#drank a strong black coffee on an empty stomach first thing in the morning and i felt like death the entire day

[struck-by-the-rain]

for someone who's normally pretty physically healthy I have so many debuffs rn and good lord I'm not havin a great time!!!!!!!!

[gftimelord]

*The doctor couldn’t quite recall the exact moment when the world began to spiral, when the heady sweetness of the banana daiquiri wrapped itself around his senses and pulled him under. He should’ve known better— just a drink and a half shouldn’t have had this effect on him. His mind, always calculating and sharp, sent faint alarms, chiding him for his recklessness, for drinking on an empty stomach. But in the haze of alcohol and euphoria, those warnings felt distant, irrelevant. Too late. His internal compass was spinning wildly, no longer pointing him towards the objective, but Ford didn’t care. He let the chaos take him.*

*He buried his face into Preston’s shoulder, finding an anchor in the warmth of the other man's body. The club, with its pounding bass and strobing lights, faded to a distant staticky hum— just background noise in a world that had suddenly become quieter, softer. The neon colors, once overwhelming, bled into one another, swirling into an indistinguishable blur. And yet, amidst that haze, there something tangible. Ford breathed in deeply, letting the familiar aroma of coffee and pine fill his senses, grounding him in the chaos. It wasn’t the artificiality of the club that held him now, but something far more comforting. The smell of home.*

*Coffee, strong and bitter, the kind he drank black, always preferring it sharp on his tongue. The forest, tall evergreens, stretching endlessly around him in a familiar embrace. He could almost feel the cool morning dew clinging to his skin, the creak of wooden panels beneath his boots as he stood in the quiet of his cabin, the world outside still and serene. The image wrapped around him like a well-worn blanket, and Ford let himself sink into it. How was it that Preston— a man who’d only ever been a distant reflection of himself that he met just a few hours ago— was able to evoke such a feeling of peace, of certainty, of home?*

*It was astonishing. Dare he say impossible. But in his drunken haze, Stanford didn’t care to question it. He leaned in further, his body naturally curving into Preston’s warmth, drawn to the safety it promised. His fingers, clumsy and uncoordinated from the alcohol, grasped at the stiff fabric of the other’s jacket, holding onto it as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. Every instinct he had screamed at him to stay here, in this fragile moment, because for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he wasn’t alone. The incessant noise in his head, the constant buzzing of responsibility, of guilt, of fear, had finally gone quiet. Replaced instead by a gentle hum of contentment, like the soft crackle of a fire in the hearth.*

*He felt himself sinking deeper into the sensation, the world around them reduced to a muted blur of flashing lights and distant sounds. Nothing but white noise now. The club, the people, even the music— it all felt so far away. And Preston, the man beside him, felt closer than ever. The doctor couldn’t remember the last time he’d let someone in like this, the last time he’d allowed himself to feel safe in another’s presence. But here he was, nestled against his companion, drunk and unguarded, letting the moment stretch out like a dream he didn’t want to wake from.*

*The doctor mumbled something incoherent, his voice lost in the hum of the club. His body swayed slightly, barely able to maintain balance, but it didn’t matter. He was too far gone now, too lost in the warmth of another to care about how foolish he probably looked. He giggled— an uncharacteristic sound for him, light and childlike— as he nuzzled into Preston’s shoulder, letting the steady rise and fall of the other man’s breathing lull him into a deeper sense of calm.*

*His vision blurred further, the edges of the world spinning like the inside of a kaleidoscope, but even in his drunken state, he knew one thing for certain. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt safe. In the chaos of the night, in the arms of someone who, for reasons Ford couldn’t quite articulate, made him feel at home. It was a feeling as natural as the stars blinking in the sky above, as essential as the air in his lungs.*

*And for tonight, that was enough.*

"Another Stanford... so similar yet so different from the rest I've met" Preston looked at the sonic screwdriver with quite the interest

@gleeful-northwest-fam

"Woahoah! Okay! Well this isn't a toy for you, it's for me— big difference."

*Ford would quickly stuff the device in his coat pocket, backing up and away from the other person feeling skeptic. He was used to being the one who would instigate the chaos, somehow this also made him realize that he'd unconsciously switched places with his brother at this age.*

"Now, what brings you here? Any reason you'd seek me out of all people?"

[juminsmysticmc]

Pregnancy Series - Part 3

Telling them 

Hey! So a lot of you have been waiting and I am honestly happy that you guys seem to like my pregnancy series! Please feel free to tell me your opinion with a comment or through a reblog ( I read every single # ) or just send me a message in my inbox! Hope you enjoy! 

Pregnancy Series: Part 1 // Part 2 

Jumin

You nervously rubbed your hands together as the weekend finally came.

Ever since Jumin married you, he decided to have his birthday parties only with you instead of throwing big parties with people he didn’t even like just because of his status.

But this time you prepared something special for him.

You decided to invite your father-in-law as well as the RFA, even Zen, at your place on the 4th of October to stay until Jumin’s birthday at midnight the 5th october.

For Zen, you even prepared your party room since your beloved cat wasn’t in every room of the big penthouse your husband owned.

And so you prepared everything without your husband’s knowing. To say it clearly, you made someone else prepare it because you were scared of hurting the baby, being overprotective since it took you so long to get pregnant.

Maybe you were too scared, but you knew that Jumin wouldn’t have wanted you to overwork yourself.

The room was decorated in gold and black colors and you also baked a big cake on your own, deciding to hide a long note into the cake, saying that you were pregnant. At the end of the note, a copy of your first picture of the baby was attached, showing Jumin that whatever was happening was real.

You knew that he would be more than happy to see this, to know about the baby you were carrying.

,,Finally ready,’’ you said and sighed, looking at your clock, knowing that at 8 PM everyone would come home to stay into the room before Jumin would come home with Jaehee from the office.

The first guest to arrive was your father in law. To your surprise, he didn’t take his girlfriend along, but since Jumin always had to prepare a second party for his status, your in-law promised you to bring her along the next day. Well, you knew that this wasn’t going to last for a long time, but to make the elder happy, you nodded and smiled, telling him that you were more than happy to be able to get to know her.

Lastly, Seven, Zen, and Yoosung arrived. Zen and Seven were arguing whether or not the red haired boy should kidnap his Elly.

,,I need to go home with you. You can’t take that fur ball with you!’’ he hissed.

You left the men alone for a second before you waited for the final guest - your husband, of course followed by Jaehee who just sent you a message about her arrival.

Jumin was puzzled at first when you invited Jaehee inside and led the way to another part of the penthouse, but since it was you who asked, it was okay, you were his wife after all.

The surprise party, however, made him emotional and you knew that Jumin was touched just by his mimicry and how he stood there, you knew your husband.

,,I have a present for you, but you will only be allowed to have it at midnight!’’ you teased him after he gave you a long, lovely kiss.

Staying awake almost four hours more was hard for you. Since you knew that you were pregnant, you were even sleepier, but for Jumin you could manage to stay awake. You had to.

,,IT’S MIDNIGHT! BRING THE CAKE!’’ Seven screamed in excitement, making you a bit nervous.

Yoosung carried the cake into the room after you kindly asked him to, as you all sang ,,Happy Birthday’’ to him.

,,Thank you, my love,’’ he whispered and kissed you again, ready to blow his candles.

,,Before you cut the cake, Jumin,’’ you said as he stood there with a knife already ,,here’s something you have to pull out. Read it out loud,’’ you said.

You pressed your lips together as you waited for him to pull out the long white note until finally the first words appeared. ,,I…..’’ he said, he smirked, thinking that the note was ,,I love you’’

,,A….M…..P...R...E...G…-’’ he looked at you in shock before he pulled the note even quicker out of the cake, seeing the last picture of an ultrasound.

For the first time, all members of the RFA saw Jumin Han cry real tears by the man they always called ,,cold hearted’’ as he hugged his wife and kissed her with a lot of love, thanking her over and over again.

,,This is the best present ever,’’ he hiccuped and kneeled down to kiss your flat belly.

Zen

,,You will surely be a good mother!’’ the chocolate lady praised you as she gave you the white chocolate with the baby sonogram of your baby.

You quickly went back in and prepared a few more things. The chocolate was ready, you thought you would now take a little package and put balloons around the chocolate so that it would float up as soon as Zen would open the box.

Since the chocolate was in a cute packaging too, you put a note on it saying to open it immediately to see the surprise.

You guessed that this would be the perfect Valentine’s Day gift.

Then you also decided to bake a few muffins, not just for Zen, but also because you wanted to slowly get used to the idea of baking cakes for your future child.

That evening, you tried your best to act normal because you were overloading with happiness and excitement.

The next day, you woke up pretty quickly. One of the reasons was because you had the urge to throw up and the other reason was because you wanted to drop the news as soon as possible.

,,Mc, did you get checked up? Like-’’

,,Hyun, it’s just a virus. That’s why I had to cancel our reservation at the hospital,’’ you groaned as you again had to empty your stomach.

,,Of course, baby,’’ he whispered, holding your hair as he kept rubbing your back.

At times like these, he wished you could be like him, healing and getting better quickly.

But he also knew that you were a strong woman and didn’t have any problems.

,,Okay, I’m better,’’ you gasped as you went to wash your mouth. The taste you had in your mouth wasn’t really yummy and so you brushed your teeth before you decided to give him his present.

,,Here, for you,’’ you whispered as you laid back in bed, feeling a bit lightheaded.

Zen’s eyes went soft as he saw the big box, placing it on the floor and sitting next to it to open the present.

Just like you wanted, the balloons flew up, pulling the chokolate up.

Zen quickly grabbed the present and read the note out loud.

,,I’m excited. I never thought that Valentine’s Day could become so special one day,’’ he laughed.

You slowly teared up as you thought about how much better and special this day would become.

Zen opened the chocolate and inspected the picture.

He stayed silent for a second before he looked up at you again.

,,Really?’’ he asked you, whispering as his tears found a way out.

,,Really, Hyun, really.’’

Yoosung

You hurried home after the appointment, thinking about the best way to tell your husband that you were pregnant.

After you decided to take a look at some Pinterest boards, you decided to sew a little baby out of his clothes.

You once saw it in a drama and it was, in your opinion, the cutest idea.

And so, you took an old shirt of his and went down to the city, buying some stuff to fill your baby.

It took you the whole day to sew that baby, to first cut the material, put it together in a little cute baby outfit, and patch it together.

You were really happy back then; your teacher taught you how to sew at the machine and your mother bought you one back then.

Right when Yoosung entered, you just finished the little baby.

You were proud of yourself and were more than happy that you could hide the present before he came home.

,,Hello, my wife,“ he smiled and kissed you, seeing that you were in a better mood than in the morning.

,,You haven't cooked yet? Wanna do it together?“ he asked you, seeing that nothing was prepared.

,,Oh, I need to be honest. I took a good rest today and I forgot that it was already so late,“ you lied.

,,It’s okay! I can also order some sushi or-”

,,No sushi!“ you called, looking away.

,,Can we eat pizza?“ you asked him, trying to hide the fact that you preferred to not eat raw fish.

And so you both did, although Yoosung was kind of puzzled when you didn’t take the wine you both usually drank while eating pizza.

The day went by and the next morning finally arrived. You were happy to wake up just in time to set the table, prepare the breakfast, and put his bag with the baby doll on his seat.

,,Happy eighth anniversary,“ he whispered and kissed you, hugging your body from behind, nuzzling his head in your neck.

,,Eight years already,“ you sighed happily and turned around, ready to give him a deep, lovely kiss on his lips.

Yoosung quickly sat down, giving you his hand over the table as he put some sugar in his coffee.

,,That’s for you,“ he told you, giving you an envelope.

You smiled.

,,The bag in front of you is from me for you,“ you told him, as if someone else could have made him a present.

The both of you decided to open your present at the same time.

And once again, you surprised each other.

,,You want to adopt a child?“ you asked him as he almost screamed ,,YOU’RE PREGNANT?“

You both laughed at the same time. Yoosung quickly got up from his chair, getting on his knees as he kissed your belly with tears in his eyes.

,,I knew it! No sushi, no wine! I knew it!“ he sobbed, stroking the place where his baby was supposed to be.

,,Such a little human being will grow up here. Can you believe it?“ Yoosung asked you.

You were also now sobbing, shaking his head as you stroked his fluffy hair ,,Finally, Yoosung, finally,“

Jaehee

Your girlfriend couldn’t wait to hug you, hold you in her arms and so, as soon as she caught a glimpse of you at the train station, she hugged you, sobbing into your shoulder.

It was cold outside and you luckily came back right in time before the holy days of Christmas.

Jaehee still hugged you when suddenly, something soft and cold touched your nose, making you look up into the sky.

,,The first snow,’’ you whispered, making Jaehee loosen up her hug and look up too.

She chuckled as she knew that you loved the snow.

A few seconds later, the both of you walked hand in hand towards your shop. Jaehee was happy as you seemed to be in a happy mood.

Your fingers felt hot as hers were entangled in yours, stroking the skin of your finger with her thumb.

,,Go and take a warm shower. I will make us some food,’’ she mumbled and quickly left you alone.

And so, while the warm water of your shower hit your body, warming you up and relaxing your muscles, you thought of a way to tell Jaehee that you two finally did it.

Suddenly, you got a very good idea. Lately, you were into sublime stitching and found it hard to find new things to stitch, but now that you had your first ultrasound, you finally had a new challenge to take!

You copied your first ultrasound and sent it to your favorite artist, who was more than happy to make your ultrasound into a pattern with ink.

Just like always, you ironed the picture with the hot iron on your fabric, but this time you didn’t buy the pattern and indeed used your own.

You smiled as you saw how good it worked out. You were really proud of yourself that the first step was already so well done! 

But you couldn’t keep going as Jaehee called you to open the shop with her.

And so the weeks went by. You luckily didn’t have any symptoms that could have ruined the surprise for Jaehee.

You wanted to give it to her as a Christmas present after all.

You kept stitching along the line, slowly and accurately so that everything would look nice and neat.

When you finally finished, you felt yourself becoming emotional. This was now real, this present and this baby was really happening to you and Jaehee, who waited for so long for this.

The last step was to wash the fabric so that the blue ink would disappear, making it look once again much more beautiful.

,,I can’t wait for Christmas,’’ you chuckled to yourself and put the present into a little box.

,,You really didn’t have to,’’ Jaehee whispered the morning of Christmas Eve.

The both of you sat on your couch in front of your Christmas tree.

It was warm and cozy in your living room as you both were wearing the same Christmas hoodies.

You excitedly looked over to Jaehee as she opened the box.

Her fingers followed every stitched line, her lips began to tremble and it seemed as if she couldn’t breathe calmly.

You were getting worried, but soon enough Jaehee looked at you.

,,Is that yours?’’ she asked her, her voice was cracking.

,,Yes. I didn’t have the flu or covid, I’m pregnant,’’ you laughed.

Jaehee hugged you, not too strong, stroking the back of your hair as she enjoyed the warmth of your body.

,,I don’t have such a great present,’’ she laughed and kissed your cheek.

Saeyoung

The birthday of the twins was slowly approaching. By now you were eight weeks pregnant.

You still had symptoms and felt sick. Sometimes you couldn’t even cook, making Saeyoung worry for you, but you knew that this was worth it.

You chuckled as you thought about your self made toy you prepared as a present for Saeyoung. It was a toy he had to play first before the news of your pregnancy would be announced.

It took you a while to construct everything.

It was a game where he had to put cards together. To put them together, he had to form different sentences in different languages.

Matching cards would give him a letter and afterwards those letters would give him the sentence ,,You will be soon a daddy!’’ but of course, he had to also form this sentence.

Since it was kind of difficult to perform this all in Hangul, you decided to make it an english game.

For Saeran, you prepared a little teddy bear which would say ,,Hello Uncle’’ but of course, he wasn’t allowed to open his present until Saeyoung played with his present.

The 11th of June quickly approached you guys as you woke up one morning. Luckily, you still didn’t feel sick.

You hugged Saeyoung as you woke him up with a sweet kiss ,,Good morning,’’ you whispered, making him groan, but not open his eyes.

,,Hello, how did you sleep?’’ you asked him when he turned his body to you and hugged you back.

,,Good, but being awake next to you is better,’’ he whimpered and almost fell asleep again.

,,Ya! Your birthday breakfast is waiting for you!’’ you hissed and laughed.

He immediately jumped up, yelling for his brother. ,,SAERAN, YOU ARE TURNING A YEAR OLDER!’’ he laughed, making you shake your head.

But you were happy that Saeyoung finally found his brother. You could just imagine how it must have been for him to miss his second half for all those years.

And even though Saeran didn’t admit it, he probably missed his brother too.

The three of you were sitting around the table as they ate their soup. It was a special soup for their birthday.

,,I will give you your birthday present later when the other’s are here too,’’ you told them both, making your husband especially sad. ,,You always want your present at midnight and now I have to wait?’’ he asked you, whining as you laughed at him.

,,It’s special, that’s why,’’ you told him, making him sulk.

,,My presents are always special,’’ he whined but didn’t say anything anymore as he enjoyed his food.

You were nervous as the RFA came one by one. By now, you guys were always together. You saw yourselves as a family.

,,Okay guys, because of you I couldn’t open my present!’’ he whined and finally unpacked the box. At first he looked a bit… puzzled, which made you chuckle.

You explained to him how to play and even persuaded him to play on his own.

,,Boring that everyone is watching me,’’ he mumbled as Saeran kept patting his present, you told him he wasn’t allowed to open it yet.

,,Is that german? ,,Wir müssen…’’ what?’’ he laughed.

But one by one he did it and finally had the single letters that would give the hidden message.

,,I am pregnant, I don’t even have to think about it, that’s the message, right?’’ he said and immediately looked up at you, already in tears.

By now, Saeran too, unpacked his bear and in a big family embrace, Saeyoung cried into your shoulder.

Saeran

After you were brought to the maternity ward and they did some more tests, it seemed that it was official that you were pregnant!

Saeran got up as soon as he saw you walking out of the big doors.

,,Is it something serious? It took you so long and no one wanted to say anything,’’ he whined and took your hand between his, massaging your palm as he slowly walked out with you.

,,I just had to wait a long time,’’ you lied and smiled at him, trying to convince him that you just had a mere virus.

And so the days passed again and you worked on a present for Saeran who was a soon to be father.

You put a lot of thought into it and decided that doing something handmade would be much better than just telling him.

That’s why you decided to give him something your baby would get - a handmade baby blanket with his favorite flower patched on it.

You put a lot of hard work into it, using the best material and the most beautiful colors.

And since the gender was still unknown, you decided to go for a light beige color with some red details.

In the end, the blanket looked just too cute and it hit you - you were pregnant.

The day was nothing special when you told Saeran that you would like to go and eat an ice cream with him, something he agreed to immediately.

He took a few hours free and hand in hand with you, he went to buy ice cream for the both of you, enjoying the sun on your skin and the nature around you.

,,What do you have in that bag?’’ he asked you after a while, still licking his ice cream as he pointed at the little bag in your hand.

,,Nothing,’’ you began, ,,just something little I want to give you,’’ you told him, making him excited to know what you would like to give him.

To prevent the blanket from getting dirty, you decided to wait until the both of you were finished with the ice cream, giving you the chance to talk to Saeran a bit more about his day and your day.

,,Okay, now I’m ready,’’ he nodded and looked at the bag. He couldn’t wait to see what you had prepared for him in there.

He opened the bag and pulled out the self made blanket, observing every little detail.

He tilted his head as he looked at the length of it.

,,It’s a bit too little for you, right?’’ you laughed, making him laugh too.

Suddenly, Saeran saw a little note in there.

,,It’s not for you, it’s for your baby, Dad. Congratulations…’’ he whispered and put the note back into the bag, looking at the tiny blanket again.

You knew that he was happy, but probably overwhelmed with this news and so you decided to wait a few moments.

But as soon as the news arrived in his head, Saeran couldn’t prevent himself from hugging and thanking you a thousand times.

,,You...you always make me so happy…!’’ he whined.

,,I will give my best to become a good father,’’ he said with a trembling voice.

,,I won’t become like my parents. I will be a good one and I will protect you and our unborn child,’’ he whispered, his hand on your belly by now.

,,I promise,’’ he nodded.

,,I trust you, Saeran.’’

Jihyun

As soon as Saeyoung heard those words, he began to tear up and hugged you, patting your back. He was just so happy for you and Jihyun as he knew that the both of you had a hard time lately.

,,Let’s get back and prepare something!’’ he said in his mischievous smile and helped you to get into the car.

Of course, to keep it fair, Saeyoung wasn’t allowed to tell anybody. Instead, the both of you planned on how to tell Jihyun who would soon come back home.

,,How about I make a computer print of your future family and he has to paint it in little colors? We will just make it with so many details that he won’t notice from the beginning that it’s a family picture of four!’’ Saeyoung chuckled. You loved the idea and were more than happy to go with it.

You and Saeyoung worked on the details while the rest of the RFA weren’t at your home as they too had their personal lives.

Saeyoung and Saeran, however, stayed with you partly because Saeyoung prepared the surprise with you, but also because they both were worried.

When you finally finished with the layout and Saeyoung helped you to print it out, you wouldn’t be able to tell that this was a picture of a family.

,,I wonder how he will react,’’ you laughed and thanked him for his hard work.

,,Those were the longest six weeks I’ve ever experienced,’’ you whimpered when Jihyun finally arrived at home, Lucy on your hand, also more than happy to see her father.

Hugging the both of you, he nodded in agreement.

,,I also missed the both of you,’’ he said honestly.

Quickly letting him step in, you took his stuff and helped him to unpack before you told him that dinner would be soon ready.

,,I have a little challenge for you,’’ you laughed as you went back to your room to take the picture you prepared for him.

,,Oh, I saw that on Instagram,’’ he nodded, as he remembered the logic of the painting.

,,Yes, but I did this myself,’’ you said proudly, handling it over to him.

He laughed happily ,,I’m excited to work on it, thank you!’’ he laughed.

,,Yes, but there’s a hidden message in it so you need to hurry with it!’’ you told him, not knowing that you encouraged him to work on it the whole night after you fell asleep that night.

In the morning, when you just opened your eyes and saw his black bags below his eyes, paint all over his hands, you knew that he overworked himself.

,,Will we be able to adopt a child?’’ he asked you, his voice was raspy as he asked you, tears in his eyes, excited to know the answer.

You slowly shook his head, making him wonder if his sleepy eyes made him see something he just wanted to see.

