#hi sorry as expected the appointment today fucking. trashed me

[secondsonaym]

when she does the death stare 💜💜💜

[here2bbtstrash]

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

[smnthwrd]

i told myself i wasnt going to get fired up about mickey milkovich today but i started thinking about it and now i cant stop so im just gonna give anyone who cares a messy rant about how HOMICIDAL it makes me when the characters post-s5 talk shit about mickey. this isnt going to be eloquent because im exhausted but maybe ill come back and say it better some time. it just pisses me off so unbelievably much how as soon as mickey left, everyone--even mandy??-- took to shit talking him every chance they got.

its like, is mickey perfect? no, of course not, but no one on this show is?? and they dont just acknowledge his flaws, which they could have done and i wouldnt have been mad, but like everyone constantly talks shit about him and talk about him like hes an idiot (emotionally AND academically,) but they never seem to acknowledge just how fucking crazy it is that hes even come this far considering his horrible, awful upbringing??? like fucking hell man, ian literally called it "the milkovich house of horrors" at one point and everyone just expects him to come out of that and be fine?? like, huh?? no one on the show talks acknowledges the fact that the milkoviches didnt have a fiona growing up to look after them, to make sure they went to school, washed up before dinner, and maybe even talked about their feelings occasionally. the milkoviches grew up in an "every man for himself" household with terry milkovich for a father and like yeah? thats going to leave you with some problems ?? but no, no one ever acknowledges that its amazing that mickey was even ABLE to come out at all, considering all of the trauma he endured in the milkovich house--including being LITERALLY raped for being gay. if you ask me, its honestly just amazing that he didnt kill himself, let alone that he actually came out and started living his life as himself. i mean really, how many gay men with a backstory as tragic as his make it out alive and in love?? not many, in real life OR in television. but no no no, mickeys an asshole because he has to live with years of homophobic trauma that ultimately left him with a few issues 😐🤚

and DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED on how ian himself shit talks mickey every goddamn opportunity he gets????? like even after mickey comes back?? like the fact that in their fight scene at the baseball field ian is literally COMPLAINING because mickeys gone ~soft~ or whatever and whining about "where's the shit talking piece of south side trash i fell in love with blah blah wah wah aah suck it harder f*ggot😫" and TAUNTS mickey until he punches him back (i know that ians got his own reasons for this, im not hating on him, i love ian dearly) but then has the audacity to turn around and act like mickey was just so toxic🥺 and abusive💔, as if he didnt explicitly state that thats why he fell in love with him🤡 and then talk so lightheartedly about his FORCED MARRIAGE to the mother of his child that was CONCEIVED THROUGH CONVERSION-RAPE💀?? like the way the writers had ian so casually shit on mickey and trauma while hes gone just rubs me the mf wrong way. and then even in later seasons?? he STILL talks down TO him and about him and claims that "his emotional IQ is lower than carls actual IQ" as if mickey didnt look after him when he was working at the fairytale, come out to his VIOLENTLY homophobic father for him, try to take care of him during his depression, worry himself SICK when he took yvgeny during his manic episode, help the others convince him to go to the mental hospital even though he himself was against it at first, lay down in bed with him and KISS HIS FUCKING FOREHEAD, go to his doctors appointments with him, buy him every b vitamin he could find because he thought it would help, and then not only tell him he loves him, but use his WORDS (which is something we know is difficult for him) to explain to him exactly what "love" means to him.

im sorry WHAT?? where is this "low emotional IQ" that im hearing so much about? because thats not the mickey milkovich that the writers and noel fisher spent 5 seasons building and beautifully portraying 😐🤚

and im genuinely not going to get into the whole byron thing in s10 and the monogomy conversation because i ACTUALLY dont have the enegy to explain how angry i am with the writers for completely throwing all of his character development in the trash. just-- the fucking BUFFOONERY of it all.

it honestly just feels like writers revenge, like they wanted to make mickey seem like an asshole because they were bitter about noel leaving--which he had EVERY right to do considering he was putting in the work of a regular but not getting paid like one. so i dont know if fiona disliked mickey entirely or just with ian, but it seemed to me like she just didnt like him. it makes me glad she left, because i honestly cant picture her welcoming mickey into the family the way the rest of the gallaghers have.

[sunaswife]

A Suna Rintarou series

Summary: Suna was the best boyfriend you could ask for, after fighting with your inner demons that screamed you were ugly, worthless, and annoying. You finally decided to go the next step with your boyfriend, only to find out it was all a game.

A/N: PART 21 two more chapters 🥺💔

Warnings: underaged drinking, smut, guys talking badly about women, heartbreak, messed up shit that you shouldn’t do and a bit of fluff if you squint

Disc ten-slide two: Kageyama Y/N 🤍

“Congratulations you’re pregnant.”

“Mom I don’t feel so good. I’ve been feeling a bit light headed and out of breath. My stomach hurts and I’ve been throwing up and feeling nauseous.” You mumbled as you came down to eat your breakfast. Your skirt seemed a bit tighter and you wondered if you were getting fatter.

“Do you have a fever?” She asked boredly and rested the back of her palm to your forehead. You bit your Apple and pouted. “I don’t have work today so let’s go to the hospital.” She said and you nodded. Today was Suna’s birthday. You forgot to take it off your calendar so right before you opened your phone this morning you saw:

Rin-rin’s b day 👑🖤🎉

You groaned and threw your phone on your carpeted floor.

The drive to the hospital was silent and awkward. It was obvious your mom wanted to go home and rest but she’d be an even shittier mom if she let you go to school feeling like shit.

You took a pee test right when you got there because you haven’t gone and you needed to go so bad. They took some blood and finally the doctor came and asked for your symptoms. “Are you sexually active?” She asked and your face turned red. Thank god your mom wasn’t here. She was waiting in the lobby.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes?” She asked. You bit your lip and played with your fingers. “Sweetie, we need you to tell us the truth so we can properly diagnose you. There is no shame if you are.” She said and you nodded. “Well I had sex over a month ago...just once and yeah.” You mumbled. “Okay...sweetie I have a question.” She said and you nodded. “Did he use protection? I need to make sure you don’t have HIV or an STD.” She said and you nodded. “Yeah I saw him bring the box of condoms to my room..” you muttered and tried to remember that night even though the memories hurt. You then realized you didn’t remember when he put it on or when he threw the condom away. “Wait—I don’t think he put one on. After I—I gave him a b-blow job we were too into it that I don’t think he did. Because we immediately started..ya know..” you were so embarrassed and she nodded. “Okay well I’m going to do a pregnancy test just in case okay?” She asked and you nodded.

When she left you started shaking. There was a possibility you were pregnant and it took everything in you to not text Suna. “How much longer?” You heard and you jumped. You turned to see your mom peeking her head in. “I don’t know..the doctor is gonna come back in a bit.” You said lowly and she nodded and sat down inside. Your heart started beating quickly and you looked very agitated. Your mom was too busy on her phone to notice how distressed her daughter looked.

“Okay Y/N. Oh are you the mom?” The doctor said when she came in. Your mom mumbled a yeah without looking up and the doctor looked at you with a small smile.

“Congratulations you’re pregnant.”

She said and your heart stopped. Your mom immediately looked up in shock at the doctor. This must be a mistake, she thought. Then she turned to look at you and you started to cry and that’s when she knew. “She’s what?” You mom asked coldly and your eyes widened. “Mom I’m so sorry.” You whispered and she looked at you with such disappointment.

“Who’s the father?” She immediately asked and you stayed silent. “Is it that kid with the bangs?” She asked referring to that one time she met Suna on your first date. You shook your head quickly and she looked furious. “Then whos the father?!” She raised her voice. “I—I don’t know! I don’t know!” You lied. “So you’re just a slut? Is that what you are? We raised you better than this? How could you be so stupid?” She asked and stood up.

“Ma’am stop. You’re her mother, you’re supposed to comfort her and support her.” The doctor said. “I’m not her mother. Just wait until I tell your father.” She hissed and you grabbed your moms arm. “No please wait—“ she removed her hand from your grasp and she went to the door. “Find a way home because I’m not taking you.” She said and slammed the door. The doctor stayed there with wide eyes and you started balling your eyes out.

“It’s okay, she’ll come around. It’s not the end of the world.” She said and put a pamphlet on your lap. It was about motherhood and what to expect and the other side talked about abortion and adoption. “Make an appointment with a gynecologist and then you can decide if you want the baby or not.” She said and you nodded and wiped your face.

You made your way out and you saw your mothers car gone. She was serious. You stopped by the pharmacy to get prenatals with the money you barley had and the pharmacist looked at you with such disappointment. You were still wearing your school uniform and asking for something pregnant women need. You eventually found a bus and went home. When you reached your house you found your fathers car and your stomach sank even more.

He was home early.

You did the walk of shame up the small steps and took out your keys to unlock the door. You were met with an quiet house but you heard rummaging up stairs. You gulped and slowly made your way up and you found your parents in your room trashing everything. “Who’s the father Y/N.” You dad said suddenly. They tried looking for photos of you with any boy. “I don’t know—“ you answered. “Bullshit. Who’s the father so they can fucking pay. If you decide on keeping the baby they better be responsible for it.” He said as he continued going through all your drawers. “I said I don’t know who he is! I met him at a party—I don’t remember.” You lied.

“So you’re a fucking slut? Is that it? Tell me who the father is before I kick you out.” He said and your eyes widened.

Suna Rintarou

Suna Rintarou

Suna Rintarou

Just say it.

“I don’t know.”

You lied once again and at that moment you were disowned by your parents.

You went to school the next day after spending the night at your best friends house. You told her what happened and her mom offered to let you stay for a bit. You called your aunt and she wanted you in Miyagi as soon as possible. Turns out she already knew and your father called her an idiot for taking you in. You told her you’d leave in three days so you can have the proper paperwork ready to leave. Such as you documents regarding school, citizenship etc.

It was pretty shameful walking through the sea of students and none of them knowing you were pregnant and it hurt even more looking at Suna.

Should you tell him?

Is he willing to quit school to provide for a child?

Do you even want the baby?

Yes of course.

Suna has so much ahead of him. He can join a professional team and become successful in life.

But he won’t be able to do that with a baby and his ex girlfriend holding him back.

“Y/N, is something wrong?” Kita-senpai asked and you nodded and he followed you to the coaches office.

Previously

Up next

Masterlist

A/N: poor y/n 😔 that’s all I have to say

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction ||Toxic Friend

A/N: Little bit of a hard-hitting subject as I’ve just had to cut ties with someone who was very toxic with me but I wanted to write about it and let people know it’s okay to cut off people who are toxic for you

WARNINGS: SWEARING AND MENTIONS OF DRUG USE

Seokjin:

Spending your night in the hospital wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do but it’s what was happening, you’d gotten quite sick over the last week but you were putting off going to see a doctor because you were busy with other things, but when you passed out at work your boss and Jin rushed you to hospital where you were now sitting in bed looking at a boring TV set in front of you, Jin had gone to get something to eat for you while you waited for him, your phone was on the other side of the room going off a lot, you figured it was just friends and family wishing you a speedy recovery and left it alone.

“I got you some flavoured water and some grapes,” Jin said as he came back into the room, he grabbed your phone from your pocket and brought it over for you to look through the messages, the one standing out was from your “friend.” You opened it before letting out a sigh and going to reply, Jin had been reading over your shoulder.

“Why is it their problems are always catastrophic and heightened while your concerns are not important or completely minimized?” You stared up at him for a moment before going back to replying to your best friend.

“She’s just in a bad place right now.” You stated back to him hitting send and then locking your phone.

“Y/N…I get that she’s your friend but you can’t be that blind. You are in hospital because you passed out from exhaustion…you are literally sick and in hospital and all your friend can seem to do, without wishing you to get better is, talk about how life is over because she missed one nail appointment?” You could see his point but at the same time she was one of your best friends, you were always there for her when she needed you.

Yoongi:

“You’re cancelling again?” Yoongi said down the phone to you, you looked at the clock on the wall in front of you and hummed, it was 4 am which meant you would normally wake up to face time him and catch up since you were both in different time zones right now, it was one of your favourite things to do, you would go and have breakfast at the table while he would have dinner and you would just sit and talk for hours on end, about everything that happened to you the day before and everything that had happened to him that day.

“I didn’t get in till 1 am, I’m sorry baby she just kept me out.” You whispered laying your head down on the pillow of your sofa and looking at the screen, he looked so sad and you wanted to cry.

“This is the fourth time she’s done that this week Y/N, She knows these phone calls are important to you and yet she still forces you to stay out late.” He moaned into the camera, you hummed closing your eyes and letting him rant to you, this is what you did for her when she was mad too.

“You let her walk all over you and I’ve had enough.” Your eyes shot open and you stared at the screen, he was on paused so you knew he was doing something with his phone.

“Yoongi…what are you doing?” You questioned suddenly wide awake at the thought of him doing something.

“I’m messaging her, I’ve had enough. If it isn’t the late nights when I’m gone it’s her calling you at silly times in the morning when I’m here to tell you some bullshit story…or what about the time she showed up at the restaurant I took you to for our anniversary?!” He was back on the screen now, slightly red in the face and you felt guilty.

“She’s just…she’s going through some stuff right now and she needs me.” He scoffed with a chuckle.

“Needs you? You mean she realised that you have other priorities besides her and she hates it.” You looked down at your hands and then back to him, he was right. Of course, he was, he was always right.

Hoseok:

You flopped down onto the sofa after another long day with your friend, she’d dragged you shopping with her for the day and it was fine until she reached the counter and realised she’d “forgotten” her purse, you being the kind friend you are paid for her clothes and left the store with her, going to get a nice meal together.

“How was your shopping trip?” Hoseok asked coming into the living room with a cup of tea for you, he looked around and noticed you had no bags when you had specifically said you were going to get yourself some new clothes and some books today, you smiled at him and sat up taking the mug from his hands and letting him sit down next to you.

“She forgot her purse.” You said blowing into the mug to cool the liquid inside and hissed as some splashed against your lip.

“Forgot it? She asked you to go shopping,” He said unsure of your friend, you looked at him and then down at the mug again.

“She said she’ll pay me back…and that I didn’t need to worry about money.” You whispered remembering the conversation you had in the small cafe together, you did earn some stares when she said it.

“What did she mean by that?” You looked at him biting down on your lip debating to tell him or not.

“She said why do I worry so much about money when I have you…I told her not to say such things, I earn my own money and she just laughed it off.”  You leaned forward placing the cup on the table and waited for him to say something on the whole situation.

“She’s out of order…you realise she says stuff like that all the time to put you down right?” You stayed silent not wanting to admit what you had been thinking for a while, you always felt that she used you, talked down to you to make herself feel better about other things.

“I don’t know what to do Hoseok…she’s my best friend?” You whispered meeting his eyes.

Namjoon:

You were spending the day with Namjoon, he’d brought you along to the studio to have some time together while he worked, which of course you didn’t mind because you would usually sit on his sofa and read while he does his thing and he loved that you could just be around one another without worrying about making strained conversations. You were both currently sat on the floor eating some lunch together when you heard your phone vibrate again, you bit down on your cheek before continuing to eat and ignore your phone.

“Is it Y/F/N, Again?” He questioned, you didn’t even need to look at your phone to know it was, she always did this. Whenever you were out with someone who wasn’t her she would do this, spring load a bunch of texts at you to get your attention.

“Read them.” He said taking a drink from his cup, you got up from the floor and walked over to your jacket, pulling out your phone and noticing how many unread messages there were in the last half an hour.

“How many?” He questioned again, you looked away from the screen to him.

“45.” You whispered sitting down on the arm of his sofa and reading through every single message that was on the screen and getting ready to reply to her, when you felt Namjoon rubbing your shoulders gently, you lent your head back against his chest and handed him the phone feeling too exhausted to try and put into words what she’d been saying.

“Babe…she’s emotionally blackmailing you,” He bent down in front of you, making you look him in the eye as he threw your phone onto the sofa, you knew it was like this and it had been off for a while with her and you knew this deep down that she was bad for you but you also knew she was one of your best friends and you couldn’t just cut ties with her.

