#but my wrist hurts so damn bad i just massaged it for like 5 minutes

[louferrignojrofficial]

I MISS MAKING GIFS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[doodlevich]

Scrabble King

Now you all know I love a good prompt, and I’ve been using this opt prompt generator to get some ideas! Here’s the results:

Prompt #1: Ian staying up half the night to finish a game with Mickey.

Word Count: 752

Rated: M

“Go to sleep, man. Your eyes are barely open.” Ian chuckles at his husband, who’s slouched back in his chair like a ragdoll, fighting the influence of slumber.

“Fuck off and fuck you…” Mickey grunts. “We’re finishing this damn game. ‘M gonna win.”

In front of them on the table is a second hand scrabble board that looks like it couldn’t possibly fit any more words. They’re down to their last few letters, and Mickey’s about 50 points away from taking home the win. Near impossible odds, especially considering how he’s been playing so far.

“We can finish tomorrow.” Ian sighs, rapidly blinking his dry eyes and willing them to focus. “C’mon, it’s like… 2 am.”

Mickey slams his fist down on the table suddenly, making the whole board jump a little and displacing some of the pieces. “Suck it up, princess. I got shit to prove.”

Ian rolls his eyes, carefully placing letters back into the correct alignment. He’s not sure what Mickey thinks he’s going to prove with four letters and no space on the board, but he also knows the man he married is about as stubborn as they come.

They’ve been playing for far longer than any scrabble tournament has a right to go on. Ian’s not sure when they started, but all he knows is that his ass muscles are cramping from sitting in the same position for too long. They’ve played 4 games, he thinks, maybe 5, and he’s managed to smoke Mickey by a mile in every one. He’s not even doing it on purpose any more- Mickey’s just historically bad at spelling and his vocabulary typically leaves something to be desired.

‘SHITSHOW’ isn’t a word Mick.

Um, yes it fucking is.

Yeah, I know it’s technically a word, but not according to Scrabble rules.

Who said we were following the rules, asshole?

Such conversations happened about every fifteen minutes during the course of the evening, but now that things have gotten down to the nitty gritty, Mickey isn’t arguing about words any more. He’s staring at his remaining letters like they’ll magically form a 50 point word if he gives them the stink eye hard enough. Ian ponders over the fact that Mickey most definitely has some level of dyslexia that never really got the attention it needed, and how he’s probably never going to mention it outloud, because he has a feeling it wouldn’t go over well.

Instead, he thinks a distraction might be in order.

“Mick,” Ian hums softly, leaning over to rub calming circles over Mickey’s lower back. “We can just go to bed and pretend this never happened. You win, you have bragging rights, okay? If anyone asks, you’re the reigning king of scrabble.”

Mickey side eyes him intensely, but doesn’t say no right away. Maybe it’s because Ian’s still rubbing and massaging, drifting lower until he can give Mickey’s ass a squeeze.

“That all?” Mickey asks, a smirk forming despite his exhaustion. “What else is in it for me?“

Ian pretends to think about it, even though he already knows the way to Mickey’s heart is through his dick. He slides his hand over top of his husband's thigh and runs his thumb teasingly over the seam of Mickey’s crotch.

“I’ll figure out a new and creative way to wake you up…” Ian promises.

Mickey attempts to hold back a shiver at Ian’s light touch.

“Fuck, how did I get so whipped? ” Mickey asks himself, rhetorically.

Ian grips Mickey’s inner thigh tightly. “Cuz I’m irresistible… and the big dick doesn’t exactly hurt my chances.” He jokes.

Mickey glares down at the board yet again, weighing his options, and then gives in, just as Ian had predicted. He shoots up from the chair with enough force to have it teetering and grabs Ian’s wrist, pulling him up as well.

“What if I can’t wait until the morning?” Mickey muses, a sultry look on his face as he steps backwards towards their bedroom with Ian in tow.

“I’m sure we can arrange something.” Ian chuckles.

Mickey stops outside the door and lets go of Ian’s wrist before invading his personal space. He wraps arms around Ian’s neck as their bodies collide, and Ian lets a little puff of air escape him at the unexpected impact.

“Gonna call me ‘Scrabble King’ while you fuck me?” Mickey asks, his lips curled into a demented grin.

“Demanding!” Ian tuts, squeezing his husband’s waist. “Guess I shouldn’t expect any less from the Scrabble King, huh?”

I hope you enjoyed! More to come, and I’ll eventually be posting a series on Ao3 when I get a few done! 😌

[softjakehoon]

Can We Pretend?

Pairing: Idol Jay/Reader

Warnings: Smut. For 18+ only, minors dni.

Includes: Corruption kink, friends with benefits, protected sex, squirting, mild choking, slight biting, rough sex.

Authors note: I might edit this later. I apologize for any errors, I wrote this at 5 am instead of sleeping. Lmao.

------

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, in case you wanted to back down. 

You were watching a drama just a couple of minutes ago when he kissed you by surprise. You remember teasing him and questioning his innocence because of a scene in the drama where the main leads were hugging before having sex for the first time. 

Your brain stopped functioning for a while to remember how it all came to this. 

"Pft. Who the fuck hugs before having sex?" You almost choked on your drink out of laughter. 

"Why? Isn't that a normal thing for couples?" Jay asked you with innocence plastered on his face. 

"Are you being serious? You.. don't tell me you're still a virgin?" You were so shocked that you had to pause the drama you're both watching. 

"What's wrong with being a virgin? Also, you already know I haven't dated anyone in my life, why are you so shocked?" His lips pouting cutely as he argued.

"But that was 3 years ago, Jay. You're literally 21 now, you need to get laid." You teased him out of habit. A sting of pain suddenly grazing your heart at the thought of your best friend on someone else's bed.

"As if I have the time for that. Besides, I can't just hook up with anyone. I have a reputation to protect as an idol." He's right, you nodded in response. A sudden thought crossing your mind. 

"Wait a minute, how do you release tension then? Do you just get off by yourself or?" Your face inspecting his eyes closely for some hint. "Don't tell me you don't jack off either?" You were beyond shocked by his blank expression, showing no sign of guilt at all. 

"Holy shit, how do you even do that? You poor thing." You taunted him. 

"Enough, y/n. I'm fine, I have a lot of ways to release stress. Unless, you want to offer yourself to help." Jay knew he wasn't thinking straight when he said this but he maintained his cool and unbothered expression to see how you would react. 

"You want us to be fuck buddies, is that it? Fine, I'll help you." You weren't sure why you agreed without giving it a second thought. But you know deep inside you've been in love with Jay for 6 years already. For all those years, you tried so hard not to be overly affectionate and clingy to the boy you liked the most--in fear of him drifting away from you. You wanted to be someone constant in his life, someone he can go to whenever he needs someone to lean on. You wanted to be his soulmate. 

You've done a great job so far, but you're not sure anymore. How the hell are you going to manage pretending from now on? When you're overly sentimental and you tend to give meaning to every single thing he does. 

"What? How can you agree so fast?" He jokingly covered his mouth, pretending to be shocked. 

"What? Do you want me to take it back? It's not like this is my first time having sex anyway." You tried to act cool as much as possible, pretending that this setup isn't that much of a big deal at all. 

"Right. I'm not. But you're gonna be my first." You're almost sure he sounded hurt when he said that while looking deeply in your eyes. 

You couldn't resist it anymore. You wanted to be the one to erase his innocence but you were surprised when he kissed you first. 

You couldn't honestly tell if this is his first kiss or not because he's definitely good at it. 

You pulled away out of shock. You didn't expect him to be this good since you thought he's just gonna go for a quick peck. He looked confused at your reaction.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, in case you wanted to back down. 

"No. No, I was just shocked. I thought you were just gonna go with a quick peck, that's all." For some reason you can't look directly in his eyes. You're sure of it. If you do, you're gonna fall for him again, like you always do. 

"Well, we're not gonna go further with just a peck, right? Stop acting so shy, I thought you're gonna help me." He lifted your chin using his thumb, your eyes meeting in parallel. 

"You sure about this, Jay? I mean, I may get clingy after all of this. You know how sensitive I get. I tend to feel a lot of emotions." You warned him, followed by a fake laugh to ease the tension. You wanted to give him an idea of what could happen at least. 

"Then, don't. We're just using each other for sex, keep that in mind." You're aware he didn't mean to hurt you by this. He was just stating the obvious--drawing the line between the two of you for safety precaution. But this hurts, and you wanted him to take the pain all away, even just for a while. 

You kissed him roughly in frustration. He picked up your pace quickly, he really is a fast learner, you thought. And his lips, they're small and cute but they felt so damn good on yours. You grabbed his face, feeling every inch of his jawline, circling your fingertips on the mark on his neck. You looked deep into his eyes before gently sucking on it. He moaned at the contact, grabbing a fistful of your hair gently and pulling you back to a kiss. 

"Don't leave marks, y/n. I have a photoshoot tomorrow." He said, firmly. 

"Too bad. Wanted to fucking mark you as proof of getting your virginity taken." You chuckled. 

"Let me mark you instead, then. Proof that I let you take it." He whispered into your ear, biting into it gently, and kissing your neck while sucking on your skin up to your cleavage. 

You moaned from the sensation. You're already melting from his touch, you couldn't help but to rub your thighs together, wanting some kind of pleasure on your core as soon as possible. 

"Jay, I want your cock in me so bad." You whined, desperate to feel him inside of you. You palmed his cock inside his shorts, pulling it out. This is your first time seeing your best friend's dick and it was prettier than you imagined it would be. And you always thought he would be huge, but this doesn't even compare to the one in your dreams. The length, the girth, the tip of his cock, all red from arousal, leaking with precum already. Your mouth is watering from the sight. 

You couldn't help it. You dropped on your knees, eyes levelled to his crotch. You pumped his dick with your small hands, earning a gasp from him. You circled your tongue in his tip, gathering all the precum in it before fully deep throating him. He let out a growl this time, surprised by your sudden action. "Fuck, y/n. That's it, your mouth feels so good." You hummed in his dick, sending vibrations to his senses. You kept bobbing your head up and down, making sure to go as deep as you can, his tip hitting your throat making you slightly gag. You pulled it out for a moment to spit on it, and put it back inside your mouth, sucking him sloppily.

"Fuck, y/n. I'm close, keep going." Your jaw is starting to hurt a little, but you wanted to taste him so bad. You continued sucking him off while cupping his balls, massaging them gently. 

"Fuck, I'm cumming." He tried to get you off of him but you wrapped your arms around his thighs, pulling him closer. His cock, burying in your throat even deeper as he cummed. You looked up to him, eyes closed and mouth open from the pleasure. His head tilted back, and his hair slightly wet from sweat. The view of him from below caused a pool of wetness in your core. You milked him dry and swallowed his load without hesitation. 

"Shit, y/n. That's just.. insane. Come here, I wanna taste you too." He helped you get up, both of you smiling from ecstasy. 

You sat up on the couch, your thighs closed involuntarily trying to hide your arousal. "Can I?" He looked into your eyes, asking for permission if he could eat you out like a gentleman that he is. 

"Y-yes." You shyly answered. This is the first time someone is getting down on you after all. Your ex never liked foreplay and always went on ahead with penetration every single time that it hurts most of the time. Nervous of what's to come, you covered your face with your hands, not wanting him to see your state. 

"Let me see your pretty face, y/n. I wanna see how good I'm making you feel." He grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on his head, giving you something to hold on to while he flicks his tongue in your clit. He looked at you, your head tilted on the side, your mouth open releasing soft moans. He took the chance to put two fingers in your mouth, making you suck on them only to put them inside your cunt. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out while licking and sucking your bud, driving you insane from the pleasure, your arousal dripping down his chin generously. 

You grabbed his hair firmly as you focused on reaching your climax, clenching on his fingers. "Jay, I.. I'm gonna cum." You're almost out of breath at this point. 

He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot several times that had you squirting around his digits. He eased you from your high, fucking your hole with his tongue and sucking on your juices. He looked up to you with lust all written in his face. His cheeks and chin, all wet and covered with your scent. 

"I always knew you'd taste good. Though I didn't know you're a squirter." He chuckled and sat on the couch. 

"Shut up. It's because it felt too good." You got up and climbed on his lap. He grabbed your ass to spread them and began kissing you again. The taste of his cum and yours both mixing in your mouth as you kiss him back. You began grinding at his erection, coating his length with your juices as he guided you by your waist. 

You're getting impatient at this point, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You felt Jay searching for something in the corner of the couch, eventually bringing out a condom. 

"Why do you have that there?" You asked him, curious if he knew this would happen. 

"The boys left it here just in case. Didn't know I'd be the one to use it though." He tore the packaging and started rolling it down to the base of his cock. 

"You're such a good boy, aren't you?" You smiled at him.

"I don't think so." He whispered in your ear and bit your jaw, leaving a slight mark. You moaned a little bit louder this time. Surprised that it didn't hurt at all. "Aren't you such a pain slut? You're getting turned on by that? Huh?" His voice is so deep and velvety, making you clench your walls on nothing.

You started positioning yourself in his cock, slowly sinking down while biting your lip. He gasped from the unfamiliar sensation when he felt his tip enter you. You made sure to bottom all the way down, training your cunt to adjust to his size. 

"Shit. Move for me, baby. Be a good girl and ride my cock." He's holding you by your waist, pinning you down roughly. 

"Fuck, Jay. Your cock is so deep in me." You continued bouncing up and down, grinding back and forth on his cock from time to time whenever your legs would start to get tired.

Jay sensed that you’re starting to slow down so he started thrusting deep and sloppily into your core. You tried to meet his every thrust, biting your lips to keep yourself from screaming.

“Jay, I’m close.” He wrapped his right hand on your neck gently, while his left hand stayed at your waist. You're left at his mercy at this point. He’s in charge of the moment, giving you a smack on your ass as he growls from the intense pleasure.

“Cum for me, y/n.” With a couple of thrusts, you reached your orgasm, your walls convulsing around Jay’s cock that sent him to the edge as well.

He stayed inside you for a moment as both of you tried to catch your breath and then he pulled out after, discarding the condom in the trash bin.

He helped you get up and prepared a warm bath for you to enjoy. He knows that both of you just entered a complicated situation but he doesn’t regret it. As long as he’s with you, nothing else matters. 

[dawniebb]

We Need to Talk About Evie

but do we though?

OKAY SO.

To the anon who asked if we were making more content, this is it :)

Let’s just say that this was another sort of marathon about the canon divergence universe I share with @healing-winston-pratt ! And this one included two lists, a drawing and a fic :) which is this one. Basically, a “Maggie is Evie” reveal bc I love to hurt myself and other people. I wrote this MONTHS ago :) but still, I hope you like it! <3

For background:

Why is Winston alive and why do Nova and him live with Leroy?

And some other things related to the canon divergence universe, but NOT to this fic:

About Evander’s family

Their portrait: https://healing-winston-pratt.tumblr.com/post/626983013669044224/sandra-obrien-wade-and-arthur-evander-wade

We absolutely don’t need to talk about Evie right now bc we’re having a hard time already, but here we go :)

@novadreamer95438 , @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff there you go! (And @obsidianfr3sk bc I saw your tags about the fics jsjsjs and @jacihayle, but, in both your cases, you haven’t asked to be tagged and we’re doing it in case you wanted to get the notification, hence, if you want to be removed from the tag list, just notify us, that’s totally fine <3 )

They were sitting across the table, and it was super uncomfortable.

Nova thought about a married couple who was about to tell their grown ass child they were getting a divorce, even though the idea of an universe where for some reason Winston and Leroy were the same age and decided to get married absolutely repulsed her.

