to you again a loud crack was heard followed by Otis shouting about the fire trying to break through.

He shook his head to keep his attention fully on you instead of the insanity of the scene "Sweetheart Gabby said how's your patient doing?"

-----

You were barely holding onto consciousness at the moment when Kevin's voice cracked across the radio again. Him asking how Jessica was stirred you enough that you crawled from where you'd been squatting at her feet up to her face.

Soot was covering the mask so you wiped it off and saw her eyes were wide but she was doing the breaths you'd showed her "How ya doing?" You asked grimacing at your own voice. "I'm scared" she finally admitted.

You leaned down closer to her and whispered "I am too but we just gotta hold tight"

She nodded and laid a hand on her belly. You followed it with your eyes and saw what was probably a foot moving back and forth across her belly and smiled weakly.

You pulled the radio up to your mouth and hit the button "She's holding tight"

-----

Kevin smiled when he heard your voice again. It was the best sound in the world and he just had to keep you going just a little longer. Kelly and Casey had reported they were almost to you but portions of the roof had collapsed barring their way.

"How bout you? How you doing?" He asked into the radio praying to anything listening that the firemen would get through to you in time.

"Chest hurts like hell" you breathed and he cut his eyes at Brett who mouthed "Smoke inhalation" and felt his stomach flip.

"Well how about I talk and you can just listen and let me know you're there ok?" He offered and Brett nodded that it was ok to go that route.

-----

You were checking Jessica's pulse trying to make sure her heart was beating where it should. When you were sure it was you spoke into the radio "You always did like to talk Kev" and had to block your mouth in your arm to keep the cough from gagging you.

He hesitated and said "Well you can't run from me now how's about you tell me why you been avoiding me? Do my breath smell bad or something?"

You almost laughed "Naw Kev you smell fine. I might not right now"

You leaned over on the wall close to Jessica's head keeping a hand on her pulse at all times.  "Well baby why then I miss you this is the longest we've talked in a while"

"Hard to explain Kev" you answered and leaned your bed back listening for any clue the boys were getting closer to the two of you.

-----

"Three more minutes Kev. That's all we need" Gabby whispered in his ear and he nodded.

He stepped away from everyone else to clear his own head. He had to keep his attention solely on you and only you. "Try me. I'm understanding and I know when Kelly and Casey get to you. You're gonna come out in boss mode ready to handle any and all injured out here and won't have time to talk to me till later"

------

You looked down at Jessica who was fighting to keep her eyes opened and shook her gently. She was breathing for two and even with the mask the smoke was getting to be too much. She opened her eyes and looked up at you "Who's on the radio?" "My friend" you answered and she nodded "Sounds as worried as my husband would be"

You knew another few minutes you would lose consciousness then Jessica would be right after you. You'd been breathing pure smoke for too long and god help if you passed out then her body decided the trauma was too much and her water broke.

"Kev I care about you so much" by this point you'd basically pulled Jessica's head into your lap. "I care about you too sweetheart" he answered quickly and you started coughing again using your arm to block it from Jessica.

Your eyes were drawn up and what you saw made your eyes widen. There was a large section of the floor overhead barely holding on. If a good gust of wind whipped through it would fall directly on top of the two of you.

You handed Jessica the radio and pointed up "I gotta try to move you. At least a little so hold onto the radio ok?" She nodded so you squatted again trying to use the wall as momentum to get her moved and smiled when the beam shifted enough you were able to get her legs free this time.

She cried out in pain and you saw her leg was twisted at the opposite angle it should be. You pulled her back a few more inches and moved down to check her lower half.

As far as you could find there was no open wounds. You had her free but there was no way you could get her out. You were too weak.

"Kev tell em I got her free" you breathed across the radio half collapsing next to her as you tried to get a breath that didn't burn.

-----

"SHE GOT HER FREE" Kevin hollered across to Hermman who reiterated across the radio.

Kevin's desperation cut through the air bringing you back to the bit of consciousness you were clinging to. Jessica had turned her head to look at you but she couldn't get up because of her leg and you just felt too weak.

-----

"You're doing great baby. Kelly got one more wall to get through and they'll be at you. Talk to me" he tried and when you didn't respond he felt his knees weaken "COME ON SWEETHEART ANSWER ME!"

"I love you kev. You need to know that" you spoke weakly into the radio right before you spotted a chunk of roof coming down headed for Jessica and dove blocking her face and chest with your body and felt darkness wash over you.

Kevin was dumbfounded. You just told him you loved him but was it how he loved you? Was it how he felt like he wasn't himself when the two of you didn't talk, was it how when he was with you he felt. Was it how he was standing there feeling completely helpless watching this burning burn knowing you were trapped inside?

Before he could respond to you Hermman hollered "EMTS GET READY THEY'RE COMING OUT!"

------

Kevin saw Casey first carrying a body and it was apparent from the bump that was the pregnant woman you'd went in after.

A man wearing a ups uniform ran forward as she was being loaded onto a gurney "Is she ok?" The woman ripped the scba mask off and pulled her husband into a hug "She saved me"

The woman was quickly loaded into another ambo that peeled out for med but Gabby and Slyvie were waiting on you. Kelly walked out with you in his arms. "DAWSON, BRETT SHE'S HURT AND NOT BREATHING"

Once he was clear of the building he laid you down and started cpr while Slyvie and Gabby ran forward.

Kevin hadn't realized he was moving until he felt Jay and Adam both grab him. "stay back man let them work" Adam pleaded but he couldn't. You were laying bleeding from the back of your head and you weren't breathing. He loved you more than just about anything in this world and now he wouldn't have the chance to tell you.

Otis and Hermman both joined the efforts to try to hold Kevin back. His eyes were glued to your still form and he felt his knees buckle out from underneath him when he heard Gabby holler "WE'RE LOSING HER"

[enigma-im]

Too Good at Goodbyes

Rating: Teen Relationship: Dragon x F!Human Warning: Communication, Breakup, Makeup, Past Abuse, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: 2370

       Breaking up with a stubborn dragon who isn't in agreement and demands confrontation.

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

Confrontation is such a scary thing. To verbally or physically confront someone is terrifying. Though I'd rather fight someone than explain my feelings, both are still scary. I just don't want to go over such mundane things like my feelings. If I know what the outcome is going to be then…what's the point?

Dracchus has always been a stubborn man. It's no surprise that he wouldn't take my leaving without a fight. Though leaving without much to say was mostly my bad. Packing up my stuff and walking away with a 'this isn't working' was a coward's way out, but I stand by it. It's true though, things haven't been working out with us lately. We have been distant and closed off from one another, the logical conclusion felt like just end it instead of prolonging the suffering. Right?

As I load into my car and I listen to his huffs and puffs-to put it lightly- I fight off the urge to turn back to him. I could at least talk with him, explain my side. I shake my head from the idea, noticing the redundancy of speaking when it's all over anyway. Dracchus marches around his cave, shouting and blowing smoke from his nose. It's almost cute the way he swats at it. He tries to walk towards the car but clenches his jaw and stomps away. His tail flicks with clear agitation.

I give one last look before opening the car door. As the click echoes up towards Dracchus he looks to me. Smoke bellows out his nostrils like a chimney, giving a terrifying look to his clenched up face.

"This isn't done," he calls out," but you can run for now."

I sigh at his theatrics," I'm sorry, Dracchus, it's over. It was fun while it lasted but now we just have to accept this."

"you are a fool," he sneers," coward above all else." I bite back the urge to yell, to call him worse names, though I know it's what he wants. The stubborn man wants me to react but I can't bring myself to give him the satisfaction.

"Bye, Dracchus," I sigh, getting into the car.

I drive off to my parent's house, trying my damndest to fight off the intrusive thoughts. It's over, it's done, no use thinking over it. I know I'll miss him, I know I'll want him around, but it would be pointless. Forget and move on, that's how all my relationships go.

I shut down as I pull into my parents' driveway, automatically grabbing my things and heading upstairs. I do all I can as a way to distract myself. Putting up my clothes, sorting through social media, playing games, making dinner. It all works for the most part, though I feel rather blank while doing it. My head feels like it's been system rebooted, wiped of previous bugs and glitches to start anew.

When I attempt to sleep that night is when my brain begins to wander. It's hard to escape yourself when all you have is your thoughts. I try putting on background noise, listening to the television in hopes of passing out to a random show. No such luck as flashbacks of our time together attempts to break me into sobs.

I hang on by a thread as I manage to rest, that is until there is a tapping at my window. I ignore it, rolling over with the blanket thrown over my head. The tapping starts again, getting more frequent till I angrily toss the covers aside and lunge for the curtains.

Tossing them aside to reveal the culprit I sigh at who I see. Though shrunken to fit on my roof, it's not hard to tell who it is.

"Dracchus," I sigh. I reach for the curtains, blocking out the problem like I've done all day. Before I get the chance he lifts the window, sliding it up enough to slither inside.

"Don't," he growls as he crawls onto the bed, backing me up until he has room.

" what are you doing here," I answer nearly defeated. It's exhausting to have him here, the feelings and thoughts knocking at the backdoor of my brain.

"to talk, that should be obvious," he answers," so are you going to answer my questions or do I have to drag you out your room to take you back to our house?" ire bubbles in my chest, latching onto the frayed nerves that he set off with his entrance. He has no business coming into my room like this. He is no longer my boyfriend or even my friend.

"What questions could you possibly have that couldn't wait till morning," I fold my arms, glaring at him with as much seething rage as I could.

"What questions? Have you not been listening," he scoffs," why did you break up with me? That's the main question. Why haven't you talked to me if you were so unhappy? Why ditch me so quickly? I thought everything was fine, but clearly, you haven't. so I ask why and what can we do to salvage this?"

"Salvage this," I bark in laughter," it's over, ok? I haven't been happy with you for a while and it felt best to end it. Is that such a difficult concept to understand? None of my exes had an issue with it."

"Because your exes were scum who didn't give a fuck about you, they took the out because they wanted the out. I do not want an out, I want to talk about this like fucking adults but you're too busy acting like a child," he chides. The insult actually stings, feeling more like a child in the tantrum boiling under my skin.

"I'm the child? Bold coming from a guy who sneaks in my room because he's too scared of my parents," I snap back.

"I'm not scared of your parents, they are scared of me. How well you think that will go over if I come to the front door and your dad is cocked and ready to blast off my limbs with his gun? No, this is between you and me anyway," he fires back. Which is true in its own way, my parents are very scared of him. Though it's fair in the beginning, it's rather dull minded now that they know him.

"No, there isn't a 'you and me', we are done. Why can't you just accept that? I don't want to be with you anymore, figure it out yourself," I say with finality. I roll over onto my side, throwing the blanket over myself in hopes he gets the message.

Dracchus doesn't stay down for long, reacting swiftly to my surprise. He grabs my shoulders and splays me on my back. His clawed hands frame my head as he hovers over me in an all too familiar position.

"I'd accept it if it didn't sound like a lie every time you said it," he growls, softening as he watches me a moment longer," please, love, what's wrong?"

Looking up at him is surprisingly difficult. The familiarity of this pulls at my heart. I want to reach up and grab his face, lead him down for a charred kiss. Taste the brimstone of his tongue, feel the heat as he enters my mouth. It's hard not to just grab him.

"Dracchus," I turn away, breaking whatever hold he has on my heart. Before I can continue he drops his hard head to my chest, growling to himself as he nuzzles up to my neck. The growling rolls into a purr as he fits so perfectly under my jaw.

"I just wanna talk, I don't wanna fight with you," he mumbles," what did I do wrong?"

I'm surprised by the shaky breath that comes out of my mouth. My heart is like rocks falling down a hole, echoing in beats but sucking into the chasm below. My body shivers in dread and panic as the door creaks open in my mind. This is what I wanted to avoid, this is what I've been fighting all day.

"Please," he begs again," I love you."

The three little words are what slams the door wide open. My eyes sting and my hands shake. It's almost fitting to have those words thrown back at me when it's what started this to being with. Hearing him say it so casually that day was so alarming. He meant them then as much as he does now. I hate it. I hate what it does to me.

"I-I," I try to speak," I'm scared." the honesty burns my throat like the words just barely scraped by.

Dracchus lifts away, staring down so concerned. "of me?"

I shake my head," of us."

"Us," he asks confused," love, you have to explain." I shake my head, biting my lip to stop the quivering. "I'm sorry but I can't help if I don't understand. It's ok, I won't hurt you or anything. I'm just here to listen." he nods, approving his own words, and gauging my reactions. As I refuse to answer he rolls off me, laying on his side while his tail twists me towards him. I can't help but clench at my shirt as he looks at me with such worry. His eyes drift to my fists before he grabs at a pillow and hands it to me. Like a lifeline, I clench it to my chest so tightly. It's calming, surprisingly. To snuggle around this pillow like a child while the familiar weight of his tail rests over my legs.

"you remember tony," I mumble, looking down at his chest.

"College Tony," he asks," He is the one who threw the book at you."

"yea, he was," I sigh," you know he was the first guy I ever said 'I love you' to."

He tail squeezes around my leg," no, I didn't know that." I take in the warmth of him, stealing courage in such a small gesture.

"Well, when I told him that, he wasn't very nice about it. He panicked and started yelling. I couldn't figure out why," I sniffle," it was confusing and alarming. Shortly afterward we broke up and it just tore me apart. That moment stuck with me for so long that when my next boyfriend said it I felt so trapped. I can't explain the weight that those three little words have over me but… it feels like a book hitting me in the face."

"so," he takes a breath," Is that why you broke up with those other guys? Because you were gaining feelings for them?"

I nod, taking shallow breaths to stray off the stinging in my eyes. It sounds so simple when he says it like it's silly to act that way. That's what relationships are for, developing feelings and growing with another. It just feels toxic to me, like poison corrupting my body with every step. I cared for them all, so I tried to stop caring. I broke it off and felt validated when they left so easily. They weren't worth it, I was right to end things. Now, with Dracchus, it's all wrong. He didn’t validate those feelings, he made it worse. He wanted to hear me, he wanted me to stick around, and that was too much.

"I'm sorry," I snivel, curling over my pillow as the dam breaks in my eyes. I bury my face against the soft fabric, wetting it as I shake and shutter. A warm hand grabs at my arms, hugging me close before rubbing over my back. His rough, warm touch breaks me at that moment.

Without much thought, I throw my leg over his waist and toss the pillow aside. I need him close, I need to feel him. I wrap myself around him, taking all he gives as I ball my eyes out. I didn't want any of this. I didn't want to cry against his chest while feeling utterly undeserving of it. Him giving his affection so freely feels like a trap. Surely no man, human or otherwise, wants to deal with a sobbing female.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against him, hiccupping at the end.

"it's fine, love," he noses at my hair, humming to himself as he does," take all the time you need."

His words are like a balm, though undeserved, it's greatly appreciated.

I cry myself dry and then some. The shutters dwindle the longer he pets at my back. This comfort is so new that I can't help but take it all in with great greed. I never knew how bad I needed this sort of comfort, this sort of care. It's what my heart has craved for years but I couldn't provide.

"Thanks," I say.

"no thanks needed," he licks at my cheek," I will be here for as long as you need me and more. I love you and will care for you always." I can't help but tilt up and grab at his face, pulling him in for a soft kiss. His rough, scaled lips meet mine in an all too familiar dance. It's slow, sweet, tender, everything I've wanted in a kiss.

"I love you," I murmur, stealing another kiss. He purrs, pulling me close as a smile spreads across his face.

"So, you coming back home," he asks. I don't want to answer him, instead of wanting to kiss him again. He keeps out of reach, waiting for my response with a teasing grin.

"yes," I sigh," I'm coming back home."

"good," he smiles," seems we could have strayed off this unnecessary unpacking and repacking if you just talked to me to begin with."

"shut up," I pap his chest," it's part of my process, you know I have the flair for the dramatics."

He laughs," as we both do." the teasing is nice, like falling back into a comforting routine. I snuggle up to him, a smile gracing my face along with his. I rest my eyes, a finger picking at the scales on his chest as I fall into sleep.

"I love you," he says lazily into the dark room.

"I love you, too, Dracchus." ----------------------------------------

If you haven’t noticed the dragon is named after a character from a Tiffany Robert’s book. Dracchus was a dope character.

Also, I have like a serious kink for communication in relationships. love me some non-toxic romance!

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[kyoomiii]

♡ Sleepless nights [hcs]

- ✎ characters ❝ akaashi, oikawa, and kenma ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): none  ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff ❞

❝ i apologize for the lack of activity, i was feeling a little bit of writers block  (*╯-╰)ノ ❞

-kyo  ♡

As the night carried on silently, the red light of Akaashi’s alarm clock seemed to glare back at you mockingly. Bright red highlighting 2:30am- the bold numbers driving you to what seemed like the edge of your breaking point.

You envied the boy next to you, who slept so peacefully, without a care in the world as if you weren’t currently struggling to keep your eyes shut long enough to drift off into your own personal dreamland. 

Even with his comforting warmth and the gentle rise and fall of his chest, your mind seems to drift elsewhere, swimming in a sea of empty thoughts that were about as important as nothing. And with those good for nothing thoughts, you begin to grow restless. Kicking off the blanket that draped over both your bodies as the room suddenly becomes much too warm for your liking.

Gently, you unwrap Akaashi’s arms from around your waist, even though you knew you’d miss his touch, but even so, you felt like staying in this one spot for much longer would surely drive you mad. 

With one last glance back at Akaashi, you quietly tip-toe out of his room, making your way down to the kitchen looking for something to eat in hopes that it would pass the time. 

Rummaging through the food-filled fridge, you become blissfully unaware of the lurking presence behind you.

But as their arms wrap around you, the sound of the fridge closing once you’re satisfied with your selections, you become guilty, knowing exactly whose warmth engulfed your body.