“She’s using everything she has to stop you from seeing me…blackmailing you for spending time with your boyfriend and yet…where is she when you need her? With her boyfriend, she’s never there but you’re expected to there at the drop of a hat…babe it’s not right you have to see that,” You were nodding along with everything he was saying as tears fell down your cheeks. He pulled you into his chest were you cried about everything she’d ever said or done to you.

(A/N Don’t even fucking @ me that gif of Joonie is precious)

Jimin:

“I just don’t see why you’re going.” Your friend said as she sat on your bed watching you pack your suitcase, Jimin had invited you out to Korea to spend his break with him and his family and you jumped at the chance, wanting to see your boyfriend and meet his family who you’d only spoken to over the phone previously.

“Because I love my boyfriend?” You asked with a laugh as you went into the walk-in wardrobe and dragged out one of his shirts you’d stolen from the last time you saw him. You heard your friend laugh from the bedroom and you poked your head out of the door to look at her.

“What?” You questioned coming out and folding up the shirt before laying it down in the suitcase.

“You really think he’s going to want you when he’s bigger? As soon as they’re big, big, he’s going to drop you.” You stared at her for a second, looking at the empty wine glass on the bedside table and putting it down to liquid courage that she was saying this to you.

“You like Jimin though, why are you saying this?” You bent down under the bed and pulled out some shoes and placing them into the suitcase.

“I liked your ex and he cheated on you, I’m not going to judge your boyfriends.” You blinked at her, then looked over at your ringing phone, she laughed again and shook her head.

“Here he is, wonder boy. Come to ruin our time together, you should just leave him before he leaves you or worse.” You shook your head this time, you’d had enough.

“Get out. Right now. Leave, I don’t care how you get home, walk or catch a cab just get out of my sight.” You said without raising your voice like you really wanted to, she stared at you for a couple of seconds before registering that you were being serious and grabbed her things leaving.

“Sorry Jimin baby I was just taking out the trash.” You yelled following her down the stairs and slamming the front door after she left.

Taehyung:

You were sitting in the cafe waiting for your friend, practically jumping up and down in your seat as you waited. The bell above the door chimed and in she walked, she looked around before spotting you and coming over, sitting down ignoring your open arms and taking your drink.

“I’ve had the worst morning! Traffic was a fucking nightmare let me just tell you.” She whined snapping her fingers at a nearby waitress who looked just as shocked as you did at her behaviour.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” She questioned flipping her hair over her shoulder and staring at you, you nervously played around with the ring around your finger before smiling and deciding to tell her.

“He proposed to me!” You whisper yelled not wanting to draw too much attention to your table as she had done, she put on the fakest smile you’d ever seen and snatched your hand towards her, almost dragging you across the table, she turned your hand over to look at the ring.

“The diamond is too small, I thought he was famous.” She scoffed pushing your hand away and leaning back against her chair and looking around.

“And why are we in some crummy little cafe to celebrate, why aren’t we in the finest of hotels breaking out the bubbly?” She said with a laugh but you knew she was being serious, you shook your head at her and put your hands into your lap.

“Because I wanted a small lunch with you, we’re engaged and I’ve made plans to move to Korea…like I always wanted to.” You said looking at her nervously, she was already staring at you with a dirty look plastered across her face as you spoke.

“You’re going to move to another country?” She questioned, her face hard to read.

“Yes…like I always had planned.” You said again trying to remind her you’d always wanted to live there.

“So you’re going to leave me here? I’m not stable enough for you to leave!” She yelled this earnt some looks from the couple at the nearby table, you looked at them with a pleasant smile and then back to her.

“Calm down.” You whispered to her, trying to take her hand in yours but she snatched it away.

“You know I need you! I can’t have you leaving me! You’re the only person who understands me.” She pleaded getting up from the table and to make a big scene out of everything.

“Y/F/N you knew I’ve been wanting to move there…don’t start this.” You said following her out of the cafe after leaving money on the table for the drinks.

“You always do this! You fob me off for him! He wasn’t always there for you! I picked up the pieces when your last boyfriend left you! I was there when he went away on tour!” She screamed in the street, people were turning to stare at you and you were starting to get anxious.

“What about my needs? I need you here! I don’t need you in some other country! You need to stay here, if you don’t I don’t think I could go on.” You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces and your phone began to go off, a text from Taehyung asking if you’d told her yet, she slapped the phone out of your hand and onto the floor, shattering the screen.

“Get your sugar daddy to pay for it.” She screamed before walking away from you, leaving you in the middle of the street with people staring at you.

You got home later that night and called Tae from your laptop on skype and explained how she acted about the whole thing, how she was never happy for you and everything was always about her.

Jungkook:

“You know you want to.” Your best friend said to you in the bathroom of the club you were currently standing in, you didn’t even want to be out tonight. You wanted to be curled up in bed next to your boyfriend who’d just gotten home from the tour but she called you crying about how she was stuck and being hit on by different men so you left Jungkook sleeping in bed and headed out to find her.

“No I want to go home, I thought you wanted that too?” You questioned staring at her as she bent down to snort that stupid white powder off the key in her hand and then leaning back and sighing in relief, you scoffed walking out of the toilets and back into the busy club, her following behind you as you left and hit the cold air.

“Where are you going? The party just started!” She giggled, you continued walking up the street going to find your car and she was still wobbling behind you in her heels.

“Y/N! You’re such a party killer.” She whined as she saw you going towards your car, she stopped outside yet another club full of drunken idiots and you stared at her.

“If you go into that club I’m not coming after you.” You warned her folding your arms across your chest, she mimicked you and you shook your head-turning on your heel and going into the car park and getting into the car.

“Fucking idiot.” You scoffed starting up the car and watching as she walked into the club and joined another group of girls, probably trying to offer them the same drugs she was trying to offer you.

“Where were you?” Jungkook asked as you walked through the front door, you looked at him and then to the clock, it was 3 am.

“It’s 3 am, why are you awake?” You questioned avoiding his question and walking over to him, he was dressed in his PJ’s in the living room.

“I woke up and you weren’t there, you didn’t take your phone.” He whispered you walked into his arms throwing the keys onto the table and relaxing at his touch almost instantly.

“She called you again didn’t she?” You nodded rubbing your eyes tiredly and then taking his hand and going towards the stairs, you wanted nothing more than to get into bed and cuddle him until you fell asleep. You reached the bedroom and saw your phone lighting up with text messages.

“I made new friends. Fuck you, at least they’ll do fun things.” You read aloud looking at the following picture of her and two other girls sniffing powder off a counter.

“Yeah well fuck you.” You whispered blocking her number and sinking into the bed next to Jungkook who proceeded to hold you tightly as you told him about what she’d been like that night.  

A/N: PSA. NO ONE TOLD ME TAGS STOP WORKING ONCE YOU HIT TWENTY OF THEM 

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {22}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Yeah....I don’t even have a nice little book quote for this one.

The days passed by quickly, the weeks all blurring together. Planning a wedding was stressful, apparently, and trying to fit it into three months was a nightmare. With a month and a half to go until he and Feyre said I do, Rhysand had only crossed off half of his to-do list.

He had the day off of work and planned to try and knock off the other half during his afternoon at home, but it was morning, and Rhysand sat with Mila in the visiting room of the Velaris State Prison.

He hated Amarantha.

Loathed her.

But he loved Mila, and he couldn’t say no to Azriel when he’d asked. Azriel couldn’t miss Elain’s doctor appointment. They would be listening to the heartbeat for the first time. It was unmissable.

“You scared, Rhysie?”

Rhysand looked down into Mila’s big, pleading eyes. He hadn’t said much, felt incredibly uncomfortable. But for her, he smiled. “I’m okay. She should be coming soon, I would think.”

“The big men bring her in,” Mila said, referring to the guards. “She can’t talk a long time. They take her away.”

Rhysand nodded, taking her little hand in his as the door pushed open and Amarantha entered. The minute she walked in and spotted Rhysand, she grinned. 

Rhysand hated that grin.

He and Amarantha had dated right after he graduated from high school, for just a few months - a few months too long.

She sat across from them and Mila beamed. “Hi, mama. Rhysie came with me today! Uncle Azzie is with Lain at the doctor.”

“Hi baby,” she smiled, then looked to Rhysand. “Rhys.”

“Amarantha,” he said, her name uncomfortable as it rolled off his tongue. “How’s prison life?”

“About what you’d expect,” she said. “I hear you’re getting married. To Feyre, of all people.”

“We don’t have to talk,” Rhysand said, trying to keep his voice light for Mila’s sake. “Talk to your daughter.”

“Oh, I will,” Amarantha said, “but this is such a great time for us to catch up. So. Feyre finally got rid of Tamlin, did she?”

Rhysand’s jaw locked. It seemed his last visit to Tamlin went better than he’d hoped for. Neither he nor Feyre had heard from the asshole since that day. 

“Ah, she did, and fell in love with you,” Amarantha crooned. “And Azriel’s a baby daddy. How about Cassian?”

“Cassie is in love with Nesta,” Mila said.

Amarantha’s brows nearly shot into her hairline. “Archeron? Shit, his standards must have really lowered.”

“Shit,” Mila repeated, and giggled.

“Don’t say that word,” Rhysand whispered to Mila.

“Don’t tell my daughter what she can and can’t say,” Amarantha snapped. “She’s not your daughter.”

“Do you even know who her father is?” Rhysand asked, before he could stop himself. Mila didn’t seem to notice, an older guard was coming around, handing lollipops to the kids, and Mila was waiting eagerly in her chair. 

Amarantha’s eyes had narrowed. “Yes, jackass, I do, and now that Az is having a child of his own, Mila will be seeing him a lot more.”

Rhysand stilled. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks,” Amarantha said, sitting back. “Azriel’s negligence has already begun. He’s not here, doing his duty to Mila. Instead, he’s with Elain, obsessing over his unborn child. It’s only a matter of time before he starts ignoring Mila entirely.”

“Azriel loves Mila like she’s his own,” Rhysand spat. “Letting her go with anyone else would be fucked up, even for you.”

Amarantha took no offence. She simply grinned as Mila hopped up from her chair and dug through the bucket of lollipops. 

“I disagree. In fact, I’ve already given Mila’s dad a call. He’ll be paying a visit to Azriel, soon.”

Rhysand said nothing as Mila crawled onto his lap. “Can you open this, Rhysie?”

Clearing his throat, Rhysand took the sucker and took off the wrapper before giving it back to Mila.

“Thank you,” she grinned, putting the sucker in her mouth before throwing her little arms around Rhysand’s neck.

“You can’t do this,” Rhysand breathed. “You just want something to control, but it’s not right, and you know it.”

Amarantha shook her head. “You don’t even know who her father is.”

“I know if he slept with you he must be a lowlife dipshi-” Rhysand’s word broke off, remembering there was a four-year-old within earshot. “Not good.”

Mila was singing a song in his ear, oblivious to it all, her entire, innocent world revolved around her lollipop. 

“You’ll all find out soon, won’t you? Besides, you used to sleep with me,” Amarantha said, lips twisted upward. “Now, Mila.” Mila turned around at the sound of her name. “Tell mama what I’ve missed.”

Just like that, Rhysand was forgotten. Mila told Amarantha about preschool, about all she did while Azriel was at work.. Then, she told Amarantha about Rhysand’s wedding, and how pretty she felt in her flower girl dress. She also told her mother that Uncle Az was going to be a daddy, and she would have a little brother or sister soon.

Rhysand’s heart broke at the words, at the little girl’s excitement. 

Innocent.

She was so fucking innocent.

Rhysand felt sick. He didn’t know who the father was. None of them did. They all just assumed Amarantha was sleeping with so many different men that she didn’t know. The thought of some random dick coming to take Mila away from Azriel…

Azriel would be crushed.

But he wouldn’t let Mila go, not without a fight - a fight he didn’t need as he prepared to bring a child into the world. Elain would support him, of course. She had grown to love Mila, too.

They all loved Mila.

The guard by the door soon announced that visiting hours were over.

Amarantha stood diligently from her chair, kissed Mila on the forehead, then pressed her lips to Rhysand’s, quickly. His jaw went hard, his lips tight.

The second she broke away from him, she whispered, “Let Azriel know about my little surprise.”

As Amarantha walked away, Mila looked up at Rhysand. “Why you kiss mama?”

Rhysand didn’t answer. With a sigh, he stood up, picking her up as he did so. She clung to his neck, the sucker still in her mouth, as they hauled ass to the parking lot. 

~~~~~

Elain was practically bouncing out of her chair. Azriel, as always, seemed perfectly calm.

“How are you not freaking out?” she asked. 

Azriel chuckled. “Because I know everything will be fine.”

“How?” she asked, rising to her feet. “Oh, I’m gonna puke.”

“There’s a garbage-”

But she had already found the trash can and was hunched over it, vomiting up what little she had managed to get into her stomach for breakfast that morning. Azriel was behind her, instantly, holding back her hair.

She leaned back into him and groaned. He stood there for a moment, comforting her as she caught her breath.

“What if they can’t find a heartbeat?” she whispered.

Azriel turned her around so that she was facing him. He kissed her forehead, softly. “Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, okay? According to my sources, you are a perfectly healthy pregnant woman, and there is a baby with a strong, little heartbeat in there.”

Elain couldn’t help but smile. “And who are your sources?”

“The internet,” he mumbled, and Elain laughed, pressing her forehead into his chest. 

She didn’t have to stress about the unknown for much longer, though, because the door opened and the doctor walked in. They had gone to high school with him, he had been in the same grade as Azriel, played basketball alongside him.

His icy blue eyes shone as he took in Azriel and Elain.

“Hey,” he grinned, clapping Azriel on the shoulder before shaking Elain’s hand.

“Hey, Kal,” Azriel replied with a smile. “Long time.”

Kallias chuckled. “Yeah, it has been. I’m glad you told Viv you were looking for a doctor. She hauled ass home and told me if I didn’t make room for you two, she’d riot.”

Viviane was Mila’s preschool teacher. She had also graduated the same year as Azriel. Her and Kallias had gotten married just after high school.

Elain laughed, quietly. “We appreciate you getting us in. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he replied, gently. “Hop up on the table for me.” 

Elain did so and laid back. 

“Morning sickness?” he asked, as he sat on a stool that he wheeled toward her. Azriel stood on the opposite side of the table, quietly.

“Ugh, yes,” Elain began.

“Good.”

When she looked at him like he was crazy, he chuckled. “Believe it or not, it’s a sign that the baby is healthy.”

Elain looked at Azriel. He was grinning - no doubt something he already knew from his sources. 

“At this point, your baby is the size of a kidney bean and only weighs a few ounces,” Kallias continued, pulling out a tube of gel. “You may start to notice your abdomen starting to grow, and you may notice your breasts getting bigger, too.” At that, he winked at Azriel. “If you haven’t already.”

Elain’s cheeks heated.

Kallias huffed a laugh. “Alright, pull up your shirt for me.”

She exposed her belly and took Azriel’s hand. Kallias’ smile softened at her tiny, growing bump. “Alright. We’re gonna try to find a heartbeat. If we don’t find one today, don’t panic. It’s normal, considering the fetus is so small. In that case, I’ll have you come back in a few weeks to try again. Okay?” Elain nodded. Kallias asked, softly, ”Ready?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed. 

“Sorry, this part’s cold.” He squeezed the gooey gel onto her abdomen, then took a little probe and spread out the gel before slowly moving it around her abdomen. 

The seconds seemed to pass too slowly. 

Azriel’s thumb was lightly brushing over the back of her hand as they waited. 

Suddenly, Kallias stopped and looked up at Elain with a smile as a fast-paced beating filled the room. 

Elain looked up at Azriel and laughed. The heartbeat was fast, seemed too fast, but Kallias said it was normal, meant it was a healthy heartbeat. 

Elain decided then, as tears filled her eyes, that it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. Judging by the softness of Azriel’s eyes, of his smile, he felt the same.

~~~~~

Cassian pulled into the townhouse’s driveway. He’d barely taken off his helmet as he knocked on the front door. 

He hadn’t seen Nesta since the night he spent with her, watching movies. He had texted her the night before, though, asking her if she wanted to go out.

She had said yes, replied quickly.