But you didn’t want to tease him anymore so you finally told him. ,,I’m pregnant, Jihyun. I wasn’t sick back then, I was just… pregnant! I was having symptomes. We will have a child together soon!’’ you told him, slowly getting up from the bed.

,,I’m so happy,’’ he sighed and kissed your belly.

,,I will never go away for such a long time, I swear,’’ he whispered and then, with his knees on the floor and head on your lap, slowly fell asleep….

Vanderwood

You observed Vanderwood, noticing that the mood was being off for a few days.

To be honest, it was happening ever since you told him that you wanted to stop trying to have children for the time being.

Your eyes followed Vanderwood as he walked out and took out a cigarette, sluggishly smoking and looking around.

You began to chew on your lips as you thought back, maybe beginning the topic with ,,Yo’’ wasn’t the best way to start.

But there was no way back now and it didn’t matter anymore since you finally got pregnant.

You hoped that a day later, Vanderwood’s birthday, this silence between the both of you would be over finally as you wanted to surprise him with a self made cake which said, ,,Hello Daddy!’’

Of course, you firmly told him to not look at it, something he would never do since he knew how much you liked to surprise him.

,,Vandy,’’ you called him softly.

,,Don’t call me like that,’’ he groaned, a bit annoyed as he closed the door.

,,Are you angry at me?’’ you asked him, scared for his answer.

Vanderwood turned his body to you.

He didn’t look happy and you just noticed.

,,I’m not angry, I’m just… I have the feeling that you don’t really care about having a family with me while I work my ass of and-’’

,,Woah, what gives you that idea?’’ you asked him, slowly getting off the couch and looking at him.

You didn’t want to fight with him, but his comment… hurt you deeply.

,,Last time, sorry, but you approached the topic totally wrong!’’ he hissed, on his way to the kitchen.

You followed him there. He was partly right, you thought.

,,But, I was just… I didn’t know how to tell you, but this doesn’t mean that I don’t care,’’ you told him, your trembling voice making him look back at you.

,,I know. It still hurts though,’’ he whispered and opened the fridge to take out a cold drink.

,,You know what,’’ you told him, holding onto the door of the fridge and pulling out the cake you made for him which was covered with something so that he couldn’t see what was written on it with the chocolate.

,,What-’’ before Vanderwood could even say anything, you showed him the cake you prepared for him with the note written on it that you were pregnant.

,,It’s true. I was mean and I should have approached you differently, but I was so down, I didn’t think I could get pregnant anytime soon and- just don’t say anymore that I don’t care,’’ you finished your sentence and looked up, your tears were rolling down your cheeks as you were unsure of what to do now.

But Vanderwood knew what he had to do and softly took you in his arms, laying you down in the other room and kissing your neck.

,,You destroyed my surprise,’’ he whispered, giving you a kiss again.

,,Sorry for being selfish. I was mean while you’ve been carrying my baby,’’ he honestly apologized, stroking your flat womb as you sobbed into his shoulder.  

Part 4.1 of my pregnancy series here 

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

🤰🏻ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ sᴇʀɪᴇs🤰🏻Masterlist here

16.05.2021// 00:12 MEST

[lilacyennefer]

It is You, it is Me, it is Us

Anon asked:  Hi! Can I request “ Person A: “....You have far too much faith in me.” Person B: “And you have far too little.” with Angel Reyes? Thank you! 

A/N: Hi there! This is my first time writing for Angel so I'm a little nervous, but I got this request and loved it so much I quickly had to wrtie this at work today lmao. Anyway, I don't have an Angel Reyes tag list yet so if you want to be on it please comment or send an ask. I hope you guys like this :) Have a nice weekend!

WARNING: mention of vomiting, a little angst, lot of fluff, that’s all I guess

Angel always could count on you, he knew that. 

He always tried to keep you away from the club business, never really wanted to talk about it to you, he wanted to spare you, and he was afraid he’d get you into danger if you knew everything. 

But there was one point, a breaking point to Angel when he realised he only can count on you. 

EZ’s betrayal, and that Felipe took his little brother’s side, completely broke Angel. 

You were clueless when he came home, you had your own little secret that you kept from him, didn’t know how to tell him yet.

A baby. 

You figured it out two weeks ago that you were pregnant, and you were scared how Angel would react to this, so you didn’t tell him yet. 

You wanted to tell him that night when he came home, broken and angry, and hurt. 

Your heart broke when you saw how defeated he was, and again, you couldn’t make yourself to tell him, since you tried to pour some life back into him.

That night he told you everything that he was keeping from you, breaking down and needing someone to be there for him, telling him he wasn’t alone. 

You grabbed his hand, and your heart clenched when Angel looked at you with his teary eyes. 

You swallowed hard before you said anything.

“I’m here for you Angel, and with you.” You squeezed his hand “You can always count on me, no matter what. We are a family, and I’m always here. No matter what!” 

You take his face in your hands as you continue “I know you’re hurt right now, and you have every right to be. And you have to let yourself to feel this hurt, the anger. This house, and me, is your safe place, okay? You don’t have to hide any of your emotions, afraid that I’ll judge you for it. You know I would never. It’s okay to feel pain, to feel hurt, and ask someone to help you with it.” You gently wipe a tear off his cheek with your thumb “This is our safe place. You’re safe with me.” A small smile tugs the corner of your lips from your next sentence “And I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone hurt you, ever. I’m gonna protect you, no matter what. I don’t care that you’re a giant compared to me,” Angel chuckles “I’m still going to protect you.

“That’s supposed to be my job.” Angel tells you.

You nod “You do the physical protecting, and I do the emotional. As a team.” 

Angel looks at you for a very long moment, his eyes are skimming over your face. 

“You mean everything to me, I hope you know that.” He whispers as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close as possible. 

“Please never forget that.” You mutter against his chest, your secret is making your chest heavy.

A little bit over a week has passed some that night, and you still haven’t told Angel that you’re pregnant. 

One morning, you were laying in bed with him, he was still asleep, his head was resting on your chest, mouth open and slightly drooling on you, his tattooed arm was thrown around your belly, legs tangled together. 

Softly, careful not to wake him, you were running your fingers through his hair, when a sudden nausea hit you, and you could feel that you have to be in the bathroom in seconds.

“Oh god.” You whisper before you push Angel off of you, waking him, then you rush to the bathroom before you throw up. 

When Angel realised something was wrong, he rushed to the bathroom after you, squatting down next to you as he rubbed your back while you emptied your stomach into the toilet. 

“You shouldn’t see this.” You mutter.

“You saw me in worse states after parties.” Angel chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m afraid this isn't a hangover.”  

“Then what? Food poisoning? It seemed like you enjoyed the food last night.” 

“Angel, please can you get me a glass of water.” Is all you say.

“Shit, yeah!” He quickly gets up from the floor and goes to the kitchen to get you a glass of cold water. 

You gratefully take the glass from him and take a few sips in silence. 

You drank most of the water slowly, Angel was by your side the whole time, rubbing your back softly. 

“I’m gonna brush my teeth.” You mutter, and Angel leaves you alone while you get yourself together.

There’s no way of avoiding this anymore. 

After a quick shower, and brushing your teeth, you slightly felt better, until you stepped out of the bathroom and the strong smell of coffee hit your nose, and you can’t help but make a disgusted face. 

“What is this smell?” You ask Angel as you walk into the kitchen.

“Coffee.” He says simply.

“What? You love coffee, especially the smell of it.” He states when he sees your disgusted expression.

You take a deep breath. It’s now or never. 

“Angel, I have to tell you something.” You say nervously. 

Angel, seeing your serious expression, furrows his brows as he walks closer to you.

“What’s wrong, mi dulce?” He places his big hand on the side of your face, his palm covers the most of your cheek. 

You take another deep breath, then close your eyes before you whisper “I’m pregnant.” 

You don’t open your eyes as you wait for Angel’s reaction, but your eyes snap open when you hear laughing. 

“Yeah, that’s really funny Y/N.” 

You keep looking at him, as serious as you can to prove that you’re not joking.

Does he really think that you’re joking?

Angel is still smiling and shaking his head, but when he looks at you again, his smile fades.

“Wait, are you serious?” 

“Do you really think I would joke with something like this?” You snap “This has been killing me in the past few weeks! I’m constantly terrified of your reaction, that you’ll leave me, and you think I’m joking?!” 

Angel opens his mouth to say something, but he stops when he sees tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I wanted to tell you that night you came home and told me about EZ’s betrayal. I couldn’t make myself to do it, I was afraid it would break you even more.” You cry. “I’m so terrified, Angel, ever since I know it. We never talked about this, I have no idea what’s your opinion about this, I’m afraid you’ll think that I’m baby trapping you.” You sob “I’m confused, afraid, and all alone in this.” 

“You’re not alone!” Angel says firmly “Shit, I certainly wasn’t expecting this. I never imagined myself as a family type, as a father, but fuck, I also never imagined myself being so fucking in love with a woman, but here we are.” Angel takes your face in his hands. “Did we plan this? No. Am I terrified? Absolutely. But in no way, I’ll leave you, or force you into something that you don’t want.” The whole time your eyes are fixed on Angel’s chest, not meeting his eyes as you cry.

“Look at me, my love, please.” Angel asks you softly.

You look up at him.

“We are in no way ready for this, but the fact that we will have a mini us, the perfect mix of both of us, running around here in a few months makes me excited.” Angel smiles, and you can’t help but smile too.

“And if you’ll stay with me, I can promise you that I’ll keep knocking you up.” He winks, and you can’t help, but snort at his words. 

“Let’s wait and see how we can handle one baby, at first.” 

You’re six months pregnant now. 

Things were going easier than you thought they’ll go, and You and Angel were incredibly happy about your baby.

But you couldn’t ignore the fact that something was bothering Angel, you didn’t ask what is it, you’re almost sure that it’s club business, and if he wants to tell you, he will.

But you couldn’t ignore the mean thoughts in your brain, saying that he’s distant because he hates the sight of you, he hates the fact that you’re getting bigger and bigger, and he can’t look at you anymore, and he’s probably with one of Vicky’s girls. 

These thoughts made you break down in painful sobs. 

One night, you’re laying in bed, on your back, watching something on tv when Angel comes home. 

You hear him take his Kutte off, his shoes, as he slowly walks towards the bedroom that you share.

“You should be sleeping.” He says when he sees you being awake.

“I’m not sleepy. Hormones you know.” 

“I’m gonna take a shower quickly.” Angel says before he disappears in the bathroom.

You turn off the tv while you wait for him.

After like 5 minutes, Angel comes out of the bathroom, wearing only a loose black boxer that he loves to sleep in. 

He lays down next to you, turning towards you, drinking in the sight of you. 

Placing a hand on your round belly he whispers “You’re so beautiful.” 

It’s your turn now to turn your head towards him so you can look at him.

“And here I thought you hated the sight of me.” You whisper, voice so small you’re not sure that Angel heard you. 

But he did.

His head snapped up with a confused, and somehow offended expression.

“Why the fuck you’d say that?” 

“I can see that something is wrong. And I’m getting bigger, and bigger…”

“Stop right there!” Angel says forcefully. “You really think that’s the reason?”

You don’t reply.

Angel licks his lips, he’s no longer looking you in the eyes, but it’s fixed on your round belly. 

“I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up.” He confesses “I’m afraid that I’ll be a horrible father, and our child will hate me. All I can think about is that I will fuck it up.” 

“Angel.” You whisper “You won’t fuck this up. Not as long as I’m here and we do this together.”

“You can’t know that.” He shakes his head.

“Yes, I can. Because I know you Angel Reyes. You might fuck things up, but who doesn’t?!? Everyone makes mistakes, but the only thing important is that we learn from them. And you do, my love. You’re going to be the most amazing father. And you know why?” 

Angel shakes his head.

“Because you have a big heart. And when you love someone, you give everything you have to them, you love them more than anything, and you would do anything for them. I know it’s true, because I feel it everyday.” 

“You have far too much faith in me” Angel whispers.

“And you have far too little.” You reply “You have to start believing in yourself, mi Angelito.” 

“You’re going to be an amazing father, and this little one is lucky to have you as their dad.” 

Angel moves closer to you, placing a hand on your belly as he kisses you lovingly. 

“Thank you. For everything.” Angel whispers against your lips.

“Always, my Angel. Always. 

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ JUST A ONE-NIGHT STAND? ❜

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to @jayhalsstead.

❚❙ If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

You're trying to be more silent than ever in your life, checking for the fifth time the hour on your phone. Outside, Chicago is still submerged under the cold night but you have to go first to your house to take a shower and change your clothes. Putting on the black dress you were wearing, before Hank took it off in a tipsy state, you pick up your things in your bag making sure you don't forget anything. Yesterday was an intensive day for the two of you and you drank too much. That's how you ended up tangled in his sheets.

Grabbing your jacket and your shoes, you step out from his room, leaving the door almost closed. You don't want to wake him up, aware that it's his day off and that he doesn't have any necessity to get up at six in the morning. So, taking so much care walking downstairs, you abandon the house putting on your shoes once on the porch. The fresh air of November fills up your lungs, alleviating somehow the strong headache hitting your whole anatomy.

Driving back to your house, enjoy how emptied are the streets at this point of the day, you can't take off from your mind the fact that you have fucked one of your bosses. Technically, he's not directly, because you're just another cop in the 21st District and he runs the Intelligence Unit. But if he needs you on a mission, he turns automatically into your boss. Anyhow, you're fucked up if someone figures out what has happened. And it's not only about that, but about the feelings you have for him. You don't talk about love, but about something else than just a physical attraction.

Shaking your head as you reach your house, sooner than expected, you hold your bag and your jacket with a hand ready to use the free one to grab your keys.

“(Y/L/N)! You're late”.

Only. One. Minute. It's seven in the morning and one damn minute and Platt is already complaining, as your partner is next to the main desk waiting for you to patrol the district. Running faster than ever to the locker room, you place your bag inside your blue compartment, to wear over the uniform the body armor and your badge. You haven't even had time to drink a coffee and you need it like air to continue living right now. Hurry, but a little sleepy yet, you step out from the police station zipping your jacket to finally start your shift.

And of course, you can't stop thinking about Hank. About what he will think when he wakes up alone in his bed. Will he call you? Will he text you? Will he say something to you tomorrow, when he returns to work? Finding your heart racing and somekind of anxiety in your chest, you have to shake your head slightly. It's not possible that you're really falling in love after a one-night stand with that man. He was good. Pretty good, you're not going to deny it. But love? That's a big deal.

“Hey, you okay?” Ashton inquires, bringing you back to reality.

Nodding with your lips pressed, you raise up your eyes from your trembling hands to the front, rubbing them against your thighs.

“You disappeared early last night from Molly's”. Turning the corner, keeping a low pace while he drives, you try to find an excuse.

I went to another bar because I wanted to be alone and ended up being fucked by Hank Voight might be a little rude.

“I was tired… you know, long day”. Nervously laughing, you just shrug your shoulders.

The morning continues uneventfully, being allowed to be back to the police station after three hours of shift, to have a break of twenty minutes. You don't know how it has been possible for you to survive without any caffeine in your organism. But you could kill anyone right now, if they stop you on your way to the common lounge to have a cup of black coffee that gives you life every day.

You can't help but gasp closing your eyes as soon as the aroma fills up your lungs, but your wrist is grabbed by another hand coming behind you, when you're about to drink a sip. Putting away the mug from your fingers, Hank rests his waist against the counter with a serious and upset grimace installed on his face. He offers you a large white cup of take-away coffee that smells like heaven.

“Colombian coffee, from the best cafeteria in Chicago”.

His raspy voice gives you some shivers, feeling your cheeks burning ashamed. But when you are about to grab it, his hand goes back some inches.

“It's the first and the last time you leave my bed without waking me up”. He demands then, knowing that he isn't joking. “You hear me?”

“Loud and clear”.

That's everything you're able to utter, taking the cup to have a long sip. The hot liquid warms your whole body, falling down your throat and flooding your stomach. Hank takes the advantage to pull down a little the black turtle neck covering your skin, to check triumphantly that the bruise he drew last night is still there. A fleeting smile curves his mouth, just for one second, before leaning forward and kissing you. A soft touch enough to taste the coffee impregnated on your lips.

“I like it more now”. He whispers, keeping his eyes glued on yours.

“(Y/L/N), are you ready? Platt has given me anot— whoa, sorry”. Ashton stops his tracks with a hand on the doorknob.

Luckily, Hank has been faster, pulling himself away before your partner could see anything.

“Don't fuck it up again, okay?” He asks pointing at you with his forefinger.

Just nodding, you gulp before licking your bottom lip.

“Johnson”. The greet comes from his mouth as he turns around, before leaving the common room, watching him walk straight upstairs to his office.

“Everything okay?”

“Uh? Yeah, yeah! Don't worry. Let's see what Platt has for us now”.

Muddle through as fast as you can, you don't even give him the chance to ask from where you have got that coffee, passing him away with one of his brows raised up confused and curious at the same time.

[onebatch2batch]

kastle + "“Is that.. my shirt?” please and thank you❤️❤️

HI, I KNOW YOU SENT THIS A MILLION YEARS AGO BUT I JUST FINISHED IT SO HOPEFULLY YOU LIKE IT <3

--

If there’s one thing Karen hates most in the world, it’s laundry. Which isn’t entirely warranted, because a majority of her things are dry clean only, and she usually only has to do a load or two herself every other week—but still. She hates that it feels like an all day affair, she hates folding everything, she hates the feel of the lint of her fingers when she removes it from the filter. So when a warm Saturday in June arrives and she’s low on clothes, like really low on clothes, Karen realizes she should start a load. 

Unfortunately, her body is not on board with the idea. She wakes up slow, eats some late breakfast, and lethargically gathers the clothes strewn about her apartment. It’s a Saturday, so she has nothing to do but procrastinate. Procrastination forces her into the shower, and procrastination has her drinking coffee in a towel at the edge of her bed as she realizes that she has nothing to put on. It’s either she wears a skirt and blouse around the apartment or a towel until the first load is done. 

Or, her brain supplies helpfully, there’s Frank’s drawer. 

Karen’s eyes slide unwittingly towards her dresser, where the bottom drawer remains firmly closed. He’s been out of town for the last week or so with Curtis, up in the mountains with absolutely no reception. She knows it’s good for him to get away every once in a while, especially with his friends, but part of her—the smallest part, the only part not thinly veiled in denial—wishes he would have asked her along. It’s a thought she’s had a lot in the last couple days, accompanied by the hollow ache left by his absence. 

God, she misses him. 

She misses his surprise visits that turn into too much wine and inevitably leading to his crashing on the couch. She misses waking in the morning to freshly brewed coffee and he at the kitchen counter, head bowed over a book. She misses walking into the bathroom and inhaling Frank’s steamy post-shower smell: cedarwood, something earthy, something subtly metallic. It’s both a blessing and a curse to have him stay the night at her place; she only wishes it was in her bed, not on the couch. 

Karen sighs. Goosebumps are starting to pebble on her skin from the AC, and so she steels her resolve and kneels before Frank’s drawer. She’d casually offered it to him months ago over breakfast. You spend the night enough, she tells him while staring resolutely into her mug. Might as well have a change of clothes here just in case you need them. 

She had felt his eyes on her, all intense heat and wariness, long enough for her to fidget. And then finally he’d said: Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Karen. 

The drawer is filled with a myriad of things, and not just clothes. On the top of the pile there’s a paperback by Jack Kerouac, a box of ammo, and a pair of spare keys she suspects is to that intimidating black van he drives. Underneath is a pair of socks, boxers (that she hurriedly paws past), some grey sweatpants (that look absolutely sinful on him, she recalls), and a pair of dark jeans. At the very bottom is a long sleeved henley and a plain black t shirt—Karen pulls out the t shirt and slips it over her head before she can talk herself out of it.

It’s comfortable, if a little too big. The hem hangs just past her hips when she stands, so Karen slips on a pair of underwear and leaves it at that. The rest of the afternoon she spends doing laundry and pretending as if she can’t smell him on her with every inhale. And when the guilt starts to eat at her, she tells herself that the shirt will be cleaned and replaced before Frank even knows it’s missing. 

—

Except it isn’t, because of course it isn’t. 

Hour three of dragging herself through the slowest washing machine cycle in the world (she’d splurged a little on an apartment with a hook up, too unwilling to deal with the laundromat down the block) and the worst dryer to accompany it (she hadn’t so much splurged on the actual machines)—finds Karen on the couch, flipping through the television channels. It’s nearly four o’clock and the temperature outside has finally broken, so the air is off and the windows are open. A soft breeze occasionally brushes over the exposed skin of her legs. And there’s absolutely nothing on the television. 

So she does what any sane person would do, and returns to Frank’s drawer for the book. Not that she doesn’t have plenty of her own reading material, but she’s never read Kerouac and she’s a little curious what Frank sees in him. It’s halfway through the first chapter that she realizes there’s a key turning in the lock, and that Frank’s back. 

Because of course he would walk in to this: her, clothed in underwear and his t shirt and no bra; sitting with her legs stretched across the couch cushions, back against the arm; his book in her hands as she struggles to parse the casual run-ons of Kerouac; a basket of half folded laundry on the floor. And he does—his face appears at the end of the hall leading to her front door and he pauses, bag slung over his shoulders and eyebrows raised to his hair. 

“Hi, Frank,” Karen greets, carefully closing the book. “How was your trip?”

His eyes glance quickly at her exposed legs, and then up to his t shirt, back down to her legs, and then up to her face. Karen relishes in the warm flush that spreads across his cheeks, even if it is partially covered by his beard. “It was, uh, it was good,” he tells her roughly, unmoving. His eyes stray back to her lower half. “Is that...my shirt?”

Karen realizes that she should be embarrassed by her lack of clothes or admonished for going through his things without asking. But the only thing she really can feel is frustrated as a thought strikes her. That day in the hospital when she and Frank were alone--before Amy had interrupted--after Karen had all but blurted her feelings into the stale, tension-heavy room. His entire body had been covered in lacerations and zig zagged with stitches; his face was bruised and battered. He’d been so evasive with her, gaze hardly connecting with her own before darting away again. She’d been so afraid for him. Hopeless. And frustrated. 

“You could love someone else instead of another war.”

“I don’t want to.”

At the time he’d been so determined, so set in his jaw as the hoarse declaration hung in the air. She wonders if that’s changed now, months of spending the night and phone calls and take out dinners later. If she were to ask the same question now—what he would say? 

“It is,” she tells him evenly.

Frank’s hand tightens on the strap of his bag, a nervous gesture. “Why?” he finally asks.

