#anyway- not fully happy with it but its late and my thumb hurts and i needed to get this picture out of my head so

[ganondoodle]

possession.

(Radahn, Elden Ring)

[writers-block246]

Can you write a Kyoya ootori x fem! Reader smut where Kyoya has a knife kink ? Thanks!

Authors Note: Omg I am so sorry I haven’t uploaded in a hot second. Senioritis has been kicking in lately lol. But yes I can write this, (especially with how hot that is omlll 😳) but yeah anyway, TW: knife kink, degrading

You woke up to the slam of your front door, causing your body to jolt upright. Looking around the room, you see the silhouette of your boyfriend. You shuffle with the blanket in your lap as you yawn.

“Hey, baby,” your voice still scratchy from your prolonged nap, “how was school today?”

You can feel the anger radiate off of him as he grumbled to himself, trying to loosen his tie. It has been a rough week for Kyoya. Though, you didn’t know what was going on, you had a feeling it wasn’t anything he normally handles at school. He didn’t answer, so you didn’t push the issue. When he finally got his tie undone, he glanced at you before heading towards the stairs.

“Upstairs. Now. I don’t wait.”

And with that, his footsteps echoed upstairs and you hear the door shut. You knew exactly what that meant: he was going to have his way with you tonight, whether you liked it or not. And you were gonna like it.

You made your way upstairs as you prepared yourself for what Kyoya was going to do to you. He had always been stern, but secretly soft. But there were some times where you didn’t know if you could even stand up, let alone walk. You had a feeling it was going to be one of these nights.

Normally for a night like this, you would make sure that you have on something strappy, black, and little. However, after a long day at home, you feel the need to at least change into a matching set. Kyoya has made it clear there’s not even time for that though so you stick with your floral Victoria Secret thong and no bra.

The door creaks open as your right foot peaks in, your whole body enters the door.

“Kyoya?”

You suddenly felt yourself push against the door, closing it. As your head tilts up, your eyes come into contact with Kyoya, his left arm was leaning against the door. Your faces just inches apart. Your breathing hitched as your eyes darted to the sharp knife in his hand. The sleek black design along the ridges on the blade caught your attention first. It was easily meant for tearing the flesh.

He gave you a smile before slowly putting the blade against your throat.

“You see, there’s been some rumors flying around that we have a little thing, and the club is not happy with me,” he pauses before moving the tip of the knife to your chin, tilting your head up slowly.

He smirked.

“We can’t have that, can we?”

You subtly shake your head, careful to not slit any skin.

“That’s what I thought,” the blade moves back to your throat, “so tonight, you’re gonna be a good girl for me or this knife is going to slit across your throat. Do I make myself clear?”

His breath was hot against your skin. A blush  rises on your cheeks and you swear you feel the hot flashes all over again. Who knew he could be this... demanding yet so hot?

You barely managed to let out a “Yes, sir,” before he pounced on you. His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, his hand firmly gripped on the knife against your throat. His other hand playing with the waistband of your pants. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip in hopes to gain entrance, which you gave him. Your hands made their way under his pants, and grabbed his cock, hardening at your touch. He roughly pulled away from the kiss before he started on your neck, giving you a chance to prep. You spit into your hand and work your magic. His grunts of pleasure only motivated you to double your efforts. You gasped as you felt a nip at your neck before Kyoya’s saliva quickly soothed the pain. He repeated the motion a couple of times before he suddenly pulled away.

You felt the blade push slightly against your throat.

“Now, get on your knees like the good little slut you are.”

You did as he said and started to pull his dress pants and boxers down, his fully-hard cock sprung free. You blushed slightly. You never got used to the fact he was so big. With that, you look into his eyes as you began placing kittenish licks up his shaft. His breathing halted and his left hand made its way into your hair, gripping softly. The knife resting at his side, as your tongue swirled around the tip, pretty little moans and grunts coming from his lips. It only encouraged you to break into a sweat, taking him into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down slowly. Your eyes meet with his lustful face. His head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open.  Deciding to use this moment to your advantage, you slowly stand up. Your hand carelessly, yet so gently pushes Kyoya against the bed, as you now straddle him. You lean to kiss him, not noticing the smirk that rested on his face. Suddenly, you felt yourself being flipped onto your back, and the knife clear in your view.

“Not so fast, pretty girl,” he chimed. “You know what happens when you don’t behave.”

At which point, you felt the blade push deeper into your throat, a quiet and breathy moan broke loose from your lips. His low chuckle was like music to your ears, your panties already soaked at the thought of what he was going to do to you. He seemed to pick up on this as he reached under the bed, pulling out a set of ropes. The mischievous look was etched on his face as he bounded your wrists against the bedpost. The anticipation was killing you. You wiggled your needy clit against your thighs, desperate for some and any kind of friction. The whimper that escaped your lips was suddenly cut off by a burning sensation lingering on your wrists.

“Too tight,” you muttered softly, looking up to the grin smeared across his face. His hands made their way to part your legs slightly, and his thumb nearing your inner thigh.

“I know,” his thumb slipped under your panties, landing on your clit as he began to run slow circles against it. His touch alone already made your stomach build up those familiar knots you have felt many times before. His quickened his movements, earning him a low moan. Your toes started to curl before the sudden loss of pleasure overtook you as Kyoya pulled his hand away.

He looked at his finger, visibly covered in your liquid.

“So wet for me already, aren’t you, love?”

You nodded quickly, anxiously waiting for him to continue. He smiled before bending down so his face lined up with your pussy.

“You want me to help you? Even after all this trouble you caused me today? Do you even think a bratty little bitch like you deserves it?”

His tongue licked a stripe up your pussy slowly, sending a shiver down your spine. The words “No, sir,” barely uttered out of your mouth before he repeated the action.

“That’s right. Now you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, understand?”

You hummed in response before his finger ran along your slit, and pushed inside of you, pumping in and out. His mouth and tongue quickly worked on your clit, swirling and sucking on the bud with such intensity, you don’t know if you could hold it in. Juices threatening to spill at any second, his other hand kept him steady on your thigh. Your whimpers and moans grew slightly louder before he was now hovering above you.

“I said keep quiet.”

You swear you almost saw the gleam in his eye before you whispered: “Make me.”

He did, in fact, as his left hand was now wrapped around your throat, and gave it a light squeeze. The newfound pressure forcing you to arch your back, making his erect cock graze against your core, almost as though he were teasing you. At this point, your patience was wearing thin, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You like that, you needy whore? You want my cock inside you? Tell me.”

You struggled to get your words out as the tip of his cock pressed against you, as he moved slightly up against your clit. You whimpered against his touch.

“P-please...”

“Please what, babygirl? Use your words.”

His cock now lined up to your entrance as he lightly squeezed your throat again, his other hand reaching for the blade inches away from you.

“F-Fuck me so hard I c-can’t walk, sir! P-Please!” You begged him, instantly fueling the fire inside of him. With that, his cock that was previously teasing your entrance a few moments ago plunged into you.

The breath was pushed out of your lungs from the force of his thrust. You couldn’t help but moan.

“Now, now, darling. I need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded shakily.

A rough thrust that hit your g-spot broke that promise. A loud shrill escaped your lips.

You didn’t even register him moving, as you were caught up in your pleasure, so when the knife was pressed to your throat you gave a sudden jolt.

“What did I say?” He questioned with a teasing  lilt to his voice. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he quickened the pace. He was close and you knew it. Deciding to use that to your advantage, your eyes rolled back into your head as another thrust to your g-spot caused you to let out a loud moan.

“I.. just can’t.. be quiet when you make me feel this good, daddy.”

His thrusts suddenly became faster, grunts and groans flying out of his mouth as each thrust hit your core. His grip tightened around the blade and pressed against your throat to suppress your moan.

“I-I’m close, Kyoya,” you panted.

“That’s what I was intending, babygirl,” he joked as you felt his cock twitch inside of you again.

As you both were near your orgasms, you sped up your motions, your moans escaping your lips was easy encouragement for Kyoya. He let out a low groan as you felt the hot rush of come fill you up, not long after your orgasm arrives, and your juices rush out and onto his shaft.

With that, he collapsed on top of you, and you held him close as you both tried to get your breathing in check. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in his ear before he looked up at you as if you were made of glass.

“You okay, love? Did I hurt you at all?”

You smiled softly. You loved the sweet side Kyoya has, though he barely showed it. Especially after how it contrasts to how rough and demanding he is.

Your legs slightly shaking as the aftershock settled in, you shook your head as a reply.

“Oh no, you did quite the opposite.”

-Admin Maddie

[gentlemancrow]

idk if you’re still taking requests so no pressure but maybe jmart 18 about jon’s scars? or,,, honestly however you wanna interpret that lol

Hehe bet you thought you weren't getting one. But of COURSE you're getting one! <3 HERE YOU GO!! Sorry it is late I am not a fast writer haha! This was a VERY interesting one to interpret and I got a little wonky and metaphysical there for a bit WHICH I LOVE and THE IDEA MIGHT HAVE BEEN A BIT LONG FOR A DRABBLE BUT! It's soft and I'm soft and I enjoyed this one SO SO MUCH ; w ; I hope you do too!!

Jon had Seen enough. Martin had decided that long ago. He had witnessed enough, been forced to witness enough, been the vessel into which literally everything had funneled into in an unrelenting typhoon of unspeakable, unfathomable horrific knowledge comprehensible only to him long enough that he damn well deserved the luxury of imperception. He had earned the right to not notice when Martin accidentally bought the wrong brand of chai, the one he insisted tasted like someone rubbed a stick of cinnamon on plasterboard and jammed it in a cardamom pod, but honestly tasted just like the one he preferred. The universe, whichever one they happened to be in now, owed him not realizing the buttons on his cardigan were one off until they were about to head out and Martin had to fix them, fingers humming with the warmth of him lingering in the cashmere every time. He deserved to forget his keys and then also have to go back to check that their flat door was locked twice, just to be sure. He deserved tossing cabbage in the trolley at the market, only to get home and realize it was a head of iceberg lettuce instead, and also he had completely forgotten the onion anyway so back he would have to go. Tiny and insignificant, patently human foibles that any normal person might tally up to a really rotten day overall and gripe about over a glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape he had won as gleaming, pyrrhic badges on the ruins of his humanity yanked back from the claws of the yawning, devouring dark matter of the cosmos and stitched painstakingly back together with love.

But mostly Jon deserved to not notice the way people looked at him.

He need not see the painted-on expressions of strangers that ran the gamut from quiet pity, to voyeuristic curiosity, to outright revulsion that Martin could not help but see everywhere they went. They had no idea. Not even the slightest inkling of what, exactly, had composed that magnum opus of horror and pain scarred resplendently on his flesh, his bones, his sinews and synapses. To even try know was to go mad, the mind looping through and around and between consciousness and logic and love and fear and philosophy and metacognition until it squeezed into an ouroboros black hole singularity of dense unknowing that collapsed in on itself and perished in cataclysm. They had merely gotten lucky that being extruded through the plumbings of creation seemed to straighten out their fibers enough to be woven back into the fabric of reality, but they were too kinked and snagged and gnarled to ever lay fully flat again. And that was why they stared.

The invasive beings of Jon and Martin had come to mutual terms with it long ago, but they also knew they would be forever incongruous with an innocent world, with a world where they did not belong and that collectively looked at them both like an ontological cancer, benign but festering and ugly. They would never know the thing that crouched behind the stars with pointed knees and elbows that even then, groped to find their new world in the lightless vast, and Jon deserved to not perceive any hints of that either. He deserved their quiet, their peace, their wordless human acceptance.

Jon deserved to be innocently chewing a periwinkle-painted thumbnail in front of the ice cream counter, just as he was that gossamer spring afternoon, turning woeful and forever mismatched brown and green eyes at his husband and asking if he should get mint chip or rum raisin before deciding, actually, could he have a sample of the salted caramel ribbon first? He pointed eagerly at the various frozen tubs behind the glass with his gnarled right hand, where the fingers never did quite open or close properly again, and missed in his wonderment at the veritable cornucopia of sweet delights available to him the mingled look of pity and horror on the cashier’s face as she doled out samples at his request. Martin lurked protectively behind, silent, sentinel, seeing it all, a hot brand of fury boring its way through his chest as he glared icy blue daggers at the clueless young woman, who only compounded her crimes by complimenting the permanent white forelock in his ginger curls as she took his order.

Martin snatched his double scoop of rocky road and pralines and cream out of her hand with a withering scowl and said nothing. Jon, frowning in the dread shadow of Martin’s hushed wrath and finally deciding on just the mint chip, took it upon himself to pay while the poor young woman skirted around both their gazes. They took their ice cream to enjoy in the balmy sun on the metal patio tables outside the shop under a cloud of unspoken insults and slander which Jon was more than happy to pop open the conversational umbrella beneath before the downpour.

“Something wrong?” he asked solicitously.

“Nope. I’m fine,” came the curt answer, suspiciously also lacking in eye contact as Martin stabbed his pink spoon into the rocky road.

Jon’s mismatched eyes narrowed shrewdly. There was one thing that never escaped his notice, even now, and that was the painfully obvious way Martin always broadcast his inner hurts and the physical language of his turmoil he had become fluent in over the years.

“Okay, yes you are probably fine. And I’m guessing it has nothing to do with you actually, because you’re angry and you rarely get angry on your own behalf, which means it’s probably something to do with me or some perceived slight. What happened in there? Did someone make a snide remark about my eccentric ice cream selection? The long skirt on a warm spring day? Oh, no, I’ve got it. It was probably the earrings, yes? I knew I should have gone with the feathers instead of hoops, matches the outfit much better.”

The corner of Martin’s mouth quirked up in a hapless, crooked smile as Jon coaxed a laugh out of him, and he looked up into his gaze adoringly to grant him unspoken conciliation.

“No, no not at all. Nothing like that. It’s nothing, love. It’s not a big deal. Just low blood sugar or something. Just eat your nasty mint chip or rum raisin or whatever that unholy concoction is,” Martin snorted, gesturing at his cup.

“Liar,” Jon crooned with loving reproachment, reaching out to thumb a little bit of rum raisin on the tip of Martin’s nose as punishment.

Even breathed with such unfettered, undying affection, Martin hated that word. He hated how transparent he still was to the man he loved, how much he still truly saw him, saw through him. At least all it took to compel him now was a little melted ice cream rubbed clean off his nose and a winsome smile with love-puddled green and brown eyes.

“Okay, okay… fine,” he admitted with a resigned smirk and a sigh, “I don’t like the way they look at you. Okay? That’s all.”

Jon’s brow knitted together curiously.

“Hmm? Who? What do you mean?” he asked.

“Everyone!” Martin finally effused in frustration, “Everywhere! They look at you like you’re… like you’re damaged goods! Like you’re some pitiful beaten animal on the street, or worse, like you’re some sort of- some sort of um…”

“…Monster?” supplied Jon, lips pursed and lids drooping.

“…I wasn’t going to say that,” Martin stammered.

“What other word is there?”

“Fine, they look at you like you’re a monster. They take one look at your face or your throat or your… your hand. And I can just see it on their faces. They look at you like you’re a monster, and I hate it. You don’t deserve that. You never did! They don’t even know you! They don’t know what happened to you…! And sorry, Jon, but I get angry about it because it’s not fair, and I can’t exactly go about lobbing right hooks into the faces of everyone who even looks at you cross-eyed, now can I? Much as I’d like to…"

Jon went quiet as he listened, dabbling first in the rum raisin, then indulging in a little mint chip chaser, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully as he nibbled on the plastic spoon.

“Is that what you see?”

The color rolled out from Martin’s freckled cheeks along with the very spirit from his eyes in a fog, his entire mien awash in pallor.

“What? How could you say that to me? I would NEVER think that about you, Jon! How could you ever think I would think that? I-I know I said some awful things in the past about your scars, but I-“

“No no! Martin, no! Of course not! I know you would never!” Jon cut in, reaching across the table to snatch his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, rubbing his knuckles and over his wedding ring, “You misunderstand! I was asking if that’s what you see in their eyes?”

Martin clung to Jon’s hand, heart palpitating and breath easing.

“Oh…” he blurted dumbly, flushing with lively hues of reds and golds once more, “I-? Of course I do, what else could it be?”

“I don’t see that. I don’t see that at all,” Jon answered simply, “It’s… hard to describe but, damaged goods, disgust, morbid curiosity, those are all… Hard things. They have sharp edges. And when people here look at me, I don’t feel anything hard or sharp, it feels… soft? It feels gentle.”

Shaking his head, Martin frowned.

“Gentle? How is openly gawking at someone’s scars in any way gentle?”

“It’s just a feeling I have. I suppose,” Jon mused, thumbing at his beard with his free hand as he constructed an analogy that would make sense in his mind, “Mmm… Think of it like this. Humans, life, we’re all very visually oriented creatures, right? We respond to visual cues in our environments that are universally understood. We wear these rings so that everyone knows we belong together, just the same as bright colors usually mean poison, or how specialized feathers, or horns, or dewlaps and the like let others know they’d be a good mate, or how some things look like eyes or like entirely different creatures to scare off predators, and so on.”

The creases in Martin’s forehead only deepened in confusion.

“Okay sure, but scars aren’t a natural adaptation? We don’t look at scars the same way we look at pretty eyes on a moth wing or something.”

“I know that, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jon reiterated tenderly, “What I’m saying is I’ve always felt like my scars are a visual cue, but one that says to others ‘treat me gently’, because clearly I haven’t been. And it’s… well it’s been quite nice. You were about to tear that poor girl’s head off, but didn’t you see how she not only gave me about six samples when the sign clearly said two per customer, but then she also gave me the rum raisin ‘by mistake’ and then conveniently forgot to charge for it?”

“Wh-did she?” Martin gasped in shock, rewinding the transaction to remember that indeed, Jon had only asked for mint chip, but there was clearly also a generous scoop of rum raisin in his cup, ”She did… No I… I guess I didn’t notice…”

Jon let Martin’s hand go to cup his cheek pointedly in his scarred palm, running his thumb over the soft curve of his cheek and the spray of his ruddy freckles comfortingly.

“You want to know what I think? I think what you perceive as disgust or aversion or even pity is just fear, like you had. Fear of pain, fear of disfigurement, of fallibility. People are always afraid of seeing what can become of their mortal bodies, but that has nothing to do with me, or being disgusted by me. People are, at their cores, good and gentle, Martin. I know they are, we both do. They see me, my cane, my limp, my hand, my gray hair, my face, and they don’t even ask, they just know, on some primal level, that life was not kind to me. And so in some tiny way, like free rum raisin, they almost always try to give something back to me.”

Jon had known. He had noticed. It had never escaped his perception as Martin had assumed. Jon had known all along, but it was only Martin who still saw daggers in the smiles of strangers while he had taken the last vestiges of his powers irrevocably branded on his body and soul and sowed something delicate and beautiful and blossoming in his new earth. Martin had made a weapon. Perhaps no less delicate and beautiful, but still cold and sharp and deadly. The razor white edge of the sun through frigid fog.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” Martin choked, his throat pinching shut with the threat of tears, “I-I had no idea…. I-I only thought…”

“It’s alright, please don’t cry, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. I understand. You only thought you were protecting me. I protected you for so long, when you were desperate to do the same for me, to save me, but had no power to do either. Now you’ve got your turn to do the protecting in earnest, and honestly, it’s a… can I- can I say hot? Can I say it’s a hot look on you? Or is that weird?” Jon asked, tips of his ears blushing coyly.

Martin managed a laugh as he sniffed back the tears and thumbed both sets of lashes dry under his spectacles.

“It’s a little weird for you, in particular, to say it, just because it’s you. But I’ll take it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Perhaps then, Martin thought as Jon leaned over their whimsical little metal table outside an ice cream parlor by a park with a striped canopy above them and birds singing and kissed his tears away and then kissed his lips into a smile, that sharp things needn’t always be weapons. Perhaps his sword was, in reality, a spade, or a hoe, something to tend and nurture the new and fragile happiness Jon had tilled. Gentle things deserved gentle protection, and he was still going to devote every iota of his being to protecting Jon until the end of their days. After all, as they finally got to enjoy their slightly melted ice cream, Jon still dribbled a bit of rum raisin down his beard and carried on none the wiser. Martin let him go on like that, blissfully unaware, talking about Polyphemus moths and the myth of the cyclops and something about someone going about as Nobody, until he finally reached out with a napkin to attentively wipe it away.

Other than a gracefully paced ‘oh, thank you dear,’ Jon never missed a beat.

[nbrook29]

Lmao I don’t know how this happened 😆

***

June 26th 2021, Saturday

When Sander wakes up, it’s to the early morning June sunlight hitting him straight in the face. There’s a vague smell of alcohol lingering in the air, and he groans pitifully when he remembers the amount of beer he drank last night; well, it wasn’t that much per se, but for his not-usually-drinking self it was a bit much, which would explain the sour taste in his mouth. He could be beating himself up for letting a little too much loose and messing up his rather strict rules, but it’s finally summertime and he was feeling so happy and free. Exams are done and over with, bigger gatherings are allowed again, and most importantly, the love of his life has just graduated high school and-

Wait. 

He blinks his eyes open, arm reaching to the other side of the bed expecting a warm body, but it’s met with cold sheets instead. 

Where did that love of his life go? 

Bones cracking when he sits up on the bed, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes like a little boy, looking around the room, a twinge of worry in his mind. Robbe was way more drunk than him yesterday, being a giggly, inebriated, lovely, messy mess that was barely standing when the party came to an end. Sander had to practically carry him to their cabin, with Robbe wrapped like a koala around his back, holding tight as he mumbled love declarations into Sander’s hair until he fell asleep, arm looped around his head and cheek resting on top of it. It was unbearably cute, but it was also a miracle Sander’s legs didn’t give out because as small as Robbe is, carrying his dead weight on his back is a challenge.

For a second, a dark scenario enters his mind, and he’s working himself up over Robbe maybe getting up at some point to throw up and being so drunk he choked in the bathroom (yes, he’s a tad dramatic), but then a scrap of paper lying on the makeshift bedside table that is his backpack catches his sight and relief washes over him. 

It’s clearly torned out from his sketchbook and he smiles before he even reaches for it.

Come and find me when you wake up x

Little hearts were added all around for good measure and then there’s another message below.

P.S. You’re so fucking hot xxxxx

Snorting, Sander thinks back to yesterday’s afternoon when he showed up to pick Robbe up with his dad’s car so they could meet everyone in Ostend. The way his jaw dropped wide open seeing his brand new look makes him feel very smug at the mere memory.

Right next to the note there’s that piece of confetti he put in Robbe’s long hair at the party, his boyfriend blushing so prettily when Sander told him he couldn’t find a flower as beautiful as him around so the confetti had to do for the time being. 

That’s Sander’s favorite activity: pulling a blush out of him with his sappy lines. Well, maybe after getting lost in their out of this world kisses. Or making love to him, slow and sweet or fast and dirty, Sander’s not picky.

5 minutes and he’s out the door after the quickest shower of his life, minty fresh and ready for a quest to find his other half. It’s still very early, the clock showing a few minutes past eight, and to be honest, Sander wonders how on earth is Robbe up and about already. He was fully preparing for a morning full of Robbe’s moans (not the good kind), cursing him for letting him drink so much and swearing on his life that he’ll never touch alcohol again.

The beach is almost empty, barely a few people lounging on the sand, and it takes him no time to spot longish brown curls flying with the force of the wind. Robbe looks lost to the world around him, sitting cross-legged and leaning back onto his arms, face turned to the sun to catch the early morning rays. A soft smile is dancing on his lips as he takes in the sight of the calm sea stretching till the horizon to the sound of whatever is playing in his headphones (probably Bowie because Robbe has a Master’s degree in his music now, courtesy of Sander Driesen) and he looks the most relaxed Sander has seen him in weeks. He looks beautiful.

And Sander is so so in love with him it hurts.

The boy must’ve sensed his presence because he turns around just when he’s a few meters away, his smile growing wide at the sight of him, squinting a little and wow, how does he look so good after a night like that? Sander wonders whether it’s his lovesick devotion that makes him see Robbe through a filter or if sleep did its job marvellously this time.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Robbe pulls at his jean jacket to sit him right next to himself and wastes no time before looping his arms around his neck, peppering his lips with good morning kisses.

“Hey, drunkie,” Sander teases once Robbe gets his fit, earning a half-hearted glare and a soft scoff.