So, Cassian had taken a bike home from work and planned to take her to dinner.

The door opened a minute later, and Nesta walked out onto the porch. She took one look at the bike and raised a brow.

“You should know by now what a night out with me entails.”

Nesta huffed a laugh then gestured to her close-toed shoes. “Obviously.”

He grinned and handed her the extra helmet. “Come on.”

She took the helmet and pulled it down onto her head. Cassian helped her fasten the chinstrap before putting on his own. 

Her arms wrapped around him as they sped down the road, into the heart of the city, where they eventually came to a little restaurant in a brick building. Nesta smoothed down her hair as they entered. 

“Italian?” she asked, keeping close to Cassian as they were led to a little table by the window.

“You don’t like Italian?” he asked, as they sat down.

“Everyone likes Italian,” she muttered, with a small smile, looking down at the menu.

But Cassian was looking at her.

She didn’t look up from her menu when she asked, “May I help you?”

Cassian chuckled, picking up his own menu. “You look nice.”

“I know,” she said, quietly. “You look pretty nice, too.” 

“I know,” Cassian said, mimicking her tone.

Nesta shook her head. “So, after we eat a delicious meal, where are you taking me this time?”

“You’re so impatient,” he said, grinning.

“Yeah, I am,” she laughed. “Answer my fucking question.”

Cassian shrugged. “Wherever you wanna go. Tell me where, and I’ll take you there.”

“Anywhere?” she asked, brow raised.

“Within reason,” Cassian muttered.

She snorted, but nodded. “I like that idea.”

“That’s because you like to be in charge,” he countered.

Nesta didn’t deny it. “Obviously.” 

Nesta pretended to think about it the entire time they sat at that table. Every time Cassian asked what she was thinking, she gave him the same answer he had always given her - it’s a surprise.

“You’ll have to tell me eventually,” he laughed. “I’m driving.”

Nesta had finished her plate of pasta as she said, “Are you?”

Cassian stilled, eyes narrowed, before taking his last bite. “Oh, I’m sure as hell not letting you drive my bike.”

“Think I can’t do it?” she asked.

Cassian hesitated.

It was a trick question, he swore.

“Let me drive,” she said, cocking her head to the side. 

“Hmm,” Cassian grunted. “No.”

“Come on.”

“You don’t know how.”

“Then teach me.”

They stared at one another, neither of them budging. 

Cassian let out a long, slow breath. “Fine, but if you wreck it, I will make you watch so many shitty old movies-”

“I’ll be careful,” she interrupted, chuckling. 

“Better be,” he muttered, before asking for the check.

Far before he was ready, they were back on his bike, Cassian sitting behind Nesta.

“Alright,” he said, firing up the engine and starting to back them up. His arms were around her, his hands on the handlebars. “Put your hands under mine.”

She did so. Cassian’s hands tightened around hers. Yeah, he wasn’t sure about this one bit.

“Alright,” he said, again, guiding her hands as they approached the edge of the parking lot, ready to merge onto the road. 

Cassian had never let anyone else drive any of the bikes he brought home. She would be disappointed if she thought he was going to stop guiding her hands.

Not happening.

He revved the engine and Nesta’s body shook against him with laughter. 

“Here we go,” he muttered, heart beating wildly as she motioned for them to turn right. 

Right they went.

They drove down the main street, through the city, until they were heading down a familiar backroad. Cassian let his hands loosen, just a little bit, once it seemed Nesta was getting the hang of it. She was going slower than he would’ve, which he was grateful for.

Eventually, Nesta was pulling off of the road, to a familiar place he’d brought her a couple months before. 

She stopped the bike, and Cassian put his legs out to catch them, finally fully releasing her hands.

After turning off the engine, he took off his helmet.

“Come on,” she said, not waiting for him as she found the trail in the woods. 

With a fond smile, he followed her into the trees and down the pathway, toward the waterfalls. 

“This is my favorite place you’ve taken me,” she said, although she didn’t turn around as she did. She climbed down the path until she was on that large, flat rock, where she slipped off her socks and shoes. After rolling up her jeans, she hung her legs over the rock, into the water. 

Cassian did the same, sitting next to her. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said.

“You told me you liked me that day,” she said, looking out at the falls. “It was a good day.”

Cassian looked at her through his side eye before reaching over to gently take her hand.

She didn’t pull away.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed.

When she looked at him, she froze. “You’re giving me that look.”

“What look?” Cassian crooned.

“The look that says you’re about to do something that’s going to piss me the fuck off.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cassian said, innocently. 

Just as Nesta opened her mouth to reply, Cassian was wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and pulling her down into the frigid waters of the Sidra. 

When they came up out of the water, Nesta was screaming. “Fuck, that’s cold!” 

She splashed Cassian in the face, who simply laughed, treading in place. 

He splashed her back.

With a scowl, she swam to where Cassian was staying afloat and pushed him back under the water by his shoulders. He came up, laughing, right in front of her face.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

His arms wrapped around her waist.

He admired how she looked, clothes and hair soaked, droplets of water falling down her face. Her lips were slightly parted, her blue-gray eyes wide as she looked into his. 

“You look nice,” he whispered, the sound of the waterfalls nearly drowning out his words.

“You look pretty nice, too,” she said, brushing his wet hair back off his forehead.

He could feel her breath, warm against his mouth. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pulled her up, closer toward him.

She could never be close enough.

Closing the short distance between them, Cassian softly pressed his lips to hers.

~~~~~

“You WHAT?” Feyre yelled.

Mila had let the beans spill about Amarantha’s goodbye. Azriel had shown up mere seconds later to pick her up and, after giving them a quick rundown of Elain’s appointment, they were gone.

Leaving Rhysand and Feyre alone in their apartment.

“She kissed me,” Rhysand said, “not the other way around, calm down.”

“She put her dirty mouth on my husband’s!” Feyre said, throwing her hands in the air. “Bitch. And don’t fucking tell me to calm down. Never tell a woman to calm down.”

Rhysand didn’t correct her. Instead, he started picking up the dirty plates, silverware, and dishes off the table, bringing them to the sink. They’d had chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese - Mila’s choice. 

Feyre shuddered. “That pisses me the fuck off. Just when you think she could do all the damage she could do, she pulls shit like that.” 

“That’s not all she pulled,” Rhysand said, rinsing off the dishes as he put them into the dishwasher.

Feyre came up behind them and pulled herself up on the counter. “Care to elaborate?”

Rhysand turned off the sink and ran his hand through his hair. “She decided she doesn’t like that Elain is pregnant. She plans to use Azriel’s baby as a tool for manipulation.”

A minute passed when Feyre said nothing, and when Rhysand turned around to face her, leaning against the counter behind him, she finally said, “I don’t understand.” 

“She told Mila’s dad that Azriel has her. And, apparently, told him to take her away from Az.”

Feyre blinked, letting the words sink in. “Wait- Mila’s dad? As in...she’s actually acknowledging who the bastard is?”

Rhysand nodded. “So she says. She wanted me to tell Azriel, but...I don’t know. He was so happy, just now, I couldn’t.” 

Feyre’s eyes softened. “It’s not your fault, Rhys. But fuck Amarantha. She’s been a shitty parent all these years. Azriel has been that little girl’s only constant, and if this jackass takes her away….” She shook her head. “Did she say who it was?”

“No,” Rhysand breathed. “But, I have a really bad feeling about it, Feyre. Amarantha kept him away all these years, and, as you said, she’s been a shitty parent. If Mila’s dad is someone Amarantha wanted nothing to do with…”

“Why would she want him now, then?” Feyre asked. 

Rhysand shrugged, turning back to the sink to finish the dishes. “Because she’s bored, and she’s bitter, and she likes to watch Azriel suffer, as she always has.” 

Feyre said nothing else. She stayed sitting on the counter, quietly. 

There was nothing else to say.

Nothing that would change the hell that Azriel was about to find himself in, anyway.

 ~~~~~

Azriel had driven Mila home and put her in bed before he joined Mor on the couch with a glass of wine.

“No Elain tonight?” she asked.

“Apparently it’s sister night. Nesta’s on her way home. They plan to watch a movie and paint each other’s nails or something like that.”

Mor laughed. “Sounds fun. We should do that, too. You’re good at painting my nails.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I was in high school. My skills may have faded through the years.”

“Doubtful,” she said, grinning. “Well, I may be being selfish, but I’m glad to have you for a night to myself. Daddy.”

“Do not call me that,” he muttered, sipping from his glass.

Mor’s grin widened. “Why not, daddy?”

“Stop.”

“I like it when you use that tone with me,” she said, winking, then added, “Daddy.”

Azriel flicked her nose, and Mor’s laughter filled the air.

It was cut short when a loud knock came to the front door.

“Who the hell is that?” Azriel mumbled. “It’s late.”

Concern consumed him, suddenly thinking it was Elain, suddenly thinking something was wrong. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he padded toward the door to make sure he hadn’t missed any messages.

He hadn’t.

Shoving it back into his pocket, he threw open the door and froze.

Eris Vanserra stood outside, grinning. “Azriel. I hear you have my daughter.”

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

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty  @starkovsnesta​   @redisriding​  @photofeesh

@mariamuses​   @tswaney17    @amaranthas-whore​   @awesomelena555

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@mynewdreamwasyou​ @humming-asong​  

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@regular-nessian-trash​  @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila​  @awkward-avocado-s​

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@midnightrose-reader​  @lord-douglas-the-third​  @thestarguidingyouhome​

@empress-ofbloodshed​  @starkovsnesta​ @nickjgoodsell​

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[themangoyogurt]

Between 29th and Astoria: The Appetizer

Chapter 5

It was always the same story after a night of hard drinking - waking up with regret, plotting your own death, and revisiting misdemeanors committed under the influence of alcohol. To make matters worse, you had fallen asleep on the commute resulting in missing your stop. By the time you went above ground, back down on the other side, and hopped on the right train - you were hopelessly late.

Not only that, but you had been drunk enough to make stupid life decisions such as feel up your freaking boss, but not blitzed enough to have forgotten what had happened. You stepped off the executive elevator and onto the forty-fifth floor completely ready to die of embarrassment.

Only, you didn’t.

Ren’s door was closed, but you heard gentle murmuring behind the glass. His morning conference call must have begun earlier than scheduled. At least that took care of any awkward A.M. confrontations. If you had any doubts that your job was on the line though, they were immediately cleared as you stepped up to your little glass fortress.

Sitting neatly in the center right between your monitor and keyboard was a cup of coffee. A sticky note was stuck to the sleeve with two sentences scrawled in surprisingly beautiful penmanship.

“May I suggest a different addictive substance? Perhaps one that won’t kill you?”

The smell of hazelnut and spice wafted up from the lid, enveloping the area with a warm scent. The caramel liquid inside was still hot, and burned deliciously as it was consumed. Seeing that he bought you coffee, perhaps Kylo’s hypocrisy regarding smoking could be ignored. For now at least. You reclined into the leather seat underneath and began your typical morning rituals.

The computer fired on with a half-hearted beep. Next, physical memos were sorted as the screen slowly loaded. Some papers were shuffled into the trash. Others were filed away for later use, and a select few were organized into a folder to hand off to Mr. Ren. As soon as the monitor pinged to life, e-mails were next on the list. Similar to the memos, you organized and sorted the digital mail. Once in a while, you’d be interrupted by a phone call.

Most of the time it was a frantic Mitaka in search of one thing or another for Hux. The poor man was clearly stretched far too thin, and you always spent the latter half of your conversations giving the assistant a pep talk. By the time everything was catalogued and dealt with, it was usually lunch. That was almost always taken alone at your desk. First Order certainly didn’t encourage friendships, that much was for sure. If you were lucky and Mr. Ren had an outside appointment during the hour, you were able to eat elsewhere. Even then it wasn’t very exciting. You’d usually just grab a sorry excuse for a salad from Hale & Hearty, and eat it in the break room.

Today was different though. Twelve o’ clock struck, and Mr. Ren emerged from his office. Dark hair coiffed backwards, he slowly ambled towards your desk. Your name slid from his lips like oil and you looked up in surprise.

“Mr. Ren! I thought you had a lunch appointment today.”

He tapped his fingers along the smooth surface of your desk and nodded. Reaching over, he plucked your purse hanging from the back of the chair. Smiling, the man responded, “Yes, I do. You’re my appointment.”

You mouth slackened in surprise, and Kylo smirked at your reaction, filing away the image along with others he had collected over time. Twirling the leather strap of your bag in one hand, he turned on his heel and marched over to the elevator. You immediately jumped up from your chair and hurried a step behind the man.

He brought you to a swanky restaurant somewhere uptown. Just like at the club last night, you felt incredibly out of place. It was the type of establishment you’d only read about in magazines alongside the words “so-and-so celebrity spotted at”. It certainly wasn’t the kind of venue a failed photographer turned personal assistant ate at. And it definitely wasn’t the kind of place a boss should be taking his assistant just for kicks.

Regardless, Kylo still placed a warm palm on your lower back and ushered you through the large doors and into a marble waiting area. The hostess immediately recognized the raven-haired CEO and lead the way to a private dining area secluded in the back.

The lithe blonde’s eyes darted between the two of you and then to Kylo’s hands before asking, “Mr. Ren, would you like me to check your - uh - friend’s bag?”

Oh my God. Kylo Ren was still holding your purse.

Your face colored in embarrassment as you thought about how this woman probably checked Birkins worth six figures. Your little flea market find of cracked leather definitely had no business being checked anywhere. Panicking, you snatched the purse away from your boss and awkwardly tittered that you’d be fine holding onto the handbag.

Did the woman just give you a look of sympathy?

If she kept up that attitude, you’d give her something to be sympathetic about. Your eyes squinted ever so slightly, and Ren let out a snort. He waved the hostess away and pulled out your chair before settling in across the table.

“If you’re ashamed of your purse, you could always buy a new one.”

“Excuse me?! Just because I don’t enjoy being judged, doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of my purse! And what do you expect me to do? Go out and buy a Chanel with the zero dollars in my savings account?”

Kylo’s head tilted backwards as he chuckled, “You looked ready to choke the hostess with your mind.”

“My purse has character. Something she wouldn’t understand,” you pouted.

“Yes. I’m just finding out about how much character you possess.”

Heat spread across your cheeks and your face bloomed pink at your boss’s teasing. Fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth you whispered, “I’m so sorry about last night, Mr. Ren.” He dismissed your apology with a wave of his hand and chortled, “I’ve seen Phasma do worse on a better night. Don’t worry about it.” He slowly drank in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your lashes shyly fluttered at his words. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

Thankfully the waiter arrived, and provided some relief as he went over the tasting menu. Who on earth ate five courses at twelve thirty in the afternoon?

Apparently, Kylo Ren did. The man didn’t even flinch as the waiter rattled off various dishes and accompaniments. You blushed again as Mr. Ren ordered a whiskey neat for himself and a gin and tonic for yourself. He ignored your protests that it was too early to drink, and opted to lean back and watch your fruitless objections with mirth.

“Are you done?”

Your ears turned red, and Kylo grinned with his full set of teeth. He was beginning to discover a new hobby - making his assistant blush. Once again, the waiter came to the rescue as he set down a white oval porcelain dish with two oysters perched atop a hill of ice with caviar scattered about. Ren expertly fed himself the appetizer and watched you struggle in amusement. Compared to Ren’s effortless elegance, you looked like a pelican choking down sardines.

He quietly placed a palm on the table and asked, “So, tell me about yourself. What do you do after work?”

An eyebrow raised on its own as you studied Mr. Ren with some suspicion. Just a few days ago, this man was one missed memo away from flipping over your desk and booting you out the door. Now he wanted to know what you did for fun? As if sensing your apprehension, Kylo teased, “Isn’t this what friends do? Get to know each other?”

The memory of Kylo’s massive hands gripping your slight wrists was enough to make you gag on your drink. Were gin and tonics always this difficult to stomach?

Clearing your throat and wiping the edges of your lips, you replied, “Well. Honestly, I go to work so early and stay so late...there isn’t really much time for me to do anything. My friends are pretty understanding though, so we spend most of our time at my apartment or theirs. We - uh - you know, talk. Sometimes we play board games or just watch Netflix. We do other things together, too.”