“I haven’t been pining after you, if that's what you mean. I was out of clothes.” Karen offers him a small smile, trying to quell the bout of butterflies that erupt in her stomach at the rough edge to his voice. 

To her relief he smiles. The tension eases from his shoulders. “You don’t seem like the pinin’ type.”

“I’m not.” Liar, liar, no pants on fire. “You just got back?” 

He nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Was thinking about gettin’ dinner.” 

“You find the take out menu, I’ll put pants on,” she wages.

Frank’s blush rises. He coughs and then turns, walking into the kitchen at a pace quicker than usual. Karen fidgets with the hem of the shirt, waiting until she can hear the telling sound of the coffee machine being manhandled. She grapples for a pair of leggings in the basket beside her and hurriedly puts them on. 

“Sorry about the shirt,” she says loudly. “I was completely out of laundry and I figured you wouldn’t be back for a while. I’ll wash it for you.” 

Frank reappears in the doorway, eyes on the floor until he’s sure she’s fully clothed. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles. “It’s nothin’.”

“I went into your things, Frank, I hardly think that’s nothing.” 

At that, he meets her gaze. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he counters, shooting her a grin. 

Karen huffs out a laugh. “Whatever. Hang on, I’m going to change out of this and then I'll order the food.” 

“No.” 

Karen swivels her head to give Frank a surprised look. The intensity of his no is startling but he seems as shocked as she is. There’s a beat of silence, and then he clears his throat and looks away as his finger starts that familiar rhythm against his leg. “I mean. You don’t have to. If you’re comfortable.” 

She considers pushing it. She doesn’t. Not yet. 

“I am. Thanks.” 

—

Several hours later, Karen realizes their bottle of wine is empty. She’s sitting against one arm of the couch with Frank against the other. Her legs bridge the gap between them, and if she were to point her toes she could touch the strong muscle of his thigh. Their take out boxes sit empty on the coffee table, and Frank has his head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling. The apartment is quiet.

“So what did you and Curtis do in the mountains?” Karen asks into the silence, hesitant to break it but curiosity finally getting the better of her. 

Frank sips his wine, and then turns his head to look at her. Karen is struck by how handsome he looks, the setting sun’s orange rays highlighting the curve of his nose and the warmth of his eyes. “Stupid shit,” he tells her with a chuckle. “We chopped up some trees, went hikin’--that asshole’s still faster’n me even with that leg--I read a lot. Talked. Drank some.”

Karen waggles her eyebrows. “Does that mean you guys got hammered in a cabin?”

His mouth curves into an amused smile. “Takes a lot to get me hammered, Karen.”

“When’s the last time you were?”

Karen is always careful about asking questions regarding his past. She knows it’s dangerous territory--one small slip could turn their conversation from lighthearted banter to emotional warfare. That’s the last thing she wants for him, for them. 

Thankfully, Frank has a quick answer. “Can’t remember. Years.”

She hums, curiosity piqued. She wonders what an overabundance of alcohol does to someone like Frank Castle--someone who is already so intense, so physical. Someone who already isn’t afraid to cry in front of her, who isn’t afraid to show emotion--would he close himself off, shut down? Would he laugh more? Would he touch her more than the casual touches she already receives? Would he kiss her? A thrill runs through her at the thought. She stays firmly planted on the couch, fighting the urge to grab the whiskey in her cupboard and put her theory to the test. 

“What about you?”

“What?”

Frank fixes her with an amused look. “The last time you were sideways.”

“Oh. A couple weekends ago, Foggy came over.” She smiles, remembering. “Marcie was out of town so he brought over the wine and we did--well, this. Take out and wine. A lot of wine.”

There’s an expression on his face she can’t figure out. A mixture of forced casualness, of caution, of amusement. “So this is--...” He pauses, takes a drink of his wine, starts again. “This is what you do with your other friends?”

Two thoughts settle into the sudden ache in her chest at his words. That on one hand he does, in fact, consider her a friend. She’s not just a warm body to keep the loneliness at bay. Which she’s known that for a long time, of course. They trust each other in the way that only two people who have gone through a number of life-changing and dangerous ordeals together can--why wouldn’t they be friends? The second thought is how carefully he speaks the word friends, as if solidifying the idea. As if reminding her of their relationship status. As if to say, we’re friends, and I know you want more--but I can’t. So we’re friends.

“Yep. This is what I do with my other friends. All two of them.” The joke falls flat, overshadowed by the catch in her voice. Karen finishes off her glass of wine and decides she will get out the whiskey after all. Even if he doesn’t drink it, she needs something a little stronger than just another Rosé. She starts to get up, but his hand catches her ankle and keeps her firmly in place.  

“You’re upset.” He looks at her cautiously from under a furrowed brow. His hand doesn’t lift from her skin, and it sends an unfair thrill through her. Karen’s toes curl before she can stop them, pushing against his thigh. 

“I’m not upset.”

He frowns. “And now you’re lying. Did I say somethin’?”

She doesn’t want to lie to him. She also doesn’t want to tell him the truth. There’s a nagging thought in the back of her mind that says if she’s honest with him, he’ll be scared off. He’ll decide her feelings are too much for him to handle, and then he’ll leave. Again. 

Her heart couldn’t bear it. 

Karen tugs her leg out of his grasp and sets her feet on the carpet. He sits forward, trying to capture her eyes again. “Karen,” he says gently. It’s cautious and worried, and so completely Frank in the way he grinds out her name that the words escape her before she can stop them. 

“It’s nothing, Frank. We’re friends, and that’s all, and I’m being selfish wanting more. I’ve just been--I’m not trying to--...” she glances over helplessly, but he’s giving her a look that she can only describe as stricken. She looks away quickly, desperate for a change of topic. Desperate to pull herself out of the hole that she’s dug for herself. There’s a brief moment of silence where she tries to decide what to do, outside of leaping from her fire escape, and then she hears Frank move. The cushion dips next to her. Warm fingers intertwine with her own, and then his lips are pressed to the back of her hand. 

“Shit, Karen,” Frank murmurs, exasperated. “For a smart woman, you’re bein’ pretty stupid.”

She’s still stuck on her fact that his breath is dancing over her skin, and that he’s pressed against her side, and that he still hasn’t released her. That he hasn’t gotten up and made a hasty exit. His words barely register. “What?” she asks weakly. 

“Curtis and I did a lot of talkin’ this weekend,” he says, staring to look her in the eye. The sudden change of topic throws her off balance. Before she can get a word in, he’s continued on. His thumb strokes her palm. “And a lot of it was dumb shit. We talked about his new apartment, the one he had to get after Billy shot up his old one. He says it gets a lot of sunlight. He talked about how the vet group is going and what team he thinks will win the World Series this year. It was good, and easy. We talk about some hard stuff too. We talked about Maria and the kids, and the war, and you.”

She’s not sure she likes being in the ‘hard’ category, but he seems to be edging towards a point, so Karen remains quiet. 

“And after we talked through all that other stuff, Curtis told me I was bein’ an idiot. He told me that you’re a good woman, and an even better friend. That I needed to make a decision before someone else made it for me.” He pauses, looking away. In the following silence, she digests his words and tries to keep the hope from blossoming in her chest. His hand is still warm in hers, and the earthy, woodsy smell of him fills her nose. 

He doesn’t speak long enough for Karen to finally hedge, “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Frank.”

He turns back to her and offers a tiny, nervous smile. Not many things make a man like Frank Castle nervous, and the thought eases some of the tension from her body. She grips his fingers and holds her breath. 

“I’m tryin’ to tell you that I’m yours, if you’ll have me. I don’t want to be friends, Karen. I want you. I want more, too.”

In retrospect, her next words could have been a little more eloquent. She could have taken an extra second to think of something romantic and elated. Something that matches his earnestness. What she actually says is, “Frank Castle, you’d better quit keeping me waiting and kiss me.”

His eyes widen briefly, and then he’s grinning at her. His free hand cradles her cheek and between one breath and another he’s doing just that. Karen wont admit to herself how often she thought of this moment, but she does think about how every imagining doesn’t come close. She never could have pictured the tenderness with which he kisses her or the feeling that swells inside her. There’s no daydream in the world that compares to the softness of his lips or the sensation of his beard against her chin. She fists one hand in his coat, letting the other drift up into his hair. It’s longer, curling at his temple, and when she gently tugs he lets out a groan that makes her shiver. His tongue swipes at her bottom lip and she grants him access eagerly. The kiss devolves into wandering hands, heaving breaths, and the distinct feeling that Karen is being carefully, intimately devoured. 

After some time, Karen forces herself to pull away. Frank backs off immediately, a flash of concern in his gaze, but she gives him a small smirk, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his chest. 

“How do you feel about me taking off the shirt now?” she asks casually. 

Her meaning sinks in quickly. His fingers grasp at the hem, dancing along the bare skin on her hips. Frank gives her a mischievous, sinfully attractive smile. “If you’re comfortable,” he repeats, and then drags his shirt up and over her head.

The buzzer on the dryer goes off in the background, but Karen has never been less inclined to attend to it than she is now. In fact, she thinks, if wearing his shirt gets this reaction, I may never do laundry again. 

It’s a nice thought, but then Frank lips meet her shoulder and she doesn’t think about laundry for a long, long time.

[reddie-fangirl24]

Eddie, The Patient Chapter 1     (A Reddie Fanfiction)

Note: Hi all, this is a story that is based on a chapter in one of Beverly Cleary’s books, Ramona. And it is also based on another fanfic I wrote for another fandom I am in. Because I am such a Reddie fanatic, I couldn’t get this scenario out of my head. I cannot wait for you guys to read it. More chapters are soon to come. Enjoy!

Waking up with the most horrible ache in his cranium, Eddie clutched at his stomach, groaning. Slowly sitting up from the pillows, Eddie turned off the incessant beeping from the alarm clock sitting on the table next to his side of the bed. That irritating noise made his head feel worse like a bowling ball was crushing it. And his stomach churned like a boat sailing through the sea.

He didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. There was no way he was going to be able to go to work like this today. It was best to stay home, rest and... no. A first-year teacher like himself calling out because of some little illness? That would look terrible on his report! 

Don’t overreact Eddie, you know it’s all in your head. And you know what happens to you when you think like that! Yes, Myra was right. But, his mother always thought the worse whenever Eddie sniffled or coughed.

Denying that he was sick and that this was something that would pass, Eddie dragged himself out of bed, getting out of his comfortable pajamas, and hardly cared about what he dressed in for the day. Seeing was a hard enough task, cringing from the bright sun shining through the windows. 

Walking into the kitchen felt as if he were carrying an elephant over his shoulders. Pouring himself a bowl of cheerios, Eddie turned his nose up at the bowl of cheerios, Eddie turned his nose up at the unappetizing meal floating in the milk. Only eating three unwanted spoonfuls, Eddie felt as if he wanted to heave. Even holding a spoon felt like too much of an effort.

Oh no. That student who was sick on Monday that he had to escort to the nurse. It was in the rule book that no student should ever walk to the nurse’s office alone. Luckily (Well, not for them) his student threw up right when he showed up. After work, Eddy went home and scrubbed his body until his skin was red that night. Apparently, it didn’t work. 

No, no! Don’t think like that! I’m not sick! It’s all in your head!

“What the hell is the matter with you, you piece of shit?!”

For a moment, Eddie believed that his husband was shouting at him. His mind was so muddled that he didn’t even notice that the other end of the bed was empty that morning. Due to Richie’s career he hardly ever had to work during the day. Today, however, he must have had rehearsals or a meet to attend to.

Turning his head ever so slightly, Eddie just glimpsed Richie’s head from out the kitchen window. Why was there a black sludge mark on his face? He was struggling to push something out of the driveway. Was it heard of cows? Making out thick black smoke, Eddie could only guess that it was the car.

Oh no. Eddie kept telling Richie that it was time for a new car, but he wouldn’t listen. Oh, just thinking about the situation worsened his stomach. Maybe if he stayed as stiff as a statue he’d feel better. The more he moved, he felt worse.

“Hey, Steve, It’s Richie.” He must have been talking on the phone to his manager. “Listen, I’m having car troubles. No, no, no I will be in, I just need to take my car into a shop so they can have a look... Yeah I know we’re rehearsing for tonight’s big show by eleven. I will be there! I’m just going to take my car in and then... wait, what? I thought we weren’t doing that segment. I haven’t even rehearsed that part of the show!”

Smacking his lips together to try and get rid of that fermenting taste, Eddie groaned. He couldn’t tell Richie about how he was feeling. He was under enough stress as it was. Due to the life-threatening injury that doctors called a miracle he even lived five years ago, Eddie’s immune system wasn’t as strong. He got sick easily. Not to mention, it took longer to recover compared to how others got better within a quicker timeframe.

Richie had canceled a good number of his events just to take care of him. While that was great, Eddie felt that he was getting in the way of Richie’s career. No, he could never do that. Richie had been talking about this event for weeks. And thinking back to his own job, his boss wouldn’t be happy with him calling out at the last minute. That happened enough times as it was.

Heaving his achy body up from the chair while holding the heavy bowl, walking to the sink felt like a longer walk than normal. Feeling his stomach lurch, Eddie grasped the sink counter breathing in and out of his nose.

“... Yeah, okay, as I said, I will be there! And I will bring my script of suggestions!”

Richie stormed into the house, grumbling to himself. Walking into the kitchen he only just glanced at Eddie standing over by the sink, struggling to keep himself up. He stuffed a banana in his mouth and drank some coffee. Due to the car and scheduling for events, the morning escaped him. 

“I’m not going to have the time to drive you to work, sorry. Steve booked like a zillion interview rehearsals and the fuckin’ car just decided that it didn’t want to back up! You don’t mind walking, do you?”

Oh, please drive me? I can barely stand. “No.” That was the first thing Eddie said all morning. It felt like such an effort to even talk. And it hurt.

“Great. I think I’m working late tonight. I’m going to leave now so I can get the car in and then get over to the studio. You never know how long it could take to hail a taxi in the morning rush,” Richie said. Then he laughed. “Hey, maybe I could get a taxi for free ‘cause I’m, you know, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier! Do you think that could happen?!”

Turning around, Richie just caught a glimpse of Eddie disappearing around the corner, opening the front door. “Maybe.” And Eddie was gone.

If it weren’t for his phone ringing, it was then that Richie noticed that there wasn’t a smell of toast in the air. And Eddie’s barely-eaten bowl of cheerios was left in the sink without so much of an effort of being cleaned nor being put in the dishwasher as Eddie insisted. Richie lost count on the number of times Eddie chewed him out for leaving dirty dishes in the sink.

Hurrying to catch up with Eddie who was already walking down the last step, Richie struggled to lock the front door trying to keep an eye on Eddie as he half-listened to his manager ramble on. “Yeah, ‘k, cool. No, not cool! Sorry, I was, uh... just hold on a sec... Eddie, are you okay?” he called out.

Hugging himself to keep warm despite the sun shining, Eddie stared back at Richie who was getting smaller the further distance his jello-like legs took him. No, please stop me from going through with this stupid decision. “Yes.”

Was it the smudges on his glasses or did Eddie look sickly pale? And now that he thought about it they didn’t even kiss each other goodbye like they did every morning! Was Eddie made at him for coming home late last night? He was already in bed. And it wasn’t even ten. “Um... okay, I lo- huh, yeah, Steve, I’m still here! Wait, what time? Shoot, I have to get my car in now! Can Barry or whatever that limo guy’s name is come pick me up?”

Trudging along, listening to his stomach making uncomfortable noises, and wanting so badly to go back to bed, Eddie tried to stay positive that he could somehow get through this day.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 24

WARNING: MENTIONS OF DRUG ADDICTION, ALCOHOLISM, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, PTSD

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

  It had been a rough night.

Despite both physically and mental exhaustion, persistent and throbbing pain in both the knee and the shoulder had made it nearly impossible to get comfortable; meds weren’t successful in even taking the edge of, nor was a steaming hot shower or ice packs.  And when he had managed to drift off, he was plagued by nightmares. Vivid recollections of both childhood trauma, the death of his son, and the worry surrounding Millie’s impending sixth birthday. It had all blended together. One moment he was a little boy cowering in his bedroom closet as he listened to his father berate and physically beat on his mother. The next he was back on the beach with Austin who was no longer a little boy but a young man with his father’s eyes and a mop of blond hair; holding soon to be six-year-old Millie’s hand while they waded through the surf. And while Austin hadn’t said a word, Tyler had been begging him to leave Millie behind. Arguing that it wasn’t her time yet; still so many years ahead of her, so many things she was going to accomplish, milestones that she was going to reach and surpass.  

But Austin wouldn’t listen; refusing to be swayed by the tears and the pleading and the bargaining. Tyler willingly offering his life in exchange for his daughter’s. He’d lived a long enough life; making amends for most of his mistakes and he had nothing valuable or worthwhile left to give to the world. He had learned how to love again, and he had FELT love, and that was enough.   He was the one that Austin wanted, after all. The one that abandoned him when Austin had needed him the most. It should be him paying for the error of his own ways, not a little girl that was innocent and pure and still had so much living left to do. None of it had mattered. Austin had still taken her. Bringing Tyler to his knees; a broken, despondent, and sobbing mess.

He hadn’t been aware that he’d been talking and thrashing in his sleep. Not until his wife had violently shaken him awake and his eyes had snapped open and was greeted by the fear and the concern in hers. He’d been drenched in sweat; tears streaming down his face, heart racing, chest heaving as he attempted to draw breath into tight, aching lungs. It wasn’t the first time in the last seven years that he’d had a nightmare; for a straight twenty-four months following Dhaka he’d have at least two or three every night. Even when he’d been in the hospital and she’d climb into bed beside him, holding his head to her chest and clearing his tears away with gentle fingers and stroking his hair until he fell back asleep.  It was then that he’d discovered it was okay to let his guard down; he could experience moments of weakness and vulnerability with her and never face judgment or condemnation for it.  Eventually the nightmares had just stopped. One morning he’d woken up after managing a straight six hours of sleep and he’d felt like a new person.  

Within a month, other things had started to surface. Crippling depression, intense anxiety and terrifying panic attacks, thoughts of suicide. Not just wanting to end his life, but actually planning on how he would do it. The diagnosis of PTSD hadn’t come as a total surprise; you don’t live a life like his and commit the fuck ups you do without paying the price. But it had left him feeling weak and pathetic; embarrassed that he’d been reduced to nothing more than a shell of the man he used to be.  

Yet Esme had stuck by him through it all. Enduring almost seven years that must have...at the darkest and lowest of moments...felt like seven lifetimes. And she’d stayed by his side last night as well; fetching anxiety meds and  cool, damp cloth that she’d used to wipe down his face, forehead, and the back of his neck. Never saying a word the entire time she tended to him; the little smiles she’d give him, the concern and the love in her eyes, and her soft, soothing hands doing all the communicating.  Not once did they speak to one another, and when he had finally calmed down and his breathing had returned to normal, he’d laid on his back with tears still burning his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. And she’d quietly nestled in beside him. Her forehead resting on his shoulder and her fingers combing through his hair. And he’d managed to drift off again; lulled to sleep by the sensation of fingertips lightly gliding across his forehead and the feel of her warm, steady breath against his skin.  

It’s daybreak now; brilliant sunshine peeking over the horizon. The winds had become stronger through the night and he can hear the rustling of the trees and the waves as they crash onto the shore. The patio doors had been left open overnight and now the strong, cool breeze flutters the curtains and fills the room with the distinct smell of salt. For several minutes he doesn’t move. A forearm over his eyes as he takes in the noises from outside and his wife’s soft, rhythmic breathing as she sleeps beside him. She’d rolled away sometime during the night or early morning hours, resting on her stomach with the comforter pulled up to her chin and her face turned towards him; hair covering her face.  

He rolls onto his side; fingertips gently pushing silky dark tresses away from her forehead and out of her eyes; palm resting against the side of her face as he presses a kiss to her brow. A sigh escapes her lips, followed by an incoherent mumble. And while her eyes never open, her hand reaches out for him, finding his chest and then sliding up to the back of his neck. Tyler studies her. The way the ends of those long, dark lashes just brush the tops of her cheeks, the freckles that dust the bridge of her nose, the slight smile that curves her lips, that thin and barely noticeable scar that runs from the left temple and stops in the middle of her eyebrow. She’s at peace. It had been a long and exhausting night and her mind and body are spent from yet again taking on the role of caregiver, tending to not only him, but their three-week-old as well.

It’s been her way of life ever since they got married. Helping him fight his demons while never having the time or the energy to battle her own. Consistently putting her own issues on the back burner while concentrating on his. Yet she does it. Willingly. Without hesitation. In the same way she’d stayed behind on the Sultana Kamal Bridge despite knowing that no one was coming to help. Sacrificing herself and never asking for anything in return.

He leaves her to sleep; grimacing the moment he swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and his feet hit the floor. It’s the first time in six months he’d been this desperate for something stronger to take the edge off; not opposed to saying to hell with sobriety and cracking open a bottle of whisky or scotch in an attempt to numb the pain. It’s been two and a half years since he’s experienced the level of relief that Oxy used to bring him; that almost euphoric state caused by half a dozen. There were times –if he drank enough with them- that he’d fall into a deep sleep. Managing eight to ten hours and then waking up completely disoriented; unaware of the time of the day or even where the hell he was. And then the pain would quickly return, and he’d turn back to the meds and the booze, needing the aide of both to simply function.

His hands tremble and sweat gathers on his brow and the nape of his neck, mouth dry as his heart hammers wildly in his chest. It’s been a while since he’s been this desperate; where he can taste the booze on his lips and his tongue, and he contemplates how to get his hands on those old vices. The demon is powerful this morning; relentless and brutal. And he actually considers getting dressed and heading into town or even one of the bigger cities to find what his mind and his body hungrily crave.  e stands at the bathroom sink with the cold water running; hands tightly gripping the edge of the porcelain as he looks at himself in the mirror. Disgusted by who...and what...he sees staring back at him. His eyes are dark and angry. Haunted. Jaw tightly and painfully clenched. Nostrils flaring.  And he inhales deeply and exhales slowly and shakily; struggling to contain the overwhelming and powerful need for relief and escape that surges through him.  

Placing his palms flat against the sink, he closes his eyes and tucks his chin into his chest; struggling to regain his control. Attempting to talk himself down off the ledge. Reminding himself of how far he’s come and how much he stands to lose if he falls back into his old habits and way of life. They deserve better than that. His family.  They deserve a husband and a father that isn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict.  He’s worried. Scared. That he can’t handle this alone; that he’s spiralling out of control and completely helpless when it comes to stopping it.