“It’s late…”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He seems content with that answer, simply nodding in understanding as he pulls away. It’s then, as you turn around to face him that you see his bleary hazy eyes clearly still out of it. 

It’s truly a sight to behold, and you find yourself staring at him wondering how someone could be so beautiful in the late hours of the night when there’s nothing but a single kitchen light displaying their princely features. 

Mid-yawn, he catches you staring as he moves across the kitchen to gather ingredients to make tea. His expression is unreadable, eyes catching your own causing your cheeks to flush. The feeling is painfully familiar, taking you back to the time in which the two of you would pin after one another in the form of stolen glances and shy words.

“You’re staring.”

“Only because you’re so pretty Keiji.”

It’s his turn to flush, cheeks dusting light pink as his face turns to avoid your gaze. A small but noticeable smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Not at pretty as you.”

Watching his back move between cups as you nibble on your chosen snack, you can’t help but feel completely at home in his presence. You smile, feeling your heart flutter as you watch him. It’s in moments like this that you treasure the most with Akaashi.

Turning back to you, in his hands a tray with two cups seated atop. He sets them down on the counter, once again the feeling of guilt building in your chest as you watch him yawn for the second time in the mere twenty minutes he’s been awake.

“I’m sorry for waking you up...”

“It’s fine.”

His smile is nothing but reassuring as he offers you one of the cups.

“Now perhaps this will make you sleepy.”

“Thank you, Keiji.”

“Of course, anything for you.”

Silence engulfs the stillness of the night, not a sound piercing the quiet. And yet, despite the tranquility, you find yourself stirring in the midst of a peaceful dream, the flashing lights of the small t.v situated atop Oikawa’s table shining brightly in your face.

A yawn escapes your being as your body lifts itself from the futon. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you check your phone, the little clock on the lock screen displaying 1:27am.

Your lips turn into a frown as your eyes meet with Oikawa’s back. The boy clearly unaware of your sudden awakening as his eyes remained fixed on the small screen, pools of brown wide and almost bloodshot as he curls against the volleyball situated in his lap.

The sight is almost disturbing as you reach out for him, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his white jumper. The sudden contact makes Oikawa flinch, visibly startled as he hurriedly takes his headphones off, his body frantically turning only to be met with your worried gaze.

His body immediately relaxes at the sight of you, disheveled, and barely awake. A small smile graces his lips in return as his heart thumps loudly in his chest, he thinks you look cute.

Hesitantly your fingers move to caress his cheek.

“Tooru it’s 1:00am, you should be sleeping right now, tomorrow is a big day.”

At your words, he seems conflicted, his lips pursing in thought as he glances once more between you and the video that has been paused. He knows there is truth in your words, and yet he finds himself hesitant.

“But y/n-chan… You know-”

“Of course I do, but running yourself into the ground before you even step foot on that court isn’t going to help you… Come to bed- Please?”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, a soft exhale passing through his body as he nods, albeit reluctantly.

“Only because you asked nicely.”

With that Oikawa turns off the t.v before crawling beneath the comforter, his arms move to wrap around your frame, pulling you close as he snuggles into your chest inhaling your gentle scent.

“I thought Iwa told you not to stay up too late~”

“Couldn’t fall asleep.”

The reply is simple, and yet it sits unnervingly in your mind, the simple thought of him being so wound up that he can’t sleep properly making your heart clench.

“Let’s try yeah?”

He nods eyes drifting shut as you begin to comb your fingers through his soft locks, the tufts of brown hair threading through your fingers.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Tobio… He’s grown. Him and that little shrimpy number ten.”

“Of course he has Tooru, it’s been three years, he’s bound to have changed- but guess what? So have you, and I can see it clear as day how amazing you are. Win or lose Tooru you will always be the Grand King.”

“Thanks, y/n-chan… That means a lot.”

 A gentle hum of a random song the two of you listen to together comes from your lips as you listen to Tooru mumble. The topic jumping from his worries to whatever else is on his mind. The simple movements in themselves seem to set Oikawa at ease his body slowly but surely begins to relax, melting into your touch.

Your actions continue for another couple of minutes, the soft caresses against his skin lulling him to sleep until his chest rises and falls steadily, the faint sound of his breathing being the only noise to fill the quiet space.

“Sweet dreams Tooru.”

The bright flashes of light filled your vision as you watched Kenma from the comfort of his bed, laying on your stomach as your legs swung mindlessly behind you. A yawn leaves your parted lips as you rub your eyes. However, despite the tiredness that sweeps over your body, you can’t help but feel completely awake at the same time.

You huff, though it goes completely unnoticed by Kenma who has become engrossed in his game, eyes open wide, slightly hunched over his keyboard that glows a deep red. 

On most days you wouldn’t mind, but the lack of sleep followed by the inability to do so was making you frustrated, and in this moment all you really wanted was to cuddle with your boyfriend, who was already sparse when it came to physical affection. 

But as the seconds turn to minutes, you find yourself craving his touch even more, the frustration bubbling within you to the point where everything seemed to set you off into a pouty mess.

With that, you’ve had enough, sliding off his bed and taking quiet steps toward his gaming chair.

Gently you tug the fabric of his sweater, involuntary pout present on your lips as you look at him almost pleadingly.

“Kenma… Cuddle me please?”

The mere words spoken from your mouth have Kenma flushing so red you can see him even with the faint light of his computer screen. The sight eases your frustrations just a tad bit.

He doesn’t respond but the subtle shift in his eyes and the convenient opening he presents to you serve enough to satisfy you.

A silent cheer echoing in your head as you crawl into his lap, straddling him as your head rests against his shoulder, arms coming around his torso.

The racing of his heart sends a flutter to your own, your lips turning upward in a small smile as you place a chaste kiss to his still flushed cheeks.

“Thank you Kenma…”

His heart begins so slow, relaxing into your touch, the rhythm slowly easing you into a state of comfort until you eventually fall asleep in his arms.

Kenma notices right away as your breathing slows, hold beginning to go limp around his figure. He smiles softly, turning off his computer slowly as to not disturb you, then carefully he lifts you into his arms, carrying you back onto his bed.

Crawling in beside you, he places a kiss to your forehead, the contact making you stir slightly as you cuddle closer into his frame.

“Good night y/n.”

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [0.1]

Masterlist

Everything had played out like the rising action in a horror movie. And before the whole world's eyes, life on Earth had slowed to a snail-like crawl. Covid 19 was ravaging through cities and countries faster than a salmonella outbreak at a restaurant even Gordon Ramsay couldn't attempt to save. It was terrifying to watch, and even more terrifying to see work and interaction dry up so quickly. Especially for those who relied on social interaction to stay sane.

Luckily for Remington, he happened to be stuck with his brother when quarantine measures went into full effect.

It was no big deal living with Emerson, if anything, it was relatively more calm with two out of the three of them sharing a space. Sebastian and Larissa were staying well and safe in their own house, popping by now and again at the gate to check in on his little brothers. No doubt, it sucked. The album was pushed back, the tour called off, the only thing keeping the hype for 'The Bastards' release was social media.

At least Remington had comfort in the fact that he wouldn't have to endure this quarantine alone. Living in his own house all by himself, he'd probably drive himself up the wall and find himself hanging off the rafters (literally).

Tuesday morning was bright and warm, as they tended to be in LA. Emerson was sat comfortably at the kitchen table, drinking his usual cup of tea and reading the depressing headlines coming out of the news. Pepper was curled up at his feet, snoring softly and her little marshmallow body rising steadily. The neighbourhood was quiet, it always was, but it was especially tranquil these spring days in April. He simpered sardonically when he read the latest quote from the president, promising that the pandemic would pass come July.

His attention was gripped suddenly when he heard the low squeal of car tires. The youngest brother glanced outside the window, his dark eyes falling over the little blue Waivecar that had pulled up at the opposing apartment complex. Those cars had been coming back and forth for the last four days, with the same girl coming and going. And at night, the apartment facing the house would keep the lights on until two or three in the morning, but she wasn't partying. The most noise this girl made was the hum of her radio drifting out of an open window.

Clearly, whoever she was, she was still in the weeds of moving. Perhaps when she was settled, Emerson would go by and introduce himself, make her feel welcome. Considering how warm the climate was, this particular neighbourhood had a tendency to be quiet cold and private towards neighbours. No doubt many of them weren't a fan of the band and their at home antics.

Emerson was startled when his brother came bounding in, dressed in the same moppy grey sweats he had been practically living in for weeks. Thank goodness he wasn't wearing his heelys this time around; the other day he had crashed into the couch and flipped over onto the cushions, nearly smashing his head on the coffee table.

"The guys will be by in about half an hour," he said. Emerson narrowed his eyes at his older brother.

"He says as we're under strict orders from the state health officials to not see anybody," he murmured.

Remington pouted, running a hand through his evidently growing blonde hair. He pulled up a seat next to his brother, "Hey, you were the one who said it's getting too quiet around here. And besides, it's not like we're coming from opposite counties. Seb lives like four blocks down from us,"

"I'm just getting a little nervous, is all," Emerson shrugged, showing him the article on his tablet, "The numbers are still going up,"

"And they'll keep going up until they find a cure. And while they're doing that, we're going to be in the backyard playing soccer and eating pizza," Remington smiled.

"Who said we're having pizza?"

"I did. I just decided,"

"Maybe I want Mexican? Did you think about that?"

Across the street in the fresh red brick and black-trimmed apartment, three floors up from the ground and in direct line of the sun sat Eva. The twenty-four-year-old literary bachelor sat comfortably at her newly furnished desk, typing away at her laptop that was due for a battery change -- Eva just hadn't found the time to physically take it into the store. On her right she had a lukewarm cup of coffee, on the left her speaker which was softly blasting Tove Lo's new album. All the while, her bony fingers flew over the keyboard, her big stormy blue eyes skimming the words that sprinted across her document.

Eva got by as a writer, not a novelist or a poet, but as a ghost writer. She was hired to write materials for would-be authors and journalists, all of whom either didn't have the drive or commitment to write to the extent Eva did. Surprisingly, she made some pretty good money just off that. And while that work tended to be dry and bleak, Eva had spent her free time writing various fanfictions -- mostly for Hannibal and Criminal Minds. She happened to be quite prolific on Tumblr because of her literary fantasies.

And while her work was often isolating, Eva didn't live alone by any means. She had her pale tabby, Pluto, to keep her company. He was snoozing on the couch, despite how often Eva had trained him not to do that when he was a kitten.

She had just returned from an early morning run from the grocery store -- having learned the hard way that despite the pandemic, people will continue to flock to the stores in droves and it's almost impossible to social distance within them. As if moving out of her old apartment wasn't hard enough, now she had to deal with hastily late movers, jumbled lease agreements, and a pandemic.

In the throws of bittersweet silence, Eva's concentration was broke when a shrill alarm had her nearly jumping out of her seat. It was only her phone, the screen lighting up with a 'Blocked' ID. Eva smiled wickedly and declined the call.

The young writer pushed her rolley chair away from the desk and did a stretch, her head turning towards the house across the street. She figured a couple of frat boys shared the place, they had a few of their friends over from time to time but they were relatively quiet. The most she would hear out of them is some smack talk coming from the backyard.

Pluto's head popped up from the couch, then he leapt onto the floor and trotted over to the window sill, hopping up to spy on the unfamiliar car that was pulling up to the house. Eva could hardly care less. There was a statewide order to see only a small group of people as little as possible, and as long as the neighbours wouldn't bother her, she wouldn't bother them.

It was a shame, as if having to meet new people wasn't difficult enough for her...

A few hours passed and soon the silence in the Los Angeles neighbourhood was broken by the grunts and thwacks of a backyard game of pool basketball. The boys and a few of their friends were all the more engaged in their game while their girls sat aside on deck chairs under the beating sun. Under the shade of the pergola, their friend Andrew was grilling some sausages -- beef and tofu -- on the barbecue.

Remington was taking the piss out of Sebastian for being all over his girl, but who the hell could blame the kid? There was a new rush of life in the guitarist's face whenever the topic of Larissa came up. The same could be said for Emerson and Shy. Remington wouldn't dare admit he was a little jealous of his brothers' happiness, so he'd settle for loving his brothers but torturing them at every opportunity.

Breaking out from the cold water, Emerson gripped tightly to the rubber red ball in his hand. Just as Sebastian came to take a running dive into the pool, he reared the ball back and hucked it at his older brother, nailing him square in the chest. Instead of a graceful dive, Sebastian flailed sideways and crashed into the water. The ball ricocheted onto the deck and bounced away towards the front yard.

"Oh my God!"

"Emerson!" Shy scolded, a little horrified and yet not surprised at her boyfriend's actions. Sebastian broke out of the water and shook his hair out of his eyes. It was more his pride and the laughter of his friends that hurt than the fading sting of rubber against skin.

Emerson meanwhile just giggled happily as he high-fived Remington.

"You guys fucking suck!" Sebastian glowered at the younger boys.

At the same time, Eva had given up on work for the day. As random as it was, she decided she'd try to make bread: the apparent trend that was surging during this quarantine. She bought all the things she would need this morning.

Stepped a few feet into the kitchen, she pushed open the window a brisk breeze flooding in and freshening up the air. Her attention was skewed to the house across the street, hearing some mild echoes of conversation and the thrum of a radio in the air.

She went to gather her ingredients and tools, however, as she turned to fetch an apron she realized something was missing: the patter of feet behind her. Pluto was usually Eva's shadow whenever he was in the kitchen, always the opportunistic cat he was. However, he wasn't on the couch. He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't snooping around in her closet or hiding under the desk.

"Where'd the ball go?" Daniel called, clinging to the ledge of the pool.

"I'll get it" Remington swam to the ladder and pulled himself out of the water. He shook out his sopping blonde hair, unintentionally shaking his ass in his colorful swim trunks. Their friend, Michael, whistled from the pool. Remington only smirked on him.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, hunny," he sassed, waving his hand and ducked off to fetch the ball.

Puzzled, Eva grabbed Pluto's favorite bag of cat treats and shook it, the sound was always able to bring him out -- when he was within ten feet of the treats. The fact that he didn't appear told Eva that he must've gone out the window once again to wreak havoc.

With an irritated huff, she switched out her house slippers for her sandals and hightailed it out with the bag of treats.

The red rubber pool ball had rolled across the grass and lodged itself into a bush at the fence. Remington was awash in frigid goosebumps, not even the California heat could will away the pool's chill quick enough. Nevertheless, he crawled down and retrieved the ball from the brambles, swatting off what little dirt he could. However, his fixation swerved to the complex across the street when he heard a heavy slam.

"Pluto!" a young girl came charging out of the apartment complex, dressed in a slightly wrinkled white t-shirt and her jaw-length hair swivelled smoothly around her face as she frantically looked up and down the street, "Pluto!" she was shaking a little yellow bag.

Remington looked up and down the quiet street, almost expecting to see Pluto the Dog standing at the corner like Cartoon Cat. He glanced down quizzically at the ball, then back at the young woman.

Eva rubbed the stress lines on her forehead out of pure frustration. This wasn't the first time Pluto ran off, he always came back. However, the damn cat would always find ways to stir up trouble; rowling up dogs, plucking fish from little ponds, scratching at hanging laundry.

"Pluto!!" she shook the bag of treats.

"Hey!" Remington called, waving his hand to the stranger, "You alright?"

Eva glanced at the owner of that soft, yet scratchy voice. She hadn't even noticed the bleach blonde kid standing in the glint of the sun. Eva crossed the street and stood a few feet from the gate, keeping more than two meters distance.

"I'm sorry. Have you happen to see a cat running around? He's a pale tabby, couple black stripes, likes to chew shoes," she shrugged.

Remington only shook his head, "Sorry. I'm afraid not," he smiled sheepishly, "Did -- did you say he was a cat?"

"Yeah,"

"And you named your cat 'Pluto'? Like -- the dog?"

Eva smirked, but shook her head, unable to help but glance at the tattoos that crossed over this boy's torso, "He's named after The Black Cat," she said, "You ever read Edgar Allan Poe?"

Remington smiled sheepishly, "Oh right, right! I haven't read that in a while, actually. He named the cat after the Roman God for death,"

Eva smiled pleasantly, not having pegged this boy to know so much about EAP, "That's right. I wanted a black cat to fit with the theme but the damn tabby stole my heart,"

"He knew what he was doing, obviously," Remington grinned, "I'll keep an eye for him though, if I happen to --" he was cut short however when he heard Pepper start yapping from the backyard. The yapping was followed by the clanging of metal and a screeching yrowl.

"What the fuck?" Andrew suddenly shouted, “Where’d this cat come from!?”

Panic flooded over Eva's face and Remington didn't think twice to open the gate and let her in. Social distancing aside, they two of them rushed into the backyard to find a tray of sausages had crashed onto the floor, the meat had rolled everywhere. Shy clung to Pepper as the little pomeranien yapped and growled incessantly at the scruffy tabby on the patio table, back arched and hissing at the dog while he guarded his captured sausage.

Eva was understandably horrified.

"What the hell happened here?" Remington asked, just as in shock over the mess.

"Cat came out of nowhere and dive bombed our lunch!" Daniel replied, having just crawled out of the pool.

"Pluto!" Eva ran to the table and scooped up the snarling cat, Pepper was still yapping away, "What is the matter with you?" she scolded at Pluto before turning to Remington and Andrew, who still wielded the metal tongs in his hand, "I am so frickin' sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay," Andrew shook his head, glancing at the lost sausages longingly, "I was kind of craving sushi, anyways,"

"It's no big deal, honestly," Remington assured her, "Five second rule applies, I'm sure,"

"It's been about thirty-seven seconds," Sebastian spoke flatly.

"Since when were you counting?"