However, as disgusting as that sounded, that was what they looked like. They were even sitting next to each other, and while Winston tried to smile a bit, Leroy looked dead inside.

Not that he were physically able to look in some other way.

Damn.

She was used to all of this. These situations. These types of scenes.

And yet, she wanted it to be over once and for all. These had been the longest 5 minutes of her life. So long she even had to look at her clock to check how many minutes had passed, because she was almost sure they had been sitting there for at least 15.

But no. 5 minutes.

5 suffocating and eternal minutes.

Finally, Winston sensed and acknowledged this was getting kind of weird and, while straightening his back, he spoke in a fake upbeat voice.

“So… “He said.

Then his tone felt flat and his voice turned into nothing, because it disappeared. Like that. After his first word, he was out of courage again. And he stayed there, with his mouth half-open.

But Nova couldn’t tolerate this any longer, so this time she took (or at least tried to) the lead.

“So?” She asked with a determinate, almost demanding tone. “I was kinda in the middle of something, so… if you guys could…you know, tell me what did you call me for?”

Technically, she wasn’t lying. She was in the middle of something. It wasn’t work-related, but still it was something.

Nova tended to take her inventions, her personal projects, pretty seriously and Winston and Leroy were more than aware of that, and since she knew that, she found it very rude of them to interrupt her; to take her out of her zone so they could all sit around the table in an awkward and tense silence, listening to the sound of their own breaths. That is, she wasn’t usually this this harsh towards them, but they had managed to put her in a bad mood.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course you wanna know what is it that we called you for.” Winston sniffed, lacing his fingers together on the table. He looked…no, he acted nervous.

Nova didn’t know what he was about to say or what they were trying to tell her, but she was sure as hell that, after this, Winston would have to talk to his therapist, as he was continuously clearing his throat to stop his fake high-pitched tone from coming out instead of his real voice.

“We need to talk.” He concluded.

Nova snorted, while Leroy rubbed his face so hard she could see the trace of his hand on his own skin…As if he were helping much to the situa…

“Goddamn. Don’t do that. It’s not like you’re being too helpful.”

Thank you.

“I know.” Leroy said in a monotonous tone. “However…”

“No. Please. Just stop. I’m shaking and you’re just making it worse. If you’re not gonna do anything to help then stop grimacing at me or get the fuck out.”

“Man.”

“You act like an old, adult-sized, grumpy toddler. Grow up.”

Nova bit her lip, trying to convince herself this wasn’t funny, even though it was. In the past, being aware Winston was mad would’ve been extremely scary (The fact he was kind to her didn’t mean he could be underestimated. Winston had easily been the most dangerous Anarchist after Ace and Ingrid) but right now it was just…this. He could have a bad temper if he put his mind into it, though he would move on after like 30 minutes or so.

And Leroy knew that too, so he didn’t get offended.

That, and the fact that it was extremely hard to make Leroy feel offended.

Winston closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to get his chill back and align his freaking chakras.

Nova hissed. She had had this idea for a couple of minutes now, but she decided that it was the time to spit it out because, besides being eager to go back to the basement, she could feel the stress levels were getting out of control and they were at the point where they soon would start killing each other.

“If this is about The Talk.” Nova said, and once their attention was back at her, she repeated, air quoting:

“The Talk.”

“We know what you’re referring to.” Leroy nodded.

“Yeah. So…there’s no need for that.” She assured. “I already know about that stuff. Honey gave me a really graphic lecture back in the day and, not to offend you guys, but I’m not sure I want to go through that again. I appreciate the intention, but…”

“It’s not about that.” Leroy said. Cold, almost like he wanted her to shut up. Nova knew there was no use in feeling attacked or bad because that was the way Leroy usually spoke to everyone. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge in her stomach. In Leroy’s mind, from what she had heard, seen and experienced, she didn’t fit in the everyone category.

“Oh.” She gulped. “What is it, then?”

Leroy stared at her, Nova stared at Winston when Leroy’s stare was too heavy, and Winston stared at Leroy too.

So good ol’ Cyanide had no other option but to open his mouth again.

“We need to talk about Evie.”

And the world went numb. Her world. Her entire, little, shattered world.

And even though everything around it was in flames, Nova’s body, which held her little world, felt frozen. She was made of ice.

And she felt extremely cold.

She looked at both Winston and Leroy with all the hatred she was yet to dispose; all the resentment she still carried within; all the pain that still ate from her insides from now and then; until she realized she had skipped at least 5 seconds breath, and her legs responded, helping her up from the chair almost against her will.

They had no right.

They weren’t allowed to mention that. Not yet.

Not when they knew she was yet to heal.

Not when they knew they were ripping open an old, painful scar.

“No, we don’t.” She stated directly. “The only person I’ll talk to about that at the moment is my therapist and if you don’t like it it’s not my obligation to apologize. You’ll have to deal with that. You’re grown ass men.”

This time it was Winston’s turn to rub his face until there has a hand-shaped red line all the way through it.

“Wow, you fucking genius.” He barked at Leroy. “So sensitive and subtle, as al—“

“YOU’RE GROWN ASS MEN!” Nova slammed the table, feeling so furious she didn’t even find the time to cry.

Mostly because didn’t feel like crying.

Instead, she felt like screaming in a pillow until her throat bled.

“HEY! FINE, FINE! CALM DOWN!” Winston reached for her hand, grabbing her by the wrists. “CALM DOWN, YOU’LL HURT YOUR HANDS!”

She stopped. Not because she was more calm, but because Winston looked genuinely worried and she couldn’t help but feel…something.

Nova breathed like an enraged bull until her lungs ached and Winston’s gaze felt bigger than her, along with his hold.

Just like when she was little, during stormy nights.

Winston and Leroy were always the best at calming her down. And even now, no matter how hard she tried, every time they did stuff like this she went numb. A weird type of numb.

A good type of numb.

“Good.” Winston sighed. “Would you mind to sit down?”

She did it, as her body suddenly felt heavy as a rock; her body touched the chair again, and she shivered but tried to act normal.

“I’m sorry.” Leroy said in a hoarse voice. And even if she expected something more, that something never came, but Nova understood anyways.

Still, she didn’t find the strength to answer.

Winston rubbed his hands against each other and gently pushed his glass of water across the table towards her, but although her throat was dry, she refused to drink from it. She still had something called pride.

“What do you want?” She asked coldly.

“Nova, look…”

“What do you want?” She asked again, annoyed. “Do you want to know about how I left her to die?”

Winston shut his eyes closed as if he had received a really painful punch, and he scratched his forehead.

“What do you want from me? What do you want to know?” Nova begged from them to answer. “Please. I don’t know what do you want or why do you want it but let’s just…get this over with.”

“We don’t want anything from you.” Leroy started, this time in a less hurtful and soulless tone. “We’ve already caused you too much harm all over the years and we’re trying to make it up to you. Hence, I apologize for broaching the subject in such a sudden and violent way.”

Nova’s lips trembled, just like her hands.

“Fine.” She said.

Just…fine.

Nothing else to say.

Not at the moment, at least.

“And I apologize in advance for having to bring this up in the first place.” Winston licked his lips and cleared his throat. Again. “We even consulted your doctor and everything and, needless to say, we were advised not to act like asses about it. But somebody did anyway so…”

“You’ve thrown so many bricks at me I could build a wall with them, Winston. Thanks for your cooperation.”

“You’re welcome, you insensitive piece of shit.”

As fast as he directed his attention to Leroy, he directed it to Nova again, who just sniffed, blinded by rage.

“You talked to my doctor.” She said. Not as a question, but rather as a statement.

Because that’s what it was, and she wasn’t going to apologize for that either.

“We did.” Winston nodded. “Remember that she provided us with her contact and stuff, in case you…”

“I know.” Nova massaged her temples. “I know.”

“She didn’t provide any confidential information, nor did she give us any type of sensitive details about your sessions.” Leroy assured. “So there’s no need for you to be…worried about that.”

She wasn’t worried about that. She trusted them enough, even if sometimes she wasn’t willing to admit it. At least, she trusted them enough to know that, if someday her therapist saw herself in the necessity to tell them something, anything about what happened during the appointments, she wouldn’t be mad.

Not too much, at least.

But this was just too out of character even for them. And, not to sound harsh, but she would’ve expected it from someone like Hugh. Not them. Not Winston and Leroy.

“I’m not.” She said, trying to remain in a neutral tone. “So…please, please just tell me what’s this issue that’s so delicate you had to talk to my therapist before talking to me.”

They stared to each other for a second, before Leroy handed the folder he’d been keeping under his arm to Winston; the one she hadn’t paid too much attention to, as she thought it was…normal paperwork stuff.

Winston didn’t hand it to Nova. Instead, he put it on the table and placed both his hands on top of it.

“So. You’ve been told about and even helped with the updates to the Renegades system.” Winston said. High-pitched.

“Correct.” Nova’s eyelid was twitching.

“And…well, you know, since you are…a Renegade.” Winston coughed. “They had to take DNA samples from you to…”

“Upload it to the system. Let’s skip that part. I know it.” Nova rolled her eyes. She had no idea why they were going around the topic so much. “I’m the one they took samples from. I had to sign for permission. There’s no need to explain something I did. “

“Okay, okay. I’m…I’m sorry. You’re right.” Winston sniffed. “But…we need to mention it because…well…”

“They took samples from all the current Renegade recruits:  Members of the Council, patrol units, the janitorial team, the Headquarters staff…” Leroy took a deep breath. “….Winston and I had been suspicious about this for a while but still…”

“Still, we didn’t know.” Winston nodded. “….Gosh. This is going to be fucking hard.”

Nova crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s going to be hard?” She laughed sarcastically. “And what does Evie even have to do with this? What is this all about?”

When they just looked at her, she thought she might have been missing something. Or failing to catch something in that case. Not that she cared at this point.

“Nova. The thing is that…” Winston took a deep breath. “We…”

A nervous laugh escaped his mouth, while Leroy played with the fabric of the tablecloth, absently.

“We…uhm…” He gulped. “We got…a match.”

She heard and comprehended the structure of the sentence, but it didn’t make sense at all in her head. So, the best answer she could think of was:

“A match of what?” in a harsh tone, arching her eyebrow as she tilted her head to the side.

“What the fuck are you two talking about?”

Winston hissed, and Leroy cleared his throat.

“A match, Nova.” Leroy clarified.

And after remaining in silence for at least three seconds, he spoke again, just because Winston refused to do it.

“A DNA that matches yours. And that, comparing it to the samples they took from Evie when she was born…it…uhm….also matches hers.”

She heard the words through a blank noise that invaded her ears. Deafening.

She felt the hot tears creating a vessel through her vision, as her arms tightened around her chest. And somehow, the answer was still clear as water.

“That’s bullshit.” She declared. “Those tests are wrong because the Renegades are still negligent as fuck. So that’s pure bullshit. That’s pure and utter…”

“Nova…”

“I was there the day she died and I could’ve saved her but I didn’t so she fucking died.” She stated, calm. “That’s the way things are. That’s what happened. That’s what…”

“Nova.”

“Nova. Listen.” Leroy stared directly at her eyes.

And this time he looked absolutely destroyed, so she listened.

For once.

“Her name’s Margaret White.” He said, slowly. “That’s Evie. That’s your sister.”

Her heartbeat turned into a drum, beating so fast it made her whole body ache. She turned into a car about to crash against a fence. A rollercoaster. A train wreck. A hurricane about to happen. And above all that noise, all she could hear were the bullets; all she could touch was Evie’s soft baby skin; all she could feel was the apartment’s floor beneath her bare feet; all she could smell was her mother’s blood above her brow; all she could remember was Magpie’s face.

All she could recognize was the bullet she carried around in her pocket.

All she could remember was how that kid had stolen her bracelet. Twice.

How she stared at her so full of disdain, directing a different type of sneer at her every single time; so resented with everyone, even with herself people she didn’t know.

Magpie, that Magpie, was the little baby Nova had mourned for more than half of the years she had been alive.

Magpie, who hated her and everyone else.

“Oh, Nova…” Winston tried to reach for her hand, but Nova slapped his’ away as hard as she could, careful not to release her power on him, just because she wanted to confront both of them.

“That’s bullshit.” She repeated, frantic. “It can’t be true.”

All she’d done.

“It can’t be true. Those papers are wrong.”

All she’d suffered.

“It’s not true.”

All she’d risked to avenge her sister.

“You’re lying.” She said, tears streaming down her face, begging they were lying.

All she’d done and risked…just for her beloved little sister to be alive.

Her chest went up and down, violently, as she covered her ears to avoid hearing their voices.

“NO!” She screeched, getting up from her chair. “YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE LYING! YOU ALL ARE NOTHING BUT…!”

“NOVA, PLEASE, CALM DOWN!”

She slammed her fist on the table once again, as she felt her whole body losing control. Shaking. Shivering. Trembling.

Crumbling apart along with her life.

Her lie of a life.

Her little sad world full of lies and grief.

And now grief was also a lie.

“YOU’RE FUCKING LYING!”

Couldn’t it had been, at least, somebody that loved her?

-.-

By the time the healer was gone, Simon finally noticed the little wounds in Winston’s hands. He also had bitten his nails until he reached his skin and it started to bleed.

And his face was soaked.

And that, even if it was odd to admit it, broke his heart. He was absolutely distraught, just like Leroy, even though Leroy was handling it way better.

If Simon hadn’t been through this many times, he probably would’ve reacted the same as Winston.

“Is she…?”

“Yeah. She’ll be fine.” Hugh cleared his throat.

It had happened so fast they didn’t even have time to put on their uniforms. They were here, with regular clothes, just because Leroy and Winston hadn’t figured who else to call.

“The healer gave her some sedatives. It’ll take a couple of minutes, but she’ll…she’ll be fine.” Hugh said, to which Winston hiccupped and nodded, even if he wasn’t crying anymore.

Leroy showed no reaction. He was staring at a blank space in the nearest wall.

“We figured …maybe you don’t consider it adequate that Adrian spends the night here, so…he already notified the rest of the team members and Tucker volunteered. You…know her, right?”

“We do.” Winston said in a hoarse voice. “The…girl with this… grappling hook, right? Ruby.”

“Err… not quite a grappling hook but yeah. That’s her.”

Oh my god, Hugh.

Later Simon would lecture him about how it was non polite to be this dense.

Right now, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the scene that could be seen through the ajar bedroom door.

Nova was kneeling on the carpet while Adrian hugged her from the back, covering her body with his’.

You’re lying.

You’re lying.

You’re lying.

That’s what she said. On loop.

And Stars, Simon wished they were.

[littleoldrachel]

i am burned out (i smell of smoke)

okay, look. I wasn’t gonna post this until it was FINISHED because i am trying to learn to actually finish my wips. but. the world is sorta falling apart and i hope that maybe i can help even one person feel temporarily less anxious about it all. 

i wrote this for @gumnut-logic‘s birthday and am now over a month late, so! good! (so sorry nutty, you’re so incredible at blessing us with your words, i just wanted to do something nice for you since you’re so so good to us)

my love for virgil tracy + my silent lurking in this fandom have brought this about. i never thought i’d be writing thunderbirds fanfiction and yet. here we are (my father would be so disappointed in me).

this is my first time writing these characters, as will become painfully clear. pls be nice to me, i am fragile lol. i am horribly aware that my virg is probably too ‘floppy’ as per your post, nutty, so sorry in advance! this is me whumping your boy emotionally and mentally, but i’m gonna fix him, i swear! there are five parts (i have written the first three). 

virgil is always written as being very good at taking care of his mental health, and it occurred to me that some of the best people at this have had to learn to be that way, and so I guess this is an exploration of that? anyway, have some virgil aggressively loving his family. 

brains isn’t in this and kayo isn’t much either sorryyy. oh my GOd shut up, here you go:

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) [on ao3]

summary: in which virgil falls apart, learns how to put himself back together, and realises he doesn't have to do it alone.

word count: 2.8k ish (part 1/5)

warnings: mental health issues

timeline: i suppose this is set in early TAG verse?  jeff is missing and nobody is Coping Well.

happy belated birthday, nutty!! <3

i.