He sticks his hands under the running tap; the frigid temperature causing a sharp and startled intake of breath and effectively snapping him out of crisis. The demon that had been sitting his shoulder and whispering in his ear finally retreats. At least for now. And he splashes water on his face and cups it in his palms, drinking from it before running the remnants through his hair.

Refusing to look back in the mirror before he leaves the room.

******

Tyler heads downstairs and makes himself a coffee –rich, black, extremely strong- and carries it out onto the back patio, passing the empty couch along the way. Kyle never last night: he’d left as soon as he’d brought the twins back and they haven’t heard from him since. But his truck is still parked in the driveway and all his luggage still takes up way too much space. He’s at the neighbor's; no doubt about it. And while one part of Tyler is glad he’s breaking free of Nik’s clutches and the dumpster fire that his life would have become once he married her, another part of him wants to put a foot up his brother in law’s ass. Nik’s going to lose her shit and she’s going wind up back in Australia and on his doorstep and that’s the goddamn thing Tyler needs. She’s already caused six and a half years of heartache and drama. And just when he’d thought was free and clear of it...of her...she somehow found a way to weasel her way back into his life.

He takes a seat on the bottom step of the patio stairs; elbows on his knees and coffee mug clasped tightly in his hands. Inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly; allowing the cool air to fill his still aching and trembling lungs. It’s refreshing. Relaxing. And he can feel the last of the tension slowly leaving his body; the sand beneath his feet grounding him, the sound of the ocean and the smell of salt water all working together to bring about the beginnings of peace. And from behind he can hear the soft clink of metal upon metal; the sway of the tags on Mac’s collar as he slips through the open sliding doors and pads towards him. Insistently nudging Tyler’s arm: a request to lift it and let him snuggle in tight beside him.  He obliges, ruffling fur at the back of Mac’s neck and the top of his head before resting a hand on the dog’s back.  

It’s as if Mac can sense who needs him the most; always finding the kid that doesn’t feel well or is coming down with some sort of illness, going to the closed nursery door and alerting them before Addie even begins to cry, even curling up beside Esme when the postpartum depression hits especially hard and makes it impossible for her to even get out of bed. Even two hours before the start of Addie’s early and difficult start into the world, he had known that something was going on. Refusing to leave Esme’s side, constantly nudging her baby bump with his snout or placing his paw on it; so insistent that she’d snapped at him to stop being annoying and to just leave her alone and Tyler had to lock him outside. Which only resulted in high pitched whining and clawing and chewing the screen door to shreds in a desperate attempt to get back into the house.  

His coffee is gone and the sun has filled the sky when Esme joins him; setting a second steaming much down beside him –along with a tea for herself- before placing her hands on his shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of his head.  While he struggles with outward displays of intimacy and emotions, she seems to excel at them. Those small yet comforting touches when he’s not expecting them, the thoughtful little things that she does and he often takes for granted, even those winks and smiles she’ll sneak his way every once in a while. She craves what Mark had been incapable of giving her; affection and acknowledgment, intimacy that exists in its purest and sincerest of forms outside of sex.  And Tyler tries to reciprocate; to use more than words to let her know just how much he does love and appreciate her. But it’s been difficult, even after all this time.  He knows what he feels and how profoundly he feels it, but getting it out is often an immense struggle.

Her chin rests on the top of his head and her hands linger on his shoulders. Fingers lightly massaging the tense muscles before her palms slide down onto his chest and back up again; lips pressing against his cheek before she sits down beside him.

“Good morning,” she greets and kisses his shoulder, one hand coming to rest on the small of his back as the other picks up her mug of tea.

He leans into her, pressing a shoulder into hers and placing his lips to her temple. “Good morning, baby.”

“Is it okay?” she asks. “That I sit with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking,” she says, and skims her fingertips along his spine. Starting at his tailbone and travelling to the nape of his neck before sliding back again, hand resting just above the waistband of his shorts.

He sips his coffee; its hot and strong and it brings a smile to his face. “Kids still asleep?”

“Every single one. Why does Declan sleep on the floor, though? Explain that one to me.”

“He’s a ginger. Ginger’s do weird shit.”

“Don’t talk about your red headed stepchild like that,” she playfully retorts, harking back to a conversation months ago about Declan’s red hair being the result a ‘fling’ with the cable repair man.

Tyler smirks. “You know what...”

“What? What are you going to do? Nothing. Because you love me too much.”

“Says who?”

“Don’t deny it. You can't hide it from me. I know these things. I figure if you’ve stuck around this long, it must be love.”

“Well it’s definitely not your cooking, so....”

“You smart ass,” she grins, and her hand moves from his back to his side, fingers softly tracing the edge of the tattoo that decorates his rib cage.  

For several minutes neither of them speak; it’s a quiet and peaceful Sunday morning. A far cry from the night before and things that had haunted him and kept him awake.  The nightmare is still fresh in his mind, the images and the sounds on constant replay in his head.  And while his physical pain remains the same, the cravings for Oxy and booze had dwindled. Her mere presence is comforting; the touch of her hand upon his skin, the smell that lingers in her hair, that gentle weight of her knee pressed against his. It’s these moments that he finds himself enjoying the most. Sex...love making...fucking...it’s all amazing. Each and every time. And they have been since their first time together. But it’s times like this when their connection seems stronger.  Along with their comfort levels with one another and the trust they have in each other. Those are the true driving force behind not only their marriage, but the remarkable friendship they share.

***

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esme asks, her cup presses to her lips, eyes fixed on the ocean in the near distance.

“Not really,” Tyler replies.

“Okay,” she says, and presses a kiss to his shoulder; knuckles grazing along his ribs. “You don’t have to. But you can. When you’re ready to.”

“I know,” he smiles, and pecks her lips. “Thank you.”

She gives a smile of her own in return, and he can’t resist pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. Addie looks so much like her; those big, dark eyes and those freckles across the bridge of the nose, even the same ears and lips. So beautiful and so perfect in every possibly way. At least in his eyes.

“Are you still going today?” she inquires, and her hand settles at his waist. “To see your dad?”

He nods.

“Do you want me to come with you? I can track down Kyle and ask him to watch the kids. I know he won’t mind. Maybe it will be better for Millie if we’re both there with her. You know, just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“Just in case things go a little south. That way you’re not trying to deal with your own stuff AND her. She can be a handful and if something happens and you find yourself in crisis...”

“What do you think is going to happen? I’m only going to see my old man.”

“Anxiety? Panic attack? Those are difficult and scary things to see you go through as an adult. Never mind how terrifying it would be for her. She’s five and if you’re alone with her...”

“Ovi said he’d come with me.”

“I think I should be going with you. As your wife. And I want to be there with you. FOR you. Let me do this, okay? Let me be there for you.”

“You already are there for me. You always are. Look at last night.   Look at the nearly seven years.”

“I’m there because I love you, you ferociously stubborn but beautiful man. It’s what we do when we love someone. Look at all the times you’ve done it for me. All those Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners at my mom’s you suffered through; never shying away from sticking up for me when she or my brothers started their shit.  You always had my back. No matter what.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my wife. The mother of my kids. I love you.”

“Exactly. And I love you. So....” she gives his side a slight pinch. “...you get a hold of Ovi and tell him thanks, but no thanks. That your wife is going with you. Maybe he’ll watch the kids if you ask nicely enough. We’re not exactly speaking right now.”

“Well, may it’s time you do. Speak to him.”

“I’m not ready to deal with him. I don’t want to keep hearing his bullshit reasons for doing what he’s doing. And I’m tired of trying to get through to him. He doesn’t get it. Why I’m so worried about you getting dragged back into all of this.”

“He’s young,” Tyler reasons with a shrug. “Stupid. He’s only thinking of himself. And he doesn’t have much to lose.”

“But you have a lot to lose. So do I . So do your kids. And he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the fall out if things go wrong and you don’t come back. And I need you to come back. WE need you to come back.”

“Hey...stop...”  he gently orders, and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into him, lips pressed to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Everything could go right for a change.”

She snorts.

“I could break him before he even gets through training. It could be all too much for him and he decides it’s not worth it to keep going.  I’m going to push him. Hard. I’m going to make his life hell. He’ll regret the day he even thought about bringing me back into this shit.”

“Just don’t kill him,” she requests. “Because I did not go crawling around in that disgusting sewer in Dhaka only for you to end up killing him in the end.”

“I won’t kill him. I promise. Punish him. But not kill him.”

“And if he doesn’t? Crack and give up?”

“Then I pray wherever he goes that he doesn’t completely fuck up. Let’s not talk about it, okay?” He squeezes her shoulder. “We’ll worry about that when and if the time comes. Let’s just get past Millie’s birthday and get the training started and see where things end up. Can we do that? Not talk about it until then?”

She nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “By the way, did you know her daughter talks to herself?”

Esme laughs. “I know. She gives herself a pep talk every morning after she brushes her teeth. She makes me leave the room and then she stands on the counter and talks to herself in the mirror. She totally hypes herself up for the day. You should hear what she says. It’s cute and it’s inspiring and hilarious all at the same time.”

“She said something to me about having an awesome day and no one dulling her sparkle.”

“That’s part of it. That’s always in there. But she adds in new things every day. She reminds me of a football coach psyching his players up with some intense pregame speech. She is SO your daughter.”

“I do NOT talk to myself.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean she is so much like you in every way. She can be so intense and so focused and then just so sweet and cute and...”

“Wait a second...” he frowns. “...are you seriously calling me cute and sweet? What the fuck?”

“Cute might not be the right way to describe you,” Esme admits. “More like ruggedly handsome and phenomenally sexy. But you can be so sweet. Don’t look at me like that,” she laughs, when he gives her a foul look. “It’s true. You CAN be so sweet, and it makes you even more attractive than you already are. I don’t need you to be tough and kick ass all the time. I love the softer side of you. I love all your sides.”

He grins.

“Especially your naked sides,” she adds, giggling when he smirks and leans into her; his mouth covering hers in a long, slow kiss that curls her toes and has her fingers digging into his side. “By the way,” she grins afterwards. “Your naked sides were in fine form last night.”

“So were yours. Along with your hands. And your mouth.”

“And my teeth,” she adds, and pressing two fingers to the bite mark that graces his left trap muscle. “Sorry. That one’s really noticeable.”

“You should see the one on my thigh. That one broke the fucking skin AND drew blood.”

“Excuse you...” she lifts the leg of her pajama shorts, revealing the rather large hickey and bite mark that sits alongside of it. “...you should talk! I don’t want to hear you complaining. One of those CSI people could get a perfect dental impression from that thing. You bite a lot harder than I do.”

Tyler grins. “You like it.”

“That’s beside the point. You’re kinky and a bad influence.”

“I bring out all the best sides of you, baby.”

“And the dirtiest ones,” she says, and it’s her turn to kiss him. Even longer this time. More intense. Just feeling the tip of his tongue press against hers when they hear the sliding door being drawn further across the track behind them.  

“Stop,” Esme orders without looking over her shoulder. “Which one are you?”

“Tanner,” comes the reply.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing,” little arms circle her neck from behind. “Hi mommy,” he chirps, and pecks her cheek.

“Hi,” she turns her face into his and tousles his hair. “Did you sleep good?”

“Yep,” he wraps his arms around her father’s neck. “Hi daddy,” he cheerfully greets, and then settles himself in Tyler’s lap, who in turn runs a palm over his son’s hair; gently forcing the five year old’s head back and pressing his lips to his brow and giving him a wink. “What are you guys doing out here?” he asks.

“Mommy and daddy stuff,” Tyler replies.

“Making babies?”

Esme sighs. “That is not all that mommies and daddies do despite what your sister tells you.”

“Sometimes mommies and daddies just practice making babies,” Tyler says, and his wife stares at him, both brows arched. “Well they do.”

“Is that what you guys were doing?” Tanner inquires and helps himself to a sip of his father’s now lukewarm coffee. “Practicing?”

“We never quite got there,” Tyler admits. “Because someone likes to cock block.”

Tanner frowns. “What does that mean? Cock block?”

“It means your dad needs to watch what he says around you,” Esme responds. “And it means you do not go to school and repeat that, okay? You do not use those words around your teacher or out on the playground or anywhere. And you especially do not say them around TJ or there will be trouble.”

“Don’t worry mommy. I know how to keep my mouth shut,” Tanner assures her.  

“Are you the only one awake?” she asks.

Tanner shakes his head, the longer strands of hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “Addie’ awake. And crying. I came downstairs and got her a bottle, but she didn’t want it. I think she needs a new diaper. I was going to do it, but I don’t really know how yet, so...”

“I’m on it,” his mother says, then finishes the last of her tea and stands up. “Maybe daddy can make breakfast.”

“He can,” Tyler confirms.

“And call Ovi,” she adds, and bends down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to find Kyle.”

“He’s next door getting his rocks off if that helps at all.”

“What does that mean?” Tanner inquires. “Getting your rocks off? That sounds fun.”

“Fun when you’re much, much older,” his mother says. “Right now, you don’t need to know what that means. Want to come and help?” she offers her son a hand. “You can practice changing diapers.”

“I do not want to be the diaper bitch,” Tanner informs her.

Esme arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said.”

“Who taught you that?”

“I can’t tell you. Snitches get stitches.”

“Now I know for sure who told you,” she smirks, and digs her toes into the small of her husband’s back. “Do I have to stop you two from hanging out together?”

“You can’t,” Tanner says. “He’s my dad. We live in the same house.”

“Then you stop being so much like him,” Esme says. “You got that haircut and suddenly you turned into his Mini Me. I’m going to shave that hair off when you’re sleeping.”

“No!” Tanner objects. “This hair cut is bitchin’.”

“I didn’t teach him that,” Tyler informs her.  

“That was Uncle Kyle,” she concludes. “Only Uncle Kyle uses that word in this day and age. You two behave, okay? No more cuss words.  I’m getting tired of the teachers complaining about you kids’ mouths. And you...” she presses her toes into Tyler’s ass. “...please watch what you say. They repeat everything. Remember what happened when you call TJ’s a stupid fat cow at the dinner table? It got back to her. The very next day.”

“I apologized to her. I told her I was sorry. That I was sorry she’s a stupid fat cow.”

“She is,” Tanner says. “A stupid fat cow.”

“Enough,” Esme orders, and tousles his hair. “Stop repeating every bad thing you father says and you...” she slaps Tyler’s shoulder. “...stop saying so many bad things around him. This is the sweet one. The cute one. The one everyone likes. Don’t turn in him into his brother.”

“I could never be that bad,” Tanner scoffs.  

“You just like to extort money out of people,” Tyler says.  

“You fell for it. Mommy said you would.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow as he regards his wife. “You were in on it.”

“It was a social experiment. To see how far his cuteness could get him. He totally fooled you. Don’t hate me because the player got played.”

“Mommy!” TJ hollers, his face appearing in his bedroom window. “Addie’s flipping her shit!”

“This house is hopeless,” she sighs, and heads for the door. “Utterly hopeless.”

“Mommy is way too uptight,” Tanner concludes, as she disappears into the house.

“Just a little,” Tyler agrees.

“But you love her right?”

“Of course, I do. I’m married to her. She’s your mom.”

“Not every mommy and daddy love each other,” Tanner points out.

“No. They don’t. But I love your mom very much. More than I ever thought I could ever love someone. And she gave me you and your brothers and your sisters and that just made me love her even more.”

“I’m going to have two wives when I grow up,” his son declares.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Why not?”

“Do you know how hard it is to keep one happy never mind two?”

“Mommy’s happy.”

“Think she is?”

Tanner nods. “She’s sticks around, doesn’t she?”

“Good point.”

“I think you’re doing a good job. I mean, mommy’s happy and she smiles a lot and you’re the best daddy ever, so...”

“Best ever, huh?” He wraps both arms around his son’s waist and kisses his cheek.  

“Ever,” Tanner affirms. “In the whole world. I hope you’re my daddy forever.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Where am I going?”

“I heard mommy and Uncle Kyle talking. About you going away and that you might not come back.”

Fuck.

“Are you? Going away? You said you wouldn’t go away anymore. When you got back last time. Did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie. I’d never lie to you.”

“Then where are you going? Why is mommy so worried about you leaving?”

“I’m not going anywhere. There’s just some things I need to do. Here at home. And there’s a chance...if they don’t go well...that I might have to leave. Not for long, though. Just for a little bit.”

“But you’ll come back, right?” Tanner turns around to face him; kneeling on his thighs and holding his face in his hands. “If you go away, you’ll come home, yeah?”

“Of course, I will. Nothing can stop me from coming home.”

“Because I’d miss you,” tears sparkle in the five-year old’s eyes. “If you went away and didn’t come back...” his voice cracks. “...I’d miss you so much, daddy.”

“It’s alright, mate,”  he gathers Tanner into his arms; one hand on the back of his head, the other in the middle of his back; feeling the tears that drip onto his shoulder and how that little body trembles against him. “It’s going to be okay,” he promises. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

[whattheraintoldme]

On the first few mornings, he made me coffee. It was too strong, and thick at the bottom, but it read like admiration.

This morning, he does not.

The moon is still visible in the swelling blue of the six am window. The slats of the blinds are broken, so when he’s awake, I’m awake, the sky is awake. The hawk that lives inside the roof is chasing smaller birds, the flap of their wings like water slapping the edge of a boat.

The sting is in my throat again, and the acrid smell of cigarettes that lives in the walls. There are empty vessels everywhere, cooking in the June heat, making me feel sick to my stomach. I turn over on the mattress, under the dirty blanket, and try to smother the drumming in my head.

He’s at the restaurant today and he will be tomorrow, but when he leaves at six am and throws the key next to the tender curve of my skull - I won’t notice until it’s too late. Til I am trapped.

I don’t work, or I barely do, so mostly I drift. The place is full of books, but they’re all mean - except for her’s, which I cannot touch. This is a kingdom, 900 square feet in the sky, and I am a serf.

When he comes home, he will bring a box of warm white wine with him, the flour will be in his fingernails, he’ll be tired, and I don't know anything else about that.

Lately I’ve felt like everyone is a little bit afraid of me, because I am fragile, and they love me. It seems like if they told me the truth they might snap me in half. I feel heavy and burdensome in my body. He is not afraid to hurt me. He fights with me about whatever he can. I’m exhilarated when he does it, when he’s animated because he looks at me. He shoves a hand in my hair and calls me stupid, his little baby. He can’t decide if I am tough enough to take it, or soft like a flake of early snow. If you hold me long enough, I’ll melt. No one is an adult in this palace of sugar. We eat nothing but chips and salsa and pass out drunk in the swelter of July, listening to his favourite songs.

He is so slender. When he sleeps beside me I can see the bones stick out of his back. He has a perfectly round brown dot on the right side of his spine, which I fixate on. I watch his shoulder blades expand and contract, wondering if they will stop tonight. Since we came back together, he always falls asleep before I do, so I wrap my arms around him when I’m ready and hope this tenderness will shepherd him to shore. 

Tonight he tells me that his grandfather is gone. He threw his fragile, jaundiced body down a flight of stairs, all to follow his grandmother. He doesn’t know his father, his mother drank him all the way to term, and she and she and she is gone, so now he is alone, and all that’s left is me. A pallid version of a history of unsafe support. 

His face is smooth and childlike. He looks especially young when he picks up the roll of tape to throw, the glass to smash, or the empty pack to rip in two. He looks petulant. I hate this face of his, but dutifully I pick up the pieces. I cut my hands and teeth this way, or maybe I am ripping holes I will have to fill later.

When I was little this was what came easy to me. I used to dig in the dirt alone, I wandered from adult to adult, looking for a big hand to wrap around my little one. The first thing I was aware I could give away for love was my body. I fought the first time and paid for it. After that I let men come in and out of me without fussing, so even briefly I would matter. I could make the little sounds they liked, I could perform, and yet I saw them not need me. I saw myself reflected in the dirty mirror of his mother's house, telling me he’d call me a January cab, standing outside, used and no longer valuable, my hands turning white in the snow. I was sixteen and already ruined. If I spin hate enough, can I weave it into love?

His apartment is a similar shrine to history. When he was born, he was born inside out, he has the scars to prove it. This is the push and pull of the past I can feel forming a knot in my stomach when he says her name. “Everyone leaves me.” There is a little envelope on his bathroom shelf I don’t dare move. It says I love you. I greedily pretend it is for me.

There’s no endearment left between us but there is dependence, if I leave he will be lonely, he will punish me, and then I’ll be lonely - and loneliness feels like a prison too.

The apartment has two bedrooms. There is no furniture save for a desk, two chairs, and two mattresses we switch back and forth between each night when he wakes up and needs to steady the shakes with something harder. We barely touch each other anymore.

On Tuesdays, he takes me up the street to a restaurant, he buys me a pho and a beer. Everything is covered in black linoleum, the window gazes out at a string of bars, we’re far enough west and you can see it in the grime. I look at him like he is my ticket to salvation, and sip. I think about how I will hide him from the rest of my life, how we can annex ourselves in our little bunker, how no one has to know how he makes the bones under my skin shake like wet leaves. He looks at me like I could be anyone. I do not matter, I am a placeholder on a dance card. I am creative like Amber, I am needy like Megan. I will never be Heather. I caved to the comparison. I wasn’t strong enough to stay myself, and he noticed. The company that misery loves.

Today I am picking at my skin, and my bruises bloom. The sound of violence rattles behind my eyes. I roll from room to room, hanging my head out of the open window, my cigarette burns down to a stub. Boredom is a clandestine agent of chaos, a slow bleed from the belly.

I think I can feel myself dying. Sensation licking across my chest like kerosene. My fingertips tingle every day, and I don’t know where I am unless he’s home. I hate to be here and I hate to leave. I didn’t realize that I had no choice until he couldn’t stand the look of me. Pathetic, dwindling, a dog on a short chain. Evidence that had to be burned to its smallest common denominator, that had to be stamped out, disappeared. Proof of the space inside he couldn’t fill with anything. 

It takes a very short time for a person to be hollowed out. Did you know that? Less time than it takes to fall in love, but not by much. Did they tell you how hate could be couched in love? I knew one day he would hate me. I knew it by how much he hated my doctor, my friends, my body, my health, my happiness, my family, my home - but I didn’t know how much it would hurt.

I didn’t know how little consequence it would have in the wider world. How the earth would still turn while I laid on my back in a filthy apartment alone, with the knowledge that someone I loved could hurt me, could hate me. I didn’t know how much it mattered to me to hold his fragile bones in my arms and promise him forgiveness.

