#and this realization lowered that anxiety guilt and stress so much

[fogemorfem]

I'd also like to point out that it's not uncommon for people to "lose" years of their life this way. I felt horrible for having wasted so much time with an abusive partner as I was healing from it. But after a while I realised that people rarely have a perfect life the way we might think we're supposed to.

People have mental health issues, physical problems, they end up in abusive relationships or addiction, and that's not even talking about that there are children of addicts or abusers, etc., who don't even get a good start. I realised that people keep fucking up until they learn how to do this life thing in a way that works for them. And bad things happening and learning how to deal with it isn't being side-tracked or losing time - it is part of the journey.

Realising that I hadn't failed at life for "wasting" my youth with an abuser made me kinder to myself, and also made me realise I was surrounded by people with their own journeys. There's no rush. We're finding our way as we go.

something important to remember is that there's always time. if you lost many years to abuse or mental illness, you will get a chance to live life on your terms. there is no limit on the age you have to be to achieve goals. you can go back to school at 30, or switch careers at 40. you can start new hobbies at any age. there is no cut off age for being happy and content. if you're trapped right now, you will get the opportunity to become who you want to be.

[guardian-of-da-gay]

Night Guard

Read on Ao3

For Whumptober 2024 Prompt 8: Sleep Deprivation

tw for PTSD, insomnia, childhood trauma, mentioned non-consensual drug use

Logically Tom knew that meeting with Knuckles’ therapist wasn’t supposed to feel like going to the principal's office.  Doctor Sherman had said when he first met them that he wasn’t there to cast judgment over them, he was there to lead Knuckles’ support team, which included them.  Still, there were many times when Tom left the doctor’s office feeling like he was getting a bad grade in parenting.

That’s what it had felt like today.

Maddie and Tom were called in after Knuckles finished his session.  Doctor Sherman never told them the specifics of what he and Knuckles talked about, but he would give them a heads up if Knuckles had ‘homework’ that they might notice or need to help with.  Sometimes he’d give them homework too.  And sometimes he’d reveal that Knuckles wasn’t just ‘weird’, he was legitimately, clinically mentally ill.

Since he first came to live with them, they’d gotten used to Knuckles roaming the halls at strange hours of the night.  Sometimes he’d even leave the house.  Tom had convinced himself not to worry about it.  It wasn’t like with Sonic, where he was running out looking to find trouble.  Knuckles was just patrolling.  The worst he might find would be wild animals and he could more than handle himself against them… In fact they’d had to have several conversations about hunting licenses and limited freezer space to convince him to stop bringing his nocturnal run-ins home with him.

And while Tom and Maddie had more control over Knuckles now than they used to, it was really just because he liked them enough to allow them to set boundaries.  ‘No patrols’ wasn’t a hill they were looking to die on.  They’d definitely never worried that it was anything other than what it was.  It was just a weird Knuckles habit.

Except apparently it was a Symptom.  Specifically ‘hypervigilance’.  Because Knuckles had post-traumatic stress disorder.

Which, duh.  Hindsight was twenty-twenty.  They’d clocked Sonic’s separation anxiety and Tails’ social anxiety because they were so obviously anxious in those situations.  Knuckles’ constant training, tendency to attack any stranger near the house, and multiple late-night perimeter patrols didn’t look like anxiety.  Not like how the other two showed theirs.

Knuckles insisted he was fine, of course.  He wasn’t scared of anything!  Head Healer Sherman asked him to continue logging his patrols (this was how Tom found out that Knuckles had been logging them as part of his therapy homework).  The healer seemed to think that Knuckles would struggle to reduce his patrols to half the amount–Knuckles would prove him wrong!  He would go on no patrols tonight, just to prove how not scared he was!

‘Head Healer’ Sherman said that the most important thing was to push his limits without overextending himself.  But that Knuckles should definitely try to get some rest.  The way he said it bordered on worried.  Which was when Tom realized he didn’t know how much Knuckles slept.

That just added to the feelings of guilt as they left the office.

Still feeling the gnaw of shame, he slept lightly that night.  Lightly enough to hear the telltale thump of the attic steps lowering.

Tom had gotten used to hearing Knuckles’ footsteps in the night.  The thought had him feeling guilty once more.  It seemed so obvious now that that wasn’t normal.  He knew that showing you what was and wasn’t healthy was what doctors were for, but he wished he could’ve seen it on his own.  Maybe he could have done something earlier.

In the course of one day, Knuckles had broken down a school wall, crushed a kid’s arm, got suspended, and exploded their car.  (Their third car demolition in two years.)  But the worst part of the day had been when Knuckles had a panic attack.  And yeah, Tom knew the one who had the worst of that was Knuckles.  But watching his big, tough kid fall to pieces with him powerless to help was its own brand of agony.

Tom would do anything to avoid any of them living that moment over again.  Getting out of bed at 3am was a small price.

He left the lights off so he wouldn’t wake Maddie and crept out of the room.  The hallway was dark but the floor below was illuminated by moonlight across the floor.  He could see Knuckles’ outline standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Tom walked quietly, but Knuckles didn’t seem surprised when he finally turned to look up at him.

“Hey,” Tom said softly as he sat beside his eldest, leaving a little room between them.  “Just… hanging out of the stairs tonight?”

“I said that I would not patrol the perimeter tonight,” Knuckles said.  “So I will stand watch instead.”

Tom nodded and hummed like he was considering this.  Really he was considering how best to convince Knuckles to go back to bed.  He remembered how Doctor Sherman had told Knuckles to get some rest.  Tom knew the doctor couldn’t tell him everything, but Tom almost wished he could see these patrol logs.  Instead he asked:

“When did you last get eight hours of sleep?”

“Eight hours?”  Knuckles turned to him and even in the lowlight Tom could make out his confusion.

“Uh… how about six hours?”

“Consecutively?”

Oof.  “You know… Doctor Sherman did tell you to go get some rest.  Maybe that should be the challenge you tackle tonight.”

Knuckles turned away.  “Someone must keep watch.”

“I could keep watch?”  He didn’t know if he could actually pull an all-nighter anymore, but Tom was willing to stay up a bit if it meant Knuckles would get some sleep.

“I mean no offense Tom, but I am not only physically stronger, but have better vision, hearing, and sense of smell than you.  Also I am beginning to suspect you cannot sense electricity.”

Tom turned to stare at Knuckles’ profile.  “You can sense electricity?”  Was this an echidna thing or… a mental illness thing?

“I can sense that you left the light on in the garage,” Knuckles said by way of response.  His nose scrunched as he spoke, though he didn’t look angry.

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” he rubbed his nose with one big mitt.  “The twitchy one over the door.”

“You mean the flickery one?”

“To me it feels twitchy.”  His nose twitched as though to emphasize.

Tom still wasn���t sure if this was a real thing or not.  But Knuckles had never had delusions.  Maybe his superpowered alien echidna son could sense electricity.  Stranger things had happened.

“Does it bother you?” Tom asked.

“The twitching?”

“The electricity.”

Knuckles merely shrugged.  “It is not as bad as some of the other places I’ve been.  There it felt like the pins and the needles.  Here it is like… the crickets.  They make noise, but it’s not terrible.”

Silence fell between them and Tom noticed that he could hear the crickets.  Crickets and frogs and night birds and all sorts of creatures.  He’d long gotten used to the sounds of the forest.  The ‘twitching’ electricity probably didn’t bother Knuckles that much.  But still…

Tom stood.  “I’m gonna go turn the light off.”  The ‘twitching’ probably wasn’t all that was keeping Knuckles up, but if it would help at all, then Tom would try it.

He flicked on the porch light and let himself out.

Knuckles followed.  “I will go with you,” he said.  “But this does not count as patrolling the perimeter.”

Tom frowned.  This sounded like another loophole.  Was Knuckles going with him just another instance of hypervigilance?

The two of them walked down the front steps to the driveway, then headed around the side of the house to where the garage sat.  Tom kept eyeing Knuckles as they went.  He was used to Knuckles scanning around himself, looking for danger.  But now it wasn’t a ‘quirk’.

Tom had always heard the phrase that ‘crazy people don’t know they’re crazy’ but nobody said anything about the sane people around them also not being able to tell they were crazy.  Everything Knuckles did made perfect sense to him, so Tom hadn’t questioned it.  He cringed to think of how, in Knuckles’ very first appointment, he’d tried to tell the therapist that Knuckles ‘wasn’t a threat to others!  Well, not unless he thinks they’re a threat to him…. Which is almost everyone.  But we’re working on it!’  Like Knuckles was on par with Ozzie, barking at the mailman.

Now he watched the way Knuckles kept looking around, like there were invisible threats around every corner, and felt like he’d let his kid down.

“What do you think will happen if you weren’t on guard?”  Tom asked.  How did Knuckles’ mind work?  

Knuckles’ eyes and quills flared red and Tom stopped, shocked.  The echidna banged his fists together, sending red sparks flying.  “Back off!”  He barked so loud that Tom jumped.

Was he having another panic attack?!

Knuckles bolted toward the garage and then suddenly stopped.  Tom got a second surprise: a huge black shadow peeled away from the garage and loped away into the trees.  Knuckles’ quills stopped glowing.  Tom could still see Knuckles’ silhouette burned into the back of his lids.

His oldest turned to him, looking quite unimpressed.  “If I were not on guard, you would have been eaten by a bear.”

Right.  Fair.  But also:  “I probably wouldn’t get eaten by a black bear,” he said.  “Probably not even a brown bear.  Bears aren’t that big of a concern…”  They usually ran away from people, Tom and Knuckles must have just surprised this one.  “I think you could rest easy inside, knowing the bears are outside.  No need to stay up standing guard, you know?”

That said, Tom’s head was definitely on a swivel now.  Which was ironic because Knuckles was actually laser-focused on the spot where the bear disappeared.

“Anything can happen when you are asleep,” Knuckles said.  “I have avoided it whenever possible for most of my life.  I am not sure I could force myself to sleep even if I wanted to.”

Tom let himself in through the garage’s side door.  Sure enough, the light was on inside.  It flickered once before he hit the switch and the room went dark.  “Maybe Doc–Head Healer Sherman–could give you—” what did Knuckles call meds? “--a remedy?  To help you sleep.”

“I do not want to sleep though,” Knuckles said as he followed Tom back toward the house.

“I know, but you need to.  And if you can’t–”

“I must be able to wake up when I need to,” Knuckles said firmly.  “I have to be in fighting condition in a moment’s notice or else I could wake up captured by an enemy.  Or worse.”

Tom was about to asked what was worse than waking up imprisoned, but Knuckles answered first:

“I was sleep poisoned the first time I killed someone.”

Oh.  Tom sometimes forgot–or liked to forget–that Knuckles had a body count.  But them ignoring this stuff and acting like Knuckles was a weird, but otherwise normal kid, was probably another stone on the path to Knuckles having his breakdown so… he engaged:  “How did sleep meds cause you to kill someone?”

They rounded the house and started up the front steps.

“I was under attack, but my mind was clouded and my body did not act as I commanded.  I defended myself, but used too much strength.”

Tom pretended to scan the side yard for bears but really he was just trying to hide his expression.  He’d seen Knuckles crush stone with ease.  It was easy to forget when he was giving you a joint-cracking handshake, but that was Knuckles being gentle!  What could he do to a person if he didn’t control that strength?  And then Tom wondered: how was Doctor Sherman going to help Knuckles get over his hyper vigilance when Knuckles had to be vigilant every time he touched something more fragile than stone?

He realized he’d been quiet too long.  “I’m sorry,” he said, both for the long pause and for what happened.  “That sounds… traumatic.”

“…It is not my best memory.  But not my worst either.”

Tom let Knuckles enter the house before him, once again hiding his expression.  If that wasn’t Knuckles’ worst memory, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was.  Knuckles didn’t volunteer it and Tom didn’t pry.  He wanted to get Knuckles to share more with him, but he’d already gotten him to share more than Tom bargained for.

Maybe he should ask Doctor Sherman how he should react when Knuckles dropped these little trauma bombs?

Knuckles turned at the bottom of the steps.  He faced the front door and crossed his arms.  It looked almost like a parade rest.  Tom realized his eldest didn’t intend to go back to bed now.

“Maybe you could try to get some sleep,” Tom suggested.

“I think you should get some sleep,” Knuckles said.  “I can withstand far greater sleep deprivation than you.”

Tom shook his head. “How about this?  I’ll go to bed when you do.”

Tom couldn’t see in the dark as well as their resident echidna warrior, but he could sense Knuckles’ frown.  “I will not be going to sleep for a while, yet,” he said.  “I am not tired.”

Tom was, but he sat down on the steps beside Knuckles anyway.

They sat for a long time in silence.  Knuckles didn’t move an inch the whole time.  Tom meanwhile was wondering if sitting had been the best choice.  Seeing the bear had given him a hit of adrenaline, but now his body was hungry for rest.  How could he get Knuckles to feel like going to bed?  He wished he’d asked Doctor Sherman.  That was the kind of question a dad who wasn’t getting an F in parenting would ask.

Maybe Knuckles needed to forget about the bad stuff that Tom had unknowingly dredged up.

“What’s the best sleep you ever had?”  Tom asked.

“What?”  Knuckles finally moved to look at him.

Tom shrugged sleepily and readjusted, resting his arms on his knees and leaning against the railing.  “Just curious.  What’s a time when you slept really well?  For me it was after the first time we battled Robotnik.  Sonic and I went on a pretty long journey together and I wasn’t used to all that danger.  I passed out hard.  Woke up feeling great.”  Even though his house had been destroyed.  It was almost a yearly event at this point.  “How about you?”

Knuckles tipped his head to the side, contemplating.  And contemplating… And contemplating.

Tom actually thought he wasn’t going to answer.  His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and his tired brain was running out of excuses to keep them open.

Then Knuckles started talking.  The words came haltingly at first, but grew more confident the longer he spoke.  “Once… When I was very, very small.  I had been ill.  I was nearly well again, but they made me stay at the healer’s hut one more night.”

He paused a long moment, gathering his words, or trying to remember, Tom didn’t know.  “It was raining… There were pots around the hut to catch water leaking through the roof.”  He spoke as though he’d only just remembered.

Tom smiled to himself.  His eyes had gone and shut themselves without his permission.  “That sounds cozy,” he mumbled.

“The healer was making medicine,” Knuckles continued.  “She had water boiling over the fire and she was crushing herbs together.  The whole room smelled like tea.”

Tom’s chin dipped and he jerked up, then sagged back down.  Oh dear, he was going to lose this fight, wasn’t he?  Was Knuckles sleepy at least?

Knuckles yawned as if in answer.  “Father was with me.  He worried after me…  Not unlike you do now…”  He said this last part so quietly that Tom wasn’t sure it wasn’t a dozy dream.  “I slept in his arms.  It was the first true sleep I had had in days.”

Tom remembered that feeling.  Falling asleep and being carried to bed by his dad.  Having a nightmare and sleeping between his parents.  He wished they could give that to Knuckles too.  Make him feel that safe in their home.

A gentle hand found his shoulder and Tom startled awake.  It was brighter than he expected and he scrunched his eyes closed immediately.

“Hey,” Maddie said softly.  “You okay?”

“M’fine,” Tom said, squinting his eyes open.  Oh.

It was morning.

He looked up at Maddie who couldn’t seem to decide if she was amused or not.  “Were you down here all night?”  She asked.

Tom rubbed his eyes.  “I came to check on Knuckles… Guess I fell asleep instead.”  Darn it.  He looked beside him to see Knuckles sitting on the step.

“Knuckles?”  Maddie asked.  “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Knuckles stared down at his shoes.  He seemed almost ashamed.  “No,” he said.

Tom’s shoulders sagged.  He and Maddie shared a look.  He didn’t want to say that Knuckles’ first night of no patrolling had been a failure, but it definitely hadn’t been a success.

Maybe Doctor Sherman wouldn’t pass judgment on Tom, but Tom would pass it on himself.  Somehow, someway, he had to figure out how to make one of the strongest people on the planet feel safe.

[pjoxreader]

Glad to know you finally have some break days 😁

I was wondering if you could do a reader x Grover, Jason and Leo (separately) where they find out their lover is a monster in disguise that just used much of their power to conceal themselves so that they can live a normal life and just how the boys react to this (can be angsty or fluff)

Monster Reader Gets Discovered

((Wanted to do something fluffy, cute and funny for this one!))

Grover Underwood

-You were just trying to finish getting ready for the night  in your cabin… The magic from Lou Ellen Blackstone was starting to wear off so your true form was starting to show… The Hecate cabin really was amazing to make the illusion last this long… You sigh heavily as your arms begin to grow feathers and your feet turn to talons…

-You were a Harpy, not a normal demigod. Yet you didn’t have the heart to tell anyone, not even your boyfriend Grover. He was nothing but kind and sweet, and he’d likely understand but… You had already dug this grave… What… What if he was mad you kept this from him…?

-The guilt was so crushing that you didn’t even notice the knock on your cabin door. But the second you hear the door open you panic and turn, seeing none other than your boyfriend Grover. 

-You feel your heart lunge to your chest as your wings cover you out of habit. “Don’t look!” you plead him not realizing your voice cracks in panic. Your heart was pounding, would he hate you now…?

-Agonizing seconds pass before a gentle hand rests on your wing. Hesitantly you lower your wings seeing Grover look at you with wonder. “You’re amazing…” he says in a voice just above a whisper as if this was a secret between the two of you.

-You go wide-eyed at that, fully not expecting that response. You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you whimper softly, all your worry and anxiety melting away. “Grover…” He smiles a bit at that gently rubbing a thumb along your cheek with a sad smile. “You can tell me this stuff you know? I’m a Satyr after all! I really wouldn’t judge you for this.” The two of you can’t help but laugh a little because he wasn’t wrong…

Jason Grace

-You sigh in relief as you make it back to your cabin, setting your crutches to the side and setting your beanie down on your desk. Thankfully you didn’t have too large of horns, so you were able to hide them under a beanie but it was still stressful…

-You would have to tell Jason eventually… But the question was when? Would he ever look at you the same knowing that you're a Satyr? Well, you’re technically a demigod too… It was like you were torn between two worlds… -You were so lost in thought and self pity that you didn't notice Jason had knocked and come in. He looks at you in surprise “horns.” he says in slight shock. You turn quickly, covering your horns with your hands in a panic. “J-Jason! It’s not what it looks like!” your mind racks for an answer, some excuse… Would he believe they were a Halloween costume? 

-Jason smiles a bit sadly at that and goes over carefully moving your hands to get a better look. “Why did you hide this from me..? They’re cute…” you feel your cheeks flush when Jason calls them cute.

-”You… Think they’re cute?” you repeat hesitantly. Jason nods at that and sits down on your bed, patting it for you to come sit with him. “I do… But… Why did you never tell me?” you take a breath sitting down beside him feeling a huge weight come off your shoulders.

-”I… Don’t know… I just… Felt like I was torn between two things… I’m… I’m a Satyr but… I’m also a demigod… It… Feels like I have to choose.” Jason listens closely and nods at that holding you close to him. “I know how that feels… but you don’t have to go through this alone… I’ll be right here with you no matter what you decide to do.” you can’t help the soft smile forming on your face as you cuddle into his side. “Thank you…” 

Leo Valdez

-The mist had done wonders for you, and with the help of the Hecate cabin you looked like a perfectly normal human… It was so perfect that you never wanted the illusion to end… But like every night… You watch as your two eyes start to fade and form into one eye.

-You don't hate being a cyclopes… It was part of you, but… You hated how people looked at you because of it. Like they were just waiting for you to attack. So when a child of Hecate offered to help you hide it when you were on the way to camp you took it without a second thought.

-Staying at Camp you saw and heard how people felt about Cyclops, they were nothing but monsters in their eyes… Would… Would they see you any differently? Would… Leo see you as a monster?

-”Hey mi corazón, I was thinking for date night tomorrow that we… We could… Uh…” Leo slowly starts to look up at you as you had gotten taller as the mist faded, wow you were towering over him. You can only stare at him eye wide in panic and worry as you brace for what horrible words were going to be said next.

- “Santa mierda, mami/papi?” You just stare at him in surprise as your brain starts to process what he said. Did… Did he just call you mommy/daddy!? You can’t help but burst out laughing at that mostly in surprise as Leo goes bright red covering his face.

-”I can’t believe I just said that.” Leo says clearly, having surprised himself. You were too busy doubling over in laughter to really respond. Leo groans in embarrassment even covering his face. “mi corazón, please don’t tell a soul.” He begs in a quiet voice.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

[heliosrisingheroesimagines]

can i get lily of the valley for oscar please im so in love with him😭

Oscar Bale: 

Lily Of The Valley - a tear, followed by a sob.

Oscar felt like he couldn’t breathe.

His orders had him at Brad’s side, where any other time Oscar would agree that’s exactly where he belonged, but there was something distinctly wrong about this situation. You were a hero yourself, though lower ranked than Oscar, not quite a rookie but working your way up. You went on patrols as much as anyone else, came home with bumps and bruises but nothing serious, nothing like this—

The attack was on such a large scale, with so many moving parts, none of the heroes could do anything but think about the sector they were meant to protect. Oscar was firmly with Brad, his guilt eating away at him now that he looked back and realized he didn’t even think about where you were at the time. He didn’t have to worry about you like that generally, but then again, nothing of this size had ever happened before.

The day is just a blur to him, his only memory now of the anxiety and stress he felt walking into the hospital room where you now lay. His own injuries were left untended, Brad close behind him as he scolded Oscar for ignoring them; he was told that you were in stable condition but Oscar couldn’t stop himself until he saw with his own two eyes. He had been delivered the news so quickly and harshly that he hardly had the chance to let the message sink in, his body moving long before his brain had caught up.

You were still, but breathing, with eyes that seemed like they were glued shut. You made no movement as Oscar made his way into the room, Brad following quietly after while Nova stood in the doorway with a neutral expression on his face. He had been the one to look over you, quite briefly, to see if there were any negative effects from the powers you’d come in contact with but it seemed your wounds were only physical in nature. He’d still keep you in the hospital after you woke to ask a litany of repetitive but necessary questions, but he had no doubt that you would make a full recovery.

Still, he understood how Oscar felt.

“…I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing for something so silly, something that wasn’t his fault and that you wouldn’t even blame him for in the first place. Perhaps it was just the stress of the entire day finally crushing him underneath its weight, the strain on his body too much.

He gripped the sheets on your bed tightly, unwilling to let go even as tears began to slide down his face. It would be soaked by the time Brad encouraged him to see to his own injuries, assuring Oscar that he would keep a careful eye on you until Oscar himself could do so. He didn’t want that, didn’t want to leave you behind again but Brad’s words soothed him to a degree. He still trusted in him greatly and, as the person who was comforting him now, he knew that he was right. His body was almost as weak as his heart felt in the moment, and if he didn’t care for himself, he wouldn’t be able to come look out for you.

“…I’ll come back,” He mumbled, his words meant only for you. He wondered if he saw your lips twitch into a quick smile but he could also just be seeing things from the pain he was in, having to lean against Brad who escorted him away.

Oscar had to look back at you one last time.

He would be back, and he wouldn’t leave your side again until he knew you were okay.

[bakalterasia]

So, I’ve gotten two cockatiels about three weeks ago.

It was not planned on my part. They were a gift, something that I’ve vocalised thaf I would like in the distant future. Came home to two. Never had bords to be solely my responsibility before and my week was very hard. Uni was killing me, my personal life was killing me, I was sick… but there they were. Two lives, depending on me to step up.

I’m prefacing this. I think myself a shit bird-mom.