He isn’t quite sure where it began. Somewhere between three back-to-back rescues, pulling a child’s body from thick, black mud, and failing to reach the scientist before smoke ravaged her lungs, a weight settles in his chest that none of his usual coping mechanisms can shift. 

To say it’s been a hard week would be an understatement, but then again, they’ve had hard weeks before. Any time a rescue mission turns into a recovery mission, they all feel it - how can they not? - but this time, this time is different. 

Perhaps it was seeing the kid’s mother break down completely at the sight of such a small corpse. Perhaps it was the abuse hurled at him and his brothers by the scientist’s girlfriend for failing to rescue her soulmate in time. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion and pain, perhaps it was feeling ribs break under the force of his CPR efforts, perhaps it was knowing that in spite of it all, it wasn’t enough. 

It’s like he can’t quite draw a full breath. Like his throat has half-closed and tears are creeping at the back of his eyes, but neither is willing to break the damn. It’s the heaviest kind of emptiness he’s ever known. 

And so Virgil forces it away - or if not away, then at least to one side - whilst he takes care of brothers who need to talk about the horrors they have just witnessed and the fresh guilt they now bear. He’ll take care of himself later (probably) and then he’ll finally be able to shift that god-awful weight on his lungs. It’s fine. 

*

Alan is easy enough to handle; Virgil’s pedestal will never be as high as Scott’s or John’s but he’s still Alan’s big brother, and Alan feeds on reassurance and praise. Virgil knows that both Scott and John will be in later to check on their youngest too, but for now, Alan needs him. 

“You did well today, kiddo,” Virgil says, leaning against the doorframe to Alan’s suite. His littlest brother is lying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. 

Alan blinks slowly, twists to meet his eyes. Overly-bright cornflower blues meet steady browns and Virgil catches the tremble of Alan’s lower lip with an aching heart. 

“You did, Allie.” Virgil strides across the room and has Alan scooped into a hug within seconds. “All those people are gonna wake up tomorrow because of you.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough, Virg,” whispers Alan. “So many people didn’t make it.” 

“I know.”

(The weight on his chest and struggle to breathe will never let him forget it). 

Alan sighs, rests his head on his brother’s broad chest. “I just - I keep remembering her face. When she realised I couldn’t save her. I close my eyes and she’s just - there.” He closes his eyes and digs the heels of his palms into them.

He’s so young. It’s not the first time that Virgil has had doubts about forcing this responsibility on a teenager, but it is the first time Alan’s watched someone die in his arms and none of Virgil’s carefully crafted words will change that. Especially not now, whilst the pain is raw and jagged and demanding to be felt - no, Virgil and his brothers will be helping him to untangle this over the next few weeks.

“Wanna play something?” he asks instead. 

The response is less enthusiastic than usual, but soon Alan has a fragile smile on his lips as he thrashes Virgil’s Princess Peach with Waluigi (and so what if Virgil deliberately chooses the tracks he knows he’s shit at just to make Alan chuckle when he falls off Rainbow Road again?). 

*

His water-loving brother won’t be so easy (though of course, there’s nothing easy about watching someone so young trying to carry the weight of the world). Still, Gordon is at least predictable in his frustrated misery and rolls his eyes as he sees Virgil coming towards the pool with a towel in hand. 

“I’m not in the mood, Virg,” he calls, before hurling himself underwater and sinking to the bottom of the pool. 

It’s Virgil’s turn to roll his eyes, but he kicks off his shoes, sits on the poolside and dangles bare feet into the water, waiting. When Gordon finally emerges from the water, annoyance flickers across his face at the sight of his waiting brother, and he turns, kicking away from Virgil with a powerful breaststroke. 

Virgil waits until Gordon’s swum four lengths before speaking. “How are you doing?”

Gordon’s perfect rhythm barely falters as he grabs his brother’s leg and yanks, pulling Virgil into the pool and immediately swimming away. Virgil shakes the water from his hair, internally cursing his stubborn-ass younger brother and treads water until Gordon reaches his end of the pool again. 

“How many lengths is that?”

Gordon ignores him, switching fluidly into butterfly stroke and splashing away from him once more. 

Virgil can’t help but sigh; his limbs are aching and his chest is heavy and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed. But his younger brother is hurting - emotionally, sure, judging by the way he’s slicing through the water like it’s done him wrong, but physically too if the minute winces are anything to go by. (And Virgil can’t stand it). 

The next time Gordon comes by, Virgil is ready. He seizes his brother around the middle, and bodily drags him to the edge of the pool. He doesn’t often use his size and strength against his brothers, but this time calls for it. Once out of the water, the fight goes out of Gordon, and he staggers, murmuring “ow, ow, ow, ow.”

“Come here, you idiot.” Virgil pulls Gordon into a shady spot by the loungers, and begins helping Gordon stretch out overworked muscles. Gordon hisses as Virgil presses down on his calf muscle. “Sorry, Gordo.”

“S’okay.” Gordon glares up at the sky. “Just stupid cramp.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil shakes his head. “Yeah, that or the fact you’re reliving your Olympic training after having been up for forty-eight hours straight.”

“You know if you keep doing that, your face will get stuck.”

Virgil pulls a hideous face, then grins in response to Gordon’s laugh. It feels good to smile, it shifts the weight on his lungs the tiniest bit. 

“Flip over and I’ll do your back.”

“Virgil Tracy, you’re a goddamn saint,” Gordon declares, obediently flopping onto his stomach. 

There’s a pause whilst Virgil runs expert hands over the rock-like knots in Gordon’s back and Gordon melts into the mattress. When Virgil next speaks, his voice is gentle even as his hands dig in: “You know that punishing yourself isn’t going to bring them back.”

Gordon tenses then sighs. “Damnit, Virg. Can’t a guy get a massage without psychoanalysis?”

But his voice is a great deal lighter than it would have been even half an hour before.

*

His wrists are aching by the time he drags himself out to the cliff edge where Kayo likes to perch. 

His brothers have different uses for this particular stretch of rock: Scott likes to end his morning runs here by stretching in the breeze off the waters. For John, it’s a spectacular place to stargaze, not least because it’s so very quiet and dark up here. Gordon can often be found diving off these rocks, cheered on by Alan, much to the constant stress of their oldest brother, who attributes more than seventy percent of his grey hairs to this cause. 

For Kayo, it’s a watchpost. Her stormy eyes skim the horizon for non-existent threats, calculating, calm, controlled. And after a bad rescue (or three), she sits and waits for hours at a time, gazing into choppy waves and brilliant sunsets with the loneliest eyes Virgil has ever seen. He’s supposed to sit with Kayo in silence until she tells him what she needs from him, be it a hug, his presence, or just distance. 

This time, she makes it clear the moment he pads towards her, fading into the rocks like she was never even there. Distance, then.

*

John is possibly the hardest to handle of all his siblings, purely because he’s the hardest to get a hold of. John knows Virgil’s antics only too well, knows that a meaningful conversation about how he feels is coming, and has therefore made himself scarce. 

 Virgil sighs as John misses (read: rejects) his third call in a row. Two can play at that game, Jonny.

Instead, he dials straight through to EOS. 

She answers him immediately, as usual. “Virgil. I have been anticipating your call.”

“You have?”

“You have all had unsuccessful missions. You always call after missions with a body count.”

Virgil swallows, fresh guilt rising in his throat, and forces it back down. 

“Please can you put me through to John, EOS?”

“Of course, Virgil.”

Silence for a second, and then John’s hologram appears. His red-headed brother is studiously avoiding eye contact, hands darting over controls in an anxious pattern.

“This isn’t a good time, Virgil, I’m busy rerouting some calls to local emergency services, and-”

“John.”

“-and there’s a call from Tehran that really needs me, so if that’s all-”

“John.”

Silence. 

“How long since you last ate?” 

John’s eyes meet Virgil’s and he looks away at once. “Uh… this morning?”

“Negative,” EOS chimes in, “last intake was twenty-six hours ago.”

John’s jaw clenches. “Thanks, EOS.”

“John, you need to eat.”

“Smother Brother.”

“I’m serious.”

EOS pipes up again, “John also needs to rest. He has been operating for twice the recommended period of time.” 

John glowers, but says nothing.

“Don’t make me set Scott on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Virgil raises his eyebrows and John sighs loudly in frustration. “I will. I will. I just - thinking about food makes me feel nauseous. Like…” He swallows, looks away. “Like I’m eating mud.”

The sharp hurt in Virgil’s heart twinges violently and he wishes more than anything he could wrap John up in a bearhug and stop the world from hurting him. “What if I’m here whilst you try?” he asks softly.

Another sigh. “Fine. But only if you eat something too,” John says. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that your stomach was growling even louder than Two’s engines on the way home.”

“Smother Brother,” Virgil’s voice is hopelessly fond, even as he goes to make a sandwich that he can’t face eating (which for him, is a bad sign - he who has forced down Grandma’s inedible chilli through sheer willpower and love). The bread is hard and tasteless, the filling bitter. He chokes down a half slice, focusing instead on the fact that his younger brother is carefully chewing at his toasted bagel, eyelids heavy. Eventually, John’s shoulders slump, and his head lolls back into slumber.

His work here is done. 

Well, almost -

“Hey, EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?” 

“Can you put that playlist I made him on a loop?”

“Of course, Virgil. Venus Bringer of Peace is now playing.”

There. 

*

His oldest brother is hurting. Virgil doesn’t need ESPN or whatever freaky connection Gordon and Alan accuse them of having to know that. 

There was a death toll, and therefore Scott will be hurting. Every life lost becomes a personal fault for the man, and nothing Virgil says or does will change that. They have this argument every two or three weeks, increasingly frequently as the months since their father’s disappearance have ticked into years. And he’s so very tired of rehashing the same words over again and again, he’s so tired of being utterly powerless against his brother’s borderline suicidal recklessness, he’s so tired of his uselessness in convincing Scott to stop treating his life like some replaceable trinket.

(So very, very tired).

And yet, Virgil stands in the doorway to his father’s office, bracing himself for yet another battle with his older brother.

Because taking care of the idealistic, brash, self-flagellating workaholic is what he does best - especially when said idealistic, brash, self-flagellating workaholic least wants it.

Scott is hunched over the desk, poring over debriefs with an almost-empty glass of something amber in his left hand. Virgil makes a mental note to re-encrypt the code to the drinks cabinet - Scott had cracked it far too quickly last time, but he doesn’t stand a chance against John…

“Hey, Scott,” he finally enters the room, but his brother doesn’t even spare him a glance. Virgil takes the seat opposite him - the one he used to sit in as his father waxed lyrical about his dream of an elite rescue organisation (it hurts) - and waits. 

After five or so minutes, Scott looks up blearily, blinking in surprise. “Virg? What are you - when did you-”

“It’s gone midnight, Scott. We agreed you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitches. He’s wound tight from alcohol and stress, and it hurts Virgil to see it.  “I have to get this done.”

“Not at one am, you don’t.”

“Don’t start, Virg, you know debriefs are essential - you know I have to - to -”

“To what?” 

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you have to get done? What’s so important that it can’t wait till you’ve at least slept?”

Scott breaks - quicker than usual (thank you, whiskey) which is a relief, because Virgil’s energy is down to its last droplets; hell, it’ll be a miracle if he even makes it to his room after this. 

“To figure out where we fucked up! To explain to the fire services that we did fuck-all for their rescue efforts! To figure out why I wasn’t fast enough to get to those children! I have to - to know,” he flings himself to his feet and begins pacing. “Fifty-four people died today, that’s fifty-four lives we should have saved, and I have to know why we failed so it never happens again.” He slams both hands down on the table, scattering papers to the floor. His eyes are wild and slightly bloodshot, and Virgil’s heart aches for the pain in those cerulean blues. 

The fight leaves Virgil’s spirit, because for once, he’s having a hard time reconciling his own failings with the number of bodies he’s pulled from mud and rock today. Usually, he is the first to reassure his brothers that they did all they could. But on a day like today, with the weight of whatever-it-is on his chest, it’s just not good enough. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave Scott alone in his pain. 

“What can I do?” Virgil asks quietly, and Scott stares at him. 

A pause. “Just - just be here,” Scott allows at last, sinking back into his chair. 

“Always,” Virgil says, and he means it, even through the fog of this exhausted, low, heavy feeling. 

“You okay?” Scott says, looking him over with a frown, and Virgil curses internally, because of course, Scott notices what none of his other siblings have. 

“As much as any of us are right now,” Virgil answers, as honestly as he can. Scott clearly doesn’t quite believe him, because he keeps shooting Virgil surreptitious glances laden with concern, but he lets it go. Perhaps he too lacks the energy to fight him on this. 

(It’s not enough and Virgil knows it. It’s not enough to stop his brother from working himself into an early grave and it’s not enough to blame poor construction work for the collapse of a tower block when he should have been able to save them).

(He’s not enough). 

*

He’s exhausted. He had thought he was shattered before, but now - 

The heaviness in his chest is a gaping wide hole, and the edges are raw and ragged from trying to hold himself together. His throat closes and clogs, but the tears won’t come, even as misery wells inside of him.

He looks blankly at the piano he sometimes uses to pull himself back from edges like these - edges that plunge down, down, down into an abyss he daren’t explore. Only the tug in his chest isn’t there. The canvas on his easel remains blank, his paintbrush untouched. Hell, even the idea of a nice, hot shower has him cringing at the effort and self-care involved.

What the hell’s the matter with him? 

He can’t quite explain it, and for one usually so attuned to others’ emotions, this awful lowness is startling. Because it’s more than lowness, and it’s more than heaviness - it’s more like a complete absence of feeling, an emptiness that he doesn’t know how to name. 

Perhaps, it will shift in the morning. Perhaps, this is the consequence of pushing yourself to over-exhaustion and beyond, and then expelling what little energy remains to support your loved ones. Sleep will help, Virgil tells himself. Rest makes everything better, you will be better in the morning.

[marshmallow-phd]

Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: Soon after your second birthday, your parents were killed and you were adopted by your father’s best friend, taken away to their home country where you lived your life in peaceful ignorance. As far a as you knew, your parents simply left you large fortune to be released to you once you reached your twenty-third birthday. At least, that’s all you thought you were inheriting. When a famously ruthless mafia boss discovers your existence, you are left at his mercy. While under his roof, you learn more about your father than you ever wished you had, including the part of your inheritance that made you the most valuable person in the underworld. Hidden in a bank in New York City were files that held the darkest secrets of the mafia families and everyone in their pocket. With another terrifying leader’s eyes trained on you, you’ll learn to watch your back… and guard your heart, before your father’s past becomes your doom.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I Final

**

It was unbearably warm when you woke up. Your eyelids fluttered open just a few centimeters from Junmyeon’s face. His features were fuzzy as your eyes tried to adjust to being active again. At some point in your sleep, you had cuddled up to his side and he’d wrapped an arm around your shoulders. With your head resting on top of a bruise on his shoulder, you were surprised you hadn’t woken him up.

Slowly sitting up, you looked down at his peaceful appearance.