“I was not that drunk.”

“You fell asleep on my head while I was carrying your butt to bed.”

“Well your head is very comfy,” Robbe states matter-of-factly, leaving no room for further discussion because he shuts up any snarky comment Sander may have had with another kiss. That’s a-okay with him, and he tangles his hand in Robbe’s gorgeous locks that he will worship till the day he dies, never missing an occasion to bury his fingers in the tangled strands. The other hand joins in the fun, tugging playfully at the earring he’s also a tiny bit too obsessed with and delighting in the high-pitched sound it pulls out of Robbe.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought you’d be dead to the world till at least noon.” Sander makes himself comfy in Robbe’s embrace, leaning against him and playing with Robbe’s long fingers that are resting on his stomach.

The boy huffs a quiet laugh, a warm puff of air tickling Sander’s neck. “I think it’s the sea breeze making me sober up quicker than normally,” he pauses, hand nudging lightly at Sander’s chin to make him lift his head back and meet his eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he continues. “That and also I think that I was less drunk on alcohol and more drunk on love.”

Sander may be the king of sappy lines, but Robbe has a few of his own up in his sleeve, and everytime he pulls one out, it makes him melt into a pile of goo. Sander crashes their lips together in a kiss that’s a little too heavy for a morning in a public space, but hey, they’re drunk on love and he doesn’t care, Robbe doesn’t care either, and there aren’t many people around them anyway so fuck it. He hums into the kiss, Robbe’s tongue grazing the roof of his mouth almost as by accident, and it’s so good, it always is.

“Last night, it felt so... life-changing, you know? And I don’t know why cause not that much is changing, really.”

“You’re graduating high school, it feels big.”

“Yeah, but I’m staying here for uni, I’m not moving or anything. I don’t know, I think I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic lately.” Robbe shrugs like he doesn’t really understand it, but doesn’t want to dwell on it either. There’s a small frown between his eyebrows though so Sander reaches to smooth it out with his thumb.

Then, something comes to his mind. “Maybe it’s because of us?”

Robbe’s frown gets deeper. “What do you mean?”

Sander turns around in his arms, nodding at the surroundings, voice laced with excitement. “You know this is the first time we have been at the beach since we met?”

Brown eyes blink at him in confusion, but then they light up and match Sander’s excitement.

“Oh my god, you’re right! Fuck, it feels like a different lifetime.”

A very miserable, shitty lifetime if you ask Sander. For both of them.

“I was so lonely back then,” Robbe sighs.

Sander notices a tiny shadow of sadness fogging Robbe’s eyes, like it always happens when he thinks back to that period of his life. Some wounds were cut too deep to fully heal, but Sander’s always there to bring him back to the present.

Tugging lightly on his hair to make him look back at him, Sander gives him a lopsided grin.

“Not gonna lie, I’m very pleased this time around the only person that’s allowed to kiss you is me.”

Robbe hums, a smirk brewing on his lips. “Hmm, I don’t know, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss from Jens I think.”

And Sander knows he’s doing it on purpose, absolutely loves to rile him up and play the “Jens” card when he wants to be snogged into submission. Robbe learned early on that even though Sander’s aware he’s just joking, his possessive streak always comes out in situations like this, making their kisses extra good and their sex extra hot.

“Careful now,” Sander breathes against his mouth, the pent up tension that accumulated last night and wasn’t relieved because Robbe was too drunk hitting him hard. It seems to be mutual because Robbe bites his lip seductively, impish smile letting Sander know that he’s getting the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna carry you to bed the way I did last night, but the finale will be a little different.”

Suddenly, Robbe’s smile turns softer, the gear change leaving Sander a bit confused, but he welcomes it with a chuckle when Robbe snuggles close to him, nuzzling into his neck and letting out a content sigh.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs sweetly against his skin, breaking and healing Sander’s heart all at once. 

“I love you too, cutie. In elk universum.” 

A giggle erupts from Robbe at the universe line. “It’s been a while since you said that.”

Sander presses a kiss to his temple. “I think I'm feeling a bit nostalgic too.” 

***

The beach is slowly starting to fill out with people and bursting their little bubble so they get up reluctantly to the sounds of their grumbling stomachs that demand late breakfast. They notice their friends in the distance, spreading a huge blanket on the sand and carrying armfulls of food, and they walk over to them slowly, smiling goofily at each other and swaying their joined hands, paying no mind to people around. 

“Hey, Sander?” Robbe says suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be dating a college boy now,” Robbe announces, and he sounds so proud and so adorable that Sander has to tease him a little.

He sighs, putting an extra edge of sorrow into it. “I think you’re getting too old for me, Robin.” A choked-off sound of pain follows, Robbe’s mellowy state not stopping him from jabbing his elbow in Sander’s ribs when he’s being a cheeky little shit. He should’ve known better by now - Robbe’s elbows are merciless. 

They arrive at the spot shoving each other playfully until Zoe yells at them to behave and sit their butts down like good boys to eat their food. They dig in without needing to be asked twice, their previous bickering forgotten as Robbe feeds him sandwiches, pretending they’re airplanes and making Sander and everyone around laugh hard.

This, today, yesterday, is a new memory. One that wipes away the angst he used to associate sea and beach with after enviously watching Robbe in the arms of someone else. 

This time, Robbe’s smiles are directed at him, his eyes are constantly seeking out him, hand slides surreptitiously into his hand, and Sander’s heart is bursting with happiness.

They’re going on a roadtrip this summer, just him and his favorite skater boy, and Sander cannot fucking wait. Just like he can’t wait for their future together.

And if there’s a ring sitting in his bottom drawer nobody needs to know for now. 

Robbe will find out in 55 days.

[vminity21]

hoax | jjk

Pairing: friend!Jeongguk x female!reader, friendship to lovers!au

Word Count: 2,854

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): angst involving unrequited love, foul language use, smut, oral (m receiving), grinding, smutty kissing, unprotected sex, may or may not have happened in a restaurant,  slight fem!dom Rated: 18+

Summary: the hoax was that you assumed it was unrequited love, but being approached by Jeongguk’s potential love interest proved otherwise, and the determination of confessing your feelings had never been so strong.

Credit to: @suhdays​ for the cover! I’m obsessed with it!

It’s crazy to think that just a certain way someone looks at you can spark a desire to dream about every and any scenario you can fester to make reality seem promising. Especially when it comes to a potential future with a suitor who’s gentle eyes meet yours now and again definitely trailing strings of hope in its wake. You imagine the way he would touch you in a dim, candlelit room where nervous breaths echo and wide eyes venture; you imagine the way he would tease you with silly banter if you could only muster enough bravery to sit next to him; you would envision moments of laughter even in the hours of the early morning before heading to work; you even ponder about how he would kiss you the very second you confess your love for him.

You wonder, you wonder, you wonder.

Palm clutching the metal doorknob from inside the bathroom, nerves tingle along your stomach when a fresh wave of nausea erupts. He is out there somewhere in the dining hall with his family as well as yours, and everyone assumes you are working late. Desperate to reveal what you have kept underneath for too long, your boss gave you the evening off, and here you are fully clothed in a glimmering dress, hair curled, and makeup dazzling your face. Mind drifting to all the events leading up to this moment has been what fueled your impulse of a decision.

When a friend of the past, LenLen, reached out to you last spring, you immediately took it considering it had been years since you had seen her including her four siblings: Maeve, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk. Unfortunately, your siblings, Monnie and Hoseok, happened to be busy that evening but you still went anyway, driving to what happens to be your favorite Italian restaurant. Seeing LenLen for the first time in four years was exciting, and you were happy to discover she had a boyfriend by the name of Kim Namjoon. His tall frame nearly overtowered LenLen and you were very appreciative of how social he was, and you found it quite adorable that they happened to meet on a popular dating app where many knew it to be for casual hookups.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the crew to show up, but you were amazed at how much everyone had grown- four years can make a world of difference, but you will never forget when your eyes landed on Jeongguk- your heart nearly leaped from your chest. Dark strands parted to showcase glimmering brown eyes and a thin lipped smile remained on his face nearly the entire evening. The attraction you felt was evident to you especially when everyone decided to continue the evening with mini golf. Anytime he was around you, it was like the feelings budded into a hope you weren’t sure how to control.

LenLen and Namjoon who you had carpooled with after dropping your car off at the apartment, decided to head home and LenLen’s siblings offered to drive you back to where you live. Jeongguk wouldn’t even drop you off where you claimed you would walk, parking in a handicap spot close enough to where the walk was easier to get to your door. He hadn’t gone with you but you were thankful he was kind enough to dismiss your original request. After a few days, you received a dm of a meme that he said made him think of you which ignited the excitement that he may be interested in you after all, but it was the most short lived four messages you had ever seen.

Moving on, nearly a year and a half passed when your roommate and best friend, Min Yoongi, decided to move into a new apartment ten minutes down the road, and your sister Monnie was preparing to move in to take Yoongi’s place. Maeve happens to be very fond of Monnie, and a month prior to the move, LenLen and Maeve invited you and Monnie to hangout at a Brewery not far down the road from your apartment. LenLen and Namjoon mentioned a guy named Seokjin who they were going to try setting you up with even though you already had a person in mind. When Monnie messaged you about the plans, you jokingly asked if Jeongguk was going to be there and at first he wasn’t, but when the day came, and he showed up at the table-

your hands went completely numb.

His presence was so overwhelming that you felt the need to consume enough alcohol to tipsy away the anxiety revolving around how shocked you were to see Jeongguk in all his glory sitting across from you. Taehyung took the seat to your left; Monnie had the biggest crush on Taehyung until Seokjin arrived and although the broad shoulders nearly caved you in, you knew Seokjin was your sister’s type and before you knew it, you caught Seokjin sneaking glimpses of Monnie every chance he got. And, after a few weeks, Seokjin and Monnie became the next couple aside from LenLen and Namjoon, cuddling at every bonfire.

As much as you hoped for Jeongguk’s attention, the most you scored was a teasing side eye while he planted his car keys into your hand where his fingers lingered a bit longer than you expected; also, the quick witted flirt of when you dropped your phone he offered to call it resulting in a deep blush flushing across your chest. Even admitting to him how he most definitely had muscles despite his insecurity of wanting his body to become more buff, and you may have spilled that he was attractive, because he is. The funny part is this all happened in front of Cadence- a girl Jeongguk had feelings for and the same girl who upset you enough that you are now hiding in the bathroom, trying to suppress the fuming anger boiling in your chest.

‘You think for one second he meant anything he said to you? I’m the one he wants and you know it.’

She was the first to see your arrival, and she immediately approached you with intense determination and resentment etched in her red lipped frown. She made it clear that she was aware of you and Jeongguk sharing a serious moment where you almost fully confessed, and he claimed how lucky any guy would be to have you. Your heart shattered for you knew he was stuck between a woman who couldn’t make up her mind and a woman that could. It was like he knew what the true answer was but he battled on not wanting to hurt anyone. When Cadence said what she said, you literally muttered, “What are we, in high school?” Offending the girl enough that you were able to stomp away, tears brimmed, yet you knew you couldn’t give up on Jeongguk just yet.

Bursting through the restroom door, the front of your gown clutched within both hands as you dash past the waiters and waitresses concentrating on balancing trays of food while the air reverberates with clinking glasses and scraping forks. The waft of savory meat and loaves of bread floods your nostrils, yet your eyes search the crowded tables for only one person. Frantically, you find his brother, Taehyung, fitted in a suit, chowing down on his dinner, “Hey, have you seen Guk?” You lean toward his ear trying to maintain your cool.

“Yeah, he’s over there,” Taehyung points toward his right where a few chairs away sat Jeongguk merrily conversing with his siblings though a sadness clouds his umber eyes. When you left earlier, he appeared visibly hurt that you couldn’t make it tonight, but here you are, rushing to him as if this would be the last time you would ever see him again.

“Guk!” You breathe, his wide eyes immediately turning to see you halting before him.

“Y/N? I thought-” He scoots his chair back to stand to his feet, overtowering you as his hair falls into his eyes. The sounds of the restaurant are loud enough to not make the scene unfolding as noticeable, but even if there was to be silence, you could care less.

“I worked it out with my boss, and I’m here now, and I don’t give two fucks what Cadence says-” you’re panting now as well as burning up with unwanted blushes.

“Cadence? She’s here?”

“Of course she is, when is she not with you?” Wetting his lips, his eyebrows furrow when he swallows slowly.

“I didn’t invite her.”

Shock is evident in your expression as the words died on your tongue, “You didn’t?”

“No, because it wasn’t her that I wanted to see tonight.”

When relief floods your limbs, you are hardly in a position to think straight for the man you’ve been hoping for all this time is finally seeing the light that has been shining this entire time: you. “Guk, I love you,” gasping, his lips collide with yours without any hesitation as his palms move to grip your waist. The tips of your thumbs find the corners of his lips while he kisses you slowly, taking in every moment that he never wants to lose any further for you are the missing puzzle piece that he has needed. He wants to show how sorry he is for letting you down prior to this moment; how blind he was to ever think he could let you walk away, and as stunning as you are, his heart pounds significantly.

“Awwww,” you hear Monnie coo as you giggle against his kiss. Jeongguk’s lips hardly leave yours before the pair of you find yourselves in a walkway where swinging doors meet at each end of the hall. Empty food carts are sporadic within the space and it’s so dim, your mind races with the feelings growing in all the right places. Moaning into his kiss when tongues meet, his arms latch underneath your ass before lifting you up to where your back hits the wall. Kisses growing so aggressive yet so passionate, you feel like you can’t catch a good breath and the last thing you ever want is to stop. Fingers tangling with the dark strands of his hair, your legs wrap tightly around his frame while you slide your teeth over his bottom lip, him hissing in response as he continues to bruise your mouth with the same hunger.

You are hoping not one individual happens to walk through here, and yet you don’t seem to mind this scandalous desperation of finally becoming one with the love of your life who happens to love you in return though it took a long time coming. Your dress has slid up to your thighs exposing your skin where you feel the material of his tuxedo and when the click of your heels meet the ground after a few more minutes of paradise, you feel his erection against your abdomen which arouses you to oblivion, and the sheet of your dress returns to sway against your shins.

Lost in the continuous motion of his kiss, you realize he plops into a chair that the back of his calves happened to discover. Breathless, you realize his attire has been disheveled while his hazy eyes sweep your figure, and with a lustful gaze you party a knowing smirk. Seductively you step forward to slowly swing each leg over his frame, set in a perfect straddle where your core grazes along his length. He hums pleasurably while you move your hips back and forth in a tease before pressing your lips to the corner of his jaw. Jeongguk struggles where to place his hands, sliding them along your back until he squeezes your thighs, letting you glide as much as you want while you pepper kisses on any visible skin you see.

Heat clenching, you can hardly take it anymore when you scramble to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his slacks, parting the slit in his underwear to reveal his being prompting your mouth to water at the sight. Jeongguk inhales sharply, you wanting to get down to business, sliding backward off his lap until your ajar mouth tickles along his shaft to build anticipation. “You don’t have to-”

“Shut up,” you take charge, fingers accepting his length carefully while the tip of your tongue dances from the base of his being to the tip in an agonizing pace. He places his hands within the curls of your hair, tightening his grip as he groans in ecstasy. Swirling your tongue along his tip, spreading his precum on his surface, you dip, sucking up and down- the feeling so satisfying, he can’t take his eyes off you. “Fuck,” his raspy voice sounds, “you feel so good.”

His words ignite the motivation to keep going, sashaying your tongue along his girth while you continue the bliss, but you didn’t want him to finish too soon. Releasing, you stand to bundle your dress up to expose a coral thong, shedding it down your legs prompting Guk to raise his hands in surrender. “Are you gonna at least let me pleasure-” Leaning forward with the sexiest menacing look you can muster, you fold your palm over the chair, inching as close to his face as you can to where your mouth barely brushes his panting lips. His words stop, eyes enlarging at the way you take the lead so effortlessly.

“I said shut. Up.” Deep down, you are willing to admit that you are truly showing Jeongguk what he will be missing if he ever decides to change his mind, and with the truth appearing at bay, there is nothing that you could ever do that will ever scare him away. He wants to make you feel good too. He wants to be with you. Reaching for his length, you position it beneath your core, letting the sloppy sound of your wetness cover his tip before taking him all in.

“Ooooh my-“ He grits his teeth trying to control himself and when you nod your permission, he begins his thrusting, your hands tangled in his hair while you moan against his ear. The way he moves sends you over the edge in the most erotic way, and with each stroke, he hits your g-spot, the strong feeling growing so intensely, you can feel the brink of a climax. “Keep going!” You gasp, “Keep going, Jeongguk, keep- ah!” Your toes curl against your heels as your thighs tighten, your high coming to its completion, as an orgasm overtakes your senses. Jeongguk spills within in you, arms wrapping around you tightly while he presses his mouth into your shoulder. Hugging him back, you have forgotten the existence of time, and how long you two hold each other, you are unsure.

“I’m so sorry that I-”

“Don’t.” You stop his whisper, eyes closed while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, taking in the crisp scent of his cologne. “I’m just glad you’re with me now.”

He tips his head enough to where you turn to face him, a seriousness overcomes his expression, his stare flitting to make contact with your own, “I love you, too.” Hearing the words become so real to the point that you almost want to cry tears of joy, but that doesn’t get to happen.

“Uh-” A male voice echoes, scrambling to your feet in pure terror, while the scrape of a turning chair holds Jeongguk fumbling to return his area back into his pants. Jimin stands frozen in place while you struggle to form any phrase.

“It’s not- it’s not what you think!” You squeak, your skin burning from embarrassment. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jimin’s ajar lips and wide eyes, look down at your crumpled thong that still rests proudly upon the floor. Shit, you shudder, and Jimin’s stiffened frame, shifts to exit the hallway, Jeongguk stifling laughter while you twirl to face him. Unbeknownst to you, Guk had reached to retrieve the damp garment, shaking his head. “You’re laughing? Your brother just caught us having sex in a restaurant!”

“An isolated part of a restaurant. And, I promise you he didn’t see too much of anything, I think he will be fine,” Guk chuckles, standing to his feet while you stare at him in calm disbelief.

“If this gets back to Monnie, I will never hear the end of it.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” you reply, relaxing into his embrace.

“Good. Because I plan to be around every time she brings it up.” Tilting your chin, he kisses you once again. “And,” he pulls away swiftly, raising your thong to your peripheral vision, “I want plenty reasons to have to return these to where they rightfully belong.”

And just like that, your dreams come true, staring up at his wide smile that scrunches his nose, and the way he looks at you returning the same joy- the hoax of unrequited love almost made you give up, and Jeongguk is determined to never let you slip away ever again.

[lutbys]

BUTTERFLY CLIPS

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: Ron’s reaction to you wearing butterfly clips

“Do you reckon Fred will notice the change in my hair?” Hermione brushed through them with her fingers for the tenth time since the trip back to Hogwarts til now where they were both headed for the entrance of the Great Hall, passing by a myriad of first years trembling in their feet. It was less frizzy than it was last semester and her long locks framed her face perfectly, making the girl look more extravagant than she already is.

“Hermione I’m sure he’ll love it- “

“What the bloody hell is in your hair y/n?” Ron yelled from his seat at the Gryffindor table, catching more attention towards the shy girl than he intended to. His mouth went agape as he stared at the top of your head that held butterfly clips that secured the mess you call a fringe, each butterfly sporting your house color. You felt insecure and started patting the top of your head lightly, feeling for any rogue strands of hair that fell out of its position but by the looks of Hermione’s face, that wasn’t the problem Ron was so shocked about.

“Don’t be daft Ron! They’re just butterfly clips” Rolling your eyes, you and Hermione both settled down on the benches opposite of him where he sat beside an unbothered Harry who had his nose deep into his Defense of Dark Arts textbook.

“Oh, they’re butterflies alright! It looks like a nest up there”

“You and I both know it looks nothing like a butterfly nest you idiot” It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes, mentally wishing she had picked a smarter group of friends.

He stared at the clips for longer, completely disregarding his food to observe the plastic accessory. “Where did you even get them from anyway? I doubt Hogsmeade carries this.”

“My aunt got some for me for Christmas and I quite liked it, so I decided to get more in different colors.” You fiddled with your food, the uncomfortable gaze Ron had towards you -or should I say head- made you feel small.

“Ron stop staring and finish eating. I’m not going to tolerate you anymore if you get hungry in the middle of the night.” Hermione scolded, kicking him in the shin as an extra warning.

-

“Do you have to wash them?”

It was late in the night and the four of you took over the common room to finish your assignment because according to Hermione, ‘the earlier, the easier!’.

The four of you had the same essay out- the one Snape assigned last minute in between the many other assignments you had due which did not get a good response from his students-  with Harry and Hermione fully concentrated on their own papers and Ron having been procrastinating ever since they’ve sat down, finding any sort of excuse to not pick up his quill.

“Ron, stop it! You know what fine, I won’t wear them anymore, happy?” you sulked in your seat, refusing to meet his eye knowing yourself well enough to know that tears were going to well in your eyes any second now.

“Wait, no! Don’t.” this caught them all off guard as they gawked at the flustered ginger boy in confusion. “I quite like it” your cheeks started to heat.

“Would you look at that, Ron is fond with the butterbeer clip” Harry said smugly, smirking at his best friend, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Butterfly!”

-

“Does it hurt?” you rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze from the fireplace to the boy sitting a cushion away from you.

“What do you mean Ronald?” you sighed, watching him avert his gaze from object to object trying to mentally form a coherent sentence. It was cute to see him so flustered as he ringed his fingers together with the glow of the fire that illuminated the dark common room covering his blush ever so smoothly.

��Like doesn’t it hurt because the clip is gripping onto your scalp?” he asked nervously as you giggled at the comment, “I dunno how clips work, I don’t wear them yaknow?” he defended.

“You wanna try it?” his eyes glimmered from curiosity to fear as he watched you jump towards him and grabbing hold before taking out the clips from your hair and transferring them to his.

“y/n what are you doing!” he giggled from your touch, your hands fiddling with his hair and clipping them back as neat as possible. His hands found their way to your waist to stable you and it was only then you realized how you were both positioned; your legs were straddling him with his front is flush against yours, your heartbeats in sync. Your breath hitched as his hands squeezed your waist, his thumbs lightly stroking over the fabric of your uniform.

It was overwhelming to see him in this light, with the crackling fire highlighting his features, the orange glow bringing out the color in his eyes. He was irresistible. Your eyes flickered down to his lips; pink and slightly chapped. As if on cue, he licked them, causing them to glisten in anticipation. You looked back into his eyes to see he was already looking at you, his eyes a shade darker than a second ago. He brought his right hand up, leaving a ghost on your waist as he reached up between both of your bodies and finally stopping at your face, caressing your cheeks then, letting his thumb brush against your bottom lip, leaving the skin he once touched tingly.

You hovered your lips near his, so close that your bottom lip was merely connected with his and your breaths mingled. The hesitation that coursed through your veins were long gone as you connected your lips with his, smiling internally as he catches on. They both melded together like solder, your bodies enveloping into one as your lips moved in a rhythm that felt just right.

And it felt just right for the rest of the night, 

a/n: I have to admit, I did edit this when I was half asleep and in the middle of a class so.... lets be nice. Tenk u. Luv u <3.

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #14

Prompts:

8. Bleed

4. Comfort Hug

(Howl’s Moving Castle AU) Howl! Dire Crowley x Reader

Summery: Crowley is a dumbass and can’t comfort to save his life. Trein is done with him.

TW: Blood; Injuries

Word Count: 844

A note from Fel: You can really fucking tell when I’m queuing these things up half asleep because I miss putting stuff in there *stares at Toddler!Sebek fic and God AU Rook* Like- look- I know I can edit it, but I have to live with the shame now ok??? It’s too late, too many of y’all have seen it. It’s immortalized now jsdlkjfd. Anyway! Enjoy! 

Blood dripped onto the wooden floors, soft plop, plop, plops- following after tired footsteps. Crowley sighed, his wings aching and his clawed hands aching even more as he made his way to your shared bedroom. He almost missed your hunched over form, your arms acting as pillows for your head as you slept against the warm glow of Trein’s flames. He smiled, missing the unnecessary cockiness and overconfidence it usually held, running the tips of his talons through your hair. You sighed, snuggling deeper into your arms.

“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself so much, you know.” 