Their cage was too small, so I’ve ordered a bigger one. I’ve grumbled when I was doing so. I don’t have a job, all my savings were scraps I managed to put away. I was saving up for a gaming pc, something I’ve wanted since I was twelve. I told myself, “you can get money again, this is their home.”

I grumbled still. I didn’t want these birds but I did but I DIDN’T— I looked around the city, counting pennies and looking at shops to see if I can spare some money. I couldn’t find one big enough without reaching lower in my pocket. I was angry. I grumbled and came home and I’ve ordered that cage online and felt like shit, looking at them every day in that small cage until the bigger one arrived. I’ve put it together myself. I’ve never done anything like that. I was scared I would fuck it up and wouldn’t be able to afford another one. The legs didn’t want to fit and I wanted to cry so I called my fiance and laughed instead. He listened to me put it together. Ramble about shit to alleviate my anxiety. “Do you hear them, love? They are chirping so loud. They want their new home.” The birds did not know what I was doing. Only I knew and I hoped it would be enough.

Then they’ve gotten a new home. It was so empty. Depressing to even look at it. “We need more stuff for you.” I went and spent again, buying them several toys and new feeders, better food, treats, even some yellow foxtail millet to get friendly with them. They don’t like them. At all. Two weeks and they’ve never even looked at them. So little time, you say. Yet so long for me. I’m ancient compared to them, but I’m impatient. “Be my friend” I’ve begged, whispering as I held out the treat and watched them nibble on it yet flinch away when I moved a little. “Please, be my friend. Love me.”

I let them out in the room.

It’s a small room but it’s big for them and I’ve thought let them just stretch their wings. They’ve hurt their little noses. I’ve cursed at myself and cowered all the windows. “It’s dangerous out there” I’ve said as if they would understand. To them, I was the danger. Giant and stressed and locked together with them in this little room. They eventually went back into the cage to eat and sleep. I closed the door and cried. “I’ve just wanted to help you. Why can’t I do this right, I just wanted to give you something good.”

I’ve talked to a friend who has experience. Watched videos with tips, realized how many time I’ve fucked up and cried again. “You deserve so much better”. I whisper at them every night before going to sleep. “You could’ve had so much better than me.”

I was not angry anymore. I didn’t care about the money anymore. I only cared when I thought I could make their life better. It was all meaningless when I realized that I was probably hurting them. Scaring them. The guilt… it so tight in my stomach I can’t even look at them.

And then they’ve gotten sick. They were sitting low on the branches, quiet and sleepy. Digestive problems. I’m a med student but I don’t understand birds. I sat on my bed, looking at them and with my phone in hand ready to call the vet. I was scared again. Selfish again. “I’ll have to tell them how I fucked up. This is my fault. I’ve did everything wrong and now I have to confess it to the doctor and ask for help.” I was so ashamed of doing this all wrong. My hands were shaking when I called them.

The first vet talked to me for about two minutes. They were nice, but off. I’ve told them everything and they reassured me, told me that they must be stressed because of the new environment. Told me tips I’ve already started and told me they cannot take them because they might get too scared and we would do more harm than good. I’ve put down the phone. “I didn’t fuck up so bad, right? The vet said I’ve did good.” It felt liberating. It felt like comfort.

I was fine. My birds were not. I’ve looked at them, their little sick bodies, puffed up low in the cage, blinking slowly in broad daylight. It was not fine. Nothing was fine. I’ve called another vet. This one called me in, gave me medicine and explained to me how to administer it. They were nice to me, but this was not about me and they knew. They gave me meds. My birds got better in three days.

They are before the window now. I’ve dragged their cage to the light and warmth to give them something good. One of them looked at the trees outside and cried. So shrill and so insistent.

They want the outside. Away from the monster in the room. They want to go and be free like the rest of the birds who had been born free, raised free. Free from a prison they must despise.

Only I see the horrors on the other side of the glass. The cold, the weather, the lack of food, the predators.

How much they must hate me! I’m the one who stands between them and what they want. I’m the omnipotent, cold being who says “No. you will stay in my cage and I will protect you. I love you.”

My love is cold to them. Chains to them.

I look at them and I think.

“Whose cage am I sitting in?”

[valgasnewsthings]

Without problems and anxiety.

 Psychologist Rassohin answers on letters.

If a feel for guilt, interferences to live.

After mum dead as a few years passing away, am not ability to avoid for guilt feel.

Am I keeping in my mind what I must say , and not said, am I feeling true flawed, than with other peoples, how to fight with this.

And by your letter, dear Olga you are not fighting with guilt, you are cultivating, wanting, growing his. And nobody will not force doing it, and in person having lots of minds, imaginations,  egregors, an s to which he is regular returning. Systematical exercises you can lead a lot of, to develop athletic figure, learn foreign languages, and develop as flawed a feel for guilt, lowering self-esteem, complex for inferiority, and all depends on from the goal.

And if you are feeling that entered in stalemate, and not seen exit from data situation, visit psychologist, listen his advices, they are allowing to fight anxiety, and return to the normal life on the short time.

If you are believer person, visit church, put a candle and order pray for deceased soul of your mum.

 Control own minds, and every time when you are egregor for guilt begin an own song, as would  to say, would to do. Read a pray, as how many times though, so much a pray.

Everyday doing exercise or run by jogging, as on the physical load organism producing oxytocin is substance helping fighting depression, and stress.

Share emotions with friends or families, they can give true advice or fresh ideas from a worrying situation  exit, listen   this.

Take sheet and pen, and type your feels, and this exercise will help reload the brain and look at the problem from a side.

Do efforts and call for your friends as very good and appreciated peoples, or relatives, they are rising for you a mood, and if you will often meet with terms and often in contact, make sure, that this is change your life in better side.

Listen music , as favourite, as a best calming nerves music  of nature, water, sea, waterfall or ocean, she's having healing force and calming you, and you will not notice, how they  are return force and life pleasure.

Add real, achievable ,short-term goals, and every time as importance praise itself, when a goal is realized ,even that he is not a hard task.

from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/T6GYXJy via https://ift.tt/jM6Utuh

[writingandimagining]

High Up in the Astronomy Tower (Part 16)

Part 1 | Prev | Next | Masterlist

Summary: The Halloween party is eventful...

Word Count: 6.6k

Rating: M (TW: drinking, adult sexual themes), 💗

A/N: This is so, so, so much longer than I thought it would be, but the tension, the feelings, the encounters (yes plural). I may come back and edit this later so sorry if it is a bit rough but I spent 5+ hours writing it (ADHD procrastination moment).

Add yourself to the taglist for updates here

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Hermione moaned.

Friday evening after dinner you had managed to convince the Eighth Years to stay out of the common room and you and Hermione had spent the next two hours placing protective charms over the books and furniture in the room. No reason to get caught if a professor ever came through after the party and saw the destruction you were sure would ensue. After the protective charms, Hermione hung decorations while you set out the various drinks and food you had purchased, and other students had given you.

Now the two of you were in your room getting ready while Ron and Harry got ready in Ron’s room.

“’Mione, stop being so dramatic,” you replied.

Hermione picked up the costume off the bed and thrust it at you.

“Wendy? Really?”

“And I’m Tinkerbell. What’s your point?”

Hermione sighed. She had come to you Wednesday evening stressing about her costume, and you had suggested the two of you wear a sort of couple’s costume. You had wanted to dress as Tinkerbell, but your nerves over the revealing nature of the dress had you almost change your mind, but if you could claim Hermione was part of your costume you felt more confident about it.

“Did you want something shorter?”

Hermione’s eyes widened and you laughed. “Didn’t think so.”

“Wear or don’t wear it, but just know if you don’t I’ll feel deeply betrayed,” you said, grabbing your costume and flouncing to the bathroom.

“A guilt trip? Really (Y/N)?”

You laughed and closed the door behind you.

Hermione’s costume was a simple blue, floor-length, dress with an empire waist. You had already tied her coiled hair up with a large blue ribbon, so she didn’t have much to do to get ready. Meanwhile, you had yet to do your hair or makeup. You didn’t typically wear makeup, but you figured going the whole nine yards with the costume would be fun.

You considered putting your hair into the typical Tinkerbell bun but decided on curling your hair instead. You kept the makeup simple to an eye and lip colors that complimented your skin tone.

You finished and pursed your lips as you inspected yourself in the mirror. You weren’t positive you looked any different than usual beyond the slightly red tint to your lips, but you didn’t have the time to go and change it all now.

You looked down at the costume you had placed on the counter. Your anxiety built as you looked down at it.

The dress was a soft green, the skirt like petals, and the top was strapless with a sweetheart necklace. The back went lower than you had thought, stopping well below your bra bands typically sat. You realized that meant would have to attach the wings directly to your back, not the costume. The wings were a gossamer light green fabric with threads of gold that shimmered in the light. You had cut the straps off and were going to use a sticking charm to adhere it to yourself.

You pulled on the costume and murmured a sticking charm. The sensation was strange, but not so strange as to make you uncomfortable. Finally, you slipped on golden heels. You had considered flats, but the only ones you could find had the ridiculous pom-poms on them and you had no desire to fulfill that part of the look.

You looked yourself up and down in the mirror. There was admittedly more cleavage than you had been planning on, but not so much that you were uncomfortable. The dress stopped just around the middle of your thighs, but when the petals shifted they exposed your thighs almost completely.

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself to go back into your room where Hermione was waiting.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet with your pacing you know,” you joked.

Hermione jumped and turned to face you.

“You look amazing!” Hermione said.

“So do you.” The light blue of the dress complimented her skin color very well. The empire waist and flowing skirt really fit her style even though you hadn't seen her in a dress since the Yule Ball four years ago.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “You have much more confidence than I do to wear that.”

Your anxiety picked up again and Hermione saw it plainly on your face. She rushed to assuage it.

“Not in a bad way! Just that I’ve never been one for dresses. I can barely even stand the skirts we’re forced to wear.”

You didn’t know what to say and fidgeted with the bottom of the dress. Halloween had always been one of your favorite holidays. Picking your costume and dressing up had been your favorite part as a kid. Now that you were older you had the opportunity to dress in the more daring way you had always wanted to.

“I think most everyone beat us down there. You ready?” Hermione said when you didn’t respond.

You nodded and moved to open the door. The second you opened the door you were hit with the oppressive sound of the bass from the music.

“Geez,” you muttered.

“It hasn’t even been thirty minutes,” Hermione said.

You shrugged and made your way down the stairs. Emerging from the stairwell you were surprised by everyone’s commitment to the costume requirement. You had assumed people would choose the simplest costumes, but everyone was dressed differently in elaborate get-ups.

The lights were dimmed, and you thought you saw Neville messing with a gramophone. You had no idea how that was playing muggle music, but you were glad someone had figured out how to put on music more suited for the occasion than the Weird Sisters.

A few students sat at the clusters of couches drinking, but most were congregated around the source of the music dancing. Dancing was a generous term for what they were doing. It was a mix between jumping and grinding. You averted your eyes from some of the more… intimate couples in the group.

Your eyes roved over the room, but you didn’t see Harry, Ron, or Draco amongst the crowd.

“Where’s Ron?” You shouted over the music.

“Kitchen!”

You hummed and grabbed her hand so you wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. You wove your way through the room and emerged near the kitchen.

Harry and Ron were sitting at the counter talking, but no sign of Draco.

You realized that Ron was dressed as Peter Pan, and you snorted.

“Betrayal,” you murmured to Hermione. She shushed you and you laughed.

Your gaze landed on Harry and your breath caught in your throat.

“Are you a pirate?” You asked.

“Hermione made me do it!” Harry said, turning around to defend himself.

“Betrayal number two!” you said, giving Hermione a sharp look. Hermione shook her head indicating that Harry’s costume wasn’t her doing.

“Betrayal? What are you talking a-“ Harry’s eyes landed on you and his jaw dropped.

You were having a similar reaction to him. He was dressed in a loose black shirt with ties at the top that left a good portion of his tanned skin exposed, black pants, and what looked to be black leather boots. A makeshift leather belt was tied around his middle and a faux sword that looked slightly familiar hung off it.

Your gaze lingered on the exposed skin of his chest before Ron cleared his throat causing you to rip your eyes away from him, your cheeks certainly stained with a blush.

“Mate,” Ron said, nudging Harry.

Harry blinked and you caught his eyes glancing at your legs before he dragged them away.

“You’re just conveniently a pirate then?”

“No, well yes. I’m Westley.”

Your mouth dropped into an O, and you nodded in understanding. “Princess Bride. I’m surprised you’ve seen that honestly.”

“I think I’m offended. Do you think I'm uncultured or something?”

You shrugged and stepped into the kitchen, rifling through the drinks before selecting one of your favorites.

“Going okay though?” You asked, gesturing to the mass of people on the makeshift dance floor.

“Surprisingly yeah, but I suspect as they get drunker that will change,” Ron replied.

“Fantastic.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You know what? Shots. Let’s go,” you said.

“What?” Hermione squeaked.

“Celebratory shot. Just one.”

Hermione began to protest, but you ignored her turning to the pantry and rifling through it. You murmured a few spells to reveal your stashed items and pulled a handle of Fireball out. You preferred the muggle version to Firewhiskey. The burn from Firewhiskey was too harsh for you, probably because of the magical enhancements done to the drink.

You turned around and presented the handle with a flourish.

“Fireball.”

“Appetizing name,” Ron said.

“Cinnamon whiskey.”

Harry faked a gag when he read the label. Clearly he had had it before.

“Is it bad?” Ron asked.

You hummed, pouring four generous shots. You handed them out and Hermione moved to inspect hers.

“Don’t smell it. You won’t be able to get it down if you do.”

“Is this poison?” Hermione asked.

“Only for your liver. Cheers!”

You raised your glass and tossed it back. You cringed slightly at the taste and you heard Hermione and Ron gag. Harry looked unperturbed and you gave him a searching look. Harry’s face gave nothing away.

“That was bloody awful,” Ron said, wiping his mouth.

“Absolutely,” you replied, pouring yourself another.

Harry pushed his glass to you, and you wordlessly poured him another.

“Are you two trying to get sloshed?”

You shrugged and drank the next shot. You exhaled harshly and put the glass down.

“Come on, Ron,” Hermione said, pulling Ron off his chair.

“What? Why?” Ron protested.

“Let’s go over here.”

You tilted your head, but before you could question them, they had disappeared into the crowd.

“That was weird right?” You asked Harry.

“Nah. They probably want to go do things you could never unsee.”

“Ah, gross.”

Harry shrugged and picked up his beer to take a drink.

You grabbed your own beer and went around the counter and slid into the seat next to him.

“So, Tinkerbell?” Harry prompted.

“What about it?”

“Just not what I would have expected.”

You snorted. “Should I be offended now?”

“Just never thought I’d see you in something like that.”

“A dress?”

Harry made an odd noise and you peered at him. You couldn’t quite decode what he was thinking, but before you could ask someone called out to him.

“Harry!” Neville called.

Harry shot up out of his seat. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait-“

Harry was gone into the crowd, and you huffed.

You spun your seat around and leaned against the counter watching the crowd. You could feel the whiskey still burning your throat, but you pushed past the feeling to finish your drink.

“(Y/N)?” Someone called.

You turned your eyes falling on Oliver Rivers. A fellow Ravenclaw though you had spoken to him a just few times over the years. You barely knew him, but you had heard that he was a bit of a prick, constantly attempting to flirt with any girl that was breathing and in his proximity.

You glanced over his costume and suppressed the eyeroll when you saw he was wearing Wizengamont robes a reference to a famous wizard you couldn't place, but it was probably just an excuse to dress fashionably.

“Oliver,” you greeted.

“You look… good.” His eyes roved over your body and you caught yourself before your lip could curl at his tone and the feeling of his eyes on your chest.

“Thanks.” Your voice was flat and you hoped that would be enough of a hint that you weren't interested.

An awkward silence fell, and you turned your gaze back to the crowd. You saw Oliver sit down in Harry’s seat and you couldn’t hold back the sigh that escaped. You let the silence linger, taking drinks and blatantly ignoring him in favor of studying the crowd.

“Everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you’re drinking here all alone.”

“You didn’t think that could be intentional?”

Oliver shrugged and you took a long drink.

“Going hard it looks like.”

“Something like that,” you replied, your tone curt. You took another swig, finishing off the drink.

“Now that you’ve finished your drink would you like to dance?”

You turned to Oliver and raised your eyebrows. “What makes you think I want to do that?”

Oliver paused, surprised at your harsh tone and rhetorical question, and you took that as your opportunity to slip off your seat and make your way into the crowd.

“Hey!” Oliver called, catching your forearm.

“What the hell?”

“I was just being nice.”

“Sure you were. And that’s what you’re doing right now." You said, pointedly looking at where his hand gripped your arm. "Let. Me. Go.”

Oliver opened his mouth with an angry look on his face. Suddenly, he paled and stepped away.

“Hello, Rivers,” Draco drawled from behind you. You immediately relaxed and moved further into Draco’s space. You would have set the bottom of his robe on fire with a nonverbal spell, but Draco's Ice Prince tone and attitude looked to be enough to get Oliver away.

“Malfoy.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Draco,” you murmured.

“Nothing,” Oliver said with a curt smile. He turned and left without another word.

“I was fine, but thanks,” you said turning around to face Draco.

“Didn’t seem like it.”

You opened your mouth to tell him about your less than subtle fire-related plan, but your eyes caught on his costume.

He was dressed in a pinstripe suit. For the life of you you didn’t know why, but wow.

It should be illegal to look like this.

“What is your costume?” You asked, dragging your gaze over the black pinstripe suit. It was surprisingly form-fitted with a four-button vest and blue-gray tie that matched his eyes. It was a simple look, but so incredibly eye-catching against his pale skin and hair. The color of his tie made his eyes stand out even more than usual.

“Jay Gatsby,” he replied. You were surprised he had read that book, but you had put that alongside Frankenstein in the common room.

“You know he was kind of a bad dude, right?”

Draco shrugged. “And what about your costume?”

“Tinkerbell.” A blank look had you rolling your eyes. “Fairy from a children’s movie.”

“Children’s movie?” Draco questioned, his eyes dragging over your form. Unlike Oliver's look, this had you almost shuddering. A look of desire and appreciation came over his face as his eyes tracked down from your face.

“Yes?” You dragged the word out, crossing your arms.

“Doesn’t seem like an outfit for a children’s movie, that’s all.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t like it?”

Draco shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Sounded like it. That hurt, professor.”

Draco’s eyes shot to yours and you smirked. “Playing with fire, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, sir.”

Draco growled and you grinned. Before he could say anything else you turned and made your way to the dancing throng of people.

“You coming?” You called over your shoulder.

You reached the edge of the crowd when Draco’s hand curled around your waist. He pulled your body into his and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

“Like I said before: naughty girl.”

You shivered and Draco’s hand tightened on your waist.

“Are we just going to stand here all night?” You said by way of reply, your voice rough, but you didn’t care. Draco was well aware of the effect he had on you by now.

Draco didn’t respond for a moment, and you pushed your hips back into his, trying to garner a reaction.

Draco’s sharp inhale had you smirking again.

“Come on, Draco,” you purred, pulling him into the crowd.

You and Draco fell into the writhing movement of the crowd easily. You lost yourself in the thumping music, alcohol, and Draco’s hands on your waist.

As the night went on you dragged Draco back and forth between the crowd and the makeshift bar plying him with drinks. You didn’t see Harry, Ron, and Hermione the entire time, but, admittedly, you weren’t paying attention to much else other than Draco.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you realized most of the other Eighth Years had disappeared to their rooms or other parts of the castle, but with only a few people left in the common room you slipped over to the gramophone and turned down the music.

You spotted a group of Gryffindors pushing some of the couches and chairs into a large circle.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing Draco’s hand and your bottle of Fireball to lead him over to the group.

“Is this the best idea?” He murmured.

“Depends, how drunk are you?”

“Barely drunk at all.”

Draco’s face was slightly flushed, and his pupils were blown, but he wasn’t stumbling, and he was speaking just as posh as ever.

“Perfect.”

You pulled Draco over to the group. Harry was sitting on a couch alone with the rest of his group spread across the other furniture. Ron and Hermione were curled into one of the loveseats. Hermione gave you a pointed look and dropped her eyes to your hand on Draco’s. You averted your eyes and saw Dean, Seamus, and Neville on another couch opposite of Harry. You blinked in surprise when you noted Ginny and Luna seated on the other loveseat.

“Hullo, ladies and gents,” you said. “Ginny! Luna! I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Luna gave you a serene smile. “Harry invited us.”

“I’m so glad. It's been a while since I've seen you,” you said. You dropped down onto the couch next to Harry and Draco followed suit, but much more cautiously than you.

“You haven’t had enough alcohol, yet?” Harry asked gesturing to the drink in your hand.

“It’s been a few hours and I’m not a lightweight,” you replied.

“Care to share?” Dean asked.

“I’m too lazy to get cups.”

Dean shrugged and you took a swig and passed the handle to him. Dean took a drink and his lips curled at the taste.

“Drinking game?” You prompted.

“What did you have in mind?” Ginny asked.

“I’m too far gone in coordination for beer pong or stack cup or something like that.”

“Truth or dare?” Ron suggested.

Groans and sighs had him raising his hands in apology.

“Spin the bottle?” Seamus said.

“What about Ron and Hermione?” Harry interjected.

“Take a drink to pass,” you supplied.

Ron and Hermione shrugged, and you narrowed your eyes. You had honestly expected them to just leave and not participate, something was going on.

“Youngest goes first,” Seamus declared, sweeping the empty cans and trash covering the low table onto the floor. He saved one bottle and held it out to Ginny.

Ginny sighed but leaned over and spun the bottle. The bottle landed on Hermione, and you all laughed. Ginny rolled her eyes and stood up to lean over and kiss Hermione on the cheek.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Dean cried.

“Dude. That’s my sister,” Ron said.

Dean rolled his eyes. “New rule: on the lips or shot.”

A few protests started, but Luna grabbed the bottle and spun it before it could turn into an argument. You were surprised that she was so eager to play, but her pleasant smile never faded even when it landed on Dean.

Luna's smile morphed into a gentle look and she gave him a brief kiss on the lips. Dean’s stunned look had you laughing.

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, but there was no heat to it.

“Whatever,” you said.

Seamus was next, having to kiss Ron. Their disgusted looks had the whole group laughing.

Neville spun and it landed on you. Neville’s looked between you and the Fireball, and you pursed your lips.

“I think I’m hurt,” you joked. Neville’s panicked look had you laughing.

“Fine, fine,” Neville muttered, his gaze cut to Harry and you wondered why. He stood and placed a brief kiss on your lips.

Dean spun and it landed on Draco. His considering look had the group waiting with bated breath. Draco’s face was indecipherable. Dean finally stood and placed probably the most intimate kiss of the game so far on Draco, though it was probably only a few seconds.

You whistled and Dean rolled his eyes.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t?” Dean said, looking over Draco. You rolled your eyes, hoping the flush from being buzzed hid your blush.

You glanced at Draco, but he seemed unfazed by the kiss and the comment. His gaze meant yours and you could see a slight smirk on his face, clearly thinking back to the alley in Hogsmeade.

You tore your eyes away when Hermione spun the bottle, and it landed on Harry. Harry and she both had disgusted looks, and she quickly picked up the Fireball and took a large drink.

Ron's turn comes and the bottle landed on Neville. He wrinkled his nose but gave him a brief kiss anyways.