A lock of hair from his bangs had fallen on his forehead sometime in the morning hours. You pushed it back, surprised at the softness against your fingers. The bruises on his face and torso had settled into a deep purple, which was better than the almost black shade they were a few hours ago. According to the digital clock on the nightstand, it was about twenty past two in the afternoon. It hadn’t been quite eight hours of good rest, but you were too alert to try and go back to sleep.

Junmyeon moaned, his mouth turning down to a frown as his sleepy eyes slowly broke open.

“Well, hello there,” you laughed. The way his face scrunched up, wrinkling the skin around his eyes and nose, was so child-like that it contrasted so much with the Junmyeon you knew. Or, at least, thought you knew.

Why couldn’t he look like the mobsters from the documentaries? The kind that were balding, overweight, and wore hideous, flashy clothing. That would be easy to hate and dismiss. Hell, you might have been able to just ignore his injuries and let him suffer. But this face came across as the boy next door; the kind that helped old ladies cross the street and laughed at their friend’s terrible jokes. When he wasn’t frowning or scowling, it was almost angelic.

“Have you been awake long?” he yawned, careful not to move too fast as he sat up.

You shook my head. “No, not at all. How are you feeling?”

“Stiff,” he answered honestly.

Massaging his shoulder with your hand, you could feel how tensed up his muscles had become from laying down so long. You threw the covers off of your legs and started to get out of bed when he caught your wrist.

“Where are you going?” He was practically pouting. What would his men say to a face like that coming from their fearless leader?

“I thought I’d be nice and start a warm bath for you.”

He raised an eyebrow cheekily. “For two?”

You ripped out of his grasp, throwing him a look. “No, for one. It’s to loosen up your muscles.”

“I can think of another way to loosen me up.” It was impossible to miss his implication.

Jumping up, you stared down at him in disbelief. “Did you drink while I was asleep? Is that why you’re acting like this?”

Junmyeon threw his hands up, playing innocent. You were used to Chen and occasionally Baekhyun’s flirty comments, but they never went quite that far.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I crossed a line.”

You folded your arms, completely confused by this one-eighty turn his personality had taken.

Sure, you’d been concerned about his wellbeing when he came home looking like he’d done a couple rounds of MMA. And, okay, you might have taken a small pleasure in seeing what was hidden underneath his shirts, but you’d kept those thoughts to yourself. One night sleeping next to each other just so you could make sure he didn’t stop breathing and suddenly he’d turned from cold mafia leader to the playful boyfriend.

You leaned down to get a better look at his eyes. They weren’t oddly dilated nor were the corneas turning colors. “Did you hit your head really hard last night? Did Junko rearrange some wires when he was beating on you?”

That wiped the smile off his face and gained you a flick on the forehead.

“Ow!” You rubbed the spot where his nail had stung the skin stung to try and sooth it. How childish.

“I didn’t appreciate that particular reminder,” Junmeyon grumbled. The playful look was gone now. His face was almost back to the part-annoyed, part-neutral expression you were used to. “And I was serious last night – or this morning, whatever – I think we should actually try to be more than just a piece of paper. Who knows, maybe this was fate?”

You rolled your eyes, straightening back up. Fate was not something you believed in. Chance, coincidence, luck; that’s how things happened. “That was a bit fluffy for a crime boss, don’t you think? Besides, you’re skipping a few steps. I’m not sleeping with you. In my opinion, we should start with the ‘friends’ part, huh? Besides, I thought I wasn’t your type?”

He flinched at that. “You’re right, sorry. And I only said that to make you stay at arm’s distance.”

You scoffed. Like would have tried to be any closer than that in the first place. No need to tell him that you had easily looked past him to a certain dimpled doctor. That wasn’t exactly a fight you wanted to have at this point. Nor did you want something bad to happen to Yixing. You didn’t think that Junmyeon would do something to harm him - he often called the boys his family - but you thought better than to take the chance. Besides, there was a more pressing matter to point out.

“And yet, you were the first one to fold.”

“Excuse me?” He stood up and stalked over to you. Damn it, how could he be so imposing? He didn’t have the height like Chanyeol and Sehun, but the way he held himself made him seem eight feet tall. “What do you mean I was folded first? You ran to me when you saw my face like Florence Nightingale.”

“Which I would have done if that was any of you guys, including Xiumin,” you pointed out. Although, you hardly knew his second-in-command. The underboss had hardly said two full sentences to you, but you still would have been concerned if he was hurt. Granted, you never would have asked to stay the night with him. Or any of the others. You think.

Shaking your head, you realized how juvenile the two of you were being. Why did it matter? This wasn’t a card game. And it’s not like you had actual feelings for him at the moment. Some attraction, sure, but so would anyone in their right mind after just one look at him. Well, when his face didn’t look like a Dalmatian. Add in the tiny bits of affection he’d thrown you way since yesterday morning and you were almost doomed.

On top of that, you did care about his wellbeing, not wishing him harm like some might think you should. You didn’t see him as a monster, not anymore. He may have kept you in the penthouse, but he didn’t confide you to a single room or make your life truly miserable. And you would prefer the penthouse to any more “social gatherings” like last night.

Thoughtfully, you spun the ring on your finger. You hadn’t taken it off when getting ready for bed, but now you wondered if maybe that was giving Junmyeon some of his newfound bravery towards you. He’d kept you in mind when picking out the piece of jewelry, meaning he’d somewhat been paying attention. If it was one of those fifteen carat diamonds with a thick band housing smaller jewels like the celebrities often sported, you never would have put it on in a thousand years. If you ever fell in a pool of water with it on, drowning was a huge possibility.

You couldn’t understand it, but you were coming to terms with your situation, possibly even finding a faint silver lining.

“I’ll start your bath that you’ll take by yourself,” you told him. “And I’ll make us something to eat. Are any of the guys coming over today?” Junmyeon shook his head a little too happily. “Okay, then.”

Turning around, you headed into the bathroom. It was hard to not focus on your jealousy when you got a good look at the tub. You hadn’t paid attention to the bathroom when looking for the first aid kit last night, but now you got an eye full.

The walk-in shower had dark, stone-like tile with a waterfall type shower head. The tub was more like a Jacuzzi, with jets and enough room for at least three occupants. You were a little tempted to say screw him and take a bath yourself.

Pushing that idea off for another time for maybe when Junmyeon wasn’t home, you let the water get steaming hot and fill up most of the way before calling that good enough. When you turned around, Junmyeon was out of bed and leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s all ready for you.” Eyes up on his face. Eyes up on his face.

As you passed him to exit the bathroom, he said, “Thank you.”

You nodded in reply and headed for the kitchen.

Food options were getting low, but at least the fridge wasn’t completely empty. There was some beef that was still good and a marinade that Kyungsoo had made that was incredibly delicious so that’s what you went with.

While rice was being prepared in the cooker, you chopped up the beef and stir fried it. The other little side dishes were easy enough to prepare, not taking too much time at all. In just a few minutes, the island was pretty much set and you were just waiting for the meat to finish up when Junmyeon entered the kitchen.

“That smells amazing,” he complimented sincerely.

“Thanks,” you said shyly. “Most of it is actually Kyungsoo’s work, like the sauce, but I guess you could say I did a good job at heating things up. There wasn’t much to work with. Someone will have to go to the store soon.” You wanted to say that you could go to the store, but the chances of that were slim and so you decided to keep the statement vague.

Junmyeon just nodded as he sat down, not mentioning who could be sent for the job. You made him a glass of water and let him get started on eating as you turned off the stove and started to rinse off some of the pans that had cooled.

“Just leave it,” he ordered. “We can clean it up later.”

It was hard to suppress a smile as you sat down across from him. He’d even said “we” like he planned on helping you. Was the job of washing dishes not too lowly for the mafia leader?

As you ate, you peeked up at Junmyeon in short, quick glances. His hair was still wet, giving it a dark sheen that complimented his skin. You were relieved to see him be able to move a little more freely without grimacing in pain every five seconds. It was still hard to make the images of Junmyeon fit together in your head. They were so opposite one another that anyone else might think you were talking about two different people. Or had some sort of Jekyll and Hyde situation on your hands.

The two of you finished lunch and Junmyeon graciously dried the dishes after you’d washed them and then put them away in their proper places. It was hard to keep your mouth shut, your brain oh-so wanting to make a snarky comment about him doing any sort of cleaning, but you kept your mouth shut. Getting along was not going to be easy after developing a sarcastic defense against him.

Once that chore was done, you relocated to the living room, settling on the couch. The two of you were facing each other, chatting on like it was normal.

“So, before all this, how much did you know about your father?” Junmyeon asked cautiously, turning the subject away from Xiumin’s apparent obsession with cleanliness.

You let out a long breath. It was the first time anyone had actually asked about your parents. The boys never brought it up and while you were growing up strangers just assumed it was a sensitive topic.

“To me, he was just your typical corporate lawyer. I only had pictures to go by, the ones that Taegun and Hyunmin had brought back when they went to go get me. He seemed normal, nothing too secretive about him. Just an average, every day father providing for his family.”

“Those are always the ones to look out for,” Junmyeon remarked.

Telling him you would be right back, you ran to your room and took out the photo you’d shoved into the drawer. You didn’t think that you would touch it for a long time – if ever again – but something made you want to show it to Junmyeon. On a whim, you also grabbed the album from the nightstand.

You handed Junmyeon the picture frame as you sat back down, leaning against your elbow on the back cushion.

“Okay,” Junmyeon whistled, examining the subjects in the photo. “I see what you mean. You’re right, very normal.” He chuckled. “You look like your mom. In fact, it’s a little scary.” Holding up the frame to your face, he looked back and forth between you and the photo.

You shoved it down, pursing your lips. “That’s what everyone says when they see pictures of her. Like her little clone.”

“What did she do?”

You shrugged. “She stayed home, as far as I know. She was a political science major but didn’t really do anything with it. My parents married pretty soon after graduating college and then had me. Most of the pictures I have are of just the two of us. She seemed happy, smiling at the camera, but that’s hardly evidence if she really was.” You frowned, thinking of the kind of person she might have been; if you would have gotten along with her had she been the one to raise you. Would you have had more in common than just your faces? “I hope she was.”

Sensing your change in mood, Junmyeon placed his hand on your knee. Even through the blanket thrown across your lap, you could feel its warmth.

“I’m sure she was.” He put the frame down on the coffee table. Smiling a little, his gaze was down on the floor as if he was thinking back to something. “My mother was happy. She loved my father, no matter what trouble he got into.”

“How did all this start?” you asked, curious about the events that led you all here, to this moment. “Did your father build all this?”

Junmyeon shook his head. “No, my grandfather is responsible for all this. Things were hard during the war. People needed protection and something to turn to for hope. My grandfather took advantage of that need, building his empire. Back then it was more about followers and he had several families underneath him. Things shifted when my father took over. That’s when it became more about territory and having control of certain goods and transportation.”

You took in everything he was saying. This life, it wasn’t just about breaking the law and living glamorously. Yes, the money was a big part, but it seemed to center more on control and benefits for the whole, like a company. That’s what all this was, in the end, wasn’t it? Each member had their own role to play, working in sync with the others to make sure the whole machine stayed together. While the ends might not justify the means, you found yourself admiring the system a bit.

“In the end, it wasn’t the constant fight with the other families that took him,” Junmyeon admitted.

You straightened up, surprised at the turn of conversation. “How did he die?”

Junmyeon took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers, perhaps to distract himself. “Heart disease. He didn’t take of himself very well and it all caught up with him. It hit my mother the hardest. She loved my father so much, she’d left her family behind for him.”

Intrigued by this love story, you scooted closer to listen. “How did they meet?”

“My mother’s father was a rising politician,” he kept his eyes down, focused on his distracting task. “They happened to be at a fundraising event that my father was throwing. My maternal grandfather hated being there, but he had to make an appearance since it was a legitimate fundraiser for the orphanages and he needed a good image. Their family came from money and so he needed to connect with the common people in order to get their votes and the people loved my father for the work he put back into the neighborhood. It was an open secret, what my father’s family did, but my mother didn’t care. She took one look at my father and knew she would never love anyone else.”

It was easy enough to picture, the couple meeting and the air turning warm and suddenly everyone else faded away until it was just the two of them standing there with eyes connecting, never to let go again. It was a scenario you’d read a hundred times, but the feelings behind them was something you had never experienced.

“She sounds lucky to have found love so easily.”

Junmyeon scoffed, dropping your hand. “Finding it was easy, keeping it took its toll and had its consequences.”

You bobbed your head in understanding. Love could only take so much and Junmyeon’s mother probably had to fight every day to hold on to her law-breaking husband. “Where is your mother?”

“She has dementia.” He took in a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair. The ends had dried by now, but a few strands stood up from the gesture, making it messy. “It’s still in the early stages, but she has to constantly be watched to make sure nothing happens to her. One time she almost burnt her house down because she forgot the stove was on. Another time, I found her pulled over on the side of the highway because she didn’t know where she was. I placed her in a care facility down in Busan, so she’d be away from the danger here in Seoul.”

Your heart was breaking for him. He loved her so much. It was evident all over his face and the way his shoulders slumped, thinking about how he had to send her away. You could almost imagine little Junmyeon clinging to his mother on his first day of school or playfully swatting her hand away when she tried to fix his hair. That kind of sight was something you wanted to witness. The beautiful bond between this man in front of you and his mother, who sounded like a saint or an angel.

“Do you think–” you stopped. Perhaps it would have been too bold of you to ask. “Never mind.” Playing with the hem of the blanket, you kept your eyes down. You feared that he might get mad at your request or think you were overstepping. Granted, he overstepped first this morning, but there was difference between his obnoxious flirting and this.  

He groaned. “I hate it when you do that. Can’t you just tell me what’s on your mind without me having to prod it out of you?” He even tapped on your forehead for emphasis.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to ask it.

Huffing, Junmyeon pulled your hand away from the blanket that you were fidgeting with and tilted your chin up. “(Y/n).”

“Fine,” you pouted. “I was going to ask if I could go with you, next time you visit her. I’d like to meet her.” Whatever reaction you were expecting, you weren’t ready for what you received.

It made Junmyeon shine. His smile grew so big it turned into an eye smile you’d never seen from him before. He’d moved with speed you wouldn’t think he was capable of in his current condition as he practically leapt you and pulled you into his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. Just as you were about to lift your arms and return the hug, he pulled away.

“I would want nothing more,” he said quietly, his brown eyes boring into yours. “And I know she would love to meet you too.” Leaving you stunned, he sat back, a relaxed expression on his face as he continued to stare at you.

You shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with his unwavering attention. “What?”

“Where did you come from?” he sounded fascinated, like you were an alien that was floating down from the sky.

You scrunched your eyebrows. “Um, I think we’ve already had this conversation.”

He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. Settling his eyes on the album you’d put on the coffee table, he picked it up and started leafing through it.

“You have a lot of places you want to go,” he acknowledged.

Sucking in your lips, you cleared your throat. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to travel. I think being an outsider my whole life, I’ve just wanted to find somewhere that I could maybe call home.” You stopped the page flipping when he came to the pictures of France’s countryside. Pointing to the word scribbled at the top, you explained, “I fell in love with that word as soon as I heard it. I think it was in a movie or something. It’s French. Dépaysement. It basically means homesickness, but it’s deeper than that. Like, disorientation. A longing for your home country. Except, I’m not sure where that is. I feel like it should be the same as my parents, but I’m not confident that it is. So, I want to find it.”

Junmyeon caressed the pictures that held the green hills and fast forests of a country far away. In complete seriousness, he looked up at you and stated, “I’ll take you someday.”