Crowley glanced at the red flame. The smile on his face turning into an offended frown as he leans up, shifting fully into his human form despite how the feathers fell from his skin burned with something dangerous. “You don’t think I’m skilled enough to handle myself, Trein?”

“It’s not a matter of skill- no wizard, even you, can escape a curse like this by themself.”

“Oh, boo,” Crowley sticks out his tongue at him. “You’re no fun.”

Trein sighs, a smaller flame budding next to him and letting out a soft mew. “You should also be worrying about what you’d leave behind if we died, you fool.”

The man winces. He knew- he knew perfectly well what he’d leave behind. His gaze slipped down to your peaceful face, the emptiness in his chest growing colder at the thought of your crying face-

“Crowley?” Your groggily voice caught his attention and if he had tail feathers they’d be waggling in excitement.

“My darling! You’re awake! Let us go to the room and-”

You blink away the sleepiness, before you realize the red dripping from the gashes littering his body. “Crowley!” 

He tilts his head. “Yes?”

“Don’t yes me! Oh- Trein! I told you to wake me up when he came back!” You rush through the castle.

Crowley watches you run around like a headless chicken, practically glowing as you urge him to take a seat, taking off his mask, and gently wiping at his face with a warm, wet rag. He lets out happy chirps at you and Trein lets out an exasperated sigh. “(Y/N), Darling, before you become too engrossed in treating that mess of a man would you give Lucius and I more firewood?”

“Of course,” you say, Crowley whines at the lack of contact, holding the hand of the arm that isn’t stretching itself to grab logs for Trein to use. After you were done, you went back to tending to your husband, the man cooing happily. 

Crowley chattered as you cleaned his wounds and you bobbed your head at his words, adding little words to encourage him to keep his one sided conversation up. He’d lean over on occasion and rub his head against your cheek. 

When you had gotten to the gash on his side, you winced. It’ll need stitches… You realized and you can’t keep the tears from dripping down your cheeks.

“-And then I so graciously flew down-” 

“Crowley.” He hears Trein hiss at him in a low voice. 

“Hm?” He finally opens his eyes to look at Trein but then he sees the wet trails on your cheeks. “Oh… oh, my darling- what wrong?” He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, minding his metal claws.

“I… Please…” you whispered, leaning against his palm. “Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore, Crowley.”

He hopped a bit in his seat. His mouth opened and closed, fishing for words that he couldn’t find. He looked to Trein and Lucius. The bigger flame seemed to roll its eyes before mouthing: ‘comfort them.’

He nodded, suddenly pulling you into a tight hug. His bottom lip trembles at the way you shudder in his hold, a wet spot forming in his vest where your tears soak into the satin. “My Darling, there is nothing to fear! For I am a gracious and strong wizard! One of the best! There is no way that I will be hurt to the point of death-”

A wail leaves you and he frantically looks at Trein: ‘I don’t know what I did wrong?’

The flame shakes it’s makeshift fist at him. ‘You’re a damn idiot!’

His eyebrows furrow and he bares his fangs at him. He jumps again when you pull away, your fists curling into his vest so tightly that they begin to shake. “Crowley.” Your voice is even and the man gulps, leaning against the back of the chair. “Crowley, you- you aren’t allowed to die, do you understand me?”

His features soften from nervous to something almost mournful as he takes you in his arms again and squeezes you against his chest. 

He glanced at the two fires who stared back at him with an understanding he could only hold with them.

Maybe… Maybe he could keep that promise one day. When you saved them.

For now, though, he was content to just rock you back and forth in his hold as he begins to chatter aimlessly, preening when he finally coaxes a genuine laugh out of you.

<The Next Chosen Character>

[alby-rei]

Paint My World in Shades of You (Vincent x MC)

a/n: Happy birthday Vincent <3 

[Characters]: MC, Vincent, Theo

[Genre]: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[Warning]: None

{Paint my World in Shades of You}

I was sitting in Vincent’s room on his couch while he painted. His eyes were trained on the beautiful arrangement of flowers that rested against the window.

My eyes were trained on him; I was obsessed with his side profile. I loved the way his eyes shone with concentration, and his jaw relaxed and tensed as he worked. Suddenly, his serious expression lit up in laughter.

“When you look at me like that, I can’t help but lose focus.”

“Ah—I’m so sorry! I just—” My face heated up considerably, I must be a roasted tomato by now, “I really like watching you paint. It fascinates me so much how you create such wonderful paintings, and I was… taking mental notes of your technique,” and your face, and your arms, and your fingers, and-

“Have you painted, too, in your time?”

“Mmhm,” I nodded with enthusiasm, “though I’m still very much a beginner. I enjoy painting with a friend more than I do when I’m alone.”

“Oh?” Vincent set his palette down and faced me fully, “I can get you a canvas if you want to paint with me.”

“Right now?? I mean I’ve never worked with oil paints before… just acrylic and watercolor.”

Vincent rummaged through his supplies behind his desk, taking out a case full of paint tubes.

“I’ve got watercolors right here,” he shot me an excited smile, and my heart fluttered. How was I so lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend?

I wasn’t used to painting on large canvases— though it was still small compared to his— so I felt pretty intimidated just staring at the blank white abyss in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know where to start,” I looked back at him sheepishly.

I waved my paint-less brush on the canvas, shifting my gaze between the flower bouquet and the canvas to make a mental sketch. I caught sight of Vincent’s work in progress, and I had an idea.

“Hey Vincent, do you mind if I… copy you?”

“Hm?” He quirked his head to the side. 

“I want to learn how to paint like you, that’s how I’ve always learned actually— by watching others.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered uncharacteristically. His gaze softened, as a small blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked back at his own unfinished work.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement. 

Vincent didn’t have an extra easel, so he suggested I use his. But I insisted that I can work without one. I brought a stool and dragged it close to his and started watching his every move.

“So first, I mixed these colors…” he stretched his arm out to display his color palette. It was a beautiful mess of oil paints, with a large white spot in one corner.

Time flew as we enjoyed the moment in each other’s company doing what we both love. 

“I’m not sure how to make this shade…” I pouted, staring at my messy palette.  

“The trick is to get a bit of ochre yellow in the mix, and then…”            

We talked on and on as we painted together. I tried to keep my focus on the bouquet, but I always ended up leaning over to see Vincent’s own painting.

“Your painting should capture how you­ see the world, MC.”

“I know… but I can’t get it to stand out the same way yours does,” I confessed. 

Vincent’s soft laughter eased my anxiety. I mixed some colors together blindly to try to create the right shade I’m looking for.

“Hey! That’s a great shade of purple you got. How did you make it?” He asked me with child-like curiosity and excitement.

I told him honestly that I didn’t know how, and we sat and experimented together. In a way, it gave me a confidence boost to see him try so hard to replicate the shade that I accidentally made. 

Clearly, I had lost track of time because the sun was gone, and the lamp in Vincent’s room was the only source of light left. I didn’t even notice the change, so when I looked up from my work, I had to rub my eyes to adjust.

“Oh boy, I didn’t realize I was so focused. I think I got a small headache…” I brought a hand up to apply pressure on my forehead.

“Are you ok, MC?” Instantly, Vincent was by my side, one hand caressing my arm as I sat on his couch to regain my bearings.

It took a second, but the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath and looked up, smiling to reassure Vincent. Worry was written all over his face, bordering guilt.

“Don’t look so down, Vinnie~ It’s nothing serious,” I giggled, scratching the back of my head.

I looked between my canvas and his. I was really proud of how it turned out! His painting definitely had better defined lines and clearer contrasts in all the right places. Mine was less impressive in my eyes, but still a full image of the bouquet, no less.

“What do you think of my painting?” I nodded towards my canvas.

“It’s beautiful just like its artist,” he brought my paint-stained hand up to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

“Oh you…!” I punched him jokingly with my free hand.

“Mm… I meant it,” he laughed along, shielding his arm from further assault, “I’m a lucky man to be able to share my passion with my sweetheart.”

“Vincent, you’re too sweet.” I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my tomato-red face in his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me, too, and we sat there in comfortable silence. The smell of oil paints and flowers wafted in the air around us, as his arms squeezed me securely. It was like we were left in our own bubble and time itself had stopped for us to enjoy this moment. I pulled away eventually, needing to wash my hands and help Sebastian with dinner. Looking outside again, I realized I was already late… woops.

“I have to go prepare dinner with Sebas soon, so I’ll see you later?”

I reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head and captured my lips with his. How am I supposed to say goodbye like this? The thought of leaving this room, this bubble of ours, felt like I was leaving a paradise behind.

“Don’t go just yet…” He pleaded with his eyes shimmering under the glow of the lone lamp.

“How about this: I’ll go wash my hands, then come back to clean up with you. Then, we’ll walk together to the kitchen, deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.”

I went to the guest bathroom room across the hallway. Paint was a lot harder to wash off than I thought. I scrubbed at it with soap, making sure not to damage my skin in the process.

It took a solid while, so I hurriedly dried my hands and made my way back to Vincent’s room. I was standing outside when I heard—

“…and what do we have here?” A chuckle, “Were you teaching a kid how to paint?” It was Theo.

Theo and I… didn’t get along. Maybe our humor just didn’t align, maybe he didn’t appreciate walking in on us that one time when he… shouldn’t have. And maybe I was too sensitive for his bluntness. But we made an unspoken truce to avoid conflict with each other for Vincent’s sake. At least, I thought we did. 

Before Vincent got a chance to speak, Theo was already inspecting the foreign painting in art-dealer mode. 

“Hmm… the colors are dull, and the strokes are uneven. If they thought they could imitate you, they’ve clearly got a long way to go,” he scoffed.

“Theo, that’s not—”

“And who asked you, huh?” I couldn’t stand aside and let him talk about me or my painting like that. It meant a lot to me; it embodied my precious time with Vincent.

“So the pup wanted to paint, eh? I guess I shouldn’t have expected much, then.”

I was about to give him an earful, but Vincent stepped in.

“That’s enough, Theo! MC and I painted this together. So, if you think it looks like a child’s work, then you’re saying that about me, too.”

“What…? No! I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, choosing to stare at the wall instead. He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry I said those things, hondje. I didn’t mean to upset you.”      

Well, that was fast. At least he’s being civil about it.

“I-it’s fine… I’m just an amateur anyway,” I hugged my arms, looking away as I tried to calm myself. I was shaking, whether it was from anger or embarrasment, I didn’t know.

The silence was killing me, so I made to start tidying up my station. I blinked away the oncoming tears—I had nothing to cry about! I enjoyed painting with my boyfriend, and Theo apologized.

So, I kept blinking. Discretely.

Or at least as discretely as I thought I was.

Theo dropped the supplies he brought in for Vincent, talked to him for a bit, and left. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. 

“MC…”

Vincent’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I sensed the guilt rising in his voice, so I rushed back to hug him in reassurance.

“…don’t worry, Vinnie,” I nuzzled my head into his chest, not realizing my tears had spilled onto his apron, “it’s not like I’m a professional artist anyway, he was just stating his opinion.”

His strong arms wrapped around me firmly, rocking me back and forth as he spoke.

“You are an artist just like me, with your own unique view. That, in itself, is a valuable treasure that no one can take from you,” he pulled away to stare into my tear-streaked eyes with his own saddened cerulean eyes.

Then he smiled gently, soothingly, “Art isn’t about perfection, it’s about self-expression… about sharing your world on a canvas. Today, you shared a piece of your world on my canvas, and it is my greatest honor.”

I was speechless, I couldn’t find the words to express the pride, the elation, the utter admiration I had for Vincent and his ability to always say the right things to cheer me up.

“…Thank you, Vincent. I-I really appreciate it,” I smiled brightly up to him, and my tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

He brought his right hand up to wipe away the tears, using his thumb to caress the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough before they spilled silently down my face. I wasn’t mad, or sad even. I was just really extremely happy. It’s hard for me to explain though, and Vincent held my face in his strong hands and kissed every tear as they fell.

“We should do this again,” he declared, his hold on me never faltering, “I want to display your paintings all over my room until every part of it is immersed in the world you create.”

[megalony]

I’ll get him back

I’ve had a bit of writers block lately but I’ve finally managed to get another murderer! Ben Hardy imagine done and I’m very happy with this one, there will be a second part soon.

I hope you all like it, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg  @tabsispage @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Ben have just had their first baby, but social services get involved when they find out Ben is involved in a murder investigation.

Enjoy.

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A tired but heart-warming smile formed on (Y/n)'s lips as she stared tiredly down at the newborn resting in the crook of her arm. She knew that she was never going to get used to the feeling of having her baby boy resting in her arms like this.

She liked the feeling when she trailed her fingertip gently over the side of his face that felt so smooth and fuzzy like she was delicately touching the skin of a peach. There was just something so intimate and delicate about brushing his cheek or rubbing her thumb over the back of his miniscule hand. (Y/n) was sure that when she did that, he knew who she was. Even though he was only a day old, he knew she was his mum.

(Y/n) held him that little bit closer to her chest, trying not to move him too much since he was asleep and settled in the crook of her elbow, but she wanted to feel him as close to her chest as she could.

Touching the back of his head was something (Y/n) had been afraid of from the moment she had gone into labour. She knew that his head was the most delicate part of him since the bones of his skull weren't fully fused together yet. When she grazed her fingers over the back of his head for the first time, feeling that bump and the soft squishy skin made her stomach churn because she didn't want to hurt him. (Y/n) also knew that the rest of his skin was delicate because it was still forming its layers and when she was allowed to give him a bath she would have to be very careful and not use soap so the layer of skin could still form and grow.

She hadn't been able to give him a bath yet, (Y/n) hadn't been able to do very much with her newborn at all. He was only one day old and so far this was the longest that she had held him for. The midwives had taken him the moment he was born to check him over and clean him up and weigh him, then (Y/n) had needed a blood transfusion. By the time she had started to feel better and not like she was swimming through different states of consciousness, her baby boy had already been changed and fed and settled for the night. It left (Y/n) to catch up on her own sleep and simply see her baby boy in the morning instead.

She wanted to catch up on the time she had lost with him last night, she wanted to feed him and change him and just hold him in her arms and feel close to the person she had waited almost nine months to finally meet.

"Does he look like a Billy to you?"

Ben's voice suddenly snapped (Y/n) out of the trance she had found herself locked in as she stared down at the baby in her arms. It was as if looking at her baby boy dulled down her other senses and blocked everything out that wasn't immediately to do or surrounding him, Ben included.

The new father looked at (Y/n) fondly, mesmerised by the way that she was practically entranced by their son to the point she seemed to forget that Ben was in the room with her. He perched himself down on the side of the bed next to (Y/n) and carefully encircled his arm around her frame, pulling her into his side as their eeys were both focused on the baby in her arms.

Through one way or another, it had been agreed that Ben could choose the name if they had a boy, and (Y/n) could choose the name if they had a girl. And Ben needed no time in deciding that their son looked like he would suit the name that Ben had been thinking of for quite some time now. Ben didn't believe that a baby could look like they suited a specific name or that once your baby was born you could go off their name because it didn't match. He liked the name, he had his heart set on that name and he was looking down at his baby boy now knowing that the name was fine for him.

But Ben also knew that (Y/n) would look at him and tell if he would suit being called Billy or if he should have a different name that fitted his features better. If she didn't think the name suited their boy then Ben would pick another name and then another until (Y/n) was happy.

"I think he does." (Y/n)'s response brought a smile to Ben's already beaming face and her own lips curved at the corners when she felt Ben pressing a kiss to the top of her head as if they were sealing the deal of their son's name.

(Y/n) leaned her head back on Ben's shoulder and her body back into his chest, relaxing her muscles the more she leaned into him as he took her weight for her. She let most of her muscles relax other than her arms that were supporting the new life in her arms and she slowly smoothed her fingers up and down Billy's sides to keep him in his sleep-induced state.

"I wanna see his eyes." Ben's words were quiet as not to disrupt the peace they had surrounding them but they were loud enough for (Y/n) to hear.

He wanted to see Billy's eyes and guess who's eyes he had and who he looked more like. He wanted to see his son's eyes and wonder if he knew who he was, if his son recognised him as his father or not. Ben hadn't gotten a good chance to see his son until now, he had only stolen a few glimpses here and there yesterday. Now he was looking at him, he wanted to see his eyes and stare into them, he wanted to see the wonder and curiosity and the hope that those new bright eyes would hold.

Ben was so used to seeing the light go out of people's eyes, he was used to being the reason those eyes cracked and died and being why the colours faded like his victims eyes were being flooded with water until there was no colours left.

Just once, Ben wanted to see the pure innocence in someone's eyes and know that he had created it. He wanted to know that not every part of himself was bad, if he could see the wonder in a brand new pair of eyes and not steal it away or cause them to crack and fade, then he would know that he didn't have a black heart after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why isn't he back yet, how long does it take to give him a bath?" (Y/n) pondered the question more to herself than to Ben but she still wanted an answer nonetheless.

A midwife had come and taken Billy over half an hour ago to give him a bath even though (Y/n) had insisted she could do it or at the very least, she could observe so she knew just how gentle she had to be. (Y/n) was going to have to bathe and change and dress Billy anyway, she was his mother and when she took him home there wouldn't be any midwives there to do everything for her. It would be better if they showed her now how to properly do everything and look after him so that she was prepared when she went home with him.

But since he was only two days old and she knew his skin was still very tender, (Y/n) hadn't put up much resistance when the midwife took him for his bath. But surely it wouldn't take this long to bathe him.

"Look, he's back now baby." Leaning his head down, Ben pressed a kiss to the top of (Y/n)'s head as his arm around her shoulder pulled her closer into his chest. He smoothed his hand up and down her arm for a few moments as his eyes locked on the door to the hospital room they were sitting in.

Ben would admit that it had seemed to take a long time for them to simply give Billy a bath but he could see a nurse making her way to the door which was now opening. Their boy was back now and (Y/n) could calm her mind and have him back in her arms if that was what she seemed so desperate for. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted to hold Billy again. Ever since she found out she was pregnant (Y/n) had been waiting for the moment she could finally have him in her arms and look after him. Now he was here she didn't want to waste a single second.

But (Y/n)'s lips curved from a smile down into a confused frown when instead of a nurse, two women, what looked to be two security men and (Y/n)'s doctor walked through the door. And none of them had Billy in their arms.

(Y/n) felt Ben's arms tightening around her when a shiver ran down her spine and she could feel herself pulling inwards out of panic. Who were the two women in the room and why were they here? And what was so important or wrong that doctor Harper thought he needed to have security with him whilst he talked to the couple? 

"Mr and Mrs Hardy, may we have a word?" Dr Harper's voice was quiet and his tone was gentle but it was the look in his eyes that set (Y/n) on edge. It was a look she had seen too many times before.

It was a sympathetic but cautious look she had gotten from her mother when she revealed she was pregnant and her mother was not happy. It was a look she had gotten from friends and even one midwife when they learned she had married Ben at eighteen and was having a baby so young. But it was also a look she had seen on Ben's face a few rare times when he apologised for doing something stupid or when he'd gone too far and hurt someone and she found out about it. (Y/n) hated that look because it meant nothing but trouble and right now it was scaring the flesh from her bones.

"Where's my baby?" (Y/n) sat up a bit straighter despite the pain it caused her when she moved. She leaned back into Ben's chest that she could feel tensing and pulling inwards as he took a sharp breath.

Ben was starting to feel like he was being backed into a corner like when he was in the boxing ring. He never let people put him in the corner because there was less chance of getting back out of there, it was a weak spot and he didn't like weaknesses. But this was different, this was about his family.

He wasn't the right kind of image for a family man that people would want. Ben was a killer, he was a sinner and he didn't care what people said about him. (Y/n) was the one thing in his life that wasn't bad, she was the one pure thing he had and he loved her and now Billy was here, his son was the only good thing Ben had done in his entire life. In the twenty eight years Ben had been on Earth, Billy was the one thing Ben could say he was proud of and was the good deed he had done to outweigh all the bad he had caused in the world. If anyone or anything threatened that one pure soul Ben created, he would go ballistic.

"Your baby is fine, he's with your midwife at the moment because we need to speak to you."

"What about?" It was Ben who spoke up this time when (Y/n)'s throat constricted and she could hardly manage to get any air into her lungs.

He didn't like the fact that there was security in the room with them, it was bad enough there were two strangers here who Ben knew were not healthcare professionals. But to have security meant that they knew or at least suspected that Ben was some kind of threat or that he would be volatile if he felt threatened. They were here with some kind of bad news and they were preparing for Ben to unleash his bad temper on them. It felt like they were one step ahead of him by knowing about his temper and Ben always had to have the upper hand or he was at risk of losing.

"Mr Hardy, the police have been in contact with us... it seems that you're involved in a murder investigation."

Dr Harper sat down in the chair next to (Y/n) and she could see the sympathy in his eyes and the pain this was causing him. He had known (Y/n) for a few years and throughout this pregnancy he had been there with the midwife to walk her and Ben through everything. He was kind and he was understanding and he had helped (Y/n) sail through the complications that happened during labour.

But he didn't know about Ben.

He didn't know that Ben's boxing club was just a front for the deals he had going on behind closed doors. Dr Harper didn't know that Ben had killed more people than he cared to admit both as a hitman and simple because they ruined plans he had created or tried to take what was his. He had no idea what kind of things Ben was capable of or how he could hurt and traumatise people in such ways that they went insane.

As far as he and any midwives and nurses knew that had seen Ben, he was simply a boxer who genuinely loved his wife. They didn't know the truth, they didn't know that despite how much he did love his wife, his heart was truly black from the murderous streak that ran through his veins.

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked up at Ben but the look in his eyes told her to stay quiet and let him do the talking.

He tightened his hand around her upper arm and momentarily pressed his lips to her hair in an attempt to calm himself down because he didn't want to fight his way out of this one unless he had to. (Y/n) knew he had been up to something, she knew he had done something bad two weeks before Billy had been born. And she could have guessed that someone had died like someone always did where Ben was involved. But she didn't think that the police actually had Ben as a suspect.

Sure, he had been in prison a lot and he was always involved with the police but it was for minor offenses and little things that didn't really matter. They never normally had him in for murder, he was too clever and slippery for them to ever stick one of his murder crimes to him.

"The police brought me in for questioning twice, I haven't been charged or on bail or classed as a suspect. I knew the victim, that's all." His voice was calm and slow in a tentative way that told (Y/n) he was lying. She was the only one who could tell when he was lying, she knew his tone of voice and the slow way he talked that indicated he was getting someone to believe him. He talked like he was putting someone under a trance or even like he was silently threatening them not to question him any longer and (Y/n) found it enticing.

Ben smoothed his left hand over his lips and jaw, rubbing at his sharp jawline in a way that (Y/n) knew he did when he was trying to stay calm and persuade someone of something. (Y/n) usually found it attractive, the way he would slowly rub his fingers against his jaw or lightly pull at his lower lip or even the way he parted his lips but said nothing.

But right now he looked intimidating to her and she needed him to sort this mess out because whatever was going on was the reason Billy wasn't in the room with them right now.

"That's not what we've been told."

"Well what have you been told? Because whatever it is, you've been misinformed." The grating on his voice was clear. Ben was starting to lose his temper and if that happened, no one in this room would like to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"The police seem to have you down as a suspect, whether they've discussed this with you or not and records show that you've had a few run-ins with the police-"

"Why are you bringing this up now? I've been in trouble a few times, show me someone who hasn't. What does this have to do with anything?"

Ben knew what this was, but he couldn't be the one to say it. Dr Harper could see in Ben's eyes that they were both reading from the same page but Ben wouldn't say it because he couldn't break the woman wrapped up in his arms. He couldn't say what this was all about because if he was right then (Y/n) was going to break and it would be all his fault. He swore he would never do anything to hurt her but he may just have broken her apart without ever meaning to or that being his intention. All he ever did was try and love and protect (Y/n) but now he had hurt her.

"The police have you down as a suspect and they've given me no choice but to contact social services. I'm very sorry Mr Hardy... but you're classed as a threat to your son and therefore he would be unsafe with you."

(Y/n) felt her heart sinking to her stomach like a broken ship sinking to the depth of the ocean and resting heavy on the sea bed. Her lower lip started to quiver as tears welled up in her eyes.