Harry spun the bottle, and it landed on Ginny. Your eyes widened as you watched him and Ginny seemingly have a silent conversation. It ended in her shrugging, so he stood and kissed her. It was brief, but obviously a practiced motion and it made you bite your lip, a strange frustrated feeling pooling in your stomach.

Nobody said anything so you took the bottle and gave it a quick spin. It landed on Luna. You gave her an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle and she smiled.

You stood and moved over to her. Luna waited patiently, her hands in her lap.

You leaned down and put one hand on the arm of the couch and the other on the back. She met your gaze, and you leaned down. You knew neither of you had any feelings toward the other, you were fairly certain she had a crush on Ginny though you had never asked, so took that as your opportunity to give her a lingering kiss, hoping it could make Ginny pay attention to Luna. Luna matched your movements with an ease that surprised you. After a few moments, you pulled away and flicked your eyes over to Ginny. Luna’s gaze followed yours and her eyes widened in realization.

Stunned looks had you rolling your eyes. “You guys kiss like third years going on their first date,” you said, nonchalantly settling back down onto the couch.

“Merlin,” Dean muttered.

“(Y/N), actually,” you quipped.

“You must be incredibly drunk,” Ron said.

“Compared to you guys probably.”

A few protests and you gave them pointed looks. You knew from their appearances that the only person that had been drinking like you was Harry. His face was flush and his eyes were slightly glazed.

“So, what? We all need to get on your level?”

“That’s a fantastic plan, Ron.”

You jumped up and went back to your hidden stash, pulling out a bottle of rum.

“Drink and pass,” you said, uncapping it and taking a large drink.

“You’re insane,” Dean said, sounding impressed with you.

You gave him a lopsided smile and passed the bottle to Ginny. She considered it for a minute before following your example. The bottle went around the group a few times before you capped it and shoved it under the table.

“Draco’s turn,” you said.

“Must I?” He sighed.

“Or drink.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he leaned over and spun the bottle. It landed on Neville, and he gave him a questioning look clearly looking for permission. Neville nodded. The kiss was short, but nothing like the shy encounters from before.

Back to Ginny, it landed on Seamus. Kiss.

Luna spun, Harry. Kiss.

Seamus spun, you. Kiss.

Dean spun, Hermione. Drink.

Hermione spun, Ron. Everyone groaned and they kissed. Much more drunk than they had been earlier the kiss was unapologetically long and you interrupted them with a loud faked gag.

Ron spun, Ginny. A laugh from the group and Ron took an extremely long drink.

“You didn’t need to drink for that one,” you said.

“Oh, and you tell me that now?” Ron asked, setting the mostly empty Fireball on the table.

Your mischievous grin had Ron flicking you off. You faked a gasp, starting another remark, but Harry shushed you and spun the bottle.

You watched it land on you and your cheeks heated. You saw Draco’s drunken smile fade and you held back a curse.

Harry had turned on the couch to face you and you mirrored him. He was sitting on his knees, surely a position that was only comfortable because he was drunk, but it made him significantly taller than you. He had a hesitant look on his face, but you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to follow through. A look of determination came over his face and you felt anticipation course through you.

Harry’s hand moved to the back of your head, and he tilted it back. His eyes dropped to your lips, and you bit your lip suggestively hoping to egg him on.

Harry’s eyes darkened and he dipped down to kiss you. His lips were soft, and your eyes fluttered shut. The kiss wasn’t passionate or angry like Draco’s had been, instead, it was gentle and searching. Your hands clenched as you resisted the urge to touch him. You didn’t think that would help the already tenuous situation. It could have been seconds or minutes, but Harry pulled away and you opened your eyes. His gaze searched yours, but you didn’t know what he was looking for.

“Geez (Y/N),” Dean coughed. Harry pulled away quickly and you turned to Dean, avoiding looking at Draco.

“What?” you said.

“I’m almost curious.”

“Almost?”

Dean grinned and you flicked him off. You appreciated that he was lightening the tension that had fallen over the group.

“Your turn,” Draco said. You glanced at him, and the jealousy was apparent on his face. The guilt spread through you like poison, but you reminded yourself that you hadn't talked to Draco about what had happened in Hogsmeade. Who’s to say he hadn’t just kissed you because he was angry?

You said nothing and leaned over to spin the bottle. You watched, holding your breath as it slowed and landed on Draco.

“Stop before you start, Dean,” you said, not looking up.

“I wasn’t going to start anything!”

“Mmmmhmmmm,” you hummed.

You turned to Draco and saw a conflicted look on his face. You pursed your lips and looked to the Fireball. Draco’s gaze followed yours and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

You raised up on your knees like Harry had moments before. Draco didn’t move. You almost frowned, realizing this meant you would have to put your hands on either his chest or the couch due to your extremely reduced coordination.

You opted for the couch, leaning in and pressing your lips to Draco’s. The second your lips touched his he was returning the kiss. His hand landed gently on your back in the flat space in between your wings. His tongue flicked out and you gasped. Nobody but Ron or Hermione had gotten even close to the intensity Draco was creating as his lips moved and his fingers dug ever so slightly into your skin.

You broke the kiss your wide eyes searching Draco’s. You hoped that the angle the two of you were at prevented anyone from seeing Draco’s intense look.

Mine, he mouthed.

Your shocked look had Draco smirking and he gently pushed you away.

“Definitely curious,” Dean said when you settled back into your seat.

You rolled your eyes.

“Draco’s turn,” you said, handing him the bottle. Draco gave you a look that had you blushing and ducking your head.

Draco leaned over and spun the bottle. It landed on Harry.

“Well, that’s enough of this.” Ron laughed.

“Definitely,” Harry agreed.

Ron and Hermione stood giving weak excuses for their departure causing Dean to whistle and holler at them. Luna whispered something in Ginny’s ear and the two left the common room. You grinned. You could guess what was going to happen there.

Neville, Dean, and Seamus all departed claiming the need for sleep.

That left you, Harry, and Draco alone in the common room. The silence stretched and you squirmed.

Not being able to take it you picked up your half-full rum bottle and mostly empty fireball.

You swished the fireball around before deciding to take a long drink. There wasn’t much left, and you offered it to Harry. He grabbed it, taking a long drink before offering it to Draco. Draco shook his head and Harry shrugged. You swiped the bottle from him and finished off the last little bit, it wasn’t much more than a shot from the looks of it.

“Wow,” Harry commented.

“Shove it,” you replied without any heat.

“Can you even walk?”

You frowned at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“A fair one,” Draco chimed in.

You rolled your eyes and stood. You had to concentrate more than you would like to admit but you were sturdy in your walk, rounding the couch opposite of them and bowing sarcastically.

“In heels too,” you said, sticking your tongue out at them.

You turned and went to the kitchen. You murmured the spells to hide the rum back in the pantry. Turning back around you looked over the room. It was in a far better state than you expected it to be, but it still needed to be cleaned.

“What are you doing?” Harry said, having followed you into the kitchen.

“Wondering if I can clean this up easily or not.”

“Not.”

“Watch me.” You made to go back into the main area, but Harry grabbed your hand and stopped you.

“You’re about to get a whole lot more drunk in a few minutes.”

“So are you,” you said.

Harry said nothing, his gaze had dropped to your lips while you were speaking. You saw a hunger in his eyes, and you licked your lips. Harry inhaled sharply and stepped closer.

“What are you two doing?” Draco asked, entering the kitchen.

“Cleaning?” You said, dropping Harry’s hand.

“Is that a question?”

You stuck your tongue out again.

“Why is that your go-to?” Harry asked, pointing to your tongue.

“Why not?”

Harry raised an eyebrow and you decided to ignore him.

“Look let’s just make it not terrible,” you said.

“Ten minutes then you need to go to bed.”

“Fifteen.”

“Five.”

“That’s not how you negotiate.”

“(Y/N),” Draco warned.

“Ten.”

Harry nodded and the three of you worked to gather up the trash and empty bottles. After a few minutes, you could feel your last drinks hitting you and you stumbled when you leaned down to pick up the final bottle.

“Whoa,” you said.

“What?” Draco asked voice laced with concern.

“Is all good,” you replied, tossing the bottle into the bag you were holding.

“Sounds like it,” he quipped. “You’re starting to slur your words.”

You pushed off the chair you had been using to stabilize yourself and swayed. Draco was at your side in a flash and steadied you with his hands on your shoulders. He had taken his suit jacket off to clean and was left in the waistcoat and white button-down rolled to his elbows. The tie was loosened, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

Your gaze continued to rove over his form and Draco cleared his throat. You blushed and looked up at him. Draco smirked at something he saw in your look. Your... appreciation of him had to be written all over your face.

“You’re tossed. Go to bed,” he commanded.

“Yessir,” you replied, attempting to give him a wink.

Draco laughed and you realized that drunk you was not just a flirt, but an awkward one.

“I've got her,” Harry said from behind you.

Draco gave Harry a look that couldn’t decipher before stepping away. He picked up his suit jacket and pulled it on.

“Tomorrow,” Draco said so only you could hear him.

You nodded. You knew he wanted to talk as soon as possible. Though you weren’t sure if you were ready anymore. Harry's kiss had left you so conflicted.

Draco gave you a long look before departing. You watched him leave, your mind wandering back to the possessive look that had been on his face after the kiss.

Mine. You shuddered, heat pooling in your stomach.

“Ready?” Harry asked, bring your thoughts away from the precipice of something dangerous.

“Po-possibly,” you replied, hiccuping.

Harry laughed.

“You’re soooo drunk,” he said, slurring the word so.

“And you’re not?” You countered.

“Fair.”

You made to walk to the stairs, but your ankle twisted, and you stumbled. Harry caught you easily and you giggled.

“Those things are death traps,” Harry said, looking down at your shoes.

“If I sit down to get them off, I’m not getting back up.”

Harry contemplated his next move. Suddenly he had dropped to his knees and grabbed your foot.

“Harry!” You gasped, tugging your foot.

“The other option is being carried, but I don’t trust myself to do that,” he replied.

“Fine,” you grumbled.

The straps were thin, and Harry was clearly just as drunk as you as he attempted to undo the clip that held the shoe on your foot.

“Defeated by a shoe? Voldemort is rolling in his grave,” you joked.

Harry looked up and gave you a stern look. “Do you want help or not?”

You didn’t even hear his question because your mind was occupied by the sight in front of you. Harry Potter was on his knees, looking up at you with blown pupils. The disheveled look in combination with his costume had heat gathering in your stomach.

Harry seemed to pick up on your thoughts and his pupils already blown, now almost entirely blocked out the green of his eyes. His grip on your ankle tightened for a moment. You gasped at the feeling, somehow the feeling heightened your arousal. But the gasp caused him to drop his head and go back to undoing your shoe. He pulled it off and quickly got the other.

Harry stood and handed the shoes to you.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice hoarse.

Harry said nothing and you kept your eyes averted moving to walk toward the stairs once more. You swayed ever so slightly but righted yourself easily. Harry came up and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I’m okay,” you said.

“I’m not,” he replied in a low voice.

You said nothing, letting Harry guide you up the stairs to the room. You reached your door and tried to move away from Harry, but he held you tight.

“Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath and pulled you to face him. His hands settled on your waist and your back was to the door.

“Harry?” you tried again.

“(Y/N), I-“ Harry cut himself off.

“You?”

Harry ducked his head and your hand reached out of its own accord. His messy hair was covering his eyes and you pushed it back, dragging your fingertips across his forehead. He looked up and your hand slid to cup his cheek. The memory of sleeping in his bed came back to you and your heart clenched.

“Fuck it,” Harry muttered.

Harry pushed you into the door and pressed his lips to yours. You responded immediately. The kiss felt like want, desperate but soft.

Your arms looped around his neck, your heels were still dangling from your fingers making soft clacking sounds as they hit each other. Your lips parted and Harry deepened the kiss. The gentle, seeking nature of his kiss had you melting into him. You wanted him to take control.

One of Harry’s hands slid around to your lower back, pressing you into his body while the other moved up and into your hair. He gave it a gentle tug and you moaned, tilting your head back. Harry’s lips broke away and he tugged your hair again exposing your neck. Harry’s lips brushed over your jaw, slow and tender.

Your free hand weaved into his hair and tugged. Harry groaned and moved to your neck giving you a swift nip in retaliation. You gasped and tried to press your body further into his.

“Harry,” you whispered, your breathing labored.

“Yes?” He asked in between soft kisses to your neck.

“I need…” You trailed off when he lingered over your jugular.

“You need?” His lips moved as your skin when he spoke, and you shivered.

“Yes,” you sighed. You felt his smile on your neck and suddenly his teeth were against your skin.

You let out a cry and the hand in your hair shot to your mouth.

“So vocal,” he hummed. “You need to be quiet, okay?”

You nodded, but he didn’t remove his hand from your mouth. His tongue laved over the spot he had bitten as if apologizing and you squirmed, your legs tightening from the growing heat between your legs.

Harry must have noticed the movement because his hand slipped from your lower back to grip the top of your thigh. Your skin burned where he touched, intimately aware of his hand wrapped around the back on your thigh, his fingers too far and too close to where you wanted them to be. You moaned, but it was stifled by his hand still covering your lips.

You knew that he was leaving marks on your neck, and you ached at the thought. He moved down your neck, dragging his lips along your collarbone. Your thighs rubbed together again, and he chuckled against your skin. Indignant, you tugged on his hair once more and his eyes shot to yours.

You flicked your tongue out against his hand and he instinctively pulled away. You wasted no time pulling him up to your lips. His hand left your thigh, roving across your lower body.

A door shut down the stairs and Harry ripped away from you. His chest was heaving, and you licked your lips.

“We’re drunk,” he murmured.

“I know,” you replied.

“We should go to bed.”

You nodded, but neither of you moved. Harry’s eyes trailed across your body and the desire in them had you rolling your hips unconsciously. He groaned and closed his eyes.

“You’re killing me, (Y/N),” he said, voice husky.

“What do you think you’re doing to me,” you replied.

Harry shook his head. Your free hand dropped from his hair and made its way under his shirt. Your fingertips roamed across his back and Harry’s dropped his head. The simple and soft touch had him relaxing again. You bit your lip and curled your fingers, your nails dragging down his spine.

“(Y/N),” he rasped.

“Harry.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“What if I don’t want you to be?”

Harry's response was instantaneous. He surged up, taking your lips into a fevered and desperate kiss. You scraped down his back again and he growled. You grinned and Harry took that opportunity to invade your mouth. He was overwhelming your senses. Groping hands caused desperate noises to escape your lips.

Another door shutting had him pulling away completely with a wild look in his eyes.

“Sleep.”

You pouted and Harry dragged a hand over his face.

“(Y/N), please.”

“Funny, I was about to beg too.”

“Fucking hell.”

Harry picked you up and moved you to the side. His strength did nothing to alleviate the pressure between your legs. He unlocked the door and pulled you inside.

“Sleep,” he repeated.

“Are you a caveman now?” You quipped.

Harry huffed, but his lips twitched. You grinned. Harry matched your grin, but his expression quickly sobered.

“Tomorrow, okay?” Harry said.

You inhaled and nodded.

Tomorrow, Draco’s voice echoes in your head.

Tags: @benbarneswife1 @oh-my-overlord @hotleaf-juice @redcoatgirl @captainamericasinnocence @sugarlustry @eggs-whiskey-snipes @saayanaaa @haleyessence @marshmellowhat1 @bigpoppajes @dracosdarling @itchywitch33 @smilfoy @meaganjm @draw-back-your-bow @fiannee @supervoldejaygent @rorilisa @do44y @meipotter @katesreading @darkenwolfie @i1k @not-quite-joy @bella-vasquez216 @courtneeishuman @kareniliana @mauihs @scarlet-says-hi @chiefdreamercherryblossom @the-jess-life @dreams-in-blxck @letoof @haroldpotterson @little-ms-awkward @wherewitcheslie

[hoe-imaginess]

baby socks | hawks

Hawks x Reader

summary: Hawks isn't ready to be a dad. He doesn't think he'll ever be—but now, he might need to rethink some things.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: short and montage-y. follows the idea that Hawks realistically isn’t looking to be a family man, but might be converted... for reasons 

inspired by an idea from @gabb-yeet​ ty friend <3

⤰⤰⤰

After two long, stressful weeks, your concerns were no longer contestable. Two weeks during which you waited, and hoped, while your mind did manic rebounds between joy and fear.

A third week came and went without your period, and you knew then that there was no denying the truth growing inside of you.

A pregnancy test from the local drug store gave you final confirmation. The other two you took while riding a wave of denial reverberated the inescapable.

You were pregnant. You were pregnant with Hawks’s baby.

And you had no idea what to do.

⤰

His visits were rare, but thoroughly cherished.

You loved to be in his arms, to feel the supple caress of his feathers around you; tickling a warm, blissful exhilaration up your spine. 

He loved your hands on him, and always esteemed their softness as you touched his temple or cupped his cheek, as though your gentle embrace extracted the day’s stress right from his skin.

Hawks could make you laugh as easily as anything. Your smiles came easy and organic—there was nothing more in the world he loved than to see your smile.

But now here you were, eyes hot with imminent tears as you showed him the pregnancy test, as he took a step away from you. He simply looked at you with bewilderment, then averted his gaze, somewhat shamefaced by his own shock.

“Wow,” he muttered, eyes and tone lacking any of the passion for this confession that you might have hoped for. “I… thought you were, ya know…” He gestured stiffly to his mouth, denoting your birth control, you guessed. “And we were careful–”

Hawks stopped then, noticing how swiftly the emotion drained from your face. He took a breath to dispel his confusions, and pushed his goggles up into his hairline so he could rub feeling into the bridge of his nose.

“Okay,” he started, like he was trying to wrangle his thoughts back in line. You saw his gloved hands fidget about, eager for orientation. “Um… Well, I wasn’t really… ready for this.”

“Well, neither was I,” you returned, hoping to convey to him that you were the equal of his wariness in this dilemma; you had no ambition to bestow obligations on him.

The proceeding silence took a substantial toll on your already crumbling poise. His gaze took an idling perusal of the ground, at the space between you two, unwilling to meet your eyes.

Then, as if a saving grace to his discomfort, the pager at his belt sounded off.

Your heart stung at the interruption. He sometimes had to make your time together short on account of duty, but surely he could spare a minute more to discuss this—something of this magnitude. 

“I have to go,” he murmured, after reading the message on his pager. He was still reluctant to meet your eyes, but found a heartbreaking sadness in them when he did. He swallowed hard. “I’m… sorry.”

“Hawks,” you started, searching feverishly for the words that might keep him there with you. “I’m—We need to…”

“I know.” There was a flash of somber determination in his eyes, something that aspired to reassurance, but failed. “I’ll be back.”

His arm moved, almost as if to reach out and touch you. But he seemed to think better of doing so, and instead he moved to your window, and flew from it as he had a hundred times before.

Except this time, you watched him go not with an enthusiasm to see him again, but a despairing anxiety.

⤰

His return was a no less cumbersome affair.

Hawks sat on your couch, looked around the room with thorny cautiousness, as if he were in an unfamiliar environment, as if he no longer found peace in your presence like he once had.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, still partial to keeping his gaze lowered.

You’d sat down next to him on the couch, with a condemning distance between the two of you that made your chest tight with despair. You looked down at your feet, at the soft carpet beneath your toes, and curled them restlessly into the fluff.

“What do you mean?” you answered, even as you feared clarification.

“I mean… have you decided?”

Your head came up to look at him, a mounting trepidation quickening your pulse.

“Decided?” you repeated.

Realizing your apprehension, he perked up, and a flash of apology softened his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His hands hovered to assuage you, and that tender, sweet look in his eyes that you’d so missed made itself known. “Listen, I just mean… you said you weren’t ready for this either, so I just thought you’d be thinking... I don’t know.”

“Do you…” 

You trailed off. Was he really after a verdict? Was he asking not how you two might endure parenthood together, but rather, whether you two needed to at all? 

Your mouth felt dry; you wet your lips anxiously. “I mean, are you asking me if I want to…?”

“It’s your choice,” he amended quickly, but uncertainty still cast its shadow over his face, gambling with his otherwise assuring words. “Whatever you decide I’ll… I’ll do what I need to do.”

There was no enthusiasm behind his promise, only a reluctant acceptance. You’d hoped for so much more.

⤰

Hawks couldn’t join you at your prenatal appointments.

He tried, once, when not a minute after showing up on the same block as the hospital, he was spotted and swarmed by fans. Thinking better of making a move that might lead you to suffer some unwanted media attention, he pulled back.

Later, after you’d trudged through the appointment alone, he called you to apologize.

You told him it was fine, and that you understood his need for discretion during all of this. After all, any whiff of information that the press claimed from this situation might prove detrimental to Hawks’s career. He was young, and a top hero; even if the two of you weren’t married, you knew part of his appeal was his bachelor status. Even if you’d both decided on this together, you were still worlds apart.

And from then on, there was an unspoken agreement that you would have to traverse most of your pregnancy alone.

⤰

When Hawks wasn’t thinking about hero work, he was thinking about you.

He was thinking about you, and his relationship with you—how it had been so ideal and complete. It was an escape from the labors of his day that often times felt more injurious than anything. Seeing you remedied that. Your presence was alleviating; your affections curative.

But now when he thought of the relationship, the happiness was sabotaged by a cloud of uncertainty—uncertainty for the unknown. From the very onset of his hero career, he’d planned to strictly dedicate himself to the betterment of society, no matter his personal sacrifices.

But how faithfully could he keep to that philosophy when it would no longer be his sacrifice alone, but also yours? 

Hawks had thousands of admirers. Among them were beauties that would have undoubtedly been the apple of any other man’s eye: stunners who flashed him pretty smiles behind pretty lashes, flattering him with their worship and exaltation—but they were tributes he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t devote himself to one person when the rest of the country demanded preservation.

But you were the exception.

You two had met under such fleeting circumstances that he could have never guessed the journey on which the short encounter would take him. But then you two kept running into each other, over and over, until he’d found the opportunity to indulge the humor of it. 

Is this just a coincidence? he’d joked with you. Or maybe you’re plotting something? Understandably, I’m a little suspicious.

You’d laughed so sweetly in response: a laugh that made his face warm and his wings twitch.

He had little control over what happened next. The warmth had sprouted. It had all gone so well. Doubts and fears about indulging a relationship with you slowly dwindled to a dormant worry. You were always so understanding and accommodating; you never harped on his business, and never guilted him for prioritizing hero work when it was necessary.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

But now, he had no idea what to think.

His feelings hadn’t changed for you, not at all. But this was an impossible situation, with an impossible answer. He was going to be a father. That was an unavoidable truth now, one he had yet to completely wrap his head around.

He wished it were easy. He wished he could bask in the anticipation of fatherhood, that he could be there to encourage your enthusiasms and grant you his part in this endeavor. You deserved that. You deserved support and happiness throughout this. But he didn’t know if he could deliver. 

On patrol, Hawks saw mothers carrying their young infants in the street—something he’d given little thought or contemplation before. Now his soaring wings would come to a slow as he tried to imagine that it was you down there holding a baby in your arms, his baby; a baby with his hair and eyes—or maybe yours, or maybe a mix of both…

He’d shake his head and turn away from the spectacle, knowing his thoughts would spiral, and that they would serve only to distract him.

⤰

Hawks stopped visiting as often as he had been. It was a palpable evasion, and it cut you worse as the days went by.

He kept up with your texts, mostly. But the longer they went unanswered, the worse your anxieties grew. Whereas before an unanswered message would scarcely disturb you—he had a demanding job, after all—your reservations had all but crashed now. It left you in a state of unending worry; gut-wrenching conclusions toppling over one another until you’d exhausted yourself with grief.