Your jaw dropped. When Chanyeol had told you that Junmyeon liked to travel and he might take you along, you hadn’t really believed him that Junmyeon would take a risk like that. That would have taken some effort on Junmyeon’s part to put some interest in you as a human being. But now, with the way he said it and the look of genuine care in his eyes, you could actually hope. And not even the thought of sharing a hotel room put you off.

“We’ll start with America.”

Then you deflated.

Of course.

“Right,” You collapsed back into the couch. “So, I can get the files.”

Junmyeon scrambled up so he was leaning in and grasped your hands, realizing what you’d concluded. “No, that’s not what I meant. We can put that off. Once I can get things settled here in the next few months and your birthday comes around, we can take a nice honeymoon to California or Washington. We won’t touch New York until you want to.”

You didn’t believe him. You didn’t believe that three short weeks, or even less than twenty-four hours had changed his mind about the importance of those files. Not to mention, he still planned the wedding for around your birthday, the biggest piece of the puzzle. He’d worked too hard, planned too much to just let them fall to an afterthought. The only reason he even brought you here in the first place was for the secrets those papers held. You weren’t that special to make him forget it all.

Because you would avoid New York for the rest of your life. You would put it off every time he asked, every time it was brought up in a conversation. If it was truly up to you, you would leave that safe deposit box to rot.

But you let him think that you took him at his word, giving him a small smile. He patted your head, returning the smile. One step forward and two steps back.

[katebacks]

Ddaeng - Min Yoongi (M) Part 1

— pairing | Min Yoongi /Reader — word c | 1,709 — genre | Idol! Yoongi. Smut. — summary | Yoongi just performed and goes straight to the dressing room to meet you and continue the show, but a more private one.  — warnings/tags | Bad words. Explicit sex.  This cover was made by @gotyouintrouble and I really loved it. This fic was inspired by my diva, @minstrivia, thank you very much for the inspiration.  It was supposed to be just one chapter, but I ended up getting excited and this story will have two parts. 

Part 1 | 

You couldn’t be more prouder of your boyfriend and his friends as you were at that moment. You were with Yoongi for almost 5 years and knew how the BTS journey had been until they became famous all over the world, you knew how they'd struggled for it, and knew how important that was to them. 

At that moment, the three rappers of the group were on stage, performing the song that for you was now one of your favorites. Ddaeng. You loved how Yoongi's voice fit the letter perfectly, how he sounded extremely sexy with that melody. His movements with his arms, his body moving, his facial expressions, whatever he was doing, made you crazy. God, you loved that man. There wasn’t a day in your life that you didn’t thank the universe for putting you and him on the same path, there wasn’t a day you didn’t thank all the gods for having made that guy with porcelain skin pouring iced coffee on your clothes 5 years ago.

On the stage, Yoongi felt all that adrenaline and as always, he did his best to impress everyone who was there, but mainly to impress his girl who was in the backstage watching him. During the performance, he made a point of looking directly at the camera, knowing that you were there on the other side, freaking out with his show. He loved Army, and he knew that all his fans loved him too, but he also knew that you were his number one fan.

Ah! How he loved you. He loved you for everything, for having been his safe haven for so many years, for not giving up on him when he had identity crises and when he said that he would never be no one in life, he loved you for always having him motivated, even in the worst moments of his life and of course, for having the best sex he had ever tasted in his life. Yoongi loved how you fucked. He loved when your body moved over his, loved how you moaned his name and loved when you held his body, wanting more and more. He wanted to be with you forever.

After the song ended, the three of them left the stage, both sweaty and panting and were welcomed by the other members who were about to enter the stage to perform 'The Truth Untold' and 'Dimple'. And as RM and Jhope went to their respective rooms to change and rest for a few minutes before returning to the stage with full force, Suga walked quickly to his room where he would change and as soon as he came in and his eyes hit you, sitting watching the television, watching the Vocal line now invading the stage, the spark that was burning inside his chest, turned into a great fire and he walked over to you, pulling off his sweater and tossing it to the floor, holding your wrist and pulling you toward the small bathroom that was there.

As he closed the door behind him kicking it, he grabbed your waist and sat you on top of the sink.  He pressed his lips to yours, thrusting his hands through your hair, pulling it hard, and biting your lips with desire while you were already with your hands on the zipper of his pants, opening it and pushing down, revealing his hard and pulsing cock.

"Fuck, I've been waiting for this since I got on that damn stage." He whispered between your lips before pulling your hair, making you tilt your head back, giving him room to bite and suck your neck.

"Let me suck you." You moaned, but he grunted in denial, holding his chin and making you look directly into his dark, lush eyes. His sweaty forehead and his heavy, peppermint-like breath were driving you crazy.

"You have no idea how much I want your delicious little mouth on my dick right now, but we have no time. I need to fuck you and cum inside you before I go back to the stage or everyone will notice my hard dick inside my pants and that's not good at all. So be a good girl, let me cum in your pussy and later when we get to the hotel, I promise to make you cum for the rest of the night. Deal?"

“Deal.”

He kissed you once more before pulling you a little farther, making your butt stand on the edge of the sink. He knelt in front of you, placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs, starting to kiss the inside of your thighs, leaving you desperate for him to kiss another place. Thank God you were wearing dress. Yoongi stroked you over your panties before pulling it to the side and touching your clit with his tongue, making you grab his hair and lean your head in the mirror behind you, biting your lip to keep from moaning. He didn’t take long, just enough to make you even wetter, because he didn’t want to hurt you. When he stood again, he ran his hands under your thighs and held them firmly.

"Push your panties aside, baby." And so you did, pulled your panties aside, giving him room to push his hard, big cock into you, slowly, making him lean his forehead against yours, groaning as he felt you stretching around him. And when he was totally in, Yoongi began to move his hips quickly, not having the time and patience to fuck you with love at that moment, he just wanted to see you come around him, moaning his name like you always did. You grabbed his shoulders and pressed your lips trying to the utmost not to scream with the force he was beating inside you.

"Oh my god ... Yoongi" You groaned huskily, and he shook your lips with his, in a desperate way to keep you silent, before anyone would hear you both. He was too jealous to let that happen. "Fuck!" You exclaimed when he hit hard on a spot inside you, and even though that grunt made his cock harden even more, he bit his lip, annoyed that you were making noise.

"Be quiet, or someone will hear us," he whispered and you opened your eyes to the look at him with a defiant look.

"And? Don’t you want your friends to hear how your bitch moans? " You asked and Yoongi thrusted hard in the same moment he held your mouth knowing that you would scream and with the other hand he drew the back of your head as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Yeah, I don’t want them to listen to my moaning bitch," he said slowly, his eyes blazing as he thrust slowly and hard into your pussy, making you drop a muffled scream with every thrust. “You are fucking mine, and i am the only one allowed to listen these hot moans. Get it, baby?”

“Yes, Yoongi oh shit.”

Soon Yoongi pulled you out of the sink and turned your back on him, making you bend over the sink to raise your hip and start pounding into you from behind, holding your waist and trying to keep you as close as possible.

"Damn Yoongi, go slow or I will not get ... fuck." You screamed when he thrusted at once, making you see stars. He then held your neck, choking you, pulling you back, causing you to bend back and lean your head against his shoulder,  as he banging hard from behind, staring straight into your eyes, watching you frown more and more as he added strength and speed of the thrusts.

"Your. Pussy. Fucking. Good. Fuck! "He moaned, seeing your eyes that poured desire, making your body shiver and making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. "You're so tight, baby. Even though I fuck you hard every night, even if my dick stretch you up, you're still so tight for me, shit, I wanna fuck you forever."

"Hyung, are you here?" Suddenly you heard Namjoon's voice coming from outside the bathroom and you tensed, but Yoongi just covered your mouth and kept going.

"Yes," he said hoarsely, taking his free hand to your clit massaging it, making your whole body shiver again and your legs start to shake when you felt like you was about to cum.

"We came back to the stage in four minutes. Are you ready? "Namjoon's voice was closer to the bathroom door and you widened your eyes, which made Yoongi laugh.

"Almost. I'll meet you in a few minutes. "He said and smiled when he saw you frowning and closing your eyes tightly, feeling your cunt squeeze around his cock when you started to cum and had to squeeze his arm to not scream. He smirked.

"Alright, we'll be waiting." And so he heard the door of the room being closed, giving him the freedom to fuck you again with all the strength he had.

"You dirty girl. You liked listening to my leader's voice while you were being fucked, didn’t you? you liked the feeling of almost being caught sliding on my dick, you little bitch? Hm?” He asked in a hoarse voice, not taking his hand off your clit, making you roll your eyes, feeling that it was too much. “Fuck baby. I’m gonna cum.” He groaned and a few seconds later, you felt his cock throbbing inside you. Yoongi stopped moving and hugged your trembling body, kissing your shoulders as you breathed deeply trying to regain your breath. “I love you, you know that, right?”

You smiled and nodded.

“I love you too." You said turning your face a little and kissing his lips. "Now go, you have to run back to the stage, or they'll wonder why you're gone."

"You made a mess on my dick, baby." He said as he began to put on his clothes. You laughed and put your hand on his chest, innocently.

"You want me to get down on my knees and clean it for, Daddy?"

He narrowed his eyes and cupped your chin, giving you a wet kiss, that lit your fire again.. You wanted more.

"Later, baby."

all rights reserved © katebacks | 2019 — no reposting and/or modifying of any form on any medium is allowed. no translations allowed.

[ohnojustimagine]

And After All

Elias Samson/Reader Fluff (for real, this is so sappy); 1815 words

@thephenomenonalkingofthebrogues suggested Elias singing Wonderwall to someone he was in love with and I got inspired.

***

Elias isn’t the type to be tied down, you realize that. He might not go by ‘The Drifter’ anymore, but it’s still in his nature to wander, to need the freedom of the open road.

“I don’t do relationships,” he tells you, right from the start, and normally that’s a massive red flag, but he’s not an asshole about it, not like other guys you’ve been with who say that.

And he’s hot (so hot) and you really kind of like him, so you let it be, telling yourself you’re content to have something casual. For now, at least. You have your own life, after all, and it’s actually not so bad to have a guy who doesn’t demand anything from you, who gives you enough space to work on yourself and your own ambitions.

He’ll show up at your apartment every week or two, stay for a day or so, then pack up his guitar and be on his way. And maybe you’ll feel a little empty inside when he leaves, but it always passes.

Always.

Eventually.

***

For the first few months, you just assume he’s fucking other girls. You’ve never even been to a wrestling show, but you’ve heard stories about the women there. 'Ring rats,’ you discover they’re commonly known as, when you look it up. It’s a demeaning phrase, and you can’t imagine Elias ever calling them that, but then, you think, you have no idea how he behaves when he’s not with you.

“What are the girls like?” you ask one day. You’re sprawled out on your bed, and Elias is sitting beside you with his guitar, strumming a few tentative chords, humming quietly, writing one of his songs, you assume.

“What girls?” he says, not glancing up.

“The girls at your shows. You know,” you say, “the ones who…” You don’t finish, because you don’t know how to say it politely.

“I don’t know,” he replies, shrugging. “They’re not really my type.”

“Huh.” You consider for a second. “But you’re dating other women, right?”

“No,” he says, looking at you, his guitar now silent. “Why would you think that?”

“Um, the whole 'I don’t do relationships’ thing?” you reply. “Remember?”

“I remember fine,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I’d disrespect you like that.”

You stare at him, because now you’re totally confused. “So what did you mean?”

“I just meant…” He frowns. “Don’t count on me, that’s all. I’ve disappointed people, in the past, and I don’t want to do it again.”

“Okay,” you say, slowly, because you still don’t understand.

“Just don’t expect me to be there when you need me,” he says, and there’s an edge to his words, a defensiveness that speaks of past wounds not yet healed.

“Hey,” you tell him, gently, sitting up and laying your hand on his arm. “You’re here now, right?”

“I am.” He nods.

“Well, that’s enough for me,” you say.

He smiles at you, and that hauntingly guarded look in his eyes fades away into almost nothing.

Almost.

***

Your friends tell you you’re being stupid.

“If he can’t commit…” They shake their heads, and you know what they’re saying.

“He’s committed,” you tell them. “Just in his own way.”

“Bullshit,” says your best friend. “Has he ever told you he loves you?”

“It’s only been six months,” you argue. “Most guys haven’t said it after six months.”

“Oh, honey,” she says, with a sigh, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

He’d never hurt me, you want to say, stubborn. You don’t understand him like I do.

But they won’t believe you, you know.

***

You watch Raw every week now, and you’ve even started reading a few wrestling news sites and blogs. The whole thing’s way more interesting and complicated than you ever would have thought, and you pay extra attention to anything involving Elias.

Tonight you’re lying on your couch with your bare feet in Elias’ lap, and he’s watching some football game while giving you a foot massage. It must be that all that guitar-playing strengthens the fingers or something, because Elias’ massages are fucking sublime, and you’ve had a long day at work, so for a while you simply revel in the feeling, not saying anything.

But you’ve been doing some more reading, and there’s something you want to ask. “So,” you say, hoping it’s not too random, “are you ever going to play Wonderwall on Raw?”

Elias turns to look at you, amused, and says, “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?” you repeat.

“Money.”

“What?” you reply, not understanding. “But you play it at house shows.”

“Don’t have to pay to play it live to an audience, but TV’s different,” he says.

“Oh,” you say, feeling strangely disappointed. “I love that song.” You don’t know what you were thinking the answer would be but you definitely weren’t expecting something as boringly prosaic as finances. But that’s forgotten when Elias digs his thumbs into the arch of your foot and it’s so damn good you can’t stop yourself from moaning loudly in pleasure.

He chuckles, low in his throat, and says,“You make some pretty nice noises when I do this.”

“Yeah?” You bite your bottom lip. “I bet you could find a way to get me to make some even nicer ones.”

“I bet I could,” he replies, and shifts, crawling up the couch until he’s on top of you, kissing you so slow and deep you think you might melt.

***

A few weeks later, you’ve finished eating dinner, and Elias is standing at the sink in your kitchen, singing softly to himself as he rinses off the plates to put in the dishwasher. And you know it’s just an ordinary, every day thing, but you suddenly feel so lucky, so grateful to simply to have him here with you that you have to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

You rest your head sideways against the broad expanse of his back, hearing the melody vibrate through his chest, and it’s only then that you realize he’s singing Wonderwall. You join in, warmth and happiness flooding through you as you sing along with him, unthinkingly lifting your voice to harmonize with his when you reach the chorus.

Elias holds your wrists, pulling your arms tighter around him, swaying slightly in rhythm with the song, and even when it’s done, you stay like that for a time, not moving. But then, at last, you step away, and he turns around, leaning back against the sink.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” he says, curious.

You shake your head. “I can maybe carry a tune,” you tell him. “Not like you.”

“I don’t know,” he muses, “those were some sweet harmonies.” He looks at you. “I was thinking,” he says. “You want to come to Raw next week?”

“Really?” You’ve been desperate to see him wrestle live for a while now, but you haven’t liked to ask.

“Yeah,” he says, firmly. “If you can get the time off work, I can arrange all the travel for you.”

Your boss has been nagging you to use up some of your vacation time, so you know that won’t be problem. “I’d love to,” you say.

“Good,” Elias replies, and kisses you, like it’s already settled.

***

The atmosphere at Raw is electric, so noisy and raucous it’s almost shocking, and you’re immediately caught up in the drama of it all, cheering and booing along with the crowd, joining in with the various chants that spread around the arena like a wave.

You’re seated in the front row, close to the main camera focusing on the ring, and Elias had asked you if you’d rather watch from backstage, but you wanted to experience his match out here, right in the thick of it.