On the 365th night, since he left me, I am in the apartment again - it looks the same, or maybe it is different, maybe it is a composite of the places that have hurt me most. The sensation of carpet on my back. The sound of chattering objects against hardwood, less painful than the sound of indifference, or the sound of loathing. I shouldn’t be there; he wouldn’t want me, his hair was longer, he rolled over, he went to work, he didn’t see me - or he refused to look.

I left the dream-apartment in the dream-morning. I wandered through a party where I knew no one, I was surrounded by strangers who couldn’t see the empty. Scraped out like the place the thing we made together used to be. Raw and hollow. I was drifting again.

Then something shifted. Submerged in the deep, baltic ocean of sleep. The black profound and fathomless, love called out to me in the dark. It said, “all these parts of you are not failing.” The spring through that psychic window was bright. A composite of voices, the women who have always loved me, the man who made me, whistled through this chasm in unison.

That I do not need to accept him, or this, or any unkindness. That this is no longer my story. I hope it is not yours either. Softness is beautiful, and the strength we deserve to cultivate is drawn from it. Loneliness is a better prison, because we can live in it, and we can be alright. We can survive.

[fuctacles]

BakuKiriKami Week Day2

Day 2 - Hanging out / Fighting together / Bakusquad

A/N: I was supposed to have it posted earlier but I’m in a rly bad mood recently, so I don’t know if i’ll manage to do all the prompts :/ I started writing day 5 tho. Fun fact: Michael in the bathroom went on when I started writing this, thats why

Ship: Bakugou/Kaminari/Kirishima from BNHA, duh | Rating: T bc ‘fuck’ | Wordcount: 2310 because i love writing domestic scenes

Read on AO3

The Morning After

The bathroom tiles were cold under his bare feet. He wasn’t sure at which point had he lost his socks but lying in a bathtub seemed like a bigger concern anyway. His back was all sore from the hard surface and weird position he was in.

Near his feet, propped up against the bathroom wall, there was another pair of feet. He looked to the side trying to emerge from the foggy haze of his mind and maybe remember how he got there.

Next to him his buddy Sero was splayed in all the glory of his long, tangled limbs. Between them lied two empty cans of beer. He checked himself for any damage and when didn’t find any, braced himself intending to get up.

He stopped mid-movement when the doors to the bathroom opened. Something cracked unpleasantly  in his neck when he turned around in its direction.

‘Denki, idiot, I’ve been looking for you.’ Bakugou hissed, entering the bathroom. He was usually the one to drink the least but he kept his voice quiet and soft. Kaminari liked to believe it was because he was a caring friend even if he wouldn’t admit it himself. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah’ Kaminari nodded, his voice raspy and unpleasant. He tried clearing his throat. ‘Help me get out of here though?’ He asked but Bakugou was already near him intending to do so anyway. The empty cans clattered against the hard bathtub surface, making Sero stir in his sleep, when Bakugou lifted Kaminari with no effort and put him back on his feet, a supportive hand on the small of his back.

‘Can you open the doors for me?’ he asked softly in case Denki was more hangover than he looked. He wasn’t going to leave any losers in the bathtub so after making sure his boyfriend wasn’t going to kiss the bathroom floor anytime soon he grabbed Sero to haul him up.

Kaminari felt a sudden surge of affection towards his soft spoken, reluctantly caring man. He leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. ‘Sure babe.’

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath but when he was passing by Denki holding the doors for him, he leaned in for another one. Kaminari happily skipped behind him, following him to the living room.

Their couch was unfolded into a spacious bed where Kirishima was snoring with Mina drooling on his t-shirt. Kaminari snickered at the sight while Bakugou dropped Sero next to them with all the delicacy he could muster. Then he dropped a pillow on Kirishima’s face to muffle the snoring, and grabbed Kaminari’s hand to pull him into the kitchen.

He didn’t let go when he asked ‘Coffee?’ He didn’t let go when he was grabbing mugs from the cupboard or turning on the coffee machine. When he set it on and all there was to do was wait for the coffee, he pulled him in to nuzzle into his neck with a sigh. Kaminari winded his arms around him, rubbing circles onto his back. They both were in their clothes from the night before, tired and not caring about changing or cleaning up for now. It was soft and sleepy in their little kitchen, save for the sound of coffee dripping into a pot.

‘Whaddya want for breakfast?’ Katsuki murmured into his skin, tickling his neck. Kaminari hummed in thought.

‘Fries.’

‘It’s not breakfast.’ Bakugou snapped back. Kaminari pouted although he couldn’t see it.

‘Pancakes?’                                                                                      

‘Do we even have any maple syrup left?’

‘If Kiri haven’t drank it.’ They both chuckled.

Katsuki pulled back to kiss him despite his protest. He was quick to melt into the kiss which made Katsuki smile into his mouth. They kissed lazily for a while, until the coffee machine signaled the coffee was ready. Then they pulled away with a quiet smack. Kaminari licked his lips, the motion followed by Katsuki’s gaze.

‘I need coffee’ he explained somewhat apologetic, before giving him a last quick peck and untangling from his embrace.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. With a soft growl he pulled him back by his hips and planted one last slow kiss on his lips. Kaminari chuckled into it. He liked when Katsuki was getting reluctantly affectionate. Especially in the mornings.

Bakugou started making pancakes while Kaminari poured them both coffee. Black and sugary for Katsuki and with cream for himself. He leaned on the counter watching his boyfriend work on their breakfast knowing that if he sits down he may risk dozing off again.

The smell of caffeine slipped from beneath the kitchen doors, emerging further into their apartment, into the living room and around their friends sleeping there. Coffee was a magical thing that always managed to make their redhead boyfriend get up when they couldn’t. This time was no different; when the door opened they revealed a sleepy Kirishima whose face immediately lit up at the sight of his boyfriends. He quietly closed the door behind him, eyeing hungrily the mug in Kaminari’s hand.

‘Hi’ he murmured to him, immediately latching onto his mouth and making Kaminari let out a stifled groan. He held the mug further away so he wouldn’t spill it on them, while his other hand rested on his boyfriend’s hip. Then in a blink of an eye Kirishima was gone and so was his coffee, now clutched between redhead’s greedy hands and being hungrily gulped down.

‘Hey!’ he yelped but Kirishima hid himself on the other side of the table so he couldn’t reach and smiled at him teasingly from there. His soaked in drool t-shirt was gone, leaving his admirable pecs on display. His hair was in utter disarray, sticking up here, flat over there. Kaminari wanted him back between his arms.

‘You two behave, I don’t want them awake before I have enough pancakes for everyone.’ Bakugou growled from his place at the stove. Kirishima took it as his cue to give him some attention. He put the coffee on the table, from where Kaminari snatched it away immediately, and approached his other boyfriend from behind.

‘Good mornin', Blasty’ he murmured into the nape of his neck, looping his strong arms around his stomach, smelling him and the first batch of pancakes he was working on.

‘Mornin’’ He tore a piece of one of them and reached to his shoulder, where Kirishima was quick to catch it. Bakugou leaned into his chest.

‘So good.’ Eijirou sighed, peppering his neck and visible shoulder with little kisses. To his right Kaminari made himself another coffee. Kirishima’s coffee preference was drinking theirs so it was no use to make him his own. When Bakugou reluctantly nudged him out of the way, redhead grabbed his grenade mug to sip a bit of his black coffee. Then he stretched with a sigh, both of his boyfriend’s eyes on him, and announced he needs to shower. ‘Anyone?’ he looked at them playfully. Kaminari slapped him on the hip.

‘We have guests dum-dum.’

‘I’m just joking’ he giggled jumping out of his reach and left the kitchen. Kaminari proceeded to prepare the table and Bakugou kept adding to his pancake tower.

Their banter didn’t go unnoticed as soon after he left Mina entered the kitchen with a yawn and a soft ‘Hello’, Sero tailing after her with pained expression.

‘I smell coffee’ she commented, sniffing the air and eyeing the mug in Kaminari’s hand, who brought it closer to his chest protectively and then moved aside revealing the still half full coffee pot behind him. She cheered and raided the cupboard to find herself a mug.

Meanwhile Sero slumped on a chair almost putting his head in one of the plates. ‘Do you guys have yerba?’

‘Yeah, I’ll make you some just get your damn hair out of my plate.’ Katsuki appeared above him, swatting his head away from the table. He put down a plate full of pancakes. ‘Eat up fuckers and get outta my house.’

‘Me too?’ Kaminari quirked his eyebrow while Mina sat down with her coffee and grabbed a plate to load it with pancakes.

‘It’s your house too, moron.’

‘We’re not going anywhere.’ Mina piped up after swallowing a bite of syrup covered pancakes. (Turned out Kirishima drank only half of the bottle.) ‘We gotta burn the pancake calories in the Just Dance dance off.’

‘Just don’t eat the pancakes you ungrateful fuck.’ Bakugou growled, putting a yerba mate gourd in front of Sero. He thanked him, and took a long sip.

‘Katsuki, your pancakes are too good, we both know this.’ Ashido pointed an accusatory fork at him.

‘It’s just a ploy to make you fat and slow you down.’ Bakugou shrugged.

‘Just take the fucking compliment, dude!’

‘Well, thank you for being so easy to please!’

‘Ugh!’ She threw her hands in the air, while the other two listening to them snickered. Kaminari finally sat down between his friends. That’s when Kirishima decided to join them, hair damp, sweatpants and a tank top thrown on.

‘Did I miss something?’ He asked, settling on the last vacant seat.

‘Just alien face not wanting to admit she wants to crush us in her stupid game.’

‘Babe. Like you’re one to talk.’

‘You sound like you don’t want to eat.’ Bakugou looked at him threateningly. Kirishima put up his hands in defeat then motioned to zip his lips shut.

When Sero was halfway through his yerba he mused out loud. ‘We can’t just go jumping right after breakfast.’

‘What do u suggest?’ Kaminari piped up, hopeful. He wasn’t looking forward to it neither. Especially that Bakugou was getting too intense every time they played Just Dance with Mina. Kaminari was quite good at it himself, while Bakugou always got frustrated he couldn’t beat the game through sheer willpower itself.

‘We could watch a movie?’

Everyone at the table groaned. From their movie watching experience they knew it took at least half an hour to settle on a movie everyone would want to watch.

Bakugou turned off the stove, put the last pancakes on the plate, and motioned Kirishima to make room on his lap.

‘We can just roll a fucking dice, you know.’ He suggested, starting on Kirishima’s half eaten pancake while the redhead leaned on his back, arms around his middle.

‘That’s… actually a good idea?’ Kaminari grinned from in front of them, nudging one of his boyfriend’s legs with his foot. He didn’t know which one. ‘Lemme go grab a dice.’ He announced and left the kitchen to go rummage through their board game boxes.

‘Since when are you such a good mediator, Baku?’ Sero tilted his head, his hair now pulled back in a short ponytail with a hair band borrowed from Kirishima.

‘Since I started dating two dumbasses I guess.’ Bakugou shrugged, feeding Kirishima his own pancake above his arm. It didn’t look comfortable, but it worked.

‘Got it!’ Kaminari came back victorious with a yellow dice.

They took their turns rolling, Sero groaning when he got a one while everyone else let out a sigh of relief. Last time he choose a movie they ended up watching some foreign indie horror about creepy bunny Jesus. Kirishima rolled a five and when nobody beat it he whooped in victory.

‘So, what are we watching?’ Nudged him Mina. Nobody really minded his victory, because Kirishima’s movie taste was more or less like him. Loveable by everyone. He hummed in thought.

‘Uh, would you rather watch a gay movie or an old British comedy?’

‘That’s a tough one.’ Bakugou rolled his eyes.

‘The British one.’

‘Everyone who is against Sero’s choice hand up.’

Kirishima raised Bakugou’s hand for good measure, even though the gay movie would win anyway.

‘Alex Strangelove it is!’ Kirishima cheered. ‘Last time I tried to watch it somebody kept distracting me.’ He narrowed his eyes at said someone. Kaminari shrugged with an innocent smile.

‘Sorry I’m so distracting honey.’

‘Guys don’t be gross.’ Mina made a face of disgust, badly hiding her fond smile.

‘You’re gross.’ Bakugou retorted stuffing his face with pancakes.

‘Yes, yes, now let me go I’m gonna turn on Netflix, maybe check for some chips.’ Kirishima patted his boyfriend’s hips but he didn’t budge.

‘No. You’re comfy.’

‘You can sit on my lap?’ Kaminari offered.

‘You’re bony, no thanks.’ Bakugou squinted at the idea.

‘…I can sit on your lap?’ He tried again. Bakugou was silent for a couple of seconds. Sero was biting back a laugh.

‘You can go, Ei.’

Eijirou laughed, pecking him on the cheek and letting him go. Then he grabbed one of the few pancakes left and went to the living room, from where they heard the signature Netflix sound. Meanwhile Kaminari skipped around the table to settle on Bakugou’s lap with a sigh, leaning onto his broad chest. Bakugou let him for a while, and then nudged him on the side.

‘Turn around I want to eat.’

Kaminari did as he was told, looping his arm around his boyfriend’s neck and leaning on his shoulder, so he could finish his breakfast. He motioned Ashido to hand him his mug and he sipped the remaining coffee.

Ashido and Sero gathered the dishes and started cleaning them up together, Kaminari navigating them through the drawers and cupboards when they didn’t know where to find something or where to put something back. Then Sero found some popcorn and went on to prepare a big bowl of it.

‘Are we watching on the couch or on the floor?’ Kirishima yelled from the living room. The four looked at each other.

‘Floor.’

‘Floor.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m taking the couch, fuck you.’

‘You’ll miss on the cuddles, you know.’ Reminded him Kaminari, pinching Katsuki’s cheek. Mina took their empty dishes to finish cleaning up. Bakugou growled, looping his arms around him.

‘Fine.’

‘Floor!’ Kaminari yelled back.

[my-one-love-is-music]

It Takes Two Ch. 20

Also on AO3!

Tim blinked his eyes open and blinked a second time. The room in front of him was bleary and he struggled to focus. He brought a hand up to his eyes and rubbed at the crusty sleep clinging to the corners, trying to clear it away as he rolled onto his back on the bed.

He felt like he’d barely gotten any sleep and was exhausted, his mind struggling to wake up and start functioning as his body demanded more rest from him. He rolled his head to the side and found Jason’s side of the bed empty.

Tim sighed and pushed himself up. The muscles under his skin pulled uncomfortably like he’d had a strenuous workout the day before. He frowned and flung the covers to the side, getting to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head and twisted his back, trying to loosen up.

He felt some of his muscles stretch and relax, losing the tension that had built while sleeping, but a lingering discomfort settled under his skin. It was almost like the days before someone knew they were going to be sick with a nasty bug. He could feel his body had contracted something and Tim knew he wasn’t prepared for whatever was coming.

He could only hope that it would be delayed a few days to give him time to wrap up as much of this case as possible. They knew where the scientist was. Now they just needed to get to him and get the tech to reverse the process that had connected him and Jason. Once that was done, they would focus on dismantling the rest of the operation by gathering enough evidence to put everyone involved behind bars. The government wouldn’t want any bad press that involved human experimentation. If they got rid of the people who’d compromise them with their activities, that was even better.

Tim walked down the hall to the kitchen and found Jason sitting at the table with a mug in his hands. He could see the edge of a teabag inside.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Tim asked.

He shook his head and took another sip from his mug.

Tim sighed and made a beeline for his coffeepot. He readied the grounds and left it to brew while he retrieved his laptop from the table in the living room.

He grinned when he saw the new files that had been sent to him from Barbara. There were extensive satellite images of the concrete base the van had driven to. The bordering security didn’t seem like much. There wasn’t a visible fence, but that didn’t mean there weren’t sensors. They’d need to do a trace of that when they reached the outskirts.

Patrols were likely to surround the area and the wide spaces surrounding the stone building could prove to be a problem when they needed to get inside. The best course of action would be going in from the top once they scoped everything out. A small jet or plane with a cloaking device would be enough to get them in unseen.

“Look at this,” he said, setting the computer in front of Jason as he grabbed a mug to pour his coffee into.

Jason hummed, and Tim heard the faint click of the keys as he moved through the files. “You want to scope this out tonight?” he asked.

“That’s probably best,” Tim said, taking the seat in front of him. “The intel Babs gave us are good, but we should go check out the place before heading in for infiltration.”

Jason nodded. “Take the bike out to scour the perimeter and then come back later by air?”

Tim nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. As long as they don’t have any security a hundred feet out form the building, we should be able to get in and out without issue.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Tim pulled his computer back to him and started to memorize the layout and the data. He’d get the blueprints in his wrist computer later to reference when they made it to the building.

“Do you think we should worry about the delivery drivers when we make the break-in?” he asked.

Jason shrugged. “Would it do much good?” he asked. “Even if they got the hell out of dodge, the government contacts could track them down. We can only hope they don’t think any of their workers had anything to do with it. And if we get enough people, we won’t have to worry about it.”

Tim nodded. “Okay.”

They drank from their mugs silently, neither of them making a move to get up and make breakfast.

~~

Tim scratched absentmindedly at his shoulder, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around Jason’s stomach as he drove Tim’s bike through the streets of Gotham. The discomfort from that morning was still lingering under his skin. He tried to ignore it, but it was almost like the more he tried not to focus on it, the worse it got.

He’d discreetly taken a couple of aspirin when Jason was out of the room, hoping the meds would do something to ease the discomfort if it was sickness, but there hadn’t been any noticeable change in him.

A scream pierced the air and Tim immediately tightened his hold on Jason as he gunned it, swerving around the corner to the next street. They screeched to a halt in front of an alley where two teenagers with bats had cornered a woman against the wall.

“No, please,” she said, clutching her purse to her chest.

“Surely you have some spare change to help two boys in need,” one of them grinned, tapping the metal bat against the side of his shoe.

Tim didn’t waste a second. He jumped from the back of the bike as Jason put the kickstand down and landed on the shoulders of the second kid, taking him to the ground. Tim rolled with the impact, jumping to his feet as the kid struggled to get up.

The woman shrieked and ran for the sidewalk.

“Hey!” the first boy said, but Jason appeared in front his face, knocking him back a step. He growled and swung his bat, but Jason dodged easily.

The guy Tim was fighting finally got back to his feet and charged at him, bat raised over his head. Tim pulled out his bo and extended it with a flick of his wrist. He slammed the end of it into the kid’s forehead. His head snapped back, and he stumbled, grunting as pain exploded in the front of his skull.

Tim grinned and lazily twirled the bo in his hand, happy that the discomfort under his skin had dulled and wasn’t as noticeable anymore. He readied his bo as the boy straightened and found his balance to rush at him again.

Tim used his extended reach and let it crack against the side of his head, sending him sprawling on the ground. He didn’t make another move, head lolling to the side in a puddle of dirty water. He turned to check on Jason’s progress and watched in slow motion as the bat slipped under Jason’s reach and slammed into Jason’s side.

Tim gasped, pain exploding in his side before expanding throughout his whole body. He hunched over, knees buckling as he slammed into the ground. He coughed, trying to dislodge the heavy ball of anxiety and pain that wrapped around his stomach and threatened to turn it inside out.

His vision wavered, and he fought to suck in deep breaths through his nose. He couldn’t hear anything over his own desperate breaths and the rushing of blood in his ears. He flinched when hands wrapped around his arms, burning the nerves under his skin.

He whimpered and tried to pull away.

“What the hell, Red?” Jason asked, lifting him so their eyes would meet.

Tim tried to pull away, fighting to catch his breath even when every part of him was screaming in agony. His mind clouded with pain. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to stop. He didn’t care how, he just wanted it over.

“Fuck,” Jason cursed in front of him.

Tim fought to wriggle out of his grasp and free himself from the fire under his skin.

“This is Red Hood. I need a pick up for Red Robin immediately. Red Robin is down. Get your asses here now.”

Tim writhed when Jason tightened his grip on his arm and pulled him to his feet. He tried to claw at Jason’s hand and get his fingers to uncurl, but they remained tight. His skin pulsed under the grip in time with his too fast heartbeat.

Jason got an arm under his legs and lifted him from his feet. He whimpered, even the gentle pressure under his back and legs seemingly too much. There was no relief. The all-consuming pain the only thing surrounding him. He couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t survive this.

A screech of tires barely registered over the torrent of pain and his desperate thoughts.

A bleary black form came into view before Tim was being passed into someone else’s arms, causing him to writhe and buck violently. The grip tightened and he practically sobbed, clawing at the person’s chest, his fingers moving uselessly against it.

“Red Robin, calm down,” a deep voice growled above him.

Even through the haze of pain engulfing him, he finally understood that it was Bruce above him. He was moved again, set down on the leather seat of the car as Bruce let him go. The relief was only slight, the urge to claw out of his skin strong and all-consuming.

The interior was cool, the air conditioning biting into his heated skin. The smell of leather and oil was familiar, wrapping around him as the acid ate under his skin and made it difficult to sit still or find comfort.

He was hardly coherent during the drive, fighting not to become drowned by pain and anguish and the never-ending mantra in his head desperately screaming for all of this to stop. He wanted to be put out of his misery. He wanted to be safe and happy. He wanted to feel nothing because everything else was too much.

Tim shifted as the Batmobile decelerated, trying not to feel the burn of fire on his skin. He whimpered when hands grabbed him again and lifted him from the seat, carrying him across to the medical bed they had set up.

Alfred was already rummaging through the supplies, pulling out a needle and a small bottle. He fought to press himself to the opposite side of the bed. The needle would hurt. It would cause him more pain. He didn’t want anymore pain.

“Calm down, Master Timothy,” Alfred said, voice gentle as he stepped closer. “It’s merely something to ease the pain.”

Tim nodded, arm shaking as he extended it across the covers. The logical part of his mind knew it would help to make things better, but the rest of his mind that was laced with so much pain and torment was screaming at him to retreat and find some other way to relieve it.

He closed his eyes as Alfred’s aged fingers wrapped around his arm to keep him steady. He inserted the needle under his skin and Tim bit his lip, biting down hard to keep from crying out or jerking away.

He didn’t notice when the needle was withdrawn, a cool breeze sweeping up his arm and bringing down the heat that had been consuming him. His breathing slowed, muscles relaxing now that the tension was finally allowed to leave his body.

“Are you alright, Master Timothy?” Alfred asked.

He nodded, head rubbing languidly against the sheet underneath him.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, stepping into view.

Tim swallowed, letting out a shaky sigh. “Help me sit up and I’ll explain everything,” he whispered, throat feeling raw even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t screamed.

Alfred helped him sit up and Bruce propped the bed up, giving Tim a pillow to lean back against. He swallowed, fighting to get his thoughts in order.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been…getting worse,” he admitted, voice soft.