You would spend hours curled up on the couch, waiting for his response, eager to be quelled of your dread. Didn’t he realize the longer he kept away from you, the worse you were for it?… The more guilt you felt for deciding you wanted to keep this baby?

Your hand would curl over your stomach, and you would wonder how something meant to bring so much joy had so far served only to bring you sorrow.

⤰

During a break in his late-night patrol, Hawks called you.

Bleary-eyed, you woke to the phone’s tuneful ringing, and reached for it clumsily on the nightstand.

“Hello?” you croaked once you’d answered the call.

As if he’d been idle, and not expecting you to answer, he cleared his throat. “Uh, hey.”

You waited, brain too fogged by sleep to think of your own mediation to the silence. It was then he realized that he would need to take the lead, lest he make this late-night disturbance in vain.

“Hey,” he started again, with hesitation. “I just… wanted to talk.”

“It’s late, Hawks,” you murmured, blinking away haze as you peered at your alarm clock. It was nearly past three.

“I know. Sorry. Listen, I…” The mere notion of elaborating on the toilsome thoughts in his head made his chest tight. The onslaught of guilt and confusion struck instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the self-condemnation constricting his throat. “I just…” Now his confidence digressed, his sentiments running faster than what words could articulate.

“I just didn’t know what to do,” he admitted finally, certain but woeful in his repentance. “I… guess I still don’t.”

You sat up in bed, let the blood flow evenly through your body to aid your thinking. “I’m confused too, Hawks, but I…” The thought of the turmoil you’d suffered all alone these last few weeks brought pitiful tears to your eyes, and a stutter to your breath. “I need your help.”

Touched by the sorrow in your tone, he raised his head to the night sky and breathed in his grief, then breathed it out.

“I know,” he said. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

For the next half-hour, you stayed on the phone with him, talking through mutual worry and braving the shame of confessing the anguish you felt because of his behavior.

He promised that he would take care of you. Both of you, he said. 

And you went to bed that night with a little smile on your face, hoping the soothing optimism you felt would last.

⤰

Baby socks.

It was baby socks that did it.

With his wings withered down from a particularly exhausting battle, thereby shedding the token of his celebrity, Hawks indulged himself by doing something he rarely did: take a trip to the supermarket. 

Still, it wasn’t something he did often. Even disguised in casual attire, sick mask and a hat complimenting the facade, there still remained a risk that he may be noticed. But the risk seemed worth it that day; the distraction that the mundane offered from his knotty thoughts was what he needed.

Still, wherever he went, so too did his anxieties, following him and reminding him of their need for resolve. In fact, maybe it was an unconscious decision that he ended up right here: staring down the baby supplies aisle, hesitation in his every step, almost as if the ground was hot coal. Unconscious, because part of him knew very well that despite the promises he’d made you, he still needed to come to his own terms with his convictions.

So it was part-obligation, and part-unbidden curiosity that pulled him down the aisle, his golden eyes giving a nervous perusal of the products on display.

He saw the rows of diapers, and tried to imagine using them: cleaning up an infant’s mess, suffering the smell. Hawks winced with a wrinkled nose. 

He’d rather endure one of those interviews, for that one magazine, of who the interviewers always asked about his political preferences, almost like they wanted him to say something controversial. He hated those more than anything, so to say it was preferable to changing diapers wasn’t a very good outlook on his imminent child-rearing.

He was on a path to conjuring up more unpleasant visions of fatherhood, when he came to the clothes section.

It was a parade of bright pastels and fuzzy cotton; animal-print designs and cheesy phrases glaring at him from every shelf. It was banal to the point of nausea.

But then, the baby socks.

He couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw them: ornamented with fluff and lace, so small and delicate that it was almost impossible to believe a human foot belonged in there. But it did; a baby’s petite, soft foot—his baby’s foot, would fit snuggly.

Hawks envisioned it, then envisioned it some more, the array of merchandise fueling his imagination.

Then there were the pacifiers. The beanies. The onesies—

He had a stupid smile on his face as he loaded his cart with whatever caught his eye.

⤰

Your water broke while Hawks was on patrol. 

He’d given you the number to his personal hero pager, with a promise that he’d leave work to his sidekicks if he was able and rush to you immediately. 

Unfortunately, the odds were stacked against him; an aspiring group of villains, all of whom used wide-range quirks that made their capture difficult, took the better half of an hour to subdue. 

By the time Hawks had done his work and left clean-up to the authorities, you were already in labor. And by the time he’d checked his pager for your emergency message—something he’d been doing almost hourly, now that your due date was close—and rushed to the hospital, all your work was done.

When he finally arrived, he was met by his newborn’s red cheeks and sweet cries. 

“A boy,” you breathed out with a tired smile, sagging into the hospital bed. 

Sweat streamed from your temple; dotted your brows and nose. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in the sight of the little human in your arms, he would have moved in to worry over your fatigue. But there he remained transfixed, golden eyes going to pinpricks as he gave the baby a hard inspection; his shock morphed into excitement, and from excitement: joy. 

⤰

There was no paternity leave for heroes like Hawks. Crime in the streets demanded his attention almost as much as his crying baby. 

But it was a rare night that he could be home with you, taking his parenting duties in stride, and finding them far less strenuous than he would have ever imagined. 

In fact, he was starting to enjoy them. But the most treasured time was after all work was done, when you, him, and his son lay on the bed together, his little body between you two. It was restful, and strangely, to Hawks, the most at peace he’d ever been.

Whatever chores he’d done in his time with you fell far from the work you did every day taking care of the baby, and the moment you hit the sheets, an easing fatigue started to take you. Hawks might have indulged rest, if he wasn’t so engrossed in the spectacle his infant son was making. 

Hawks watched him with adoring fascination, his honed eyes taking in every little wiggle, every soft twitch, every gentle stretch.

“Look, look,” Hawks entreated, reaching over to nudge you from a much needed sleep. “He’s kicking his little legs.” 

You groaned quietly, kept your eyes shut. “He’s been kicking my insides for months now,” you responded groggily, but with the smallest of smiles. “Nothing new.”

Removed from all nuances that didn’t involve his son, Hawks was unfazed by your comment, and his enthusiasm continued undeterred. He lay there, the baby between the two of you, and watched his son test his little muscles for the first time.

The smile never left Hawks’s face.

⤰⤰⤰

[knjsnoona]

Restoration

genre: smut || slice of life pairing: jin x reader word Count: 10.1k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!jin, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering summary: Return to your childhood hone with your partner, Jin only to discover how much it’s changed. project: this part of the bcc summer games event~ it’s was for the image prompt which is the one under the name of the fic in the banner lol this was meant to be short, but then i included this whole first half smh credits: a HUGE thank you goes to my amazing beta reader @destructiveasparagus​ ! helped me find where my weaknesses lie and super incredibly helpful in how to learn from my mistakes! thank you so so much! i hope to improve with my future works!

It had been a long time since you’d been to your hometown, so long you barely recognized it as you drove in with your fiancé. Streets you once ran around on as a child—knowing each backstreet like the back of your hand—now seemed like the paths of a maze; roads that stirred distant memories of laughter and joy. 

Eyes catching new shops where your favorite childhood hangouts once stood, a dull ache laced with both nostalgia and discomfort begins to stir within you. It seems the town had decided to be more modern… more suburban you guessed. It kind of made you sad if you were honest with yourself. You were expecting to return to the home you once loved, and to be bathed in the memories of each corner, shop, and alley.

Becoming more frustrated with each new sight you didn’t recognize, you sink into your seat releasing a sigh. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you look down at your knees. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you pondered what your neighborhood would look like. You hoped against hope that at least that small corner of your memories wouldn’t be betrayed. 

“You okay?”

Catching your attention, you look to the side at your fiancé who had turned to look at you as he made a stop at a red light. His handsome features twisted into concern, which brought a small smile to your lips. Softly nodding, you try to assuage his worries.

“I’m fine, Seokjin. Just realizing how long it’s been since I was home is all,” melancholy weaving into your voice, gaze forlornly sweeping out the windows of the vehicle again. 

“Changed that much, huh?” eyes still on you, every so often shuffling to make sure the street light hadn’t changed yet. 

You nod, watching as a couple of teenage girls walk with some name brand iced coffees in their hands, eyes glued to their phones, as they giggled about something mundane. Feeling like a creep for staring, you shake your head and look back at the man by your side. “It’s definitely changed.... too much.”

God, you’d never identified with a boomer harder than you did at this very moment. Words of when I was kid at the tip of your tongue, wanting to rant about all the things you remembered as a kid and how it had been ruined now. You’d never regretted leaving home before, not until this moment. All of your treasured spots, destroyed by gentrification. How depressing. 

But then you look at what you had gained from your departure from home and you realize how silly you’re being. You had found tons of struggle out in the world on your own. Learned what it was like to truly live in a woman’s world; having to work twice as hard for half the pay of a man; earning the way you had to always be cautious and on the lookout for dangers that lurked around every corner when the sun went down; learned how to pick yourself back up and work harder, when you were passed up on a promotion in favor of the manager’s son. 

But you made it through every obstacle. You were a fighter, and never shied away from fighting to get what you wanted. To deal with the dangers of walking around at night, you took self defense classes. You quit the job that underpaid you. And when the manager at that other job finally offered you that promotion, you gave them your two weeks. You decided to take a position at a startup company that saw your worth, valued your opinions and took your ideas into consideration. A company where you were promoted and given more power to help it grow. It had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. Whose technology had been implemented in every hospital in the country. And the genius behind its creation and production sat by your side.

Kim Seokjin had been a godsend. You’d bumped into him one night at a bar after a particularly rough day of work. You had dropped into the seat beside him, not sparing a single glance his way as you ordered a beer. Shoulders slumping, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration pushing your tears back in. Noticing your distress, he reached out to you. He asked after your well being, taking you by surprise. Cautiously you spoke to him that night, only to be pleasantly surprised by his kind nature. While sharing the struggles of your days with each other, he brought up his start up and how he was looking to fill the position. Handing you a card before you both parted ways, he offered you a position without even knowing your qualifications. 

Long story short, you took the position, worked your way up and fell in love with the company's CEO. Of course, there were those that always felt the need to fill the office with unnecessary drama. Hushed whispers in the break rooms, and muttered words across the cubicles of how you had slept your way to the top. But you shrugged them all off, no water off a duck’s back right? Besides, how do you sleep your way to the top of a tiny startup? There was no top or bottom. The tomfoolery of the envious, honestly.

The car jerking into motion brings you back to the present. Blinking the memories of the past decade or so out of the way. Vision returning to your present day home town, suddenly not so bothered by the changes. Your home had grown up and adapted, just as you had. That thought alone brings a smile to your face. A hand slipping over your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you completely beam as you take Jin's hand in your own ringed hand. Placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand, as you hold it tenderly in your lap, his quiet laugh filling the space in the car as you continued on your way.

Some ten minutes later, you pull up the front of your childhood home; warmth filling your chest as you notice how little it’s changed. Aside from a few cosmetic changes it was still the same. And there they were, all the memories rushing in at once. The feelings you had been anticipating finally hit you. Now you felt like you were truly home as you were surrounded by all the wonderful memories of your childhood. 

A gentle hand on your lower back brings you back, you smile up at Jin who stands by your side. A reassuring smile adorns his plush lips, as he rubs small circles on your back in a show of support and affection.

“You ready?”

Taking one large lung full of air, you hold it for a couple beats before deflating and nodding up at him. The steadying warmth of his hand on your lower back fills you with all the confidence you needed as you made your way up the stone patch. 

Worries of how your family would react to you being back niggling the back of your mind. You tried to keep in touch as much as you could but there were times it was almost impossible due to financial stability or work load. Damn, a small bit of guilt began to bloom in your chest. So you stand frozen, finger just a few inches from the doorbell. Maybe you should’ve called before showing up. 

Sensing your internal struggle, Jin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Plush lips press to the crown of your head leaving a quick kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, babe,” he whispers into your hair. 

“How do you know? I mean- I’ve been gone so long… they have to be angry with me. What if they think I don't care?” you fret, teeth gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, hands twisting into the hem of your shirt, wrinkling the smooth fabric in the anxiety. 

Chuckling softly, the arm around you turns you to face the tall male. Eyes roam your face, a warmth in them that always somehow seem to soothe your nerves. And sooth they did as you could feel your worries begin to ebb away. 

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, as he presses his hand lightly to your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip down. “You’re going to chew yourself raw. And we don’t want that. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips as if to soothe away any stinging there.

Your lips can’t help but spread into a smile at how he was being such a mother hen. He was always like this, not just with you but with his employees as well. It’s what made him such a good boss, and an even better partner. Lady luck was feeling extremely generous the day she led you to Jin in that quaint bar.

Returning your smile, he quickly places multiple kisses around your face—on your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead. Arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, as you giggle at the onslaught of kisses he bestowed you with. The sound of his mirth joining yours, pulling back to hold your cheeks gently. Eyes looking into your own as he assures you, “Everything is going to be fine, so stop stressing for once. We’re here to relax okay?”

Sighing, you nod with a smile still perched on your face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. And the most handsome!” all the confidence in the world seeping out of his words, smugness painting over his pretty features. 

You scoff playfully, smacking his arm. “And yet you like claiming you’re humble,” shaking your head you turn back to the door and ring the doorbell without hesitation. 

“Well, I’m not bragging if it’s a fact,” comes his witty retort which has your eyes rolling. This was nothing new with him, the man knew he was good looking. I mean you’d have to be blind to not think so as well. But you know, can’t let his ego inflate too big. 

“I don’t know… I've seen better looking,” you shrug nonchalantly as you press the doorbell again, hoping someone was actually home. Yeah, you definitely should’ve called ahead. 

“What? Where? Who is he!? Wait, are you talking about that kid in marketing? What’s his name?” he instantly barrages you with a succession of questions, jealousy bleeding into his tone. “That pretty boy with the deep voice! You-”

He’s suddenly cut off by the jingling of a handle and the lock being turned, as the door swings open. Your mother stands before you, surprise marring her features. Features that remained the same after all these years, a few wrinkles showing her age joined the painting that was your mother’s face. You’d pictured—imagined—scenarios of seeing her again, of how it would go but the feelings you felt now were far more intense than anything your mind could conjure up. . 

You were sure the shock she wore was mirrored by you, as you stood there taking the other in. Your heart hammered away at your chest, pumping emotions into every vein throughout your body until it began to leak out of your eyes. As the first drop made it’s journey down your cheek, you stepped forward prompting your mother to mirror your actions, crashing into each other's arms. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so much and up until that point had been unaware that you had missed being held in the arms of your mother.

You could feel her tears seep through the shirt on your shoulder, happy greetings and words blubbered in excitement. Laughing you pull back enough to look at her, a watery smile greeting you. 

“I’ve missed you, Momma,” your voice trembling with the emotions overtaking you. 

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea. I’m so happy to see you safe and healthy. I was worried you weren’t eating well this whole time. I know how you can get, you get too involved in what you’re working on and forget to eat,” your mother rambles on, word vomit just pouring out of her. All the words she hasn’t been able to share with you now fill the space between you. As a teenager you would’ve been annoyed, but now as a grown adult you were endeared by her light nagging. 

“She still does that,” Jin's voice catching both of your attention. “Not eat, I mean.”

You turn to him, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, and an incredulous look on yours. Wow, not even two minutes, and he was already selling you out to your mother. You shake your head at him, eyes trying to signal for him to stop. He simply chuckles back.

“Oh is that right?” Your mother gives you a look, before looking back at your handsome partner. “And who might this be?” Eyebrows raise in question to you. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Momma, this is my, um, fiancé, Kim Seokjin. Jin this is my mother,” you awkwardly introduce them. Biting the corner of your lip as you look at your mother out of the corner of your eye. 

She looks at you, surprised at your engaged status, which you hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the brief, rare calls home. You can see the message hidden in her eyes, we’ll talk about this later, before turning to Jin. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My, you’re a handsome one.”

You close your eyes and internally groan before turning to Jin pointing a cocky smile your way. He sure was annoying when he was proven right. Gloating prick.

He gives you a quick eyebrow wiggle before turning to smile at your mother. “You’re too kind, really,” acting embarrassed, as he rubs the back of his neck and bows in gratitude once more.

“Oh! And he’s modest!” your mothers cheers delightedly.

Wow, he pulled the fake modesty card. You shake your head at him as you quietly scoff, lips almost quirked in a smile, as he winks at you. He was something else. But he was your something else. He was worth it. Headaches, terrible jokes and all.

“So… is anyone else home?” you questioned, curious as to whether your father, or if any of your siblings, were around. You weren’t sure if they’d be as welcoming as your mother, but her warmth and acceptance of you returning gave you the confidence to continue forward. 

Your mother nods at you excitedly, wrapping an arm around yours and moving you towards the door. Jin follows behind amused as your mother explains how one of your aunts was visiting with her family, and how a couple of your siblings were in town. She went a mile a minute, spewing out even the latest family gossip—your father’s brother had cheated on his wife, your cousin had come out of the closet after being caught mid act (“What a scandalous event that was!”) and even how your mother’s eldest sister had beat breast cancer. 

You sighed happily as you let your mother lead the way, Jin flanking behind you. Man it felt good to be home.

“We got incredibly lucky,” you said loudly, as you placed a small pile of folded clothes in a drawer. Pacing back over to the suitcase on the bed, pulling out your underwear to place in the same drawer to one side. 

“What?” Jin called from the room over. 

“I said we got lucky!” you replied, voice louder than before.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. We‘re lucky they didn’t charge a cancellation fee at the hotel.” 

Your mother, after making the rounds with the family, had insisted you stay in your old room. You were surprised that it had remained as you had left it. You were sure it would’ve been turned into a home gym by now, or a man cave for your brother that was still home. The fact that it was still intact, filled you with emotion. Your mother must have held out hope you’d come back, so when she insisted you agreed, unable to deny her request.

Of course there was the task of cancelling your hotel reservation, which everyone knows last minute cancellations come with some hefty cancellation fees. You felt bad as you had dialed the number on your cell, but Jin assured you it was fine and was worth it if you were happy. 

As Jin worked on unloading the luggage, you spoke with the concierge who upon looking up the reservation, gifted you with the surprise of not incurring a late fee. You had been surprised and tried to verify the cancellation policy to which the male on the other end confirmed there would be no charge and wished you a pleasant day. You returned the sentiment as you hung up and looked at your partner in mild stupor before relaying the information to which he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, bringing in the rest of your belongings. 

“You're still stuck on that?” he points out, humor ringing in his voice. 

“Well, isn’t it a bit surprising to you?” you huff, cheeks puffing a bit in a pout. 

“I guess…” he trails off momentarily. You could hear the gears turning before he returned with, “Maybe it’s because they saw who I was.”

“What? Why would that matter?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and could already feel your eyes preemptively rolling.

“Because, I’m the youngest, most handsome CEO in the nation.” A wheezing laugh following his words, almost sounding like windshield wipers.

Your eyes roll so hard, you see the back of your skull, and into an alternate universe. Why did you put up with him again? And as the sound of a door opening fills the space, you remember one of the reasons as he walks through the door. Towel wrapped loosely around his hips, muscles flexing as he rubbed his hair dry with another towel, he stood in all his glory. Your eyes chase drops of water running down his wet skin, swallowing hard where they disappear into the material knotted around his narrow hips. 

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush with all the ogling,” he chuckles smugly. “I get it though.”

You snap out of your daze, eyes narrowing at his cocky face in annoyance. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore him—turning back to your bag, grabbing some of your toiletries to place on the dresser. Distracted by your task you don’t notice Jin walk up behind you, until you’re tugged back into his wet torso. 

“You know,” he mutters into your ear, “I haven’t forgotten that little quip from earlier.” One of his large hands slides up your body, finding its home wrapped around your jaw. He tilts your head back into his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you further into his form. “You think that kid in the office is better looking than me.”

You take a few calming breaths, body becoming alert with excitement as Jin invades your space. Every word and touch begins to stir desire within you.

“I never said that. You assumed… you know what they say about when you assume,” you can’t help but gibe, lips tugging up in a smirk.

A growl rumbles through you as the grip on your jaw tightens slightly. “Don't be a smart ass… I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think no one is aware. I’m not an idiot.” 

You chuckle, unable to help yourself. His jealous words turn you on more than they should. 

“I can’t help it if he’s pretty to look at,” you state complacently.

“Pretty?” he chuckles at your audacity, grip tightening slightly around your jaw. Swinging your jaw away from the direction of his face, the feel of his lips brushing the shell of your ear makes you shiver. “You do look at him. Tell me, do you fantasize about him?”

Your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath traveling through your trapped body; an aching starting to pulse between your thighs. Hands moving back to rest on his towel covered thighs to help maintain balance, but more importantly to assist in feeling grounded.

“You do, don't you…?” His nose nuzzles at your ear, lips pressing behind your ear. “Is that why you stare? Because you imagine what it would be like to have him inside you?” the arm wrapped around your waist loosens, hand traveling south to the apex of your thighs. 

You bite your lip, unable to answer his questions. His touch leaves trails of flames wherever they roam, burning any words from you. His words are simmering your blood. 

“Is your silence an admission?” he says with a slight edge to his voice. “You imagine him sliding into you? Taking you? As if you're his?” His grip on your jaw moves to your throat, fingers wrapping deliciously around the smooth muscle and flesh. 

“You’ll never be his,” he hisses. The hand between your thighs grips your core tightly, a whine escaping your lips at the slight pain and pleasure. “This,” grip tightening for emphasis, “is mine! Your cunt belongs to me. My cock will be the only one to ever claim it,” Jin growls into your ear, hips pressing his hard member into your ass. 

Fuck, that was enough to ruin your underwear. His words release the floodgates, slick escaping your lower lips to soak your panties. The growl rumbling against your back, and vibrating in your ear has your mind blanking for a moment, thighs clenching involuntarily around his wrist.

“Turned on by that?” he crows, self gratification filling every word. “Do you like hearing me claim you? The affirmation that no other man will ever ruin this pretty pussy like me?”

Your breath hitches, a strong pulse running through your body like seismic activity relaying that an eruption is imminent. With the way Jin is rutting into your back, hand gently petting your mound, it was only a matter of time before he had you bursting in ecstasy. 

His lips lightly trail up and down the shell of your ear, removing his hand from your throat to grip at your jaw and tilt your face up at him. Faces so close, your noses brush, breaths intermingling. He pulls back his head, looking down at you as the corner of his lip lifts in smirk just as he shoves his other hand under the band of your underwear. Long, warm fingers softly run over your lips, massaging gentle circles into them. 

Licking his luscious lips, he hisses when one his fingers swipes between your lips. “Fuck,” he groans, biting his thick lip. “You’re this wet from a few words... '' A finger swirling around your opening, spreading your juices. The digit slides up to your sensitive nub, giving it the same attention. Pressing down with a bit of pressure, rolling it around making you arch your back, eyes clenching. 

You feel Jin nudge your nose with his own, brushing his lips against yours. Eyes fluttering open, they meet his dark eyes, completely blow black from his arousal. Pink muscle slipping from his lips, sliding across yours teasingly while his hips slowly press against yours to get a bit of relief as your hands grip the towel resting over his flexing thighs. Your lips part, inviting his devilish tongue in, the prelude of you parting your legs for his length. 