There’s a video package for tonight’s main event playing on the big screen when Elias walks out with his guitar, sliding into the ring and setting himself up. He glances in your direction, and you give him a small wave, but only he only winks back at you briefly, staying in character.

A buzz of subdued chatter echoes through the venue as the show pauses for a commercial break, and Elias sits himself down on his stool, checking his microphone. “You know,” he says, settling his guitar on his knee before picking out an elaborate riff, “there’s a special lady here in the audience tonight. She’s walked with Elias for some time now, and I know for a fact it hasn’t been an easy journey, but she hasn’t wavered, so this one’s for her.”

You hold your breath as he plays the opening chords of Wonderwall, and the crowd breaks into cheers, singing along, holding up their phones. “I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now,” Elias sings, and their voices raise in unison, the crescendo of it so loud you swear you can feel it, but Elias is looking right at you and it’s as if you’re the only two people in the whole world, together in this moment, and you’re not sure you can even breathe.

“Maybe,” he croons, “you’re gonna be the one to save me…”

You hear someone say, “In 5, 4, 3…” and he stops abruptly. The lights go out, the announcer intoning, “Ladies and gentlemen… Elias.” The audience erupts in a hail of jeers and booing, but you feel like you’re floating, not sure you’ll never come down.

***

After his match is done, you make your way backstage, every door opened without hesitation when you show the all-access pass Elias has given you. It takes you a few minutes to find him, but then you see him, standing talking to someone.

He’s still shirtless, his hair loose and wet over his shoulders, and for a second, as you approach him, you feel almost shy, not knowing what to say, but then he sees you, and he smiles. You remember how he used to look at you, always with that hint of fearful reserve, always holding something back, but tonight his expression is nothing but open, his smile wide with affection.

“Hey,” he says, pulling you into a sweaty hug, but you don’t mind in the slightest.

You gaze up at him. “Was that for me, out there?”

“No one else.” He bends to kiss you, and then whispers, close in your ear, “I love you.”

You pull back, staring at him, shocked. “What?” you say, hardly able to believe it.

“You heard me,” he says, grinning.

And maybe you’ve known that for long time, longer than you would ever admit, but for him to actually speak those words is something else again, and it means more to you than anything. So you say what you’ve been wanting to say since the day you met him, what you’ve been holding back all this time.

“I love you, too.”

[gguksgalaxy]

Little Big Secret pt.5 (final)

Masterpost <– Part 4 |

Genre: Fluff/Angst Warnings: Angst, bashing SM (sorrynotsorry), probably wrong representation of photography industry don’t bash me. Insinuations of sex, but no actual smut. Pairing: Reader x Yixing/Lay Wordcount: 2648 A/N: This is my goodbye to this series, the first series I finished on this blog. I hope you guys enjoyed it and enjoy this part. Send me some feedback!

With Yixing you had definitely gotten so much more than you bargained for. So much more, and only in a good way. Especially when you found yourself panting in his arms, heart hammering in your chest as he chuckled against your ear. He was drawing soft shapes on you bare hip under the covers, propped up on one arm to look at you. The look of love and desire in his eyes made you shiver, and you pulled him down for a kiss. Capturing his lips with yours, and he growled softly as you bit his lip. He deepened the kiss, rolling over you. The delicious feeling of his skin on yours rose goosebumps on your arms, and still sent sparks down your spine. Where he was so sweet and gentle, his tongue was devilish, and he could make you moan by just kissing you. And right now that was just what he was doing as he massaged your tongue with his, hands finding the place on your hips where his fingers left bruises earlier.

“I love you.” He whispered into the kiss. “I love you too.” You smiled, breaking the kiss and leaning your forehead against his with your arms wrapped around his neck. He rolled the two of your to your side, facing each other. His legs tangled with yours, and his fingers now trailing slowly up and down your back. “I missed you. I missed this, I’m sorry.” You kissed him. “It’s okay Xing, no harm was done. Although I think I need some recovery now, damn.” He laughed, and blushed. “Sorry, four months was a little much. You have no idea how much restraint I showed in that bathroom.” “Oh I know Yixing, I know. And then you have the nerve to eye fuck me during the photoshoot? How do you think I felt?” “Hmmm, I know you felt really good just now.” He kissed you cheek, your jaw, your neck. And you chuckled softly. “And I’ve got all night to make you feel even better so take five.” You laughed out loud. “You have too much stamina.” “I’m young.” “I remember you said that you were getting old in that interview last month.” Yixing buried his face in your neck. “I felt old, lonely, not getting any.” You scoffed. “Can you stop thinking about sex for a second?” But you meant it jokingly, and he heard it in the little chuckle at the end of your sentence. He rolled to his back after a giggle and looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry, I just missed having you near. And last time I was with you I was so tired and…I’m sorry.” There was a long silence, and after a few minutes tears in his eyes, and one made it’s way down the side of his face. You caught it, and wiped it away, kissing the trail it had left. “Sweetie, just stop saying you’re sorry. I know how hard this is on you, I can see it.” You mumbled the words against his skin. “I love you, and I will always love you, and nothing is going to change that. Even if I have to wait months for you to come back. I know that one day this will be over and you’ll be able to live a normal life with me. And until that day comes I will be here for you, even though I might be far away.” Another tear made it’s way down and you felt it on your nose where it was pressed against his cheekbone. His hand was shaking as you took it in yours. “Yixing, don’t be afraid, please. We’ve come too far to let this end. I won’t let you go.” “I love you so much y/n.” He said, turning over to hug you close to his chest. “So much.” His hugs were always close, and so warm, and you loved them. Just lying in his arms, as he held you close. His chin resting on your head, or his face buried in your neck. Now you felt his heart beating against your chest, and it was almost like yours fell in sync with his. Beating together, like it was meant to be that way. “Sleep Yixing, get some rest.” You ran your hand through his hair, pulling out the little tangles and scratching his scalp lightly. It was a sure way to lull him to sleep. His breathing slowly evened out and you looked at him. His flawless skin, soft, stretching over taunt muscle. His eyelashes fanned out over his cheek, and you brushed a finger over his eyebrow to smooth it down. You soon fell to sleep as well, in a position that was a bit uncomfortable, but it was close to him and warm. So it was okay. It was all okay.

***

“Stuffy?” Yixing mumbled against your neck, waking you up. You hummed in return. “I have to pee,” he whispered. You chuckled and untangled yourself from him as you let him off the bed. He was still naked and scratched his lower back as he grabbed briefs from his open suitcase in the corner and went into the bathroom. What happened to round 2? You though as you looked at the clock. It was now 1 am, it was dark outside and the city was beautifully lit. The view from the large glass window was great, being on the 24th floor was a luxury. You left the bed to find your panties, and grabbed his shirt that he had been wearing. It was white and the material felt expensive and smooth as you pulled it on and buttoned the middle three buttons. He exited the bathroom and came up behind you by the window, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you like the view?” he rested his chin on your shoulder and you placed your hands on his on your stomach. “It’s beautiful. But please don’t tell me I’m more beautiful.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t planning on it. But you are.” You groaned and leant your head back on his shoulder. He took it as an invitation to start leaving soft open mouthed kisses all over your neck. After a little he stopped at your pulse point and bit down, sinking his teeth in slowly but firmly. You hissed and he soothed it over with his tongue and lips. With him so close you now smelled the makeup remover he had used to remove his makeup from the day. You reached up and felt that his hair was soft and combed. His hair was always soft and a little wavy, but the products they used on it made it a bit coarser sometimes. You didn’t like it. Right now his sides were shaved and that did look good on him, but you missed being able to run your hands through it. “What are you thinking about?” he whispered, breath fanning out over the mark he left. “Nothin much really. I’m just enjoying.” He rocked you from side to side looking over the city. “I miss home.” “You know how worried your family was when you fainted? They called me when they found out. It was an hour or so after I had spoken to the boys. And I was glad I was able to tell them you were doing better.” He nodded. “I’m taking vitamins now, and trying to sleep more. I feel a lot less lethargic.” “I’m glad Yixing, I don’t want to see you faint again. I was so worried, and I texted Luhan too saying I’m sorry for dragging him in to it.” Yixing nodded. “He called me, saying he’s sorry and stuff but it’s okay. It happened we can’t turn back time. Nothing really bad happened so we should leave it behind us.” A smile spread out on your lips as he was still rocking you a little. It was warm with him, and familiar, and happy, and comfortable. No matter how many times he had to leave you, he’d always come home to you. “Hey I’m going to wash my face too for a second, okay?” you moved away from his grasp and he kissed you cheek before letting himself fall on the bed. The bathroom was huge so to speak. A bathtub that could easily fit three, and a ceiling shower that was about as big as you own bathroom. It even had one of those bidet things. There were two sinks and you just decided to use yixing’s things because you didn’t bring yours. So you easily got to work in removing your makeup. There wasn’t much, definitely not as much as he’d been wearing after the shoot, but you took your time. He had some neutral face cream that felt nice on your skin, and you used his brush to get the tangles out of your hair. You weren’t wearing your glasses right now and your eyes were growing a little tired. “Yixing, can you get me my glasses?” you asked through the closed door. But no answer really followed. “Yixing?” But again no answer, and you suddenly felt fear everywhere. So you leapt to the door and swung it open, terrified to find him collapsed in the room. But that wasn’t what you found. He was sitting on the bed, wearing a pair of jeans and a dark grey shirt. And in his hands was a small box, red, velvet. No? “Yixing?” you whispered. He looked up, shocked, and dropped the little box on the beige carpeted floor. “Y/n, I…” You stepped over to him, barefoot, wearing nothing more than his blouse and panties. “Sweetie what are you doing?” you were still whispering. He leant down to grab the box and stood up. But there was a motion in him that made your knees weak and your heart clench and you grabbed his wrist in fear. “Yixing please don’t go down on one knee.” You whispered, unable to form anything louder. His cool brown eyes bore into yours and he was deciding right there, trying to see what you had meant. “Okay, then…I won’t.” But he still took your hand, and he pulled you closer, your toes touching. “Yixing?” “Y/n. I…I love you. And I know we talked about this, a few times. And we came to a compromise and I’m breaking it.” He was stuttering slightly and you already had tears in your eyes and a hand over your mouth. “I know that you’re always here for me, my home to go back to. My safe place. My love. My stuffy.” He chuckled. “I want to be there for you more, and I can’t, and it hurts. Because if it was my say I’d take you everywhere you ever wanted to go and have you see the world. I’d buy us a small apartment or house on the edge of the city, where it’s quiet but not far. And we can get a dog, or two, and kids. I definitely want kids if you want them too. But I can’t give you any of that right now because I’m tied to a contract that’s straining on me. On you. But you still love me, you put up with it because you love me. And I love you through it and for it.” He took a deep breath. “This isn’t a request as such, it’s more of a promise for the future.” Another shaky breath and you let a tear escape. “Y/n, will you marry me? Somewhere, in the future, when I’m all yours, and only yours.” He opened the little box and inside was a slim silver ring with a small round green gemstone. Your favourite colour. You wanted to say something but all that came out was a sob. It took you a bit to regain your strength. “I…yes of course Yixing, of course.” He smiled wider than you’d ever seen him smile, and he grabbed you around the waist to lift you up and spin you around. There were happy tears spilling over his cheeks and you felt them against your neck. “I love you too Yixing.” You said, squealing and he spun you around again. He sat you down and kissed you with both cheeks cupped in his hands. “You…I love you.” You laughed and watched him as he removed the ring from the velvet casing and grabbed your hand. The ring fit perfectly as he slid it over your ringfinger. “How did you know my size?” you asked. A laugh bubbled up from his lips. “Remember that ring you lost? Right after I left last time? I stole it to get it measured.” “Ah!” you pushed his shoulder lightly and looked at the ring. “It’s beautiful Yixing, I love it.” You looked up at him, more tears in your eyes. “I love you.” Another kiss and he mumbled against your lips; “I love you too. It’s a malachite, they stand for love, strength and inspiration. I knew you liked green and I saw this and it was perfect. And it’s also not a typical wedding ring so you’ll be able to wear it all the time.” That’s one of the things you loved about Yixing, he was always considerate. With everyone. He was one of the most gentle and loving people you’d even met in your life. And he was yours. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me silly.” He said, kissing you again, and again, and again. Until he decided to drop the case on the couch and grab your waist. He pulled you close, as your lips parted in sync and you let him lead the kiss. It was slow, and the love was overwhelming, threatening to spill from your chest. The familiarity but the everlasting excitement, it was everything you wanted and needed. He grabbed your legs and lifted you up, carrying you to the bed and laying you down slowly, crawling over you. His lips found yours again and he let his hands wander up your legs and under his shirt you were wearing. “I showed you I missed you. Now let me show you I love you.”

I'M SO SAD THAT THIS IS OVER!!!! please let me know what you thought and thank you for reading!!

@oh-beyond @xingtrash @chenbootysoo @minniescutiehands @nunchiwrites @bootyfulohsehun @softyjihoon @thawingsnowwolf @saranghae-rapline @yourseth @exosmutxoxo @littlekatlizzy @xiubaek13 @kaori-yuki-chan @dashi-dorawa @for-the-love-of-lay @suholuv @melyyexo @yeollieollie @wheredidmylifego-ohyeahbtsandexo @crowleys-crossroads-inn @yixingsbeauty @raincoatweather @thetommo217 @notmybolo @dreesjedre7 

[andyl394]

Happy you’re here (2/?)

Summary: You didn’t actually know who you were, rescued from H.Y.D.R.A, you suffered Dissociative Amnesia. The Avangers helped you, now was time for you to help Bucky.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,725

Warnings: Cursing(a lot, like... A LOT), Fluff(?), claustrophobia mention, dead body mention, violence mention. 

A/N: Ok, I tried, I SWEAR. Well, I’m just bored so.... Yeah. BTW, there’s a Bucky P.O.V. Sorry about any mistakes, as I said on part 1, english is not my natural language (Also, let me know if you guys want me to try to make Y/N genderless, since the characters reffer you as “she/Her”) 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

“You did what?” Bruce almost screamed at Steve

“I introduced Y/N to Bucky. You’ve met him before, he wouldn’t hurt her!”

“Of course he wouldn’t. She would kick his ass.” Natasha said with a smirk while crossing her legs. Everyone was there, minus you and Bucky.

“See?” Steve knew she was right; it was hard to someone to beat you up. Impossible, actually. Your reflexes and speed were really good, even Pietro wouldn’t be able to harm you. Since you always knew where he was appearing, not even you understood how.

The abilities you acquired from your years in H.Y.D.R.A stayed, like the scars. To remind you that you’ve done things before, you just didn’t remember what.

“That’s not the point, Steve. The point is that anything can trigger her to remember what she had passed! Nat, do you remember how you found her? Wanda, do you remember what you saw?” Both woman nodded tensely

“She can’t see that… Never.”

“So what do you want us to do? To keep her or the Soldier locked in their rooms? The Captain here didn’t do something wrong. I saw Buck in the corridor with Y/N. Again, that weird person gained one of us. For the first time, he wasn’t looking like a grumpy angst teen.” Bruce sighed while massaging the bridge of his nose; he had a soft spot for you. Maybe because at the start you would always go to him and Steve when you didn’t know how to use things or what to do, when you had cute silly questions, when you discovered something new or etc.

“I know, Tony. However, she already has trigger words. We discovered three in these past years. She had nightmares that kept her awake for months; the memories were trying to come back. All of them had to do with H.Y.D.R.A, but there aren’t only words. Anything that remind her of that can trigger the memories.” He stopped for a moment, seeing that he got everyone’s attention “And I’m not only worried with her. Bucky also may suffer because of this. We all know him, he couldn’t even look to ours faces last year. And if he find out he might help her remember? And If the trigger words aren’t just to make her remember her past, but also turned her into the weapon?”