Larissa was the only one who didn't seem annoyed or surprised at the feline intruder. She smiled warmly at the young girl, "Is this your cat?"

"Unfortunately," Eva grinned sheepishly, "I should know better. He's in a new area and he tends to get into trouble. Also, if anyone happens to lose a shoe, he did it, and I'm apologizing in advance," she pointed a finger at the now calmed tabby.

Shy smiled, "Well, Pepper's no better. She tends to think she's a way bigger dog," she held up and coddled the fluffy pomeranian. Eva smiled awkwardly, only now noting that she forgot to grab a face mask. And here she was: in a backyard full of strangers in a pandemic.

"Wait, I recognize you," Emerson said, "You just moved across the street, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. Eva," she nodded, "Great first impression, right?"

"You couldn't do any worse than Curcio over here," Sebastian grinned, "Remember the split pants?"

"You're going to hang that over my head for the rest of my life, aren't you?" Daniel glowered.

"Maybe," Emerson turned back to Eva, "I'm Emerson, that's Sebastian, Daniel, Larissa, Michael, Shy, Andrew... and you've already met Remington, I see,"

"The best looking one," Remington grinned.

Eva nodded, "Well, it was very nice meeting you all, I should get going, though. And again, I'm so sorry about the cat,"

Remington shrugged, "It's just sausages. We can get more," he assured her, "Here, I'll walk you out,"

"Thanks," Eva smiled, keeping Pluto close to her chest as she passed Shy and Pepper. Pepper gave one last fleeting bark as the cat passed by. Pluto simply licked his lips.

Michael couldn't help but lean over as he caught one last glance at the new neighbour, then turning to Emerson, "How come you get the pretty neighbour?"

The drummer shrugged, reaching over to grab the rubber ball that Remington dropped at the end of the pool, "Dumb luck?"

[hearteyesbowen]

Idk if anyone has asked you this but I was watching josh’s live yesterday and all the faces he makes when he sings are adorable anyways I was wondering if you could write something where he doesn’t like the faces that he makes and he gets self conscious about them but you reassure him that they are cute and that you adore the faces he makes.

livestream ☆ joshua bassett

joshua finally lets y/n stay with him while he does a livestream, but she tends to distract him without her even knowing it

warnings: fluff, shorter than what i usually write

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Please, Josh, I promise I won’t do anything bad.”

“No, because I’m going to be in the middle of talking to my fans or singing a song and then you’re going to do something that catches my attention and suddenly I have to explain to everyone who I’m looking at, again.” Josh argued.

You pouted, slouching on his soft bed. You reached for Franklin, his teddy bear, and cuddled it close to you as you plopped back on the bed. You sighed loudly, making sure to let him know your despair.

Josh watched you overreact on the blankets he left messy on the mattress. He was sat at the same chair in front of his desk that he always sat at when he does live videos. He thought you looked adorable at how you begged to be with him.

He remembered the first time he allowed you to stay with him during a live video. You were on his bed and admiring him from far away as he sung. Every time he sang a song or engaged with his fans, you could tell how happy he was. After he sang a Bruno Mars song, you felt giddy inside, so you silently clapped your hands together as to not make a sound. Josh noticed you and blushed while he stared at you. This erupted thousands of comments on both his live and his Instagram posts about who he was with and if he had a girlfriend. Of course, he didn’t get mad at you, but it was hard to convince everyone that it wasn’t you and only a friend, since you were often questioned on social media if you were Josh’s “mystery girl.” It’s also why you were not allowed to be with him anymore during his livestreams, just to be sure he wouldn’t have to do any other clarifying.

As for your relationship with each other, it was somewhat complicated. You both knew you have some sort of feelings for each other. You went on a couple of dates, a lot of them staying over at one’s house and watching movies. Neither of you had made anything official, your guess was that he wanted to take things slow. However, it didn’t dawn upon you how slow he liked to be.

You sat up and gently placed Franklin on his pillow before you stood up and walked over to Josh. He raised his eyebrows at you, wondering what you were about to do. You motioned for him to move his hands from his lap so you could sit. Once he held his hands up, you sat down on his lap and held your arms around his neck while he held you at your waist.

“Please?” You begged one last time, taking off the hat he wore under his hoodie and throwing it on the wooden surface next to him.

Finally, Josh groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can stay in my room, but no distractions.”

You smiled widely, tightening your arms around him for a hug. You heard a small laugh escape his lips as you stuffed your face into his neck. You pulled away and took a glimpse at his red lips, noticing how much softer they looked today. The room was silent, as if everything stopped. You gazed at each other for what seemed like years, just you two. All you could think of was how nice it would be to have your lips on his, holding onto his body tightly.

As if he read your mind, Josh slowly leaned up, hesitantly reaching for your lips. You both tried inching closer, but it was clear how nervous you were. Your lips were still somewhat far, but it didn’t stop the anxiousness you felt the more the space between you closed. You had never kissed anyone yet, so the feeling you felt as his breath fanned over your lips sent shivers down your spine.

The alarm on Josh’s phone went off, making you both jump slightly. You tapped the screen to check the time, seeing it was only five minutes before he said he would go live.

You turned back to him and patted his chest. “You should get ready.”

Josh sat there, silently frustrated at himself for not making the move. You stood up and threw yourself on his bed, reflecting on the past two minutes that you could have changed.

➢➣ ➢➣

Halfway through Josh’s livestream, you stopped paying attention to him. You loved listening to him and sing, you could listen to him forever, but the memory of your possible first kiss engulfed your brain every time you even heard his voice.

Now you were lying down on your back, holding your phone up high above your head with your headphones plugged into your ears as you blocked out Josh’s voice as best as you could. Usually his livestreams don’t last too long, but it felt like it’s been an hour already.

Clearly you were lost into thought, too busy scrolling through Twitter, that you didn’t even notice when the mattress sank down by your legs. Josh crawled over the bed, resting his hands on either side of your head and his knees between yours. Soon your screen was covered when a curly-haired boy shoved his head between your arms, forcing you to wrap your hands around his head. His face expressed worry the more you stared at him without talking.

“You’re less talkative than you usually are, what happened?” Josh wondered.

You shrugged, not letting out a single noise. He huffed, lightly blowing some of the curls away from his head, and plopped himself down next to you on his bed. You let him rest his head on your arm once he went to cuddle your torso, leaving your other hand to mess with your own hair. Instantly, the warmth of his body clutching yours overcame the uneasy feelings you had earlier.

“What were you looking at?”

Josh took your phone from the other side of your hip and tapped in the passcode, the day of your first date. The Twitter app opened, showing your timeline of tweets from the people you followed.

“Some of your fans are already posting screenshots from your live.” You murmured as you see the first screen recording of Josh.

A silent groan escaped his lips the more he watched the clip. He sang “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur, one of your favorite songs. You giggled as you watch him struggle hitting the lower notes, scrunching up his nose and his repeated use of the word “yikes.”

Josh had enough of watching that clip and exited the app. He went to the Instagram app and typed in his username, then going to his tags. Numerous screen recordings and photos of his livestream were being posted by the minute. Curious, he tapped the most recent one of him singing yet another song.

You stopped paying attention to the video, now only watching his face in disgust as he watched himself. You pouted, using your free hand to remove your phone away from his grasp and pushed aside some of the hair still framing his forehead.

“What ails you, dear?” You ask, holding back a laugh from your choice of words.

He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning for a second before sighing. “I make the stupidest faces when I sing.”

You pushed yourself up, using your arm to hold you up. Josh still lying down, he covered his face with his hands.

“Why do you think that?”

“Look at me!” He reached for your phone and quickly finding a clip to show you. “Why do I look like that?”

“I think it’s cute.” You argue, pushing his hands off his head.

Josh grumbled, almost ripping out the locks of his hair. “But I feel like I look like an idiot. I’m always making those dumb faces, like I can’t even sing normally. I hate seeing myself sing because then I just get self-conscious.”

“Joshua, you’re being so overdramatic. You look perfectly fine. If anything, your fans love the cute little movements you make.” You reassure.

He studied your face for any hints of deceit. You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks the more he watched you.

Josh finally sat up, your faces now inches apart. The tingling feeling you felt in your stomach a while ago came back. His fingers crept onto your cheek, pushing aside some of the hair by your eyebrow.

“You shouldn’t have to feel insecure about how you look, Josh. You’re literally the cutest guy in the world.”

Your whisper set off a sudden new confidence in him, something that he had been trying to discover since your first date.

“I am?” He wondered with little bits of disbelief from your comment.

The tips of your noses touched, and you hitched your breath. This has been the closest you two have ever gotten. You were not going to chicken out of this one, not again, at least.

You pushed your lips onto his, leaving a short peck on his lips. The new feeling of someone kissing someone set fire to your body. Once you pulled away, your eyes grew wide at Josh’s surprised expression. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes still wide open.

The corners of his lips curved upwards, forming his familiar smile. “Why’d you pull back?”

That phrase barely left you enough time to think about what just happened, as Josh crashed his lips back to yours. Your eyes widened at his sudden move, but you soon relaxed as the feeling of his lips on yours became more important than anything.

You reached up behind his head and clutched his hair, making Josh let out a soft moan. His hands snaked your waist as he pushed you back down on the bed, hovering over you again.

It wasn’t the most experienced kiss at first, but you quickly found your way. Nothing between you two has ever felt more passionate. Your lips moved slowly, still captivated by the thought of you being with each other.

Josh pulled away, lingering one last kiss on your swollen lips. Your eyes blissfully fluttered open, soon looking up at his red, smiling face.

“If I knew that talking about my insecurities meant you would finally kiss me, I would have done it much sooner.” He joked, reaching down to capture your lips on his once more.

A/N - sorry this is short and late i was finishing up with some online school work but now im on spring break so hopefully i can get another post this saturday !! also another sorry for the person who requested this , i was trying to finish my other drafts before i started requests , i hope u like it (: next post is the second part to twenty-dollar baby so be on the lookout <3 love y’all xx

[fadedtemporarytattoos]

Divinity: A Savior Among Sinners

Warning: This oneshot contains obsessive behavior as well as mentions of physical, mental, and sexual abuse. There is also an instance with self harm. Viewer discretion is advised. 

Word count: 3.5k 

     She never expected that her only form of salvation would be in a spider-like stripper, but sometimes blessings come in the strangest of ways. She learned that he went by the name of Angeldust. He was impurity in its purest form, lust if it amalgamated itself into a humanoid shape. He was wild with desire, a creature with an insatiable appetite and insatiable habits. Well, at least, that’s what she thought at first.

     She saw him for the first time right before going on stage, he was twirling around the pole like his life depended on it, which probably wasn’t far off from the truth. A wicked smile adorned his face, but there was something off about his eyes. They held a certain amount of emptiness, a lack of hope that she recognized within herself. He was the epitome of sex appeal, and the sinners before him squirmed in their seats as he held eye contact. He ran his hands up and down his body, ghosting his fingertips across his inner thighs and trailing them up over the slope of his chest. All the while, his vacant eyes leered at her.  

      Shortly after, he gave her one last look before strutting off stage, directly past her. His heels clicked as he walked, and his footsteps resonated in her ears even after they were gone. She didn’t have much time to reflect before heading onstage herself. She gave one last over her shoulder before taking a deep breath and marching towards the pole in the center of the stage. 

     They got to know each other in dressing rooms and quiet restaurants. Their friendship blossomed within cups of questionable substances and the tying of corset strings. From complimentary smalltalk between strangers to something much realer, something more tangible. They sat together for late night conversations, sharing fears, hopes, and dreams. Secrets fell from soft lips like petals off a flower at the coming of autumn. All fronts were dropped when they were with one another. Hesitant words dripped from lips like honey out of a hive of understanding. They lived within shared glances, capturing moments and holding them hostage in the confines of their irises. They both experienced the wrath of Valentino firsthand, but the love they held for each other was much greater than their fear of him. 

      She found Angeldust after a particularly rough night. Apparently the show had not gone as great as Valentino wanted, and disciplinary action had to be taken. Y/n had agreed to hang out with Angeldust previously that week and was waiting at his apartment for him to arrive after his last show. He stumbled in three hours late with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a cigarette in the other. This, of course, sparked worry within Y/n. She immediately rushed forward and ripped the bottle out of his hand. He laughed at her, blinking owlishly while taking another drag. 

     “What did he do to you,” she asked quietly. 

     “Nothing that he hasn’t done before, Sugar,” he replied hollowly. 

      He then laughed a mighty laugh, one twinged with a soft contempt simmering beneath the surface. Y/n stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, placating him like a mother to a petulant child. He shrugged her off harshly. 

     “C’mon, darling,” he sneered. “Do we really need to do this? Do we really need to go around in circles? We both know what happened. We both know what he does to people like us. We both know his hands and their tendency to wander. His selective hearing. The way he blocks out the words, “No,” and, “Stop,” from his vocabulary at the most convenient times. He wouldn’t stop, Y/n, he never stops.” 

     He started mumbling harshly under his breath, sucking in air between his teeth before letting the words lingering on his tongue dwindle into nothingness. He ran a hand down his face, and he was no longer the same Angeldust she once knew. He was a young child, afraid of everything and nothing all at the same time. He suddenly looked microscopic in the finite vastness of his living room. He curled in on himself. The red hot anger that fueled him moments prior had dissipated as soon as it had appeared. Now, he was only left with flashbacks of fingertips ghosting over his collarbones and arms twisting around his torso like tree limbs. 

     He collapsed onto the floor, sobs ricocheting off of the paper doll walls. His body shuddered as he tried to gulp fresh air into his polluted lungs. Y/n rushed forward, cradling his head within her hands. 

     “Let it out,” she murmured, “let it all out.” 

     His sobs got increasingly louder, and she held him tightly, pulling him closer than before. She stroked the back of his head softly, making soft shushing noises. 

     “He’s never going to stop,” he muttered, “he’s gonna keep hurting me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. I don’t want this; I never wanted this. I can’t get him out of my head. He’s always there, even when I close my eyes. I can still feel his hands crawling all over me. I can still taste his breath on my lips. He wouldn’t let go. I told him to let go. I told him to stop. I said no. This isn’t okay. Nothing will ever be okay again.” 

     He grew quiet after that. The room swelled with the sound of their breathing and all of the words he left out in the open, all of the words he never had the guts to say before, the words he didn’t want to utter out loud. He feared that speaking them would make them much realer and, in a way, he was right. Now they were out in the open, and he had no way of taking them back. He could only sit and wait for the silence around him to swallow him up. Y/n shifted slightly, turning to look up at him. 

     “Things will be okay someday, even if that day is nowhere near,” she murmured. “Everything is temporary.”

     “That doesn’t change how I feel right now.” 

      “I know.” 

     They sat on the floor for hours, holding each other and listening to each other’s heartbeat. Y/n slowly shifted and began to stand up, dragging Angeldust with her. Neither of them spoke, they simply shuffled toward his bedroom door. Y/n softly turned the doorknob before ushering Angel into bed. The bright red numbers on his alarm clock read 3:00am. Angel sat on his bed, staring into space. He slowly fell back into the ocean of sheets, and felt himself drown once more. Y/n approached him cautiously, as if coming to the aid of an untamed animal. She gently grabbed his blanket and laid it out over his body. She kissed him softly on the forehead and smiled a delicate smile. 

     “I love you, Angel,” she said tenderly, “you are my best friend.” 

     She paused for a moment, as if she were unsure of how to continue. Her lips twitched before parting slightly. 

     “You’re scared, I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way he makes you flinch when he enters the room. You’re stronger than you think, I know you are. You are more than what he calls you. Don’t let him define you, you are so much more than anything he could ever dream to be. You are beautiful, Angel, and you are loved. You are so loved. Cry if you need to, and don’t feel bad about it. Never feel bad for feeling. Cry all you want, just know that I will always be here to pick up the pieces and put you back together. You will never be alone when I’m here. No matter what, we’re in this together. I will love you even when you can’t love yourself” 

     He looked up at her to see tears welled up in her eyes. She gave him a watery smile filled with so much affection and kindness, that it almost made him break down again. She turned to face the door and began taking small steps towards it, as they agreed that she’d sleep on the couch previously. She placed her dainty fingers on the doorknob and began twisting it when she heard a soft voice echoing behind her. 

     “Stay,” his voice cracked. “Please, just stay.” 

     “Of course I’ll stay,” she whispered, “I’ll stay as long as you need.” 

     She crawled into bed beside him, curling into him. He visibly relaxed and contorted closer to her. She grabbed his hand and pulled it up to her face. She kissed his knuckles before bringing his hand close and gripping it like a teddy bear. It wasn’t long before Angel’s breathing evened out and his body was still. Y/n fell asleep hours later after listening to the lullaby of his breath and feeling the blanketing warmth of his body. 

     They woke up with intertwined legs and morning breath. He woke up a few minutes before her, and really took in how beautiful she was. Her lips were pastel pink and her eyelashes tickled her rosy red cheeks. A small, faded bruise decorated her jawline but not even that could diminish her beauty. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her kind eyes. They sat for a while just basking in each other's presence. Y/n sat up abruptly and darted her eyes towards the alarm clock. 

    “I’m late,” she screeched. 

      She flung herself out of bed before rushing to the bedroom door and slamming it open. She sprinted around the apartment, grabbing her stuff as she saw it. Angeldust groggily sat up and watched her spring around like a jackrabbit. Once she had grabbed all of her belongings, she plopped down on the floor to put on her platform boots. Angel made his way towards her before sitting across from her. 

     “Can you come over tonight?” He said this softly, desperately. 

      “Of course I will, Angel,” she replied. 

      “Promise?” 

     “Promise.” 

     She left after that, briskly walking through the halls of his apartment building before sprinting down the bustling city streets. By the time she got to the club, her feet were sore and she was out of breath. 