Taking the invitation, Jin shoves his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The moist muscle wrestling with yours as you kiss each other desperately. Both of you beyond the point of slow and steady when he shoves two digits into your core, his mouth trapping the groan he rips out of you. With no patience, the digits set a steady pace as his palm presses into your clit. Your hips buck at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Your lips crash against each other like waves, teeth clacking as you try to get closer. 

He pulls back from the kiss provoking a whine from you. His jaw clenches as his fingers fuck into your hole, scissoring your walls, preparing you for him. You press your ass into him, feeling how hard he is, your walls quiver around his fingers. 

“No more,” you moan quietly. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” he lazily grins down at you, grinding the palm of his palm down on your nub.

Your eyebrows pinch at the stimulation, lips parting without a sound escaping before you’re able to gather your senses again. “No… no more foreplay.” Your lusty gaze meets his, your chest heaving as you try to even it out. “I want you inside me now,” reaffirming how it was only him you wanted. 

He pulls you into a hard kiss, pulling his hand out of your pants. Releasing your jaw, he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs. Lifting your legs to kick them off, he rotates your bodies to walk you back into the bed, nearly ripping your shirt off you. You almost fall as your legs hit the bed, ripping his lips from yours. You both gasp for air as you stare at each other for a moment. 

His hand slides into your hair, scratching soothingly at your scalp before gripping it in a firm hold. Turning your face to the side, he leans in, licking a stripe up your neck to your ear. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth teasingly tugging it. Pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, he nuzzles the hair behind it, breath tickling your ear pleasurably.

“Turn around. I want you bent over this bed, with your ass in the air for me. I want to see how your cunt weeps for me.” 

His words strike a hard cord within you, goosebumps appearing all over your flesh. You bite your lip, turning your body away from him and move into position. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he uses the grip on your strands to push you down further into the comforter, back completely arched now. 

Strands slipping between his fingers as he removes his hand, the other palms your ass cheek, pulling it to the side to look at your core. The groan that leaves him makes you clench. 

“Look how pretty… so wet and inviting. Look how your hole clenches, begging for my dick.” His other hand grabs onto the opposite cheek, pulling it away to open you even more to him. Pressing his hips to yours, he slots his length against your soaked lips. Slowly rubbing his member up and down, lubricating himself with your slick.

Every word makes you clench, the desire raging inside you growing desperate for him to fill you. Every throb of the thick shaft almost makes you delirious. 

Eyes previously squeezed shut flutter open, as your hands grip the comforter. A childish print catches your attention, suddenly the realization hits you. You’re back at your childhood home, in a house full of relatives. You weren’t alone in this house, and they weren’t asleep. Now that you had awareness, you could hear them beyond the door chattering. You had let lust get away with you. 

“Jin wait…” you hiss.

He stops all movement, one of hands gently petting your lower back. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” worry slipping into his words.

“No no. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I realized we’re not alone. We can’t do this here. My family is right out there,” you explain in a loud whisper, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

Silence reigns for a moment.

“So?” Jin's single word pierces the quiet.

“What?” you question, baffled by his nonchalance.

“What does that matter?” He shifts before pressing against you, the head of his cock prodding at your bud. He leans over your back, hands resting on your hips. “It doesn’t bother me, and it never has to you either. You never complain when I fuck you in my office, surrounded by all of our coworkers... our employees.” 

You swallow hard.

“In fact, you love initiating it. Teasing me in front of them, riling me up.” His hips thrust, length slipping between your lower lips, cushioned comfortably between them.

“T-that’s different.” you try to argue, but his throbbing manhood against you makes it hard. “Thi-this is my family… who I haven't seen in a long time. I can’t h-have them thinking badly of me.”

He’s quiet but for a minute before wrapping a hand around your mouth. “Then you better keep quiet,” is the quick warning he hisses in your ear as he pushes his length into you.

His hand traps the sound of your yelp. Your walls stretch deliciously but sting at his abrupt intrusion as he buries himself completely. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust, placing gentle kisses over your shoulder. His hand massages circles into your hip. 

Unable to verbally notify him it was okay to move, you opt for using your hips as you push back against him. Getting the hint, his hips pull back slowly before pushing back in at the same agonizingly passive pace. Lips still pressing kisses to your soft skin, hips lazily snapping into you . 

You whine, wanting more. 

“Needy already,” he chuckles and places one last kiss to your flesh before standing to his full height. Both hands now resting on your hips, pulling you back so he can grind himself inside your spongy walls. “Remember, not a sound. Your family is out there.”

What a jackass, you can’t help but think as you glare back at him, that damn cocky smile on his lips. You open your mouth to retort but it quickly snaps shut as he pulls back and snaps back in. The action was so hard, you almost thought he’d speared straight into your stomach. 

He slides out slowly again before plunging roughly back in. Filling you so completely, each hard impale burning pleasurably. Hands sliding to push your cheeks apart, he watches himself disappear between your folds as he sets a steady pace. 

The sound of your sex gushing with each probe of his shaft makes you grow wetter. Slick running down the inside of your thighs, as he pushes it out of you, clit pulsing with each invasion. 

It isn’t long before he angles his hips, in search of that spot he enjoys so much. It’s with one particular push that he finds it, as you lifted onto your toes and arched your back signaling him. A whine trapped behind teeth that bite down hard on your lips as he hits it again is all the confirmation he needs.

He sets about burrowing into you, head meeting that patch of spongy tissue over and over;building an inferno in the pit of your stomach with each visit. Your legs begin to tremble as you part your lips. 

“H-harder, please,” you quietly moan, almost breathless, trying to keep your volume down. 

“Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” His thrusts turn piercing. Hips smacking into yours hard, hands gripping you bruisingly hard. Over the smacks of your hips that filled the room, you can hear him groan softly with each shove. It made you clench around him, causing his hips to stutter briefly before returning to their bruising pace.

“Your pussy is so hot and wet. You're soaking my thighs baby,” he groans out, smacking into you harder. “Squeezing me so tight, begging me to fuck you harder.” 

A smack to your behind pulls a yelp from you. Panicking, you bring a hand to cover your mouth, hoping no one heard that. Worry niggling at you again before it’s promptly fucked right out of you by Jin's hips speeding up their brutal pace. 

“I wish I could hear you baby,” he rasps, sounding just as breathless as you are. “I want to hear you moan for me… begging to cum… I want to hear you scream my name.”

You feel the bed dip beside you, as he places a foot down. Elevating his leg, he creates a new angle to spear your core. Hands finding purchase above your hips, he anchors his hold, hips pulled back. 

“Remember… we don't want to get found out.”

With those words he pushes into you quickly and roughly. Each thrust drags you to and fro on the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against the material. His hips unrelenting in their assault of you. Pistoning deep, making sure to brush your g-spot with each insertion. 

His actions have you crying into the comforter, as it catches and cushions your cries, groans and mantras of his name. Hands clenching the material so tight, your fingers were going numb. You wanted to fuck back into him, but his tight grip on you and his brutal pace allowed no room to. 

“Fuck your so good to me. Your pussy is so perfect. So tight and warm. And it's. Only. Mine.” Accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. Laying his full claim to your core.

Fingers wrapping in your tangled strands, he guides you to stand, back leaning against his chest as the other hand grips your throat, fingers pressing down on your pressure points. The pressure fueling the fire of your impending orgasm, as the new angle only adds fuel to the already roaring wildfire. 

“Who does your cunt belong to?” he growls into your ear.

You hardly breath, nevermind gracing him with an answer. But as he adds pressure to your throat, you gasp out, “You.”

“That���s right,” he moans, self-satisfied, slowing his pace to grind into you slow and deep. “Mine. Only mine to ruin. Only mine to paint with my cum.” 

His words hit you hard, as you clench hard around him, groaning in sync with him as waves pulse through you. You were so close, you knew he could tell as the fingers previously tangled in your hair, now pressed circles into the bundle of nerves buried in your folds. 

You throw your head back, gasps of air leaving your parted lips. Your nails dig into the sweaty flesh of his thighs, hips bucking back into his. You try your hardest to not be too loud, as your face twists into nothing but pure pleasure. 

You were so close, so close you were quietly pleading Jin to cum. His name becomes a prayer on your lips, that fuels his own need. The sound of his name desperately falling from your lips makes him almost feral in the way he fucks you. Plunging into you so hard and fast, that the unmistakable sounds of flesh slapping flesh could be heard through the room, the sound accompanied by the filthy sounds of your dripping arousal. 

A guttural moan leaves your lips, as he pinches your bud, which he promptly cuts off by slotting his mouth over yours. Kissing you greedly, wanting to swallow every wanton sound.

The next moment, a fire spreads through your veins, as your whole body seizes at the arrival of your orgasm. Loud moans of pleasure, swallowed as promised by Jin's mouth as he kisses you sloppily. Your hips buck into his digits as they continue to stimulate your nub. 

Jin’s hips continue to push through your ever tightening walls and begin to stutter in their assault, just before he pushes deep inside as you feel him paint your walls. Now it’s your turn to ingest all the sounds of his orgasm. The hand around your throat tightens, making you light headed with pleasure, as his other hand over stimulates your nub, thighs tightening to stop him. 

Milking himself dry, he soon slows down and comes to a complete stop. Pulling your lips apart, a string of saliva keeps your bruised lips connected. The grip around your hips sustains your standing position, as your legs feel weak post orgasm. 

Jin’s ever softening length, slips out of you making you both shiver. Gentle as he could be, he guides you to take a seat on the bed. 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He looks you over, checking for any bruises from his manhandling.

This is what made him such an amazing lover. How caring he is about his partner after making love to them. It was always so fascinating to see him turn from domineering to self-effacing. Always taking care to ask how you felt after, soothing any places he may have gone too far and holding you gently in his arms. 

It simply warms your heart, as you smile up at his broad shouldered form standing before you. Placing a hand over the one he’d placed on your cheek and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you say, “I’m fine, Jin. I always am when I'm with you,” 

He beams down at you just before he places a kiss lovingly on your forehead. Thumb caressing your cheek, resting his forehead against yours. A warmth radiating from his eyes as he traps you in his gaze. 

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the words said so simply, stomach a buzz with a storm of bees. You would never tire of hearing him say them to you, always feeling like the first time he’d confessed the depth of his feelings. 

“I love you more,” you return, biting your lip giddily. 

A smile reaches his eyes, as he grins widely. His cheeks puff up, giving him the look of an adorable squirrel storing acorns. His lips press to yours, no movement necessary. Just a simple press, feeling more intimate than what you had previously been engaged in. 

He pulls back with a questioning look in his eyes, when he feels you shiver, almost spilling from his lips before you speak.

“Sorry, um just felt it slipping out of me,” you murmur, embarrassed, eyes not meeting his.

He chuckles, wide shoulders shaking in his mirth. Kissing you again he mutters, “You’re so cute sometimes.” 

Slipping an arm around your back and one beneath your knees, he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him in confusion. He ignores your inquisitive eyes, making his way to the door he’d left not long before that led to your en suite bathroom.

“I think we should take a shower.”

“You just had a shower.”

“Yes, but after working up a sweat I need another, and together we can help preserve water.”

You roll your eyes, skeptical of him. “Sure, but no funny business!”

“No promises.”

You disappear into the bathroom with you protesting and Jin laughing.

You had been back home for a couple of days, and it had been enjoyable to say the least. Getting settled in, introducing Jin to more of your family that stopped by when they heard about your return, catching up with the extended family, and even some of your friends who still lived in town. 

Jin seemed happy to be able to relax, your family welcoming him completely. He had admitted to you how much he appreciated being welcomed with open arms. He loved how large your family was, and the affection they shared so easily, compared to his small family of just his parents and himself. 

You knew he also loved that they ate up his terrible jokes like hotcakes. Not to mention how your mother seemed to love cooking him meals, always blushing when he praised the meals and asking for seconds. It was also obvious how much your family stroked his ego when they complimented his looks. You knew this would be bad once the time came for you to go back to your shared home, ego so inflated you weren’t sure you’d be able to fit in the car with him. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t content at how things had turned out. 

You had only gone out once since arriving, taking a stroll through the new town center, hands held in his as he listened attentively to you recount tales of your childhood. Every so often you’d stop and point out a location, describing what once took up residence in the spot of a newly erected business or apartment complex. You had stayed out till the sun had begun to make its descent, ice creams in hand as you walked back to your home.

It was that same evening upon returning home to have dinner with your family—filling your family in on your adventures—that your mother informed you about the state of your favorite place growing up. Feeling your heart drop, as she described it in more detail. When you had made your way to your room afterwards, Jin had stopped you and asked you if you wanted to visit the location. After hearing your mother’s disheartening news you weren’t sure, but Jin simply encouraged you to go see it with your own eyes.

That’s how you now found yourself tripping over a root as you trekked through the small forest not far from your parent’s home. A large hand steadying you before you eat dirt, you murmur a thank you before continuing on your way. It’s not long before you reach a clearing, that only cements your mother’s words as true. Your sad eyes survey the once beautiful lake, now nothing but a public garbage disposal. The water was murky, filled with so much debris and garbage it looked like sludge. The land surrounding the water was no better. The once pristine swimming hole was now a small landfill. 

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you feel Jin give you a comforting squeeze. You rest your hand over his, intertwining your fingers, you sigh defeatedly, turning to bury your face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he kisses the crown of your head and lays his cheek on it. The two of you bathe in the silence, all signs of forest life now muted in the wake of the destruction of their home. You doubted anyone even still lived here, the land so completely uninhabitable. 

“This place used to be so beautiful,” you muse dejectedly, laying your cheek over his heart. “So full of life…”

Jin glides his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

“As a kid, I used to think this was the secret home of a fairy kingdom. Where a kind prince ruled over his subjects with a gentle fist. Adding color, and brilliance to nature here. At least, that’s the story my mother would tell,” you regale him, hands clutching his thin shirt. 

“When she would bring my siblings and I here, and the water shimmered so beautifully, she’d say it was the fairy prince welcoming us to play in his kingdom. And when we’d visit in the evening once the sun had dipped down, balls of blinking lights dancing through the cool air, she’d say they were the fairies dancing in glee at our visit.”

You could feel tears form behind your lash line, tilting your head up as to not let them fall. You feel childish speaking of fairy tales to your fiancé, growing upset to the point you’re about to cry over it. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. This place was such a large part of your childhood, and if you were honest with yourself, it was the place you had been most anxious to visit. To see it destroyed to this degree broke your heart. 

Sensing the dive in your emotions, Jin pulls back, taking your face in his hands, eyes roaming over your face in sympathy. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Maybe we can do something.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he could mean. Blinking up at him, wet lashes sticking together. “What do you mean?” 

Placidly smiling down at you, his thumb wipes away the stray tears beneath your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe we could try to clean up. Try to restore it to its former glory,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the clearing. 

You stupidly blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. Your heart begins to swell with so much affection that it feels as if it could pop out of your chest. The waterworks come back full force, lips trembling with emotion. 

Noticing your silence he glances back to you, eyes widening with panic, hands hovering in front of him in uncertainty. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?” 

Shaking your head, you throw your arms around him. Burrowing your face into his neck, standing on your tiptoes. “I love you so much,” you tearfully declare. 

He returns your hold, lifting you up, an affectionate smile pulling at his plump lips. “What’s all this for, you big softie?” he teasingly murmurs.

“I just… I just feel so lucky to be with you.” You can’t help the emotions pouring out of you, unable to keep them inside when it comes to him. You weren’t sure what you had done in this life to deserve him, but you swore to whatever entity was out there that you would prove yourself worthy of him. For all the days you were gifted with being by his side, you would be the best partner possible. 

“Well you are pretty blessed to look upon this handsome face every day.” 

You smack his arm, body shaking with restrained laughter. “You’re incorrigible!” you exclaim, barely containing the joy glowing on your face. 

Windshield wiper screeches fill the air, as he backs away from you rubbing at the spot you’d hit. His laugh was something uniquely him that always called attention. No matter whether you found it odd, or not, it always made you join him. It was a trait you found completely endearing.

Your laughs begin to quiet, a few residual chuckles escaping you. You look at each other, affection and mirth mirroring one another. 

“Did you really mean it?”

He hums questioningly, raising his brows.

“About trying to clean up here?” 

“Of course, I do,” he nods. “We’ve still got a few more days left here. We can go buy industrial trash bags, maybe some equipment to help us pick up the garbage, and we’ll definitely need some protection,” he continues to list off.

A smile growing on your own lips, you hug his arm, squirming against him excitedly. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

“Yeah?” he questions, amused at your behavior. You nod enthusiastically and chuckle, beginning to walk off. “Well, what are we waiting for? No time like the present right?”

You agree, a pep to your step excitedly discussing the possibility of hopefully saving a part of your childhood.

“It’s so hot!” you whine, stretching your aching back as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. You roll your neck, trying to loosen your tense muscles from being hunched over with the trash pick-up stick. 

Since your first visit to the Fae Kingdom, which you had taken to calling it affectionately, you had spent the last few days clearing the area around the body of sludge. It was hard labor and the two of you always arrived home sorely exhausted, passing out as soon as your bodies hit the bed. On a couple of occasions, your siblings joined you carrying some of the workload. 

Thanks to their help and the determination to see things through, you were actually able to now see the floor of the hidden glade. There wasn’t much trash left, so you were currently taking care of what was left while Jin was using a pool skimmer to collect the junk in the lake. 

It was a particularly sunny, and humid day. The air felt incredibly thick with moisture, making it a bit harder to breathe. Not to mention how you were sweating buckets. You had both shed some layers, hating how uncomfortable it felt to have the fabric sticking to your skin. 

After complaining about the heat, you toss your stick on the ground, making your way over to a small blanket you laid out to take breaks. Lowering onto your knees, you grab a bottle of water and take a generous gulp. The cool liquid soothes your rising body temperature. Capping the bottle, you roll it on your forehead, trying to cool yourself down. 

Rolling back on your knees, you land with a soft thud on your behind, enjoying the shade the tall trees provided. Taking a deep breath, you release it slowly before choking on it. Coughing violently, as your eyes almost bug out of your head. 

Standing about ten feet in front of you, by the edge of the water was a broad shouldered god. Muscles flexing beneath lightly sun kissed skin, beads of sweat rolling down his back, burly arms bulging with each bend as he lifts the skimmer out of the water. 

How in the hell was this herculean man real? 

You sigh in awe, before looking up, hands clasped together as you whisper a thank you up above. 

“What are you doing?”

You jump as his voice breaks the quiet atmosphere. Your eyes hastily fall on him as you reply in a high pitch, “Nothing!” Your cheeks begin to warm, staining with embarrassment.

His brows pinch, not fully believing you. Shaking his head, he turns to shake the skimmer into a large black bag. Setting it to the side, he swipes sweat off his brow. He turns and makes his way to you, pulling the work gloves off his large hands, stuffing them in the back pocket of his dark jeans. Coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, he crouches down reaching his hand out for a drink. 

Leaning back, you pull a cool bottle out of the cooler and hand it to him. You watch as he takes a large swig, before swiftly emptying the rest over his head. Brushing his hair back, his dark eyes rest on you. One corner of his plush lips pulls up at the unhidden admiration on your face. 

“Come here.” He crooks a finger, signalling you closer. 

You blink, lifting up and shuffling on your knees over to him. His hand locks behind your neck pulling you in to steal a kiss, lips brushing yours affectionately. One of your hands finds purchase on a burly shoulder to steady yourself. He pulls back, placing a succession of quick pecks over your pouting lips, pulling giggles out of you.

“I’m sorry. I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed the most beautiful woman today. It had to be quickly amended.”

A large grin breaks over your face at his cheesy words. 

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Kim.”

His eyes flash, tongue swiping over his thick lower lip. “Am I? Does that mean I can charm you out of these?” he teases, fingers tugging at your shorts. 

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the  warm thrum between your thighs. Biting your lip, a protest on the tip of your tongue threatens to expose the unabashed yearning of your heat.

Before you can utter a word, his lips are yours again. The hand behind your neck pulls you closer as he leans over you. A hand on your waist guides you to lie on the blanketed ground, his knee nudging your legs apart to settle between them comfortably. He kisses you languishly, hand releasing your soft strands and sliding to your cheek as he rests his weight on the arm placed by your head. Hips grinding in lazy circles against your mound, drawing a quiet moan. 

Suffice to say all thoughts of the heat are replaced by a different kind of heat as your hands slide up the plane of muscles you had been admiring not long ago. You feel every flex of his back as his hips continue their languorous movements. You bend your knees, widening the space for him invitingly. 

It’s as his hand descends to take hold of your left breast that you hear something in the distance. You ignore it thinking maybe it was a rustling branch or bush. Giving your breast a squeeze, Jin spreads even more heat to your core, and just as you’re about to groan your breath hitches as the sounds are closer this time. 

“Jin! Sis! Are you guys here?”

Your eyes bug open, staring into Jin's equally stunned gaze before you both spring apart. A tangle of limbs, wrestling to separate from each other. It’s when you’re finally sitting in your own personal spaces that you notice a hitch in your situation. Jin’s erection was pitching a lovely tent in his semi loose jeans. His hands covered it, a pained look on his face as he cursed. Hearing the crunch of leaves close by springs you into action just as your siblings walk out of the tree line. 

“Oh there you guys are,” the oldest declares, pointing you out to the others.

You smile over at them innocently from your position between Jin's legs, back resting against his naked chest, his arms resting around your waist. You both wave at them, thanking powers at be for the humidity today helping to disguise your flushed skin. 

“Oh, hey! We didn’t know you guys were coming by today.” Jin greets nonchalantly, raising an arm to wave at them.

“Well,” the youngest speaks up this time, hand rubbing the back of their neck, ”we weren’t going to but when we realized what the weather was like out, we couldn’t let you guys deal with it all alone.”

You can’t help but smile at them in appreciation. “Thank you guys, you really didn’t have to.”

“This is our waterhole, we have to help too,” your middle sibling declares, pounding a fist into their chest dramatically. 

You roll your eyes as they grin at you.

“Well let’s get to it, fam!” cheers the youngest.

“We’ll join you in a moment, just taking a short break,” you inform them.

“No worries, take your time. This heat is no joke.” They wave you off as they set up their equipment and bags.

You realise a sigh, reiterating your thanks as they go about cleaning. You watch them a moment before twisting your head to the side. “You wanna get a hold on yourself now?” you hiss over your shoulder. Jin’s prominent erection poking at your back, showing no signs of deflating any time soon. 

He wraps his arms around you pulling closer. “I can’t help it, not when that perfect ass keeps pushing back on me.” he whispers into your ear. “And did you know your shoulders turn me on too? They’re so perfect for grabbing onto when I fuck into you from be-”

A yelp of pain gets your sibling’s attention, heads swiveling to look over you guys. Jin folded over, hand clutching at his right side where you’d elbowed him. 

“He’s got a stitch in his side from cleaning out the lake. Sorry to scare you guys,” you give as an explanation, waving off their concerned gazes. Feeling bad, your oldest sibling decides to take over lake duty, telling you guys to take your time resting. 

You nod gratefully, before turning your attention back to the frustratingly handsome man behind you. “Get a hold of yourself! Or you won’t be touching me for the next week!”

He looks at you in indignation, sputtering to find a response. “You can’t do that! We leave in a few days! We can finally go back to loud unfiltered sex!” 

You twist around and smack a hand over his mouth. “I’m not kidding! Get it together, my siblings are here,” your eyes blazing with intent. 

He removes your hand as he clears his throat. A playful glint in his eyes before he opens his obnoxious mouth. “You know you’re hot when you’re angry?” he manages before breaking out into his signature high pitched laugh. 

Face flushing in annoyance, you smack his bare arm. “Fine! Good luck hiding it on your own!” you fume, leaning forward to push yourself up. 