Kylo arched a brow and joked, “You do ‘other things’ with your friends? How conveniently vague.”

Coughing again, you sputtered, “No! No. I mean, we’re all single, but we don’t - you know - do weird things. Uhm, Rose is a mechanic and she works on these crazy fancy private planes that come in and out of the city. Sometimes her clients invite her to cool things, and I’ll get to tag along. Poe has a really sweet job, and he’ll hook us up with tickets to events, too. And, uhm, Finn also works at Poe’s company, but only part time. But he’s trying really hard to be an actor and he just wrapped up a really great show. We’ll go see him in different performances, and it’s really fun!”

Kylo ran his bottom lip along the edge of his glass as he took in your response. The name “Poe” sounded oddly familiar to him. It was a rather archaic sounding name that not many in your age group had. He’d have to look into that later, rather preferring to settle on one key fact he was surprisingly happy to learn - you were single.

“What about you, Mr. Ren? Do you have any hobbies? Or - uhm - date?”

You were going to be the death of him. If he could die via cuteness, he would choose you every time. He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, almost as if you wished you could push the words back down. He thought for a moment: no, what he did with the fairer sex certainly wouldn’t be considered dating. As for hobbies?

“Sure. I enjoy calligraphy. It’s a nice marriage of art and the written form. I also like taking my cars out to the speedway from time-to-time. As for dating? No. I wouldn’t say I have the time to date...per se.”

You nodded along, thinking the entire time that Mr. Ren sounded lightyears above you. Of course someone like him wouldn’t play fucking Cranium in his free time. You continued to eat and chat until the meal wrapped up. Kylo was even suave enough to take care of the check while he got up to use the restroom, saving you the embarrassment of having to act like you could even afford to split the $700 bill.

Walking out the door, you stopped to turn to the man. Rocking a bit on your heels, you meekly murmured, “Thank you, Mr. Ren...”

“What was that, little mouse? I didn’t quite catch that.” A quirk of his lip indicated that he was teasing you again.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up, “Thank you, Mr. Ren. For the meal. And the conversation. I - uh - quite enjoyed spending time with you.”

He gave you a warm smile. The most genuine one you have yet to witness. He carefully patted your back - high enough to be professional, but low enough to leave you confused.

Looking up into the sky, he replied, “I’m glad. Perhaps we could making spending time together a habit.”

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 1 - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him. 

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that. 

Part 1 of ?

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please. Also It’s 2:30 am here so I’ll make a header image later after I’ve slept a little. K thanks.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don't have to hide, don't have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever's just for now We're on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

There’s a thing about waiting rooms, Billy thinks, where they try to make them look alive by putting everything up on the walls they can find. All the bullshit abstract paintings and clocks in weird shapes and bright color. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a waiting room though, and people here aren’t happy. 

The walls are the offest white Billy has ever seen and the sad thing is he’s fairly sure they deliberately chose this color. He can hear the ticking of the clock shaped like a daisy flower, hammering through the silence. 

Everything here seems too much. The walls are too off-white. The clock is too loud. The paintings too bright. There’s people on the brochures and flyers that are so neatly placed on the table in the middle of the room. Those people stare at him with their shiny colgate smiles that are just a tiny bit too wide to be reassuring and end up looking more creepy than anything.

He really has to give it to them, they tried it here. Tried to make the place feel less sterile and more homely and warm. The seats in the waiting room are cushioned and comfortable and there’s music playing faintly in the background.

And yet this is still a waiting room and no one wants to be here.

A cough sounds from his right, followed by another one. It’s the 12th cough in the matter of 5 minutes. He’s counted. The man next to him looks about Neil’s age and he’s built like a tank. And he looks positively miserable. 

In the corner of the room sits a girl who seems to be a little older than Billy. She has bright red hair pulled up in a crazy bun and she’s nervously fumbling around with a hair tie. Twirling it around a finger then twirling it back. Tangle, untangle, tangle, untangle. 

“ Billy ? “ 

He looks up at the voice and his heart sinks all the way down to his stomach. I am not sick. I am not sick. I am not sick and I don’t need to be here.

But the facts are that he is here, he has to be. And waiting for him in the doorway of the waiting room is a doctor. A therapist. Dr. Ryland Kapelsky.

Who the fuck calls their kid Ryland ? 

He’s got a thick bushy mustache and glasses that look two sizes too big for his tiny head. Everything about him seems far too comical. This has to be a caricature come to life, straight off the pages of a sunday newspaper.

This man, Billy is painfully aware, knows more about him than he wants him to know. He’s most definitely read his file. He surely knows this therapy session is court ordered.

And still, caricature man holds no judgement in his eyes. 

“ Billy ? “ he asks again, now looking straight at Billy as if his deep brown eyes might look right into Billy’s soul, “ that’s you, right ? “ .

Billy nods and gets up “ yeah that’s me “.

Dr. Kapelsky has a firm handshake and Billy think that this guy is not one to bullshit. Which is quite tragic because bullshitting is something Billy absolutely excels in. 

“ Nice to meet you, if you’d please follow me to my office “.

His voice is stern but not mean or angry. He seems professional enough which is a bit surprising compared to his comical look.

As they move down the hallway, more off-white walls left and right, Billy glances at the various plaques and certificates proudly displayed.

He wonders if there’s one for winning the caricature look-alike contest. Suppressing a chuckle he follows the man into a spacious office and sits down in yet another cushioned chair by a big oakwood desk. 

Dr. Kapelsky closes the door before joining Billy by the desk. He sizes him up, tries to figure him out by just initial impression. Billy can tell. He’s probably trying to come up with a way to approach the situation, to get him to open up and spill all his deep and dark secrets and emotions. 

Billy can see it all happening and yet all he can concentrate on, is the taxidermy racoon on the shelf in the corner of the room. Why the fuck did this comic-figure-looking guy have a taxidermy racoon in his office ? 

“ So, Billy. Let us start with introductions. I am Dr. Ryland Kapelsky but you can call me Dr. K. It’s what most of my younger patients do.” 

Billy hates this, not the guy but the attitude. He’s not going to win him over by pretending to be cool and down with the kids. He’s not a kid. 

He’s not a patient either. Because he is not sick. 

“ a’right. “ 

“ And you are ? “ 

“ Billy Hargrove, you know this. You’ve read the file. “ 

“ I did, indeed. “ 

“ So you know this is court ordered. I’m not here because I want to be or need this is any way. I have to be here or I’m going to juvie. That’s the only reason. Sorry to disappoint but we’re not gonna end up making daisy chains and talking about our feelings. “ 

“ I understand that you don’t want to be here “ Dr. K. says and slides the too-big glasses down his nose “, no one really does. I need you to understand though, that this is a chance for you more so than a punishment. “ 

That’s easy for him to say, Billy thinks, he’s the one getting a big ass paycheck.

“ I see you’ve also been assigned 60 days of community service. Is that correct ? “ 

“ Yes, sir. “ 

“ I was asked to suggest an institution I find suitable for you to work those days. One that I think will benefit you. “ 

“ Wait wait wait. What ? I thought I was gonna pick up trash at the side of the highway “.

“ Billy, “ Dr. K says and does that thing adults do where they look at you and sigh and pretend to care “ this is supposed to help you. It’s a chance. Picking up trash is not gonna do anything now, is it ? I want you to take something from this. “ 

Oh he has taken something from it. Don’t punch rich kids whose parents have the funds to get a good lawyer and press charges. No matter how deserving those rich kids are of a fist in their face.

“ Alright then, what’s the verdict, doc ? Where you gonna send me off to ? “ 

“ Well. There’s a place in Huckley, it’s a tiny town about a 30 minute drive from Hawkins. It’s called the Huckley home from troubled children and youth. There’s kids and teenagers from troubled homes who struggle in life. They’re all a bit younger than you. Most of them come from abusive homes. “ 

“ What are you saying, sir ? I’m not a troubled youth. I don’t need to attend some looney institute, bad enough I have to sit through this shit here.“ 

He doesn’t like this man insinuating stuff about Billy’s home life. He doesn’t know shit. No matter how many plaques and trophies and certificates. This man doesn’t know the first thing about Billy’s family. His home. 

“ Oh no you’re supposed to work there. Help out in activities. Attend the group session and listen to the kids. Also, and I mean no offence, Billy. I only judge by what I am familiar with. By what I’ve learned over the years. I see your father was asked to accompany you to today’s appointment. He’s not here. “ 

“ I’m almost 18 my dad doesn’t need to be here. “ 

Truth is, Neil wouldn’t have come no matter what age Billy is. 8 or 18 it doesn’t make a difference. Neil laughed at him when the letter came. Then gave him a black eye to go with. His taunting words are still ringing through Billy’s ears. 

“ Yes but we usually like the parents to be there. To asses the situation and to — “ 

“ Well he’s not here so can we drop it ? “ 

“ Sure. “ 

Billy can see him scribbling something into his notebook. Probably another assumption. It’s ridiculous, really. The fact that he has to sit here and let a complete stranger make up a story of what he thinks is going on in Billy’s life.

“ Look doc, I don’t need you to figure me out or anything like that. It’s bullshit anyway. All I need is for you to sign my notes every session for the next 8 weeks so the court knows I’ve been here and that’s about it, okay ? You get paid either way so it shouldn’t matter. “ 

“ This is my job, Billy. It always matters.”

“ Well this time it don’t. Now tell me about that troubled youth center thing so I can get that over and done with.” 

- XXX -

The Huckley home from troubled children and youth stands at the end of a cul-de-sac with a little lake and a whole god damn forest behind it. There’s two other houses down the street but they’re all about 10 minute walk away from the big red brick building.

He takes one last puff from his cigarette before stomping it out on the floor and walking up the gravel driveway towards the big oak door.

There’s gold ornaments on the door handles and up and down the sides. He wonders if this is one of those fancy looney bins that rich parents send their kids to when they don’t wanna deal with them or can’t bother to bring them on their trip to Aspen.

The inside looks nothing like Billy has expected it to look. There’s wide big walkways and windows that let the sunlight stream through the halls. Every wall is plastered with drawings and macaroni picture frames and certificates that all hold little shiny star stickers. 

It reminds him a little of his elementary school back home in California. His mom used to be a teacher there and even before he was old enough to visit the school himself, sometimes she took him with her to sit by her desk while she taught the kids a new letter or help her put the shiny stars onto an especially well done assignment. 

But his mom is gone now and sticker stars don’t mean shit in the real world. He wonders if they ever really did. If so, he’d like to know when they stopped mattering.

“ Can I help you ? “ a voice speaks up from his right. There’s a girl there and she doesn’t seem to be much older than him. She’s wearing a white shirt that proudly displays the letters HHTCY. Ah great, uniforms. 

She’s cute though, he has to admit that much.

“ Hi. I’m Billy. Billy Hargrove. I’m here for — uh community service “.

“ Oh! Oh yeah just let me — let me see if I can find someone to … “ she doesn’t finish the sentence, just hurries back towards the way she’s just come from.

Billy uses this time to look around the halls a little more. The certificates all seem to have been rewarded for different things. Exceptional Storyteller. Hide & Seek champion. Queen of hopscotch.

He wonders what certificate he’d get. Biggest disappointment ? Lousiest life ? Best hair ? Probably all of them. 

“ Sooo, seems like Janet was supposed to show you around but she’s had a family emergency so she’s not here aaand that means I’ll show you around since literally anyone else is currently busy. “ the girl appears again, her mouth spitting out words a mile a minute. 

“ I’m (Y/N) “ .

“ Billy. “ 

“ Hi, welcome to —” 

“ Look sweetheart, I don’t need to whole spiel, okay ? I’m here on court order so just tell me where to go and what to do and let’s get this over with. “ 

She looks defeated for a moment which makes Billy feel a little bad about his harsh tone but really, the quicker he’s started the quicker he gets to leave. Once this is over he’s not gonna see this girl ever again, so who cares ? 

“ Oh, alright. Well here’s a schedule that Janet made and a floorplan. I need to show you around before you get to actually do anything but I am scheduled to sit in on a group talk so I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me. Now look, I get you don’t want to be here. Honestly I don’t give a shit about that. But these people, these kids, they are here because we care and because they need someone to care. Don’t be a dick in there. Don’t ruin this for them. If you do, I’m gonna kick your ass into the next dimension. Is that clear ? “ 

Billy is stunned. He doesn’t know who this girl is but it’s not the same one that he’s interacted with just minutes before. This one isn’t timid or sweet. She’s spunky and feisty and interesting and — kinda hot.

“ Whatever you say, ma’am” 

“ Yeah, whatever I say. Now let’s go !” 

Damn. What the hell has he gotten himself into here.

- XXX -

The room that the group talk is held in is big and airy with light colored walls and even more paintings. It’s not at all as small and cramped and sad as he had imagined it. 

There’s a bunch of people here, about 6 or 7 kids who range from what Billy assumes can’t be much older than 6, to people who look to be around his age. Then there’s (Y/N) and a woman that had introduced herself to Billy as Dr. White, though all the kids seem to refer to her by her first name, Lydia. 

Some of the kids are smiling, radiating with energy and joy while others hardly speak up and mostly keep their eyes focused on the floor. Though even those kids are always attentive, Billy notices. Always listening. Still a valid and active part of this conversation even when they don’t even speak a single word.

This whole talk is so different from what he expected it to be. There’s no pressure. No one is forced to do an emotional strip and lay bare all of their darkest secrets and innermost feelings. it’s mostly the kids talking about their day. The good and the bad. Things that scared them and things that gave them hope. Lydia seems genuinely interested in what they have to say too. (Y/N), Billy notices as his eyes keep drifting towards her, hold a warm smile on her face the entire time. And it’s not fake or overdone. It seems so genuine, so honest. He wonders if anyone has ever smiled at him like this.

“ Abby, you haven’t said anything yet. How was your day ? “ Lydia asks, looking at the girl across from her in the circle of chairs. Abby must be around 7 or 8 years old. She’s small and has a big mop of blond hair on her head. Her sweater seems a few sizes too big, she’s practically drowning in it. Billy isn’t sure he really wants to know her story. If she’s here, he’s sure it’s not a happy one.

“ It was — alright. Grandma and Grandpa came to visit. They took me to get ice cream, mom wasn’t here though. Not this time. They said next time she’d come. Maybe I get to see her for my birthday. “ she says the words with a sprinkle of hope, one Billy knows too well. A hope he has tried to hold onto for so many times in his own life. One that’s but a mere illusion. It’s a trick. It’s not real.

He hopes this little girl never has to find out about that. He hopes, sincerely hopes, that she gets to keep this hope in her heart for as long as humanly possible. Because losing it comes with pain and suffering and heartbreak. And this little girl doesn't deserve that. 

“ So how would you rate your day from 1 to 10 ? “ Lydia asks. 

“ Like a 7 maybe ? “ 

“ Are you asking me ? “ Lydia smiles at Abby.

“ A solid 7 “.

“ That’s good then. “ 

They’ve done this with all the kids that had wanted to share something, ask them to rate their day. Billy’s days are usually 4s sometimes when it’s a real good day their climb up to become a 6. Then there’s days, those when Neil is home, that are no better than a 2. Those ones come with at least a bruised cheek or a bloody nose and at worst with a broken rib. 

“ So, I guess that’s it for today. Thank you guys for sharing your stories with us. Those of you to stay, please go get some lunch. Those that go home, I’ll see you next monday and I hope your week becomes a solid 10. “ 

Something in the way Lydia speaks, makes Billy feel a little more at easy. She has a softness to her words, like they’re made of cotton. His mom used to talk like that to her students. All gentle and kind and wonderful. 

“ Hey you “ a hand waves up and down in front of Billy’s face “ let’s grab lunch then let me show you around. “ 

It takes a moment for Billy’s eyes to fully focus on the person in front of him, only to be met with (Y/N) who’s wearing a huge scowl on her face. 

“ Huh ? “ 

“ I said let’s go eat. Oh and uh — thanks for not fucking this up. “ 

He doesn’t think behaving like a decent human being deserves any kind of thanks, he appreciates it anyway.