They thought Ben was unsafe to be around Billy, as if he would ever go and hurt his baby boy. Dr Harper knew Ben, he didn't know what he got up to but he knew him enough to know he would never do something like that. Ben had been to every appointment (Y/n) had, he called the midwife when she had gotten ill near the end of the pregnancy and he had been involved from the start. Anyone could see how much he loved (Y/n) and how much he was invested in being a father. He wouldn't hurt (Y/n) or Billy, not now and not ever in his life.

He wasn't a threat.

"You seriously think I'd hurt my son? He's a baby for fuck's sake, I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Why the hell would I have been to all the appointments and been here when he was born if I was tempted to hurt him?!"

"I don't believe you would do that, but this isn't about what I think, my professional opinion doesn't count for very much when the police are involved and believe you may be a threat. Social services are here to talk you through this, they have no choice but to be involved."

"Then I'll leave. Until the police can sort this shit and tell you I haven't done anything I'll go and Billy can stay with (Y/n) I won't go near either of them."

If they were going to be like this and determine themselves that Ben was a threat then he would stay away from his family. He would break his own heart and stay away from his wife and his newborn son if it meant that social services would stay out of their business and Billy would be classed as safe with (Y/n).

Ben would go and stay with a friend, he wouldn't go home and he wouldn't even contact (Y/n). He would cut himself off from her completely for as long as necessary if it meant she would be okay with Billy and that she wouldn't be threatened to have her son taken away from her. Ben loved every bone in (Y/n)'s body and he hadn't been away from her in over a year but he knew that if Billy was taken from her, she would break completely.

"I've suggested that already Mr Hardy... but it isn't that simple. You see, the last time you were involved with the police, (Y/n) gave a statement for your alibi. And when the police questioned you two weeks ago, you mentioned (Y/n) as part of your alibi. They're suggesting that Billy won't be safe with either of you right now because you might be conspiring together."

Ben shifted both his arms so they were bound around (Y/n)'s chest when she doubled over like she was either going to be sick or suddenly lunge for the doctor. The whine that left her lips made Ben shiver and caused everyone in the room to look away, not wanting to stare at a new mother in distress due to the discomfort it caused them.

They were going to take her baby away from her.

He was barely two days old, (Y/n) had had less than forty-eight hours with her baby boy and now they were stealing him from her because they thought she was unsafe and unfit to be his mother. They thought she was going to put him in danger because she loved a murderer.

Ben pressed his face into (Y/n)'s hair, breathing in her scent to try and calm down his raging anger but he could feel her trembling against him as she started to cry and it made the rage triple in his chest. His heart was picking up speed and his anger was rattling through his veins to the point he was shaking. How dare they do this. How dare they say that (Y/n) was unsafe to care for and be around her own baby just because she was married to Ben. He would never ask her to give him a fake alibi, the two times she had done so were only when it was the truth because Ben would never endanger her like that.

"I- I... I haven't done anything w-wrong! I'm not involved... he's my baby, y-you can't... where is he? Where have you taken him?"

(Y/n) held her trembling hands to her chest as she looked at Dr Harper through the tears that were flooding her eyes and streaming down her face. She had done nothing wrong, (Y/n) had never been involved in the police and she had only given Ben an alibi when he had actually been at home and she didn't want them to pin anything onto him that he hadn't actually done. She knew it made her a bad person for so easily forgiving the cruelty Ben did on a daily basis. But she wasn't a bad person at heart and she wasn't going to be a bad or unsafe mother.

"If it was my choice your baby would be here with you both right now, but I can't do anything yet. (Y/n), Billy is going to be kept on a separate ward and when he can be discharged, he will have to be placed into a foster home just until this is resolved. Social services will be in contact with you both throughout this and they will make sure Billy is okay and keep you updated. I'm so very sorry."

"A separate ward? You won't even let her see him?"

Ben whispered sweet nothings against (Y/n)'s temple as she curled up against him, laying on her side with her head resting on Ben's lap to stop herself from lashing out at anyone. She felt like she was suffocating, it was as if water was slowly filling up her lungs until she couldn't breathe anymore and all she could do was wail and cry until her heart gave out and she passed out or died.

The fury that was boiling away inside Ben was bubbling over like water in a simmering pan. They were being so cruel that instead of letting Billy stay with (Y/n) and be under supervision, they were stealing him away and hiding him on a separate ward for the purpose of keeping (Y/n) away from him. They weren't giving her a chance here. They knew Ben was the threat and the reason Billy might be unsafe, they knew that (Y/n) had never been violent and was not capable of hurting her baby.

They should put her under supervision so she could be with her baby but be watched just in case they thought she really was lying for Ben. They shouldn't rip her baby away from her because it was beyond cruel. She was a new mother, she shouldn't have her baby taken away from her when she had done absolutely nothing wrong in the first place.

"Mr Hardy, I'm Linda from social services. We've just been to see your son and we can assure you he is fine and cared for-"

"I wasn't talking to you. Who the fuck do you think you are anyway? I'm the problem, I'm the one the police keep dragging back for questioning, you don't have any reason or right to take Billy from (Y/n), she's his fucking mother he needs her."

"It's not up to me, your case worker thinks its for the best and so do the police."

"If you talked to the police you'd know this is all bullshit! She hasn't lied, she was pregnant and she had been in pain having a haemorrhage so I brought her to A&E. That's the alibi she gave me and it's fucking true, she hasn't lied about anything! Where the Hell is my son?!"

Ben knew he wasn't doing himself any favours right now, he wasn't even bothering to defend himself and he wasn't trying to convince anyone that he wasn't a threat to Billy. All he cared about was that they knew (Y/n) wasn't a threat. He knew he was guilty of a lot of things and so did everyone in this room, but (Y/n) was docile and sweet and loving and charming and she did not deserve any of this. But above all that, she was a mother.

She was a new, young mother who was going to break into pieces if her baby was taken away from her like this. They had no right to involve (Y/n) in this but they were and they had no evidence for this.

When (Y/n) gave Ben an alibi she was telling the truth. She had collapsed in pain and she had started to bleed, Ben called the midwife and then took her to A&E because they thought it could have been premature labour or the placenta moving. Ben had looked after (Y/n) and had been in hospital with her for five days, it was his workers who had carried out the crime he was accused of and (Y/n) had only told the police the truth. She hadn't lied because they knew if she lied and the police found out then something like this would happen. But she had told the truth and was still paying the terrible price.

(Y/n) let out a whimper when Ben pulled away from holding her, leaving her sitting in the middle of the bed looking like she was about to melt into nothing.

He couldn't control his temper anymore and both Linda and her co-worker scurried nearer the door when Ben's feet stormed the polished floor, advancing towards them with a dark, menacing look in his eyes. He wanted to know where his son was and he wanted to know right now.

"Where is my son?" There was a deafening pause between each word that Ben spoke but he knew deep down he wasn't going to get the answer he wanted.

He barely felt one of the security men grasping his arm before he spun round and embedded his fist into the stranger's face, knocking him back to give himself a few extra seconds of tormenting the women keeping his son from him. Ben didn't hear the gasping noise that escaped Linda's lips when his hand curled around her throat and he pushed her back into the doorframe behind her with a bang. Ben didn't even care that he was going to be arrested for threatening a social worker like this, all he cared about was getting Billy back into (Y/n)'s arms.

"Tell me where my son is or I'll run round every ward in this whole hospital until I find him. You can do whatever you want to me but I won't let you take him from my wife."

Ben knew what he was doing, he knew the game he was playing and the price he would get from this. He knew if he threatened this woman and if he was the one to kick off, he would be seen as the threat and as long as (Y/n) didn't retaliate, she would have a better chance of getting Billy back. If she didn't fight then she wouldn't be seen as a threat, she would be seen as a grieving mother who needed her baby back. Ben needed Billy to be back with (Y/n), they were his family and he needed his family to be kept together where they belonged.

A growl escaped Ben's lips when hands grabbed his arms and he was pulled back from the woman he had pinned to the wall. His hands were pinned to his lower back near his hips and bound together, tight grips were held on his shoulders and his body was shaken to try and get him to stop fighting against them. But he couldn't stop, Ben couldn't stop fighting for his wife and his son.

He threw his head back until he felt the top of his head smacking into the security man's nose, earning a successful snap that implied his nose was now either fractured or broken. His hands curled into fists and his arms pushed backwards until he pummelled his fists into the other man's lower stomach to wind him. It allowed him a few seconds to pull away and push himself into the side of the bed so he could look at (Y/n).

Ben nudged his head against (Y/n)'s so she would look at him, he only had a few seconds before he was taken out of the room and the police were called to arrest him.

"Baby, baby listen to me. I promise you I'll get him back, I swear I won't let them take him I'll get him back. I love you."

Turning sharply to his right, Ben forced his elbow into the security man's stomach, giving himself two seconds to lean down and kiss (Y/n) before he allowed them to roughly wrench him away from the bed and towards the door. He would comply now, he would be arrested and let off with a caution and be under watch.

But then he would come back. He would find out where Billy was and he would get him back into (Y/n)'s arms, no matter what it cost him to do that. No one was breaking up his family, not a chance.

(Y/n) wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, willing the urge to be sick to go away as she watched the two men struggle to drag her husband kicking and yelling out of the room. She wanted him to stay, she wanted Ben's arms to be wrapped around her holding her close to his chest trying to calm her down. She wanted Ben kissing her head and Billy cuddled into her arm, safe and sound where he should be.

She heard Ben shouting his promise again and again before his voice drowned out into nothing and she was left alone, her family separated from her.

She hadn't done anything wrong.

[starlightrows]

Love In All Its Forms

Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: FLUFF, illness, non-sexual nudity

Summary: It’s the day for celebrations of love, but instead of the plan you’ve crafted, you’re sick in bed

AN: Happy Monday! As I’m writing this, snow is continually falling, roads are closed and I’m spending Valentine’s Day solo and sick with a cold. But it’s okay, because I love all of you! Happy (late) Valentine’s Day!

“Lay back down princess, you need to rest,” Boba says, pushing on your shoulder gently. You’d woken up feeling intense pressure behind your eyes, and your nose running.

“No,” you tried to protest, pushing back against him. “You took time off from your duties, I spent weeks planning for today,”

You were starting to get upset, you really had been looking forward to today. Asked him weeks in advance to take this particular day off. On your home world, today was a special holiday to celebrate love in all its forms. Friendships, parenthood, spouses, lovers, partners of all kinds. And you wanted to celebrate with Boba, your love. Originally you had hoped to take him to your home world, it would be covered in snow this time of year. There are pools of hot bubbling mineral water up the mountain your home village was situated at the base of. You thought he might enjoy the hot water, and uninterrupted alone time you’d be able to enjoy. Unfortunately the journey to reach your home planet, celebrate the holiday, and the return trip would take too much time. But he had agreed to give you this day.

“I know,” he pushes your hair back, and sits next to you on the bed. Your eyes are beginning to water and your chest tightens. You don’t want to get upset this way, and you really don’t want to be sick. You sigh and close your eyes, willing the tears not to spill over

“I just— I really wanted today to be special. I wanted to show you how important you are to me,” you cry softly. Boba continues petting your hair, staring down at your pitiful form.

“We don’t need a specific day to demonstrate love cyare,” he tells you. His words are kind, but they do nothing to comfort you.

“I just wanted to take care of you, and make you feel loved,” the tears fall freely from your eyes.

“Cyare, you make me feel loved everyday,” he catches your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “If today is truly the day for lovers, than let me take care of you,”

You don’t really want to relent, you don’t want to let this go so easily. But you feel like bantha shit, and you don’t have much of a choice. So you nod your head, and let him tuck the covers around you.

“Sleep princess, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he kisses your forehead, as you shut your eyes. The bedding is soft and warm, such a stark contrast to the chilled hard stone that make up the walls of the palace. Normally a welcome relief from the blazing dual suns that beat down on Tatooine. The warmth of the covers and plush pillows combined with your illness induced exhaustion, draws you back into sleep.

True to his word, Boba is there when you wake up again. He sits by in one of the comfortable arm chairs you’d had decorated the rather sparse bedchamber with, reading something off a datapad. You don’t alert him to your wakefulness, instead you just settle your gaze over him. You hope beyond all reason that he’s reading for his own enjoyment, and not for work. This was supposed to be a relaxing, pleasure only kind of day.

“Boba,” you call out for him, reaching an arm up out of the covers. He looks over at you, sets down the datapad.

“Can I get you anything little one?” He asks, coming to sit beside you once more, accepting your small hand in his two large ones. “Water? Tea?”

“Water please,” he releases your hand, and steps off into the adjoining ‘fresher. You sit up in bed, and accept the glass of water he offers on his return. You drink the entire glass, and hand it back to him to set on the bedside table.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, settling onto his side of the bed. He opens his arms, inviting you to cuddle up to him. A luxury you don’t often get to experience with him, so you take full advantage.

“A bit better. My head doesn’t hurt so bad, but I can’t breathe through my nose,” you say honestly. His thumb strokes your upper arm where he holds you.

“You wanted us to go to those hot springs on your home world,” he says, “we have a bath tub. The steam will help your breathing,”

“Maybe in a bit,” you say, clutching his shirt just a little tighter “you’re a very comfortable pillow, my love,” He chuckles, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. For now you were just happy to held.

Eventually the idea of a soothing bath, and humidity to open up your sinuses was too tempting to pass up. The day had gotten away from you, and an evening bath would be a decent way to end the day.

Boba disappeared back into the ‘fresher to run you the bath. You took some time to remake the bed, and toss your used handkerchiefs into the wash bin. Boba beckoned you into the ‘fresher. Helped you remove your night shirt you’d spent the day in, and gave you a hand for stability as your stepped down into the sunken tub. The hot water felt amazing on your aching body, and the steam wafting up from the water was already starting to ease your breathing. You leaned you head against the high wall of the tub and closed your eyes. Even though your throat was still sore, this was very nice.

“Are you going to join me?” You asked, sensing he was still in the ‘fresher with you

“No,” he answered “I’m going to check on dinner. I asked the scullery maids to make bread and soup for you,” You hummed in acknowledgment. He leaves the ‘fresher, making sure to shut the door so the steam will stay trapped inside.

Sinking further into the water, you think about how lucky you are. People you’ve been with in the past would likely be angry they’d taken a whole day off of work, only to have to take care of you or have plans canceled. But not Boba, for as much of a grump he could be at times, he truly does love you and appreciate you.

When he returns, the bath water is going a little cold and the steam is dissipating. He holds your bathrobe open for you and fastens the tie. He leads you back to bed and offers you a bowl of the soup he had mentioned before.

The broth is flavorful and rich, even though you’re already warm from the bath, it warms your insides. He sits with you, sipping off his own bowl of soup.

“Thank you,” you say, as he takes your now empty bowls placing them on the table by the door. The maids will likely come retrieve them later. You’ll have to remember to thank them in person as well when you get the chance. “Thank you for taking care of me today,”

He gives you a look, as he begins turning down the covers to get you tucked back into bed for the night. “How many times have you taken care of me when I was sick or injured, little one?”

“I wouldn’t have died or anything if you had chosen to go back to work instead of staying though,” you comment while he slides under the covers beside you. Draws you in, placing your head on his chest

“Today is the day for love in all its forms, and sometimes loving someone means taking care of them,” he says. You never would have expected this from him. He could have his tender moments with you sure, but this gentleness and wisdom is new.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say sleepily “Next time you can manage a day off. I’ll return the favor and spoil you all day,”

He chuckles at your musings. “As if you don’t spoil me everyday,”

You’re fading, sleep calls to you. But you get out one last thing. “I love you,”

He nuzzles your head with his cheek, you’re fully asleep but he responds anyway “I love you too,”

[lixis-sin-cauldron]

The Princess and The Hawk [Hawks | Keigo Takami] Pt. 1

Part Two: Available Here Rating: Explicit  18+ content MINORS DNI. Pairing:  Keigo Takami (Hawks) X fem!reader Word Count: 6.9k Kinks and Warnings: Animal Violence, Blood

Summary: A dull routine, every day like the last. You're comfortable, if a little lonely. Who knew a simple walk home could change so much? Can also be read on Ao3 here: The Princess and The Hawk Big thank you to my lovely beta reader @lilleeboi 

Passing through the park to get home after work was your main way to de-stress after dealing with customers all day, the time of day left the area fairly empty and the fall air carried the wonderful scents of the season that wafted through the trees and flowers. Normally, it was the most calming part of your day. Normally.

Today, you were startled out of your calm daze by the screeching and hissing of two animals going at each other. Your eyes snapped toward the source of the noise, a twisting ball of fur a few meters ahead, beside the park walkway. Correction: a twisting ball of fur and feathers.

A large grey tabby had somehow been able to snag a very large brown bird that was currently doing its best to fend the feline off as it tried going for the bird’s throat, its talons pushing against the cat’s stomach, a smear of red in the fur where it pressed.

Nature is intense, you thought.

You knew better than to interrupt, they were both wild animals, predators that killed to feed and survive, you had no right to push your human views onto the fight. Wanting to return to your calm mindset, you hurried by the unsettling sight, willing your shaky legs forward. You didn't want to think of the fate that awaited the loser.

As the scuffle disappeared out of sight behind you, you heard a hoarse squawk that felt as if it was directed at you. Involuntarily, you turned to see the cat had gained the upper hand. It had pinned the bird on its stomach and was about to clamp down its jaw on the nape of its neck in a killing blow.

Your eyes met the bird’s, a striking golden-brown, and it seemed to be crying for help with its stare.

Forgoing your previous judgment – unable to ignore the desperate plea – you rushed towards the pair, slipped your purse off, and swung it with full force. It connected cleanly against the tabby just before it was able to land its killing blow. It tumbled backward, and after rolling for a moment, righted itself and turned towards you and its stolen prey. It stared you down, hissing deeply, then wincing. It let loose another deep hiss before retreating.

Heart pounding, you took a deep breath and looked at the bird that you had saved, almost positive it wouldn’t be there – having flown off when it was freed. However, there it remained, resting in the grass, its chest heaving just like yours.

“Oh geez,” Taking to your knees you hovered hands over the wounded avian, unsure of what to do. “Please don’t die.”

The bird shifted, trying to stand and move its wings, as if in response to your plea to prove it was fine. However, as it stretched its left-wing it flinched, wobbled for a moment, and collapsed back to the dirt.

You whimpered, unsure of what to do. It was clearly hurt, if you left it alone there was a good chance it would be attacked again or just die of its wounds anyway.

Ugh, why did I do that? There was no point in intervening, it’s going to die either way.

The bird still heaved, giving you a sideways stare. It seemed to study you with its gaze and tried moving again, letting out a cry as it did. Your heart gave a pang at the sight; it clearly wanted to live. How could you just leave it after stepping in?

“Do-don’t move,” you stuttered, reaching forward, “I’ll bring you to a vet, they’ll help you.”

Surprisingly, the bird gave no resistance to your touch. When you found trouble grasping it, especially while trying not to hurt it in the process, you peeled off your light jacket and gently wrapped the fowl in that. Once sure you had a hold that didn’t cause further damage, you raced off in the direction of the nearest animal clinic you could find.

“He’s pretty beat up, but nothing life-threatening,” The Veterinary nurse explained, softly running a thumb over the bird’s crown, its plumage fluttering at the touch. “We cleaned the cuts and the left-wing has a small hairline fracture. It’s been properly set but will need at least 2 to 3 weeks to fully heal, so we wrapped the wing so it can’t move. You’ll need to-”

“Wait, me? Why do I have to?” you were glad to hear the animal would be okay, but you were alarmed to hear they expect you to take care of it.

They looked at you in surprise, “Isn’t he yours?”

“No!” You waved your hands frantically, “I found it being attacked and just… stepped in. I don’t even know what breed it- err, he is. Let alone how to care for him.”

“That’s surprising, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of an exotic bird just randomly being found like that.”

“Exotic?”

“Yes, this handsome man is a Red-Tailed Hawk. They’re a North American bird. For it to be in Japan that means it was brought here and must have an owner, so I just assumed that was you.”

“O-oh.” You can’t say you were that surprised at the revelation, you had never seen a bird that looked like the hawk. A closer examination showed that it wasn’t just brown, but a beautiful mix of dark brown, white, and tan. Along with strikingly red tail feathers that you had been sure at the time was blood.

“This one seems very special too, normally the tail feathers are more of a cinnamon-red.” The nurse provided, seeming to have followed your thought process, “He’s very well cared for and in amazing shape, aside from the scuffle. If he hadn’t been grounded due to the wing, I doubt that cat would have ever touched him or stood a chance if it had been able to.”

“The cat didn’t do that?”

“The fracture is very clean; an animal’s bite would have crushed the bone.”

“Oh, that’s good… I guess?” you studied the hawk, resting in a box filled with a plush towel that the clinic had provided, he was perfectly calm under the expert’s touch. You were sure the calm state was in part of the fact he was full of painkillers at the moment, but you had an urge to follow the example and pet the resting creature yourself. You held back though, instead returning to your original topic, “Uh, as I said, he’s not mine so are… you guys able to take him since he’s a lost pet?”

Their strokes of the feather head ceased, instead rising up to scratch their forehead, “Sometimes we do that, sure, but right now we’re a little full plus it normally best for a bird sanctuary to take them but in this case….”

 “In this case…?”

“They’re trained and equipped to handle local wildlife and such. With this being an exotic breed, they wouldn’t take it in due to the trouble it could cause.”

“So… what does that mean for him? You said it would take a few weeks for the wing to heal, so he can’t fly and as a pet, he may not survive even if he could fly.” You had an idea of where the conversation was heading but you really hoped you were wrong.

“There are a few places I could check to see if they could take him in while they searched for the owner, but with how late it is I’d have to wait until tomorrow to contact them and they may not be able to take him right away even if they could…”

You sighed, “Would it be… hard to take care of him for a few days?”

The nurse beamed, happy to hear you volunteering, “Given his condition, no, not really,” They picked up a bag that had been sitting on the table beside the bird’s box and pulled out the contents. “The pain medication would keep him mellow for the most part, so even if he wasn’t such a gentleman,” They preened at the bird, commenting on how composed he had been during the whole ordeal. “You wouldn’t have much trouble handling him. You just need to apply this one orally every twice a day and this one on the cuts—”

You struggled into your apartment, the box in your arms, and your keys fighting for dominance as you unlocked the door. The keys lost and fumbled to the ground as the door teetered open.

“Fuckbucket," you cursed.

Leaving them on the ground, you carried the precious cargo past your couch and to the dining room table at the far edge of the small apartment and set it down as carefully as possible. The hawk had fallen asleep during your travel home and you were very keen to keep it that way.

After ensuring he wasn’t going to wake, you returned to the entrance and retrieved your keys as well as the shopping bag that rested next to the doorway.

While the clinic had been happy to give advice on how to care for the bird, and even charging just the cost of the visit and nothing else – you’d still had to call a ride-share to take the bird home and even stop at a pet store to purchase things to help care for him. Since it wasn’t like you actually owned anything to use while he lived with you.

A big piece of advice to make a safe space for the hawk to rest since you wouldn’t have a cage to place it in, free-roaming was the preferred option if it felt well enough to move around. They also provided a contact line to call if he suddenly became violent. While the wounded wing was wrapped, he couldn’t fly but the talons and beak could still cause damage if you weren’t careful. They would contact you as well once they had a place for him to go while the owner was being looked for.

Stretching with an exhausted sigh, your gaze returned to the box and found the hawk now awake and his head now resting on the edge watching you with glazed eyes.

“Uh, hi,” You blinked, wondering why you had just greeted an animal. Though he definitely didn’t feel like an animal when you locked eyes with him. You had a disconcerting feeling when he looked at you like he was analyzing you.

He let out a weak squawk in reply to the greeting.

“Right…” you decided to just go with it, picking up the purchased items you approached the table cautiously and started setting up an area next to the box with feed and water, “So, you’ll be staying with me for a bit, just while you heal and we find your home.”

He ruffled his feathers as the word ‘home’. You weren’t sure how to take that if it even meant anything to start with.

“So, if you can… I don’t know, not cause too much trouble, that would be great. Think you can do that for me, buddy?” You asked, holding out a hesitant hand to him, curled so the back of your fingers were present.

He stared at the extended appendage and you were sure he was going to bite you, but he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against your knuckles.

Your heart fluttered, a smile blossoming across your face at the sight. He suddenly seemed a lot less frightening to you; realizing that he was tired and sore, and maybe even thankful to have a safe place after what he had experienced.