     “Where were you?” Valentino said it conversationally, but she heard the sinister undertones that lurked under the surface. 

     “I was busy with something,” she said smoothly, “it won’t happen again.” 

     “That didn’t answer my question.” 

     He strode towards her before grabbing her jaw tightly and pulling her face close to his own. 

     “You know how I feel about you lying to me,” he hissed. 

     “I didn’t lie to you,” she spat. 

     “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll give you one more chance,” he sneered. “Where were you?”

     “I was just at Angel’s house,” she admitted. “We were just hanging out, and I lost track of time.” 

     “Oh,” he muttered, “I see.” 

     His eyes narrowed behind his pink sunglasses. He began cackling softly before shoving her backwards by the jaw. She stumbled back into the wall behind her. 

     “You’re spending time with the likes of him now,” he commented, “you must be pretty desperate.” 

     “There’s nothing wrong with hanging out around Angel,” she muttered angrily. 

     “Now, that’s where you’re wrong sweetheart,” he growled, “everything about that is wrong.” 

     He loomed over her form. She was so small compared to him, or rather, he made her feel small. He trained his eyes on her, waiting to see if she’d move. 

     “He’s my friend,” she argued. 

     “I don’t care,” he responded, “I don’t want you to be around him anymore. I expect you to cut him off today.” 

     “No,” she spluttered, “I won’t, and you can’t make me.”

     “You’d be surprised at what I can make you do,” he snarled. “Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I have been very lenient with you. Do not get on my bad side.” 

     “I’m not gonna cut him off or get rid of him,” she announced. “ I love him, he’s my best friend. You will not get your way this time because, no matter what you do, my love for him is stronger than my fear of you.” 

     “You’re gonna regret that,” he screeched. 

     He lunged towards her, hands outstretched like broken tree branches. She quickly cowered down, throwing her hands up to protect herself. He pushed her against the wall harshly, and her head collided with the drywall. A loud thump echoed throughout the room and it felt as if all of the air in her lungs had been sucked out. He reached forward and took a fistfull of hair from the base of her head. He began dragging her by her hair out of the room. She began to kick and cry, begging him to stop. He ignored her and yanked harder, causing her cries to crescendo. At that moment, everything heightened. It was almost as if she could feel each individual strand of hair as they were ripped from her scalp. 

     She could feel the carpet drag against her face and back. The carpet burn forming across her body felt so infinitesimal compared to the agony bubbling across the surface of her head. She tried her best to move forward with him in hopes of easing the pain. Whenever she managed to get into a standing position, he’d kick her back down into submission. It was almost as if he thought her standing was a feeble attempt at insubordination. Eventually she gave up and let him drag her through the winding, cherry-red halls. 

     It took them about ten minutes to get to the brass door. Ten minutes of pure agony, but ten minutes nonetheless. He flung the door open with a loud bang and shoved her inside. The floor was cold, and she wondered what it was made out of. It was dark in the room and all she could hear was a distant clanging from whatever Valentino was doing. 

     It wasn’t long before he grabbed her by the arm tightly and dragged her through the dark room. He thrusted her forward after reaching a certain point. She stumbled before catching herself on something frigid. She jolted backwards in fear and all she heard was the sound of Valentino laughing. 

     The lights in the room suddenly turned on, flooding the space with light. She took a look around her before feeling her heart sink.  

     “It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” he asked. “I didn’t think I’d have to use it this soon, but it’s oddly fitting for this occasion.” 

     She was trapped in a large birdcage. It was a silver color. The front of it mimicked a regular birdcage with prison-like bars, but the back of it looked like a perfect recreation of the garden of Eden with the forbidden tree smack dab in the middle. The tree was adorned with golden apples, the only part of the cage that was a different color than the rest. The metal around her was cold, and she knew that it would only get worse if she sat down or leaned against it. 

     “It was expensive,” he cut through her train of thought, “but nothing is too expensive for my angel.” 

     “Let me out,” she roared. 

     “Tsk tsk tsk, that behavior simply won’t do,” he muttered. “No no no, this won’t do at all. In order to get out you have to show improvement. You have to learn from your mistakes.” 

     She began banging on the wall of the cage. 

     “Let me out, you psychopath!”

     “Well, I definitely won’t do that when you have that attitude,” he snickered. “I’m gonna give you time to reflect on your actions. Hopefully you’ll figure out where your loyalties lie.”

     “You can’t do this to me,” she howled. 

     “Watch me,” he stated calmly, opening the brass door behind him. 

     “No!” 

     He flicked the switch and closed the door behind him, plunging her into darkness once more. Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, punching the metal around her until her knuckles bleed and her arms ached. She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing and shivering. She swore that she heard Valentino’s laughter from behind the door, but this just made her weep louder. 

     Meanwhile, Angeldust had been sitting in his living room for an hour, listening to water drip down from the leak in his ceiling. She was supposed to be here an hour ago. Where was she? Time passed quickly, and one hour turned into a day and a day turned into a week. He didn’t know where she was or what happened. She hadn’t responded to any of his calls or read any of his texts. He decided that calling again wouldn’t hurt, and he dialed her number. 

     “Hello?” Valentino’s voice bursted through his phone speaker. 

     “Is Y/n there,” Angel asked softly. 

     “Yes,” Valentino responded, “but she doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

     “Why do you have her phone?” 

     “She knew you’d call again, and she didn’t want to deal with it,” Valentino stated simply. 

     “Don’t lie to me,” Angel spat, “What did you do to her?” 

     “Why do you assume it was something I did and not what you did?” 

     “I didn’t do anything,” Angel whispered. 

     “She doesn’t want all of your emotional baggage,” Valentino barked, “You were too weak, and now she never wants to see you again.” 

     “That’s not true, it can’t be true,” he murmured, “You’re lying to me.” 

     “I guess you’ll just have to hear it from her directly,” he sighed. 

     Angel heard a soft crackling through the speaker as the phone was passed to someone else. 

     “Leave me alone, Angel.” 

     Her voice was soft, much like the night before, but it didn’t hold the same warmth. It was tense now, and held a coldness that he’s never heard before. 

     “Y/n, what are you talking about?” He said this calmly, but she heard the pain in every syllable. 

     “I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Angel,” she replied harshly. 

     “I don’t understand, last week you told me-” 

     “I lied.” 

     “That’s not true, did he do something to you?” His voice shook. 

     “He didn’t do anything to me, I just don’t want to talk to you,” she replied. 

     “I’m not going to give up on you, Y/n, you didn’t give up on me.” 

     “There isn’t anything to give up on, there was never anything between us,” she said thickly. 

     “You said you loved me,” Angel croaked out. 

     “Don’t be ridiculous,” she growled, “why would I ever love someone like you” 

     “Y/n,” his voice cracked. 

     “Don’t call me again, and don’t come near me.” 

     “Why are you doing this,” he pleaded, “what changed?” 

     “Nothing changed,” she said numbly, “you just weren’t strong enough.” 

     She hung up abruptly and left him alone with his thoughts. He slid down the wall behind him and screamed. He screamed so loud that the knick knacks on his shelfs shook and fell, showing his anguish in a much more tangible way. He fell apart, throwing empty alcohol bottles at the walls around him and punching holes in the wall. He wept for what was and what would never be again. For the friend he lost and the savior that never was.  

     She began wailing as soon as she hung up. In exchange for her freedom, she had to cut ties with the one person who gave a damn about her. A sob erupted from her throat. She raked her nails over her arms and across her face, leaving angry red lines across her body. She dug deeper and deeper until blood bubbled to the surface, red ink that spelled out the story of her betrayal. 

     “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” 

      Her legs gave out from under her, and she fell to the floor in a heap. She began to screech and scream. She screamed for what could have been and would never be. The tears in her eyes blinded her as she grappled around on the floor, looking for a lifeline. She was never his savior, he was hers. And now, all of her mistakes had been made painstakingly clear. She dragged herself up off of the floor and made her way to her dressing room mirror. She looked in and saw gaunt features and purple bruises, but, above all, she saw a monster cloaked in devine skin. 

     “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You aren’t weak, Angel, you never were. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry I left. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t strong enough.” 

[sparrow-flies-south]

I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die)

Title: I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die) Pairings: Romantic Thomceit Warnings: Attempted murder, Attempted murder, a couple of references to implied child abuse, a character deliberately attempting to trigger someones allergy (as a murder attempt), reference to torture. Summary: Deceit is one of the best assassins in the business. So assassinating Thomas Sanders should not be difficult - except Thomas seems to have the amazing ability to happen to escape from death.And the longer it takes Deceit to kill Thomas, the less sure he is that he even wants to.

Notes: Happy Birthday Janus!! This fic is complete as a first draft, I plan to update weekly as I edit chapters.

My Masterpost   Read on AO3

Thomas Sanders is going to die.

There is a folder on the table with his name on it. Deceit picks it up and flips through it – Thomas’ address, family history, information about his housemate, a man named Virgil Storm, and details of Thomas’ career on Vine and YouTube. He’ll do his own research later, and find out everything there is to know about the man. For now, he just needs to understand the job itself.

“The deadline is ten days,” says his handler, a woman that is all sharp angles. Her hair is tied back into a tight bun, and she dresses like she’s on her way to a board meeting.

To her face, everyone calls her ma’am, but most of the Agency also call her The Dragon. She encourages this nickname by never killing someone over it.

“Whatever will I do with the other nine days,” Deceit muses.

The Dragon doesn’t respond, which is probably better than what anyone else would face. Then again, she always has been fond of Deceit, ever since he was a kid.

“I’ll take it,” Deceit says, though that is a given.

The Dragon nods and leaves the room. Deceit flips back through the file – Thomas Sanders is a former Vine star turned YouTuber, he lives with a reclusive man named Virgil Storm, and he will be easy to kill.

It will be a subtle death, because if she wants something loud, the Dragon goes to the Duke. An accident, most likely, something very tragic. However he’ll end up doing it, Thomas Sanders’ fate is sealed.

*

Deceit looks Thomas up on the flight over, and watches some of his videos. He finds them funny enough. Thomas seems wholesome enough on them, but someone wants him dead.

He doesn’t have a safehouse in Thomas’ town, but he does know a hotel where people don’t ask too many questions, so he checks in there. He stays only long enough to put away his luggage – a single, carry on suitcase – and then goes to find Thomas’ house.

It’s a nice enough house on a nice enough street – the lawns are well kept, and he sees some of the neighbours talking to each other. There is only one car parked in Thomas’ drive, and from the file Deceit knows it’s Thomas’. There’s no visible alarm on the outside, and a number of windows that might make for easy access. He slips into the neighbour’s yard, and spots a backdoor to Thomas’ house.

There’s a house being renovated down the street from Thomas – for now, it looks empty. When Deceit breaks in, he finds a balcony that has a good view of Thomas’ house.

He spends the next day learning more about Thomas – he stakes out his house, and is able to follow Thomas to the nearest Starbucks around noon. From talking to people, he learns that this is the only real routine Thomas seems to have. He doesn’t see Storm at all that day, and from what he finds out, that isn’t unusual.

Thomas, they say, seems nice enough – if someone says hello to him, he’ll say hello back, even though none of his neighbours are exactly friends with him. Storm, on the other hand, they rarely see. And when they do see him, he usually keeps to himself, and is always wearing a pair of headphones.

The next day, Deceit shows up for his shift at Starbucks armed with a baggie of ground up peanuts, and the knowledge of Thomas’ medical history – including his serious peanut allergy. He’s there to fill in for a barrister that has come down with a terrible case of food poisoning. Really, she should have known better than to eat shrimp that he’s tampered with.

When Thomas arrives, the café is packed. Deceit gets handed a cup with Thomas’ name on it, and sets about making his venti iced vanilla Americano. It’s not the first time Deceit has works at a Starbucks as part of a mission; he has become very good at making drinks quickly, and even better at slipping crumbled peanuts into them when no one is looking.

Thomas is idling near the counter, today dressed in a leather jacket and sunglasses that he is still wearing indoors. Deceit catches his eye and holds out the drink.

“Thanks gurl,” Thomas says as he is given the drink, a far cry from how he speaks in his videos. He takes a swing and pulls a face. “Hey, uh, I think you got my order wrong?”

Deceit fixes a smile on his face. Based on the hospital report from the last time Thomas had a reaction, it won’t take much to kill him. A single swig might be enough.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says.

Thomas turns the drink around and squints at the cup. “Yeah, this isn’t mine,” he says, pointing at where Thomas is written in loose handwriting. “My name is Remy?”

What.

Thomas – another Thomas comes up to the counter. “Oh, hey, I think that was mine?” he says.

“Right,” Deceit says. “My apologies. Let me remake that for you.”

“I’ll do it,” Kate, another barrister working with him, says. “I need you to get more cups from the back.”

Kate could easily do that, but Ethan Gold, Starbuck barrister, wouldn’t argue. So he just says, “Of course,” and walks away from the counter, while Thomas’ drink is made correctly.

By the time he gets out, Thomas is leaving, talking on the phone as he goes.

“So we’ll meet at your place at noon? Cool, I’ll see you there. Bye, Lee.”

*

Lee and his wife, Mary Lee lives a ten minutes’ drive away from Thomas. Seeing then seems to be so important to Thomas, that Deceit will do what he can to make sure Thomas gets to it as fast as possible.

So, when it’s late enough that the lights in Thomas’ house has gone off, and he’s certain the neighbours view of Thomas’ drive will be blocked by the fence, he crawls under Thomas’ car and cuts the breaks.

The house renovation makes a very good place to watch Thomas drive off from, so the next day that’s where he is. He perches beside a pile of bricks, close enough to the glass balcony door to see out of it, but where he’s not likely to be spotted. Usually, he would stay at the hotel and wait for the news, but Deceit isn’t willing to take any chances with Thomas Sanders.

Except the minutes tick by, and Thomas’ car doesn’t move. Thomas had said around noon, but it is half twelve now, and the car is still there. He wonders if Thomas decided to walk, or if he caught the bus instead, when he sees someone leave Thomas’ house.

Deceit goes to the balcony that overlooks the street to get a better look, and sure enough, it is Thomas, not Virgil Storm. Deceit watches him walk towards the car – he’ll only watch long enough for Thomas to drive off, there’s no way of telling when an accident will happen, after all – and right passed it, and onto the street.

Oh, you have to be kidding him. Thomas seems completely unconcerned as he walks closer to Deceit’s hiding place, and part of him wants to go down there and demand to know what Thomas is doing.

With a snarl of frustration, Deceit grabs one of the bricks and hurls it at the pavement where Thomas is – or rather, at the pavement a few inches to the left of where Thomas is. Thomas jumps where the brick hits the asphalt, and Deceit ducks back inside the house so he won’t be seen.

That was an extremely stupid move – Deceit had thought he’d grown past fits of rage, but apparently not. Still, when he peers out again Thomas is gone, so perhaps he’ll chalk it to another accident.

Deceit, however, is done with accidents.

*

Breaking into Thomas’ house is easy – all Deceit needs to do is pick the locks on his door and disable the burglar alarms. Honestly – anyone could just walk in. Maybe he’ll leave Virgil recommendations for some decent security.

Deceit barely spares a glance to Thomas’ kitchen and living room before making his way up the stairs. It’s late – almost three am, and the whole house is in darkness.

Upstairs, there are three doors opening off the corridor. The one in the middle is slightly ajar, and Deceit can see that it’s a bathroom. Another door leads to a room at the front of the house – from being able to see through the windows, he knows this is Thomas’. The third door must lead to Virgil’s room – through the crack at the bottom, he can see the glow of lights on inside.

Deceit opens Thomas’ door slowly, taking care not to make any noise, and when it is open just wide enough for Deceit to fit, he slips in, and shuts the door behind him.

Thomas is sat on his bed, his headphones on and his laptop in front of him. The glow of the screen lights up the moment Thomas looks up and sees him, the way Thomas’ eyes widen in shock and fear.

Deceit is already moving before Thomas begins to open his mouth to scream, and so he is able to tackle Thomas onto the bed and cover his mouth with a hand before any sound can come out. Damn it, Thomas is supposed to be asleep. Who the hell is up at three am?

Thomas struggles, hands clawing at Deceit’s own, and legs kicking wildly. He manages to catch his laptop and send it flying off the bed. It hits the floor with a loud thud. Deceit pushes himself onto the bed, and uses his knees to pin Thomas’ legs in place.

He’d been planning to use a pillow to smother him, but fortunately he also has a knife with him. Thomas is still scratching at Deceits hand, so he can use the other one to pull out the knife. Behind him, something pounds across the floor, and there’s the sound of a door hitting a wall when it’s thrown open.

Deceit is able to turn his head just in time to see the vase coming towards him.

The impact sends him falling pack against the bed, dazed.

“What the fuck!?” Virgil shouts, at the same time as Thomas cries, “You killed him!”

Deceit tries to get his hands under him, tries to push himself up, when Storm says, “Oh, fuck that,” and something collides with his head again, this time sending him careening into darkness.

*

The ropes are the first thing he notices.

He keeps his eyes closed, keeps his breathing slow and even, and listens to the footsteps pacing around the room. This isn’t the first time he’s been caught during a mission – it’s happened twice before. The first time had been easy enough to escape and finish the job, but the second had taken him days. When he finally had escaped, he’d almost bled out before he reached the safe house.

This time will almost certainly end up like the first.

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” someone asks. “Shit, I think I gave him brain damage.”

“He’s probably fine,” says a second voice. “I’m sure he’ll wake up soon.”

“Great!” hisses the first voice. “That means he’s going to wake up and kill us!”

…Definitely like the first.

It would, admittedly, be easiest to pretend to be asleep until one or both of them left the room. That would give him a chance to get out of the chair, kill Thomas, and then decide if he wants to kill Virgil, too.