You don’t get far, as he cages you quickly with his arms, pulling you back against him, a panicked no permeating the humid air. You huff, as you feel the wind almost knock out of you at the force he uses to pull you back into place. 

“Well are you gonna behave?” an unsaid ultimatum weaved into the question.

“Ah! It’s not my fault you’re so attractive! How can you blame me like this!” he continues to whine, like a petulant child not allowed to play with their favorite toy. 

The pair of you continue to bicker, as your siblings slave away in restoring the clearing. It’s not long before they grow hot, exhausted by the muggy air engulfing them. Their patience and kindness waning, complaints for you both to hurry and join them—which you promptly do, with bottles of water in hand to help them cool down. Your small group makes quick work of the left over trash, as Jin takes care of what’s left in the lake. 

The sun was just beginning it’s descent, stars just barely dotting across the darkening sky, when your small rag tag group finally finished; spent bodies leaning on each other, as weary eyes surveyed your hard work. It wasn’t what it once was, but it looked damn well on its way there and you couldn’t help the happy tears that brimmed your waterline. The arm around your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze, Jin's voice filling the air thanking everyone for their hard work.

The evening chill that cools your sweat soaked layers has the small group shivering. Giving the place one last sweep, you all agree to high tail it back for much needed showers and rest. 

Tomorrow would be your last full day there and you wanted to make sure of one last thing. You would be trying to find a way to purify the lake water. You had been doing research and had read about techniques aiming to bring a lake back to or closer to man-made undisturbed conditions. You had found a lake restoration company not far outside of the town. Jin had already agreed to accompany you, willing to help in any way possible as you brought it up before going to bed that night. You had happily accepted, beholden by the revival of the Fae Kingdom.

The night was comfortably warm, filled with happy chatter in the beautiful glade. Fairy lights lit the area in a soft glow as many visitors sat around the lake, eating meals they had just pulled off grills or brought with them from home. Small clusters of families or couples relaxed after a day of fun and thrills. 

Somewhere someone had brought a speaker, a soft pop melody permeating the air, as you quietly sing along to it, swaying in your fiance’s arms, his own angelic voice serenading you. Your family surrounded you, their loud boisterous laughs bringing you joy and comfort. 

It had been a year since your visit, a year of the lake restoration working its magic. A year of love and care for the watering hole, which was almost a mirror of its former glory. Beautiful shades of green once more filling in patches of the ground, all the colors of the rainbow blooming, giving the space vibrance and life. There were signs of life all around you as creatures began to inhabit the area once more. 

But the most amazing part is being able to witness the breathtaking globes of light that dance before your eyes. Soft, blinking lights that waltz around, unbothered by the visitors. The fairies had returned, they had come back home to their kingdom. 

“They’re happy.”

“Huh,” you ask dumbly, breaking out of your reverie.

“The fairies, they’re happy to see you,” he voices.

A tender smile rests on his lips when you turn to him. He remembered. The childish story you had told him. And it’s in that moment, with blinking lights reflecting around him that you come to a realization. 

“You’re the fairy prince. Well, you’re my real fairy prince,” you admit quietly.

He looks down at you, eyes searching yours before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling your back flush against him.

“I guess that makes you the future princess of the Fae Kingdom.”

You cling to his arms happily, taking in the gorgeous scenery before you. 

“Besides, it only makes sense that someone as good looking as me is royalty.”

“And there goes the moment,” you grumble as you leave the safe space of his arms to join your family in their merriment. 

“Hey! You know it’s true!” he exclaims, chasing after you, accompanied by a squeaking laugh.

[theamberwriter]

Always Be My Hero [Pro! Eijiro Kirishima]

A/N: I read THIS by @dreamy-writings and was inspired to write this, lol

Warning: Angst, cursing

Pair: Pro Hero! Eijiro Kirishima x gn! Reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

*~*~*~

"Oi, you need to talk to shitty hair," Katsuki snapped, throwing a bunch of flowers on your bed.

Mina sat on the edge of the mattress, took your shoulders in her hands, and gently shook you. "Please, [Name], Eijiro has gone off the deep end."

"I'm sure just Ei is just a little stressed," you tried to sound soothing. "He's been working a lot -"

"We wouldn't be here if we didn't think it was serious," Denki urged.

"He's going to hurt himself," Katsuki growled. "Don't need both you idiots out of commission."

"We know, after everything, we shouldn't be bothering your healing time. But…. Eijiro needs you." Mina hung her head in defeat. 

Just what was going on? When your fiance was home, he was as cheery and bright as you'd always known him. Was he different at work? With his friends?

"Shitty Hair thinks this -" Katsuki gestured to your broken arm and leg, the bandages around your head, your sprained ankle and broken ribs, the numerous bumps and bruises, the multiple hairline fractures and surgery incisions, and the antibiotic drip the hospital sent you home with. "Is some how all his fucking fault. That damn idiot won't listen to us! He's been working the hell out of himself. Spends hours beating himself up."

You felt like you cracked in half. Like a bit of you shattered. Not the ones from being thrown into buildings and trampled on by a giant villain. But deep down in an untouchable place. You felt like you broke apart. 

Knowing you caused your beloved so much anxiety and stress had boiled up in him. Maybe you should've seen it. But he was just so happy. Glued to your side, helping you bathe, helping you get to the bathroom, changing the bandages on your head - assuring that he still thought you extremely attractive, even though you were going to have a hell of a scar going from the middle of your hairline down under your left ear. He was always smiling and joking when he was with you.

"The wheelchair they gave me is in the closet," you muttered, eyes on where your hands were balled around the blankets. You had to be strong. Normally, Eijiro was your rock. Now the tables had turned.

Mina pulled out the wheelchair while Denki and Katsuki helped get you out of bed. Luckily you'd asked Eijiro to help you into sweatpants and a decent t-shirt before he left for work. You asked for one of your shoes to put on your uncasted foot (which was wrapped in an ace bandage instead). Then unhooked the IV and pinched the line. The bag was nearly done anyway.

"I'm ready when you all are," you muttered. A silent tremor passed through the room. Then you all were out the door.

In his agency training facility, Eijiro was giving all he had to a punching bag. Sweat poured from the hardened ridges in his skin. He felt the solid bag meet his fists, but none of it was satisfying. None of the hits eased the guilt.

No amount of punching had shaken away the image plaguing his mind. You lying in bed, barely seeming to hold on. The doctors said you had internal bleeding, a concussion, then listed off all the broken parts. A bit of himself broke with each word.

Eijiro had bawled hysterically when the doctors left and he was alone with your unconscious body. He gripped your hand, begging to anyone who would hear him. Asking them to let you pull through. That, in exchange, he'd get stronger. No matter the cost.

Eijiro was determined to keep your spirits up. To not let you know how much he'd been suffering. You couldn't imagine the wells that wanted to overflow the first time your eyes opened. The first kiss you gave him after waking up. He felt like bursting, you'd been returned to him.

In exchange, he'd train himself raw. He'd push himself past his limit. It didn't matter what Katsuki, or Tamaki, or even Fat Gum had to say. Eijiro was going to protect you next time. For now he'd train. Then go back to you at the end of the day with a smile, no matter how much he hurt or how tired he was. Coming home to you, hooked to an IV and barely able to move around the house - that image drove him.

Eijiro had been so excited to have you home. But every time he looked too long at your casted arm, or uncovered the puckered gouge on your head. Everything reminded him he hadn't been there to help. To save you. Deku had been, he lifted that gargantuan off you like a pillow. Eijiro didn't think he'd ever have been able to do that. So he was going to train until he could.

You hadn't complained once since you'd been home. Only grateful when you'd gone out a few days after to greet your fans. There were so many who thanked you for saving them. Each felt like a bit of a hit to him. You'd saved all those people and he didn't even manage to save you. Was he truly a hero if he couldn't protect those he cared about?

It didn't matter to him that he was a five hour plane ride away when it all happened. Eijiro had gone to do some publicity stuff with other heroes. He had to hear it from an insensitive reporter who asked how he felt knowing his fiance was in the hospital. But he hadn't. He didn't know. His fellow heroes outraged at the question and Eijiro was on a plane back to you within the hour.

He swore he'd be there next time. That he'd never let anything like this happen again. Eijiro had gone in the plane bathroom and had a good deep cry a few times. When he saw the videos, read the articles, saw all the people asking Where was Red Riot? He hadn't been there. He'd let down the one person he never wanted to. It broke his heart into a million bits. He didn't think he'd ever be able to repair himself.

Eijiro cried as he punched. No one would be able to tell through the sweat. But each and every punch got harder, and so too did his tears.

Pitying looks were passed your way as Katsuki pushed you through Eijiro's agency. You stopped in briefly to talk to Fat Gum. He looked so put out and desperate. He said he'd tried everything. But everyday, Eijiro had been in the facility's gym. Working himself until he bled or passed out. 

Katsuki pushed you, Mina and Denki in tow, down the halls to the gym. You heard the blunt hits long before you saw the doors. Each one grating into your mind. You were never going to forget the hot guilt that bit at you with each thud.

Katsuki pushed you to the gym door way. It was empty, except where your beloved stood hardened to the max, shirtless. You saw a bit of blood dripping from his back. The punching bag was losing sand and stuffing. A defeated one laid in a lump on the floor already. You watched a long minute. Then you realized each grunt turned more into a cry or a wail.

You turned to Denki, and held out your hand. He gave you the crunch he'd been carrying. Luckily the arm and the leg you'd broken were on the opposite sides of your body. You hauled yourself up, your friends helped steady you. Then you limped your way across the gym. Finally, you came into view in the mirror in front of him.

A few spots on Eijiro's face were bleeding. His eyes were blown out. His features scrunched up in….there wasn't a word strong enough to explain the pain. The anguish. The despair. His eyes met yours and, all at once, he broke down. 

Eijiro collapsed to his knees. His quirk finally releasing him. Sobs still wracked his shoulders, they shook violently. But his sobs were silent now. Though you didn't miss the tears that dripped onto the floor.

"Eiji," you cooed and lowered yourself to the floor.

He shook his head. "You….sh-should be-e….hom-m-me. He-healing."

"You need me more." You put a hand on his shoulder. Eijiro latched on to you. You didn't care about the blood, sweat, or tears, or how much sitting that way hurt. You just needed to get him to breathe now.

"I -" he hacked. "I'm not strong enough. I'm not….I'm not manly enough. Even now. What if you get hurt again - or worse? Because I couldn't….I can't…."

You shook your head and kissed his damp hair. "Eijiro - honey, listen to me, it wasn't your fault. Really. This was me being overconfident. It was my own fault. You're an amazing hero. Thousands of people look up to you. You have to stop beating yourself up. You're being the best hero you can be. And I love you for every bit of who you are. No matter what happens to me, you'll always be my number one hero."

Eijiro sobbed harder, gripping you closer. You didn't complain at the protesting throbs of pain screaming all over your body. You sat a while longer. When he was finally feeling better, he carried you back to your chair. Then he took a quick rinse in the shower before pushing you home. Your friends had prepared everything for a movie night when you got back; movies, drinks, takeout. 

You could see the relief in their faces.

You still caught him giving you long, guilty glances. You would only lean over and kiss the look away. But you could never know the weight of what you said. He wanted to eat, sleep, live, and breathe by that creed.

You'll always be my hero.

~

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 12: Capsaicin

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Maybe he wrote her address wrong.

The odds of that happening are pretty damn slim; Mulder’s had it down by heart for years, but he’s grasping at all possibilities right now.

He had sent the letter through the postal service in an attempt to keep himself from stressing out over its delivery, but that plan backfired the minute the envelope left his hands.

He dropped it in the mail on Saturday evening. It’s now Wednesday, and Scully has made no mention of it. There’s been no indication in her demeanor at all to suggest that she’d received any revelatory mail-pieces.

He might live the rest of his life in this horrific limbo, a purgatory of his own construction. He’s been on pins and needles all week, filling the basement office with nervous energy, furtively glancing at Scully in attempts to read her facial expressions. Did she get the letter and throw it out? How is she so calm? Maybe it got stuck in one of the sorting machines…

Before he knows it, Scully’s bidding him a friendly “goodnight” and shutting the office door.

Say what you will about anxiety, but it sure spices up the workday.

Mulder drives home in a fog; he’s exhausted from the mental exertion of thinking in circles and jumping to conclusions. Inside his apartment he flops down on the sofa and calls for takeout from the Thai place down the street that has his order memorized.

The next time he confesses his undying love to somebody, he’s going to use e-mail.

A knock on his door shakes him from his reverie.

“How much do I owe-” he begins as he opens the door, then freezes.

Scully is standing at his doorstep, a high flush on her cheeks. She looks somehow startled, as though he surprised her by opening his own front door.

“Scully,” he says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mulder,” she replies, voice cracking on the edges. Her big blue eyes are full, ready to spill over her lower lids.

Oh.

“You read it,” he says softly. He feels his chest tighten into a tight knot of anxiety, and he swallows hard.

She nods. “Can I- I need to come in.”

He stands aside, ushers her into his living room.

She’s vibrating with nervous energy. Mulder motions to the couch. “Would you, uh, like to sit down?”

“I’d prefer to stand, thank you,” she says, voice tight. She grips her elbows.

“Well, I guess I’ll sit,” Mulder says softly, lowering himself to the couch. “Scully, I-“

She holds out a hand. “You got to say your piece, Mulder, now it’s time for mine.” Her lower lip crumples slightly, and he wants to get up and hug her.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “Mulder, when I received your letter today…” She blinks back tears. “I was completely overwhelmed. I’m not even sure how I managed to drive here,” she admits. “And I appreciate that in it you acknowledged the inopportune timing of your confession. Things just keep piling up,” she says. “But now I just want to know, need to know… why the hell did you wait so long?”

There’s pain in her voice, and he aches in return.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he says simply, “and then Mark happened.” It’s so insufficient, but it’s all he has.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she says. “I wish I’d known. I dragged you into this mess with him, and the whole time you… you felt that for me.”

“Scully,” he says slowly, “If I had told you I loved you, would you have still gone out with Mark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and his heart falls into his stomach.

“How can you ask me that?” she says, voice a rough whisper. “What do you want me to say?”

Say no. Please. “I’m only interested in the truth, Scully. You of all people know that by now.”

A tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away roughly. “I… I don’t know. Do you have any idea how long and hard I worked to not feel? I’d wake up every damn morning thinking about you. I’d scrub myself raw in the shower so you couldn’t smell me, sense how much I wanted you all fucking night. I’d come to work and turn my heart off, bury my feelings so deep that even now I can barely scratch the surface of them. I did it for years, Mulder.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “So when my mother introduced me to a nice man with a little girl, I decided to go for it. And I almost forget how to really feel something. But you… you never let me forget. And the rational choices cease to make sense.” She sniffs noisily. “You turned my entire world upside down.”

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry-” he begins.

“No,” Scully interrupts. “No, Mulder. I don’t want your guilt, or your pity; I don’t need it. I want you, and me. I want us to be the two broken people we are, healing. We can’t keep hurting each other with misguided attempts to protect each other.”

“What do you mean, then? How do we stop?”

“By being honest,” she says, coming around the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch. “We start here. Right now.”

“I-I don’t know how much more clear or honest I could possible be,” Mulder stammers. “The letter spelled it out. My cards are on the table.”

“They are,” she agrees, “But you wrote under the assumption that I wouldn’t reciprocate. You left no room for alternatives.”

“Alternatives being…”

Scully’s eyes are pleading. “Mulder,” she whispers, beseeching.

There’s a knock on the door.

Mulder glances over his shoulder, startled out of their moment. “I ordered Thai,” he explains. “If you’re here, then that must be the delivery guy,” he says.

Scully nods. “Likely.” She gets up from the sofa and crosses to the desk, fetching the tissue box there. “You should-”

“Answer the door, yeah,” Mulder agrees absently, standing and feeling his pockets for his wallet.

The bored teenager on the other side of the door holds the bag out. “Sixteen forty-nine,” he says.

“Give him a twenty,” Scully instructs from the living room, blowing her nose.

Mulder digs a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the delivery guy. “You and the Mrs have a good night,” the boy says, stifling a yawn as he shoves the money into the pack on his waist.

“That tip was what, twenty-five percent?” Mulder grouses, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“Oh, so you can do math,” Scully says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So what’s your excuse for being a lousy tipper, then?”

“Spoken like a former waitress,” Mulder mumbles.

“You’re goddamn right,” Scully says. “Best IHOP server in San Diego.”

Her bravado contrasts sharply with her puffy eyes and watery voice, and Mulder wants to pull her into his arms and never let go.

“You want any of this?” he asks, pulling steaming cartons out of the bag. “There’s plenty for both of us, and if you don’t eat I’ll feel like a crappy host.”

She sits back down on the couch, setting the tissue box on the coffee table. “If you don’t mind sharing,” she concedes.

“I’ll grab you a fork,” he replies, giving her knee a squeeze.

They eat quietly, passing cartons between them, migrating together until they’re shoulder to shoulder in the center of the couch.

“So,” Mulder says, “Before the food got here, we were talking about something pretty important.”

Scully nods, turning her fork to wind noodles around the tines. “That we were,” she agrees.

“About honesty,” he prompts. “Alternatives.”

Scully sets her fork down, closes her eyes. “This… this is difficult for me, Mulder. It’s surreal; I didn’t expect this outcome for us. For you to… to feel the way you do,” she clarifies.

“On the contrary,” Mulder says, “I feel like this was always going to happen, from the day we met. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

Scully looks at him then, eyes wide.

“Th-that’s the first time I’ve said that aloud,” he says in realization, eyes not leaving hers.

Scully nods. “How’d it feel?” she asks softly.

Mulder licks his lip. “Kinda depends on how it felt for you,” he responds, voice low.

She takes a deep breath. “Call me crazy, but I think I need to hear it again.”

He nods, then on impulse leans in until his mouth is next to her ear, strands of coppery hair tickling his cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he murmurs.

Scully reflexively grips the edge of the couch cushion. “Don’t,” she warns, voice husky and breathier than he expected. “I’m not ready.”

He draws back. “Ready for what?” he asks.

She smoothes her hair behind her ear. “You,” she says simply, looking him up and down out of the corner of her eye. She picks up her fork and takes another bite of noodles. “I’ve spent so long in denial, Mulder, I feel… flammable. Like the smallest spark could just…” she motions to herself. “Destroy my equilibrium, or something.”

“Is this the official medical terminology? Because I’m not familiar,” he quips.

She huffs a laugh. “No, Mulder. What I’m trying to say is that I think we should go slow. Whatever ‘going��� means, in this case.”

“But we are a we,” he clarifies.

“Yes, I think we are,” Scully says tenderly, facing him again. “I… I want to be. But I’m processing things, so I need you to give me time.”

You can have my whole life. “That’s fine by me,” he assures her. “So you think we have a spark, Scully?”

She licks her upper lip, nodding. “Oh yes,” she says, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “Yes, we do.”

He leans back into the couch cushions. “Well then,” he says, eyeing her lazily, “When you feel like starting some fires… I’m your boy.”

[savagetrickster]

Caffeine Rush (NSFW) | BNHA

anime  |  character:  bnha  |  bakugou katsuki

word count: 17,845

Themes/warnings: 18+, aged-up, praise kink, blowjob, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, swearing, mild degradation, unprotected sex 

The office building that made Ground Zero agency was quiet and still. The appointed office hours were over hours back. 

Most staff had already retired for the day. Among the black, lifeless screens on the desks, only hers stayed running bright and full of words on its screen. 

The cursor behind the word on the tail of her report was left to blink repetitively as she dragged her feet to the pantry. 

Her head felt numb with mental exhaustion as the weight of the nearing deadline reared its ugly head once again as the dreading thought of it reminded her again. The uneasiness and brooding anxiety that it brought about was no help in elevating the stress on her.

Between her heavy thoughts about the report taunting her from her computer screen, her legs brought her to the coffee machine. 

Her hand fell into a mechanical motion as it placed her mug on the dispenser and lifted to press the Espresso option on the LED screen.

This was her third cup...no, fourth. Wait, or was it the sixth? 

It didn’t even matter anymore.

She just needed to get through one more night of slaving away to finish it, and she would be fucking done with this long-due paperwork.

It was stupid of her to procrastinate so much; now she had to pay the price.

In the lonely silence of the pantry, her weary eyes watched the dark coffee dribble over her mug, sending one central ripple across the smooth steaming surface. 

Her hand returned its grip to the handle once again, tugging it out of the dispensing holder. 

A yawn left her as she turned away and instantly greeted with a startled-

“Fuck-” As the coffee in her mug was sent swishing and splashing over its rim as her hand collided into something solid with a curt jerk.

The scalding sting over her hand made her hiss. Her eyes flew up with irritation, her mouth opening to yell.

And she froze.

Then her eyes widened, horror seeping in when she realized she was staring at the angry face of...Ground Zero himself.

Her eyes followed his gaze down to the coffee dripping off his pants.

Well, shit.

A hasty jumble of ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry’ tumbled out of her mouth as she placed down her mug on the countertop behind while her other hand tore a handful of paper towels.

Her knees met as she quickly lowered herself before his stained pants. 

Maybe it was the nights spent over the stupid report. 

Maybe it was the coffee.

It seemed that all common sense or whatever would have kept her from grabbing the front of her boss’s pants had died along with her overworked brain cells.

Her apologies continued stumbling out of her mouth as her hands worked in a hasty pace on his pants, her eyes focused on wiping away the spillage.

Too caught up in her guilt and her panic to realize anything else-

The warmth in her hands was trying to pull away. 

The stuttering mess of curses uttered above her.

The stiffening within her grasp.

He just returned from a long day outside to take some stuff and his craving for the aromatic bitterness of coffee was what brought himself straight to the pantry the moment he stepped through the main door. 

It was absurd to think he would end up being groped by a female employee in the pantry. The brewing words he wanted to yell at the woman with fell at every brisk rub down him. 

Bakugou could feel the resisting voice bubbling in his chest growing quieter at every stroke. 

Fuck. While this was bizarre and all to him, the jolting thrill running up his length sent a delicious chill up his spine. 

A particular thrill of friction brushing over the protruding vein on his clothed erection shook his next breath out of him.

Loud and harsh enough to draw her eyes up to him, her hands pausing.

And was met with a flustered yet irritated face glaring back at her.

Her eyes drifted back to her hands blankly at where her fingers were wrapped around - something was thick and kinda...lengthy. 

In her hands was Ground Zero’s...oh wow.

She always had dirty thoughts about her boss but damn, this was not what she had ever imagined herself doing. 

Along with muscular, lean built and tall stature that could give models a run for their money, the bulge accentuated in his flattering, somewhat fitting pants was a big distraction for the females in his agency...or maybe it was just her. 

Exactly as she had imagined, he was indeed...big in her hands.

And it was...

Her fingers tightened slightly. ...hard.

A responsive jolt accompanied by a hissing curse made her jump, slapping her with a cold splash of realization.

Shit.

That she was on her knees in her company’s pantry, caressing her boss’s cock.

Oh shit.

Her hands flinched away from him as if scalded and her legs scrambled to get her away. A bright, red blush colored the flustered horror on her face.

She was so fired. 

So so FIRED-

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

Her eyes raised to find him looking down at her with a towering glare brimming with impatience and frustration.

“You think you can just get away like this?” 

“I’m so sorr-”

“Weren’t you just fondling with my cock?” His usual husky voice sounded rougher and breathless. “Who the fuck said you can stop?”

She stared, stunned. Wondering whether her ears were failing her as well. 