He withdrew his touch and curled in the box, head under his free wing and only a moment later, gentle snoring could be heard."

Wish I could fall asleep that fast. You snorted, laughing at the idea of envying a drugged-up fowl.

The concept of sleep did appeal very strongly after the evening you’d had; so, you ate a quick dinner, showered, and slipped into your bed, leaving the door ajar in case you needed to access the living/dining space quickly.

Your oversized t-shirt hung off your shoulder loosely, your underwear peeking out from underneath as your arms stretched above your head while walking into your tiny kitchen. After withdrawing a bottle of water from the fridge, you lazily looked around your home as you sipped it. You sputtered as your eyes fell upon the box resting on the table, coughing harshly as you forced the water from your lungs, having forgotten the previous day’s events in your sleepy state.

The box was tipped over sideways, the towel in a bundle on the table.

“No, no, no,” you chanted, rushing over and looking around for the wounded animal, “Where-” the words caught as the towel squirmed, the dark brown hawk head popping out from beneath it. “Oh, thank god.”

You were wide awake now.

“You scared the living hell out of me, buddy,” you reached forward and ran a knuckle across his crown, enjoying the softness. You leaned over, reaching eye level with him, “You have a nightmare or something?” You cooed.

You noticed his eyes drift, losing connection with yours, and move downwards, his head giving a tilt as they settled. You followed his gaze and realized you were giving the bird a clear view right down your shirt, where you were currently braless. You reacted instantly, straightening yourself and holding the shirt close to your bosom with a flushed face.

It’s a bird! you reminded yourself, He was probably just reacting to the fabric moving. He’s probably hungry. I need to give him his medicine, too.

Calming your nerves, you retrieved the small bag with medication. “Hey, buddy, you probably don’t feel great right? This will help numb that pain. You mind letting me put this in your mouth?” You held a syringe up, filled with a paste, and capped with a rubber tip that you could slide into his beak.

He seemed to glower at the suggestion, and you were starting to dread having to force his beak open when he shoved the towel off his back and stood up wobbling.

“Wow, you’re very clever, aren’t you? ” you exclaimed.

He huffed at the praise, parting his beak marginally to allow the tip to slide in. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, you carefully slid the syringe tip into his mouth and pushed the plunger just enough to provide the proper dose as you had been instructed.

The hawk reacted negatively, chomping his beak and twisting his head, evidently not enjoying the taste of the medicine. He strode over the water bowl resting on the tabletop and dunked his beak into the water, small bubbles rolling the surface as he guzzled down the liquid.

The sight was so shocking, you couldn’t help but start laughing, your chest heaved as you gasped for air between your cackles.

The hawk, having finished his drink, seemed unimpressed with your reaction.

“Oh, come on,” you chided after regaining your composure. “That was hilarious. Geez, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. Thanks for that, buddy.”

He shook, his feathers fluffing, then turned and pushed himself back under the towel, clearly unamused.

“Aw, baby’s embarrassed.” You cooed with another chuckle before returning to the kitchen and fixing yourself some breakfast. Once you’d eaten you returned to him to refill the water bowl he had downed and finally noticed that the bowl with the bird feed had been overturned at some point, most likely when he had flipped the box during the night.

“Can you not make a mess of the apartment?” You nagged, cleaning the mess, and refilling the bowl. He gave no reaction, his bright red tail the only visible part sticking out from under the towel. You gently poked the protruding feathers, feeling him lurch in surprise at the touch, “Hey, make sure you eat, you’ll feel horrible with no food in your stomach.”

The hawk rolled under the towel, sticking his head out to glower at the bowl and then you.

“Someone’s in a foul mood,” You blinked, then grinned. “Pun not intended.”

You could swear he rolled his eyes.

Just as you were about to comment on the action, your phone alarm went off. You groaned, “Time for work,” You studied the bird and the sideways box. “They said free roaming would be best since I don’t have a pen or cage big enough for you…” You shifted a dining room chair so it was angled against the table. “If, uh, you want to get down just use this instead of trying to fly… okay?”

His reply was crawling back under the towel, making sure to be completely hidden this time.

Still talking to a bird.

You grumbled something nonsensical, then returned to your room to change your clothes. Once ready to go, you padded towards your door, pulling your hair into a ponytail and glanced at the lump under the towel, and wondered if you should try and call off instead. You decided against it, knowing there was little you could change by staying home.

“I’ll… be back before you need more meds,” you called out. No reaction. You sighed, wondering why you felt like there would be, and exited your home.

You were more than relieved when you returned home and found it in the same condition you had left it that morning. In fact, you realized as you checked for damages, it seemed as if the bird hadn’t moved the entire time you’d been at work. You trailed over to the table and saw that he was where you had left him, snoozing away under the towel, his beak barely protruding.

“I’m home,” you said softly, running a fingertip over the exposed beak.

He let out a soft cooing sound at the touch, wiggling enough to expose his head and look at you with his intense golden eyes.

“Hey, buddy.”

Another coo with a head tilt so he rested on his cheek as he stared, seeming somewhat dazed.

“You okay?” you asked worriedly, he had been more responsive until now. You were about to call the clinic when you saw that the feed bowl had not been touched at all, no dip in the seed to indicate that he had moved anything within. “You haven’t eaten at all?” you declared, picking up the bowl. “I told you-” you paused and sighed, wondering once again why you spoke to an animal like he understood you.

“Do you not like this brand or blend or something?” you muttered. You pulled out your phone to see what type of bird feed was best for him. You realized something unfortunate. Voles, rats, rabbits… “I bought the wrong type of food.” You groaned. You had been in such a rush to get back to the rideshare you had just grabbed the recommended bag of bird feed, not even thinking to make sure that your new roommate could actually eat it.

You didn’t really have any prey type meat just lying around your kitchen. He needed to eat something.

 “Ugh, maybe I can mix some… gravy or something into the seed. Maybe that will work for him until I can get something better.” You left the avian to stride over to the kitchen, opening the fridge in search of an additive to spur the bird’s appetite since, according to Google, he could eat the seed if he had to, but was just choosing not to.

Before you had really started your search the hawk let out a low screech, pulling your attention back to him. Your head snapped over in reaction, surprised to see him standing on the table and eyeballing you, giving a strong feeling of a hunter studying its prey.

“Uh, what’s up, buddy?” you asked nervously.

He shifted his weight between his feet for a few moments before dipping his head down and hooking his beak around the brim of the metal feed bowl. Once gripped, he raised his head, bringing the bowl with and held it in the air for a second while he fought to keep balance at the sudden weight. You were about to call out for him to stop, in case he got hurt, when he thrust his head downwards and released the bowl.

The bowl bounced off the tabletop and tumbled to the floor, spinning. Feed flew all around him, covering the table and floor.

Stunned, you didn’t move, the apartment filled with the sounds of the bowl spinning in place before settling with a dull clunk. The hawk arched his back and let out a defiant squawk at you, finalizing the production you’d just witnessed.

You blinked, processing what had just occurred before standing up, furious, “Are you serious?” you snapped at the proud bird. “You – that – I said don’t make – I don’t even- Okay!” You shouted, unable to process your thoughts, “I get it, you don’t want the damn seed but what the fuck. I have to clean all this up! That- you-”

I’m shouting a bird.

You sighed, cupping your face in your hands and letting out a long groan. What the hell was wrong with this bird, you had never met an animal that was so damn- you didn’t even know how to describe it.

“Let me see what I have,” you hissed at the fowl, wondering if hawk tasted like chicken.

Hm, chicken...

You returned to your excavation of the fridge and found the pack of chicken breasts you had intended to cook the night before when you had been planning to be home earlier and not as tired as you ended up being.

Guess I can make this tonight and share some with him. Not that you found him worthy of this type of treat at the moment.

“Wait… Can hawks eat chicken? Isn’t that like-” your sentence was interrupted by the bird giving a squawk, he was shifting his weight between his feet again but more in an excited dance than a show as before. “What? You like chicken?”

Another squawk.

“Fine.” Ripping the package open, pulling one breast out, and to your cutting board. A few minutes later you set down a bowl of the raw meat in front of him, cut into bite-sized cubes for easier consumption.

He stared at the bowl, suddenly seeming reluctant.

“Oh, what now?” You groaned, pitching your brow.

Fluffing his feathers and looking at you, his gaze shifted to behind you back towards the kitchen.

“What, you want more?”

He huffed and bowed his head, though that lasted only a moment before he held it high again and had a confident look as if having set his mind to something. Wobbling, he padded to the edge of the table and hooked his beak into the dining chair you had set up that morning for him and started climbing down it.

You found the process fascinating, surprised by his sudden burst of energy. Stepping out of the way, you watched as he landed on the tiled floor, starting his way to the kitchen by hopping and tapping along while doing his best to keep balance. He reached the middle of the area and stood in front of the oven. He was panting, having worn himself out with the exercise. However, he wasn’t done, clearly wanting to strike home just what he was thinking, as he bent his head forward and tapped his forehead against the metal appliance, repeating the gesture softly a few times before stopping and resting it there, turning to look at you to ensure you were watching and understood.

“I’m guessing that means you want it cooked.”

The confirmation seemed to be correct, as he gave a weak note in reply and slid to the floor, exhausted by his show; he landed softly on his back, feet in air.

You stepped up to him and bent down, gently brushing the plumage of his stomach, “You are the most spoiled pet I have ever seen. Fine, I’ll cook the damn chicken. Don’t expect anything fancy, though.”

He only let out a long exhale in reply.

You returned the tired bird to the table, grabbed the bowl of chicken cubes, and began once again to prepare the request. A quick check on the phone and you decided to just boil the meat, not adding any spices or extras since that could hurt his stomach. You also did a double-check and removed any excess fat, noting that also wasn’t great for him

While the cubes boiled, you made yourself your own meal, a mouthwatering bowl of katsu over rice.

You set the boiled meat down in front of the starving avian. “Happy?” You sighed, hoping he would finally eat something.

He huffed at the bowl, as if contemplating how to also toss it in a showy fashion, then bent his head and took a cube. He chomped down on it and shivered. Pausing for a moment, he tilted his head in contemplation then bent again to grab another.

“Glad to see it’s good enough for your refined palate.”

Grabbing your own meal, you plopped down at the table opposite the bird and started eating while browsing your phone. You were only a few bites in when you noticed the hawk leaning over you, staring at the bowl.

“Noooo. No!” you pulled the bowl close to your chest, “You have your chicken, this is mine! And fried foods are bad for birds.”

He fluffed, giving you what you could only describe as puppy dog eyes.

How???

You grumbled, “One bite, one!”  You pinched a piece of katsu with your chopsticks, making a small bird-sized piece, and lifted the morsel for the bird to take. He did so eagerly, snatching the piece and sliding it down his throat.

He let out a contented coo.

“Glad you like it- No,” you snapped as he started giving the same look once again. “I said one, and I meant it! I’m in charge here, mister!”

He seemed to relent, his shoulders slumping then he tilted his head again, a contemplative look in his eyes.

“Wha- Uh.” Your voice caught as he slipped off the table into your lap and pressed himself into your chest, nuzzling you. You held back a squeal of delight at the surprising cuteness of the hawk while holding your food in the air with one hand. “That’s a dirty move and I refuse-”

He cooed, looking up at you with big eyes.

“One more.”

He gave a rumbling sound of happiness as he downed the next piece, continuing to snuggle you.

You set the bowl down and gave your full attention to the large bird, amazed at how affectionate he was. You ran your fingers through his feathers, finding soft down. You lost yourself to the petting; he seemingly enjoyed the pampering. You were unsure how, but you were now at the injured fowl’s mercy.

Both of you jumped as your phone went off in your pocket, interrupting the cuddle session. Holding him still, you retrieved it and answered quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hi, there! This is y/n?”

“Uh, yeah… this is?”

“I’m calling from the animal clinic! You brought the lovely red-tail hawk in yesterday?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry I didn’t expect you to call so soon!”

“No worries! Hope I’m not bothering. Are you okay to talk?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Great! I wanted to let you know that one of the rescue centers we work with is able to take the darling in. They can have someone swing by ASAP if you like.”

“Oh, already?” you eyed the animal resting in your arm.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, I just- I thought it would take a few days.”

“…would you prefer to have their number? That way when you’re… ready, you can call them, and they can come by?”

You pursed your lips, suddenly unsure of yourself. You were in no position to have a pet, especially a predator… yet you found yourself reluctant to let him go. In the short time he had been there, you had laughed and smiled more than you had for a while. It was a welcome disruption to your dull life.

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

They let out a small chuckle, “Sure thing. I’ll let them know. They’ve also posted a bulletin about him, to help track down the owner.”

“Oh, that’s great. I hope they get found, he’s very… special. I’m sure he’s missed.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s doing well! Please feel free to reach out to us or the center if you have any questions or trouble.”

“Will do… thanks.”

Great. Just great. You sighed as you hung up and studied the bird nestled against your breast.

“Welp, I’m crazy. You’re stuck with me for a bit longer, hope you’re okay with that, buddy.”

He nuzzled further into you as if saying thanks for letting him stay.

“Guess if… you’re staying I should give you a name?”

He straightened at that and locked eyes, staring you down fiercely. Clearly, he found the matter very important.

You gave a nervous chuckle, “Don’t have high hopes there, I’m far from great at naming things, bud.” you paused, considering your statement. “Actually, I think I’ve already named you. How does ‘Buddy’ sound?”

He made a disgruntled noise but proceeded to bury himself back into your chest, nuzzling the fabric of your shirt, springing faintly against the fat of your breasts.

“Welp, best you get… Speaking of you getting things, you’re due for your next batch of meds.”

He was less than pleased with the reminder of the foul-tasting substance.

The following morning you woke not to your alarm, but with a start to the sound of someone talking in your living room, the sound seeping in through the ajar door. Your heart raced with panic as you attempted to make sense of the sound. Slipping from the bed and grabbing the wooden bat you kept at your bedside for such events, you approached the door, glancing around the frame to see who dared to enter your abode. Mind whirling, you expected to see masked figures looting your home or-

Buddy! The bird had been asleep on the table when you had gone to bed. What if they hurt him during their looting!

Forgoing your own safety, you rushed out into the open area, only lit by the dim morning sun through the shaded balcony glass door. You reached the couch, brandishing the bat, ready to swing in a moment’s notice. Surveying the room, you found the source of the talking – the television.

Buddy was perched on the couch, the remote next to him, staring at the television. It was on a news channel, going over the latest hero and villain activities.

“What the hell!” you screeched, lowering the bat.

The bird’s head snapped towards you, having not heard your approach. He reacted at your appearance, flapping his free wing and giving a surprised cry.

“You scared the living hell out of me - again! Stop doing that, my heart can only take so much!” You reached for the remote. “How the hell did you even turn that on? I was sure I left it on the ta-” you cut off, reeling your hand back as Buddy jumped atop the device, blocking you from it.

You blinked, confused, “Are… you watching that?”

He squawked in confirmation.

“You are not a normal bird.”

He seemed happy at your realization, fluffing his feathers and stepping off the remote, laying down next to it, and returning his gaze to the screen.

“Whatever, I’m up now. Guess I’ll make breakfast.”

He gave an excited chirp at the suggestion.

“Yeah, yeah. Yours too.”

You joined the fowl on the couch while you ate, giving him another bowl of boiled meat – which he ate disgruntledly.

“I’ll have to swing by the store after work, see how much discount meat I can get you… wonder if the pet store will take back a barely used bag of feed…”

You were already getting used to speaking to the bird, speaking aloud your random thoughts as you went about your morning routine. Cleaning up, giving him his meds, prepping his food and water for while you were gone. You were enjoying the addition he was adding to your day and being able to talk to someone as well – especially since he did provide a type of reply. You enjoyed it so much so that you were reluctant when your alarm for work went off.

“Back to the grind,” you sighed, trudging to your bedroom closet to change out of your nightshirt. “ Was a bit chilly yesterday, should get my spare jacket.” You hadn’t gotten a chance to wash the one from the night you saved Buddy, and you weren’t eager to use a bloody jacket. You spotted the spare folded on the closet shelf, resting under a box.

You pulled the clothing free while doing your best to keep the box in place – your best wasn’t good enough, since just as you were sure it was free, it snagged, and the box joined in the escapade. You tumbled to the ground as the object hit you, its contents partially falling out onto you and the floor.

“Owww,” you whined, rubbing your butt. After regaining yourself, you examined the mess you had created and instantly regretted trying to retrieve the spare jacket, your eyes tearing up at the box’s contents.

It was just a random assortment of objects, all-male ordinated – a razor, a pair of jeans and two t-shirts, a hairbrush, some socks, and other miscellaneous items.

“Dammit…” you mumbled, trying to hold back sobs. With everything that had happened the past two days you had actually forgotten the damn thing was in your closet for the first time in months.

Your self-pity was interrupted as you felt something soft press against your arm. You looked over and saw Buddy standing beside you looking concerned, the sound from the tumble must have drawn him into your room to check on you.

“I’m okay… I’m not crying ‘cause I’m hurt. Promise,” you inhaled deeply, trying to steady your nerves, and started collecting the fallen items back into the box. “It’s a bit silly to cry over.”

He tilted his head in question.

“It’s just some stuff my ex left behind. I should just burn it…” Maybe because you were so used to just saying whatever you wanted to the hawk, you kept following the train wreck of your thoughts, “He cheated on me but somehow worked it to him being the one to break up when I confronted him. I should be glad he’s gone but… here I am, pining over some asshole and his discarded laundry.” Despite your best effort, you started sobbing, “How pathetic am I-”

Buddy pressed into your arm once again, cutting the tirade, and gave a small coo.

You pulled the bird into your arms, holding him close and pressing your face into him, your tears rolling over the water-proof feathers. You stayed like that for a time, buddy not even trying to pull from your embrace. You let him slip from you, your sobs dying away. You felt tired and wanted to crawl back in bed, but work was waiting.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, rubbing Buddy’s cheek. You finished gathering the items, stood, and stared at the box.

Just throw it away.

Your grip trembled as you held it.

Get rid of it.

You slid the box back onto the shelf.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured, glancing away from the concerned hawk.

Time slipped by after that, a new routine being built around your new roommate. You had moments of conflict due to his strange personality, but overall, you enjoyed having him in your home. Even with the dip into your finances that he caused, between meat and clinic visits. Another interesting addition to your day was how your mornings always had a little surprise from him. Mainly him doing something to jolt you awake since he seemed to be a very early riser.

This morning, however, had one of your preferred surprises, your eyelids felt heavy as your brain booted up and registered the light snoring that was taking place next to you. You blinked, looking around for the source, and found the fowl resting next to you, on his back feet in the air and head lolling, on an open pillow.

Giving a sheepish grin, you watched him for a bit, seeing him twitch in his sleep. You had come to terms with his abnormal behavior, your research into the breed showing he did not act like other red-tails or even just other birds in general.

“Buddy,” you purred, reaching over and shaking a talon lightly.

His eyes popped open and then blinked slowly, fighting away his own sleepiness. He turned over and quivered, his feathers fluffing and head jerking.

“Morning.” You giggled, enjoying the show, before turning in the bed and burying your face into the pillow, reluctant to get up. Looking back at him, you saw him observing you intently. Just another thing you’d gotten used to, the way he seemed to examine you up and down with a focused gaze randomly.

You gave a smirk, peering back through your messy hair before pushing yourself up to sit on your knees and stretching your arms up above your head, your joints popping satisfactorily. As always with your nightshirt, it raised with the motion, exposing your thighs to view.

Buddy rolled as you stretched, your movement causing him to be displaced from his resting place, his head landing softly against those thighs as they cushioned the tumble.

“That wasn’t convincing at all,” you laughed, tugging the shirt to the side to lock eyes with the endearing avian. He was very affectionate, finding any way he found to cuddle with you when possible. With a yawn, you checked your phone for the time and saw a reminder on the lock screen. “Oh right! We better get ready; we have the vet appointment today. Your wing should be all healed up!”

As always, the hawk gave a human-like reaction, quickly straightening himself and giving an excited shriek at the announcement.

Buddy wouldn’t stop extending his freed wing as he rested on the perch at the front desk while you signed the paperwork for the visit.

“Calm down, you,” you laughed, glad to see him so happy.

“So, you really plan to keep him?” The nurse asked, grinning at the sight of the overjoyed bird as well.

“I mean… his owner hasn’t been found and he’s not a wild bird. I’ve gotten used to him, so it just seemed best?”

“I think it’s great. He’s lucky you found him. Uh, do you have a leash?”

Buddy flapped and shrieked in disapproval at the remark.

“I saw bird leashes were a thing, but he’s so well behaved I wasn’t sure I should get one?”

“I get your reasoning, but he could fly off, he’s already gotten lost and in trouble once.”

“That’s true…” you looked Buddy over, seeing his hunched shoulders, “Do I need to leash you, bud?”

With a quick flap, he glided off the perch and onto your shoulder, being careful not to cut you with his talons as he steadied himself.

“Wow, you have him wrapped around your finger.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” You decided, scratching Buddy’s chin.

Finishing off the paperwork you exited the clinic, the hawk still perched on your shoulder, sure you were an interesting sight for those you passed. You walked with an eye on your phone, swiping through various avian products.

“We should get you proper stuff, perches, and such, for the apartment. We’ve been making do with the makeshift setup, but now that you’re staying we should-”

He shifted harshly, drawing your attention to him. He was staring intensely down the street, where a store had various televisions on display in a window, an assortment of shows airing with captions turning on. You sighed and approached the display, knowing the bird’s inclination for news. Sure enough, his preferred channel was airing on one of the displays.

“Just for a minute, okay?” you stated, returning to your shopping as he stared at the moving pictures. You kept your word and started to move shortly after, but Buddy gave a loud shriek in protest when you did so, his eyes still focused on the display. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?” You looked at the screen, finally paying attention to the content.

“-the villain has been in a coma since the intense battle with Hawks, so he has yet to be able to answer any questioning as to the whereabouts of the missing number two hero and the other heroes that disappeared-”

You let out a surprised hiss as you felt Buddy’s talons dig into your shoulder, it didn’t hurt thanks to the padding of your coat, but it caught you off guard after how careful he always was. However, before you could reprimand the action, he launched himself and flapped his wings quickly, taking off into the air.

You stared at the hawk as he soared, at first impressed by the way he moved so easily after just getting the wrapping removed, then distraught as you saw him continue to fly away.

“…Buddy?”

——Tag List ——

(Please check this post if you would like to be included!)

@thisisthehardestthing​ @cheeriecherry​ @mindninjax​

[talesofesther]

Anchor - Part 9

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes

A/N: This part is really sweet, I liked it, and I think it has a reeeally nice flow to it. The idea I initially had for this was entirely different but as I was writing things just happened and it turned out like this. I changed it a couple of times to fit Five's character so I hope it's good enough. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know. ♥

Y/N took slow steps into the filthy place. In every sense, this place defined everything she didn't like. Sweaty and rich men were screaming at the top of their lungs, swinging their money around, urging incessantly for the men on the ring to fight to the death, or at least until they're unconscious. The dim light and downright bad structure made everything look even worse. Like the ones fighting were more animals than humans. Y/N felt nothing but uncomfortable here.

It was hard to believe that it was Luther the one on the ring, this didn't feel worthy of him. Or anyone for that matter. The man Luther was fighting with was big, but somehow he still managed to be bigger.

However, he wasn't fighting back. At some point he started to take all the hits, his face starting to become bloody, and he still asked for more.

"What's he doing?" Y/N asked, on edge with the scene unfolding before her.

"I don't know" Five said as he gripped the fence tighter. "Luther are you crazy? Just hit him!"

Everyone was yelling the same thing to him, to fight back. But he didn't, and with one last punch, Luther went flying and landed on the ground. Blood coming out of his mouth, sweat all over his body, but he looked weirdly pleased. That's one scene Y/N would never imagine happening.

Slowly, the people started to leave the horrible place. Everyone seeming equally surprised by the outcome of the fight. Five, Y/N, and Vanya were currently standing outside.

"We need to speak with him" Five insisted, his hands on his pockets while his foot hit the ground anxiously.

"I know Five, but I think everyone has had quite enough for today. Especially him, we can come here first thing tomorrow morning" Y/N tried to reason with him as it was pretty clear that Luther was in no shape to talk right now.