But no one has ever caused him this much trouble before, not even the people who were expecting him. He’s curious.

So he makes a show of groaning and raising his head, of waking up slowly. He tugs against his restraints, more for show than everything, though it does give him a chance to make not of the amount of give in them. Rope is woven around his chest and arms, and then more has been used to secure his wrists.

Virgil is at the edge of the room, arms crossed and glowering. Thomas stands between Virgil and Deceit, eyes wide, looking as if he hadn’t actually expected Deceit to wake up.

“Uh, hi,” Thomas says. “Sorry about the tying you to a chair thing, but in our defence, you did try to kill us.”

Deceit doesn’t reply. He’s able to twist his hands to loosen the rope slightly.

Thomas falters. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asks. “Virgil hit you pretty hard. We could get you some ice for it?”

Deceit isn’t sure why Thomas is asking that, but he still nods. He’s curious about what Thomas is going to do now that he thinks Deceit is at his mercy.

“Right! Yeah, I can get that,” Thomas says. He turns to Virgil, who’s scowl somehow grows even darker.

“Fuck no,” Virgil snaps. “I’m not taking my eyes off him.”

“Fine,” Thomas says. “I’ll get it. Just- stay here?”

And then Thomas leaves the room. He must be either stupider than Deceit realised, or far more cunning than Deceit was prepared for.

If Deceit is going to be hurt, this is where it will happen, while it’s just him and Virgil. Then Thomas can deny knowing about it, can build up Deceit’s trust in him.

Virgil stays where he is, watching Deceit so intently he doesn’t seem to blink.

“Have you called the police?” Deceit asks.

Virgil jumps at Deceit’s voice; unsurprising, considering how tightly wound he is. “Of course we did,” he snaps. “We’re just waiting for them to get here.”

Meaning there’s a time limit on how long he has to escape.

“What the fuck were you doing, anyway?” Virgil asks.

“I thought that was obvious,” Deceit says. “I’m trying to kill Thomas.”

“Why would you want to kill Thomas?”

Virgil sounds like the idea honestly makes no sense to him. Deceit just shrugs.

Virgil mutters something under his breath but doesn’t speak again, apparently content to just watch in silence. Or not content, considering the look on his face. It isn’t long before Deceit can hear Thomas’ footsteps up the stairs, and then Thomas appears, carrying an ice pack in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Virgil mutters, eyeing the water.

Thomas shrugs sheepishly. “I thought he might be thirsty?”

“He just tried to kill you!” Virgil snaps. “You don’t worry about whether the person who tried to kill you is thirsty!”

If someone speaks like that at the Agency, it’s usually a good sign that violence is on the way, and you should start apologising before it’s too late. Thomas doesn’t seem bothered, though.

“Do you want it?” he asks.

Deceit shakes his head. He’s not stupid, there’s no way he’s going to accept anything from someone he’s just tried to murder. He might as well eat arsenic – it would cut out the middle man.

“Okay,” Thomas says. He steps closer. “Uh, I’m not sure how the ice pack will work. Maybe we can put it between your head and your shoulder?”

Deceit nods, and lets Thomas come closer, closer still. He places the water on the ground, and then reaches with the ice pack, and Deceit launches himself off the chair.

He keeps hold of the ropes as he tackles Thomas to the floor. He stands up quickly, and then turns to Virgil. As he suspected, Virgil is already lunging for Deceit’s knife, now placed on the night stand. He’s able to get there first, and he hits Virgil in the face. Virgil staggers back, and Deceit uses the distraction to throw him to the floor.

Virgil snarls and tries to stand up, but Deceit pins him and loops the rope around his hands. He drags Virgil across the room and ties the rest of the rope to the leg of the desk.

“Stop,” Thomas shouts, and suddenly he’s there, right next to Deceit, the guy who’s trying to kill him. “Don’t hurt him, please.”

Deceit turns, and Thomas backs away a few paces until his back hits the wall. His eyes are shiny with fear.

“We won’t tell anyone who you are, I swear,” Thomas babbles.

Deceit takes a step closer to Thomas. Behind him, Virgil spits, “Don’t you fucking dare.” Deceit can hear him struggling against the rope.

Thomas is here, in front of him, and alone. There’s nothing stopping Deceit, no lucky escapes this time. All Deceit has to do is grab the knife and stab him, or strangle him, or bludgeon him with something.

But he doesn’t want to.

A hundred kills and this one makes him hesitate, because – what? Because of an ice pack and a glass of water that is probably drugged? Because he’s seen some of Thomas’ vines and they made him laugh?

Deceit doesn’t hesitate. The training he’s had since he was a child has seen to that.

Something is wrong. He needs to regroup, figure out what’s happened and how to change it.

“Stay here,” Deceit orders, and Thomas nods. He doesn’t look relieved, not yet. “If you try to follow me, I’ll kill you. And then I’ll come back and kill him, too.”

Thomas’ breath hitches and he nods again. Behind him, Virgil goes silent. Neither speak as Deceit leaves the room.

When he’s halfway across the living room he hears movement upstairs, and stills, but then there’s nothing except for hushed voices from above, speaking too quiet for Deceit to hear.

He doesn’t look back as he leaves the house. He’ll kill Thomas tomorrow.

[chimchimsauce]

Five Letter Word

Share is a five-letter word. So is fight.

Recreduscense AU for @sordidmusings​. Thank you so much for commissioning me! I hope you enjoy!

Commissions closed. They will open back up in February.

Please note! This is NOT canon. In this au, Cerberus is the only one with YN as their soulmate.

Yoongi huffs, exasperated as he steps through a portal and back into the mortal realm. Yet again, there had been a stir in the Underworld, causing Hades to call his trusted Hellhound down to help him fix up the problem.

It wouldn’t have been such a big deal, had one of the other two gone. But Yoongi is always voted to go and spend hours or even worse - days away from YN.

YN.

Just the thought of their mortal soulmate cheers Yoongi up tremendously. After dealing with the cries and screams of the undead, seeing her will breathe fresh air into his tired form. Hurrying to go find her, Yoongi quickly locates both YN and his other-selves by the sound of their heartbeats.

Preparing to barge in and be wrapped up in three pairs of arms and smothered with kisses from YN, Yoongi stops short in the doorway to the living room, watching from the sidelines as Namjoon and Hoseok snuggle YN between them, all wrapped up in a nice soft blanket.

The blue light from the television illuminates their smiling faces, the way their hands are entwined with each other. They haven’t even looked back at him, even though Yoongi knows for sure that Hoseok and Namjoon should have sensed him by now.

But the thing that ticks him off the most is the fact that they’re watching that new show that had just come out - the show they’d promised to all watch together.

Anger flares up inside of Yoongi quick and hot. Exhausted and with hurt feelings, Yoongi turns around and stomps towards the bedroom, slamming the door with enough force to crack it.

In the other room, YN sits up quickly, alarmed by the noise.

“What was that?” she asks, peeking behind her as if the source of the noise will be standing there.

“Yoongi just got back,” Hoseok says, feeling the anger and hurt in the back of his mind.

The feeling makes him shift uncomfortably. He looks over YN’s head and glances at Namjoon who looks just as apprehensive as he does.

“I wonder what’s wrong,” YN says, turning back around, “I’ll go speak with him.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t find any words to form a valid excuse. Frowning, he just watches from the couch as YN leaves, taking the blanket and all of her warmth with her.

Hoseok pouts.

“I know that she’s not going far, but it hurts every time she leaves . . . even if I know she’s spending time with Yoongi. I’d still rather feel her with my own fingers and see her with my own eyes,” Hoseok says, locking eyes with Namjoon.

The other nods, raking his hands through his hair. He scoots closer to Hoseok, leaning his head on his shoulder. It’s comforting being near another piece of his soul, especially when the other piece is hurting.

YN stops before the splintered bedroom door, her hand hovering inches away from the cracked surface.

It’s obvious that Yoongi is upset about something, but YN isn’t sure if she should interrupt his brooding. Its been a little over half a year since YN went to the BTS concert where she met them. She always had a particular affinity for rapline over the other members, but it still took her by surprise to find out that her adoration for Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon stemmed from something much deeper than she ever could have imagined.

Soulmates.

Even now, that word sends a shiver up her spine. It’s both comforting and terrifying to think that her soul was made to perfectly complete another one. And more shocking than finding out that she was bonded to them was finding out that the boys were actually something she believed to be myth - Cerberus, Hades’ hellhound and three pieces of one soul.

At times it seems impossible that no one else - not even the other members - have noticed how identical they can be. When they’re relaxed or distracted, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon move, speak, and react with perfect synchronization. It’s almost unsettling.

But other times, they couldn’t be more different. Disagreements and sometimes even fights are not uncommon between the triad. They get into spats over the littlest things, like Hoseok leaving the lights on in the bathroom, Namjoon using all the paper towels up and forgetting to buy more, or Yoongi staying up so late that the other two can’t sleep.

Usually all it takes to calm everything down is a few words and touches from YN. Her presence alone can dissolve any animosity almost like magic.

Something deep down in her stomach tells YN that this won’t be the case this time around.

She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

“Yoongi?” she asks softly, knowing that he can hear her.

YN learned about the boys’ shared heightened senses when she sneezed from across the house and they all said ‘Bless you’.

There comes no response from inside, but YN decides to enter anyway.

It doesn’t take her long to find him. Yoongi is situated by the window, glaring through the glass at the sky like it’s done something against him.

“Yoongi?” YN repeats, “You okay? Did something happen in the Underworld?”

Yoongi is silent for several minutes. Just as YN begins to believe that he’s ignoring her, he speaks up.

“No. It was fine. Annoying, but fine.”

YN walks over to him, placing a hand on his back. She tries to catch his eye, but he refuses to look at her.

YN ignores the sting in her chest his lack of attention causes. She knows that Yoongi’s mood probably has nothing to do with her.

“Then what’s wrong? I know that you’re upset.” YN persists.

He’s silent again, opening his mouth as if he’s thinking about speaking, but he quickly shuts it again. He turns to look at her fully.

“Can we just . . . cuddle? I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Yoongi’s voice is soft, vulnerable. All traces of hostility are eradicated, replaced with tender shyness.

“Of course,” YN says, melting, “I’ll call Hos -”

“No!” Yoongi interjects, startling YN.

At her bewildered expression, he clears his throat.

“I just want it to be me and you . . . if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay, Yoongi,” YN says.

She crawls onto the enormous bed in the center of the room, pulling the blanket along with her. One she’s settled among the pillows, YN taps her lap, signaling for Yoongi to lay down.

As soon as his head hits her legs and her fingers drag across his scalp, Yoongi relaxes completely, falling asleep within minutes. And just like that, YN’s movie night with Hoseok and Namjoon comes to an end.

A few days later, the four of them are relaxing outside in their backyard, butterflies floating on the breeze. The weather is warm, YN laying on Yoongi’s lap as Hoseok plays with her fingers, Namjoon reading a novel aloud.

It’s a fairytale, a story about a young girl being chased by a wolf. The tale isn’t quite what YN remembered being told as a child.  Namjoon’s alluring timbre tone has his soulmate’s full attention, the girl completely entranced by the alternate tale.

“And then the huntsman killed the wolf, freeing little red. She lived happily ever after. The end.”

YN feels herself pouting.

“What’s wrong, YN?” Hoseok says, picking up on her upset expression.

“Why did the huntsman kill the wolf? He didn’t do anything wrong. He just tried to show her the way she needed to go.”

“Good intentions are the stepping stones right to hell. Trust us, babygirl.” Yoongi says, unbothered by the injustice.

Before YN can protest, a phone rings, completely disturbing their peaceful afternoon. Namjoon frowns as he picks up his phone, placing the book down.

“Right . . . yes . . . now?” Namjoon says into the device, clearly displeased, “Okay . . . yeah, I’ll bring him. See you soon.”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon says, tossing his phone aside in frustration, “One of the producers fucked up and deleted part of our new song,”

“You’re kidding,” Yoongi says.

“I wish. Bang PD wants us to come in right away.”

Cursing, Yoongi wiggles out from under YN, the woman sitting up to make it easier. When he makes it onto his feet, Yoongi stretches.

“When that bastard dies I’m making sure his soul gets stuck in the worst corner of the Underworld,” Yoongi vows, Namjoon nodding along with him.

And with that, they’re gone, vanished into thin air.

“Just me and you, huh?” Hoseok says, grinning widely at YN.

“I guess so,” YN says, returning his smile with ease, “What do you want to do?”

Hours later, when Namjoon and Yoongi finally return from an exhausting day dealing with the incompetent producers and staff members only to find YN and Hoseok sitting side by side, video game controllers grasped in their hands as they playfully shoulder shove each other, both trying to win.

“We’re back,” Namjoon says.

“Hey guys!” YN says, taking a quick peek behind her shoulder to smile at them but looking right back at the screen a moment later, huffing when she discovers that Hoseok is beating her.

The man in question laughs in glee as YN tries to regain her lead, going so far as to stand up to block the screen. Hoseok resorts to holding his controller with one hand and tickling her with the other.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“You’re not being fair either, YN - ah!”

It’s as if Yoongi and Namjoon aren’t even in the room. The duo grows irritated. They’ve already had a tiring day. The least Hoseok could do is move so they can spend time with YN too.

Hoseok sends the duo a quick look, winking at them and letting them know he knows exactly what they’re thinking. Of course he does. 

“YN,” Yoongi says, “Why don’t you come snuggle with Namjoon and me? We’ve had a long day.”

“Sure,” YN says, “But let me finish up with Hobi first.”

They play well past two AM. When the sound of the TV finally stops, Namjoon finds YN passed out on top of Hoseok, the both of them fast asleep.

When award season rolls around, Bang PD hits the boys with a complete shocker.

“You can bring your girlfriends if you’d like,” he says casually, shuffling papers.

“What?” they say in unison, their shock causing them to forget not to speak at once.

“That’s what you’ve guys been up to lately, right? I may be old, but I’m not stupid. As long as they are prepared for the backlash.”

And with that, they’re dismissed. Pure excitement courses through their veins as they think about finally getting to show YN off.

However, their bubble is burst as a single, innocent though passes through Hoseok’s brain as they teleport home.

Who gets to be her boyfriend in public?

Instantaneously, a fight breaks out. The boys argue so loudly that they nearly wake YN up from her afternoon nap. As soon as they hear her begin to toss and turn under her blanket, they make their way outdoors.

“It should be me,” Yoongi insists.

“Oh please,” Hoseok scoffs, “No one’s going to believe that you ever left the studio long enough to get a girlfriend.”

Offended, Yoongi looks taken aback before his expression hardens. He’s preparing to give Hoseok what for when Namjoon interrupts.

“I’ve spent the least time with her recently. Between comforting Yoongi’s moody ass and playing games with Hoseok until the buttcrack of dawn, I’ve hardly gotten to be around her at all.

Sope find themselves without a proper response.

“It’s settled then. She’s going with me. YN, dear!” he calls out, walking back into the house, “Guess where we’re going next week!”

Nervously, YN checks her reflection in the mirror for the millionth time in the last hour.

“You look gorgeous, YN. Stop fretting,” Yoongi says from his place relaxed on the couch.

“Absolutely perfect,” Hoseok agrees.

In all honesty, the two of them are quite nervous. YN looks gorgeous, definitely. Matter of fact, that’s the entire problem. She looks like heaven on Earth and they’re supposed to pretend that she’s simply their bandmate’s girlfriend. 

Hoseok pulls at his tie, hoping the night goes by quickly.

But it doesn’t.

Each moment drags on forever. Painfully slow, Yoongi has to watch YN laugh with Namjoon, placing her hand on his shoulder and pretending like she can’t see the longing look on Yoongi’s face. At one point Hoseok reaches for her hand and YN turns away from him, pretending not to see.

Pretending, pretending.

And finally, finally when it’s almost over, the boys stand for their final photograph. Namjoon brings YN close and kisses her, the cameras going berserk as Hoseok and Yoongi see red, absolutely furious. It’s all they can do to force a smile until it’s time to leave, making up an excuse not to celebrate with the others.

As soon as they get home, Hoseok has his hands around Namjoon’s throat, Yoongi not far behind.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Yoongi shouts at Namjoon, pain and anger lacing his tone.

Namjoon grins, hand coming up to pry Hoseok’s hand away from his airway. Yoongi, overcome, socks Namjoon right in the jaw.

“STOP IT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” YN cries out, rushing into the fray and pulling them all apart, “WHAT’S BEEN WRONG WITH YOU LATELY?”

None of them can meet her eyes, all ashamed of themselves for upsetting her.

“FOR THE PAST MONTH YOU’VE ALL BEEN A MOODY MESS! What am I supposed to think, huh? You’re not telling me anything! I don’t know what’s wrong . . . I don’t know how to help!”

YN’s face is red from screaming, her blotchy face giving away the fact that tears are soon coming. 

All at once, the three of them rush to comfort her, pulling her in close.

“We’re sorry, YN” Namjoon says, “So so sorry.”

“It’s all our fault,” Yoongi agrees, stroking her hair.

“You’d think sharing a soul would mean we’d always get along but . . .” he pauses, looking away from YN’s sniffling face to Namjoon and Yoongi, “I guess we don’t know how to not get jealous.”

Saying it aloud makes him realize how ridiculous they’re being. They cringe in tandem.

“Jealous? Of what? Of who?”

“I . . . each other I guess. It’s stupid. We’re sorry,” Namjoon says, embarrassed.

“You know I love all of you right? That my soul is bonded with each part of yours,” YN says, face softening at their ashamed expressions, “There’s no reason to be jealous.”

“We’re sorry,” they say, refusing to look at her.

“It’s okay. Just tell me when you feel this way next time, okay? I love spending time with all of you. You’re all precious to me.”

YN opens her arms and they step into them, feeling their connection grow even stronger.