“Is a big IF, doctor.” Clint said, remembering how Bucky’s mood changed as soon as he saw you “She’s good to people, maybe is one of her powers or just how she is. But just like us, he also needs her.”

“What you’re still doing here, Princess Merida?” Your laugh broke the tense silence, FRIDAY had warn you about the reunion you had to go, after showing all the tower to Buck, that was still on the door. As if he didn’t know if he was supposed to enter the room.

“Actually, Steve called all of us, Y/N” Natasha voice made you turn your head quickly to the woman getting up to catch you as you hugged her

“Peter!” You screamed, hearing Sam and Pietro laugh

“Peter?” Wanda asked while glancing at the men she was sitting next to, Vision, her boyfriend.

“I think Y/N made a pun about “Black Widow” using Mr. Parker as a reference.”

“You thought right, my dear evil Smurf.” Steve pulled Buck to enter the room, but he didn’t know what to do. First, because he was too amazed by how you were opened to everyone, how each people smiled when seeing you. Second, because he didn’t know why he was there since it looked like a friend’s reunion.

“Guys, I called you to warn that Bucky is staying with us.”

“Bubbles, let him sit, first. You’re making him uncomfortable.” People laughed while Steve rolled him eyes, letting go of Buck’s shoulders. He almost let a sigh of relief come out of when he heard you coming to rescue him.

“Thank you.” He whispered, sitting in the chair you indicated, right at your side. Pietro glanced at him with a not so friendly gaze, but he got distracted when you winked at him, smiling sweetly

“Any time, love” He didn’t know why he was smiling all goofy. Steve was happy to see you there, making him truly smile in less than a minute.

Bucky was still paying attention to you when Steve continued to talk, making both of you stare at the Captain.

“Well, you all know Buck- Yes, Y/N?”

“Where was I when he first came?” Steve blushed, remembering what he send you to do, so you didn’t get caught in the small war it had between all of them.

“Remember that mission in Brazil?”

“You mean the one you send me to, that I stayed almost three months chasing a non-existing thing? That one?” Everyone laughed at your bitter answer, you almost punched Steve when you returned.

“Yes, that one.” He sighed “Well, I didn’t call everyone just for informing of Buck, unfortunately. Natasha and I found a base that might been used by H.Y.D.R.A and that is possible being activated again, and we are going to need help with this. Y/N, you know I wouldn’t call you for something involving… it. But, we fear that they might have files of you.”

Bucky glanced surprised at you, he didn’t thought that where you had suffered was H.Y.D.R.A, just like him.

You smiled comfortably at Steve, nodding calm with your head.

“I know, Stevie.”

“You don’t need to go if you don’t want you, nether you or Bucky. We are just informing, since involve both of you…”

“I’ll go.” Bucky said, a weird protective feeling growing inside his chest towards you.

“Well, I never run from a good fight, anyways… When?”

“Tomorrow, we need to make sure they don’t have your files.” After all, you were their most important, dangerous weapon, years had passed, and still, you hadn’t discovered all of your powers.

“Okay… Buttercup, I’ll introduce you to Buckbeak, c’mon.” You got up, when seeing that there wasn’t more anything to discuss. Buck looked into everyone’s small smiles when he also got up and you grabbed his wrist, knowing that they were going to talk something more. You always knew. “Sam, you still own me a rematch.”

“You lost?!” Pietro gasped, making you laugh and stop at the door, seeing Sam look at his own shoes embarrassed

“He ran.” You left the room full of people laughing, just like you wanted.

“You were captured Hydra?” He asked while you jogged to catch the elevator, you waited him entry the machine to answer.

“Well, as far as I know. Steve said that Nat rescued me from one of their oldest base. But as I said, I don’t remember.”

“Did they… Mess with your brain?” You stopped for a second, thinking about that question. Did they?

Your head started to ache when flashes of weird and old machines appeared, you saw metal, bright lights, loud screams and pain.

Mostly, pain.

Bucky studied you for a moment, feeling bad when seeing your eyes shut quickly as if you were in pain, frowning your brows and heavily breathing.

“I-… I don’t… Maybe… I can’t remember, sorry.” You whispered, slowly opening your eyes, remembering that you had nightmares about that kind of stuff before.

“I’m the one supposed to apologize, Doll.” A smile covered your lips when hearing his worried voice

“I’m O.K, Buttercup. It happens sometimes. Bruce says that are just some memories trying to force their ways to my mind. Anything can trigger them, so… Yeah”

“Like… Trigger words?” You snapped your head at him, surprised with the precision of his words.

“Exactly. Until now, we found three. Two of them are in Portuguese, the other is in Russian. Nat found it when she was angry at Tony, so she kind of snapped and said “walls” in Russian.” You started to walk towards the living room, next to the kitchen. “FRIDAY, can you please put Harry Potter for us?”

“The AudioBooks or the movies, Mrs. Y/N?”

“The movies, I’ll show him the books later.” Buck settled where you indicated to him, when you were about to sit on his side, he took the spot, making you sit on his flesh arm side.

“Sorry. Huh… What happened?” He said, trying to keep you talking, since he liked your voice. It wasn’t calm, but it also wasn’t energetic.

“Well, apparently, I fainted. But the nightmares were the worst, at the time I just had gazes at what was that. When I slept, I dreamed about a tiny room. It was so small that I couldn’t even sit. I had to be on my feet for what looked to be days… I felt so god damn claustrophobic!” You laughed, trying to make fun of what you had passed. But the memories of that dream reminded you of the worst part, the one you didn’t tell him.

You weren’t alone there.

There was a dead, stinking, cold body pressed against yours. It made you want to throw up, but at that time, you hadn’t eat anything, so there was nothing to come out of you.

“Harry Potter? Uh, the cat is turning into a woman.” He tried to take you out of those sick thoughts, and he did it.

“Minerva McGonagall, she is badass as fuck! You’ll like her!” Bucky smiled at you when you punched – lightly – his shoulder before bringing your feet to the couch, starting to pay attention to the movie.

“So… Everyone seems to like you.” Bucky said, glancing at you when seeing you chuckle a little

“Not everyone. Vision don’t like me.” He arched a brow in confusion “I mean, is not like he hates me. Is more of a… Caution feeling? I don’t know, actually. But I think he is afraid that I snap or something like that, because of my past.”  

He controlled his curiosity, since you told him about the trigger words, he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable

Bucky P.O.V

In the third movie I understood the nickname, but that didn’t stop you to keep me there watching all the movies. You said that no one liked to watch the movies with you, because you would repeat the lines with the movie.

But I thought it was lovely, especially when you turn your gaze at me just to smile and say random things about the movie or the books. It was night before we could even tell, and you just yawned, getting up after we finish all the movies.

They were great.

“Now I’ll leave you alone, you need to get some rest for tomorrow’s mission.” You said, smiling and offering me your right hand, as if you knew exactly that I didn’t like my metal arm “Are you sure you want to go tomorrow? I mean, you just got here.”

“I want to go.” You nodded with your head and, as I did the whole day, I followed you. Walking on your heels to the room’s floor, you stood on the doorway of my room, waiting for me to enter it

“If you want or need anything, my room is the last one of the corridor, ok?” You gazed at me, stocking a piece of your hair behind your ear “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight, Doll.” You smiled gently at me and turned on your heels before jogging to the final of the corridor, entering a room that – as you said – was yours.

“You’re already charmed, tin can?” Sam laughed, making my smile fall. I felt him coming close, but I hoped that he just passed to his room and left me alone with my small good mood “Don’t worry, it’s normal. We would have a problem if you didn’t liked her.”

I just groaned in answer, making him chuckle and pass through my door to go to his room.

I just sitted on the bed, thinking how grateful I was that those people accepted me there after all I’ve done. But what stayed in my head, was Y/N laughter. The soft, sweet chuckle of yours.

“No, Y/N.” Steve said in his Captain tone, making you frown your brows in pure frustration

“So, you make me wake up early to go to this mission, just so I could stay in the fucking Jet?”

“And you are not flying it. Just to be clear.” I heard Clint say from the pilot part, you huffed and crossed your arms in front of your breasts. God Damn that was cute, especially when you were looking down on a man twice your height.

“Captain, you betta give me a good excuse for me not to punch you in your fucking amazing nose right fucking now.” Natasha laughed while entering the Jet, I was already on my way to one sit far from the others, thinking that they might not be used to me on a mission and will want their space.

“It might trigger your memories?” He tried, but the only thing you did was huff in anger

“Everything can trigger my fucking memories, Rogers! The stupid walls can trigger them, the stupid sky can trigger them. Hell, your butt can even trigger them, but you don’t see me stopping squeezing it, do you?!” Everyone on the jet laughed, Steve and me included. “The point, Steve, is that I can’t just run of everything and hide under my bed, scared to even look in the mirror. I did things, I’ve been through things, yes. But that is the old me, someone I don’t even remember and that by the scars, I didn’t want to be.” I looked at my hands, feeling those words enter my skin like blazing metal.

“Bruce will stay on the jet, why can’t you?”

“Because dad number two is a doctor and he can’t fight without turning green, big and grumpy, neither can he hold a gun.”

“Dad number two?” Steve’s brows frowned as you sighed

“I made a fucking life-changing speech, you just catch that?!”

“Who is ‘dad number one’?”

“Who do you think, papa?” I chuckled at your ironic, sassy, kind of sexy, side

“Steve, Y/N won’t stop complaining until you let her go. And she’ll be entering that place while arguing with you about entering there.” Sam went to your rescue, as if he had seen that before and knew where it was going to end “And you also know she’s right. She’s a grown ass woman, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Us finishing the mission before than expected?” He chuckled as you high-fived him

“And you are completely out of your mind if you think that I’ll let Wanda and Pietro enter there without me.” You whispered, but I was able to hear it, since both of you were closer to me than to the others.

“Fine! But when you get nightmares, don’t come to me!” He huffed, making you smile widely at him and jump into a bear hug.

“Thanks, dad!” Steve tried to contain the grin that was forming in his face, but ended giggling anyways.

“Don’t call me that, I’m too hot to be a dad.”

“If isn’t the captain feeling himself today, look at that!” Sam said loudly from his sit, making everyone laugh.

“I hope you don’t mind, not that I actually care, but I’ll use you as a pillow.” You said, sitting on my flesh side, aware of my problem.

“So is just the super soldier appear and you replace me, love?” The silvered hair boy said, suddenly sitting on her other side

“Oh, please, Pietro. You know you’re irreplaceable! But his biceps are bigger, like, fuck! Look at this, is bigger than my head!” You played, lifting my arm as I felt a smirk play in my lips

“Are you telling me you don’t think I’m hot, anymore?” He placed his hand on his chest, as if he was hurt “You cold woman!”

“Stop fighting over Y/N, Speedy. And you Barnes, you just got here and was able to finally make her flirt, congratulations.” Tony said, and as I looked into you face, I saw you sweetly blush, huffing and rolling your eyes.

“Oh, please, fuckboy. Nine out of eleven words that I speak I’m flirting”

“I thought it was cursing.” Sam said, earning giggles from you

“What do you think are the others three?”

[downtomyunderoos]

hands-on experience

// akihiko sanada (downtomyunderoos) & karin igarashi (miskick)

1. Akihiko --

As if he added sixty years to his age overnight, Akihiko groans while struggling sitting on the sofa. Once his rear sets itself down, he breathes a sigh of relief before reclining.

“Oh man, is my back killing me…”

2. Karin --

    ❝Uh, S-Senpai?❞ Karin is the first to notice Akihiko’s return, especially as he groans in what sounds like pain. ❝Are you… okay? You don’t sound so good. Um– d-do you need something? Er, I mean, can I do anything for you?❞

3. Akihiko --

Akihiko perks at her voice and replies after bringing himself to relax.

“Ah, Igarashi. This… looks bad, doesn’t it…” Dejection materializes within a mutter. A hand lifts in protest. “Ah-h– don’t worry, this isn’t as bad as it looks. It’s most likely a pulled muscle.”

How reminiscent of early April, both his condition and loathing it. However, temporary back pain beats broken ribs. Just gotta suck it up.

His position straightens, and Akihiko speaks as if setting an example of What Not to Do: “I’m merely paying the price for overdoing yesterday’s training.”

Akihiko understood before settling in the lounge that concerns would raise, but he’d be damned staying cooped up in his bedroom all day. Already he weighed between being fussy and going along with the others. Her questions get swallowed with pride, and he considers what he’d need around this particular time if he hadn’t dealt with a handicap.

“Can you.. heat a cup of ramen from the kitchen for me? Please…”

4. Karin --

    A cautious underclassman stepped closer, as if to observe what the problem could be for herself, but she stops just before his personal space. Confusion crossed with concern can be read in her expression, arms kept folded tentatively behind her back.

    ❝I mean, you look like you’re in a lot of pain, so it doesn’t look good.❞ He seemed intent on pushing himself to his limits, more than anyone she’d ever met prior. Coming to befriend him, it absolutely worried her… even if she did the very same thing sometimes. His reasoning prompts a small pout to pull her lips. Isn’t he always being warned about not overdoing things? –Isn’t he the one always telling everyone else not to overdo it, at that? She keeps those thoughts to herself.

    Her pout is quickly replaced with an inviting, but also amused, smile. The reasons behind why are unknown, but she found his plead adorable, to an extent.

    ❝Sure thing, Sanada-senpai.❞ With that confirmation, she skitters off into the kitchen to do as she’s asked. As a matter of fact, she returns with two ramen cups, handing the first one to Akihiko before politely seating herself beside him. ❝Hey, Senpai? Since you say it’s a pulled muscle, do you think a massage might help? It’d help you relax a little more, at least.❞

5. Akihiko --

“Thanks,” he says before she retreats and when she hands him the cup. Akihiko offers a sincere smile in particular for not chiding him for displaying a weaker side. Seeing that Igarashi brings two tells him he’ll have company, and he’s grateful. Better her than anyone else while in this sorry state.

“It might…” He hesitates. ‘Relax,’ she says, but Akihiko finds himself uneasy at the proposal. It’s not often someone, be it a close friend or an underclassman, would act upon or even mention the gesture (one her senpai actually finds delight in) – but it does sound tempting. Attesting, his gloves faintly singe from the cup, signaling there’s time to multi-task between cooling off and a massage.

“Could give it a shot,” Akihiko decides before setting aside his meal. “You offering?”

6. Karin --

     It doesn’t take a genius or a master of psychology to see that he’s hesitant to agree to the idea. She isn’t entirely surprised; she expected as much. Anyone would normally be nervous when presented with an idea like that, even if it meant feeling better in the end. It could turn awkward veryquickly, if not approached correctly. Though, to her ( pleasant) surprise, he seems to want to try it. She grins, setting down her own steaming cup.

    ❝Mmhmm! I do this with the lower belts during breaks sometimes to keep them from pulling or straining muscles during practice, so this isn’t a big deal. So, yeah, just tell me where you feel the most tension and where it hurts and I’ll try my best.❞ Just don’t talk about it, and it won’t be awkward,she tells herself. She’s done this before ( albeit with people closer to her age, and ones that she didn’t have a crush on ), so this shouldn’t be any different. She’s doing this to help him feel better, that’s all it is. Karin tries not to let the nervousness show in her features as she prepares her hands, cracking knuckles and stretching her fingers to keep them nimble.

    ❝Um, do you wanna lay down or just turn to me? You said it hurts in your back, right? Is it in the lower or upper lumbar region?❞

7. Akihiko --

Oh, so she had experience? That’s reassuring.