"I agree with her, I have to go back to the farm" Vanya stepped into the conversation. She looked weirdly naive for someone that already caused an apocalypse. Everyone makes mistakes, I guess. Y/N thought.

Five let out a long sigh, he was clearly impatient and not at all happy with the decision. "Alright, fine. First thing tomorrow morning, be here Vanya". Then he turned to Y/N. "Let's go".

_________

It was a little late already, so Elliott's place was dark. Everyone was probably asleep already, so, at the moment, Y/N and Five were the only ones up. She turned on one of the table lamps in the living room, it did a poor job of illuminating the place, but it was all she needed. The darkness did help with calming her nerves anyway. The girl threw herself on the comfy couch and let out a sigh, closing her eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

But not a second later, a bright light hit her face, making her frown and let out an annoyed groan. Five had to disturb her peace by turning on the light in the kitchen.

Y/N slowly turned her head to his direction, an unpleasant look on her face. "Why do you have to drink so much coffee?" The girl asked in a lazy and unamused tone.

Five only glanced at her form on the couch and turned his eyes back to his mug, a small smirk on his face.

Scoffing, Y/N turned her head towards the ceiling and muttered "rude".

"This... Can harm you, you know?" The girl got up from the couch and made her way to Five with slow steps. A malicious grin was adorning her slightly parted lips, making Five almost drop his mug.

The boy raised one of his eyebrows at her, shifting from one foot to the other but never looking away from her figure.

"Yeah, high blood pressure. Anxiety. Insomnia. Rapid heart rate. The list goes on" stopping with just a small distance between them, Y/N crossed her arms. Taking the opportunity to eye Five up and down. He was just a little taller than her, his eyebrows always a little frowned in concentration, his soft hair perfectly falling above his eyes, and his knuckles slowly going white while holding the mug. "I'm afraid you're gonna break that if you grip any tighter" Y/N said in a whisper as her gaze lazily moved from his mug to his eyes.

Five let out a nervous chuckle, almost forgetting how to breathe. What is she doing? She's... Different. Were the only things in his confused mind. Her words, the way she was holding herself, her body so close to him. It made him feel uneasy, and yet he wanted her even closer.

"Are you drunk?" Was the only thing he could say without losing his composure.

That made Y/N finally go back to her normal self as she let out a genuine laugh and walked away from him, back to sit on the couch. Apparently very amused with the way she made him feel.

Five sighed as he shook his head at her. This girl. He slowly followed her steps, sitting beside her on the couch, putting a reasonable distance between them. His mug firmly in his hand.

"No. But I am exhausted, which is... Basically the same thing" Y/N said, once Five made himself comfortable beside her.

Five brought his mug to his lips and took a sip, a small smile on his face. "You're weird".

That made Y/N fully turn her body to him, sitting sideways on the couch. She faked an offended expression and said "excuse me sir. Compared to you and your family I'm the definition of normal". Without even finishing, Y/N was already laughing.

Five chuckled and looked down at his lap to his half-empty coffee mug. "Fair enough" he whispered to her. Y/N made him feel incredibly light, free. But his mind always went back to the same place, playing cruel tricks on him. You don't deserve this. It's not real. How would she like someone like you? Those were the thoughts that often came to Five's head whenever he felt like letting her in. Just like now.

It all still hurts so much, and he's not even sure why. He wants her company so badly, and he has it now. So why does it feel like someone is squeezing his chest?

To Five it was nothing but confused emotions. But the truth is that he craves all of this so much. The touch, the conversation, the connection with someone real. That he's terrified that it isn't real, that in the blink of an eye everything will just end and she'll leave. Or worse, die. He felt alone for so long and now she was making him feel cared for, she was giving him everything he craved for so long and he just wanted it to be... Real. But what if this was all in his head and in one wrong movement or word he drove her away?

And it all made Five feel so overwhelmed all of a sudden. His mouth became dry, his throat felt annoyingly tight. That he missed the small tear that scaped his eye and made its way down his cheek.

But Y/N noticed. She noticed how his hands holding the mug started to tremble, how his breathing was fast and shallow, and how his eyes remained on his mug, but his stare was so lost and far away. Y/N was familiar with anxiety and panic attacks, and maybe this wasn't exactly the case here, but it was definitely something along those lines.

So the girl carefully took the mug from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. Then, ever so gently, she sat a little closer to Five. His face looked troubled and his eyes were glossy with tears in them. It broke her heart to see him like this. Y/N slowly brought her hand up and brushed away the one tear that had fallen on his soft cheek.

Her touch made Five finally turn in her direction and be aware of what just happened. He was about to full-on panic because he just cried in front of Y/N. His whole body tensed and he was preparing himself to teleport away or just make a run for it. But then her hand remained there for the next couple of seconds, her thumb lazily caressing his cheek, a kind smile on her lips. And he couldn't bring himself to move a muscle.

Y/N could visibly see the exact moment he came back to reality and realized what happened, and only when she saw that he wasn't going to disappear on her, that she removed her hand from him. She could tell he felt vulnerable right now and it was obvious this wasn't a common feeling for him. The entire way he was portraying himself right now was totally uncharacteristic of him, and Y/N knew that. Hence why he looked like he had seen a ghost. She wasn't going to ask why he was suddenly like this, it wasn't her place to pry.

The living room was still partially dark, making them both feel shielded from the real world.

"Have I ever told you the story about this scar?" Y/N's voice had a very low tone, only for him to hear and to not break the intimate aura of the room. Five's body was still tense, feeling himself lost as he had no idea what to do with himself now. But he looked down at her hand.

Y/N showed him the scar that had hunted her for many years. It wasn't big, it ran from the end of her palm and just some inches past her wrist, and it was clear that it was from being burned.

Her voice remained gentle as she said "I got it from the night that I lost my parents". The girl looked up at Five with a sad smile on her face. He met her eyes as well, his lip would occasionally quiver but his eyes looked more focused already. Y/N's attempt to drive his mind away from whatever it was that was bothering him was working.

"There was a fire in our house, it spread quickly. I was just... A little girl, terrified, I had no idea what was happening." Y/N furrowed her brows as she vaguely remembered that night. Five's attention was almost fully on her again.

"I could hear people arguing, fighting. Then my mom... She found me and told me to run, as fast as I could. I didn't want to leave her, but I did. While I was getting out I... Burned my hand, at the time I was so scared that I didn't even felt it." Now it was her eyes that were filling with tears. But before they could spill, she felt a feather-like touch tracing her scar. The fact that Five was willingly reaching out to her sent a shiver running down Y/N's spine.

Brushing her tears away, she continued "the- the day after, I found out that my parents had died. So, from then on my aunt raised me. Every day I would ask myself the same question 'why didn't my mother run away with me'?" Y/N chuckled. "Guess I'll never know".

She rested her head on the back of the couch, her eyes looking at Five in an adoring way. He looked calmer, which made a small smile come up to her face.

Five gulped. "I'm sorry about that" he said with a wavering voice. He felt ashamed, vulnerable, and confused. But he felt no desire to leave her, on the contrary, he carefully moved his hand down from her wrist and grabbed her hand properly. His grip was unsure, afraid even, but he remained there anyway. His eyes frantically searching her face for any signs of disapproval, but he only found... Affection. That made his eyes water all over again.

"Me too" Y/N said in a barely audible whisper. She gripped his hand tighter, and with a smile, leaned her head down to rest on Five's shoulder. "We'll be okay, Five" with this last whisper, the girl closed her tired eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Five took a shaky breath, wondering what to do. After some seconds of looking around the room and debating with himself whether or not he should be there, he decided to let himself have this one night. His touch-starved body needed this more than he would ever care to admit. His fears and insecurities disappeared for now, and the only thing he could feel was her. Her hand holding his, her body pressed close to him, and her steady breath on his neck. Slowly, he nuzzled his face on her hair. Closing his eyes, more tears fell. He wasn't sure why, he never was, but now he was too tired to think about it.

Five didn't have any nightmares that night.

When Y/N woke up the next day, she was laying in a very uncomfortable position on the couch. Alone. Rubbing her eyes the girl got up and looked around the empty room, the events of last night slowly making their way back to her brain.

The girl made her way to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water when suddenly a blue light appeared and almost made her drop her glass. "Jesus Five" Y/N muttered while cleaning the drops of water she spilled on herself.

Five didn't expect her to be up already, his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. The... Moment they shared last night made him confused about where their relationship stood, it also made him think if he had crossed any boundaries by staying with her for the night. He thought about why she decided to stay with him too, why would she? He clenched and unclenched his fists in his pockets in anxiousness. He felt so much, and he felt that his control was slipping from him more each passing day.

Putting her glass down, Y/N made her way to him. "Did you sleep well?" A small smile making it's way to her face, testing the waters.

Five met her eyes and gulped down his feelings. "We need to go see Luther". And with that, he turned around and left.

Y/N chuckled. Okay, so we're not talking about it.

"Sure" she adjusted her clothes and followed Five outside.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. All opinions and feedback are appreciated ♥

Taglist

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[myreygn]

Intimacy

thanks for your patience with me @ticklishfrog and i hope this piece can make up for the wait! this is a post for @ticklishraspberries femslashfeburary fic exchange and i’m a little late but alas, at least it’s here now!

prompt: Margaery is getting a new gown fitted, and can't stop giggling. Sansa asks her about it and finds out she's ticklish. (i changed the asking part a bit, i hope that’s not ruining it for you ^^’)

wordcount: 2188

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“M-Marge, stop it!”, Sansa blushed like crazy and tried to shove the insatiable lips away from her neck, but the brunette was relentless. Her hands wrapped around the younger one's waist and pulled her closer, lips still at her neck, making her shiver. “Marge! Not now!”

“Why not?” Margaery rested her chin on Sansa's breasts and looked up at her with big, shimmering brown eyes. “Am I not allowed to kiss my beloved when I want to? What kind of world is this?”

“That kind where you're engaged to a king who's just waiting for me to give him a reason to kill me and who'll get one pretty soon if the tailors walk in on us being intimate with each other.”

Margaery sighed and shuffled away a bit. “Fair point. Let me at least brush your hair. I don't think Joffrey can punish you for beauty care.” She grabbed a hair brush, then positioned behind Sansa.

The red head showed one of those rare, soft smiles that her brothers used to drag out of her by inappropriately fooling around and that were now an expression only Margaery got to see, and leaned back into the light contact of the hair brush. Being with Margaery was exciting and relaxing at the same time. She had learned to love the little smirks the about-to-be-queen threw her way, had learned to close her eyes around her and to fully indulge in her touches, to trust her enough to let her do things with her body she hadn't imagined someone doing since Sandor Clegane had saved her from the men who had tried to rape her. But Margaery was different. Margaery was sweet and gentle and never did anything to make Sansa uncomfortable. Margaery was simply everything she had wished for in Joffrey and she felt blessed by the Seven to have her here in King's Landing.

A careful knock on the door made Sansa flinch and almost immediately she felt Margaery's hand on her shoulder, reassuring and calming. She relaxed against the brunette's chest for a moment. “You're so good to me”, she whispered and breathed in Margaery's scent. “I just wish I could give something back to you.” Margaery chuckled. “You're here, aren't you? That's really all I need.”

It knocked again, louder this time, and they heard a woman's voice asking from the other side of the door: “My lady? Are you in there? The tailors are here.” Margaery stood up. “Let them in!”

She was already only wearing her underwear, welcoming the tailors with a wide smile. “Good morning, come in! I hope you don't mind Lady Sansa joining us?”

Said Lady Sansa gave the servants a gentle nod when they bowed and claimed how happy they were to have her here with the king's fiancee and she knew they were telling the truth; who wouldn't happily take the opportunity to spend time with the scandalous northern traitor-daughter?

But Margaery did not seem to be willing to throw her beloved to the wolves just like that. Chatting and joking she kept the tailors' attention focused on her, showing interest in the draperies they used and complimenting their skills, praising the results and asking them, who made which one of her favorite dresses she had in the closet. An hour passed by, another and the tailors seemed to have fully forgotten about Sansa, Margaery's kind smile and her sweet words and how stunning she looked, even in just the draperies. From time to time she smiled at Sansa and the redhead had never felt so safe and happy since she had left the North. Margaery was here. Margaery would look out for her.

The dress was beautiful. And even though Sansa felt amazement at the sight of all the unfinished, yet dazzling outfit, she couldn't help but being immensely relieved that it wasn't her who would have to wear it. No, it was Margaery and Sansa felt sorry immediately – how could she be so egoistic to be happy about the marriage? Not that she was really happy, of course she would've rather had Margaery all to herself, but it felt good to know that Joffrey wouldn't have her like that.

“Something like that”, the first tailor, a man named Rusko with a harsh bravosian accent, said and plucked at the high collar. “We'll probably make this more round”, his hands wandered down to the light silk lying on the lady's shoulders, “and maybe we'll just leave that out, it's distracting. And here –”, his hand gave Margaery's waist a light squeeze and he was cut off by a giggle. He looked up to her confused, but she waved his gaze off with twitching lips. “It's nothing, please continue.”

Rusko did as asked, explained how they'd change the dress, how loose or tight it would be in certain areas and where the embroidery would go, constantly accompanied by giggles and twitches from Margaery. She seemed to quiet literally tremble under the careful touches and while the tailors clearly ignored it, Sansa's thoughts wandered to the memories she had from a long time ago.

Robb pressing Jon to the ground and squeezing his ribs rapidly until the bastard was crying with laughter. Jon, Arya and Bran ganging up on Robb, making him scream through the whole castle. Robb and Jon tickling Arya and Bran to make them listen to them. Bran and Robb carefully tickling Rickon to cheer him up. Sansa herself had never been part of their little games; Arya had tried to include her once but had gotten screamed at by Septa Mordane who had been convinced that this would be no appropriate behavior for a lady. Sansa had always enjoyed watching her siblings from afar though. A smile parted her lips.

It took the tailors another hour until everything was sorted out and they grabbed their stuff to leave, not without looking at Sansa, disappointed – understandable, they practically threw away their shot to squeeze out the biggest scandal in all of Kings Landing. Margaery had done a good job distracting them from it and came now over to Sansa as soon as they were alone again. “Everything alright?”

Instead of an answer, Sansa stood up and reached for Margaery who quirked an eyebrow – it wasn't very alike for the Stark girl to seek physical contact in such an open way, but who was she to refuse to hug her beloved? A happy grin spread across her lips as the king's fiancee literally hopped into the open arms, pulled Sansa over to the bed and let herself fall on it, pulling the younger one with her. They shuffled around a bit until everything was comfortable, then Sansa sat on Margaery's hips and smirked down at her.

The about-to-be-queen folded her arms behind her head and grinned. “I like where this is going!”

“Oh do you?”, Sansa asked softly, laying her hands on Margaery's sides and stroking up and down over the thin dress. She waited until the brunette had fully relaxed into the touch, then she gave her unprotected torso a few rapid squeezes.

Margaery's eyes literally bulged out of her head and she quickly darted down to grab the attacking hands. “Wha-AH! Sansa! Naha ah!” She squirmed, bucking her hips, but Sansa's seat was steady.

“What is it, Marge?” More squeezes, dragging a few chuckles out of the other girl. “Are you hurt? Wait, let me check for bruises.” She began to poke up an down Margaery's sides and all over her tummy. “Where does it hurt the most? Here? Or here? Marge, you need to talk to me!”

Sansa smiled, noticing Margaery's surprise because of the unusual behavior as well as her hands still grabbing Sansa's wrists but not pushing her away – also she hadn't said Stop once yet! The Stark girl wasn't really sure how to read that, but at least she had by now figured out why she was behaving so strange herself: Margaery always comforted and took care of her and Sansa remembered tickling to be something fun – this was her chance to reward her beloved! Now, back to the hands...

“So it doesn't hurt, hm? It must be tickling then – are you ticklish, Marge?” The brunette shot her a glance through the laughter and flushed cheeks, clearly saying something like 'Well, what do you think?!'. Sansa nodded slowly and allowed herself another smirk, making Margaery blush even more. “I see. And say, do you like it? I'm just asking because you're not trying to stop me.”

“I-I doho!”, Margaery gasped and Sansa raised an eyebrow, surprised – she knew that Robb had always liked it too, but she also remembered how long it had taken Jon and Theon to make him admit that every time. But alright, Robb wasn't Margaery and Highgarden seemed to have its very own policy with intimacy anyways.

“I see. So you don't mind if I do this, do you?” Sansa grabbed her prey's hips and began to massage deep circles with her thumbs into the prominent bones, a technique she had seen Arya using to Jon  and with Margaery it appeared to work just as well. The brunette shrieked and bubbly laughter escaped her lips. “Ahanaha Sahahansaa! Ihit tihickles!”

“Yes, you know, that's kind of the point, Marge”, the Stark girl proclaimed sweetly, letting her hands explore more of her beloved's beautiful body. Said beloved giggled breathy. “Buhut I dohNAHA SEHEVEN HELLSAHAH!”

Sansa almost took her hands off – almost. She hadn't expected this kind of reaction from the usually so calm and collected lady but fine, nothing to be bothered by.

“Oh? Your thighs, hm? Is this a good spot?” She continued to squeeze the soft flesh, making Margaery shriek and weakly kick her legs. A tear rolled down her reddened cheek. “Pleahaese!”

“Please what?”, Sansa imitated a phrase that Theon had often used on Robb and Jon. Now she had to pay attention – if Margaery told her to stop, it would be serious since she had refused to say it yet, but if she just repeated herself, Sansa could continue. That's what she had observed in her siblings' tickle fights and Margaery seemed to enjoy herself, so Sansa didn't by all means want to do something wrong and make her uncomfortable.

It appeared she didn't have to worry about it; neither did Margaery say Stop nor did she begin to cry like Bran did once. On the contrary, she squirmed into the touch rather than away from it, making Sansa smile and doubling her efforts. After a minute though, Margaery seemed to be out of breath and more tears followed so Sansa slowed down. “Too much?”

“A-a bihit”, the brunette giggled, then smiled widely. “But ihit's fun!”

“Where do you want me to tickle you then?” As inexperienced as Sansa was, as good did Margaery seem to know about this particular preference of hers and working together could improve this experience further for both of them. Sansa had noticed that she had a lot of fun with this as well and it took their relationship to a whole new dimension – not only regarding the kinds of intimacy, but also her chance to grasp the nettle of their interactions from time to time.

Margaery thought about it for a bit, probably to take the chance and catch her breath, then raised her arms above her head and looked at Sansa promptly. “But be nice, will you?”

“Of course, dear, why would I not?” Sansa smiled, glad that she hadn't crossed any boundaries, and lightly scribbled over the smooth skin of Margaery's armpits, making the brunette giggle and grasp the bed sheets. “Quiet sensitive here, aren't you?”, the redhead mumbled. As an answer, Margaery just leaned back further and purred between the giggles.

Sansa chuckled with her, continuing the soft touches for a bit more until Margaery squeaked and took her arms down, panting and keeping her eyes shut. Sansa handed her some water and let her sit up, giving her the time to recover. Margaery took it gratefully, then smirked at her. “Now where the hells did that come from?”

The Stark girl shrugged her shoulders. “I told you already today: you're always so good and sweet and I wanted to give something back. Then I saw you twitch at the tailors' touches and it wasn't hard to conclude what made you flinch. My siblings always did it and I thought it might be fun.”

“It was, it was!” Margaery laughed. “But you were so teasy, it was... a bit out of character.”

“Well, I had the best teacher”, Sansa said and Margaery beamed with pride. “Oh, did you?”

Sansa nodded seriously. “Theon Greyjoy.”

“Oh, you!”, the brunette cried and threw her onto the bed, climbing on top of her. “How about a taste of yours and Theon's”, she frowned, “own medicine then, hm?” Her expression softened at the excited yet nervous look on Sansa's face. “I'll be gentle. Promise.”

Sansa nodded.

[kuroos-moon]

When Tragedy Becomes of Blooming Romance

pairing: Akaashi x reader

genre/s: fluff to angst

— Falling in love is dreamy and all, especially when it’s with Akaashi Keiji; but the probable pain of parting could be twice the amount of the happiness, couldn’t it? 

seven months ago

“Akaashi-kun! I can sit here right?” Your eyes bright as they meet his sleepy ones. That was the first time you ever spoke to him, though definitely not the first time he took notice of you. 

He rubs his eyes, not fully believing that you of all people would talk to him this fine and early morning. “Uh, sure,” he mutters, subtly scanning the room only to see there were too many available seats aside from the one beside him. 

He looks at you as you give him a toothy smile along with a short thankful nod, placing your bag on your desk and taking a seat. “Ohayo,” he says under his breath, causing you to snap your head towards his direction. “Ah! Sorry I forgot to greet you!” You apologize, face flustered. “It’s alr-”

“Ohayo Akaashii!” You cut him off, causing him to seal his lips shut. You were indeed loud, but you made him smile too— internally at least. He nods at you before turning away, placing his chin on top of his hand as he glanced outside. 

You mimic his actions, though you weren’t glancing outside, you were looking at him, the both of you finding what you see beautiful nonetheless. “Y/n-chan?” He softly says, the sound of your name out from his lips leaving you surprised, your cheeks now tinted with pink. 

His voice sounded too sweet and fragile, too quiet for you to hear but loud enough to drown out the sound of your own heartbeat; nothing less to be expected from Akaashi Keiji, the quiet boy you loved to admire from afar.

 “I was wondering why you sat beside me,” he says, and you decided then and there that his voice would be your calm and destruction all at the same time. 

“I was feeling gutsy today,” you say before thinking your words through, “finally had the courage,” you add, swearing your mouth just spews out things on its own sometimes. Embarrassed, you shift on your seat, fidgeting with your fingers as you now look the other way. 

“I see,” is all you hear him say. 

Classes start, things have been a bore so far, not to mention your short attention span. The last period before lunch draws in, and to your dismay, you had to write an essay about what made you happy— there’s a lot, how were you supposed to fit your ideas in?! 

Akaashi begins writing, wasting no time as he scribbles his thoughts down elegantly and with ease. His attention’s shifted as he hears you groan from beside him, rummaging through your bag; his eyes drifting to the blank sheet on your desk, he assumes you probably lost your pen. 

As to not disturb the quiet room, he merely pokes your side gently with his pen, eyeing you as you look at him in surprise. “Than-” you purse your lips immediately when he brings a finger to his lips to remind you to be quiet. “Thank you,” you whisper as the butterflies go wild in your stomach when your fingers slightly brush the setter’s soft ones. 

He’s done with his essay, not really feeling like submitting ahead because he’d be the first one. He takes his leisurely time to observe his surroundings— wait no, who cares about his surroundings? He wanted to observe you, as if he hasn’t done it enough ever since highschool. 

“Wait, I forgot to include my dogs,” you mumble to yourself, an involuntary small smile immediately finding its way to his lips. Adorable as always, y/n-chan. You weren’t doing anything special, you were simply writing, stopping every once in a while as you were in obvious thought before you happily scribble down again.

His brows raise and his lips part, a surge of too overwhelming feelings filling his chest. It was unfair, however ordinary you act, you made him feel too much, like how you take in the sunrise through the city’s edge, and the sunsets that reddened the blue sea. 

“Akaashi-kun,” you say his name, Akaashi setting aside the emotions that literally came out of nowhere. “Are you done with yours?” You ask, fighting the tingles you felt as you look each other in the eyes for seconds too long. 

He shortly nods, looking away from you. “Then shall we hand it in together?” You ask, sounding hopeful. You didn’t even have to ask twice as he wordlessly gets up from his seat, too flustered to utter another word; waiting for you to get up as well so you could walk up front with him behind you. 

four months ago 

“Keeijjjiii!” You scream, an instant smile forming on his lips at your loud voice as he gets some books from his locker. “Keiji,” you say again, now standing beside him, slightly leaning on the locker beside his. 

“Ohayo, y/n-chan,” he greets without looking at you. You slightly pout at the nonchalant lad before you, opening his locker door wider so that you could see his face. “Ohayo, love of my life,” you smile brightly and he offers you a slight chuckle in response. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” He asks you after finally closing his locker. “Yes sir,” you grin and he nods in approval before the both of you make your way to class. He may not have known you knew, but you were very much well aware of how he was secretly placing a hand underneath your bag to lighten its weight on your shoulders. 

“What are you smiling about?” He asks, glancing down at you. “You,” you say with no shame, it’s been like this everyday anyway; constant flirting and Keiji brushing them off thoughtlessly. 