There will be bumps in the road, but they’ll overcome them. They are soulmates after all.

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 11 | Fringe & Change | 7.2k words

Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Masterlist

a/n: 6 weeks later & we’re finally back !!!! thank you all for your patience & thanks to gwen for listening to me complain about writers block week after week. I’m very excited to get back to sharing this story with y’all. 

as always, reblogging helps a ton & comments & feedback are ALWAYS WELCOME !!!! 

Warnings: brief mentions of anxiety & panic attacks 

Here’s part 11 ! 

Aurora’s standing next to Harry, a drink in her hand when Niall launches into “Drag Me Down.” She flashes Harry the biggest grin before singing along, just as she has with every song. Harry smiles back at her, she doesn’t see it but he doesn’t care. He finds himself singing along to a song he used to sing night after night on stage. It’s strange to watch Niall sing his own version and Harry figures Niall felt the same when he sang his own arrangement of their old tunes back in Dublin. Harry looks back to Aurora. She can feel his eyes on her but waits for the song to end before turning to him. 

Her fingers are delicate and barely touch Harry’s neck as she reaches up to him. Her lips brush against his ear before she speaks. “I miss your bit at the end,” Aurora shares and Harry chuckles lowly. She doesn’t pull away though and Harry takes the opportunity to pull her into him with an arm around her waist. His fingers find where the hem of Aurora’s shirt meets the top of her jeans. As Aurora presses her lips to the warm skin of Harry’s neck she can feel his calloused fingertips press into her skin. 

“Havin’ fun, love?” Harry assures. Aurora doesn’t have to verbally respond because the smile on her face after pressing another lingering kiss to the base of his neck says it all. 

Aurora feels warm and it’s not just because of the hot humid air of Buenos Aires. It’s the heat that's radiating from where Harry’s hand is pressed against her skin. The heat that flushes the tops of her cheeks from the cheap alcohol. The heat in her jaw because she hasn't stopped smiling for the better part of 2 hours. She gets to see Harry perform live almost daily, she gets that concert feeling every night, but to share it with him is something different. To share this experience in the traditional way for the first time is another one of those moments she’ll look back on forever. 

Many things are similar to the aftermath of Harry’s shows - showing their passes to the security guard at the gate near the stage, the ringing in Aurora’s ears from the screams, the scratchy feeling in her throat from singing (badly, at that), the buzzing feeling that lingers in her body from the music. The difference is the feeling of Harry’s hand in hers as they slide backstage to find Niall. 

Aurora also notices the striking difference between Niall’s backstage post show and Harry’s. Niall and Harry may have done this together years ago, running off stage together and onto a crammed tour bus but they’ve both found their own way on their own. It's a different kind of loud and chaotic after Niall’s show. Niall’s band is following him to a large green room that is equally as rowdy as a group of guys headed into a party. They’re high off the show and honestly so are Aurora and Harry. 

“So how’d ya enjoy the show?” Niall asks, his Irish accent thick, before taking a chug of water. 

“Rory enjoyed it the most I think. Belted out every single word,” Harry answers as he tucks Aurora into his side. Aurora crosses her arms in front of her in lieu of wrapping one around his waist. 

Niall’s dropped to the couch, his chest still heaving from the performance. 

“Hey,” Aurora whines as Harry and Niall laugh together. “You didn’t miss too many lyrics yourself, Har,” she playfully bites back. 

“Know all the words to my album, Haz? That’s what I like to hear.” 

“Don’t trust a thing she says,” Harry jokes before kissing the top of Aurora’s head. Niall’s laughter echoes off the walls. 

“Hey, I’d be a bit nicer to Aurora. I like her quite a bit. Don’t want you to chase her away so soon,” Niall advises with a wink to Harry. 

“Unfortunately, I think it’d take a lot more than that to chase me away,” Aurora tells Niall. “Anyways, who else is gonna get him dressed?” Niall’s laughing again and his band joins in, Aurora as well. Harry rolls his eyes trying to subside his own laugh but eventually joins in. 

Aurora relaxes into one of the leather covered chairs and Harry sits on the wide arm rest when Niall asks them if they want to stay for a bit and have beer or 2. Aurora leans forward to rest her elbows on Harry’s knees, her chest falling against his thigh. Harry presses the cold bottle of beer to the back of Aurora’s bare neck making her jump from the sudden change in temperature. He switches the bottle to the opposite and lightly digs his fingers into the muscles in Aurora's shoulders. Bending down he kisses her temple before whispering, “We can go whenever you want,” softly, reassuringly. 

Aurora’s extent of her anxiety had been brought up in conversation a few nights ago, Harry wanting to be able to help or at least do what he can to subside it if possible. Nobody had ever asked her how they could help or understood enough to want to know more. Her parents tried to understand, they really did, but something to do with the generational gap made it hard for them to really get it, to believe it even. So when Harry asked about it out of nowhere Aurora was shocked. 

She explained what it's like in different ways and how it comes about. The social anxiety aspect of new people and new places is what triggered Harry’s question just now. She told him about how she’ll feel trapped like she can’t go anywhere and she doesn’t want to create a scene, doesn’t want to offend anyone by leaving. She talked about the anxiety she had from the thought of a new hotel room and new arena every day before she left New York. But she was pleasantly surprised when it felt okay, that the faces became familiar and even though they were new arena’s daily, the pink flowers and TPWK signs became comforting. Harry’s heart swelled when Aurora shared the last bit. After she answered all his questions and told him about how she copes and what he can do that would make it easier, better even, Aurora thanked him. She thanked him over and over again when she crawled into his lap. She thanked him as she pulled off his shirt and kissed the swallow tattoos on his chest. She thanked him when she sank down on him. She shared everything that night, her mind, her body, all of it. She had never felt so understood, so safe.

Harry can tell Aurora’s in another world, squeezing her shoulder, he says her name softly. She looks up to him, a hint of worry in his eyes. She smiles, the memory of nights prior still floating in her head. The worry washes away when Aurora takes his hand that’s on her shoulder and presses a kiss to the palm of it. 

“I’m good right now,” she reassures him. “Thanks for asking.” 

“What're you thinking ‘bout?” 

“I’ll tell ya later.” 

She does tell him later, after they’ve said their goodbyes to Niall, after the car ride back to the hotel, after they get into Harry’s hotel room. She tells him between kisses. She tells him how nobody has ever said “we can go whenever you want” in any way and meant it. She tells him how she was thinking about how she thanked him and how she couldn't stop thinking about it. 

It doesn’t take them long to rid each other of their clothes. It was early morning by the time they fell asleep, their bodies sticky with sweat but too tired to shower now. 

Morning comes too fast and Harry groans into the back of Aurora’s neck when the alarm goes off. He turns away from her, his arm sliding from her waist to call room service. Aurora only pays enough attention to make sure he orders plenty of coffee and then lets herself succumb to sleep again. 

She wakes up only a little bit later when there’s a knock on the door. Harry’s curls hang heavy from his shower and Aurora can’t help but giggle as he tries to blow some of the curls from his forehead as he sets her coffee on the bedside table nearest her. 

After Harry and her eat breakfast, Harry has to jump on a call and Aurora decides to shower back in her own hotel room where her suitcase still is. Considering they had spent most of the past 10 days together, the morning and afternoon apart is nice. She takes a nap and catches up on a few shows, somewhat of a normal day for her. 

Aurora is excited to get back to the shows. To get back to seeing Harry on stage, to seeing Helene, to tour life again. It may have only been just over a week but she misses it. She gets it now, when Harry talks about touring being his favourite part. Aurora’s surprised how much she loves it. 

| | | | |

Aurora’s in the middle of sending a text message when Harry comes from nowhere and pulls her along with a tight grip on her hand. Aurora’s eyebrows furrow as a giggle leaves her mouth after his name does. When she gets a good look at him she smiles. He’s preemptively put on his black St Laurent trousers for his show tonight in Santiago but instead of the green glittery shirt he’s meant to be wearing, he has a white Treat People With Kindness t-shirt tucked in. 

“Come on, Angel,” he says with a smile as he walks them through the hall. The music and noise from the audience grows. 

“Harry, where’re we going?” Aurora almost shouts so he can hear her over the ever growing music. He flashes her a smirk, a dimple showing up. 

He nods his head at one of the security guards at a double door and they open a door for them. Aurora thanks the guard with a smile before getting pulled along behind Harry. He slows his pace so she can catch up with him. Once she’s standing by his side, his hand drops from hers and throws his arm around her shoulders. He leads Aurora the rest of the way to where a set of metal stairs lead to the stage. Aurora smiles up at Harry when they stop. He quickly kisses her cheek and his arm slides further over her shoulders, his hand hanging off casually. Harry hums along to ‘Shy’ as Leon Bridges performs on stage. 

Though a moment like this isn’t deemed normal by most, it feels completely and utterly normal for Harry and Aurora. Both loving the time spent together at Niall’s show, they grasp onto that feeling - the feeling of music making them closer, reaching a new spot in their souls. He continues to hum and sing along throughout Leon’s set and Aurora finds herself closing her eyes, soothed by the live music and his low humming near her ear. 

Harry moves to stand directly behind Aurora, his hands sliding up and down Aurora’s arms while kissing the back of her neck as “Bet Ain’t Worth the Hand” finishes. As the audience cheers for Leon, his hands pause at her shoulders before falling forward, hovering over the front of Aurora casually. He sneaks a kiss behind Aurora’s ear and she giggles at the soft touch, her hands reaching up to settle on his forearms. Aurora turns her head just enough to leave a light kiss at the hinge of Harry’s jaw as “River” begins. 

She sighs, remembering the night in Harry's car in London,  her body relaxing completely into his. She can still remember the sparkle in his eye, even in the dark of the car, and the small smile when Aurora mentioned loving this specific song and her excitement to hear it live. 

There’s a warmth radiating off of Harry’s chest and spreading across Aurora’s back. She can feel the rattle of his chest from the vibrations of the speakers mixed with his quiet singing. His lips are centimeters from her ear. Every couple of words they brush against the shell of her ear, sending continuous shivers down Aurora’s spine. Aurora settles a kiss on his arm, on his bicep near his anatomical heart tattoo. Aurora lets her lips graze there for a moment, completely caught up in the music and the incredibly safe feeling she’s overwhelmed with being wrapped in Harry’s arms. The broadness of his shoulders and his height allows for him to completely envelope her when he crosses his arms over her chest, pulling her into his chest even more. Aurora continues to sink into his chest, melting into his t-shirt and feeling like there is no end to how far she can fall into him. Aurora can feel his slight scruff rub against her cheek every so often. The roughness mixed with the softness of his voice is a feeling that she can’t describe but it makes her heart beat a little faster. 

Harry sways every so often, perfectly in time with the strum of the guitar and rattle of the tambourine. The song is nearing the end and the audience is singing along with Leon, the lyrics echo through the arena. Aurora lets her hands drop from his arms and twists around to face him. She wraps her arms around his neck as his wrap around her waist, hands clasping his opposite elbows to pull her in closer. Her hips are square on his, a place she finds herself more often than not. Careful not to ruin the curls Ayae has already set in place, Aurora barely weaves her fingers in the hair at his neck. Harry brushes his nose against hers before he looks her in the eyes. The vocals coming from stage are just as vulnerable as they feel right now. Not a single person in the crew that is bustling around backstage is relevant to them right now. Aurora and Harry feel as if they are the only people standing there in the dark, Leon singing to them and only them. They meet in the middle, Harry’s lips taking in Aurora’s bottom one first. The kiss is slow and deep. When Harry pulls away barely a millimeter it’s only to tilt his head to deepen the kiss. 

A 4 minute song. A moment for just the 2 of them. A memory from weeks ago. Aurora wishes somehow that there was a way that she could have 2 Harry’s - one to perform his show on stage and one to love on as she enjoyed the show. Show him how much she loves him. How much she loves listening to him, watching him perform. She’ll have to think of more ways to show how much moments like these mean to her. Ways to show him how she wishes she could hold him as he sang has heart out. Show him how he really is that shining light. 

And that’s when the opening lyrics of “River” hit Aurora. Lyrics she’s heard a million times. 

“Been traveling these wide roads for so long

My heart's been far from you

Ten-thousand miles gone”

It may be a spiritually inspired song, but for Aurora, especially in this moment with Harry's lips on hers, it's all about them. Coming from miles away from each other, only to travel thousands and thousands of miles together. Hearts finally feeling safe again. 

| | | | |

The stage set up is different for the South American leg. Without the rising screen, Harry walks on stage in full view as the opening of ‘Only Angel’ begins. The second he’s on the stage, the minimal lights that are shining on the stage catch the sparkle of the rhinestones that cover each strip of fringe. He faces Sarah’s drum kit, takes a swig of water then raises his arms out to the side showcasing the beautiful detail of his jacket - fringe hanging down from his arms and a row across his back. . Aurora can’t help but smile and the second he turns around as the music kicks off there’s a giant smile on Harry’s face as well. 

Aurora’s standing off to the side of the pit, leaning against the wall of the tunnel that leads you in and out of the arena. She sinks her hands into the pockets of her pants as a sigh leaves her lips. Subconsciously, she sings along, song after song. She admires the way he almost saunters across the stage, how he effortlessly draps his hands on the mic stand, the way his hair, even when completely disheveled, is always just so, how he exudes confidence and inclusion, how his voice transports the entire audience to a new place. 

During ‘Ever Since New York’ he has to stop singing a few times because he can’t avoid the smile that appears on his face. It makes it impossible to sing the lyrics and Aurora smiles too. She knows that smile. He’s explained it before, it’s like he can’t believe what he’s seeing in front of him, can’t believe it’s real. 

Aurora’s heart feels heavy in her chest every time he slows down and sings ‘Meet Me In The Hallway’. The care and focus that goes into every note. The pained look on his face that she wants nothing more than to erase. The softness of his closed eyes contradict the tension in his jaw when the words “you left me in the hallway” come floating out of his mouth and echo through the arena. 

He’s back on the main stage, guitar slung over his shoulder after running back from the Bstage. Laughter rumbles through the audience every so often during ‘Anna” as the fringe on his sleeve gets stuck on the pins at the bridge, then again on the strings. It doesn’t faze him though, he keeps going like it really didn’t happen. He does laugh at himself after the song ends, trying to talk with the audience but his habit of talking with his hands fires back at him. The fringe becomes somewhat of a spectacle after he has to yank it from the opening of the guitar when he eventually takes it off. 

The fringe really adds to the chaos of Harry’s dancing during ‘What Makes You Beautiful.’ The rhinestones catch every light and just like many times before, he’s his own disco ball it seems. He tries to clip the mic back into its stand while he sings the chorus again, but the fringe flies and gets trapped before the mic fits in it’s home. He shakes his head as he messes with it and continues singing. The smile that’s become permanent on his face only grows bigger. 

It’s during ‘The Chain’ and ‘Kiwi’ that she starts to see a few red strips of fabric fall to the floor. Aurora laughs for a bit as she watches Harry on stage but then it turns to a groan when she realises that she’ll have to fix the jacket for tomorrow. 

“Guess fringe on your sleeves wasn’t the most functional thing,” Aurora says to Harry as she takes the jacket off his shoulders. “Looks like you shredded a few and ripped some off when they got stuck on your guitar strings,” she laughs. 

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. 

“No worries, I’ll just fix 'em tomorrow.” Aurora takes a closer look at the sleeves once it’s back on the hanger. “I could adjust it a bit if the fringey bits were annoying, just move them away from the cuff,” Aurora offers. 

“Didn’t really notice ‘em until they got snagged, but even then it didn’t bother me.” 

“Okay, let me know if you change your mind before I work on it tomorrow.” Harry hums. 

“You did really great tonight, feel like I don’t say it enough,” Aurora compliments, a feeling of guilt at the bottom of her stomach. She takes the trousers from Harry, hanging them up besides the jacket. “You always do great,” she adds. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Aurora can see in the mirror off to the side, his dimple sinking in and a smirk coming across his face. “Didn’t realise how much I truly love watching you on stage until this past week.” 

It wasn’t until Harry got back up on stage in Buenos Aires that Aurora realised how much she missed seeing him on stage. It wasn’t until then that she realised they’d be traveling back to the US and that they’re more than halfway through the tour. It’s not that she hadn’t been enjoying it. Aurora always gets this way when something is nearing the end. Like in the last semester of college and during the last few weeks of high school, she had gotten this weird feeling in her chest, something that almost resembled regret but she didn’t have too many regrets from high school or college. The same feeling appeared at the end of her internship with Harry Lambert, but there were absolutely no regrets then. She finally put it into words what this almost regretful, sad, deep feeling was. It was simply her not wanting change, not wanting to lose the familiarity of her current life. Why should things end when you’re enjoying them? Living in the moment, as cliche as it is, is what Aurora has to remind herself--remind herself to enjoy what’s happening right now rather than what will come later. So here she is, after watching him perform on stage, a range of emotions flowing through her, all interrupting what she’s trying to get out. How does she tell the rockstar in front of her that she loves him in every sense of the word. That she loves him on and off stage. How does she explain that she thinks she’s scared of what the end of the tour will bring. And at the end of the day, how does she, Aurora Marie Del Gatto from a small suburb in New York, get to love the rockstar that performs on stage every night to thousands of people and the man that is so inherently down to earth and loving? 

Aurora takes his sweaty white button down from him and hangs that up as well and instead of bringing up what’s actually running through her head she says, “Should wear the black button down tomorrow, I’ll get the white one dry cleaned when we get to the US.” 