“What exactly does that entail?” Bruce asked.

“My pain and emotions have been getting stronger. I’ve taken on more of Jason’s pain and his feelings. And I’m sure the opposite is happening to him where he’s losing feeling. Last night I got hit in the head with the end of a rifle. It didn’t affect Jason at all. And tonight, when Jason was hit with a baseball bat, he didn’t even flinch while I collapsed.”

“Has there been anything else?” Bruce asked.

Tim hesitated for a second, but Bruce crossed his arms.

“This morning when I woke up there was this sense of discomfort lingering under my skin. It wasn’t quite painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable.”

Bruce sighed. “Why didn’t you tell us this was happening?”

Tim frowned, anger sparking in his gut. He sat up and gripped the sheets in his hands. “Maybe because if I had you would’ve locked me away and kept me off the case when I know more about what’s going on than you do.”

Bruce stilled, and Tim’s eyes roved over him. “You’re right. That’s exactly what I would’ve done and it’s not what you deserve. I’m sorry.”

Tim blinked and relaxed, surprised that Bruce actually apologized and admitted he was out of line. “I…thank you.”

“We need to get a strike team on this. I’m calling in the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes.”

“We found a base on the outskirts of Gotham,” Tim explained. “One of their vans drove back there and Oracle found the place had electric and sewage lines that could serve to maintain a large number of people. Jason and I were going to scope things out tonight, but obviously we didn’t get that far.”

Bruce nodded. “Do you have your files?”

Tim undid the latches on his gauntlet and passed it over to Bruce to look through his wrist computer. “Everything you need to know is on there.”

He nodded and strode over to the Computer, plugging a USB cable into Tim’s gauntlet for a file download. Tim watched him work for a minute before he turned his attention to Jason who was standing several feet from his bed and had been quiet since they got to the Cave.

“Jason?” he murmured softly.

Jason’s head jerked, and he looked over at him.

“Are you okay?”

Jason reached up and undid the latches of his helmet, pulling it off and setting it at the foot of the bed. Tim tried not to feel worried about how hollow his eyes looked.

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” he said, sounding empty.

“Yeah, but this is affecting you too.”

“You’re the one who’s being crippled by pain,” Jason muttered. “And I didn’t even notice.”

Tim stared down at his knees. “How could you when your feelings were slowly disappearing?”

“I still should have…I could have…”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it,” Tim said. “The only thing that matters is ending this now.”

“I still should’ve noticed,” Jason muttered.

Tim reached out and caught his hand where Jason had moved next to his bed. “I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I shouldn’t have kept it hidden. Not when I knew what was happening. It’s my fault.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath.

“How about we just agree that it’s Robert Anderson’s fault,” Tim said. “He was the one who did this to us with the help of the government.”

Jason nodded. “Are you going to be okay sitting this one out?”

Tim grimaced. And then shifted when he felt a phantom discomfort sweep over his skin. “I’m going to have to, aren’t I? I’m too much of a liability in the field without painkillers and they won’t last long enough for the duration of the mission. And we don’t need to have a weakness out there for Anderson to exploit.”

Jason nodded. “But I’m sure you’re going to take care of everything on this end.”

Tim grinned. “You better believe it.” He took a breath, smile faltering as heat started to spread over his skin. He fought to keep his smile in place. “I’m going to be the annoying voice in your ear directing your every movement.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Jason said, offering the first smile that Tim had seen in…he wasn’t sure how long. So much had been going on that had kept his attention. No wonder the two of them were falling in different directions.

Tim shifted and swallowed, trying to ignore the discomfort that was returning. It was stronger than it had been when he’d woken up that morning which was worrying since neither him or Jason had been hit with any sort of attack.

“Tim?” Jason asked.

“I don’t…I think…”

“What is it?” he asked. “Alfred?” Jason called for the butler, a hint of desperation sinking into his voice.

“What’s going on?” Alfred asked, kind voice hardly breaking through Tim’s rising panic.

Tim squeezed Jason’s hand, clenching his teeth against the wave of fire spreading through his veins.

“Tim?!” Jason asked, voice conveying more emotion than it had all day.

“Something’s wrong,” he forced out against the wave of pain that clouded his mind. “The pain’s back.”

“That’s not possible,” Alfred said. “The dose of pain killers I gave you…”

Tim shuddered and curled in on himself, trying to keep his breathing steady as everything inside of him seized and clenched. His stomach nearly turned inside out, and the next wave of pain was dizzying and nauseating.

“Get him another dose,” Jason said.

“His system might not be able to-“

“Alfred, please,” Tim said, nearly whimpering in discomfort.

“Okay, okay,” he said, rushing to the cabinet.

Tim had never seen him look so frazzled or frantic. They could usually rely on Alfred to be the rock when things got bad and used his confidence to keep the rest of them calm.

He could only hope things wouldn’t get any worse.

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[jiminiebleus-blog]

En Rose | Oneshot (M)

=> Jungkook likes staring at the girl who always rings into the store to buy pink daisies, but what happens when he runs out and can’t repay you for the money he already put into the broken cash register?

genre: fluff, good amount of angst, smut. flower shop! jungkook x you

warnings: sexual themes, extreme softness. 

word count: 6.1k

date posted: 3/14/18 EST

note: my first story did decently okay for having no following! long fics with the ‘bittersweet life’ theme are not my strongest suit- and considering i haven’t written seriously for an audience in almost two years (making my writing abysmally rusty in that fic), i’m glad at least 200 people took the time to appreciate Adam and Belle a little bit. cheers to more stories! sorry this is another jungkook fic, but i’ve had so much more ideas with him lately ^^

-

-

There’s something absolutely heavenly about the strong scent of jasmines and roses that surround him on the daily. 

Jungkook didn’t know selling flowers inside a store would ever be his dream job, but here he is doing the midnight shift his boss was so desperate to give out when no one else would take it. With the addition of a few extra dollars, he’s giddy that he gets to spend more time admiring the amazing beauty of the place at night. He’s always loved gardens ever since he lived around them as a child, contrary to the boys in school who always ridiculed his passion and liked to pick on his sensitive sense of smell. Now a junior in college friend and three years fresh out of graduation, there’s no one to make him feel so bad about falling in love with floral plants- not like he ever felt ashamed in the first place, though. 

Who can pass up on the offer of taking the job? Beauty and the most wonderful scents in one place, and Jungkook would be foolish as to ignore the ‘Help Wanted’ sign outside the door when he was walking by it on a day out in his city hometown, Busan. As any sane person without a job would do, he went in for an interview and got accepted instantly due to the low employment, the boss soon promoting him to assistant manager upon noticing his utmost dedication. Jungkook decides that it’s one of the best decisions he’s ever made, considering he’s standing behind the counter three months later with a stupid smile still plastered on his face because he’s too busy admiring the flowers that litter the store’s space. 

Though, there is one thing that takes his mind off the awe-striking petals and healthily green stems; something that’s been here for more than a few weeks of working there. 

“Hello?” 

You.

Jungkook watches you push at the glass door and ring the bell, a little dandelion tucked behind your ear as you turn your head toward him and give a small grin. His heart instantly melts at the sight of your graceful face being illuminated by the moonlight shining through the windows, and he sighs lovingly as he props himself on his elbow and buries his palm into his cheek. 

“Oh, you again? Your name’s Jung… kook, right?” You ask, laughing sweetly as he nods. “You’ve been here since forever, you’re the best.” 

You’re cool Jungkook, you’re cool. Act cool.

“Yes, and you’re Y/N!” He beams at you, his voice echoing in the small shop as he blushes pink at the realization of his loudness. “Sorry… I drank a lot of energy drinks to work this shift.” He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. 

You only hum at him while walking yourself through the shop, too infatuated in the pretty bouquets of roses in the glass vases as he excuses himself from behind the counter. He trails behind you, watching you run your fingers softly over the red petals of the floral arrangement. 

“So, looking for anything special Y/N?” 

You shake your head and smile, turning around to look behind him at the closed door. He turns around to see what you’re looking at, and he nods knowingly at your gesture. 

“Pink daisies, like the usual?” He asks and looks at the empty space where they’re supposed to be. “Seems like we ran out on the display. I’ll go in the back.” 

You nod and put the five-dollar bill in his palm, and Jungkook winks playfully at you as he quickly retreats to the register on the counter to count the money and cash it in. He pulls out keys to unlock the door behind him, and he disappears into the large room containing pots of soil and heat lamps. 

“Honeysuckles, daffodils, orchids and…” He stops at the half bloomed flowers, and he sighs at the sight of them. “No full-grown pink daisies, apparently.” 

“Having trouble there?”

Jungkook jumps at the voice and clutches his chest, turning around to look at you as you cock your head and smile at his reaction. “U- uhm yeah, there’s no more pink daisies…” 

He rushes out past you with a shade of red burning on his cheeks, trying to open the cash register back up to recover the bills you handed to him earlier. His breath hitches when punching the ‘open’ button doesn’t work, and he vigorously hits the machine with his fist until it becomes even more broken. Whispering in frustration, Jungkook curses under his breath.

“You’re a little bit rough there, aren’t you?” You say over his shoulder, chuckling as he freezes up at your presence.

“I kind of ran into a little bit of a problem,” he laughs nervously as he turns around, propping his palms on the marble counter and concealing the device. 

You lean over to look at the mashed register behind his arms and smile sweetly when he blushes in embarrassment, watching as his black locks fall over his doe eyes. You decide he looks absolutely beautiful the way he is, his floral-patterned shirt matching perfectly with his blue ripped jeans and supple skin. He’s stunning in a way so complex, yet the way he presents himself is so simple. 

You’re reminded why you keep going to this specific flower shop even when there’s plenty others that are much closer to your college dorms; it’s the boy who stands behind the counter all the time staring at you. You’ve secretly been catching little glances at him too, ever since you walked in one day less than a month ago to check out your favorite flowers- pink daisies. 

“Can’t get my money back, can you?” 

He looks to floor and sighs in disappointment. “Any other flowers you want? I’ll give you five extra of them for compensation?” 

You quickly shake your head, and you watch him frown in rejection as he pouts his lips. He looks disappointed and stares up at you with guilty eyes, but you have a better idea in mind. 

“Then how can I-”

“Go out and have coffee with me across the street?” 

You watch as the boy looks up in quick surprise, unbelieving of what you just said. He gulps, mouth working to put out words that you could understand. 

“Can you… repeat that?” He says quietly, and you chuckle at his bewildered response.

“I said you can repay me, by having coffee with me,” you state boldly, putting your hand on your hip as you did so. “What? Going to reject that offer? Guess I’ll have to talk to your manager in the morning and-” 

Jungkook quickly jumps, shaking his head silly. “No! Don’t do that… I- I love this job,” he murmurs.  

“I know you do. You’re cute, Jungkook.” You grin at him, grabbing his hand that fit perfectly with your own.

His face flushes into a furious red at the compliment and the sudden contact, and it’s not like Jungkook’s never held the hand of another girl or been called cute before- he’s twenty-two years old for god’s sake, but there’s something special about you that doesn’t compare to the flings and girls he’s had back in high school. He’s not usually a blushing mess around just anyone, and he almost despises himself to a point because this would go a lot smoother if he could stop being embarrassed and throw on the brisk and calm facade he usually wore when he was younger.

“Well… I guess you’re cute, too,” he says coolly back. 

You smile at his words, that damned smile that makes the butterflies go crazy in Jungkook’s stomach and his heart feel like it’s travelling a million miles a minute. He can only stand there dumbfounded because he’s hypnotized by your looks, but he’s quickly snapped out of it when you pull gently on his arm.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” You ask, dragging him away from behind the counter. “Let’s go!” 

Jungkook feels his insides flutter at your enthusiasm, and he quickly pulls out the keys in his pocket to lock the shop door on the way outside. You look almost goddess-like from the back, and he can’t help but get caught in a trance again when you pull him across the street as all the cars seize at a red light. Crowds of people surround you two as everyone rushes to cross, but he narrows his vision on you, and only you. 

It isn’t long before you two make it through the clear night skies and into the coffee shop, the scent of robusta and arabica beans filling his senses as you seat him in a booth in the corner. He grabs your wrist when you leave him there, raising his brow. 

“Wait, I’ll pay-”

You push down on his shoulder, “You saying yes is already good enough for the five dollars, now would it be polite to let you pay when I asked you out?”

Not only are you beautiful but you’re also kind, and Jungkook couldn’t ask for a sight more perfect when he watches you walk over and order the drinks. 

“I suppose not, Y/N.”  

You sit down across from him a few moments later, sliding over the plastic cup of caramel macchiato, and you with a mug of cappuccino sprinkled with chocolate powder. You don’t hesitate to press your lips against the cup and take a leisurely sip, and as you sigh with satisfaction Jungkook almost bursts out laughing. 

“You have a little something-” He puts a finger up to his upper lip as you look in confusion, your tongue swiping the wrong spot that was thick with cream as he stands up to reach over to your face. “Here, let me.” 

He rubs his thumb across the soft skin of your philtrum, wiping away the white above your lips. Unknowingly you both catch each other’s eyes while he pulls back after the act, and he gives a shy and awkward smile after he suckles the substance off his finger.

Jungkook is surprised when you slide out of your seat abruptly, taking the spot next to him as you take the white dandelion from behind your ear and hold it in front of both of your faces with two fingers. He stares as you make a circle with your mouth and blow gently at the flower’s delicate and fluffy segments, the pieces flying off and floating like fairies as the flower head and stem is the only remaining thing left of the plant. 

“What’d you wish for?” He asks shakily, gulping because you’re close enough for your bodies to be touching. 

You lift you lips at the question and lean your face closer to his, and Jungkook only watches with wide eyes when you’re so near that he can feel your breath against his. You move your head over to his ear, whispering the words so honey-like and sweet. 

“I wished for a kiss from you.”

You pull away with a coy grin and shoot your eyes away, you yourself embarrassed at your smooth attempt to flirt as he stares down at you. This time the boy isn’t nervous though, and he feels confident to a point as he puts a finger under your chin and pushes up so you both can see eye to eye. He only beams at you, before closing his eyes. 

Jungkook leans in to capture your lips with his, and he doesn’t restrain when he feels you kiss back and gently squeeze his hand that’s resting on your cheek. He tastes the sweetness of the cappuchino coffee as you both sigh in content, and it feels like an eternity of heaven before he pulls away. 

Both of your breaths are heavy, and as you reach your fingers up to run it over your lips in disbelief you wonder whether if it was all real or not. He giggles at your reaction, and he dives in to steal a quick peck on your cheek before you laugh softly along with him. 

“Wish granted.”

.

La vie en rose. 

.

You throw back a shot of gin, feeling the cinnamon flavored liquid give a slight burn as it travels down the expanse of your throat. The music is booming inside of the nightclub of dancing bodies and sloppy kissing, and you and the boy both look at each other under the flashing LED lights. You adjust yourself on the cushion of the stool, seeing him wait for your answer to the question.

“Truth.” You say one of the two options confidently as he smirks at you, and he downs the alcohol as he gets lost in thought. 

You and Jungkook decided that coffee shop dates for three months straight grew old, so you both agreed to have a bit more fun than usual when his college invited both of you on a wild night out. Let’s just say that you’re confident in everything but your handle of liquor, considering that you’ve only managed to swallow down two drinks so far and you’re already feeling a bit tipsy. Jungkook on the other hand, is an absolute monster. He’s drinking shots of whiskey like it’s water, and you secretly enjoy this wild side to him you never knew about as his head bobs along to the bass of the electronic music. A guy who absolutely adores flowers and is sensitive can drink like it’s nothing, and it makes him all the more enticing in your hazy mind. 

You’ve both said ‘dare’ back and forth for who knows how long now, crazy bets to do something embarrassing or scream something toward the crowd of people dancing. So far you’ve ordered him to down the strongest drink there and sing the song that’s playing extremely off tune in a random girl’s ear, for which he both went through with amusingly as you sat back and laughed. Your dares have been rather tame though, his wishes of getting a long kiss on the lips and to piggyback him while he joins the crowd and bounces up and down to the music. You admit the last was fun because you really didn’t have to do anything, but now you’re bored and tired. So without thinking you decide to change up the pace by saying ‘truth.’

“Why…” He starts, tapping his chin in thought. “Why do you like pink daises and dandelions so much?” 

You choke after you start drinking the glass of water, and you fix the white flower that became crooked behind your ear. You hum, mind buzzing as you ponder over the answer as the male stares in confusion. You frown bitterly at the thought, so instead of answering the question you think it’s a better to stumble out of your seat and slam your shot glass down. 

“Let’s have some fun first!” 

You’re pulling him to the dance-floor and practically clinging onto his neck, trying to act more drunk than you actually are to receive your get out of jail free card. Jungkook is persistent though and stops your needless grind on him as he holds your hands that’s gliding down to his chest. 

“Wait, Y/N-” 

You shut him up by slamming your lips against his, and even though he kisses back for a brief moment it doesn’t last long when he pulls away and chuckles nervously. He holds your face in his hands, squeezing your two cheeks as he looks into your eyes softly.

“What are you afraid of telling me?”

Jungkook cocks his head, and you know he’s caught you lying about having too much to drink from the way he’s looking at you through the black strands almost covering his deep-brown orbs. You shake your head and put your hands on his wrists, taking off his gentle grip on your face. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kooks,” you say nonchalant, and he sighs in return. 

“Seriously Y/N…” 

His face drops into earnest disappointment, and he almost looks sad to a point because he knows you’ve been keeping something from him ever since you both started dating. It all started the first few weeks, and up until now you’ve rarely talked about your personal life or anything outside of college and your major in art. You usually completely avoided the subject of talking about yourself all-together, and it’s mostly him who leads off with talking about his day and his annoying older brother who always unexpectedly drops by his dorm room. All the fun and wildness of the night is wiped from his face, and he only stands there in the middle of the dance-floor and watches you bite your lip.  

Out of frustration and irrational decision-making you rush away from the scene, making your way outside of the nightclub as Jungkook follows quickly behind. He’s a little irked now as he grabs your wrist, pulling you around as you groan in annoyance. 

“What the hell’s up with you, Y/N? Always avoiding talking about yourself,” he scoffs at you as you throw his hand off. 

The tears start overflowing in your glossy eyes, because the wound you’ve been desperate enough to keep closed starts to rip open again and you wonder how a fun night out in the city is suddenly a trip down your past. You turn around to hide the water trickling down your cheeks. 

“Do you not want to be with me anymore?” He asks, hurt in his voice as he falters at the thought of it. “Why can’t you just tell me! What’s wrong-” 

“My parents died!”

There’s a silence that comes with the confession.

You bury your face into your hands and cry silently, wiping your tears like the helpless child you once were that day of the terrible car wreckage you stood in front of. You have suppressed the memories of everything associated with that event for a few years now, including your whole childhood that’s been involved with your parents and the struggle you experienced trying to get over it afterward. Most of your youth was lost before and after you were twelve years old, and you cringe when you think about the last time you’ve ever had a friend that you talked to; and not even lovers have you spouted out anything about yourself, until now of course. 

“Y/N… I didn’t know…” 

“My dad’s favorite flower was white dandelions, and my mom’s was pink daises,” you explain without thought, sniffling and turning around. “White dandelion behind my ear every day,” you say tearfully, touching your lobe and pointing, “and pink daisies for when I visit them in the cemetery every week.” 

The boy doesn’t say anything and only pulls you into his arms, his heart breaking at the sight of seeing you cry for the first time. He holds you tight and rocks you around while shushing your muffled sobs, petting your hair and kissing your temples to calm you. You start to quiet down after a few moments, and you’re finally able to form words shakily. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Truth or dare?” You ask, looking up at him while wiping your moist cheeks. 

He decides to humor you and sighs softly, helping you dry your face with his thumbs as he pecks your nose. 

“Dare.” 

You give a small smile. 

“I dare you… to make me feel better.” 

-

It’s a blur on how you end up against Jungkook’s dorm room wall, but you’re happy you’re there nonetheless as you feel the wetness of his lips against your neck. You moan in content as he sucks on a particularly sweet spot along your collarbone, and he’s answering back with hums of his own when you mewl his name. 

“You’re not too drunk for this, right?” 

He watches you shake your head, and almost instantly afterward he’s putting a hand under the hems of your white tank-top and running his fingers along your stomach as he pulls the fabric over your head. His touch is cold against your burning skin, but it only intensifies your pleasure as he continues attacking your neck with kisses and nips that you’re sure will leave marks in the morning. 

Jungkook decides that the sight of you squirming under him is too beautiful to not appreciate, and in a crave to see more he squeezes your clothed breasts and watches you gasp at the sudden act. He’s satisfied with your reaction and rewards you with a passionate kiss on the lips, a guttural groan tumbling from his mouth as he feels you grind against the hardness that’s obvious through his jeans. 

“Fuck, I don’t have condoms,” he breathes harshly at the realization, hitting his forehead against the white wall behind you as he growls in frustration. 

You shake your head. “Birth control,” you say to him after recalling a terrible night with a guy you had a fling with, knowing you could never bear to handle being starved again because of a lack of preparation. You’re thankful now since you don’t have to stop touching the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and you’re secretly happy that you haven’t had sex in awhile because everything else would be meaningless compared to this moment- to him. 

Jungkook only sighs in relief when you pull his face toward yours again, and he melts into the contact as he slides his hands down your half naked body and skillfully unclasps the black bra. He gulps at the sight of your upper half and doesn’t wait to dive in and lick at the erect tips of your breasts as he massages them, hearing you whimper loudly at the sensation.  

“You’re such a fucking turn on,” he pants as he takes off his own shirt, your mouth agape with a soft groan because you’ve never heard such a sweet mouth say something so lewd. 

Jungkook throws the article of clothing in an unknown part of the living room, smirking at the way you lick your lips at the sight of his lean muscles and toned stomach. He flexes slightly to show himself off. 

“Like what you see?”  He coos as he puts a hand under your chin so you can look at him.

“Didn’t know you exercised,” you giggle, and he grins at the adorable way you scrunch your nose- the way you always do when you laugh. 

He sweeps you off your feet and carries you in the direction of his room, and you’re both laughing each other silly when he carries you bridal and gently lays you down on his bed. He engulfs you under his body and grabs the floral-pattern sheets as he pecks you, nuzzling into your neck as he peppers it with gentle sucks. 

“I guess tonight’s the night to learn something about each other.”  