- XXX -

“ … and this is my office. Well technically it’s Janet’s office but she mostly does our paperwork and accounting and so she does that from home most of the time aaaand that means I get to use the office while she’s not here. Even though I’m only volunteering and I’m not supposed to have an office actually but uh —  “ 

“ You talk a lot, don’t you ? “ Billy asks as a smirk pulls up the corner of his lip. 

“ I’ve heard people say that, yeah. You on the other hand talk very little “ (Y/N) says before sitting down on the big oak desk. 

“ Yeah well I don’t got nothing to say to you, babe. “ 

“ Ah man, you gotta stop with those pet names. “ 

“ Huh, and why’s that ? Does it make you nervous ? “ there it is, the smooth suave Hargrove charm that his mother always said was gonna cause her sleepless night and gray hair. He always scoffed at that, now he wishes he could see her with gray hair. Older and — alive. 

“ Pretty much everything makes me nervous really but no, it’s just unprofessional. “ 

“ You’re a volunteer and I am here on court’s order. We’re hardly professionals. “ 

He can see a small smile threatening to cross her face, it’s so subtle he almost misses it. Almost. 

“ What’s the deal with Abby ? “

“ huh ? “

“ The little girl. “ 

Something about this girl reminded Billy so much of himself when he was younger. Her whole demeanor was so familiar like he was looking into some kind of distorted mirror that allowed him to look into the past. He just had to know what her story was, even if it meant to feel the all too familiar pain. 

“ I can’t tell you any specifics but well, her mom has — issues and her dad is not in the picture. She used to stay with her grandparents but they are getting older and feel like they can’t provide her with all the things she needs at this moment. So she stays here with us. “ 

“ Do all the kids ? “ 

“ Nah. Some of them stay here permanently. Some temporary. Some just come around certain days of the week. It really depends on their individual situation. We provide them with what they need even if it’s just a place to stay and some open ears. “ 

Billy wonders if things would’ve turned out different for him had he had someone who cared. Who was willing to listen. To his sadness and his anger and all the pent or emotions he had to keep inside for the longest fucking time.

“ Well good for them. “ 

“ Yeah. I hope it makes a difference. “ 

Billy smiles at her. He hopes it seems genuine, because it is.

“ Oh I’m sure it does. “ 

- XXX -

Billy is exhausted once he arrives home. (Y/N) took him around the entire building doing several different chores and tasks to make sure he got acquaintanced with everything that needed to be done. From tidying up the community lounge rooms to helping prepare food to paperwork. She made sure he saw and did it all at least once. And my god, this girl was thorough.

As he steps through the door, he can hear the scrapping of cutlery against the porcelain plates. They’re all sitting around the kitchen table like a perfect little family. Neil, Susan and Max. A sight for sore eyes, if he’s ever seen one. There’s no room for Billy on this table. There never really was.

Neil’s eye shoot up as his son enters the kitchen, a snarl makes its way onto his lips and the gross mustache twitches disgustingly. God, Billy can’t even put into words how much he detests his father.

“ Look who returned home. The prodigal son. My boy. Tell us Billy, how was community service ? Did you work real hard ? Did you make them proud ? “ 

The teasing is hardly hidden in his words. It’s ugly and taunting and Billy is sure those words are gonna ghost through his head for much much longer. If Neil could just shut up for once. Just once.

“ It was alright. Can I go to bed now ? “ 

“ Alright ? What kind of answer is that ? “ Neil snarls, taking another sip from his can of bud light. Susan and Max avert their eyes down towards their plates, nervously pushing their food across the tableware. 

“ What do you want me to say, dad ? That is was good? It wasn’t, it was fucking exhausting ! That I’m sorry ? Well I’m not. The dude had it coming. I did a shit thing and now I’m suffering the consequences, what the fuck else do you want me to do ? “ 

He knows, as those words leave his lips, that he’s fucked up. Before he can even register what happens, a loud smash echoes through the room before. Then Billy feels the smooth surface of the fridge pressed against his back and Neil holds him by the face in a grip so tight, Billy is sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

“ Is that a way to talk to your father ? I give you everything you ungrateful little shit and this is how you thank me ? Grow up, Billy ! Start taking some god damn responsibility “ 

Smack. 

He’s used to it by now. It stings a little less each time. He hates that it does. He hates that he gets used to this. From his dad of all people. The one who should be sheltering him from bad is the one bringing it upon him.

“ Do you hear me ? “ 

“ Yes sir ! “ 

Another smack. This time he can feel his lip split open. He’s used to that one too.

“ Excuse me ? What was that ? A little louder please. “ 

“ Yes, Sir !” 

When Neil lets him go and sits back on the kitchen table, Billy carefully steps over the broken plate and hurries towards his room. The rage in his system says “slam the door” but he knows that would make things worse. So much worse. 

Though he can’t help himself but punch the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. He loses count at some point but gets pulled back into reality when he notices a red sheen covering his knuckles. 

As if a split lip wasn’t shitty enough he had to add bleeding knuckles and a bruised fist to it. Great. 

The rage feels all consuming. Like it’s taking over everything and swallowing him whole. He needs to get out. Needs to get away for a moment. Out of this house where misery lives and anger seems to inhabit every corner, every wall. If he doesn’t get out now he’ll explode.

So he opens the window, quiet as a mouse, like he’s done so many times before and rushes towards the camaro. If Neil notices he’s gone, that’s something he’ll have to deal with later. It doesn’t matter right now. All that matter now is getting away. As far away as possible.

- XXX -

There’s a perpetual red glow in this 24h convenience store. It comes from the neon signs in the window that advertise hot dogs and cream soda. Billy thinks it gives the place a realy creepy vibe. 

He fumbles around the freezer before taking out a popsicle package and holding it to his swollen knuckles. It’s soothing sure, but it’s uncomfortable holding that stupid box to his hand.

“ Have you never seen a movie before ? You gotta use frozen peas, man “ 

Recognizing the voice immediately, Billy turns to see (Y/N) stood next to him, a white grocery basket hanging from her arm as she holds out a packet of peas to him. 

“ They properly take the shape of your hand. Works way better, trust me ! “ 

“ Oh yeah “ Billy replies, taking the peas from her hand and holding it to his injured. Goddamn she’s right. “ You some kind of secret nurse or something ? “ 

“ Not really but that’s common sense. “ 

“ Not something I can pride myself with apparently. “ 

And when she laughs at that, it’s like for a second his knuckles don’t hurt and he forgets about the dried blood on his lips.

“ Man, you just got ordered community service for punching someone. Thought you’d have learned. “ 

“ You should see the other guy “ Billy jokes. But really, it’s not funny. Not even close.

“ Yeah ? Big guy ? “ 

“ Huge. Made of drywall “ 

“ Huh. Did you win at least ? “

“ Ya betcha, baby. I always win “ and if only that was the truth.

“ Come on Rocky, lemme get some stuff to fix you up. “ 

It’s a few minutes later that Billy sits in the bed of her pick-up with (Y/N) standing between his legs, dabbing alcohol onto his lip and knuckles. If this wasn’t such a ridiculous situation it could even be a little romantic. With her so close to — certain regions of his body. Fucking hell Billy, get it together !

“ So uh — do you wanna talk about what happened ? “ 

“ Not really. “ 

“ You sure I could — “ 

“ Look (Y/N) I don’t have the best life at home, okay ? But that’s all you need to know. I’m not one of your kids that spill their heart and emotions out to you I just needed to get away from home, is that alright with you ?  

“ That’s perfectly fine “.

He can almost feel how genuine her words are. She doesn’t judge or pry. And he is eternally grateful for that. 

“ Why are you here so late anyway ? “ 

“ Had to get some groceries. We’re gonna pretend I didn’t just come here because I had a huge craving for ice cream, okay ? “ 

He scoffs. This girl is ridiculous. And something about that makes her incredibly charming.

“ So, I assume you don’t wanna go home tonight ? “ 

He doesn’t. If Neil has discovered him gone, he can’t show up home again tonight. Not under any circumstances.

“ Not really, no. “ 

“ I have a pretty comfortable couch. It’s big enough for you and it comes with an extra fluffy cuddle companion. “ 

“ What does that mean ? “ 

“ I have a cat. His name is Luke Skywhiskers and he’s fat and orange and very clingy. So if you don’t mind that — “ she shrugs her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t be nearly as cute as it is. 

Billy isn’t particularly fond of cats, then again he’s never really had a lot to do with any cats. Never being allowed to have any pet because they’re “dirty” and “cost a shit ton of money” according to Neil, Billy was never given the chance to really bond with an animal.

But then again, everything was better than going home.

“ Sounds alright. “ 

“ Okay, cool. “ 

“ Thank you, (Y/N). “ 

“ It’s no problem. Just follow my car and I’ll see you at my place then “ (Y/N) says, pats his chest and gets into her car.

As Billy get into the Camaro and  slumps down in the seat he wonders how his night managed to end like this. Bloodied and bruised and one the way to spend the night at a complete strangers house. 

A stranger who’s shown him more kindness in the last 24 hours than his dad did in the last almsot 18 years. 

Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe it was a solid 5. 

[ft-dads-au]

Once Upon a Nightmare - Chapter 4

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Coffee Pairing: Sting x Rogue

A Collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

AO3 | Prev: Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Next: Ch 5

Summary: When Sting finally returns home, he dreads having to tell Rogue why he's been out for so long. Not only does he have to confess he told his father everything, but he also needs to mention he has made an appointment with a therapist, a friend of his dad's, who he will be meeting at the coffee shop the next day.

Chapter 4: Coffee

The sound of the key twisting in the lock startled Rogue out of his sleep. He hadn't meant to doze off on the couch, but his nights were short, and the warmth of the sun rising on the side of their bedroom caused him to wake up early, so he should've known it was bound to happen the moment he'd sat down to watch tv as he waited for Sting to return from his run.

His phone must've been in his hand when he'd fallen asleep, as it was now laying right next to him on the couch with the messaging app still open, the text Sting had sent him as a reply displayed on the screen. Looking at the time, Rogue noticed that had been nearly two hours ago.

"Hey, sorry I was gone so long," Sting called from the hallway as he kicked off his running shoes, "I wanted to call you, but my battery died."

There was something off about his voice, it was missing its usual verve and sounded even less like him than it had over the past days. Rogue rubbed the blurriness of sleep out of his eyes and pulled himself off the couch, getting ready to ask why he'd been out for close to 4 hours, but as soon as he saw Sting trudging into the living room, the words got stuck in his throat. He looked exhausted, sweaty, his hair all messed up and sticking to his forehead, and he could flash him that sweet smile all he wanted, but Rogue could easily see that he had been crying.

Worry broke through Rogue's sleepy daze, quickly followed by the heaviness of guilt at the thought that Sting's tears were somehow a result of how dismally the last week had gone. Even though he'd been checked out for large parts of it, Rogue still knew that it was nothing like what they had excitedly planned over phone conversations.

Instead of visits to amusement parks and beaches, the furthest they had ventured out had been the coffee shop. Sitting together on their bench swing to read or watch the sunset was certainly pleasant enough, but it was a far cry from frolicking in the surf or going on fast paced rides, both of which were much more Sting's style.

To his credit, Sting had not complained once about their lack of activity, in fact, he'd been nothing but supportive, even managing to rein in his natural rambunctiousness so that Rogue could get rest. Had Rogue done anything for him in that time?

Try as he might, he couldn't think of a single thing, and that realization made him sad. He was well aware that in many ways, Sting was waiting on him, and it was frustrating that he couldn't seem to move in any direction. That stupid nightmare had destroyed all the progress he'd made in the last few months, hurtling him right back to those first days after the attack. He needed to do better before he managed to lose the one thing that had been holding him together.

Arming himself with courage, he forced himself to stay in the moment, to take care of Sting for once, regardless of how much he feared his response. "What happened?"

"I- uh…" Sting took a deep breath that only fed into Rogue's fear, his heart racing as he tried not to let his imagination run away with him while he waited for Sting to say something.

When a minute had passed, and Sting still hadn't said anything Rogue began to feel awkward and hoping to come up with something to break the silence he looked down at himself, trying to remember how many days he'd been wearing the same set of clothes. To his great embarrassment, he wasn't even sure. He certainly didn't smell pleasant. Not that Sting did either at that moment.

That gave him an idea, one that would hopefully relax Sting enough to be able to tell him whatever was bothering him. "Come on," Rogue beckoned Sting to follow, only stopping long enough to get two clean towels from the linen closet.

He entered his parents' bedroom, which he usually kept closed, leading Sting to their bathroom and the jacuzzi tub it contained. He rarely used it because it was such a pain in the ass to clean up after, and although he wasn't particularly looking forward to it now either, he was willing to put up with it so they could share a nice moment together. At least, he hoped so.

The change of scenery seemed to loosen Sting's tongue, "This is nice," he said as he looked around the large room that was decorated in the blues that both his parents loved. It was devoid of pictures at the moment as his parents had taken the frames with them to the house they were renting in Alvarez, but Rogue could remember the location of each and every one.

Refusing to let himself get caught up in more sad thoughts, he quickly entered the bathroom, knowing Sting would follow. He ran the tap, and as they waited for the tub to fill up, he dove into his mother's bathroom cabinet, picking some brightly colored bath bomb from all the fancy bath supplies she kept there and putting it on top of the laundry basket along with their towels.

"We should rinse off first," he pointed out, frowning in disgust at the staleness of his t-shirt when he pulled it over his head. He didn't know why, maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was because he felt now wasn't the time to be ogling Sting as he was undressing and needed an alternative, but once he'd taken his clothes off, his eyes were drawn to the mirror above the sink.

He didn't see what he'd feared to see, the flashback of his own reflection from right after the attack he'd sometimes see when facing a mirror, but the reality wasn't exactly a load off his mind either.

"You should've told me I looked like an escaped convict," he mumbled while staring at the combined result of his lack of sleep and personal care.

"I mean, I didn't fall for you just for your appearance," Sting retorted weakly.

It was a sweet thing for him to say, and Rogue knew that, but the bitter thought that whatever it was he did end up falling for was probably hard to find was stopping him from feeling touched by it. He quickly tore his gaze away from the mirror again before thoughts like these could get the chance to take root and grow, which would only cause him to turn in on himself even more.

Grabbing Sting's hand, he led them into the shower. "It's probably going to be cold, we're already using hot water for the bath, so…"

"It's fine, I'm all warm and sweaty anyway," Sting shrugged, but when Rogue turned on the water, he yelped and squirmed around, just as Rogue expected.

A soft chuckle escaped him, as he felt glad to see some of his boyfriend's usual silliness return. He grabbed one of the bottles of shampoo and quickly started lathering Sting's hair and body, offering a little bit of warmth.

"T-T-Thanks," Sting managed through clattering teeth before hesitantly returning the favor.

Under different circumstances, if they weren't hurrying to get out from under the cold stream as fast as they could, and if they hadn't both been agitated, it could've been romantic. A preface to something more intimate, the likes of which their relationship had lacked over the past week. That was another thing Rogue regretted, and yet, as much as he'd tried and wanted to, he couldn't break through the veil of numbness he was trapped in. He wished that it was different.

Much to Sting's relief, Rogue turned off the shower, deeming them clean enough to get into the now half full bath. He lowered himself into the water slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the change from cold to hot, unlike Sting, who all but dove right in.

"Go ahead and chuck it in," he said, giving Sting the bath bomb, hoping that fiddling with the packaging would de-stress him a bit as well. He took in Sting's expressions, the concentration on his face as he peeled away the plastic layer and aimed for the trash bin to throw it away.

Sting missed and apologized immediately, "Sorry, I'll go pick it up and throw it out-" he got up, but Rogue grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"Later," he told him softly. He could care less about leaving a mess right now. He just wanted them both to relax and enjoy the bath.

Sting gave him another weak smile and dropped the bath bomb into the water, watching absently as it fizzed and gave off a deep purple color and the scent of lavender.

"Please don't be mad at me," he mumbled, seemingly out of nowhere, causing Rogue to once again tense up with nerves as he wondered what he should be mad about. Not quite knowing how to filter his racing thoughts to form a response, he just reached out to grab Sting's hand under the water and waited for him to continue.

"I just-I don't know…I want to be there for you, but I don't know how and it's frustrating me. I guess I've been taking out those frustrations on my runs."