He sighs at the look on your face, a smile now on his lips when you looked away from him. “You make me smile too, y/n-chan,” he says, looking ahead and maybe overthinking a little too much whether he should take it back or not. “I know,” you smugly say, and all he could do was laugh a little as you put him at ease like how you always do. 

two months ago

“I told you not to wait,” he sighs, your arms wrapping around his waist as you hug him from behind. “It’s already late y/n,” he mumbles, holding your hands in his to warm them up. “I’m sweaty too,” he adds, stroking his thumb over your skin. 

“Y/n?” He asks in concern, you were oddly silent, staying still as you rested your forehead on the back of his shoulder. “Keiji, I need a hug,” you meekly say and he immediately knew something was wrong. “I’m sorry for popping in all of a sudden after your practice,” the guilt in yout voice making his heart clench, he doesn’t want you to feel bad about it. 

He untangles your hold on him before he turns around to face you, hugging you against himself. “It’s okay,” he mutters, leaning down to your ear, “I needed your hug too.” 

You both stay in that position for a while, Akaashi patiently waiting for you to tell him what’s wrong and you knew he was expecting you to. “I love you Keiji,” you say, your voice muffled and you could easily feel him tense and freeze up against you. 

“For real, I’m in love with you,” you whisper, your hand clutching on his shirt tightly as you nervously await his response. He lets out another sigh, and you had no idea in hell whether it was a good thing or not. “And I loved you first y/n,” he says, lips brushing lightly against your ear. 

one month ago 

“I’ll head to practice,” he informs you, ruffling your hair as you both stood on the last step of the stairs. “Don’t strain too much,” you pinch his cheek, Akaashi quick to pull your hand away before he nods at you. 

“I love you,” you call out, watching the flustered Keiji turn on his heel to face you once again as his ears turn pink in embarrassment. “Y/n lower your voice next time,” he lightly scolds, but you return his look with a pout, “don’t you love me?” 

“I love you, y/n,” he says in a quiet voice, “then ask me out already,” you stick your tongue out at him but he only smiles, his eyes holding all the love in the world as they look at you. 

three weeks ago 

Bokuto sighs from beside him. “What’s wrong Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks, looking at the seemingly depressed owl that sat beside him on the bench during their break. 

“Promise you won’t laugh at me Akaashi,” he pouts and the former nods at him. “There’s this girl, she’s majestic, she’s really really pretty and nice,” he sadly says, looking down on the floor. “What’s the problem?” 

“Y/n L/n’s too good for me,” Bokuto sighs, head falling back, oblivious to the fact that Akaashi had short-circuited almost immediately. “You guys are pretty close, can you tell me what kind of stuff she likes? I talked to her a few times when she waits for you in here,” he pouts, looking at his friend. 

“And I’ve never wanted anyone more than her, Akaashiii,” he dramatically says. “Please say you’ll set us up,” Bokuto puts on his attempt to look like a cute puppy. 

Akaashi clears his throat, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll see what I can do, Bokuto-san,” he says in a low voice, guilt, hurt and confusion making it hard for him to breathe all of a sudden. 

present

Bokuto grins down at you, as you laughed at the joke he just said. “Do you wanna watch me practice later, y/n-chan?” He gleefully asks you, excitement in his eyes but you couldn’t help the sad expression you wore at his words when you remember Akaashi. 

“It’s okay! Totally okay if you don’t want to,” he nervously puts his hands up before him. You were about to respond to him when you see the all too familiar raven-haired setter blended in the crowd inside the halls, your eyes glued to the back of his head. 

“I’m sorry I have something to do, talk to you later Bokuto-san!” You hurriedly call off, making your way to Akaashi. “Keiji!” You call, you knew he heard you, but you also knew just as much that he’s pretending to not hear. He’s been ignoring you for almost a month now and you plan to show him just how stubborn you are. 

“Keiji,” you breathe out, momentarily caught off guard when your eyes meet again. He glances down your hand that was holding his, he knew he shouldn’t savor this moment too much but he can’t bring himself to pull away, he missed your too much that it ached for every single second of everyday, a non-stop reminder that he has hurt you and that he was hurting too. 

“Keiji, please, stop this already. Are you really gonna let this on forever?” You desperately say, your brows furrowed as you look up at his eyes that seemingly held no emotion. “I told you y/n, I’m really sorry but I was confused, I don’t want you to wait for me to ask you out— I just can’t imagine myself being that for you,” he softly says. 

“I’m really sorry y/n, you’re just not the one for me,” he says with finality, your teary eyes twisting the blade that pierced his heart. Without thinking he lifts his hand, about to cup your cheek, about to do such a sinful thing— is it really too bad if he kissed you right now? Can he really not be with you? 

“Akaashi Keiji, I love you, please don’t do this to me,” you whisper, and he was about to say those words back too. He was so close to pulling you in, to lose himself in you, to have everything back to normal; but from behind you he saw his best friend, the senior he had so much to thank for. 

“I’m sorry y/n.” 

You watch him as he walks away, knowing fully well that when the love of your life Akaashi Keiji decided on something, there was just no turning back. 

[whosaskingwrites]

Fickle Love (Akaashi x Reader x Bokuto)

A/N: So this was supposed to be for Akaashi's birthday...whoops. But its here now lmao ngl I just kinda wrote with no idea in mind and this is what ended happening so yeah. Hope you enjoy and happy late birthday to Akaashi 💞

Details: 7.8 pages 2,758 words

Date: December 8th, 2020

Warnings: Mentions of poly relationships I guess, angst if you squint, Gn! Reader not really a warning but I didn't know where else to put it

Theme: Akaashi wasn't the best when it came to love. Having a habit of ignoring you and burying himself in work. Leading you to turn to Bokuto which leads to some revelations and a question for Akaashi.

Love was a fickle thing Akaashi knew. People fell in and out of love all the time so he never trusted love. He didn't want love he wanted to avoid it. Avoid the heartbreak he was positive would follow. But instead he met you a bright-eyed student in his class. It took almost nothing for you to mesh yourself into his life completely and making yourself comfortable like you belonged there.

It took even less time for you to weasel your way into his heart and make yourself comfortable. Only a year after you'd met and he asked you out deciding that love may not have been as fickle as he thought.

Four years later and he knew he had been wrong love was indeed fickle and his proof was in the sight across the street from him. There you stood hands clasped around Bokuto's as he kissed your cheek. He waved before running off and Akaashi rushed home preparing for the worst.

A few hours later you slipped through the door "Keiji? I'm home!" You called hearing the soft pads of feet come up to you. Love was fickle he knew you were going to lie when he asked his next question "Hey Y/n. What did you do today?" You suprised him though. Only after you'd gotten over the shock of being called Y/n and not darling.

"I went to lunch with Bokuto today," You said happily slipping off your coat and hanging it up. He certainly didn't expect you to be honest about what you did today. He loosened up a tad bit in response "Oh? Why?" You laughed at his question "Bo needs contact with us you know that. But you haven't been answering his calls so we went shopping and I filled him in on how you were. Afterwards I treated him to lunch as a thank you," You smiled up at him eyes bright with nothing hidden.

"Yeah? Did you guys hold hands so he wouldn't lose you?" He joked and you shook your head "He grabbed my hands at the end of lunch because I promised him I'd bring you next time," you had laughed remembering the incident. Relief flooded him then no of course you weren't cheating on him that'd be insane. You were as loyal as Bokuto was plus he couldn't keep a secret to save his life and neither could you. He relaxed as he realized how wrong he was to assume something.

"Im sorry," He said suddenly while you tilted your head in confusion. "What for?" You had asked before Akaashi leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I forgot to give you your welcome home kiss," He rolled off casually hiding the fear he'd felt earlier. This fear had only continued to grow as the days went on but it was his fault anyway.

_______________________________________________________

"Keiji are you free today?" "No I'm busy," "Oh...Okay," 

"Keiji we haven't gone on a date in weeks!" "Im not stopping you from going out somewhere," "I want to go out with you though,"

"Keiji-" "Im busy Y/n,"

Two weeks this cycle continued as you walked to Akaashi's at home office. Two taps against the door and you opened it "Kei-" His eyes snapped up frustration was on his face but he took a breath before it faded. "What?" You sighed turning to leave again "...Im going out to lunch with Kotaro again. He says hi by the way," You left the room quickly and Akaashi blinked 'Kotaro?' Surely you meant Bokuto but there was no way you two were on a first name basis it'd only been a few days since the last lunch.

His eyes landed on the calender and he froze what had only been a few days to him was actually two weeks but still too short for a first name basis. You'd only know Bokuto for a few months and he'd known the male for years and still never used his first name.

He sighed returning to his work. He'd question you when you got back from lunch he didn't have the time to right now. Nor did he know your location so going to find you was like a needle in a haystack. A very big bustling city of a haystack and the needle being you with a slightly bigger needle in the shape of a volleyball player next to you.

He continued work for a few hours before his office door was thrown open. He expected many things when he looked up but he didn't expect Bokuto. But what got him was the fact that Bokuto was furious it was a look he'd never seen before on him. The glare he had on his face was enough to make Akaashi freeze. 

He knew Bokuto was typically happy like a dog but right now he felt fearful since now he staring down an angry German Shepard who was defending their owner. It was silent for a long moment before Bokuto spoke. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Akaashi felt his blood turn to ice at the tone Bokuto used.

"W-what?" He cursed silently at his own stutter Bokuto would latch onto the weakness he showed. "Whats today Akaashi?" Bokuto had asked in that same icy tone. It was so razor sharp and cold that Akaashi was convinced the room cooled and ten degrees.

"...Its December 1st Bokuto-san," He elected to answer the question instead of ask why Bokuto didn't call him Keiji. Based on the mood Bokuto was displaying he didn't expect to be called Keiji. However supplying the date only seemed to rile him up more as his glare sharpened.

Akaashi shivered involuntarily at it "Are you forgetting something?" He barked out and it was then that Akaashi realized Bokuto hadn't blinked yet. "No," he was confident in the answer. Your birthday wasn't until b/d and his was in four days. Bokutos had already passed but said male wouldn't have been mad at him. Sad maybe but not mad.

"Oh really? Then tell me why Y/n is at my place crying because you forgot that today is your anniversary," Bokuto had stepped towards him in anger and Akaashi took in involuntarily step back in fear. "They're at your place?" Akaashi asked and Bokutos jaw clenched.

"Yeah. And they are going to stay there until you sort yourself out," Bokuto growled turning and slamming the door closed with enough force to crack it. Akaashi stood frozen for a few extra moments trying to regain his composure after being afraid. He shook his head as he processed Bokuto's last sentence.

No you'd always come back to him, even if a fight had broken out between him and you, you would always come back. You had to come back he was your fiancé and the wedding was going to be in the upcoming w/f/s/s so he continued to work shaking off his encounter with Bokuto that had manage to worm a tiny bit of fear back into his heart.

__________________________________________________

Akaashi didn't fully leave his office again until December 5th. He'd left it plenty of times before then but only for something quick eat or the bathroom or something to drink. In these moments he never bothered to look around the place but now on his birthday he did.

He expected to be greeted by your sparkling voice like you had done for the past four years but instead the house was silent. "Y/n?" He called out walking around the house was still perfectly clean. The last time he could recall hearing you was on the first with the vacuum running and the patter of your feet running around.

Since then he realizes the house had been silent except for his movements. As he walked into the dining room something glinted on the table in the early morning light. When he turned to look he froze there was your engagement ring. The thin band of silver sat there almost mockingly on a yellow sticky note.

He picked up the note and written on it were a few simple words. 'They aren't coming home - Bokuto' his brain filled in the missing words Bokuto had told him a few days ago "Not until I fix myself," he mumbled thumbing at the sticky in his hands. He knew what Bokuto meant he'd been borderline ignoring you for weeks to work.

Thoughts of your anniversary had left his mind but he didn't think it was that bad until right now. Forgetting had been the final nail in the coffin for you but he still had a chance. You weren't gone forever just temporarily misplaced. He rushed to shower and go buy flowers his brain running a mile a minute trying to figure out how to get you back and apologize.

He felt nervous and he was unsure of why until he remembered where you had taken up residence. Bokuto had never been scary to him, just a bright ball of happiness but the fear Bokuto had instilled in him a few days ago had lingered, and he was about to walk right into the lion's den.

__________________________________________________

He couldn't see you as he approached the door. Maybe you were tucked away upstairs or in a place the windows didn't show but he'd seen Bokuto. The male was pacing clearly on edge and definitely dangerous but Akaashi would have to face him sooner or later so with a shaking hand he knocked.

Only half a second later the door swung open and Bokuto stood there mouth set in a hard line. Akaashi fought to supress the shiver that wanted to trail up his spine. "Is Y/n here?" He asked and once again cursed himself for sounding so meek. It was just Bokuto he wouldn't hurt him the man couldn't even hurt a fly! Although that sentiment didn't hold much when he felt like he was staring down the loaded barrel of a gun.

"Yes," Bokuto answered after a few beats of silence. His eyes raked over Akaashi's form judging him and seeing if he was ready to have Y/n back. "Can I see them? I'd like to talk," He was definitely playing with fire when Bokuto looked back up at his eyes. "About what?" He asked lowly Akaashi noted that Bokuto was staying quiet which meant you had to be downstairs. "I'd like to apologize for ignoring them and forgetting our anniversary," Bokuto nodded once before swinging the door closed.

He blinked in mild suprise "Bo-Bokuto-san?" He questioned wondering where he went wrong that warranted the door being closed. He was about to knock again when the door opened revealing you. Your h/c hair was slightly messy and e/c eyes half lidded in sleep.

What Akaashi didn't like was the MSBY jersey that swallowed you figure. The number 12 emblazoned on the front and long enough to cover your thighs. He couldn't tell if you were wearing pants but he hoped you did. You never walked around his house like this unless it was after a fun night but he couldn't assume things. Not now and he especially couldn't accuse you of cheating when Bokuto was on the staircase right behind you.

He could see that the golden eyed male was poised to attack when the conversation would start heading south. You tilted your head in confusion "Hello Akaashi," You had mumbled and he did flinch then. No pet names or his first name no, you had decided on formal. "Hi darling," He whispered the pet name but you merely shook your head.

"Why are you here?" The genuine confusion on your face made Akaashi feel a lot worse about everything. "Im here to apologize and seeing as its my birthday id like my present from you to be going on one date with me," He said slowly "Please," was tacked on as an afterthought. You turned your head eyes meeting Bokuto's and Akaashi hated the jealousy that crawled up his spine when his eyes softened.

"Um actually Akaashi I wanted to talk to you about something," Your hands had balled into fists tightly gripping the hem of the shirt you wore. A nervous habit you had whenever something scared you. He felt his heart drop in response to those words and you shook your head. "No no! It's nothing bad- well I guess that depends on how you feel about it," You were quick to try and sooth him and Akaashis heart swelled at the fact that right now even if you weren't getting along you still worried about him.

He didn't even realize you had led him inside until he was on the couch. His eyes trailed over you figure as you sat across from him. The shirt rode up enough exposing part of your thigh and Akaashi could see the hem of a pair of shorts. They followed their path until his eyes rested on the new gold band around your ring finger. It was decorated in a series of small gems that were the same blue as his eyes and he took a deep breath.

"What is it?" He lightly questioned when the silence began suffocating him. Bokuto was behind him somewhere he felt the stare being burned into his back. The second this conversation possibly turned south Bokuto was ready to jump in. "Well...I was wondering how you felt about the two of us becoming um...three of us?" You looked down afterwards hands nervously ringing together.

"...three of us?" He wanted more clarification were you implying a kid or something else? You hummed meeting his eyes before they flickered to the male that was behind him 'oh' it pieced itself together then. You were implying a poly relationship with him and Bokuto. He must have been quiet for too long since your hands began rubbing at your sides.

He scrambled for an answer he knew he was unbothered by it but this was...The two of you were only a few months away from getting married and you wanted to add Bokuto into the mix? Now of all times? He took a shuttering breath as he thought.

"Well...I guess I have to call the restaurant and tell them to change the reservation for three people then," he offered a small smile and your head whipped up. "Really?" You whispered and he could only supply a nod. 

"Yeah now when I'm busy with work the both of you can harass me into taking a break," it was a poor attempt at a joke but you had laughed anyway. He heard a chuckle from behind him as well and he breathed out a sigh of relief. "Keiji are you sure? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything...," you trailed off and he smiled "im sure but are you sure about Bokuto? Hes a little chaotic," He asked "Hey!" Bokuto had an immediate reaction to the accusation.

You laughed reaching out and taking his hand "So is it a fancy dinner place?" You asked as Bokuto came over to take your free hand. He watched your thumb move back and forth across Bokutos hand a comforting gesture and he noticed the minute shake of Bokuto's hand. Unconsciously he reached out with his free hand and took Bokuto's which seemed to startle him slightly as wide gold eyes met his.

Akaashi gave a light squeeze and Bokuto settled with a sigh. "Its the restaurant I originally proposed at so yeah I'd go with fancy," he answered after a second. "You're making me get dressed up for your birthday dinner? Despicable really," you dramatically sighed and he found himself laughing. "Well I suppose we don't have to go since you've already given me the best present I could ask for today," He smiled tilting his head to the side and looking at Bokuto who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a look of concern on his face.

"You alright Bo?" He looked up at the unfamiliar nickname eyes meeting Akaashi's once again. "M'fine just...I don't own a suit," He said quietly. The silence that stretched afterwards for a long moment before you broke it. "Kotaro what do you mean you don't own a suit you're a professional athlete!" "It wasn't an issue until now!" He shouted back love was fickle yes but as he watched you and Bokuto interact he knew

It was fickle but he wouldn't trade it in for anything.

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #6: lovesick

(sorry i had to insert these gifs. if this isn’t the taehyung you’re imagining for heatwave, you’re unfortunately wrong.)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first! :)

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: You fall feverishly ill one morning, and the responsibility of looking after you falls onto Taehyung’s lap. Of course, there wouldn’t be a problem with that at all if the both of you weren’t so confused about your feelings for each other.

Genre: drabble, fluff, crack, little angst, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: tsundere!y/n being bratty as usual, boyfriend but not ur boyfriend!taehyung who all our hearts belong to, “I love you so much” (I feel like that should be a warning lol), maybe confession who knows

Word count: 6.5k

A/N: It’s been over a month holy shit. But VOILA! Enjoy the calm before the storm and try not to bust a lung from all these feelings running wild. (requested by my bb @taexxxiiaa​.)

.

Taehyung should have known something was wrong with you when you didn’t protests against him slipping into your room last night and crawling beneath your covers.

Usually, you would at least act like you don’t want him there, complain about his invasion with that trademark eye roll of yours, before snuggling back to his warmth, ass conveniently wiggling onto his poorly-hidden boner. His hands would quickly find your hips, one of them creeping under your shirt to cup your breast, lips latched onto the cradle of your neck. And before either of you knew it, he would be inches deep inside you, both still dressed because impatience and neediness gave way, and shedding of clothing isn’t necessary during copulation anyway.

But last night, all you did was hum a pleasant sigh at his arrival, eyes not even opening as you pull his arm tighter around your waist. Taehyung fell asleep beside you within minutes.

You have been feeling slightly under the weather lately, sniffly nose and funky throat. Most do in the harsh winds of January where winter has still yet to defrost into the floral bloom of spring. But when Taehyung had so much as mentioned the possibility of you maybe having a wee bit of a cold, you had been passionately adamant that you - you - are not one of those commonfolk who catches colds from a slight breeze.

“Do I look like a peasant to you?” You had scoffed in utter dismay at his proposition. The audacity! “I don’t get sick this easily, certainly not before you do. My immune system is superior and that’s a fact.”

However, you are soon to be haunted by your own words because what is a fact is that you are currently shivering in bed beside Taehyung despite your immense radiation of heat, skin scalding to touch, groggy even after ample hours of sleep.

Taehyung is a lazy riser, but your state has spurred his eyes to fly open, springing upright and instantly wide awake. The sheets around you are absolutely drenched in your sweat. As you’re still in the foetal position you had fallen asleep in, he carefully turns you on your back, you hardly rousing from such commotion that would usually wake you up. You would look rather peaceful in your slumber if it weren’t for the perspiration coated all over, damp hair matted to your face, and brows occasionally drawing almost as if in pain. When he places his palm against your forehead, he curses. “Fucking shit.”

You have a fever. That’s just grand, isn’t it? You should have listened when he told you to wear more layers but no, apparently fashion matters so much more than your own health. Superior immune system his ass.

“Hey…” Taehyung nudges your shoulders gently. No response, still shivering in your sleep. “Y/N, wake up.” He prods a little harder this time but, again, to no avail. This isn’t looking good. You’re not even stirring, and he knows you’re much lighter sleeper than he is. Taking your face in his hand, he shakes your face side to side, your heat almost burning his fingers. “Baby, please…”

Nothing.

Cue the panic unleashing in his head.

You have a fucking fever, and you’re unconscious, and you’re shivering like you’re hypothermic, and your forehead feels like a fucking kettle. What the hell is Taehyung supposed to do? He doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t fucking know. You’ve always been the one to look after him. What does he do now? Should he call the police? Wait no, the ambulance. Yes! The ambulance! This is a medical emergency for sure, it has to be!

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table.

But wait.

As his thumbs hover over his screen, he realises that he doesn’t know the number for the ambulance. Is it just the same number as the police? Holy fuck, what does he do? Why is he so incompetent, what the fuck?

“Taehug…” At the sound of your voice, soft and nasal from your blocked nose, he spins around to you, heart leaping out his chest in relief. With one eye barely open, you’ve lifted your head as much as you can, clammy hand reaching for his jumper to tug him to you.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What the fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” Wasting not a second, he dives back to your side, fingers interlocking yours in a motion that’s like second nature to him. Jeez, you’re sweaty. “How are you feeling?”

The pale absence of tint in your lips speaks for itself. Your eyes are still not fully open, or more like they can’t be. You regard Taehyung with a slightly confused expression. “Burning. My head is killing me.” It’s barely even a whisper. Taehyung’s heart aches. It aches more knowing just how much pain you must be in to forget your pride and admit your vulnerability out loud. You never do that. Not even that time you fell over on the ice-skating rink and broke your wrist, yet insisted it had hurt no more than a bruise, even though Taehyung had seen how much you were wincing when you thought he wasn’t looking.

“Ah, okay, fuck. I don’t know what to do, Y/N. What do you need? Water? Ice packs? Ibuprofen? Are you hungry? Do you want some cereal?” Taehyung is duly aware of how much he currently resembles a concerned mother fussing over her sick child, but he doesn’t care. He’ll be mother hen if he has to.

“Shh… Too loud, Taehub…” Laboriously lifting your arm as if it weighs two tonnes, you silence him with a finger to his mouth. And he shuts up immediately. He shouldn’t, given the circumstances, but he savours your touch as your finger slides down his bottom lip when your arm drops. “Water, please.”

And like that, Taehyung is sprinting to the kitchen for a cool glass of water for you, ignoring the cold that slaps at his bare feet. He has never looked after a sick person before, this is all very nerve-wracking and stressful for him. He is so fast that he arrives back to you with only half the contents of the glass still contained, the rest spilled during his hurried journey.

Taehyung finds you sat up, looking a little more awake than half a minute ago but no more alive. Your hair is tangled the way it always is in the morning, and your face is puffy the way fluffy pancakes rise - the same way that makes Taehyung want to kiss you all over and tell you how much he likes pancakes and he likes you. But god bless, you’re just sat there, spaced out, staring off at the sloth drawings of your bed sheets, you poor thing.

Something clenches in Taehyung from how you kind of light up when you notice his approach, eyes twinkling and corners of your mouth turning up ever so subtly.

“Here.” He breathes, now especially weary of his volume so not to disrupt you. You jump at the cold that’s pressed on your lips, and take the glass from him as he perches by the bed next to you. Not that there was much to begin with, but you down the water like you do with vodka shots during happy hour. “Better?”

With a great sigh, you shut your eyes and shake your head. “No. I feel like we’re in a furnace, and someone is hammering my head.” There is something very gentle about your voice that Taehyung does not recognise at all. It’s soft, shy even, the completely opposite from the way you normally speak. And from the babyish way your lips are jutted out…

Taehyung doesn’t for a second doubt that the fever is frying your brain. Because your mannerism would never be this mild and soft-spoken in your right mind. You haven’t even sworn once despite the condition you’re in; that’s how he knows with absolute certainty that you’re not yourself.