Akihiko first shifts before Igarashi asks for specifics. He stops with an Oh. Those are good questions, and the sore in his back says…

“I guess I should lay down, huh. It’s,” he turns patting his lower spine and rubbing his hip, then vice versa, “here that hurts in particular.” Akihiko pauses with a lower gaze, feeling as though he’s in a confessional. “I-if you saw… I could barely sit as it is…”

8. Karin --

     She tries her hardest to keep her mind off of certain thoughts. They were distracting, unnecessary, and incredibly inappropriate for the current predicament. Swallowing her hesitation and shyness, and pays close attention to his answer. So, his lower lumbar, around his hips…

     ❝You might have stretched or overused a muscle that isn’t used to it,❞ she speaks with clarity; surprising, considering her usual demeanor. ❝You mostly work on upper-body strength, right? It’s not uncommon to hurt one of your muscles down here, then.❞ Drawing a sharp breath, she waits for him to lie down in front of her before going to work. Shewouldtake her gloves off for this, but that posed too much of a risk, even if he couldn’t see her hands. For now, she leaves them on, beginning to maneuver her fingers about the affected area.

     ❝Yeah, this is really tight… Senpai, how much do you stretch before practice? Do you usually stretch your legs or your back? If you don’t, then you probably pushed it a little too far, and if you do, then maybe you didn’t stretch these properly.❞ She sounds professional, but on the inside, she’s screeching. She’s thankful he can’t see her face right now, otherwise he may call her out on the burning red hue in her complexion.

9. Akihiko --

Oooh.

That hit the spot. He ignores the potential awkwardness of this scenario in exchange for appreciating fingertips and palms pressing into clothing and skin. Akihiko couldn’t and doesn’t notice Igarashi’s internal flailing from behind. In fact how she controls her inflection has him decide she’s closest to a professional.

“Yeah, I.. suppose I didn’t,” he answers somewhat lazily, breathlessly to her latest comment. He lays with the side of his head cradled into folded arms. His eyebrows knot when hard penetration occurs at a particular spot, and after a while he’d sharply inhale into his sleeve.

He’s dough beneath her hands.

Considering how he barely receives this kind of care, Akihiko closes his eyes and basks in the moment. Who knows when he’ll get another massage.

“You’re.. good with your hands.”

10. Karin --

    Her lips quiver as she watches him, listening to the soft groans that escape him with every push, poke and prod her fingers made. Externally, she kept it professional, keeping her hands only where they needed to be and only putting extra pressure where necessary. Internally, she’s panicking while her heart races a mile a minute and her brain is merely composed of the screams she wishes she could voice. The unbelievable is happening right before her eyes ( or rather, her hands ). She blinks owlishly, as if caught off-guard by his comment.

   ❝Oh, um, th-thank you,❞ is all she can stammer out. While her brain can barely process any coherent thing at the moment, she’s beginning to realize that her gloves are getting in the way. He can’t see her, she tells herself, so he won’t be able to see her wrists if she were to take them off. It’s to help him feel better, isn’t it? Karin pauses the massage briefly to shakily slip off the black fabric, placing them onto the coffee table. Her apology for stopping comes as a press to his back with some extra pressure. As if she hadn’t enough tension from this very activity, she now has a very real possibility of being seen with something that shouldn’t be there: the various scars circling around both wrists, and even a couple within each palm. The idea of getting caught is terrifying, even if he can’t directly look behind him.

    The lack of fabric is helping with precision and pressure to certain spots, and it gives her an idea, albeit an almost unfathomable one. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out for at least an entire minute all because of her nervous tension. ❝Um, Senpai?❞ She finally speaks, her voice surprisingly steady. ❝Would it… be too much to ask if I could, uh… try going underyour clothes? J-just around here, of course, where I feel the most tension. I’m thinking it might help with working out knots and stuff.❞

11. Akihiko --

Akihiko pauses his relishing, mulling over Igarashi’s explanation as she speaks. Well, she’s been doing a good job so far, so there isn’t really a reason for trust to dwindle. The question for him really is: is he willing to allow someone to get that personal?

Clothing did mimic as a barrier to receiving the full impact of a massage…

He doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t shift at all – as if this is business as usual. That and, maybe now isn’t a good time to gaze into another face while his dons a sheepish hue.

“Y-yeah… just that area, okay?”

12. Karin --

   ❝O-of course! I won’t go anywhere else, I promise.❞ She wouldn’t dare take advantage of her upperclassman’s trust; that would be immoral, and not to mention, incredibly disrespectful. She can’t possibly do that!

    His head is turned, and she couldn’t be more thankful that he won’t actually be watching. She slides her hands beneath the layers of fabric ( holding her breath all the while ), allowing her fingers to repeat the same process as they had when above his clothes. It’s much easier to feel the tension and knots, which makes it much easier to knead them away. That serves as a distraction from the actual feel of his skin, the heat radiating from him… She has to force herself to focus, keeping her hands confined in the afflicted area. She slowly feels the bumps being worked out, his muscles returning to the texture that they ought to be.

    For a short while, she’s able to concentrate solely on aiding him feel better. This wasn’t meant to last forever, and the closer she becomes to “finishing up”, the less stress is on her mind. They won’t have to revisit this awkward moment ever again… although she would belying if she said she didn’t enjoy this – somewhere, deep down, where the sentiment will stay.

     ❝Um, okay, Senpai,❞ she draws her hands back, placing them in her lap. ❝T-try moving around now, see if it feels any better.❞

13. Akihiko --

He moves…! He scores…!!!

That is to say, Karin’s magic fingers did their tricks! Albeit his condition hasn’t fully recovered… but that’s to be expected. Akihiko is seen cautiously raising his torso off the sofa. His skin still feels her phantom touch as his legs slide over and land onto the carpet.

“It does…” he says under his breath, as if he’s still processing the miracle. His fingers lightly brush over his less-tightened hip. “It really doesn’t hurt as much.”

He sits how he did earlier. The uncomfortable and embarrassed expressions he’s given her before are out of sight. Instead Akihiko gives Igarashi a grateful look, with cheeks softening his eyes. A burden’s been lifted, and it involved allowing his kouhai to enter his personal bubble and press the kinks and moans out of him.

“…Thank you, Igarashi.”

14. Karin --

    An elated grin crosses her features the moment he moves. Even without his confirmation, she can see the work she’s done is, in fact, helping him. She has a moment of true gratitude, even if she was the one who committed the helping actions rather than him. Still, she feels as happy as if she were the one who had received the massage. Her hands remain steady in her lap, having now completely forgotten about the gloves she’d set aside on the table.

    It’s when he faces her that her heart rises to her throat, impeding her speech and pounding hard as possible. Her eyes flutter open and shut repeatedly, surprise brimming in them, as her cheeks turn a rosy pink. ( Her heart’s captured, and she knows it. )

    ❝Uh,❞ she has to clear her throat before even stammering, ❝I-it’s no problem, Senpai, I’m just glad that I could, uh, h-help…❞ She fidgets, raising a ( bare ) hand to fiddle with her hair while looking off to the side. ❝Oh, and, if you ever have a pulled or hurt muscle like that again, you can just come to me, and I’ll help in any way I can, okay? I, um, don’t mind doing this for you.❞

15. Akihiko --

Akihiko nods in satisfaction, and before Karin says her offer, he turns towards the cup ramen on standby and retrieves it as he listens. He listens and considers her words, becoming aware that Igarashi has become somebody he can depend on in a specific time of need. There is now a stronger bond between them after what happened. It could be that the heat of the noodles tinged his complexion pink or that he’s a little strangely sentimental, perhaps. It’s hard to tell.

“Gotcha,” he replies, bringing chopsticks to his lips, eyeing the gloves on the table, until he pauses due to a funny realization. A small detail. Akihiko quips, “That is, if I’ll be able to haul myself over to you.”

16. Karin --

    Having almost completely forgotten about the ramen cups, she nearly jumped in surprise to see him reach for one left on the table. She had made one for herself, too, but reaching for it now might just make it appear as though she’s copying him. She remains seated, watching him smile and eat. It truly brings warmth to her heart, having done something helpful for him.

     ❝H-hehe, yeah. If need be, I’ll come to you, okay?❞ Her attention remains divided, her smile sheepish and her hands fidgeting with one another in her lap. She finally scans the contents on the table, and the realization freezes over whatever warmth she held in her chest. She’d forgotten about that! Had he already seen her scars?! If he had, wouldn’t he say something about it? Now suddenly self-conscious, Karin reaches for both the ramen cup and the gloves placed on the table. She isn’t sure if she should put them on or simply leave them aside, not knowing if he’s noticed or not…

    ❝Um, I’m glad you’re feeling better, though. At least enough to move around a little more. I know how much it sucks to be slowed down like that.❞

17. Akihiko --

The back of her hands make it into the corner of his vision yet they don’t register until a few seconds of them remaining afloat has Akihiko curiously peer over. From this angle he doesn’t particularly notice anything that is otherwise nagging Igarashi despite what she says. Evidently the topic gets interrupted—

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to eat?”

18. Karin --

    ❝N-no, I am! I am, I was just– w-wondering if it was cooled down enough!❞ Her reply comes a little more rushed than she would’ve liked. At the very least, it appears that he hasn’t noticed anything off kilter with her ( thank god ). She takes this opportunity to carefully rest the ramen cup in her lap while hastily sheathing her hands again. ❝S-sorry, I was worrying over nothing. I, uh, actually kinda forgot about these, for a little bit.❞

19. Akihiko --

The rate in which nervous words topple out of her mouth earns Karin a quirked eyebrow. Ookaaay…

Not only that, but the ramen cup cradled in his own hand never ceased to waft steam and an aroma. With a delectable as stubborn as that a few inches away, Akihiko finds it impossible to ignore much less forget. Maybe Igarashi wasn’t as hungry to begin with. Maybe.

Seeing that she apparently removed gloves and proceeds to conceal again, Akihiko feels compelled to guess: “You were really intent on giving a good massage, huh?”

20. Karin --

    ❝Y-yeah, that’s it,❞ she manages a sheepish giggle. ❝I thought they’d get in the way when I had to use my palms, so, I took them off for a bit… Obviously, I normally don’t.❞Thankfully for a reason he didn’t at all see.

    The atmosphere has grown somewhat awkward, causing Karin to now finally nitpick at her ramen cup. She did make it with the intent of eating with him, even if her appetite has died down at this point. He may think it odd if she doesn’t eat at all ( if he doesn’t consider her oddalready ), so she decides it’s best to simply dig in whether or not her stomach desires it. Nerves are abetting her lack of appetite at this point.

    ❝Um, so, what were you doing that caused the pulled muscle in the first place? Did you overdo it during training?❞ Did they already establish this, she wonders? Her mind is racing with urges to calm down; she’s forgotten quite a few things.

21. Akihiko --

As someone who wears gloves himself, Akihiko doesn’t ask why.

“Yea’, I ‘aid I wash trainin’ errwier,” he plainly says (aside from a mouth full of wet noodles) as a matter of fact — since it is. Maybe Igarashi wants specifics? Or maybe she’s trying to make conversation. He can kind of sense that.

“–I was doing deadlifts… I did warmups before, but I guess I went too far and woke up like this.”

22. Karin --

    ❝I see… I guess you can never be too careful, huh?❞ Despite her heart pounding in her ears, she can find the will to giggle in response to his full mouth. He insisted on talking with a mouth stuffed with noodles, and somehow, it’s amusing to see him try to communicate.

    ❝I wouldn’t push yourself too hard after that. I mean, you could tear something, which wouldn’t be good, so maybe either rest for a day or scale it back a bit? You don’t want to be on the sidelines for days or weeks on end again, right?❞ That was okay to mention, right? It was all in the past, even if she wasn’t there for it. Rumors and news did fly fast in this dorm. ❝Um, so, just take it easy for a bit, if you can. I don’t think anyone would be upset if you did.❞

23. Akihiko --

Akihiko’s downcast eyes gaze into the half-empty cup as he frowns. “I have no choice at this point…”

The mention plus the reminder are taken with stride, but it’s a lie saying he has no regrets coming down — although there is still a chance of him missing the rest of his kouhai…

It’s not as though he expects anyone becoming upset or disappointed. Okay, maybe disappointed. Akihiko doesn’t particularly favor leaving the burden on his kouhai, regardless of the reason. ‘Because senpai can’t even sit after last night’ merits scoldings and teasings he’d prefer being absent for.

Igarashi spurs him to calculate panic-based excuses until he swallows nothing but pride. It’s come down to this.

“…Hey, uh, can you do me another favor? Can you.. not tell the others about this? I won’t go to Tartarus tonight. I should be fine tomorrow.”

24. Karin --

    ❝Senpai…❞ Those anxious nerves have melted away and were, at least temporarily, replaced with concern. He must have a lot of pressure on him, being one of the only third years. She can see the pain of denying his pride in his face, recognizing the emotion.

    ❝Yeah, of course I won’t. I understand, maybe a little more than you’d think.❞ Although not often talked about, she has similar responsibilities while in her dojo – a place where rank matters over age, and a place where she’s respected above most. In any case, she won’t talk about it. Her concern lies mostly with Akihiko, and the more she thinks about it, an idea formulates: something simple, although he may not accept it.

    ❝Hey, um, Senpai? How about I stay in with you?❞ It’s not something she would normally suggest, given her enthusiasm when it comes to Tartarus, but right now, she would much rather lend her support to her fellow comrade ( totally not because she has a crush on him or anything). ❝I mean, I can’t push myself all the time, either, and a break now and again wouldn’t be bad… I-if you wouldn’t mind the company, I mean. If you’d rather be alone, that’s fine, too.❞

25. Akihiko --

‘Maybe a little more than you’d think,’ huh…

Once Igarashi says that, any doubt he might’ve had ceases to exist. Her expression and inflection carry her words’ sincerity. As if they are on equal terms despite their ages.

On the other hand, her suggestion catches him off guard. Akihiko imagined wasting the extra hour loafing (sleeping would be ideal, but he never would while the others risk their lives). He knows he’s boring, especially with girls. Mitsuru is different… but that isn’t to say he provides deliberate entertainment.

Needless to say, he’s wary of the idea.

( Not to mention he’s meeting his socialization quota for today. )

“Uhh… well,” Akihiko starts after eating some more. “I don’t really need it. Company, I mean. Do what you want, but you don’t need to worry about me, Igarashi.”

26. Karin --

    Right. This offer is akin to coddling him, which he, especially, does not need. She should have thought more about that before opening her mouth ( or so she internally scolds herself ). She has to remember to respect his wishes.

   ❝R-right, my bad,❞ she merely laughs it off. ❝You, uh, probably want to be alone for awhile, which makes sense.❞ They did just spend the better part of an hour or more together, engaging in some rather questionable activity, so the idea of wanting solitude was really not that far-fetched. She may have overstepped a boundary in her means of wanting to spend more time with him. Her hands continue to tap and fiddle with the nearly full cup she holds, eyes drawn away from her elder.

    ❝I guess it’s just force of habit on my part. I, um, tend to worry about my classmates and stuff, too. –Er, the ones at my dojo, I mean. S-sorry, I’ll, uh, leave you be now, if you want, heheh…❞

27. Akihiko --

With perplexity smothering his features, Akihiko spurts a “What, already?”

He really… couldn’t read her just then. To him, what they talked about disconnects with the present.

Instead of granting Igarashi a conclusion given to him to decide, Akihiko goes along with the living vagueness in front of him. As such, he stumbles, handling this moment as someone who couldn’t hold a slippery bar of soap.

“Well… alright.”