Rogue nodded, having noticed that Sting had been gone a bit longer and came back more tired from running than he usually did. He wished he'd taken that more seriously as a sign.

"It hasn't really helped, though," Sting sighed, "so today I ran, and I ran, and I ran...and I ended up near the studio. I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to go into that alley, but I did, and it really fucked me up."

Rogue flinched, just thinking back to that place, feeling the cold, rough bricks against the back of his head all over again. Smelling the rain and seeing a flash of a dirty wall with a work of artistic vandalism on it.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't want to talk about it, and I get that. I can't even begin to fathom how it must be for you if it's already having such a big effect on me, but that's just the problem. I can't ignore the effect it's having on me anymore."

Rogue could only keep nodding and feel terrible for how difficult he'd been making this. What would he have done if it had been the other way around? If Sting had been the one assaulted and he'd be the one experiencing the fallback of it?

Rogue wished he could say he'd know the right thing to do, what even was the right thing to do when it was all just so wrong?

"I-" Sting hesitated, taking a deep breath as he readied himself to go on, "I called my dad," he finally spilled, "and I told him everything."

Rogue let that sink in. The first reaction he had to it was a deep sense of shame, giving him the desire to shrink into himself. He liked Sting's parents a lot and hated to think about how this might change their opinion about him.

"What, uhm, what did he say?" Rogue stammered, not noticing he'd begun to shake until he felt Sting's arms surround him and heard the word Easy whispered in his ear until he stopped.

"Mostly, he just listened. He's upset that it happened, and uhm, maybe a bit worried about you," Sting cleared his throat nervously, "but he told me I had to let you deal with it in your own way, even if I didn't agree with how you're going about it."

Rogue had to admit he was surprised by that, he'd expected a doctor to demand he undergo some sort of treatment, and he was immensely grateful, even though that advice didn't help Sting's situation any.

"Still, he must think I'm pretty stupid for not doing anything," Rogue mumbled, wondering what his relationship with Sting's father would be like now that he knew about what had happened.

"He thinks no such thing, and you don't have to worry about my mom finding out, he promised to keep it between us," Sting sighed, "He just- he wants us both to get better."

Rogue felt Sting shift in the tub until he was gazing at him earnestly, "I want that too. I love you, none of this changes that. But-," Sting looked away for a moment before fixing him with a determined expression," I need to talk about it, to work through my own guilt and anger before it has the chance to tear us apart."

Rogue wanted to assure him that there was nothing for him to feel guilty about, but Sting wasn't finished, "I made an appointment to speak to a psychiatrist, I'm meeting him tomorrow."

Those words were enough to silence him. He wanted to protest because Sting shouldn't have to go that far just to be with him, but he was also filled with admiration for his boyfriend. He wasn't floundering in the shadows. It had taken him all of one week to go from there's a problem to actively trying to fix it, and it was a worldview that was so alien to Rogue.

How many times in his life had he just ignored problems until they either went away on their own or the decision was taken out of his hands? It was the only way he knew how to be, this was really the first time that approach hadn't really worked. They'd be spending their first time naked in a hot tub together a lot differently if it had, not to mention what should've been the summer of a lifetime.

But the summer wasn't over yet, and Rogue wanted to make the best of the time they had left before they were bogged down with school. If Sting was doing his best effort to improve their situation, then so should he. The idea of going to therapy still sent him into a panic, but the least he could do was take better care of himself. Shower and get dressed every day, even if he ended up staying at home. Stop skipping meals and eat more regularly. Maybe he could pick up his workouts again or try tagging along with Sting for morning runs if he could manage to fix his sleep schedule a bit.

It all sounded so simple, but he knew it wasn't going to be since he'd struggled with it all week. Still, he was determined to try. He'd have to start somewhere, and with that in mind, he vowed that the first thing he'd do once he was out of the bath was to shave off that awful stubble.

The water in the tub had finally risen past the jets, so Rogue turned it off while thinking about what he wanted to say. "I love you too," he responded simply, "and if talking to someone about what happened is what you need, then that's what you should do."

"Thanks," Sting offered him a small smile, already looking more untroubled than he had when he'd first arrived, making Rogue glad he'd offered his approval even if he understood Sting didn't need it.

They lay together in the warm water, just holding each other as the jets came to life, letting them massage their tired bodies into a state of relaxation, one that hopefully would stay with them for a while.

0-0

Even though Sting had talked to the man he was about to meet on the phone the previous day, he still felt nervous, unsure of what to expect. He'd never gone to a therapist before, although he'd never been against the idea. Ever since he was young, his father had drilled into him that healing the mind was just as critical as healing the body, and he accepted that as fact. It was one of the reasons he had so much trouble understanding Rogue's reluctance to getting help.

Despite the pain in his legs, Sting had decided to walk to Magnolia Bean, the coffee shop they'd agreed to meet at, in the hopes it would help him organize his thoughts so he didn't sound like a raving lunatic when they talked. There was so much he wanted to get out, and he knew, of course, that he wouldn't be able to get through it all in one meeting.

Arriving at the coffee shop sooner than he would have liked, he scanned the customers. Dr. Aileron had told him he'd know him the second he saw him, and Sting couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of test. No one really drew his attention. It was the usual mix of weekend shoppers, couples, and friends hanging out. A few people were sitting with their laptops open, and he focused on these first, assuming the doctor would have been working.

It was only on his second scan that Sting noticed the man who was sitting in one of the coveted armchairs, seemingly scanning the room as he sipped his oversized mug. He was older, with a bald head which was nowhere as attention-grabbing as the clothes he was wearing, a pair of striped shorts in bright hues of pink and purple, topped by what could only be described as a magenta cami with wings peeking from either side of his rather broad shoulders. Somehow Sting knew he had found his man, and all his nerves vanished, figuring someone who dressed like that probably gave precisely zero fucks about what anyone thought. He sure as hell wasn't going to judge.

He walked straight up to him and, with a grin, introduced himself, "Dr. Aileron? I'm Sting Eucliffe."

"Call me Bob," the man replied instantly, returning his smile, "and of course you are, you're the spitting image of your father! How is old Weisslogia doing?"

"Pretty good, working hard as always, he's been volunteering long hours at the clinic," Sting responded, trying to decide whether he wanted coffee or not as he examined the long line.

"Ah yes, the clinic, I did some volunteering there myself some years ago," Bob peered at him with a smile, "Sit down, sit down!"

Sting sat in the chair across from the psychiatrist, not entirely sure how he was supposed to act." Do you often see patients here?"

Bob laughed, "Well, technically you're not a patient yet, you are my friend's son, but no, I have an office nearby. I like to hold patient interviews here, though. I find meeting in a familiar place is more relaxing, a lot of people feel anxious when faced with the office. They go in expecting to see the fabled couch."

"You don't have a couch?" Sting asked, puzzled. He had to admit that was what he'd envisioned too.

"I do, and a bean bag and a lot of other things, truth be told it's kind of a circus in there." Bob waved his hand at one of the baristas to get her attention, "Karen honey, can you make my friend here a..." he looked at Sting with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhm, coconut vanilla latte with extra sugar," Sting recited, surprised by Bob's amused snort.

"A coconut vanilla latte with extra sugar, hell, add some whipped cream while you're at it and put it on my tab, "Bob finished his request, "I might as well live vicariously through you, that much sugar would probably kill me."

The woman set to work on the order immediately, making Sting wonder just how often Bob was in here.

"So Sting, son of my dear friend, what is it that brings you to me?" Bob asked, calmly taking another sip from his coffee. "I know you told me Weisslogia recommended you talk to me, but I want to assure you that anything you tell me will remain confidential. I won't be calling him to give him any reports of our sessions."

"It's okay, he already knows everything," Sting explained," he felt you'd be able to help me."

Bob smiled at that, seemingly happy that Weisslogia held so much confidence in his abilities and waited for Sting to speak.

Sting tried to figure out how to phrase everything he wanted to say, fully conscious of Bob's observing eyes. The silence was only interrupted by the appearance of Karen delivering Sting's coffee. He waited for her to return to the counter before speaking.

"Well, you see, my boyfriend was sexually assaulted by his ex while I was back home and he refuses to deal with it, he's not sleeping and -"

"Let me stop you right there," Bob leaned forward, his expression turning serious, "I'm not here for your boyfriend, I'm here for you. Therapy isn't something that can be done through middlemen, and it certainly can't be forced. If he would like to get help I would be more than happy to find some time to see him, or even both of you if you wanted to do some couples therapy, but otherwise, I want to hear about you, or at the very least about how the situation is affecting you."

"I-," Sting was at a loss for words. Could he really do that? Just talk about his own feelings while Rogue continued to struggle...His father had said something similar, but it still felt selfish on his part to be talking to someone about how all of this made him feel, shouldn't he be finding Rogue help instead? He considered the idea of couples therapy briefly but immediately knew Rogue would never agree.

"We have to take care of ourselves before we can take care of others," Bob interrupted his thoughts, "People tend to forget that."

"I just, I don't know what to do," Sting admitted, "I feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells, afraid I'm going to make things worse."

"That sounds like a very stressful way to live," Bob affirmed, "But you have to understand sexual assault is a very tricky thing, especially in regards to men. Our society imposes so many unrealistic expectations and ideas on what it means to be a man. It makes it that much harder to admit or accept that such a thing can happen to them."

"I just want to help him, but the more I try, the more distant he gets," Sting clenched his fists in frustration, "and I feel so much anger on his behalf, and guilt and I can't help but wonder… would it have happened if I hadn't left? I worry all the time, what if this is the thing that breaks us?"

His eyes turned misty at the thought, "I left everything to be with him, Bob. He's my future. I don't want to lose that, but when I look in his eyes lately… it's like no one's home."

"I sometimes forget how urgent young love is, but there's no need to fret just yet," Bob smiled kindly. "I think you'll find talking to me about what's bothering you and finding different ways to work through your emotions without burdening him with them will already help your situation immensely. Remember, this happened to him, not you. You can't make him responsible for your reactions to it."

It was such a simple idea, and it made sense. Had he been trying to do that? Sting thought about why it was so important for him to talk to Rogue about what had happened.

He had to admit that while he obviously wanted his boyfriend to start moving forward, he also couldn't discount that among other things he was looking for some kind of absolution of guilt from Rogue, and he was ashamed.

"We're all only human, Sting," Bob pointed out, "There's always room for improvement. That said, I think we have a lot to work on. How do Tuesday afternoons sound?"

"That should be fine," Sting assured him, finally taking a sip from his coffee. Just knowing he was going to have a place where he could talk about his feelings was already making him feel less stressed.

"Wonderful," Bob mumbled, pulling out his phone and making some quick notes on it. He grabbed a business card from a hidden pocket in his case and handed it to Sting, his appointment already written on it in neat handwriting.

"What if Tuesdays hadn't worked for me?" Sting chuckled.

"Well, then I would have had to do some reshuffling," Bob grinned, "Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Now tell me," Bob gazed at him intently, "Does your mother still make that heavenly strawberry rhubarb pie?"

Sting laughed out loud at the unexpected question, "She does, treat me well, and I might just put in a good word for you."

Bob gave a high pitched giggle, "Oh, you! I think we're going to get along just fine."

They spent another twenty minutes chatting about his parents and Bob's time in Edolas until his time was up. Sting left after buying some treats for Rogue, enjoying the walk home and feeling more relaxed than he had since reading the journal. He looked forward to his appointment on Tuesday.

0-0

Rogue waited for Sting to come home after his first appointment, not really sure what to expect. He hated feeling like he'd driven Sting to therapy, and he couldn't quite understand why his boyfriend seemed so comfortable with the whole thing when the mere idea of sharing his most intimate thoughts with someone made his stomach clench in discomfort.

He certainly wasn't expecting Sting to return smiling and carting takeout from their favorite restaurant.

"Hey, Babe!" Sting greeted, placing the bags on the counter and offering Rogue a quick kiss before searching for plates and utensils.

"You're in a good mood," Rogue noted, "I take it your appointment went well."

"It did," Sting beamed as he grabbed some sodas from the fridge, "I really like him, he's very easy to talk to."

Rogue grabbed the styrofoam containers from the bags, dividing the contents onto two plates. He'd been about to put them on the dining room table when Sting surprised him once again by opening the dining room's sliding door and calling out, "It's a really nice day, let's eat out here!"

Rogue followed, relieved to see Sting acting more like his usual self. "Wow, this guy must be really good," he joked as he handed one of the plates over and sat on one of the oversized deck chairs.

"Yeah, he gave me a few things to think about before next Tuesday, but I actually had a lot of fun just talking to him. Turns out, he's known my parents for a long time and had some good stories."

Rogue couldn't help but wonder if that had been part of the reason Sting's father had suggested he see him. In all his excitement at having Sting arrive, he'd completely forgotten that his boyfriend had left a lot of things behind to be with him. The familiar guilt tried to exert its influence, but he fought it off, reminding himself that Sting had done so because he'd wanted to. Because they were miserable without the other.

"Do you miss home?"

"It's only been a few weeks, but I do miss Yukino, and my parents," Sting admitted, hurrying to add, "but I don't regret moving here, I'm right where I want to be."

Rogue smiled at Sting's words, "Thank you."

"For what?" Sting asked in between bites.

"I know it hasn't been like we'd planned, but I am so glad you're here."

"Of course, it's where I belong," Sting said matter-of-factly, stretching out his hand until he found Rogue's and then lacing their fingers together.

The words were so casually spoken, but Rogue understood the love and trust they implied nonetheless, and silently made a promise to himself that he’d do his damndest to be worthy of that. 

 “It is.” 

[cph-dreaming]

Extract/dribbles # 14/1 (@boysrunaway this one is for you)

Sander decided to walk back to the Academie dragging his bike along. He had time enough before his appointment with Finn. Sometimes after sessions with his psychiatrist he felt nothing at all. But today had been hard. He took out his phone and sent an identical text to Robbe and his mother:

“I’m going back to the Academie to work. It was tough today.”

Normally all the talking at their sessions was up to Sander which often resulted in an hour spent in near silence. Today had been different with his psychiatrist not only talking about that missing filter, but also about how a diagnosis wasn’t a static thing. That they didn’t like his prolonged periods of depression and had decided to put Sander on new meds, that he would have to monitor how they affected him, that he had an obligation to himself now, that... Sander felt drained. And he still had to meet up with Finn to finish his Valentine’s Day gift for Robbe.

Sander hated Valentine’s Day. The whole idea that there was one day a year, an arbitrary date in the calendar set by corporate straight white men, where he had to buy flowers and chocolates to the love of his life just made him want to puke and spray paint the whole facade of McDonald’s at the Meir. He scrolled through his Bowie playlists on Spotify and put on “I’m afraid of Americans”.

But what about Robbe? Sander had spent sleepless nights staring at his boyfriend. What if Robbe didn’t feel that way about Valentine’s Day? In his heart he knew that Robbe wouldn’t anticipate anything. His boyfriend never burdened him with untold expectations, just graciously accepting whatever Sander seemed fit to give him. Did he ever ask for anything? The fourteenth could likely pass by without Robbe ever noticing. Well, unless he bought flowers and chocolates for his mamma. Robbe would probably do that, wouldn’t he?

Robbe deserved a proper present, especially after their gift-less Christmas. It had been Robbe’s decision, of course, ever the observant one. He had known that Sander didn’t have the mental reserves to go out looking for Christmas gifts, so they had decided that their present for each other would be the lock on the Mr. Lovelock bridge. “You’re more than enough gift for me,” he had said, echoing Sander’s text from days earlier. And he had stolen a sketch from Sander on Boxing Day. Picking it out of Sander’s bag and looking at him with a mischievous smile, he had asked “It’s us, isn’t it? Our lips?” Sander had tried to take the piece of paper from him, tried to explain that it was a sketch, some new style he was trying out, that he didn’t really like it himself, but Robbe had looked at him with such a tender expression on his face that melted all of Sander’s reserve when he asked “Can I keep it?” Sander had only replied, that if Robbe really wanted to keep that piece of trash, then he expected Robbe to frame it and hang it above his bed. Robbe had, of course he had.