Just as he is about to suggest taking you to the doctor, you pinch the material of your top and begin peeling it off. It rides up your damp skin to reveal your glistening waist. Higher. Over your ribcage. Higher. The underside swells of your breasts peeking through.

All sensible thought vacates him.

Nowadays, not much can fluster Taehyung anymore, so the attack of heat rushing to his face feels rather foreign, strangely tickling his chest. The female body is a frequent sight for him, especially yours, so this really shouldn’t faze him at all. It’s perhaps the context of this situation, how you are hardly conscious, completely vulnerable and beside yourself.

“Stop.” He catches the material of your rising shirt in your hand. You look at him with a cocked head when you notice his prevention, cheeks red from the fever, confusion worn so genuinely that he chokes. “Fuck- Don’t look at me like that while taking your shirt off. Stop taking your shirt off, even.”

“Look at you like what?” Your voice is soft, its usual cockiness absent. Just pure innocence. It shouldn’t suit you given your typical boisterous character, but it strangely does.

“Lookingatmelikesomeinnocentfuckingkittengoddammit.” He mutters under his breath, staring at the wall to avoid that heart-ruining expression of yours as he tugs your top back down. It takes everything in him not to dwell on those perversions. God, what is wrong with him? This is so completely inappropriate.

“But it’s hot…”

At a moment of weakness, Taehyung takes a glimpse at your face and, lo and behold, immediately gets shot in the heart by your beseeching pout. Not to mention the way you’re whining…

Fuck. Taehyung is going to fucking melt.

“Okay, but don’t take off your shirt just like that. Warn me next time.” He grips onto your shirt as tightly as it takes to ground himself, fist rested on your hip. You’re his friend right now. Nothing more. Stop being a sopping melt.

“Okay, sorry. But can I at least change into new jammies? These are too stuffy.” Disgruntled, you plead, eyes wishfully wide.

Jammies? Jammies? Are you kidding him? Taehyung is this close to banging his head against the wall. Who is this person sitting in front of him right now? Because he has never, never, in his two and a half+ years of knowing you, witnessed you like this. Literally who are you?

“Um, er, okay, so- How about, I’ll let you change into some lighter clothes, then we’ll get you to the doctor. How does that sound?” He tucks your hair neatly behind your ears and pluck on your lobe endearingly.

“What? No, please, no!” You throw your hands up and groan, narrowly missing whacking him on the chin. Now, you’re infamous for your stubbornness against medical care, steadfast to your belief that one’s body is sufficient in recovering itself in most cases. No pain killers, no cough drops, no flu medicine. Taehyung theorises that you like to suffer, gives you a good boost of self esteem knowing that you can endure the pain. He knows what you’re like with your pride and ego.

But now is not the time. “Why not? You’re burning up. Don’t be so headstrong.”

“I don’t want to move.” Sniff.

“I’ll carry you.” That makes you pause.

“Taehyung, no! I don’t wanna go.” Tantrum on the brink of bubbling, as you bang your fists against the mattress and cross your arms, frowning in displeasure at him. Ah, there’s the Y/N he knows. “And you better keep your distance too, or else you’ll catch whatever I have.” Sniff.

“I’ll keep my distance if you let me take you to the doctor.” Two can play this game. Taehyung’s stubbornness isn’t to shabby himself. And though in your past arguments, he has usually always been the one to be lenient and back down, he won’t budge this time.

“Stop being fussy, or I won’t drink any water or take any medicine and-”

“Stop being a brat, or I’ll kiss you right now.”

You shut up right away. It’s hard to suppress the smirk of triumph that overcomes Taehyung. “W-What?” You stammer, visibly shying away from you.

“Did I stutter?” He dares to provoke, before swiftly leaning his face into yours.

“Dude!” Even in your sickly state, your reflexes are quick, hand immediately catching over his mouth before he could kiss you. His face stops, inches away from yours, the only barrier between you being your hand. In such proximity, he can feel the heat melting off you, radiating into his bones. Your eyes, wide and panicked. “Are you crazy? You’re going to get ill too.” Taehyung swears the heavy tint in your cheeks is only partially due to the fever. He smiles against your warm palm, making sure to pucker his lips for emphasis of his intention. You are so fun to fluster.

“Then go to the doctor.” His voice his muffled by your hand.

“You’re so stubborn, god!” Oh, the hypocrisy. “Look. The doctor can’t do anything except give me some medicine to decrease my temperature. But fever is good for the body anyway. It’s optimising the temperature for my immune cells to fight off the bugs. This is gonna pass. Stop worrying.”

Lightly, you shove his face away and slide down the bed until you’re buried neck-deep by the covers, mouth pursed in a tight, irritated pout that Taehyung finds adorable.

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with me kissing you then, if it’s nothing to worry about.” Taehyung hovers over you, dangerously close, and you quickly cover your own mouth this time. This is a fun game, one that he knows he will win. If there is one thing that can overcome your stubbornness, it’s his own health in jeopardy. And Taehyung doesn’t even feel remotely bad for taking advantage of that.

It’s not that he wants to catch this sickness from you… But if that’s what it takes to threaten you to seek medical help, then he’ll do it a hundred times.

Plus, he misses your lips, okay? It’s a win-win situation for him: either he gets to kiss you, or you let him take you to the doctor. Genius.

For a moment, you just stare back at him, fury brewing in those eyes that are no longer hazy from the fever but ablaze with annoyance and displeasure. But he already knows what your answer will be.

“You’re a bully, Kim Taehyung, you’re a fucking bully. I’m not going to speak to you ever again.”

Taehyung chuckles and hauls you out of bed.

.

You sulk at the way to the hospital, not uttering a single word to Taehyung as you swore you would. He’s kind of impressed, actually. Anything he asks you, you would reply with a nod, shake, or shrug. He guesses it’s a combination of your anger and genuine fatigue and light-headedness.

When he tries to loop his arm around yours in the Uber, you let him, but look out the window as if he isn’t right beside you. Hmpf, so this is what he gets for looking after you. Fine, he can handle it.

“Are you just going to ignore my presence, baby?” The pet name is intentional, to tease you further and see if you would break your silence to tell him off.

You don’t fall for it.

Instead, you briefly turn to him, give him a daggered look that says I’ll never suck you off again, and turn back around, pretending to find the empty streets wildly interesting.

“Fine, baby girl. Suit yourself.” Taehyung catches the driver’s amused eyes in the rearview mirror. Something along the lines of: women, am I right? He smiles and rests his head on yours for the rest of the ride.

Upon arrival to the hospital, you silently storm out of the car and register at the reception. Taehyung doesn’t quite understand why you’re so mad, and what exactly you have against doctors that appears to be so personal, but he is finding this rather entertaining.

The two of you are ushered to the waiting room by a kind-looking nurse roughly of his mother’s age, the type of kind that makes you want to pour your heart out and entrust her with all your secrets.

Still not a peep from you. Though many sniffs.

“How are you feeling right now?” He asks as he sits himself down on the seat next to you. It could be wishful thinking but your eyes soften when you look at him. You throw him a thumbs down before returning to the form you are intently filling out.

You are startled when Taehyung takes your chin in his long fingers, pulls you slightly closer to him and plants his lips on your fever-heated cheek. “I’ll get you some water then.” He gets up before he can dwell too long on your reaction, the way you are completely frozen, pen nib pressed so hard on the paper that a blodge of ink has oozed out of the ballpoint. If he dwells too long, he thinks his heart might do a funny thing.

As he walks towards the water dispenser in the corner of the room, he passes the nurse again, who smiles knowingly at him as she heads towards where you are sitting, no doubt to check up on you. God, he wants to spill all his feelings to this nurse. She reminds him of his grandmother when he was young.

Taehyung returns with a cup of cool water, this one more full than the one he’d poured for you this morning. He finds you chatting quietly to the nurse, the face mask she had just handed you resting around your chin, oblivious to his approach.

“You are lucky to have such a great boyfriend, young lady. Trust me, he’s a keeper.” The nurse muses at her.

Taehyung fully expects you to scoff or choke on your own spit, stand up and yell at the clueless woman: WHAT THE FUCK, HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND. EW. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Because that has totally happened before; people tend to mistaken you two as a couple everywhere you go.

Except... You just blink at the nurse, rather blankly as if trying to comprehend her words. Then you nod.

Just nod.

The paper cup almost slips out of Taehyung’s hand.

“Love, the way he looks at you? Anyone would die to be looked at like that.” The nurse continues.

Taehyung rushes to your side before she can say more.

“Here. Water.” Clearing his throat, he hands you the cup without making any eye contact. He hopes he’s not blushing but the heat rushing to his face says otherwise. When he glances up at the nurse, she is smiling at him as if she knows exactly what is going on in his mind.

“Thanks.” You whisper.

Oh, so you’re back to speaking to him now. Is it because of what she said? When your eyes meet, something clicks. An emotional click that tells him that your annoyance towards him had been a mask for your genuine gratitude. Taehyung’s chest is fuzzy with relief.

Not long later, you are called to the doctor’s room. Taehyung sits waiting for you outside, silently pondering the nurse’s words and your lack of protest.

.

“Come on, Y/N, what’s the point of going to the doctors if you aren’t going to take the medicine they prescribe you?” Taehyung lets out a rumble of frustration. A bottle of water and a packet of pills clutched in one hand, he is this close to plucking his hair out.

“The point of going to the doctors was to get you not to kiss me and catch the same flu. The doctor said this virus is contagious, and could still be at this stage.” Your voice, nasal from your blocked nose, is stifled further by the face mask. Changed into a t-shirt and shorts so you don’t sweat through your clothes again - yes, the shorts, the heatwave shorts - you cross your arms and roll to the other side of the bed. Taehyung’s hand is itching to spank your ass pink.

“That means I’ll probably get ill anyway in the next few days. We literally kissed yesterday.” He points out, and it might be psychological but his head is beginning to hurt a little. Of course, he wouldn’t dare tell you or else you’d turn this around and be the one fussing over him. “Come here.”

Taehyung locks his fingers around your ankles and drags you back towards him, ignoring your feeble squeak. He gives in and smacks your butt lightly.

“Oi!” You twist around and kick the shackles of his grip off. “You dare hit the sick?! My head is killing me as it is.” Sniff.

“Oh, so you admit that you’re sick? Why don’t you take the medicine then?” Forcing you onto his lap, he wrestles your battling arms and hold them in place behind your body. In any other situation, he would be awfully turned on right now. Something about your brattiness is a kink to him.

With the rest of your face covered by the mask, your eyes are fiercely emanating your obstinate defiance. It should be a scary look, your death glare, but after this long, anything you do in Taehyung’s eyes has been reduced to animated cuteness. He feels like he’s the only one who could go up against you like this without cowering. You’ve stopped struggling against his grip now, rather sulking as you’re perched on his thighs. He doesn’t hesitate that you’re unconsciously pouting behind that mask.

“Because I promise I’m going to feel better. Medicine is for the weak. The doctor said herself that the fever will subside tomorrow! Then what’s the point of administering these extra chemicals into my body if I’m recovering on my own?” You whine.

“To help you recover better!”

“Flu medicine is a scam. You’re too gullible-”

“Do you love or care about me at all?”

You tense at his abrupt question that appears out of the blue. “Well... yeah. You-You’re my best friend. Which is why I don’t want you falling sick too, so just shoo.” You’re squirming, trying to brush off your initial surprise at his question which is all the more accentuating your bashfulness. Taehyung just wants to kiss, god dammit.

“Then don’t you know that it’s killing me to see you in pain like this? To see my best friend burning up with a fever and refusing to let me look after her? Are you seriously that cold-hearted to let me suffer like this if you claim to love and care about me?”

Yes, Taehyung is playing this game. Emotional manipulation? Yes. Probably a little bit of a dick move? Yes. But does he care as long as it does the trick? No.

“Bro, you can’t use this against me. Just let me suffer, I like to suffer, this fever feels fucking fantastic.” When he lets your wrists go, you punch his arm lightly, frowning, though he can see the tiniest spark of amusement in your pupils. Not to mention the rise in your cheeks that indicates your attempt in hiding a smile.

“Shut up and be a good girl, or I’ll kiss you right now.” Hands running up your bare legs, he tugs you closer by the hip before resting his arms around your waist. Though you’re arching away, he sees your cheeks rise even higher.

“Stop trying to kiss me.” You groan overdramatically and try to wriggle away; you would think he’s the one with the illness from how much you’re trying to get away from him. When you proceed to clamp both hands over your masked mouth, Taehyung knows he’d sooner receive the ball of your foot to his temple than be able to feel your lips at this rate.

Okay fine, different approach. “I’ll cut my hair off.”

“What? No-nO. Dude that’s not fair, what the fuck?” Your whole body falls limp in defeat in his arms as you wail. Taehyung can’t help but laugh. “Okay I will take the stupid medicine. Please don’t cut your hair.”

“Okay, good girl.” Humming against your neck, he tries to hide the smug grin of his victory. “On one more condition though.”

“Wow, you’re literally using my love for your hair as blackmail, you dick. Spit it out.” He feels your fingers sink through his long untamed curls, tips massaging his scalp like your lover. Taehyung sometimes feels like you love his hair as if it is a completely separate entity from him, like if you could marry his hair, you would.

“Let me kiss your mouth.” He looks up at you, craned neck and sheepish smile. He knows he’s being unfairly demanding, especially of someone who is ill. But it’s been over 12 hours since you have last kissed. 12 hours. Come on. He’s only human.

“Taehyung, I swear to G-” If your legs weren’t straddled around him, he knows his chest would be met with your foot.

“And I swear to God I’ll get a buzz cut.” Not even bluffing. Every other guy goes through a crisis at some point in their life and gets a god awful buzz cut. Nothing special.

“OH MY GOD- NO. BUZZCUT? NO. Okay, okay, quickly kiss me over the mask, then I’ll take the fucking meds.” The utter horror and mortification that detonates across your face has Taehyung cackling. In the back of his mind, he wonders if you’d still like him with no hair. He’s sometimes afraid that you wouldn’t. But then again, he has vomited on your face before, yet you still like him. So there’s that.

“Wait over the mask?” It just registers with him what you said.

“I’m all gross. You don’t want to kiss me on the lips anyway.” Your gaze falls as you sniffle for probably the thousandth time today, hand reaching to scratch the back of your neck but dropping it right away when you realise that it’s a nervous tick.

Taehyung sighs. “Over the mask is better than no kiss. I’ll take it.”

As his face approaches yours, he is keenly aware that you’re unwilling to meet his eyes. Cute. Soon, your eyes are level with each other, yet you only dare peer at his nose. He boops his nose to yours, breath separated only by the thin material of the mask, waiting for you to lean in.

But when you make no move to initiate it, Taehyung smiles. God, since when did you become so shy. He knows he tends to have this effect on people but since when did he turn you into a blushing, eye-avoiding mess?

He doesn’t expect much when he places his mouth over yours. The gauzy material of the mask grazes his lips, smelling like the overly-sanitised stench of hospital. So he is surprised to find something in him tingle slightly, even despite such physical obstruction of intimacy. The white fabric folds over the curve of your lips to mould with his. He feels a rush of cool from the sharp inhale through your nose.

He pulls away sooner than you want. Your expression is confused by the short duration of the kiss, so not what you expected and is used to.

“I’m sorry, that’s not going to do it for me.” Taehyung rasps. And with that, he pinches the mask down and presses fully onto your lips.

Your heat that greets him sends a surge down his spine. Jeez, you are burning. But he’s pretty sure he is too, from the way he can hear his blood pounding in his ear. You are completely static at first, frozen in place from shock of his boldness. He can wager what exactly is going on in your head. This boy. This boy has some fucking nerve.

And that is correct, he does have some fucking nerve.

But soon, you are kissing him back, probably not out of your own free will but simply from the natural instinct that overrides you when met with his lips. Nowadays, kissing each other feels like sinking into your bed after a long day at college. Comfortable, heart-warming. Kissing other people doesn’t feel half as nice, just like how no bed ever feels like your bed.

Taehyung can sense how much you’ve been longing for this as well from the low gentle vibrations of your throat as you purr. Your entire face is a few degrees hotter than it normally is, and worry is gnawing at the back of his brain almost irrationally. Because he knows that as much as you are bickering with him and acting playful, your head must be hammering. The last time he’d checked, your temperature was still 39˚C.

He has to be the one to pull away again. “You’re burning.” He watches your eyes linger on his glistening lips before glancing up. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine…” You whisper, leaning up to peck his lips several more times. There are moments where Taehyung’s heart completely clenches, like seizes. You say you don’t want to kiss him for his own good, yet here you are savouring his taste like you can’t get enough. Fuck. Taehyung is feeling things.

“Are you sure? Here, take this.” He passes you the bottle of water and packet of medication that were carelessly tossed to the side when he was busy holding you. Without protest, out of fear for the fate of Taehyung’s hair no doubt, you pop a pill out of its foil bubble. “Two pills at once, three times a day.”

“Yes, dad.” You roll your eyes and put them in your mouth, swallowing without so much of a gag.

Taehyung sucks in. “Don’t say the d-word.”

“Wh- I purposely said dad, not daddy.” Flabbergasted by his implication, you scoff and remove yourself from his lap, rolling back under the covers until no more than a burrito with your face peeking out. “I can’t believe you are even thinking about that, nympho.” Sniff again, though you make no effort to put your mask back up.

“Hey, I’ve been so good, I was just warning you! That’s a triggering word for me.” Taehyung joins you under the cool duvet. “You have absolutely zero right to call me a nympho. Do I have to remind you of the time you called me out of my lecture so we could fuck in the toilets in the middle of a school day? Or that time in the library-”

“Shhh. I’m ill, my memory is a little hazy.” You smile, rather wholesomely, at him.

Sometimes, when he looks at you, he can look through the narrow windows of your ego and view the persona that lie within. Just a girl who loves kisses and cuddles and making bad decisions at 3am.

And maybe a girl who loves him.

.

You fall asleep fairly quickly after the medication. One would have thought that would give Taehyung plenty of time to make use of his day, maybe start an abstract painting or finish his coursework due in a week and a half. But nope.

Taehyung has discovered that he has an extremely irrational fear of you being sick. He simply couldn’t stop himself from going into your room every 15 minutes, making sure that you’re still breathing and placing cold towels on your sweat-beaded forehead to help your temperature drop. You are in deep sleep, shallow breaths, no eye movement. He may have snuck in a few cheek kisses just to check if you’re really asleep, and you were. He still kissed you a bit more anyway.

After a whole evening of restlessness, he finally decides to give up and go to bed. He debates sleeping with you, just for his own peace of mind, but you probably want your own space anyway.

So, after brushing his teeth and changing into his so-called jammies - he will give you shit for that once you feel better - he quietly creeps into your room one last time with a fresh towel. With soundless steps, he perches lightly on the edge of your bed, eyes adjusting to the pitch darkness.

This time, you wince slightly at the cold wetness of the towel, rousing, but not completely conscious.

“Taehyung?” Your voice is incredibly hoarse, barely a croak, so he scrambles for your bottle of water and feeds it to you.

“Hey, it’s me.” He murmurs softly, and resumes wiping your forehead gently.

“Wh… are you do..g here?” Incoherent syllables indicate how you’re mostly still asleep.

“Looking after my baby. I’ll go to bed and leave you to rest soon.”

When your hand abruptly flies up and clamps around his, Taehyung jumps. You’re freezing. “No. Don’t go, please.”

His mind doesn’t know what to respond to first, your sudden cold sweats, or your request for him to stay. His chest squeezes. “I- H- You’re freezing, Y/N.”

“I know, but please stay.” In the dark, Taehyung can only barely make out the shape of your face and see that your eyes are still shut. Maybe you’re dreaming.

Please stay.

“Okay, don’t worry, of course I’ll stay. But just please tell me how you’re feeling?” He climbs in at the other side of the bed and presses his palm on your neck. Your temperature regulation is fucked up by this fever. Seeing you like this makes something in him crack.

“Finenowthatyou’rehere.” You snuggle up to his chest and mumble into his hoodie, already beginning to fall back into heavy slumber.

Chest squeeze, again.

Taehyung feels his own heart pounding. These words of endearment are rare from you; he’s going to hold on to them for as long as he can. He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Of course I’m here. I’m always here.”

He is such a sap, he knows, a hopeless fool. But you’re his missing part, he feels it in his bones. He hopes that he’s yours too.

Then you mutter something inaudible into his chest. The iciness of your touch flails his back as your hands reach beneath his hoodie to hold him tighter. There’s something about the way the scene is set, how you’re delirious from your fever, clinging onto him in complete darkness of your room. Taehyung’s emotions are flooding.

“What was that?”

“I love you so much, Taehyung.”

His brain short-circuits entirely. It just switches off.

I

Love

You

So

Much,

Taehyung.

Words that he’d never expected to hear from you, not tonight, not any time in the near future, and certainly not unprovoked like this, utterly at your own accord.

Then his brain turns itself back on again, and is instantly swept away by the chaos that breaks out. “W... What do you mean by that?” He needs to know that he’s interpreting this correctly and rather than hearing what he wants to hear.

“Mmmm...” You groan sleepily. Taehyung shouldn’t take this too seriously right? You’re not even in your right mind. Your head is still buried in him, inhaling his scent like he is your oxygen. “You know what I mean. I just mean I love you a lot more than I love myself.” Sniff. “I love you big and tall and wide. I love you and only you, that’s it.”

I love you a lot more than I love myself. I love you big and tall and wide. I love you and only you, that’s it.

Taehyung feels a sting in his eye, what the fuck.

He isn’t moving. He doesn’t think he can. And so you just lay there in each other’s arms, in complete silence, but also not silence because you had just declared your love for him and all his thoughts are screaming.

What the fuck is ‘I love you big and tall and wide’? He fucking loves you big and tall and wide too.

Okay. Okay. Let’s stay calm.

No. He loves you.

He has loved you for a very long time, and a part of him has always known. It’s you. It’s always you. The way you met. The way you found each other. The way everything fell in place in his life after you. It’s fate. It’s all fate. And it’s all you. Because Taehyung is not a violent person by any means, but he would kill for you, he would do anything for you. It scares him.

And that’s just the funny way that love works. A lot of the times, it is standing right there in front of you, waving its hands and shouting for you attention. And you dismiss it at first because you mistake it for friendship, even though there’s an inkling in you that has considered the possibility that it’s more than that. So you go about your life, day by day with this person who you love but don’t know you love yet, collecting your little moments together into a heart-shaped glass jar without realising it. Until one day you look at the jar and see that it’s completely full.

His heart is full. His heart is full of you.

He doesn’t know what to do or what that means. He isn’t even sure of his own feelings, whether it is a heat of the moment confusion, or a cauldron of bubbling emotions at the brim of spillage.

But no, he is sure.

He knows that he loves you. He knows it.

Because why else would nothing boil his blood more than the sight of you in the arms of someone else? Why else would nothing hurt more than seeing you in pain like this? Why else would nothing bring him more joy than simply sitting next to you, being able to touch you, making you laugh? And why else would it feel like he can spend the rest of forever just looking at you, memorising your details while you play with his hair that you love so much?

He loves you.

It is perhaps the darkness that gives him such courage, because he gathers himself and says, “I love you. So fucking much, I love you, Y/N. I thought I knew what love was before you, I thought I was happy and content with my life. But now, I can’t even remember what I was like without you. Because that guy wasn’t me. I’m not me without you. And I love you. I entirely belong to you. And I love you.

“I love you a lot more than I love myself. I love you big and tall and wide. I love you and only you, that’s it.”

And it’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest. His insides aren’t twisted into knots anymore. Suddenly, he can see with such clarity. In the dark, he only sees you.

He sees you fast asleep against his chest. Arms looped around his waist in a way that makes him never want to leave his bed.

Taehyung takes a deep breath and exhales. Maybe from relief.

You are asleep. You hadn’t heard.

Yes, he is definitely relieved. He doesn’t think he’s ready to face the consequences of his feelings yet if he had really just poured his heart out to you. You probably didn’t mean it that way anyway; he is overthinking.

But the ‘I love you so much, Taehyung.’ The heartfelt passion in your voice could not have been his imagination.

So, with a great sigh, he makes use of the fact that you’re asleep to rehearse it a few more times.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

.

02/02/19

© Copyright 2020

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