You watch him swiftly get off you while you whine, but he shushes your complaints with a kiss as he gets up to grab at something in the corner of the room. He comes back less than a minute later, a candle-lighter in hand and a triplet of small wax candles. He holds the three objects out. 

“Even though we’re both kind of smashed,” he chuckles, “this has to be special.”

Jungkook gestures you to pick between the three flower scented tapers, and as you look over your options you decide to close your eyes and point at one- Jasmine. 

“Excellent choice, miss,” he smiles, practically chucking the other two because he’s too eager to be on top of you again. 

He flicks the lighter as you both watch the tiny flame appear, and he cautiously puts the fire over the short wick as the candle flares up. As the fire burns the cotton and travels towards the wax, Jungkook puts it on the nightstand and sighs as he breathes in the sweet aroma and climbs back over you. He’s pinning your wrists to the bed, and he bites his lip because you look absolutely astonishing breaking down below him; you’re whining and whimpering, lifting your hips a little to get any type of friction through the fabric of your shorts. 

Deciding that you’re impatient, you put two fingers on his pants’ zipper while he’s too occupied with your neck that’s already marked up and pull down slowly. His breath hitches upon feeling you palm him through the opening you’ve made, and he sighs in pleasure when you stroke him through the cotton briefs.

You don’t know what’s better at this point, having Jeon Jungkook be shirtless and sweating profusely on top of you or seeing him falling apart so suddenly at your touch. You decide it’s too hard to choose, and for a taste to see him more wrecked you dig your hand past the hems of his boxers. You touch the sticky head of his length and swipe your thumb across the slit, and he throws his head back as he falls back to his knees. 

“God that feels good Y/N,” he groans huskily. “Keep going.”

You feel yourself agonizingly wet through your own shorts, but you decide to have a little fun of your own when you pull and throw away his jeans and briefs down in one fell swoop to reveal the large erection that’s been trapped. He’s harder than you expected, and as you sit up to lean down to be face to face with his lubricated head you can’t help but enjoy the way it drips with clear pearls. He tassels your hair with gentleness and draws you closer, watching you look up with an innocent look in your eyes as you kitten-lick a stripe up his leaking slit.  

“That’s so fucking hot,” he says, jumping up with a whimper when you suddenly engulf half of him.

Jungkook doesn’t act shy with his movements as you adjust to the length down your throat, pushing in little by little and watching your lips stretch the farther he goes. He thinks it’s a major turn on, seeing someone he deems so gracious and graceful with their mouth obscenely wrapped around him so voluntarily. Without thought he snaps his hips the rest of the way in, and he watches you gag and squeeze your throat around him when your nose is buried to the hilt. He enjoys the tightening feeling, petting your hair in encouragement. 

Your eyes are tearing up but you push through the urge, pulling back and pushing back forward while twisting your two hands on his slicked erection. You can tell he’s close after a few minutes of repeating the same movements, from the way the head is swelling with a deep red and how his breathing starts to become uneven. You get greedy and try to chase his high, but you’re forcefully pulled back as he leaves your mouth with a wet pop. You pout at him, and he gives a ragged breath as his chest pulses at the sight of saliva dribbling off your lips. 

“God,” he gasps, in complete admiration of how wrecked yet extraordinarily beautiful you still look. “I can’t wait to get inside of you.” 

You whine at his words. “Then what’s stopping you?” 

Jungkook responds by pinning you down and practically ripping your shorts off, a few seams ripping as he desperately tries to pull the black cloth down your ankles. Once he succeeds he groans, teeth clamping down on his soft lips as he stares at the wet spot that’s soaked itself through your underwear. He presses two fingers against the dampness and watches you squirm in pleasure.

“Please,” you plead while pressing your thighs around his hand, for which he responds with a satisfied hum. 

“You’re so adorable, I think I can get used to seeing you beg for me,” he whispers and leans down to peck your cheek.

It isn’t long before he slides the material down your legs afterward, a quick finger already prodding between your folds as he massages your clit. You bite down harshly on your lip when he inserts one finger, and soon after another once you adjust. 

“Don’t hold it in,” he demands, thrusting in his fingers further inside you as you jolt while making a sound between a moan and a surprised yelp. “I want to hear you.” 

You follow his order and start to freely enjoy the digits that are moving inside of your heat, falling apart under his hot touch as he gives a tentative lick up your clit. You’re soon pulling at his black strands until the point you think it could almost be painful, but he only hums into your lower region when you start yanking roughly. 

Jungkook continues his actions until he feels your trembling thighs around his face, and he knows to pull away when your breath starts hitching. Your complaints aren’t unnoticed when you cry out in retaliation, but he only smiles down at you when grabs his hard length and falls on his back on the mattress. He pats his thighs to entice you, and with a cute pout on your face you begrudgingly sit on his leg. 

“What are you doing?” 

He smirks at your innocent question. “Just a little something before I’m inside of you, baby.” 

You don’t get to ask further when he tenses his leg, and suddenly you’re seeing stars when his muscles dig into your folds just the right way. You jerk in surprise at the odd sensation, but you soon get used to it when he takes your hips and moves them back and forth over his muscular thigh. It’s crazy to believe that it feels better than having his fingers inside of you, and before you know it you feel yourself being lifted up by his arms. 

Jungkook positions you over his jutting and veiny length, your knees trembling as he pokes himself into your entrance and slicks his head up with your juices and his own pre-cum. He watches you cautiously as your hands cling onto his strained arms. 

“Are you ready?” He questions, chuckling softly when you nod profusely in impatience. 

“More than I’ll ever be.” 

Jungkook doesn’t wait to hear anything more, and he slides you down onto him in one swift movement of his hips and arms. A string of curses falls past both your lips, and he can’t help but dig his head back into the sheets and moan your name when your heat surrounds his length. You’re crying out in earnest, relieved that he’s finally inside of you because you’re seeing a million stars. 

It doesn’t take long before you build up a steady pace of lifting your hips and dropping back down, a heavenly sound always tumbling out of your lips when you do so. He begins to grow bored of the slow pace though, and when you start to get weaker and weaker with your movements because of the overwhelming euphoria, he takes lead and grabs onto your waist. 

“Hold on,” he warns as you fall down onto his chest, holding onto his shoulders and crying out when he starts snapping up into you. 

Jungkook believes it’s unbelievably breathtaking, the way your breasts bounce against his chest and how you’re biting into his shoulder like you’re holding on for dear life as you chant his name in hoarse and breathy whines. He continues to move your hips and jerk into you until you’re tightening around him, and by then you’re snaking your arms around his neck so hard that he believes any further will be choking him.

You prepare yourself for the waves of pleasure, and to help coax you he reaches down to massage your clit. You feel on fire at the attack on your lower region, but you don’t hesitate to chase your high when he soothes you through your whimpers. It isn’t long before you finally feel the butterflies in your stomach burst free as you go rampant over his body. Your mouth is agape as you orgasm, and even though you barely make a sound the boy can tell you’re riding your high from the way you’re furiously contracting around him. 

Jungkook follows soon after, making beautiful crescents on your hips as he groans deeply and shoots thick white ropes of his cum into your heat. Movements become slower and slower as you both ride the pleasure out, until it finally comes to a halt and he’s pulling out of you. His softened and wet muscle falls against his stomach, and he slides out of you as you’re dripping his seeds onto his skin.

“God you’re so messy,” he confesses. “But so fucking beautiful.”

He takes his length and pushes it back into you to drive the liquid back into your entrance, and a yelp of surprise falls from your mouth when he successfully does so. He smiles once he takes himself out and watches you collapse against his body, shaking due to the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. You look so peaceful against his chest, hair messy with sweat and little mewls of satisfaction vibrating against his skin.

You both interlock hands, and it feels like an eternity of heaven before something interrupts the silence.

“Woah there Kooks!” 

You scream out in embarrassment as you catch the man that’s staring at your exposed skin, hiding into the boy’s neck with an awkward smile as he quickly throws the floral sheets above your pressed bodies.

“Hyung! What the hell?” The younger screams at his older sibling, poking his head through a hole he makes in the cloth. “I thought I told you to stop coming uninvited,” he pouts and shoots daggers into the elder who’s laughing heartily. 

“Seems like my kid brother is growing up!”

Jungkook rushes up to slam the door in his brother’s face and lets out a noise of frustration, clenching his fists and shaking them in the air in silent anger. You watch him from under the sheet cloth, seeing him approach and climb to his spot back next to you with an apologetic smile.

“Have fun Kooks~” a voice chimes behind the door. 

You laugh when he swears at the male in response. “Your family is a bit interesting, huh?” 

"My parents are completely normal; Taehyung on the other hand--” he groans and slicks his hair back. “Don’t even get me started on him.” 

You giggle at his scrunched face, but suddenly you’re reminded of tonight’s previous events that lead up for this moment to even happen; you were too afraid to tell him about your own family- scratch that- your whole past. Your face contorts in guilt at the fact, and Jungkook notices how you’re feeling from the way your eyes drop and your lips start quivering.

“Something wrong, baby?” 

“You know, Jungkook,” you start. “I...”

You’re about to apologize, but then you look into his dark chocolate eyes to see that he’s staring back at you patiently. There’s not a hint of anger or grudge for your lack of honesty to him for the past few months, almost as if he completely understands even though he should be furious. There’s a reason why so many lovers and friends have cut you off, and that’s simply because you’ve seized to open your heart up to anybody after your parents’ tragic accident. 

Jeon Jungkook is the first person that waited; he’s the first person that’s continued going on dates with you even though you knew that he knew you’ve kept parts of yourself away from him. Ever since the first day you walked into the flower shop with a dandelion behind your ear and a bouquet of pink daisies in your hands, he’s always waited for you. And as you stare into the sea that is his eyes now, you can see nothing but love and affection- and patience.

You realize that Jungkook is never going to give up on you so easily like everyone else, and with that thought in mind you lean in to dig your head into his chest and nuzzle into his skin. 

Maybe opening up isn’t so bad after all.

“I love you,” you finally say. 

The boy grins in pleasant surprise at your confession because it’s the first time he’s hearing the phrase fall from your lips. He laughs like a little kid because he’s too happy that you said it, and as he does he grabs you in his arms and rolls you under him so that he can press his forehead against yours. He almost tastes the cappuccino coffee lingering on your lips from the first time you two kissed as he leans down, and he hopes he never forgets the feeling when he pulls away to look into your star-filled eyes that twinkle. 

Jungkook decides that he hadn’t seen the most beautiful flower, until he met you. 

“And I love you, Y/N.” 

[rickstexaschick]

Rick’s Texas Chick: Chapter 19

Originally published on AO3 at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183545/chapters/35527206#workskin

After she and Harley left the pub together, Rick portalled back, directly into her house.  Even though it was his idea, it had taken more effort than he’d expected to let her leave with Harley.  Watching them disappear into the night gave him a hollow feeling.  Somehow going back to her empty house was better than being alone in his room.

He poured himself a large tumbler full of whiskey, then taking the bottle he went and sat on the couch in the dark and turned on the tv. Her black cat, her favorite, jumped up next to him, purring and rubbing itself against Rick’s hand where it rested on his leg holding the whiskey.  This one seemed to like him more than the other cats, had kind of adopted him pretty much from the beginning.  It always showed up when he was over.

He moved the glass to his other hand, then absentmindedly began stroking the cat lightly.  Purring loudly, it curled up next to him and went to sleep.  Rick changed the channel to some stupid crap and muted the tv, then sat there and slowly got drunk, petting the cat.  Tried not to think about her in Harley’s arms and failing.  He didn’t think he could stand this, wondered why he had even thought this was a good plan.  

If she wasn’t going to talk to him about the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband, then why the hell would she tell a total stranger?

Because Harley wasn’t, really.  That was the whole point.

Sighing, he drained his whiskey and put the empty glass down on the coffee table with a clunk, making the cat jump off the couch with a startled hiss.  He grabbed the whiskey bottle by the neck and climbed the stairs to her room.  He peeled off his clothes in the bathroom then took the bottle with him into the shower and drank deeply while hot water cascaded down his shoulders and back.  He set the bottle on the shelf and reached for her bar of soap, then slowly began to lather himself.  The rich citrus scent filled the air, filling his brain with images of her, memories of making love to her, fucking her.  

He wrapped his fingers around his huge cock and stroked himself slowly.  He played through his memories like a film.  He watched each one while running his hand up and down, pulling his palm across his sensitive head over and over.  Rubbing along the sensitive frenulum with his thumb, he reached down with his other hand and cupped his balls, fondling them.  His mind took him to tonight, watching her with Harley, and he began to stroke faster, more urgently.  His moans filled the shower, echoing off the tiles and he braced himself against the wall with one hand.  His head hung down in concentration as his other hand pumped faster, almost painfully so.  He imagined the two of them together, could hear her cries as she came.  His hips jerked and he came hard with a hoarse, angry shout.

“FUCK!”  His cum shot out in long, ropey spurts, hitting the tile wall.  He continued to stroke, pumping himself dry.  Shaking, head down, he held himself up against the wall with both hands and watched bleary eyed as his cum slowly slid down the tile.  The water grew cold as it continued striking his back and ass and he turned around and slapped it off.  Drunk and still dripping, he collapsed naked in her bed and pulled her pillow up against his face.  He took a deep breath, inhaling her familiar scent, then fell asleep, snoring deeply.  

Her black cat jumped up onto the bed and curled up next to him silently, a sentry in the night.

******

Before sun-up the next morning she awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of dogs barking, and her eyes popped open.  Suddenly she remembered where she was, and with whom, and she stiffened, half expecting her Rick to come bursting angrily into the room.  Strong arms tightened protectively around her as Harley held her against his chest.

Sleepily, he murmured into her ear, “S’just the paper, honey...Not Rick…”  His warm breath tickled and she shivered, snuggling closer to him for warmth.

He reached for the down comforter and retrieved it from where it had slithered half off her side of the bed, pulling it back up over them.  Trailing his hand under the covers, he caressed her breasts, feeling her nipples tightening, before holding her comfortably across her stomach.  He slid one long leg up between both of hers until his muscular thigh pressed against her pussy, still wet with his cum and her juices, then gently bumped her with it a few times.

“Go back t’sleep or I’ll fuck you s’more,” he whispered gruffly in her ear.

She giggled, then she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep in his arms.

*******

Several hours later, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and frying bacon drifted into his subconsciousness.  Stirring, he rolled over and opened his eyes.  The bedroom was fully lit with sunshine.  It was well past the time he normally woke up.  Sighing, he sat up and dropped his legs over the side of the bed and sat with his feet resting on the floor.  The day would’ve probably been a wash as far as him getting any work done, anyway.  Yawning loudly, he rubbed his eyes then stood up, pulling on his jeans.  He went and took a leak and brushed his teeth.  He felt pleasantly tired from a night of lots of fucking and little sleep.  Barefoot and shirtless, with his jeans zipped but unbuttoned, he wandered out into the kitchen to see what she was up to.  Apart from making breakfast.

She was standing in front of the cabinet by the stove, reaching high above her head and trying unsuccessfully to get to a large bowl on an upper shelf.  Her back was to him and she was wearing his shirt from the night before, her black lace panties exposed by the raised hem of the shirt.

Walking silently up behind her, he slapped her lightly on the ass then gently squeezed it, simultaneously reaching over her head to get the bowl and hand it down to her.  She yelled in surprise, nearly dropping the bowl.

“Sucks being short, don’t it?”  He grinned down at her.  He helped himself to a piece of fried bacon from a plateful on the back of the stove and munched into it before leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.

“Hmmm.  Mornin’.”  He went to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.

“I tried to find the sugar---” she began.

“Don’t need it.”

“---or some milk----”

“Don’t want any.”

“---so, then I found some arsenic and used that instead,” she finished, sounding pleased with herself.

He choked mid-sip, looking sharply at her and coughing.  She winked at him.  “Next time let me finish my sentence.”

“Damn, woman,” he said, still coughing.  “Y-Y-You like to start the day off hard on a man, don’t you?  Come on, I-I’m old.  Don’t do me like that.”  He went and collapsed into a kitchen chair, still coughing and laughing.  “Come over here, doll,” he finally managed.

“Hey, I’m the one who just got snuck up on and hit on the ass, and you’re talking about me giving you a hard start to your day?”  She walked over and he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her soundly on the lips.  “How do you like your eggs?” she asked him.

“However you want to make them, doll,” he answered promptly, grinning at her.

-----

They’d finished breakfast and were lying on opposite ends of the couch, sharing the light blanket across their legs.  He was reading the paper and she was dozing with one arm bent across her face covering eyes, her lips parted.  With one foot on the ground, the other leg he had stretched out on the couch under the blanket and was absentmindedly rubbing his foot lightly against her side, gently squeezing her with his toes.  She mumbled in her sleep and shifted slightly, her muscles tensing as echoes of a disturbing dream mirrored on her face.  Quietly, he set the paper down and reached under the blanket and began lightly rubbing her foot, watching her while she slept.  She relaxed, sighing.

Last night was not as spontaneous as she thought.  It had culminated after several weeks of discussion, if no real planning on his own part.  Her Rick had approached him, met him several times at the pub, like they usually did.  They were old friends, to be sure, had fucked around together, including Polo and with some other Ricks, but they’d never really shared a woman.  This is the first time Rick had ever actually proposed something like this to him.

Well, it was the first time Rick, any of them, had seen her in their lives.  When she’d told Rick that her parents had chosen to have her instead of following the doctor’s advice and getting an abortion, and that she’d unexpectedly been born without any medical or mental problems… Well, like Rick had told Harley, it explained so much.  Because, otherwise, she just didn’t seem to exist anywhere else, not in this condition, at least.

However, Rick still hadn’t told her that yet; didn’t want her to know yet.  He had only recently introduced her to portalling.  And this was her first time to be around other Ricks.  She wasn’t aware that there were other dimensions where she did, or as the case usually was, didn’t exist.  No, better to not let her know about any of that, yet.

Instead, Rick was still trying to get her to face what had happened to her during her marriage with the other Rick.  Ricardo.  He wanted her to get it out, talk about it, instead of carrying it around locked inside forever.  He could see how it was tearing her apart inside.  She had nightmares, tossing and turning in her sleep, mumbling, crying out, saying her ex’s name, sweating the sheets up with fear.  Rick would hold her, soothing her with soft kisses until the dream passed and she relaxed in his arms.  She never mentioned the dreams, apparently didn’t even realize she was having them.  

But he could never get her to tell him the things Ricardo had done to her that still haunted her.  Even after that evening when she lay beneath him on the couch and spilled most of her guts, this other part of her history she still stubbornly kept to herself.  He’d wondered if it was an unconscious part of the psychological trauma or was she too afraid, or ashamed, to talk about it?  The few times Rick had asked her about the scars on her back and elsewhere she’d stiffened up, literally, saying, “He did that,” but refused to elaborate.

And to top it off, Rick himself had screwed up.  He’d leave, take off and do his own thing without telling anyone, like always.  But she didn’t know him well enough, didn’t know that this was how he was, who he was, that he always came back, would come back to her.  She had no idea, of course, that he’d gone looking for her in other dimensions.  Wondering why he hadn’t heard of her with any other Ricks.

After she told him about her ex he left to go looking for the asshole. Tracked him down, then sent him portalling back to his own dimension with no way to leave it, get back to her.  He could see that after each “disappearance” she’d withdrawn from him a little bit more.  Still happy for his company at her place, having incrediblly hot sex.  But he didn’t know if he could ever regain her full trust again to talk to him, like she had before.

Then, when she mentioned the idea of multiple partners, literally saying she wanted multiple Ricks without even realizing at the time that it was possible…  It presented a solution for him.  For them both.

Rick knew her, understood her better than she did herself.  He could read her like a book, from the moment they met.  He knew that she would be attracted to Harley's easy-going nature.  Rick was confident that she would accept him, maybe even trust him enough to talk about what happened.  Thus, he’d reached out to Harley with a proposal.  Meet for drinks, a few rounds of pool.  If she was interested in him, then Harley was welcome to take her out and show her a good time.  If it led to anything more, then he had Rick’s blessing, such as it was, as difficult as that was to do.  So, Harley had agreed to meet her, sight unseen, a blind date as it were.

Most Ricks were notorious lotharios, and if that weren’t bad enough, since most of them were assholes, they would screw each other’s sister out of spite if they only had one, or better yet their mother, if she were still alive.  Rick reaching out to Harley over this had shown uncharacteristic trust for a Rick, and faith in their friendship and in each other’s character.  One never knew where something like this might lead, even with the best of intentions.

But Rick had forgotten about all the hearts involved.  Forgot that he still had one himself.

Now, here Harley was, stretched out on the couch with Rick’s woman after an incredible night of fucking.  And it still wasn’t over yet, unless she decided it was.

tbc

[drizzitwrites]

WIP Week Day 2

I’m still working on the same thing I worked on yesterday and not following the themes because this story isn’t supposed to be very long and I honestly just want to get it done. Plus, today’s theme is your “AU WIP” and I haven’t actually started writing my AU yet (I’m using this as a warm up exercise, as it were) and the only other WIP I have that technically qualifies as an “AU” is only AU because it was based around the ‘Vincent stays at Spurs in 2017/2018′ and that’s honestly still too sad for me to deal with even though I do think it could be a pretty great story.

Anyway! I managed like 1300 words today (and still haven’t finished this scene...heyo!) even though I only wrote for an hour because I had to waste most of my evening doing boring adult things like showering, feeding myself, printing tax documents, and ordering garden plants for the alleged spring that we’ll be having at some point in time.

Straight up continues from where we left off yesterday although the writing is EVEN LESS EDITED since this is all 100% new content and doesn’t have previously written material mixed in. So....I guess this is straight from my brain into your eyeballs. Sorry for that. No one should read my fic in this state. NO ONE.

Also sorry that it very abruptly stops in the middle of a thing. I don’t usually do that, but my brain is too tired to continue tonight. I’m pulling a Hemingway and stopping just as I get to the interesting bit so I’ll be excited to pick it up again tomorrow (or something like that).

Fic: Maybe It Will All Come Back to Me

Fandom: Football RPF -- Tottenham Hotspur

Pairing: Christian Eriksen x Vincent Janssen

Rated: General Audiences

When the movers had dropped the sofa off at Chris’s house the following evening it had been like rubbing citrus and salt straight on a fresh wound. Chris had thrown himself body and mind fully into training, all his focus on the ball at his feet and the grass beneath his boots so he didn’t have to think about Vincent alone on an airplane flying three thousand kilometres into the unknown while Chris stayed here in London training with his teammates as though nothing had changed; still half expecting to hear Vincent’s laugh ringing across the pitch or to catch Vincent’s eye and watch Vincent’s face flash into a dazzling smile, dimples creasing his cheeks as he grinned over at Chris.