So Sander had decided already weeks before that he wanted to paint a new picture for Robbe to hang above his bed. A real picture. A picture Sander would be proud of seeing. And Valentine’s Day seemed like a fine occasion, no matter how much he hated the concept. But it had to be something special, something he hadn’t done before. No more pencil and charcoal. And another mural was out of the question. Robbe already felt intimidated enough by the one at the Waagnatie, especially since it had been decided that it wouldn’t be removed. Sander still had an inkling that Jens and the other boys had been behind that petition.

Sander had sketched and sketched, drawing out every possible idea he had. In the end he had decided on a portrait of the both of them. Well, if one could call anything a portrait when no faces were involved. But to Sander it was a portrait of their love. Even the size of the final sketch was different from most of the things Sander had worked with before, the dimensions being 100x50 cm. And he had no idea how to proceed from there. Could he find a canvas suited to what he wasn’t even sure he had in mind? He went to Professor Mathysen for help one day during class.

“Watercolours, Mr. Driesen, watercolours are what you are looking for,” Pieter told him.

“Yeah, that’s not really my...”

“It’s the perfect medium for what you’re trying to convey! If you have the guts, that is,” his professor said with a provocative smile. “Ask the hobbit for help.”

“The hobbit?” Sander was confused.

“Yes, Finn, the guy over there,” Pieter replied, pointing at one of the other students. “Ask him to show you the piece he made of his friend from the Netherlands. Between us, there actually are other people in your class besides you who know what they’re doing!”

So Sander had approached his classmate. It wasn’t that Sander had never talked to him before. He had smiled at him, said hello when they had met, hadn’t he? Sander had always tried to be kind to his fellow students but with everything happening since he had enrolled in September he knew his classmates saw him as being reserved, if not arrogant.

He wasn’t really that short, Sander thought to himself, studying the slender boy working at his easel. He was the same height as Robbe and had the same delicate features, but the hair colour was light brown. In the light of the class room there was a golden shine to it.

“Sorry, I don’t want to bother you, but Professor Mathysen said, I should ask to see a portrait you made of a friend of yours?”

His classmate didn’t reply but with a slight blush on his cheeks went over to his portfolio bag and retrieved a carton enfolding, handing it over. Sander carefully opened it and looked at the picture with genuine astonishment. Pieter had been right. Sander knew what he was watching was not a mere casualty of an attempt to paint. It was pure talent.

“This is... this is really beautiful!” He said with reverence in his voice.

“He is,” his classmate replied quietly. Sander looked into a pair of green eyes, that had a pain in them he knew all to well.

“Ok, I’ll carry your bag to school, fuck that, I’ll carry you to school every day for the next month if you’ll help me! I’m Sander,” he tried with one of his persuasive smiles.

“Do you even own a marten-hair brush?” There was a crooked smile on the young man’s face. “I’m Finn.” Sander knew he couldn’t have asked for better help.

[aphalleos]

Unexpected Pregnancy: Sweden x Alleos

Kinda based on a convo I had regarding if Alleos got pregnant with @darkest-shadows-of-scandinavia . Hilda wouldn’t be happy and would go to all sorts of extremes to avoid having a child.

1258 words, and there is essentially suicide in this!

Hilda was in tears. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. She looked down to the little device in her hands and broke down again. Throwing the device across the room, she rested her head in her knees and sobbed. This didn’t go unnoticed; a special someone who had been making his way specifically to check on her had heard the sobbing. That someone was Berwald. Knowing something was up, he entered the room without hesitation.

“Hilda?” said Berwald urgently. Sitting next to her on the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “Hilda, please tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t like you at all.” The whole Nordic family was well aware that she hadn’t been feeling the best as of late-- vomiting frequently, fatigue before her watch would reach low charge, headaches, violent mood swings… things of the like. Initially, it was assumed that Eduard was attacking her again. However, deep in her heart Hilda knew damn well it was something more.

Reluctantly, Hilda moved from his arms and over to the wall where the device hit. Then she went to the trash can to retrieve a few more similar devices, and soon enough Berwald was able to put together what they were. Those devices she held were none other than pregnancy tests. Mouth agape and eyes wide, he looked up to Hilda, who handed the devices over. “Read them.”

Berwald’s hands were trembling as he took the devices, and surely enough-- they were positive. “Hilda, I…” Berwald, on one hand, really wanted to start a family of his own with the woman he loved. However, he knew Hilda didn’t like kids. She was awkward enough around Peter and Erland as it was, but maybe now that she was going to have her own that would change?

“This… this is the worst thing that could happen. I fear it would be too late to abort it.”

His heart dropped. “Well, why don’t we go to a doctor before assuming anything?”

To the suggestion, Hilda nodded desperately. Without hesitation, Berwald went off to make an appointment, just for the very next day.

FFW to after the appointment…

Now Hilda was a complete and total mess. The doctor had confirmed that yes, she was pregnant, and she was too far along to abort it. For Hilda, that only meant one thing-- she would have to deal with the physical trauma it would cause to her body to deliver it. Not to mention how mentally fucked up she already was from all of this…

Without another word, she stormed past the family before anybody could ask what was up, entering the little pocket world and travelling from Copenhagen to Alleos with ease.

“Is she okay?!” Matthias asked urgently. He was about to go after Hilda, but Berwald quickly grabbed a hold of his arm.

“Leave her be. She… she needs some time alone.”

Matthias heaved a heavy sigh. Hilda could be a handful, but he felt the need to know what was going on. “Fine. Just… please tell me what’s going on. She’s my kid after all, I just need to make sure she’s okay.”

Berwald hesitated, but eventually spoke up. It was important that the whole family understand why she was in such a terrible place at the moment. “To keep it short… she’s pregnant. She didn’t know how far along she was until today, and she doesn’t want to keep it. But… it’s too late to do anything about it.”

This left the whole family crushed and speechless. Everybody stared at Berwald, unable to find anything to say.

FFW a few days-- with Hilda…

Hilda was in a bit of an emotional frenzy. Well, reasonably so-- she valued her life as it was. To have a child, especially when she was so young, was a nightmare come true for her. Why did she have to be one of the unfortunate few to not even know she was pregnant until it was too late?!

Already, the stress had become too much. She couldn’t take this, and there was no way in hell she’d be able to live with knowing that she destroyed her body for something she didn’t even want. Hell, as far as she knew, she couldn’t have even gotten pregnant!

Her mind was racing, until she made it to her office. Her gaze fell onto that one sacred area-- the networking closet. With no hesitation, she made her way over and signed into the client computer. With just a little bit of tweaking, she was able to disable all firewalls and antivirus, leaving the network completely vulnerable. With her heart pounding and adrenaline pumping through her body, she then used her personal computer to sign into a few… more than shady websites, posting the IP address and other network credentials. She informed people to attack the network with whatever they had; preferably something so devastating that would damage the network beyond repair. Seeing as she was cyber based, this really was the only way for her to go.

People jumped on the opportunity as she expected, and she laid down on the couch as she waited. It didn’t take long at all for the pain to begin hitting her-- and by god it was excruciating. Immediately, she recoiled, curling up into a ball as she hissed in pain. Tears had already sprung up to her eyes and started dripping from them. The pain was like no other she’d ever felt. However, she remained almost completely silent. She just… writhed in the pain, right there on her couch. Her phone rang and buzzed with calls and texts, but just like the last few days she blatantly ignored it all.

It didn’t take long at all for a sense of peace to wash over her, and her body relaxed. Her mind went just about completely blank, and she knew the feeling-- everything was being erased entirely. The network and its data would soon enough cease to exist.

With Berwald...

Berwald could feel in his bones that something was up. He’d called and texted Hilda almost endlessly during the last few days. And, as she usually did when she was having a bit of an episode, she refused to answer or even read anything. It was only this fateful day Berwald just knew something was wrong-- perhaps fatally wrong. He spoke no words as he exited the estate, rushing over to Alleos and near breaking the door in with ease. There he found his Hilda on the couch, looking spaced out as ever.

Oh no.

He could already tell this wasn’t good.

“Hilda…?” his quiet voice rumbled as he made his way over. He touched her hand, and she just barely gazed over to him.

“Ber… I’m sorry…” her voice trailed off, and her eyes fluttered shut. Like that, the server was just… completely dead. It had been destroyed beyond repair and then it just ceased to exist.

Berwald just remained in his position, completely at a loss and in shock. She was once as happy as she could have been with the Nordics, and he knew her too well to know that she really did go out of her way to cause this. Entirely out of the fear of having a child…

Berwald began crying, and boy the tears showed no damn sign of stopping. Now he was in pain, and it was like no pain he’d ever felt before. That said a lot considering how long he’d been around for.

“Hilda, I’m sorry.”

[tsukishima44]

For you, I give my all

It’s Hizashi’s birthday in a month. After knowing the blonde for more than 10 years, he didn’t know what else to give for his wonderful birthday. A scandal gave him an idea though.

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

1 month before H day

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

‘It’s Zashi’s birthday soon’

THWACK!

‘What should I get for him this year?’

A sounding yell from the right.

‘Should I buy him another cake?’

“YOU FU-“

POW!

‘Maybe Mochi want to wear a suit again?’

“OUCH OUCH! FUCK! DAMN! YOU WIN LET GO!”

“Nope. Not until the police came”

‘We have groom suit last year’

“Eraserhead-san! Thank you for your work! Please leave him here and we will send the fee as usual”

He nodded. He looped his capture weapon into one of the streetlight and made his way back home.

‘Mermaid?’

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

2 weeks before H day

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

“Shota!!”

Aizawa looked up from Jirou’s work. He was very glad to see more black rather than red. Very refreshing or as refreshing as it could be for his dry eyes. Certainly better than Kaminari’s.

“What?”

His best friend of 15 years must have seen the happiness radiating from him. She casually slung her arm on his shoulders. She looked up, glancing right and left. Then she whispered.

“Have you find a present for your hubby?”

They have been married for more than 5 years and magically keep it quiet despite their jobs. Nemuri, Tensei, and Nedzu were the only people there and the only people knew about it.

“Nope. I was thinking about getting a cake”

“Cat cake?”

He nodded.

“And-“

“-Mochi catwalking in a suit”

Aizawa glared at her. Of course being best friend for years meaning understanding his circumstances.

“You shouldn’t make things easy to guess, honey”

“Don’t call me that!”

Nemuri moved out of the way when Aizawa’s hand about to slap her arm.

“Well you better search for something better because it’s two more weeks”

Aizawa huffed.

“I know, I know”

Nemuri sauntered to her next prey.

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

3 days before H day

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

Aizawa placed a full stop on his last sentence, or might be what he last wrote in 5 minutes. From outside he looked as calm as a still lake. Inside he was burning with firy passion or what he ashamedly called jealousy.

Just yesterday, when he was searching for a venue to celebrate his secret spouse birthday in the newest tabloid, Hi Hero!, rather than a great cafe or family restaurant he found the picture of his husband in his full in hero costume. Underneath it was a big headline “PRESENT MIC OR PRESENT WED!?!” Let’s just say it didn’t take him 5 minutes to double read it and tore it to pieces. It was only a gossip column about a beautiful woman with black long hair and curves in the right places was seen having a deep conversation. Said journalist also mentioned about the many intimate touches during the meeting.

He had think about it again and again. Was it right for him to get mad? Afterall, Hizashi only heeded Aizawa’s wish to keep their marriage under the table. He was the one who asked to place the ring on a necklace than in their ring fingers. He was the one who decline one invitation to another invitation of Hizashi’s radio party. So was it wrong for Hizashi to find a woman, to cheat him? There must be someone out there who deserve him more that Shouta did. Someone that look amazing, eye candy than dry eyes and baggy clothes and unruly hair. Someone with perfect curves than big muscles. Someone funny enough to match his comedic side. Someone who— someone who wasn’t Aizawa Shouta.

“Sensei?!”

Aizawa looked up.

‘When did he sit?’

“Fuck! Get the teachers!”

“I’m on it!”

“Why is he crying?”

‘I am?’

“Did-did we do something?”

“Oh no, poor sensei”

‘It’s not me. It’s poor Hizashi’

Just then, the door to he classroom opened and a pair of hands holding him.

“Shouta? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Aizawa saw blurry mess of black and yellow. Two big and familiar hands cupped his face tenderly. He smelled the most amazing scent in the world, a mix of leather and pine wood. He wanted these. He wanted Hizashi to be by his side forever. Until they have white strands, until it bald, until they retire into old men, until the day they went to heaven together.

The day ended with half lesson, a worried pack of students, a lecture followed with hugs and kisses from Hizashi.

But still with no present.

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

6 hours before the H day

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

Knock! Knock!

“Oh hey, Ochako-chan!”

“Hi, Izuku! Sorry for bothering you. Did you get the message?”

“Yeah. Rikido has climbed down the stairs and Bakugou’s cussed was heard even from here. I’m about to go to supermarket to buy other supplies. Momo and several others are going with me”

“Can I join you guys?”

“Sure”

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

H Day

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

A flurry of footsteps was heard in the one of U.A’s empty hallway. It has been an hour and half since the last students passed the front gate and went back home. The afternoon light painted broken white wall into a beautiful mix of orange, yellow, and red. One pro-hero was on his way to the supposedly empty classroom. When he opened the classroom, another pro-hero, underground, stood in the middle, looking as shabby as he usually did. But in his green orbs, his husband always a sight to behold, a pearl among trash. Stunning, wonderful, an eye candy. He was blessed to have the honor and call this man his.  

“Sho? You’re ready?”

Hizashi didn’t need to give his everyday Present Mic’s greeting. His raven beauty of a husband always knew when he would arrive to go home each day. But today he was surprised to find his spouse of 5 years message him to come and get him, 30 minutes before their appointed time.

“Zashi...”

Shouta called him, beckoning him closer.

Like a moth to a flame, Hizashi was attracted.

“What is it? Are you sick? Something’s wrong?”

Hizashi arrived in front of Shouta, hands immediately took others without any preamble. One of them quickly assessed Shouta’s health.

Was he sick? He looked fine today. Was something amiss? He had made sure everything was okay and ready today.

“Zashi..”

Shouta placed his hands on top of his which were planted on both of Shouta’s perfect cheeks.

When did they move there?

“Happy birthday”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SENSEIIII!!!!!!”

It was a loud popping sound, colorful triangles, and so many cheers around him. He looked to his left and right and found the kids, their unofficial kids, stood before their hiding places and clapping and yelling and cheering. A glance from Shouta’s shoulder was a decent size cake with yellow frosting -his favourite color!- and adorning it were several radio-shaped fondant. On the top layer, he gasped aloud, were two fondant, created to shape like chibi version of him and Shouta. They were holding hands together and below it was several small figures, their handful kids. Then he looked straight once again. His husband, Aizawa Shouta, was sporting one of his smirk which quickly melted into his fond smile when he realized that Hizashi’s eyes were upon him.

“Oh wow.... Shou, I-God, If we haven’t married yet I would marry you again and again in a heartbeat”

Shouta thrown his head as he laughed freely.

“Me too, Zashi, me too”

Then he had a line of students queuing to shake his hands, given him small trinkets and other things they thought pass as a gift. On the end of the line was Shinsou and Eri, giving him a new headphone and a handmade bracelet.

After the party started, he went to find the conductor of this surprise birthday party. As expected, he was standing in the corner of the room, still trying to blend in the dark. Not very effective as every corner of the classroom was filled with color from a disco ball hung in the middle, how he missed such a big decoration was amazing.

“Hey, husband”

Shouta smiled.

He casually slipped his arm into Shouta’s waist.

“Hey yourself”

Hizashi kissed Shouta’s cheek.

“Does that mean that we are out?”

Shouta nodded

“I also told your colleague in the radio station. Now they can put my name on the invitation party”

“Are you sure?”

“You know I will not do anything I am not sure of”

Hizashi smiled back and kissed Shouta deeply and as less sensually as he could.

“Happy birthday, Zashi”

“Thank you, Sho!!”

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay - chapter eight

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

A/N - Just for now, I’m trialing not putting in chapter links on this post to see if it helps more people see it since the tumblr search function cuts out posts with links. If there’s not a big difference, I’ll put them in later, but to see the first chapter if you’re a new reader, please click on my blog and check out my masterlist.