But clearly they weren’t because she could hear an intriguing strain in his voice.

The struggle in his gruffness and the red eyes prodding into her sent a needy ache within her, feeling a gush of her arousal soaked through her panties underneath her dress.

A slip of her eyes from his face, a shiver ran through her at how his nipples on his well-defined pecs were poking through the tight clad of his hero costume on him. 

Her eyes slipped even lower.

The huge tent prodding through his pants made her eyes waver and her breath quivered through her lips. 

Was she high from all the coffee? Or had she officially gone nuts?

She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t even want to care.  

The man of her dreams himself was offering himself to her. 

She could feel her body trembling with a strong ache. The long, yearning ache that had followed her through the years and pushed her to join his agency.

An ache to be filled by Bakugou Katsuki, the world’s second strongest man.

An ache to feel him shove his cock into her.

An ache to make her wild thoughts about him come true.

She felt the last straining thread holding herself back snap as her hands flew forward, immediately working on the buckle around his waist.

Her lips were stretched over his leaking cock as soon as it sprang free from his pants. 

The pre-cum spilling over from his swollen tip smeared over her lips as she moaned giddily at the melting heat in her mouth.

The hand tugging harshly onto her hair dug even more pressure into her scalp as a throaty groan joined her muffled moan.

“Ye-Yeah, show me what you’ve got.” 

A grin stretched across Bakugou’s face as he pressed himself harder into her, feeling his cock sink deeper into her warm cavern, her moans spiked with a choke. 

“And I’ll give you a good one later.” 

His hand left her head to join the other clutching onto the edge of the countertop behind her.

Her walls clenched to his words just as her eyes watered at the pressure pressed to the back of her throat.

Fuck, he was as thick as she had guessed. But she had never imagined he would be so...veiny.

She drew back and relished in the heavy pants and moans from above, tracing her tongue daringly across the trails of veins running along with his lengthy girth. 

Her hands raised to join her mouth, adding on with tightening squeeze as she lingered at the tip of his bulging cock. 

A slow, elaborate lick across the weeping slit on it, her throat swallowed with a  deep gulp.

Almost instantly, a dragging grunt rumbled through his body. 

Humming in delight at what she heard, her cheeks hollowed as she started to suckle heatedly over the hot running tip. 

Within the firm grip of her hand, she could feel his thick girth filling up, growing thicker as she welcomed more pre-cum into her.  

The husky moans from above light a smirking glint in her eyes as she reached a hand up his length and clamped over his balls with a teasing curt squeeze.

Immediately, the husky moans from him hitched with a broken grunt. 

Her walls clenched tight at how erotic that sounded.

“Y-You take my cock so well. Do you think you deserve to be fucked by me?”

The small collected pool of her own arousal on the floor beneath her heated cunt was rained upon by another surge as her walls convulsed with need.

“No, I-I don’t,” His stiff cock popped free from her mouth, a slick thread of her saliva remained connected to its flushed, bloated tip. 

“Bu-But Bakugou-sama, you deserve to be inside me.” Her eyes were fogged with hazy heat and her cheeks red. 

Bakugou…

His cock spluttered another rush of pre-cum. 

...-sama?

“I-I’ve been ready for you ever since I laid my eyes on you.” 

His red eyes shook with his expelling breath as a carnal jolt rippled through him, his cock tightening even more with the growing pressure within.

“Strip completely,” His eyes blazed as he spat his order, “Get on that table and show me how much your pussy wants me then.”

Clothes were strewn on the floor in an irregular trail to the broad table sitting in the center of the pantry. 

Propped by her arms behind her, her legs shook with effort to keep her thighs wide apart for him. 

Her heated cunt wouldn’t stop leaking, trickles of her slick fluid continued to join the collected puddle on the table below as the man took his time to approach.

The way his hungry gaze sat fix on her weeping folds stretched wide enough for the chills from the air conditioner to tickle her. 

Red eyes took in the sight before him greedily.

The clench of her eyebrows on her forehead

The way she bit down on her lower lips. 

Her face flushed red and her breasts rising and falling with harsh pants.

And the way her raised thighs were spread wide apart for him.

“Look at you,” Bakugou stopped before her, his lips forming a smug smirk at the sight for the glistening trickles slipping out of her, “...Already dirtying my property with your slutty pussy.” 

Her breathy pants spiked with a moan as he pressed two fingers to her clit, pinching it briefly before moving down.

A gathering of her warm arousal coated his fingers as they ran lightly over her-  

“I haven’t even done shit yet,” -and paused to pry her sopping folds apart. “But fuck, you’re already so wet.”

A gasping whimper puffed out of her as his fingers pushed through the thick coat and into her aching walls. 

The wet, lewd squelch dragged through the air as her wispy whimper rose to a drawn moan at the delicious thrill his fingers made as they bulldozed their way into her sensitive walls.

She found it hard not to stare at the way his erected, weeping cock prodded against his toned stomach. Wondering with a wistful sigh about how it would feel inside her.

“Ba-Bakugou-sama, I-” A rough shove of one more finger into her tore a startled cry through her words. 

“You what?” His lips widened with a grin as his fingers curled and stretched teasingly within her pulsing walls.

“P-Please…” 

Her eyes raised to his, staring back helplessly at the amusement in his dancing red eyes, trying not to give in to her aching desire to return to his cock. “...fuck me.”

Her struggle against her straying eyes was not missed.   

“Aren’t my fingers already doing that?” His knowing grin widened. “Oh you mean...like this?” 

His calloused fingers inside her suddenly sped, thrusting through her walls vigorously.

Gasping moans rode through her throat as fast, furious friction of the loud, lewd squelches accompanying his pumping fingers rubbed the heated air between them frantically.

The building pleasure within her was making her dizzy with euphoric fever as her moans rose. 

Uncontrollable hot tears escaped her dazed, wavering eyes as she watched his fingers work heatedly between her wide opened thighs.

Her walls were convulsing, resonating with her urgent need to release the pent-up pressure inside her. 

Not even coffee could keep her this awake. 

The jolting thrills were shaking her overstimulated body. “Baku-Bakugou-sama, I’m-” 

His fingers were ripped out of her before she could finish. A startled moan elicited out of her at the same time.

The slick threads connecting his fingers to her spilling cunt quivered as Bakugou brought his hand up, his eyes admiring the result of his work with a satisfied glint.

He brought his heavily coated fingers before her panting, parted lips with a smug, intense gaze. 

“Clean up this shit.” His gruff voice was commanding and blunt.

Her lips immediately latched onto his fingers, hastily lapping up her own fluid. It tasted weird on her tongue, but she didn’t bother too much. 

She could feel her body shivering with impatience and frustration. One big gulp down her throat, her eyes raised to him with anticipation, in time to see his hand run over his cock.

“I think it’s time I give you your little reward.” His eyes met hers. “Be grateful that I, Ground Zero, even considered putting my cock inside you.”

“Tha-Thank you, Ground Zero.” Her eyes followed his hand as it slid over his swollen tip. 

“Bakugou-sama suits your mouth better. Eyes up here,” The edge in his voice hardened. Her eyes raised to his obediently. “Thank me properly if you want me inside now.” 

A thrill jolted through her cunt.

Fuck, in her head where her imagination ran wild, he was always the dominating one but witnessing it with her own eyes...Shit, she never knew he could be any more sexier. 

“Thank you, Bakugou-sama.” A sultry purr reverberated in her chest as she sighed giddly at the sinful sight the way his leaking arousal was giving away his own needs for her cunt.

Today was probably by far the best day of her life. The sex gods if there were any, were smiling down on her.

“Now, get down onto the floor on all fours.”

Her slick arousal cascaded down her thighs the moment she eagerly set herself on her knees. Her  softly arched back accentuated her ass as her excitement ran through her throbbing walls.

A shuddering chill ran up her spine at the light brush of his cock across her protruding ass as Bakugou planted himself behind her.

His eyes narrowed at the gap between her thighs.

“Is this how you show me your gratitude?” His hand landed on her butt cheek with a harsh slap. She responded to him with a sharp cry as her body jolted.

“Open wider.” A sharp sting rang across her other butt cheeks as another slap landed.

“...And I’ll fuck you like the little slut you are.” 

His words sounded so...hot to her ears.

With a shivering whimper, she obeyed, lowering herself with forearms propped shakily on the floor beneath her. 

Her butt cheeks spread open as she pushed her thighs apart for him.

His breath shuddered out of him as he watched the quivering threads of her slick fluid stretched, following the widening space between her sopping folds she made from parting herself.

All these...

A strangled groan escaped him. 

...for him.

The tight pressure strained in his bulging girth even more. Fuck, he couldn’t wait anymore.

His hand slipped up her arched back and wrapped itself tightly around the end of her long hair, her back arching even more to his firm grip on her, as his other slathered his needy cock over her dripping slit. 

The delirious whimper shuddering down to her cunt fanned his carnal ache to shove himself in.

The tightening grip on her hair was her only warning before his hip shot forward. His cock plunged through the pouring flow of her arousal and buried completely into her in one powerful rut.

The bright flash of pleasure searing through the sudden big, wide stretch of her cervix forced a choked moan out of her, hot tears spilling out of her widened eyes at how thick he was.

“Fu-Fuck,” A trembling grunt shook out of his lips as he drew himself back through the walls clamped in a vice-like grip around him. “What a tight little bitch you are-”

His cock rammed in one bruising thrust, shoving an instantaneous sharp cry out of her mouth.

More continued to tumble out of her as he continued to hammer into her, his hand tugging harshly onto her hair like it was his rein.

The other hand in a clutching grip on her hip as his cock drove fiercely through her pulsing walls. 

Helpless sobbing moans forced out her mouth at every rough snap of his hip. Her eyes nearly rolled back every time he pounded into her.

A sly grin stretched his panting lips as he thrusted mercilessly into her

“Too much for you?” A slap on her ass drew another cry from her. 

Somewhere between his powerful ruts, his hand had left her hair and joined the other on her hip in a harsh grip. 

His intense gaze glared into her as she staggered weakly on her shaky arms with giddy whimpers and groans. She was a slobbering mess beneath his towering stance.

“Keep up with me.” A growl ripped through his words as he gave her another slap on her ass.

In the smothering heat ramming between her clenching walls, she was beginning to see white flashes behind her fluttering blinks. 

Blazing brighter and brighter as she felt his rushing cock push her fast to the edge. She couldn’t anymore. 

It was too...

“Ba-Bakugou-sama!” 

A tattered shriek broke her voice as a starburst of electrifying ripple shattered through her shaking body, her orgasm instantly flooding his relentless cock with her rich arousal.

The hiss sifted through his gritted teeth as Bakugou bit back a groan at the hot burst and her rapidly gripping walls that were engulfing him greedily.  

Fuck. This was it for him too.

Along with the squeezing tightness around him, the overpowering load in his cock forced the rolls of his hip to grow hectic and furious.

Her fleeting moans joined his breathless groans as he chased his own release with a fervor blazing in his red eyes, ramming hot blistering thrusts into her.

His desperate thrusts were accompanied with slippery, frantic squelches loud enough to mingle with harsh claps of their slapping skin as his hip met with her flushed ass heatedly.

One particularly sharp, powerful thrust forward forced a growling moan shredding through his mouth as his hip snapped into her and buckled erratically.

A loud sultry groan dragged through her throat as she felt the bulging tip of his swollen cock nestle into the deepest part of her with a rough prod. 

The hot burst of his thick rich seed spluttering fiercely inside her made her eyes roll back.  

The back of his muscular thigh clenched as he held his spurting cock snug inside her, expelling a wavering satisfied sigh.

Her dragging groan ended with a delirious whimper as she relished in the warm fullness inside her, her walls stirring their mixed fluid with fluttering clenches.

One thought ran in her hazy head as she crumbled to the floor, amused and amazed.

That she had done it.

Her dreams came true.

That she had actually fucked one of the hottest men alive.

[sneezyminniejo]

Hii! Can I request a sickfic where Stray Kids are on tour in Japan and Hyunjin get a stomach bug? Thank you..

Here it is, hope you enjoy,

TW emeto

Hotel Mess

The Stray Kids members were currently in Japan for the last leg of their world tour. They had already done two concerts here and had one more scheduled for tonight and one for tomorrow night before heading back home. They were all still extremely excited and pumped for their concerts. Well all except for one member.

Hyunjin had woken up feeling like absolute shit. He had a headache, he felt both hot and cold, and his stomach was churning uncomfortably. He wasn't entirely sure how or where since he was really only ever around his fellow members, but it was clear he somehow caught a stomach bug.

Hyunjun knew that he needed to tell someone he was sick, but wasn't sure how to broach the topic. Mainly because Jisung's anxiety was flaring up a bit and he didn't want to make everyone more stressed.

However, Hyunjin didn't have to debate whether or not he should hide his illness, because as soon as he stood up he became extremely dizzy while his stomach lurched violently.

He did his best to stagger his way to the bathroom of his room, but didn't quite make it.

Before he could even reach the halfway mark to the bathroom, Hyunjun bent forward and gagged. A split second later a round of sick was making its appearance on the carpet of the hotel room. He dry heaved a couple of times after he finished puking then sat down next to the puddle, any energy he'd had previously, now depleted entirely.

Jisung, who had been in the bathroom brushing his teeth, had heard some kind of commotion coming from his roommate and fellow 2000 liner, but wasn't entirely sure what it was. He spit the toothpaste into the sink, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom to investigate.

What he found was Hyunjin sitting on the floor in between the two beds with a puddle of vomit next to him. He quickly hurried over to him and placed his hand on the older's forehead, not the slightest bit surprised to find him feverish.

"Jinnie, you feeling okay?" He asked his sick hyung. Hyunjin groaned while shaking his head while holding his abdomen. "Do you need help getting to the bathroom?" Jisung asked, not quite sure what all he could do, but gently helped Hyunjun to his feet when he nodded.

Jisung safely got Hyunjin situated in front of the toilet just in time to watch him begin puking again. Jisung watched his hyung empty the contents of his stomach for a good minute before helping him rest against the bathtub when he finished.

“Aish hyung, you aren’t in any condition for the concert tonight. I need to tell Chan hyung and figure out how to get the carpet cleaned.” Jisung was primarily thinking out loud, but Hyunjin heard every word and was in no condition to argue. As much as he’d like to argue about telling Chan he can’t perform, the room was spinning and there were two Jisungs. Hyunjin just wanted to go back to bed.

Jisung momentarily left the bathroom to go digging in his suitcase for the thermometer that he knew was in there. Chan always made sure that at least one member per rooming arrangement had one along with other items just in case. He quickly found it and scanned the other’s forehead. “Shit hyung, we need to get this lowered fast. Your fever is 103.2.” Jisung quickly turned on the faucet of the bathtub, making sure it was lukewarm and waited for it to fill up.

Jisung helped Hyunjin undress down to his boxers, then helped him into the tub. He then quickly left again to grab his phone and returned to the bathroom. When he got to the bathroom however, Hyunjin’s face somehow got paler and greener. Jisung rapidly grabbed the tiny trash can located near the toilet and held it under his hyung’s head.

Hyunjin gagged a couple of times before his head was basically thrust into the can as he dry heaved into it. After several moments of dry heaving, only a small stream of bile came out. Hyunjin leaned back when he was done and whimpered in discomfort. He then heard a phone ringing quickly followed by Jisug answering it.

“Yeah hyung, Jinnie is in zero condition for the concert tonight. He’s thrown up at least twice and he’s got a high fever.” Hyunjin turned to see that Jisung was talking on the phone.” Jisung sighed as he hung up the phone and turned back to Hyunjin.

“Chan hyung is having a manager talk with the front desk about getting us moved to a different room. You stay in the tub for a bit and I’ll make sure our suitcases are set for the move. Holler if you need me.” With that Jisung left the bathroom.

It only took a few minutes for Jisung to get everything put together and he returned grabbing the thermometer off the bathrom counter. He quickly scanned Hyunjin’s forehead again. “It’s a little bit lower hyung. It’s now 102.8. Let’s get you out of the tub and changed, the manager will be here shortly. The manager showed up and helped carry the bags while Jisung braced Hyunjin. He offered to carry the sick member, but Jisung adamantly refused not wanting to increase the chance of it spreading beyond him and Hyunjin. He just needed to convince Chan to let him sit out of the concert as well.

The duo got into the room and their manager told them that he called room service to bring up some soup. He then left to go buy some fever reducers on Jisung's request.

Jisung helped Hyunjun get settled on the bed nearest to the bathroom. "How do you feel hyung?" Jisung asked. "Like shit." Was all Hyunjin said. "I'm going to quick fill up the ice bucket. Do you think you'll be okay for a few minutes?" Hyunjin nodded and Jisung left the room with the bucket.

In the few minutes that Jisung was gone, the soup had arrived and was sitting on a cart outside the room. Jisung placed the ice bucket on the cart and wheeled into the room. He brought the bowl of soup over to the sick member then took the bucket to the bathroom to fill with water.

Hyunjin was a bit hesitant to eat the food. He wasn't sure how his body was going to tolerate anything, but also knew he needed to eat something. He began to eat slow bites of the soup as Jisung returned with a bucket of ice water and a washcloth.

Jisung sat on the bed next to Hyunjin and dipped the cloth in the bucket before wringing it out and placing it on the older's neck. Jisung then turned on the TV and began eating his own bowl of soup. The duo ate in relative silence, and by the time they finished Hyunjin was beginning to nod off.

Jisung quickly and quietly put the bowls back on the cart before getting back on the bed to cuddle with his sick hyung. He knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, but he knew that Hyunjin loved to cuddle when he wasn’t feeling good. Jisung also had a fairly strong immune system. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had last been genuinely sick with anything other than a minor cold, and those usually lasted like three days, so he wasn’t worried. Jisung fell asleep not too long after Hyunjin.

About an hour later, Hyunjin suddenly woke up a bit confused. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had woken up, but before he could ponder it any, he began throwing up all over the bed and his oldest dongsaeng.

Hyunjin felt like he couldn’t control himself at all. He could feel how his stomach contracted painfully as it pushed the bile and the soup from lunch up his throat. Which in turn triggered his gag reflex so he could properly expel whatever was making his stomach so angry.

Once he had finished puking, he was able to take note of what had happened and realized that he had puked all over his dongsaeng, who was sitting frozen on the bed and looked to be on the brink of tears. Hyunjin was about to start apologizing, but Jisung shot up and ran to the bathroom before he could. A few seconds later, Hyunjin could hear what sounded like Jisung puking.

“Sungie, are you okay?” Hyunjin called, guilty that his dongsaeng had evidently caught his stomach bug. He met with further retching around noises that sounded kind of like ‘I’m fine. A minute later, Jisung emerged from the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers.

“That did not feel good.” Jisung muttered as he dug through his suitcase for some clean clothes. He looked up to find Hyunjin looking extremely guilty. “What’s up hyung?” he asked somewhat cautiously. Hyunjin sniffled, “I got you sick.” Jisung chuckled at that.

“While I have to admit that puking so suddenly and hard like that did not feel good, and that technically you did cause the puking, I’m not sick.” Hyunjin’s face morphed from guilt and concern to confusion at that statement.

“I operate pretty well around vomit and people puking, but as soon as someone pukes on me, my body kind of freaks out and decides it needs to expel whatever as well. I promise I’m fine.” Jisung finished his explanation then began to strip the bed of the duvet, which caught the puke that hadn’t landed on his lap.

“I think you should take it easy tonight though Sung, just in case.” Jisung nodded in understanding and took his phone off the nightstand, calling Chan.

After a couple of rings, Chan picked up. “What’s up Sung, How’s Jinnie?” “About that hyung, Hyunjin threw up again, then threw up right after.” Chan sighed upon hearing this. “Alright, I’ll talk with the managers and the other members and see if we can manage the show with just six, or if we have to cancel or postpone tonight’s concert. We’ll discuss tomorrow’s concert tomorrow. Feel better you two.” Chan hung up shortly thereafter, leaving the two oldest 2000 liners to their own devices.

Jisung put the phone down and noticed the box of fever reducers he had completely forgotten about on the cart with the room service. He grabbed the thermometer, the medicine, and some crackers before going back over to Hyunjin. He scanned the older’s forehead with the thermometer. “The good news is your fever is still down a little at 102.8, but the bad news is it hasn’t gone down any more. Do you think you can stomach a few crackers and take some medicine?” Hyunjin nodded and took the crackers. After he ate the crackers he took the offered dose of medicine and slumped back against the pillow.

It was soon decided that it would be too difficult to rearrange the choreography from eight people to six on such short notice, so management issued a statement postponing the remaining two concerts for the following week. Thankfully the location they were performing in was free the following week, so it wasn’t too difficult to rearrange some things. Twitter and Bubble had been blowing up from concerned fans wishing the sick members ‘get well soon’.

During the week they now had off for recovery, Jisung made sure that no one else actually came into the room. He only opened the door to receive the food their manager had arranged, successfully keeping the stomach bug contained to his and Hyunjin’s hotel room.

Just as Jisung had told Hyunjin, he was absolutely fine. He had never developed a fever and only puked the one time, so it was fairly safe to say he hadn’t caught the virus.

Hyunjin on the other hand spent the first couple of days throwing up every few hours. Thankfully he was able to keep food down to some extent, so his fever was able to be kept at a manageable number. He stopped vomiting three days into the week, and his fever broke two days before the first rescheduled concert. Hyunjin went on vlive the day before the first concert to talk with Stay and assure them that he was feeling much better, but wouldn’t be dancing during the concert. Jisung also made an appearance and assured fans that no one else had gotten sick as they had both remained sequestered to their hotel room the entire time.

[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 9

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Ten

Warnings: Food mention, General Angst, Hurt/Comfort, and a difference of opinions.

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Word Count: 2,439

Roman paced anxiously in the hallway before Logan’s door, the paper in his hands had been wrinkled, smoothed out, and then wrinkled again before he had tried to smooth it out once more… this time less successfully. 

He had been more than a little surprised when Logan had come to him with a list of things he wanted Roman to pick out, normally when it came to getting anything done they had two totally different mindsets of what should be done when it came to Thomas. And once it came time to do things they would clash just as they always had, as Roman instinctively wanted Thomas to just have fun and follow his passions. Whereas Logan was the exact opposite of that, and he had always wanted Thomas to do the things he needed to do, whether they were fun or boring. Roman had always kind of hated him for that, for seemingly shooting down his every idea, for a more and more boring one that sucked the fun out of everything. 

But this new plan…

“You too huh?” Roman’s head snapped up in an instant, and locked eyes with Virgil who had his hands on his own version of a wrinkled set of papers. “Apparently Patton got one too, and the oth… the dark sides too.” 

A bolt of surprise leapt through Roman, so Logan wasn’t asking just them anymore? He was actually, well and truly, going to everyone to see what they wanted done. He could imagine that Remus must’ve been quite surprised to be asked such a thing from Logan of all people. Especially with how they had clashed just recently, or had Logan just given Janus the papers with the instruction to give it to Remus too. If that were the case… then Remus would have seen this as nothing more than homework to be done, and probably shredded it the moment that it landed in his hands. 

Or maybe not… 

Roman was smart enough to acknowledge that he didn’t exactly know his brother that well. That and Remus always tried to do what they least expected from him, as one big twist surprise ending towards them all.

He was annoying like that. 

Roman’s eyes snapped towards the door, and Virgil fidgeted in his place for some reason looking very uncomfortable at the prospect of entering. “Yeah…” He finally said, scratching the back of his head. “It definitely was kind of… interesting. I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me for a while, we didn’t exactly part well last time.” That was an understatement, he remembered yelling at Logan… and just being so angry before he had come to terms with it all. “I’m surprised that Logic even wants to see us and-” 

A snarl peeled off of Virgil’s lips, and Roman flinched in surprise.