She turns to Harry as he’s pulling down a black t-shirt over his stomach. He runs a hand through the mess of hair on his head, a soft smile on his relaxed face. The look he gives her organizes her brain in an instant it feels like.“I always knew I loved watching you on stage, but seeing you back up there-” she pauses and shakes her head. “Being with you is one thing,” she continues as she steps closer to him, a light touch of her hand along his jaw, “but seeing you up there… it’s something else.” Aurora’s other hand reaches for his face before she speaks again. “I’m- I’m- I don’t even know if I have the word to explain it properly.” A shake of her head like she’s rattling her unorganized thoughts around in her head.  “Proud of you,” she says simply before she presses her lips to his. Harry’s arms wrap around Aurora’s waist tightly, simultaneously bringing her closer to him and opening his mouth up to kiss her more. It’s Aurora who pulls away first, both of their chest rising and falling more than before. Her hands move from his face, then scratch at his back before she’s properly hugging him. Aurora’s arms are heavy on his shoulders and she feels his jaw move slightly as she noses at the vein in his neck. 

It could be 2 minutes or 2 hours later when Harry loosens his grip on Aurora, pulling away from her, his smile bright but tired. Harry hums as he kisses her temple. 

“I’m gonna make the rounds, quick,” he says, his voice gravelly and tired. 

“I promised Issac, I’d call him tonight.” Aurora’s mentioned Issac, her best friend from childhood, a few times to Harry. “He’s 2 hours behind us so it’s kind of a perfect time for him,” she explains. Besides her sister, Issac knows absolutely everything, maybe even more. He wasn’t the best with advice but he always listened. Issac and Aurora always joked about how they are pretty much the same person while they were growing up and even in adulthood not much has changed. 

“Oh yeah,” he says, remembering Aurora mentioning it earlier. “I’m sorry, just tired.” 

Aurora’s eyebrows furrow, “no need to be sorry.” She lifts a hand to his face, “get some rest, okay? and I’ll see you tomorrow,” she assures him. 

“Ror, thanks for uh-” he doesn’t know how to thank her for what she said earlier. “Thanks for-” 

“No need to thank me,” she cuts him off, shaking her head. She reaches up to kiss him one last time for the night. “I love you, Harry.” 

“Love you too,” he whispers with a squeeze to her waist then a hand through her hair. 

Aurora waves to everyone in the arena saying goodnight and see ya tomorrow’s to everyone see passes. It's pretty much perfect timing when her phone rings as she unlocks her hotel room door no more than 15 minutes later. 

“Issac!” she greets him when his face shows up on her phone. His hair is hidden by one of the many national park hats he owns and his face is covered by his thick beard. 

“Roo!” he says excitedly. When they first met when they were 5, ‘Aurora’ wasn’t the easy name to pronounce and Issac being Issac came up with his own nickname for her and ‘Roo’ was it.

“How are you?” she asks, setting the phone down on the bathroom counter. 

“I’m great! My last trip was amazing. The dogs loved it and I got some really good photos.” Issac is a photographer for the National Park Service which means lots of camping trip and lots of traveling. “I’ll have to send you some photos tomorrow when I edit them.” 

“Yes please! Where are the pups?” 

Issac turns his facetime to the back camera. His 2 Australian shepards are passed out next to each other on the rug. “They’re always so tired when we get back,” Issac comments as he flips the camera back to him. Aurora aw’s as his dogs as she wipes the makeup off her face. “How was the show tonight?” 

“Really good.” 

“I know that look,” Issac comments. “Tell me more.” 

Issac reads her better than anyone, Aurora didn’t even know she had a specific look on her face. “I don’t know,” she says, drying off her face and then moving to drop herself on the bed. “Adult feelings are hard,” Aurora says with a laugh. 

“You guys already said ‘I love you’ and are sleeping together… what else could there be?” 

Aurora groans. “Him being an international rockstar messes with my head sometimes and tour is almost over.” 

“Ohhhh,” Issac says realising what’s happening. He’s been there for every single ‘existential dread of change’ conversation--his name for it, not hers. “Roo, you’ve got a full month of tour in front of you and if you think Harry’s gonna drop you the second that last show ends you’ve got something coming.” 

“You don’t know that,” she says with a frown. “Roo, do you not think he actually loves you?”

“No!” she says quickly. “I’m not questioning that!” 

“If you’re not questioning that then why would you even think anything is going to change?” 

“Things always change and touring is a different world. Once tour is over, everything changes.” 

“Not everything will change. He’ll still love you after that last show and you’ll both start something new. He’ll make more music, you’ll keep styling him and maybe your boss will get you some other jobs in the meantime.” Aurora lets out a heavy sigh. “And he’ll tour again and you’ll do it again.” 

“I know you’re right. You always are with these things,” she sighs again. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you, too.” 

“Thanks for talking me down,” 

“Always.” 

“Now, shall we drink and talk or drink and watch a movie?” 

Issac gets a cold beer from his fridge and Aurora orders wine via room service. They decide on a movie they’ve both seen a million times because without a doubt they’ll end up talking through it anyways. When the movie ends they continue chatting through the credits. 

“Okay, you compare the tour dates with your calendar and then let me know which one works for you,” Aurora confirms. 

“Maybe I'll just tag along on the rest of the tour,” he jokes. 

They’re both laughing despite their tiredness but they eventually stop and say goodnight. 

Aurora snuggles into the hotel bed after messing with the sheets and tossing the extra pillows to the floor. She falls asleep fast now that her head is clear, the feeling in her chest is not so heavy--the magic effects of a facetime with her best friend. 

| | | | | 

Aurora’s sat on the worn down couch in Harry’s dressing room, Harry’s fringe covered jacket that he wore the night before sprawled across her lap, those random Gucci pillows to her left. In front of her on the coffee table, her laptop is propped open, her mother’s smiling face looking back at her. 

“Yeah, I’ve gotta reattach the ones we still have and then I’m making some makeshift ones to fill any other empty space.” 

“You know better than anyone that you should always do a dress rehearsal,” Aurora’s mom reminds her. 

“Mom,” she groans, “yes, I know that, but that’s kinda hard when there’s almost 100 looks. We didn’t have much time before the tour started.” 

“Doesn’t he rehearse or something before each show?” Aurora rolls her eyes. She is more annoyed with herself than her mother right now. 

“Soundcheck, yeah.” She lets out a sigh. “I should’ve had him wear the jacket for soundcheck at least.” Aurora threads a needle with red thread that matches the fringe. “Didn’t really cross my mind. Everything was already designed and made with him performing on stage and everything, but I didn’t think about things getting stuck in his guitar. I was only thinking about how amazing the fringe would look as he danced around.” 

“Rory, sweetie, it’s okay, this is your job anyways, yeah? Making sure he looks good on stage, making repairs and all. I saw a few videos and you were right about how amazing it looks.” 

“Yeah it’s fine. I just can’t believe it didn’t cross my mind.” Aurora shakes her head with a laugh. “Anyways, how’ve you been doing?” 

“Busy at work but Leila came to visit last weekend. She tells me you’re pretty smitten,” her mom shares. 

“Leila,” Aurora hisses. “What on earth did she tell you?” She asks with her eyes narrowed. She does a quick look at the door and it’s still only ajar like she left it. She’d prefer not to have this conversation with everyone being in earshot but this is the best she could do now. 

“More than you have.” 

“Mom, come on! You can’t expect me to tell you everything or that I tell you everything I tell Leila!” Aurora drops her head back and it lands on the back of the couch. “Leila has something else coming for her when I see her.” 

“Aurora Marie,” her mother scolds. Aurora groans. “If it makes you feel better I don’t think she told me everything, but it was still more than you’ve shared.” Aurora looks at her mom through the webcam on her laptop. “She said you stayed at his house in London,” her mother’s eyes soften, trying to relay that she's concerned and skeptical before she continues, “and that he also acted extremely jealous-”

“Do not,” Aurora warns her mother. “Do not pretend like you know anything.” 

“Aurora, I’m just worried,” she pleads.

“Harry is not Adrian.” Aurora can’t believe she even has to say that sentence out loud. She can feel her chest tighten up. She catches a glimpse of what she looks like in the small rectangle at the top of the screen and she’s met with her own scowl. Aurora closes her eyes and lets out a breath through her nose. “It was nowhere near the same situation, Mom. I can promise you that.” She can’t believe her mom had the audacity to even think about comparing Harry to her ex boyfriend, Adrian. 

“It’s hard not to make those conclusions if you’re keeping things from me.”

“Can you see why I didn’t tell you?” 

“Rory, please, you have to understand that I worry, it’s my job.” Aurora can see her mother is trying to apologize. 

“Mom, you have to trust me. Yes, Adrian was a jealous asshole and it ruined me. You don’t have to remind me, I was the one in the relationship.” Aurora doesn’t want to go through this. At this point she’d rather Leila told their mother about her sex life. “But this is not Adrian, it’s Harry and the situation was completely different.” 

“A jealous man is a jealous man,” her mother says with what seems to be an all knowing tone. 

“Mom, stop, please. It was so far from anything that I have ever dealt with before,” Aurora’s growing frustration is boiling in her chest now. Neither of them speak for a minute. Aurora is running through her thoughts trying to find a way to explain this in a way her mother will understand. “Harry’s different. The whole situation was completely different.” A memory sparks and Aurora takes a deep breath. “Okay, look at it this way. You know how I used to get during dance competitions? When I was overly exhausted and stressed? All my emotions at an all time high? That’s what tour is like, but times 10. Harry’s on stage almost every night and add in the traveling and sprinkle in the stress of our new relationship, which at the time was not official. I was stressed over the last part. I had just met his mom and sister and all his friends and I won’t go into it but there was a lot going on. There was a lot going on for both of us and in the midst of the exhaustion and stress and all the other emotions that were floating around, Harry jumped to conclusions. His brain played tricks on him.” Aurora pauses for a moment, her mom nodding along with the explanation. “My brain did the same to me during competitions. You know what that looks like, you know exactly what happened all of those times. I always needed a reasoning voice to calm me down, to explain to me what was really going on. You had to be tough on me sometimes, but you did it because you love me. I dealt with Harry the same way, with love and care but didn’t take any bullshit.” Aurora’s mother sighs then purses her lips together in thought. “Harry did not act on his jealousy like Adrian did. He came to me, we talked it out. I made him apologize.” 

Okay is all her mom says so Aurora goes on. 

“Mom, you’ve gotta trust me. I’ve learned from the past. I’ve grown up. I’m doing good. and god, I’ve never been happier.” 

“I can see that,” her mom says with a smile. “I don’t know how much I have to say this, but I will always worry about you.” 

“Please just try to not worry so much.” They look at each other through the screen. “I love you,” Aurora reminds her mother with a smile. 

“I love you too, sweetie.” 

“Any other burning concerns?” Aurora jokes. Her mother shakes her head with a soft laugh. “Good, anyways, not long till I’ll see you and you’ll get to meet him.” 

“Can’t wait!” Her mother beams. 

“Well, I called ‘cause I missed ya but also ‘cause I had a question.” Aurora hears the door creak and she turns her head to see it open and Harry come through. He’s wearing an old red t-shirt and black workout shorts. It’s clear he’s just finished training with the sweat clinging to his curls, the water bottle in his hand and his headphones in his ears. 

“What was the question?” Aurora’s mother’s voice brings her attention back to the screen and the jacket in her lap. 

“Yeah, so I have to make a few more fringe pieces to replace the missing ones and I couldn’t decide which fabric would match best,” Aurora reaches to the side of her for the few pieces of fabric she pulled from her case earlier. 

“Hiya, Ror,” Harry says softly as he rounds the back of the couch. “Oh hello,” he says surprisingly when he sees an older woman on the screen. “You must be Rory’s mum,” he concludes. “Ror, looks just like you.” The eyes that stare at him through the computer screen are familiar and her hair is just like Aurora’s only with some flecks of grey throughout the dark dark brown strands. 

“Well hello, Harry,” Aurora’s mom responds with a smile. 

“Don’t want to interrupt,” he comments quickly, “just grabbing a quick kiss and then off to shower.” Aurora’s cheeks heat up quickly as she lets out a disbelieving huff. And with a promise on his word, Harry bends down, tilts Aurora’s chin with his free hand, lands a fleeting kiss on her lips and walks out of frame. Aurora’s mom has a bright smile on her face. 

“What is that look for?” Aurora asks her mom through a giggle she can’t suppress. 

“He’s sweet.” 

“Shush, now help me decide which fabric to use so I can get back to work,” Aurora begs. 

“My mom thinks you’re sweet,” Aurora says as she stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom of the hotel room. Harry’s ears perk up and he follows her voice. When he leans against the door frame of the bathroom he smiles at the sight in front of him. 

The pair of cotton cut off shorts Aurora is wearing are rolled at the waistband to make up for the fact that they’ve stretched out over the years she’s had them. One of the few tour t-shirts she’s acquired over the past few months hangs loose off her shoulders and is tucked into the waistband of her shorts. Hot pink fuzzy socks cover her feet. 

“Does she?” Harry asks as he crosses his arms over his chest. Aurora’s face is covered in soap now. She reaches for a clean washcloth to wet and wipe the soap from her face. She smiles at him through the mirror as she hums back to him. “and why’s that?” 

“Well we were talking about you, had to clear some things up but then you came in and said Hi to her and then she didn’t question a thing.” Harry’s eyebrows furrow at the answer. He decides to walk into the bathroom and leans against the counter, his back to the mirror and head turned towards Aurora. She’s applying a new product from a blue bottle to her face, Harry doesn’t pay much attention to what it is, more interested in Aurora’s admission. 

“What d’ya mean clear things up?” 

“Oh,” Aurora says softly. She reaches out a hand to one of his forearms that’s crossed over his chest. She squeezes it before dropping her hand and grabbing another beauty product from her makeup back. “Nothing you have to worry about. She brought up my ex from a few years ago. He wasn’t-” Aurora pauses and looks to Harry, “he wasn’t the greatest.” She applies moisturize before she continues, Harry's eye’s not moving from her face. She takes a deep breath then turns her whole body so she can comfortably look at him. “My mother worries that every guy I meet is going to be like him. No need for me to go into detail but, he was obscenely jealous. No matter what I did he got upset over it. I thought I loved him at the time and didn’t really see how bad it was. Took a lot of convincing from my friend and Leila and my mom that he was bad news. He really messed with my head for awhile.” Aurora sighs as she searches Harry’s face. She can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but his brows are furrowed, a crease in his forehead and there’s tension in his arms that wasn’t there before. “But I learned from it, know how I deserve to be treated now.” 

“You deserve the world,” Harry says and it surprises Aurora. “Just hope I can give you it.” 

Aurora’s eyebrows raise in the middle of her face and her lips part. Never has anyone said something like that to her. She releases a breath before a small smile creeps up on her face. 

“Think you might deserve even more than the world,” Harry adds. 

Not even a full second passes before Aurora is cradling Harry’s face and placing a bruising kiss to his lips. Just as fast, Harry’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her body into his. “I’m gonna try my damndest to give you it though,” he says against her mouth when they pull apart momentarily. Twisting them around, he grips her waist tighter and lifts her onto the empty space on the bathroom counter. 

“I hope to do the same for you, ya know,” Aurora whispers back to him. Their foreheads are pressed together and they just look at each other for a moment. They end up giggling and Aurora can’t help but kiss each and every crinkle that appears on Harry's face as he smiles that smile, the one she’s pretty sure he saves just for her. She starts at his dimples, which are so deep that they seem never ending. She kisses high on his cheek, leading to the creases at his eyes. It’s here she can see the brightness of the green in his eyes even through the squint he has right now. Her kisses land on the bridge of his nose and travel down following the lines that appear as he scrunches his nose, giggles still leaving his mouth. She gives up on trying to land a kiss on every single crease and line and divot and decides to kiss every square inch of his face before she finds his lips again. They’re both giggling lightly still and thought it makes it hard to kiss properly, they don’t stop. Their teeth knock together several times, kisses barely landing on each other's lips but they don’t care. 

It’s long past midnight but neither of them care to move from where they are. Tomorrow’s a travel day, they can catch up on sleep thenn. And anyways, standing in the crappy fluorescent lighting of the hotel bathroom Harry can’t help but think about how he’s falling more in love by the second. 

Her laughter mixes with his and it echoes off the tiled walls and it sounds just like a song. 

__________

thanks for reading !!! I hope you enjoyed !!! 

[littlespoonevan]

Gallavich + "You want me to do /what/?” :)

i became overwhelmed with a need for mickey to be held so then this happened askjdf i hope you like it, bb

*

Ian getting up before Mickey isn’t exactly a rareoccurrence – if his alarm doesn’t wake him, his internal body clock alwaysdoes. You end up taking your meds at the same time every morning for about fouryears and that’ll happen. So it’s not all that unusual for him to leave asleeping Mickey in bed in the morning while Ian gets a head start on his day.

What isunusual is that Mickey still isn’t up by the time Ian’s sitting down forbreakfast.

Sure, Mickey isn’t really a morning person and hetends to take longer to drag himself out of bed than Ian does but he’s alwaysup by now. Especially on a morning that he has work.

Setting his half-eaten toast aside, Ian makes his wayback upstairs to their room. He frowns when he finds Mickey still curled up onhis side, seemingly fast asleep. Crouching down beside their bed, he cards hisfingers through Mickey’s hair. “Mick,” he calls softly. “Time to get up.”

Mickey makes an unintelligible noise but doesn’totherwise react except to lean into Ian’s touch a bit more.

“You’re gonna be late,” Ian tells him, struggling tokeep the fondness out of his voice as he rubs his thumb over Mickey’s eyebrow. Theheat of Mickey’s skin makes him pause and he presses the back of his hand toMickey’s forehead.

“Hey, Mick, wake up,” Ian coaxes again. “Are youfeeling alright? You’re really hot.”

Mickey groans, rolling onto his back. “Yeah, Ifucking know that, Gallagher. You tell me all the time.”

Ian rolls his eyes, pushing up to sit on the edge ofthe bed. “I mean you’re burning up. Are you sick?”