All day, everything moved too quickly around him and Chris found himself always a step too slow. Despite his attempts to clear his mind and focus on his training, his thoughts kept drifting back to the night before--Vincent’s hands all over him, his own hands pressing soft kisses against every curve of Vincent’s body, both of them once again taking as long as possible together, trying to memorise every taste and texture and smell of the other.

He’d dragged himself home after training feeling drained and ill and empty inside, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his bed and not leave it for the next week. Instead, he’d just managed to change out of the jeans and t-shirt he’d worn home from training when his doorbell chimed.

Chris groaned, directed the movers up the stairs and into his spare room, stopping to kick aside some of the boxes and plastic bins to allow them to slide the sofa, now wrapped in a heavy black dust cover, into the room. They’d had to leave it at an odd angle, one corner against the wall, the other protruding out into the centre of the room, but Chris had just shut the door behind him and told himself he’d think about it later. He probably didn’t need to look at that room for the next year anyway.

A week. He’d lasted a week before his resolve had crumbled and he’d all but made the sofa into his bed, much to the dismay of his friends.

Toby constantly chastising him about it: “It’s not going to do your joints any favours, Christiaan.”; “What’s the point of having a custom mattress if you’re just going to sleep wherever?”. He’d all but moved himself into Chris’s house, appearing in the doorway the moment Chris’s feet hit the floorboards as though he’d been standing guard outside waiting to press Chris back down into his bed.

Chris had tried to argue with him, at first telling him it wouldn’t do any good for neither of them to get any sleep, then trying to explain that at least on the sofa he was getting some sleep which is better than he was managing in his bed, but Toby wouldn’t hear any of it, instead bringing Chris glasses of water and insisting that he lay back down and close his eyes as though Chris were a child who’d woken in the night from a bad dream. Chris was pretty sure he would have considered locking Chris in his bedroom if he’d had the option.

Eventually, Chris’s bed hadn’t felt so strange and foreign and empty, and the only time he’d ever found himself on the sofa was the occasional lazy Sunday afternoon spent reading and dozing in the late afternoon sunlight.

He’d done well to get back to what he remembered as normality--life as he’d lived it before Vincent, as it were. Nights out with his teammates when he could, although usually they were all so drained after training that none of them wanted to do anything besides relax at home. Which, for Chris, more often than not these days, meant wandering around his house trying to find something to keep himself occupied.

Then, Vincent had turned up on his doorstep a month ago, a solid, warm, comforting presence surrounding Chris on all sides once more, and Chris could hardly believe he’d forgotten how life could be with Vincent at his side. He’d only stayed for a week, but the instant his taxi had pulled away Chris had felt his absence as keenly as if someone had banged a hole right through the centre of his house.

Thankfully, he’d been able to spend the next night in a hotel room, convincing himself that he didn’t miss Vincent and that he’d learned how to live life on his own again and would fall back into his old routine, but even now he was back to sleeping on the sofa at least as often as he slept in his bed.

He stifled another yawn, his eyelids already heavy despite the early hour--the last light of the sun still casting the sky in bright silver beneath the heavy clouds. He’d better make himself some coffee if he was going to make it through his evening with Toby. He’d be able to pass his fatigue off as the lingering remnants of illness if he needed to, but he’d been well enough last night that Toby would get suspicious if Chris started falling asleep on the sofa before eight in the evening.

The last thing he needed was his friends finding out he wasn’t sleeping well again. For one thing, he hated proving Toby right--something he’d had to do far too often over the past year of his life. For another, his friends all had their own families and their own lives to be going on with, and Chris hated the feeling that he was pulling them away just because he couldn’t figure his own life out. He’d get over it. He just needed some time.

Chris pulled open the cupboard and reached for the bag of coffee he always stashed within easy reach, but a second, smaller bag caught his eye and he paused mid-motion. An unassuming brown paper bag, unmarked and unlabeled, but no label was needed. Chris grabbed for that bag instead, then fished around in one of his drawers until his hand closed around the handle of a small copper pot. One of the gifts Vincent had brought with him from Istanbul--a Turkish coffee pot and a small bag of finely ground coffee from his favourite café near his apartment.

The bag was nearly empty now, Chris noted. He’d have to ask Vincent to send more the next time they spoke. Not that Chris drank the strong, bitter coffee often, much preferring his lighter roast from the Scandinavian cafe he frequented on days off. Chris had only made the coffee himself a handful of times, usually on cold, grey London mornings when he’d pried himself off the sofa, eyes red and burning with sleeplessness, wishing maybe he’d once again turn the corner and find Vincent lounging in his living room, bathed in the early light of morning.

He fished around in his hoodie pocket for his phone and propped it up on the kitchen island, carefully balancing it against his now empty water glass before he turned the screen on and scrolled through his files until he found what he was looking for.

He pressed play on the video and the quiet of the house was broken by Vincent’s shy laugh, followed by his now familiar Brabantian Dutch with its soft syllables.

‘Christiaan you’re not really taking a video of this, are you?’

Chris’s own voice answered in slightly louder Dutch from behind the camera, ‘Of course. Otherwise how will I use this when you’re gone?’

Another laugh and a shake of Vincent’s head. ‘It’s not as if it’s that difficult. Besides, I’ve already shown you twice.’

‘Show me again.’ Chris’s voice soft, and he could hear the hint of a smile around the edges. He’d never realised how much his tone changed when he spoke with Vincent until he’d played back this video on repeat, laying on his stomach on the sofa in the quiet dark of a London night a week after Vincent had returned home. Softer, sweeter, with a playful lilt he knew wasn’t there in interviews or his Spurs TV slots or even as he slid in beside Mousa or Jan or Toby for one of their frequent dinner and board game nights.

[belladonnaandulriched]

the artist | chapter twenty-nine

Chris still hadn't returned to the speakeasy by the time Lars, Joey, and I turned in for the night. The entire street had fallen dark and stayed dark by the time I figured it would be best to call it a night before one of us fell asleep standing up.

Lars meanwhile wasn't kidding when he said he would bar the front door closed with something sturdy, a la the support beam to the building: I actually watched him drag a chair and one of the bar stools towards the door to block it shut. He also took a broom and lodged it in between the handle and the door so no one would be able to open it.

Once the door was shuttered closed, we switched off the lights and headed back into the dark room to crawl under the covers of the sleeping bags. Even though I was nestled down between the two of them, I couldn't help but miss sleeping in my own bed and also snuggling up to Chris. I missed his touch right there next to me.

Lars was kind enough to cover me with his blanket, and Joey snuggled up close to me, but I missed it all, though. Add to that, he was at the hospital with Stone and Dave.

The pandemic had made me claustrophobic in a retroactive manner: I would see photos of crowded city busses or jammed crosswalks in cities like Seattle and New York City and my skin would crawl at the thought of just one person there with the virus. Even when things began improving, I would go to the supermarket with my mom and see a person without a mask covering their face and I would be reticent to approach them to even so much as take a can of beans off of the shelf.

Add to this, there were people like my assaulter in junction with all of the unrest across the country. Every man for himself, as I heard someone say at one point.

We all had gone back to basics almost overnight, and to the point everyone wanted a slice of it all no matter what the cost.

I had my fears, and such that I could hardly fall asleep, even with these two boys on either side of me. I closed my eyes and I thought about the times I had difficulty with my art, from the lack of support to being able to get some kind of clout with it even during the height of the pandemic. I saw from the very beginning that being an artist was hard, and that it would take hell or high water to fight our way to the top. But after the potential theft earlier to my own assaulter to my own father discouraging it even with everything at a standstill, I started to wonder if it was something I truly wanted for myself.

I started to wonder if it was even worth it, if all I was going to receive in return was a series of doses of screwed over ad infinitum.

I finally managed to fall asleep as I buried my face in Joey's chest. It was something warm and something soft, something that I missed during the thick of it all. But no sooner had I fallen asleep when Lars woke us up at that ungodly hour to go out walking.

Joey was quick to get up but I lay there for a few minutes and watched them both get dressed. As Lars laced up his shoes in the darkness, I finally hoisted myself onto my forearms.

“I dunno—it's kind of a long walk, though,” I said to them.

“It ain't that long,” Joey assured me as he put on his mask, “it's like a cuppa coffee, really.”

“A cup of Joey,” I corrected him.

“A cuppa Joey, exactly!”

“Are we still getting breakfast?” I reminded Lars.

“Hopefully,” he assured me. “That is if no one pulls us over on the street.”

“Why would someone pull us over?” I asked him.

“Neither of us have money and we haven't showered in a few days, either.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip at that. It was risky, but then again, Stone could have the virus and Dave and Chris still hadn't returned to the speakeasy. I rolled out from underneath the sleeping bag and Lars' blanket, and reached for my shoes. I slipped them on and stood up before Joey: even in the dim morning light filtering through the little window behind me, I could make out the sly look in those big dark eyes. He kept his eyes on me as I put on my own mask: tethers over the backs of my ears, right over my nose and my mouth. The mask protected my face and my lungs and it allowed me to look into his eyes. He nodded towards the door for me, and I followed him out to the dark hallway; Lars lingered right behind me as we made our way to the door out to the porch. Given Joey was the one with the longer legs out of the three of us, he held onto the rail and slung his legs over first, but he managed to help both Lars and me over, too.

He held my hand and he put his other hand on my side as I climbed over the railing. In the darkness, I noticed Lars keeping close to me to ensure I didn't fall ass over teakettle onto the grass beneath us.

The suffocation I felt looking at crowded spaces aside, the gentle touch of another person's hand was another thing I craved to see during the height of the pandemic, the protests, the fires, and everything just falling sideways. If nothing, that made me wonder why I even so much as bothered with the art and even the survival of it all.

The deserted streets were illuminated by nothing more than the golden street lights and the bluish twilight from the sunrise at our side. Nothing to see here, just a walk about a neighborhood at five o'clock in the morning towards a freeway overpass. We got about a mile away from the speakeasy, and right underneath the overpass, when Lars told Joey and me to stop right in our tracks so as to catch his breath.

“We really need breakfast,” he told us, panting.

“Yeah, I'll say,” Joey added, “we got about five blocks from the place and my stomach started makin' weird noises at me.”

“Well, why didn't you say something?” I asked him.

“Hahlly, you saw those neighborhoods—like nuthin' was open.”

“Well, we're here at the overpass and it's about another mile or so before we get to a cafe or something.”

“Come to think—who knows if one will be open,” Lars remarked.

“And Chris'll come back to the speakeasy and be like 'why is the door jammed shut?'” I followed along. “Shit. We did not think this through, didn't we?”

“Well, to be fair, it did get us out of there,” Joey pointed out.

“If Chris didn't return to the speakeasy all through the night, who knows when he will be back there during the day,” said Lars.

“He might, though!” I insisted, and then I stopped myself.

“What's the matter?” Lars asked.

“The garden,” I muttered.

“What about it?”

“Dave told me he and Stone would be screwed if someone from the outside world found out about it, because of the whole thing from the pandemic. It has to be essential or they could get into a heap of trouble.”

“It is essential, though,” Joey joined in, and then he stopped himself.

“You're telling me that needs to be protected now?” Lars raised his eyebrows at me.

“That's exactly what's she sayin', dude,” Joey pointed out.

“So, change of plans,” I declared. “We go to the garden to make sure Dave and Chris aren't there. If they aren't, we stay there until they get there.”

“Okay, how do we get there?” Lars asked me, to which I fetched up a sigh. It was already hard to walk a full mile from the speakeasy without having eaten or drank anything—I couldn't imagine going all the way down to the garden on foot, either. I peered up the street, beyond the overpass to the sight of a rather large bicycle leaned against the wall on our side of the street: even from a distance, I could make out the sight of two seats on top of the body. I returned to Joey; I glanced down at his lanky but strong looking legs.

“Joey, would be willing to ride a bike for Lars and me?” I asked him.

“Huh?”

I pointed up the sidewalk to the bicycle.

“Hahlly, I ain't stealin' some poor schlub's bike for nuthin',” he scoffed.

“It'll beat walking the whole way down there,” I told him.

“Well, as long as we find sump'n to eat—I never did too well on an empty stomach when I played hockey.”

The three of us ambled down the sidewalk; as we came within sight of it, I noticed the thick body at the back. It was a trailer containing a bunch of empty flower pots and hats. It was as if Dave and Stone had both here before us, like they knew we were coming. Using the dim light of the streetlight, Joey, Lars, and I tried on the hats so we could have something, anything, covering our heads while we rode our way down to the garden. I found a hard bright red motorcycle helmet that slipped onto my head as if it was made just for me. Joey found himself a black one with a white stripe down the middle while Lars found one that covered his entire head.

“Looks like one of those deep sea divers,” Joey cracked as he tightened the strap underneath his chin.

I undid the hitch on the trailer as he climbed on first. I didn't realize it was a police man's bicycle at first, either: but once the three of us held onto each other on the double seat, and Joey pedaled forward, the streetlight shone down the little red glass jar on top of the handlebars and I realized it was a siren. He gripped onto the handlebars and I held him around his soft little waist. I could tell he was hungry by feeling him with the insides of my forearms: his stomach felt softer and more tender than normal, which meant he was completely running on empty. But his grip on the handlebars told me he was stronger than he looked. Lars meanwhile, held onto me for dear life given he was practically hanging off of the second seat. But on the other hand, it was either have Lars be comfortable in the trailer or have Joey work harder to pedal.

For a moment, I forgot which way to the garden given we were riding on back roads compared to the freeway, but once the familiar exit signs on the freeway emerged from behind the trees, I knew exactly where to go.

We reached a series of small intersections: a rather buttoned down neighborhood, albeit one that felt familiar. We were getting close to the garden. But every dip in the road felt like too much of one for me and Joey in particular.

I spotted a rather good sized one right in front of us, and I knew it would be one of those abrupt ones. I looked at Joey pulsating his fingers on the handlebars.

“Alright, check this out—” He yanked back on the handlebars and the front wheel lifted up about a feet. I yelped out and Lars shouted something in Danish but Joey managed to bring it back down to the pavement. We missed the divet by about an inch. I shook and shuddered from that, but Joey laughed like a madman right then.

“Come AHN! We can't be doin' this and not have a li'l fun!”

“There's no point if you can't play with it,” Lars chimed in with a muffled voice.

“Exactly!”

And then it hit me. No wonder why it felt like I wondered through a fog. I couldn't play with that fog, but Joey popping a wheelie right there made me want to make bubbles with it.

But we got about a block from the garden when I noticed he was moving slower. He hadn't been pedaling so hard as of late. He was breathing harder than normal, too.

“What's wrong, dude?” Lars yelled through the helmet.

“He's tired,” I called back.

“Fucking beat, man,” Joey replied in between breaths.

“It's alright, though,” I gently said to him, “—we're almost there—I can see the neon!”

“I—I can't—”

“It's okay, Joey—we're almost there.”

“I can't—I feel like I'm gonna pass out—”

It was right then I was glad all three of us all had helmets on.

[jamezvaldes]

"Pretending like nothing is wrong is only going to make things worse." for Andy x Mika!

This was all your fault. I’m not even going to lovingly blame you. Emotions and tbh some spoilers (which i’ve already told you under the cut). Hate me if you must but remember you wanted to know about Ben. 

Everything was stripped from the south London flat. The photo frames which once hung proudly on the walls, were smashed against the floor. Furniture had been flipped over, all bar the leather sofa in the middle of the floor. But even it hadn’t managed to escape Andy’s wrath. The leather had been sliced open with her knife. Holes were punched into the drywall, her dried blood was the only indication that they were made by a person and not a flying object. If anyone walked through the flat’s door, it would appear as if a crime had occurred here. Along the wall opposite the kitchen and above the flat screen television, an assortment of knifes and blades had been thrown into the dry wall. 

Empty bottles of low quality booze lined the floors around the sofa. Some had been drunk dry but others had been kicked over. The glass coffee table had been flipped over and shattered on impact. But it had been returned to its previous place of sitting within arm’s reach of the sofa. A small plastic baggie which had the residue of a white powder in it was sitting on the broken glass. 

More empty bottles and broken belongings lined the walls to the master bedroom.  The only bedroom had received the same treatment that the rest of the flat did. More blades had been thrown into the wall across from the bed. Lamps were shattered against the floor. Bedside tables had been flipped over. The wooden dresser had been broken into pieces by a large metal pole, the weapon now lay amongst the pieces of wood. 

The door to the flat swung open and slammed against the wall. 

“Sorry” a soft voice apologised to the wall in her native tongue. She hoped that she didn’t wake or startle Andy. Mika’s eyes landed on the wall filled with either knives or holes from where they once been. She could tell that Andy had a wicked aim and in the state she thought Andy was in, Mika couldn’t tell what her grieving friend would do. 

Mika fought back her own tears as she saw the state of the flat. It was in ruins. Despite Mika last being here just over a month ago for Andy and Ben’s house warming party, it didn’t feel like a home anymore. It felt as if the joy had been sucked out of the place. 

When Andy stumbled down the small corridor and into the opened planned area of the flat, she saw Mika wandering around and cleaning up the mess Andy had made. Andy took a large gulp from the bottle of cheap whiskey she had as she made her way through the sea of broken glass, not caring if she got any in her bare feet. She threw herself down onto the sofa. 

Mika’s heart broke even more than she thought was possible when she saw the state Andy was in. Blood covering her hands, her nose looked as if it had been recently broken and badly reset, probably done by a drunken Andy. Mika’s eyes landed on the track marks, she dropped the black bin liner she was holding. Mika knew that Andy was going to be in a bad place, but she hadn’t expected her to be that far gone. 

After a little while longer Mika had finished clearing up to the best of her ability, there was only so much glass she could deal with for one morning. Mika glanced at her phone and figured out that there was only an hour left to get Andy sober enough and at least somewhat presentable. Andy couldn’t miss this. Mika dropped down beside Andy, trying and failing to avoid the holes and the springs. She ignored the slight pain of the metal spring sticking into her back. 

Mika pried the half empty bottle of cheap whiskey from Andy’s hands. She managed to catch a whiff of it, and her stomach started to do flips. This was back-alley whiskey, the kind that people would make in their garden sheds and sell on the streets.  Truthfully, Mika was amazed that Andy hadn’t drunk herself to death if this was her current drink of choice. 

Mika place the bottle down just far enough away from Andy. 

“it’s in an hour” Mika whispered in English. 

Andy shuffled back, before speaking for the first time in days. She didn’t even speak to the drugdealer before she murdered him and stole his product two nights ago.

 “I’m not going.” She wanted to be firm, but her vocal cords had betrayed her. Her voice was shaky and it was clear that strong negative emotions lingered.  

“Andrea,” Mika sighed, her tone was soft yet firm. 

“Mika, everything is fine” Andy snapped, trying to return to who she was when Mika last visited. But this reminded her of Ben and again, her heart broke. How she missed Ben. The way his hair fell across his face. How in the morning his French accent has thicker. His smile. How he believed that Andy was a good person. He loved the scars which littered her body.  

“It’s not, cupcake” Mika brushed back the hair that had stuck to Andy’s face.   “Pretending as if nothing is wrong is only going to make things worse.” 

“But if I go, it makes everything real” Andy whispered. Andy wasn’t sure if she could even cry anymore but tears slowly streamed down her face. 

Mika looked at her grieving friend, trying to force back her own emotions. This was Andy’s time to mourn Ben, not hers. Mika could mourn her friend when Andy wasn’t present. 

“I know and you don’t want it to be real. You want to wake up and realise that he’s alive and making breakfast.” Mika placed her hand on Andy’s leg in an attempt to provide a small degree of comfort. 

“It’s my fault” Andy whispered. Andy was drunk enough to want to tell Mika about what she really did and how her job for the British Museum was actually a cover for her espionage career. But if she told Mika, she’d be in danger and Andy worried that she’d have the same fate as Ben. 

“Andy it wasn’t your fault” Mika tried to reassure her. “It was no one else’s fault other than the person who pulled the trigger” 

“I know. But it just feels as if it was. Maybe if I was standing on his other side” Andy drunkenly cried. 

Mika was slightly taken back, she’d never seen Andy cry before. Mika just pulled Andy into a hug. And whispered reassurances in her native tongue. Mika couldn’t stop her own tears from streaming down her face. 

When the pair broke, Mika held Andy’s hands in her own. 

“you are going to this funeral. I will not let you regret not saying goodbye” Mika spoke. It was clear to Andy that Mika wasn’t going to let up. 

“Okay” Andy’s bottom lip trembled as she stood up from the sofa and made her way back into her bedroom. 

Mika could hear the sound of the shower turn on and Mika couldn’t stop herself as she cried out. Ben was her friend as well. He was how these two women begun a life long friendship and now he was gone. It wasn’t as if he died of some natural cause, he was murdered in the middle of the street at night and Scotland Yard had next no leads on what happened.. Andy was hanging off his arm when he dropped dead. They were truly happy. and Mika knew that, she was the one who helped Ben pick out the ring. She was the one who kept it for safekeeping. She had it with her in her bag. 

Mika picked her black clutch off the kitchen island and lifted the small velvet box out. She flicked the lid open to see the ring it held. It was a simple yet classic ring. In the middle of the silver band held a decent sized diamond, white sapphires enclosed it. Elegant yet simple, Andy would have loved to receive it from Ben. She would have said yes. Ben had even thought ahead and bought a tasteful silver chain so that Andy could have wore it around her neck. Both Ben and Mika knew that Andy hated wearing rings on her fingers due to the amount of work she did with her hands. 

As Mika could hear the shower switch off, she snapped the lid down and returned the box to the depths of her clutch. She wiped away her tears as she searched around the kitchen for anything that could help sober Andy up further. The cupboards were bare. The fridge was empty off items which could be classed as food. In one last hurrah, Mika opened a cupboard just above the fridge to see a box of tea. Mika shrugged her shoulders as she set about making a pot. She grumbled in frustration as she struggled to a clean mug. Mika didn’t know what Andy had been keeping in them and she didn’t want to know. 

Ten minutes later Andy walked out of her bedroom, slightly more sober than she went in. The cold water did a good job. Andy lent down to pull on her heels. 

 “Why do we have to wear black?” Andy asked as Mika came over to help smooth out Andy’s dress. 

 “Because its the social tradition” Mika softy spoke. 

Both of the women had lost a man who was incredibly important to them. And they lost him in such a violent way. Mika placed her hand on Andy’s as they sat and drank their tea in silence. Both of them knew that neither of them was ready for this day.