“His name is Logan, Roman.” The anxious side snapped in an instant, his eyes dark like thunderclouds before a torrential downpour. “Not Logic. Do you understand?” He growled, suddenly looking quite on edge for someone who had just been looking so nervous in the face of Logan’s door. 

It felt a bit like whiplash. 

But even so Roman held his stance firmly, he was determined when it came to this and he wasn’t going to let one of Virgil’s temper tantrums get in the way of it. Not anymore, and not with everything that had happened recently. He was Logan’s shield, he had sworn that he would be that for him even if the logical side didn’t know it, and even if he never knew it. Roman was on his side, and he would remain on his side for as long as the logical side would have him. 

So he crossed his arms, “I think his name is whatever he chooses for it to be, Virgil.” He stressed the other side’s name, feeling only an inkling of guilt at how the anxious side stepped back for a second. “We don’t have the authority to tell him what he will or will not be called. If he wants to be called Logic, then Logic is what we’ll call him. It’s not up to you.” Roman stared at Virgil, meeting his eyes dead on and not breaking eye contact until the anxious side’s eyes darted away. “Got it?” He asked, feeling the tiniest bit of satisfaction in how he had turned the other’s words back on him. 

A beat of silence, and then…

“Thank you Creativity.” Both of the sides looked up in a hurry, their eyes locking onto the logical side who stood before them, his door previously shut tight was now wide open. He held his own stack of papers, all neatly pressed and without a single crease or line on them. “Both of you may come on in, if it so pleases you.”  

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into his room, leaving the other two sides to follow him. 

The atmosphere was… more than a little tense to say the least. 

The bedroom that had previously been Logan’s looked nothing like what it was now, to the point where it was almost night and day with the comparisons. The posters were gone, the string lights, the pictures of all of them, the bookcases, the crumpled up paper balls that had once been ideas, even the… the fanfiction that Roman used to help Logan write… it was all gone. It was like everything had just been stripped away, and a boring office cubicle had taken its place. The deep blue walls were now a pale cream color, and the lush carpet was now just bland grey tile worn with a path of someone who walked in the same place for years and years.  

Roman had thought that Logan’s room had been boring before, but this… 

This was a whole new ball game. 

And looking at the stark horror that was etched out onto Virgil’s face, he could very well tell that the anxious side was thinking the same thing that he was. 

“So…” Roman cleared his throat as his voice cracked almost immediately. “I’m.. I’m a…” He fumbled badly with his words, the shock he had just went through robbing him of what he had prepared himself to say. He’d been asked here for a specific reason, and if he failed the simplest thing he had been asked… then what good was he? “I’m sure that Thomas can do the things that you want him to. It shouldn’t be that ha-”      

Almost immediately Logan cut in, “Don’t aim too high,” The logical side suggested, rather politely. In a way that Roman could tell that what he was saying wasn’t necessarily out of malice or anything. Instead, it feels like Logan’s saying to be more helpful, almost like a coworker giving some good advice.

But Roman can only nod, the underlying message behind that advice all too clear for him. 

“I aimed too high.” It says, “And I got burned for it, so don’t do what I did. Save yourself.” 

The tension has not eased a single bit. 

And then, Logan lifts his cup up, taking a slow and steady sip from it, as if he was trying to ease the atmosphere by doing something. The warm brown liquid swirled around in Logan’s cup with the clinking of ice accompanying it, and Roman’s nose itched with the faintest smell of spices wafting off of it. He got the faintest whiff of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves. Had… had Logan completely given up coffee and switched over to having chai tea of all things? He would have expected that from someone like Patton, or even Virgil, to lessen the other’s anxiety.

But Logan?  

Roman had to bite his bottom lip at the mental image of Logan becoming one of those “dark academia” people that sat in the library and looked gloomy and so freaking cool all the time... kind of like Janus. Although Janus… Janus was more of a wine person, that much he could tell from miles away without even having to get close to that snake. 

“Don’t you normally drink coffee?” Virgil asked, wrinkling his nose at the spicey mixture in Logan’s cup, and Roman fought the urge to elbow him in the gut for his remark. “What’re you drinking?” 

Logan, to his credit, didn't even seem like he was going to get mad or anything at Virgil’s pure judgment and vitriol towards the drink of his choice. He merely took a longer sip than usual, licking the droplets that remained from his bottom lip when he pulled the cup away. He looked… calmer, before Logan would have vehemently defended his food choices against anyone who tried to question him. But at the same time, it felt more than a little wrong, Logan may have shifted towards the spicier drink, but where was his spice? Where was Logan’s sharp tangy flavor that made him so different from them? 

This Logan was like coffee now, bitter and… not at all to their taste. 

Logan just smiled that polite smile, and Roman had to force himself to smile back.

“I’ve found that drinking coffee isn’t exactly beneficial in the long run,” Logan explained, as he swirled the content of his cup around in a steady motion. “It’s been known to enhance anxiety attacks astronomically,” Virgil’s face gave a funny look for a moment, before Logan went on. “And it also lowers blood pressure too.” 

Roman swallowed down the words that he wanted to say, “That’s great Logic, good job on looking ahead.” The words felt sour and dull in his mouth, logically… Logan should have known that him drinking coffee over tea wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t impact Thomas in any way, and it wasn’t like Logan himself would drop dead over some high blood pressure. Logan had just taken away one more thing that the logical side liked, and turned it into something else. “You did good.” 

For a split second something in Logan’s face changed abruptly, a slight widening of his eyes and a crease in his forehead and lips. 

Something changed, and then… 

The room flashed briefly, but just out of the corner of Roman’s eye, it was so brief that he almost missed it entirely but he was certain that he had seen it. 

The cubicle styling of Logan’s room, just momentarily flashing back to how it was supposed to look. With all of his space posters, hanging lights, and the organized mess that Roman had seen Logan’s room as before. It was.. It was as if the new room only existed when they looked at it, and not a moment too soon or too late for them.

The very thought alone made Roman’s stomach drop.

He had promised himself that he wouldn’t intervene if this was what Logan had truly wanted for himself, but even so… it didn’t ease the sting of pain that was accompanied by every new thing that Logan was starting to do when it came to any of them. He had thought that he could handle it, and that the pain of this somehow would be lesser than the guilt he had felt towards this whole situation. But.. 

It wasn’t. 

If anything this felt worse, he had talked himself into giving in and giving this to Logan. All of this was almost too much for him, his legs itched to run and take him out of this room so that he wouldn’t have to witness anything like this anymore. But he held himself firm, and refused to move. He forced himself to look back at Logan, at the logical side who is steadily typing away on his computer, inputting the information that both he and Virgil had brought to the other side. 

Speaking of Virgil though…

The anxious side looked like he wanted to either scream or cry at Logan, the emotions clashing like a thunderstorm on his face as his eyeshadow darkened in color for a few brief moments. Until finally Virgil sucked in a deep breath, his eyeshadow returning to its normal, usually messy state as he seemed to calm down for now. 

Reaching into his pocket Virgil pulled out a folded piece of paper, “For your… office.” Virgil caught himself on the last word, almost wanting to say something else. The cubicle looked like a prison to him, nothing at all like Logan’s old room, and he could very much see why Logan hadn’t wanted him in here before. So he says the word almost bitterly, because this whole situation feels bitter to him. There’s not one bit of sweetness to be found in it.

He only softens the slightest bit when Logan takes the paper, unfolding the picture he had drawn for the logical side. And when Logan actually pins it to his cubicle wall, his movements are careful and precise so as to not damage the art Virgil had made for him. It remains on the wall, in plain view for the logical side to look at while he’s working. Then and only then does Virgil feel an intense sense of relief sweeping through him like a hurricane. It’s one more piece of evidence for the both of them that Logan doesn’t entirely hate them, but also that things also aren’t the same between them.

At least not yet. 

“Okay…” Virgil clears his throat, before tugging on Roman’s sleeve to pull him towards the door. “We’ll leave you to your work.. Logic. Let us know if there is any other paperwork you need from us, and we’ll get it done…” Virgil paused, but for just a moment. “I promise.” 

Logan stopped in his typing, his eyes glancing up from the computer they had been otherwise glued to. A look of… something passed over the logical side’s face, before it vanished entirely. 

“Thank you…” 

It was the only two words that were whispered back, so softly that Roman had almost missed them entirely. And before he could even think to ponder the words, he was pulled out by Virgil, his head full of ideas as he remained ever more determined to give Logan things to put up in his new “office”. His mind was wild with ideas of painting, charcoal sketches, and pastel drawings that he could give to Logan to pin up. Anything to make his new room, just the slightest bit more hospitable for the side who was constantly having to be in there. And anything to let Logan know that they still cared for him, even if he was doing all of this.  

While Virgil…

Virgil felt just the slightest bit better.

[thishintoflove]

For the bobadin prompts; maybe something angsty with a little fluff?

I feel like a lot of fics don’t do enough exploration into the ‘caring Boba’ side - the one that decided ‘I’m just gonna help this random stranger save their child because why not?’ - and it always warms my heart when I find a fic that does.

Oh I feel the same way, anon! Don’t get me wrong, I love rough!Boba fics but I also truly believe that the man has a deep, caring side too. 

Here’s some soft!Boba helping Din during an anxiety attack, shortly after losing Grogu on Tython.

Boba Fett decided that he needed more information. 

The Slave I was on autopilot, headed to Nevarro at the request of the silver Mandalorian. Fennec was off somewhere in the ship, probably polishing her weapons, and Boba decided to go track down Mando. They’d barely exchanged more than a few sentences, but here he was, piloting his ship at the direction of some Mandalorian he’d just met all because he’d willingly given Boba his armor back. 

Bounty hunters lived in a world of exchanges: everything came with a price and Boba always paid his debts. The feeling of pure relief he felt at putting his father’s armor on again was so strong that the least he could do was help this fellow bounty hunter out. 

He shook his head as he quietly made his way through the passageways of his ship. No, it was more than that. If he was being honest with himself, he felt some deep, innate need to help the silver Mando due to his unique situation. He was a father and his child had been stolen. Instinct took over when Boba realized the situation, and he’d immediately offered his services to help the guy out because the mere thought of walking away knowing that he did nothing would have driven him mad with guilt. How could he purposely leave a child in the same situation that he himself had been left in? Boba Fett was not a man to leave a child fatherless when there was something he could do to help the situation. Apparently that meant he’d offer his ship and his services without thinking twice, all because the thought of separating a father and son made his stomach churn with unaddressed feelings. 

And now here he was, serving as a taxi service and a hired hand to a Mandalorian he didn’t really know or trust yet. So he needed more information. Surely Mando would be able to explain the whole situation, and then Boba could feel better about what he was doing instead of just feeling like a bit of a sucker. 

Boba climbed down the ladder into the cargo hold and immediately picked up on the sound of heavy, modulated breathing. He quietly moved toward the sound and peered among the crates to see Mando doubled over, his hand gripping at the beskar chest plate as he tried to control his rapid breaths. 

What was going on? Was Mando injured? He hadn’t seen any blood as they’d boarded the ship. Boba quickly ran through every single possibility that might have brought on this clear anguish that Mando was experiencing, and he quickly came to the obvious conclusion: the man was having a panic attack. 

Slowly, Boba approached the hyperventilating man and cautiously called out so that he wouldn’t frighten him,

“Mando? It’s Fett. Are you alright?”

It didn’t work and the man jumped anyway. He quickly whipped around and stared at Boba through his visor, one hand immediately going to the blaster on his hip. But the movement seemed to be too much for him and he wavered, gripping the edge of the crate to hold himself up. Boba quickly stepped forward and grabbed Mando’s shoulder, squeezing it in his strong grip as he helped the man sit down on the edge of the box. The gesture was meant to ground the other man, and he hoped he could convey a sense of calmness through the touch rather than frighten the man even more. A visible shudder rippled along Mando’s arms, down his chest, and through his entire body. After a few seconds, he was finally capable of taking a full breath.

“That’s right. Try to take deep breaths, my friend. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Boba coaxed, hoping his presence was helping Mando and not adding to his stress. 

He knew what it was like to feel small and desperately alone. Being a bounty hunter was a solo profession- there was no room for long-term relationships or building bonds with others. After all his years traversing the galaxy alone, Boba was self-aware enough to know that he didn’t react to kindness and touch in the same way that most people did. He assumed Mando was the same way. The armor they both wore put out a menacing image to others, but it didn’t change the feelings of the person inside it. They were both human, and sometimes humans needed to feel like they weren’t alone in the world. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe here,” Boba continued, speaking softly as he tried to think of what he’d like to hear if he was in this situation. He’d learned the steps necessary to regain control of his mind and body under the worst of situations and he hoped his methods would work on Mando too. “You’re safe. Take all the time you need.” 

Still sitting down, Mando’s hand landed on top of Boba’s that was settled on his shoulder. He kept his head tucked down toward his chest, still concentrating on his breathing, but his hand squeezed Boba’s in recognition and gratitude. They stayed in the same position for what seemed like an eternity before Mando finally drew his head up and turned to look at Boba through his helmet.  

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so small and tight that Boba could practically hear the tears in his eyes, even if he couldn’t see them. 

Mando’s other hand found its place on Boba’s forearm. While holding on tightly, the younger man emanated the gratefulness he felt at Boba’s touch. Honestly, Boba was surprised that it seemed to work so well. He wasn’t exactly known for his emotional intuition, but he was pleased he was capable of calming and resetting Mando. It confirmed his suspicion that they were more alike than he originally thought.  

“How are you feeling? Are you alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even but a hint of worry floated beneath it.

Mando swallowed hard before answering, “I am now. Whatever you did or are doing... it’s helping.” 

He took another deep breath, still trying to regain complete control. Boba slowly ran his hand down from Mando’s shoulder toward his lower arm, preparing to pull away, but as Mando felt him withdraw he rushed to grab his hand back, ensuring they maintained contact. Boba was surprised- expecting that Mando would want the physical contact to end as soon as possible. But maybe the man was finally being honest with himself and his own needs. It’d certainly taken Boba a long time to do the same thing, and he knew this probably wasn’t easy for Mando. If the man was asking for comfort via touch, Boba was not about to deny him. 

Mando grabbed onto his retreating hand, while the other hand gripped Boba’s forearm even tighter. Boba merely nodded and squeezed back, hoping to reassure the fragile man. 

“Please… don’t leave yet,” Mando said quietly. His voice was almost pleading, surprising Boba once again. He was pleased that Mando seemed to recognize that he would not judge, ridicule or shame him for his current weakened state. There was a new feeling in the pit of his stomach too- a gratifying, contented sensation that seemed to bloom when Mando admitted he needed him. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, slowly reaching up to rub the back of the other man’s neck, “I’ll stay.”

Mando hummed and let his head fall forward again, and Boba imagined his eyes falling shut in relief. Boba massaged Mando’s neck, trying to stay focused on comforting the younger man while ignoring the new feelings growing in his own chest. He realized he wanted to take care of him. He’d never felt such an immediate desire to protect someone before. Now was certainly not the time to dwell too deeply on that, but later Boba would reflect on the satisfaction he felt at being needed. 

He watched Mando’s hands clench and unclench, and finally the man tried to speak again, “I’m not usually… I never…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Boba replied, “Especially not now. I know you’re hurting.”

Mando nodded, but he glanced up at the ceiling of the ship and spoke anyway, “I had one job. One mission: to protect him. And I failed.”

His body began to shiver again, and Boba moved to sit beside him, wrapping one strong arm around the other man’s shoulders as he continued. “I failed him, and now he could be hurt or… or worse…”

“You haven’t failed him,” Boba said sternly, “A terrible accident occurred today, but you haven’t failed him and you won’t fail him.”

“But the Moff-”

“Do you want to get him back?” Boba asked, knowing the answer but wanting Mando to say it outloud. 

“More than anything,” Mando replied without hesitation. 

“Then we will. We will find him and we will get him back to you.”

Hearing the conviction in his voice must have helped, because Mando finally slumped against him, practically collapsing into Boba’s side. It was more physical contact than Boba had received in months, and he was surprised at how normal it felt-- as if it were the most natural thing in the world for this random Mandalorian to slot into his side like a puzzle piece. 

“Today, you’ve done enough,” Boba told him, hoping to keep the tension from creeping back into the other man, “There’s nothing else we can do until we reach Nevarro.”

Mando was silent, so Boba continued, “Say it with me. You’ve done enough.”

“I’ve done enough.”

Boba let out a pleased hum when Mando obeyed him. He even managed to sound sure of himself, which was definitely a step in the right direction. Boba reached down and patted the man’s knee with the hand that wasn’t still wrapped around his shoulders. He heard Mando sigh, just the softest of sounds, and Boba wished he knew what the man looked like so that he could properly imagine the way his lips parted at the sound. 

“I don’t know how to repay you. For taking me to Nevarro and for… this.” Mando said, sounding a bit more like his normal self.

“You do not need to repay me,” Boba told him, meaning every word. For once in his long life, he truly didn’t want anything in return. All he wanted was to make this strange yet familiar Mandolorian happy again. Maybe it was because he saw himself reflected in the younger man or maybe it was something more, but all that mattered was that Boba Fett was now dedicated to helping him find the foundling. 

”I will stay as long as you need me.”

[funkymbtifiction]

The 629/926 tritype and people-pleasing

I read your old post about the Enneagram & people-pleasing (https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/184965682165/can-someone-with-primary-or-auxiliary-fi-be-a) and had to laugh at myself about how ALL the numbers in my 926 tritype are motivated to people-please. A triple-whammy of being uncomfortable with conflict, caring a bit too much sometimes about other people’s opinions, and struggling to express one’s own needs. Do you have any tips for dealing with the anxiety/stress this kind of combination can bring, as I remember you’ve mentioned you also share this tritype in a different order? Conversely, do you think there are any strengths/assets to having this tritype? (so I can console myself after all the anxiety 😂). Thank you so much for helping me find my tritype :)

Yeah, it is. I talk about it in depth here.

I think probably the biggest asset for me is – I don’t and never have struggled with holding grudges. I can just forgive people (once I understand what motivated it, per my 6) and move on without harboring any deep resentments. A lot of the people around me struggle to forgive and forget and my anger just kind of … dissipates and goes away, sometimes immediately and other times over a few days or weeks. And believe me, that is an incredible asset, since there’s nothing worse or harder than fighting against being angry or wanting revenge all the time. Cinderella has this tritype and it’s always a wonderful moment for me in the live action film where she forgives her stepmother as she’s going out the door, because – she’s going into a brighter future, why would she carry the burden of past grievances with her?

The negative flip side of this, of course, is that this tritype is self-berating a lot, because it has a continuous desire to be a better person. All the fixes want to be more selfless and generous and strive for something more for themselves, and be kinder to people out of a 2-6 notion of what true goodness is like (less so with an 8 fix on the 9, but if they are 9w1 in particular – there’s all that sense of “moral right” slipping in). All 269 combos can beat themselves up for their mistakes or failures or how they failed a relationship (and it’s their fault) and be wondering why it happened or what went wrong and how they could have fixed it… long after they have forgiven and forgotten the other person’s sins, because they assume relationships are theirs to preserve, treasure, and fix (2). I would say this is the hardest thing to overcome, no matter what the order of your fixes are – this “taking the world onto my shoulders and making it my problem” aspect of relational habits. 269s have to learn that relationships can just fail, it’s not their fault, they don’t have to fix every single one, they don’t need some people in their life, they need to realize and accept that some people are toxic or wrong for them or cannot be fixed or drain their energy, and it doesn’t make them a bad person to walk away from that guilt-free.

This usually is a good-natured tritype that wants to be happy – but unlike the 279 isn’t in denial about the bad things, just doesn’t want to over-think about them. 2 and 9 together are always wanting to see the beauty of life, and focus on pleasant things, but 6 is also cautious and fearful. Altogether, it makes for probably the most pleasant (for other people) tritype to be around, because of the universally forgiving, generous, and sweet disposition – but to put it bluntly, we can be too nice, too forgiving, and too willing to help. How you start to unpack your type is by starting with the fixes. For you, 6 and 2 are lower, which means you can learn to consider them “optional.” In other words, it’ll be easy for you to notice 6 projections and anxieties and talk yourself out of them. For 2, you can ask yourself whether it’s really your place or duty to “help” this person, or if they can do it for themselves. 2 fixers can learn to let people be independent and take care of themselves, rather than rushing to do it for them. You can also work through the uncomfortably self-exposing 2 questions of “am I doing this just so they will like me?” Or “Am I angry at them because they don’t ‘do unto me’ the way I do unto them? Because I expect some payback in kind for my efforts?” I realized I was 2 fixed the day I was mad at my best friend for not being supportive of me in the way I needed, but also realized I had never specifically told her what I wanted her to do, I had just been “doing” that for her, hoping she would pay me back in kind. And then I 2w1ishly beat myself up about it. (You shouldn’t WANT or NEED things from your friends! You SHOULD be selfless and loving with no return!) Meh.

Regarding people-pleasing, you should seize your autonomy and realize that for most things, it is optional and you can say no without causing too much strife. I still want to people-please some, but over time people start taking advantage of you and that causes resentment in being used, and at some point, you start getting sick of it and start laying down more boundaries. I had one friend who would always appeal to me to spend time with her, even though I was busy and had other projects going – and I would guilt-trip myself into saying yes out of a 2ish self-talk (she needs you, she’s lonely, she has no other friends who live here, you can take time off to be with her) … but I realized over time (and over the pandemic) that… she has actually managed to survive without me, she has gone weeks at a time without seeing me and not curled up and died of neglect, she can wait to see me until I am my best self, not a tired version of myself who has dragged myself to see her out of guilt rather than a desire to connect. Before I started telling this person, “I can’t, I’m busy this week” she knew she could lean on me, be a little whiny about feeling lonely, and I would squeeze her in – now she knows when I say I am busy, she has to wait. And that’s good for us both.

People deserve your best self, not your guilt-tripped self – and don’t let them whine or plead or infer or guilt-trip you into things you don’t want to do. Say no and mean it. That’s the best advice for this trype or any type with 9 as a central focus – stand firm, set out a boundary, and defend it. If you are busy, say you are busy. Don’t give excuses, or over-explain, just say you cannot do it. If people push you, reaffirm “I’m sorry, I know, but I can’t.” Sooner or later, they quit because they know they can’t bully you into doing something for them.

Whatever your core is, is going to be the hardest thing to get under control. If it is 2, it’s going to be image-seeking, attention-grabbing, and invasive ‘helping’ whether that is to do physical things for people or offer unsolicited advice to help them cure their life problems. If it is 9, it is going to be numbing yourself out to conflict, refusing to assert your own wants and needs, and letting things go when you should address them (getting in touch with your anger). If it’s 6, it’s going to be over-thinking, being fearful-avoidant of attachments and sending people mixed signals, and projecting (”I’m anxious about not being wanted, so I KNOW they are going to reject me and are sending me negative signals!”). I fight the latter all the time and it’s HARD, so I won’t pretend getting over your core is a picnic, and anyone who says they have “aced it” and are now “a healthy version of their type” is either mistyped or a liar. We’re all wallowing in ourselves.

It’s funny, I can sense when someone else or even a fictional character has this tritype, because I see a lot of myself in them – not in a Fi way, but in a tritype way. They say you understand best people who share your struggles and what you want to be per your tritype’s focus and needs and it’s true. I can sniff out a 269 anywhere.