Mickey grumbles something Ian can’t hear before hehuffs. “I jus’ have a headache. I don’t get sick.”

Ian raises a sceptical eyebrow. “You sure? Because itkinda seems to me like you’re getting the start of a headcold. Y’know,” he addspointedly. “In my professional opinion.”

Mickey glares at him, bunching the covers up betweenhis fists like a five year old. “I’m fine.” As if to prove it he attempts tosit up only to grab Ian’s leg for balance a moment later when he moves tooquickly.

“Call work,” Ian says decisively. “Tell ‘em you’resick.”

“You want me to do what?” Mickey asks, voice flat.

“I want you to use one of your sick days as an actualfucking sick day for once,” Ian replies, gently urging Mickey to lie back down.He’ll take any excuse he can get not to go into work but when he’s actuallycoming down with something suddenly he’s fuckin’ employee of the month.

“Call them,” Ian repeats, grabbing Mickey’s phone offthe nightstand and shoving it into his hand. Mickey glares at him again butdoes as he’s told. As soon as he’s distracted with his phone Ian takes a betterlook at him and he really doesn’tlook too good. His throat sounds scratchy and it’s clearly not just from beingasleep, his cheeks are red and his forehead looks clammy.

Hesitating for only a second, Ian climbs off the bedand reaches for his own phone. He gets through to his boss on the second ring. “Hey,listen I’m sorry this is such short notice but I don’t think I’m gonna make itinto work today.”

He feels Mickey’s gaze snap to him and Ian holds up ahand to stop him from saying anything.

“Yeah,” Ian says down the line. “One of the kid’s issick-“ He gets a middle finger for that one. “-and I can’t send ‘em intonursery with it. I can try to make it in for the afternoononce someone else gets home.”

“No,” his boss sighs on the other end of the phone. “It’salright, take care of the kid. I’ll swap your shift and put you on Saturdayinstead. That sound good?”

“Thanks,” Ian answers gratefully. “I’ll see youtomorrow.”

As soon as he hangs up the phone he turns around tofind Mickey watching him with a petulant scowl, arms folded across his chest. “Thefuck you do that for?”

“They were more likely to let me take the day off if Isaid it was Franny,” Ian says, slipping off his uniform jacket and starting tounbutton his shirt. Now that he actually doesn’t have anywhere to be, sweats soundvery appealing.

“I mean, why’d you take the day off at all, shithead,”Mickey grouses and Ian reminds himself that Mickey’s sick and thereforeunderstandably grumpy so he resists the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up.

Sighing, Ian gets back on the bed, crawling overMickey until he’s covering him with his body, and reaches up to brush the hairback off his face. “You always takecare of me when I’m sick. Let me return the favour.”

Mickey seems to deflate at his words, his gazesoftening into something quiet. “Guess it wouldn’t be so bad if you stuckaround for the day.”

Ian gives him a wide smile, shifting forward to kisshis forehead. “You want anything? Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Mickey says finally, looking extremelyunsettled at the idea of being taken care of. And that just breaks Ian’s hearta little. Sure, they look out for each other and take care of each other allthe time in the general sense but it’s rare that Mickey’s the vulnerable one – orallowing himself to be the vulnerableone. It just makes Ian’s resolve firmer that he’s gonna do whatever Mickeyneeds today, no questions asked.

*

It turns out, what Mickey needs today is just someoneto lie with him.

After Ian’s made him breakfast and given him some Advilfor the pain in his head Mickey quietly admits that his joints are aching a bitso Ian manoeuvres them around until he’s sitting up against the wall withMickey lying between his legs, his back against Ian’s chest.

Ian rubs at his shoulders at first, pressing a kissto the side of Mickey’s head when he feels the tension start to leak out ofMickey’s body. Soon enough though, he just ends up smoothing his hands downMickey’s chest and hugging him close.

“You need anything?” he asks, words mumbled into theskin at Mickey’s temple.

Mickey shakes his head absently, one of his handsreaching up to hold Ian’s wrist in place. “Nah, this is good,” he mutterstiredly.

Ian kisses his head again and tightens his hold,drawing patterns on Mickey’s sides over his t-shirt until Mickey’s breathing startsto even out. And even though Ian wishes Mickey wasn’t sick he can’t say this isexactly a bad way to spend his day. He remembers when they were younger, whenhe would’ve given anything for Mickey to let him hold him like this. Even whenthey made that tentative jump from fuck buddies to something slightly more theonly way they’d ever end up spooning had been when they’d gravitated towardseach other during sleep.

By the time they actually got to the point where theywere holding each other for comfort Ian had been so fucking depressed he couldn’teven get out of bed; it was so bad he could hardly even feel Mickey’s armsaround him sometimes. Now, Ian hoards moments like this. Even though he knowshe doesn’t have to, even though he can hold Mickey whenever he wants.

He just- it’s important to him to try and make it upto Mickey for all the shit he had to carry Ian through. It’s important to himthat Mickey knows Ian would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

He’s not sure how long they lie like that but Mickeywakes up eventually, snuffling and sounding a little bit more blocked up thanbefore. He twists then, turning to curl into Ian more, cheek pillowed on Ian’schest as he brings his arms around him.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Ian murmurs, carrying on thesoothing strokes up and down Mickey’s back from before. “Feelin’ any better?”

“Think I just gotta ride it out,” Mickey replies andIan winces at how hoarse his voice sounds.

“Want me to get you a cough drop?” he asks, alreadymaking to get up before Mickey’s hands latch onto him to hold him in place.

“No just- Just don’t get up,” Mickey requests,burying himself deeper against Ian’s chest. “’m okay.”

Ian stills, heart squeezing in his chest as he drawsthe covers up over them both. “Okay,” he whispers. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Mickey nods against him, mumbling out a quiet, “Thanks,”a moment later.

Just as Ian think he’s falling back to sleep againMickey says, “You know you should consider changing careers from an EMT to anurse with this kind of bedside manner.”

Ian barks out a laugh, squeezing lightly at the napeof Mickey’s neck. “That your way of askin’ me to give you a sponge bath?”

“Maybe,” Mickey hedges and Ian grins when he can feelMickey’s mouth curve up against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Whatever you want, tough guy,” Ian smirks. “Soon asyou can get to the bathroom without keeling over.”

Mickey huffs but makes no actual attempt to get up. “What’sthe point of you bein’ my nurse if you’re not gonna carry me?”

“You need to stop getting all your information aboutnursing from porn and spend some actual time in an emergency room.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Mickey snorts before hegoes quiet again. After a beat one of his hands snakes out to catch Ian’s andhe laces their fingers together. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“S’okay,” Ian murmurs. “I mean, you’re the hottestpatient I’ve ever had so…”

Mickey huffs a laugh, lifting his head to give Ian alook. “Dick.”

Ian smiles at him, free hand curving around Mickey’sjaw. “Love you.”

“You too,” Mickey replies, voice hardly above awhisper as drops his head onto Ian’s chest once again.

They stay like that for the majority of the rest ofthe day until Ian gets up to make Mickey some more food. And Mickey does end up getting his bath.

Ian can think of worse things to do with his day.

*

[bird--egg]

LOOMING SUNLIGHT Chapter Two

Link to the AO3 version of this chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30351717/chapters/75510908#workskin

 Cedar crouched low in the long dry grass, pelt prickling with heat. In the three days following her ‘ceremony’ the weather had not improved, and the sky was completely empty of clouds. The long expanse blue expanse above her seemed to mock her efforts as futile, but Cedar ignored the heat in favor of crawling through the Windclan moors. She had been searching for moss or any sort of absorbent plant to soak and bring water back to Sunflowerclaw, but Windclan had little shade or moisture, so she seemed to be perpetually out of luck. Her next hope was to find some type of shrub that would do the job, and she figured her best bet was near the roots of the long grass.

Pausing her search for a moment, Cedar remained crouched in the grass but unmoving. She felt hidden and safe here, even under the uncomfortable weather, away from her clanmates. Cedar sighed, and then paused when she scented something through her open mouth. The young grey pelted apprentice concentrated desperately, trying to figure out the scent of the creature.

She felt it smelled the same way bird carcasses at camp did, so she stepped lightly through the grass, ears pricked. She spotted a dark brown bird with a distinct red chest a tail-length away from her, pecking at seeds in the dirt. Her mouth collected saliva unconsciously, and she determinedly kept her tail off the ground to avoid making noise. Bunching her muscles, Cedar pounced and felt her paws hit the bird for a brief moment. However, she failed to grab the bird quick enough, and it shot from her paws with a shriek of alarm, fluttering into the sky without hesitation.

“Cedarpaw?” a concerned voice rang out, and Cedar stood up above the grass and turned to her mentor. Mothscar had been searching for nesting material a bit away from her and was watching her with concern. Cedar looked down at her paws were a single feather lay, expression neutral. Mothscar tried to hide it, but he always seemed vaguely concerned for her, even when she was fine.

“I was just trying to catch a brown bird.” She explained. Mothscars torn ears twitched in confusion.

“A brown bird?”

“Yes, with a red chest.” Cedar didn’t see what was so important about the bird other than the fact she didn’t catch it, but humored her mentor. Mothscar looked at Cedar with dawning understanding.

“Oh! That’s a robin, they disappear when winter comes.”  Cedar’s tail twitched. She wondered if most apprentices would have already known what a robin was. Not that she was an apprentice…

“Why don’t we practice your hunting crouch? I’m sure you almost caught it, but a little practice will help seal the deal.” Cedar fell into step with Mothscar, following the older tom through the moors with her tail dragging against the ground. While she was technically allowed to assist in hunts, she couldn’t help feel cautious whenever she trained in more typically ‘warrior’ activities. Mothscar seemed content to pretend she was a normal apprentice, even calling her Cedarpaw, but Cedar was entirely aware how strange and precarious her position was.

Mothscar lead her further into the territory, stopping at a flat stretch of moor with a strange lack of grass. Cedar sniffed the paw prints that had been struck against the dry pebbled group, nose twitching as Cloverpaw and Willowpaw’s scent stood out strongly.

“This is the practice ridge, isn’t it?” Cedar asked, eyeing the other side of the flattened land, which cut off abruptly in a small ridge. Mothscar smiled cheerily, stepping into the practice ridge.

“Yep! Thought you might have an easier time learning the hunters crouch if you could actually see me. Your so short the high grass sweeps over your ears.” He purred, whiskers twitching with amusement. Cedar snorted and reluctantly smiled, hesitantly stepping out from the grass and onto the hard packed dirt.

“Last I checked, only apprentice’s train here.” A low voice grumbled lowly, and Cedar immediately withdrew her paw, ears flattened against her head. Stormfang was a fierce warrior, one Cedar had been told stories about when she lived in Shadowclan. As her eyes drifted behind the pale grey she cat, she noticed Willowpaw leaning from behind her and wiggling his ears at her. She supposed that solved the mystery of who Willowpaw’s mentor was.

“Well that’s not true at all.” Mothscar meowed neutrally, eyes friendly but tail unmoving. “I know warriors train here all the time.”

“Well Cedar is neither a warrior nor an apprentice.” Stormfang shot back, sunset-coloured eyes narrowing slightly at the elder. Mothscar didn’t respond, simply flicking his ear once in a way that didn’t seem to confirm anything. Stormfang stared at the older cat before letting out a sharp puff of air and moving further into the training ground. Willowpaw bounded up towards Cedar, seemingly completely unaware of the tension.

“Hi Cedarki-Cedar…paw?” He started awkwardly, glancing at his mentor somewhat warily. When Stormfang made no show of even hearing her apprentice he faced Cedar again, tail twitching with excitement.

“It’s nice to see you! We’re all so busy now that it seems like we never see each other!”

Cedar shrugged. Willowpaw ignored the lack of any engagement.

“It’ll be great to train with someone other than Cloverpaw! All she does is kick my tail around all day.” Pausing, Willowpaw turned to Stormfang again. “Hey stormfang! Can we practice hunting moves with Cedarpaw?”

Stormfang let out a barely audible sigh. “That’s fine, we will train with Cedar, since Cloverpaw is busy on a border patrol.” Willowpaw chirped happily and raced into the training ground, striped tail sticking straight up like a tree branch. Cedar reluctantly followed him over, sitting beside Mothscar who seemed to have been quietly conversing with Stormfang before the apprentices interrupt them. He smiled down at her.

“Alright, stand up straight and listen up.” Stormfang intoned, casting her eyes mostly on Willowpaw as she said this.

“Since rabbits are doing scarcely this Greenleaf, we’ll be practicing bird hunting. Birds are always more common than rabbits in times of strife because they have a wider range of land they can look for food.” Cedar nodded, figuring this made sense. Personally, she thought Riverclan and Shadowclan had the right idea about hunting fish, as fish very rarely seemed to suffer from things that made it hard from other prey to live.

Mothscar stood and stretched before lowering himself down into a crouch.

“The first step to hunting most prey is crouching.” He continued Stormfang’s lesson naturally, demonstrating the technique for the two young cats. Willowpaw and Cedar copied his position listening to his instructions as Stormfang tapped her tail against parts of their form that were incorrect.

“For a rabbit it’s common to have one cat block their burrows and wait at the entrance while another chases them into that cat’s claws. Can either of you tell me what the problem is for birds?”

“We can’t grow wings and fly after them?” asked Willowpaw, loosening his stance as he spoke before Stormfang swatted him lightly and he returned to his crouch. Cedar huffed quietly.

“We can’t race them.” She started, then stopped nervously as the two mentors put their attention on her. Swallowing, she continued softy. “Windclan cats are really good at outrunning prey or chasing them to places. With a bird you have to…surprise them.” She trailed off, shoulders hunching awkwardly. Mothscar nodded happily from his crouch and Stormfang stayed silent, watching with her unknowable golden eyes.

“Exactly!” Mothscar meowed “And because of this it means we have to hunt differently than we normally would. The moors have enough areas with long grass that we can learn to stalk prey and pounce suddenly, like a Thunderclan cat would do.” Or a Shadowclan cat thought Cedar moodily, though she supposed that was a sensitive topic.

Willowpaw couldn’t seem to stand staying in the same position for so long and finally leapt up despite the glare from his mentor.

“Sounds fun! Let’s go test it out on some crows or something!” he batted at some invisible birds before looking expectantly at Stormfang. Stormfang cast her eyes to Mothscar questioningly before snapping them back to her apprentice.

“Of course. Willowpaw, with me. Mothscar, you can take Cedar and cover more ground.” With that short declaration she stomped out of the training ridge, Willowpaw trailing after her like a leaf caught up in the river. Mothscar let out a loud sigh that Stormfang cold likely still hear.

“Alright then, Cedarpaw. Let’s get revenge on some robins.”

--

 Cedar puffed a grey feather from her face, wrinkling her nose. Mothscar chuckled idly beside her, picking up his own bird in his mouth as he started to walk back to camp. Cedar grabbed her prey, moving behind her mentor with tired paws. She’d spent the rest of the day hunting with Mothscar, and the sun was low now. She’d barely managed to finally snag some weird grey bird after multiple failed attempts. Mothscar hadn’t been more successful, and Cedar suspected his old injuries made it hard for him to pounce without pain. By the time the two arrived in camp dusk was setting in, and most cats were milling around and sharing tongues. Cedar ignored the eyes on her as she and her mentor dropped their prey in the prey pile, pelt prickling. Mothscar picked up a shrew and nudged her along until they sat beside the elders den. Dropping the prey, he motioned at her to eat. Cedar was too hungry to protest and began tearing at the shrew.

“Do you know what the bird we caught is called?” Mothscar asked. Cedar shook her head no without pausing her bite. Mothscar’s eyes glimmered mischievously.

“Pigeons.” Cedar choked mid bite, raising her head up to look at the elder before briefly glancing at Pigeonflight, who was ranting to Cloverpaw about something. Cloverpaw looked vaguely frustrated.

“They’re not…quite as ugly as the actual bird.” She muttered, pelt fluffing in surprise when Mothscar immediately burst out in laughter. Cedar huffed and pushed the rest of the shrew to scarred cat, who finished it quickly. She felt bad that she couldn’t retrieve another piece of prey for Mothscar, but Rootstar had made it clear that prey was to be rationed as much as possible. Cedar looked to the side as she heard Willowpaw approach, looking no less energized after such a long day.

“Wow Cedarp-Cedar, did you really hunt that pigeon?” he asked happily, sitting beside her without comment. Cedar eyed the space between them for a moment of silence before responding.

“Yeah.” She watched the apprentice, making sure he hadn’t asked her that to make fun of her. His expression seemed completely sincere.

“That’s great! I didn’t manage to catch anything, even though Stormfang caught a blackbird.” He sighed morosely, slumping his head against the ground. Mothscar chuckled.

“Don’t worry Willowpaw, it takes most apprentice’s a couple hunting sessions to catch their first prey.” He laid his tail across Willowpaw’s paw reassuringly, but Cedar couldn’t help but feel he was boasting about her. She felt like it was rude to be so obvious about celebrating her achievement in front of Willowpaw, but a part of her was pleased. Willowpaw nodded agreeably before breaking out into a yawn.

“Well, I’m gonna head of to sleep before Cloverpaw gets in the apprentice den and hogs all the nests. See you two tomorrow!” and with that, the tabby rose from his spot and bounded to the apprentice den. Cedar wasn’t explicitly banned from sleeping there with him and Cloverpaw, but she worried that if she did it would suggest she was ignoring Rootstars orders. If she wasn’t an apprentice she couldn’t very well sleep in the apprentice den…so far she’d just been sleeping in the Elder den with Mothscar.

Mothscar licked her lightly on the head and turned towards the elder’s den, disappearing in it. Cedar looked longingly at the apprentice den for a moment, before following her mentor.