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER EIGHT ↳Your delightful encounter ends up leaving a bitter taste in your mouth when Jimin doesn’t respond the way you’d hoped. But perhaps a new source of comfort is around the corner.

Maybe it was too much to ask for you to just have one good day. It felt like after every good thing, there was a disaster around the corner just waiting to happen so that you didn’t get too happy.

In this case, it was your car breaking down on the side of the road ten minutes outside of town after you and Jimin fucked in a scummy bathroom like animals.

He was remarkably calm and collected about the whole ordeal as the two of you hung out in a ditch with smoke billowing from your hood, but maybe it was because he just had the soul sucked out of him less than half an hour ago.

You, on the other hand, had long left behind the post-orgasm bliss and were desperately holding back angry tears as your car was towed away, and a taxi was called out to take the two of you home.

The mechanics told you it would cost a small fortune to fix your shitty vehicle, but you had no other choice. You lived far enough from your workplace that walking or cycling wasn’t really an option, and you were too proud to take the bus. Besides, you had Jungkook to worry about too.

It only took a couple of hours to fix, but it took more out of your savings account than was put in from working every day for the past two months. If you were a more stubborn woman, perhaps you’d scowl and mutter about it practically being highway robbery, but instead you found yourself in the lobby of the local accounting firm, asking if you could have an appointment with Mr. Min Yoongi.

It was foolish of you to invite a freeloader into your home, acting like you were an upper middle-class diva when really you had just enough cushioning to feel a little secure.

Now, with your car using up more money than you had, you realized just how sad your finances were looking. You couldn’t even afford to hire an accountant, but you didn’t know where else to go. At least he could give you some advice, or something like that.

“What a delightful surprise,” he drawled when you were led into his fancy-schmancy corner office, “to what do I owe the honor?”

“It’s nothing to do with work. I just need some personal help with my finances.”

He adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and steepled his fingers together. “Hmm. I find that being an accountant is much like being a doctor or a dentist. People only come to me when something’s gone wrong.”

“You’d be correct. Only problem is, I don’t have enough money to even hire you to help. I was just hoping maybe you could give me some advice.” You cleared your throat and avoided his gaze. “Hoseok told me about you two. I don’t suppose you’re interested in taking on another…client?”

He narrowed his eyes at you as your gaze burned a hole in the carpet. “Are you propositioning me in my place of work?”

“…Mhm.”

“Tell you what,” he declares, “I’ll take you on as a pro-bono client as long as you promise to never fucking do that again.” His tone is deadpan but luckily not angry or insulted.

“Got it, chief.”

“Don’t do that, either.”

“Uh- Thank you, sir?”

He nods thoughtfully. “That’ll do. Anyway, pro-bonos look pretty great on the CV apparently, and I’ve always been too much of a cold-hearted asshole to do them before, so, it’ll work out for the both of us.” He unlinks his hands and scribbles a post-it note, tucking it away in a thick leather-bound planner. He sighs. “And please ask Hoseok not to speak of his sexual relations with me.”

You pause. “Is that another condition for you helping me?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then, with all due respect sir, not a fucking chance.”

He twiddles the pen in his hands and stares down at it in resignation. “Got it, chief.”

“Did he look hot?”

“That’s a pretty redundant question, Hobi.” “Fair. Continue.”

“Anyway, I really feel like him and I are vibing, you know? We had a little back-and-forth, we gave each other cute nicknames, he told me I warmed up his cold, dead heart…”

“I’ve been wrist deep in him, Y/n, so I’d say I know him pretty well, and there’s no fucking way he said that.”

“Maybe not in those words exactly,” you concede, chucking your empty paper cup in the trash can at his feet.

Work was a little slow today, so you had gotten permission from Namjoon to ‘help Hoseok tidy up his work space’, which just meant you and him chilling out behind the desk for an hour, chatting about whatever.

“Anyway, where’s Jimin?”

Hobi shrugs. “He went home early. Probably caught his dick in the vending machine again or something stupid like that.”

You grin. “That’s a shame, it was perfectly functional last time I checked.”

“Well, you know Jimin, al- Wait! What?” Hoseok’s eyes are comically wide, and he’s staring at you like you’ve given him a million dollars. “I cannot believe you let me sit here, discussing my sugar daddy for an hour before letting me know that! You little minx, tell me all about it!”

After spending another twenty minutes explaining the precise physics of your sexual encounter, Hobi finally let you leave to go do rounds again, but before you went back to Namjoon’s office, you tucked yourself away in the storage closet to make a phone call.

He picks up after the first ring. “Hey, baby,” his husky voice answers, and you just about melt right then and there.

“Jimin, how come you didn’t come to work today? I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

He grunts, and you frown at the muffled noises coming through the receiver. “I knew that if I saw you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.” He lets out a dreamy sigh. “I can’t even control myself now,” he murmurs.

“What do you-” You hear a wet smacking sound repeating rhythmically, and Jimin grunts again. “Are you seriously jerking off right now?”

He laughs breathily, but it catches on a moan. “Yeah, baby, when I came to work, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I got hard right in the middle of the lobby.”

You frown. “Well, can you please…stop for now? I wanted to talk to you.”

Another whine. “We are talking.”

His breath is coming out in little pants and whimpers, and as hot as the sound is, you feel yourself getting frustrated, and not in the good way. “Seriously, Jimin, I’m trying to have a proper conversation here. I was going to ask you out to dinner, or breakfast, or whatever. I thought we should get to know each other better.”

He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to whisper sweet nothings like ‘fuck, baby’ and ‘feels so good’ over and over into the phone.

You think back to the last time you were in this closet, having a very different phone call. How Jin respected you so much that he wouldn’t even go out with you because he didn’t want you to end up disappointed. How he would forgo his own happiness to make sure you didn’t make a mistake in dating him.

And here was Jimin, jerking off like a teenager, completely uninterested in you asking him out.

You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your forehead against a shelf. “Jimin,” you whisper, unsure if he can even hear you as he gets louder and louder, “Jimin, this isn’t what I wanted. If all you want is sex, I’m not going to take part in whatever this is anymore. I don’t need a fuck buddy, I need a boyfriend. I need someone who understands me. I think you and I have misunderstood each other. I’m sorry.”

Somewhere in the middle of your monologue, he thankfully stopped, and the other end of the line was silent, except for the sound of him still breathing hard. “Baby,” he started eventually, “we haven’t misunderstood each other. I really like you. The way you sucked me off yesterday, god, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen! Give me a chance.”

“No,” you reply softly, but your tone is final. “I’ll leave you to your jacking off.”

“Baby, just-” He’s cut off as you hang up.

Surprisingly, the whole encounter with Jimin has resolved a lot of bitterness with Jin. You could understand him now, not wanting to get involved with someone who expects something you just aren’t the right person to give.

It’s that sense of closure, like you made the right decision with Jimin, and that Jin had made a good call with you, that leaves you quite content as you speed through the rest of the shift.

Jungkook excitedly whips out his laptop when you pop into the bar, showing you an online course he found that would let him study game development specifically, rather than the generalized computer programming degree. He runs you through all the different topics, aware that you had no idea what they were but perfectly happy to spend forever explaining each one in excruciating detail and then thanked you profusely for letting him live with you.

When you had returned home yesterday after the whole broken-down car fiasco, you were genuinely shocked to see your apartment still in one piece. In fact, in the time he had to himself, he had set up his room with a desk and a little bookshelf he had found at the secondhand store. He was really making the place his own, and it made you feel like a protective mother hen to see the boy so happy.

He was just as pumped today and made sure to let you know how grateful he was. Jungkook had a completely different energy about him when he was doing something he actually enjoyed.

It was only twenty minutes away from the end of your shift when Hoseok called Namjoon’s office, saying there had been a noise complaint filed against the room that Taehyung was in. Namjoon, who was steeped in paperwork and reporting, asked you to handle it, saying that sometimes Taehyung could blast music a little too loud, but he’d turn it down if you told him to. He even threw in the exclusive offer that if you went and dealt with it, you could go home early afterwards. Of course, you’d have to wait around for Jungkook to get off, but finishing early was finishing early, so you gratefully accepted.

As you made your way to the hallway of rooms, you wondered what type of music Tae liked to blast. Did he wallow in self-pity to mopey 60s music like a tortured artist, or did he know all the dance moves to the latest k-pop hits?

But the closer you got, you realized there was no music at all. The hallway was completely silent. You knocked lightly on his door, but received no response.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you really wanted to get this sorted for good and go off duty a little early, you probably would’ve walked away.

As it was, you decided to whip out your master keycard and let yourself in. It was only once you got past the threshold that you heard any noise at all.

Certainly not loud enough to warrant a noise complaint since you couldn’t even hear it yourself directly outside the door, but it was there. The second you heard it, your heart dropped into your stomach, and your gaze immediately flicked over to the far side of the room where the sounds originated.

Jimin and Tae were entwined with each other, Jimin in Tae’s arms against the wall in a cruel mockery of the time you spent with him just the day before. Taehyung hadn’t heard you come in over the sound of Jimin moaning, but since the bellboy was conveniently facing the door, he glanced up over Tae’s sweaty shoulder when you came in and grinned at you.

The room tilted a little as your vision swam with the tears that quickly built up. He really couldn’t give a shit, could he? The moment you told him you weren’t interested in sex, he went out and found somebody else.

In any other circumstance, the scene playing out would’ve been completely pornographic. Jimin, hair sticking to his forehead, stared you deep in the eyes with a sultry smugness, jerking at each devastating thrust from the man below him.

Later, when you had cried all the tears you had to give, you would be thankful that at least Namjoon asked you to go instead of walking in on his little brother and the bellboy himself. But for now, you felt stupid and ashamed and used, and it must have been some masochistic streak that caused you to stand there for what was at least a full minute, never glancing away from Jimin’s mocking gaze as he muttered sweet things into Tae’s ear and breathed in little whimpers that were harmonizing sinfully with Taehyung’s deeper grunts and groans.

You tore your eyes away once as the two men began to come undone, bolting into the hallway and slamming the door behind you.

As valiantly as you tried to remain composed until you reached the staff carpark, hot tears spattered against your cheeks as you all but ran down the hallway. Clearly there was no real noise complaint. Clearly Park Jimin knew exactly what the fuck he was doing when he got you to come to Tae’s apartment in the middle of their tryst. You always saw Jimin as a little petty but there was really no reason for him to be this cruel.

What was it you said that caused him to be this way? He was just proving the reason you called quits on whatever it was the two of you had. You were right, really; there was no way he was boyfriend material if this was how he responded to rejection.

Perhaps the worst part of this is that you couldn’t even tell anyone about it. While workplace romance wasn’t illegal, fucking your way around the hotel staff was certainly frowned upon and was sure to bring an awkward light to the night shift. There was no way you were explaining to Namjoon the situation you found his sibling in, and you had no way of knowing whether Hobi would take your side or his.

As you bawled your eyes out in anger and frustration, you weren’t keeping track of the time at all, and you just about jumped out of your skin when the passenger door opened.

“Alrightey, let’s g- Oh my god, what happened to you?”

You shook your head mutely at the boy who sat himself in the seat beside you.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to drive?”

You sniff. “Do you have your license?”

“N- No.”

“Then no.” You clear your throat a couple times and pat your red cheeks a little to sober yourself before making the awkward drive home.

Jungkook had the good graces not to ask questions in the car, or once you got home and collapsed onto the couch to resume sobbing, but by the time midday rolled around and you still hadn’t moved a muscle except to wipe your dribbling nose, he brought you a block of chocolate and sat on the couch next to you. “Please, noona, tell me something so I can help you, I hate seeing you like this.”

You chow through a row or two of comforting confectionery before you answer. “Boy troubles,” you mumble. “Not much you can do about it.”

He tucks one leg under the other so he can face you fully on the couch. “Maybe it would help to just vent. Get it all out there.”

You raise your eyebrows, but he just blinks at you with his wide eyes, completely serious. “Fine. I had sex with a guy, told him I wasn’t interested in sex if it meant nothing to him, and then he got mad and fucked somebody else as revenge. He even set me up so that I walked in on the act. Sick son of a bitch.”

“What? Isn’t revenge porn illegal? I read that somewhere,” he stated.

“It is illegal, but this wasn’t technically revenge porn, it was…revenge sex. I don’t know. I just feel so shitty that he would do something like that. And then I feel shitty for feeling shitty because I shouldn’t care about him anyway since I was the one that ended things, right?”

“I had this one girlfriend,” Jungkook mused, “who would follow me around everywhere, always wanted to have sex, always wanted to make out. And so, I did. But then she told me she’d rather not bother with the making out and just go straight to sex all the time.” He broke off, eyes distant, and shook his head slowly at the memory.

You frown. “How is this supposed to help me?”

“Oh, I guess it probably doesn’t, but I just wanted you to know I’ve had a girlfriend before, and I’ve had sex before, like, multiple times, so I get what you’re going through.”

You open your mouth to retort, but then realize you have no idea what the fuck to say to that. Your mouth closes again.

“Anyway, when we finally broke up, I was super devastated. But after a while I realized that even if I had done whatever she wanted, I wouldn’t be happy. And it was kind of better to be sad knowing that I made the right decision, than be sad and not do anything about it, you know?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Your grand thesis is that if I’m going to be miserable either way, I might as well be miserable on the moral high ground?”

He swallows and pouts a little. “Well, you’ve been having this conversation with me for the past five minutes and you’ve already stopped crying. You can’t be sad if you’re too distracted to think about your problems.”

“Your logic is very poorly constructed, but I think I see your point.”

He smiles at you, then, and leans in a little to rest his hand on yours. “If you want, I can distract you, noona.”

TAGLIST (if you wish to be added, send a message or an ask.)

@xxqueenwxtchxx

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[bedbellyandbeyond]

Sickness

(Story Post)

A morning came one day where Nathan just couldn’t get out of bed. He called his doctor hoping he’d come for a house call and thankfully Reid had a little bit of time. When he arrived at Nathan’s home, he let himself in with the key Nathan had told him was under his flower pot. He headed upstairs to find his favourite wolf-man curled up in a cocoon again. “Oh dear, what’s the matter today?” Reid asked. “You can’t get out of bed?” Nathan rolled over to face him and frowned. “They’re moving…”

Reid blinked, his eyes lighting up. “Really? Well, that’s a very good sign, Nathan.” “I hate it… They’re making me nauseous,” Nathan said. “I don’t know what to do… I think I’ll puke if I get up…” Reid sighed sympathetically. “Unfortunately, getting up is the most common cure. When you lie down, babies love to go nuts in there, but when you stand, they typically calm down.” “If I stand, I’ll puke.” “You probably won’t but I can get you a trash can or something,” Reid said. “Is there one in your bathroom?” “Should be…” Reid went and got the bin and brought it back. “Take this and get yourself up. Come on.” Nathan wrapped the blankets around himself and tucked it so it wouldn’t come off then took the trash can in one hand and let Reid pull him up with his other hand. When he was upright, he did still feel queasy, but the twins settled down after a few seconds alongside the nausea. “I’m not gonna puke,” Nathan said. “Aye. So is that all I drove out here for?” Reid asked. “Well… No…” Nathan said, looking down. “There’s something else…” “And what’s that, laddie?” Reid asked, patting Nathan’s arm. “I… Um, it’s really embarrassing…” Nathan said. “I guess, it’s uh… Ah, fuck it…” He undid the blanket, displaying the two big wet marks in his pyjama shirt. Reid put his hands on his hips. “Well, well. Your milks come in.” “But why?” Nathan asked. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re pregnant.” “But I don’t have tits!” Nathan said. “You don’t need prominent breasts to start lactating, just the right plumbing which everyone has—unless removed—and the right hormone cocktail,” Reid explained. “This was to be expected.” “Then why didn’t you tell me this would happen?” “I forgot but also I expected you to consider it before,” Reid said. “But it’s nothing to fret about. Let me take a look.” Nathan sighed and took off his shirt. He looked away as the doctor examined his chest. “They’ve definitely swollen up,” Reid said. “Are they tender?” “Yeah, really sensitive…” Nathan pouted. “Shirts feel uncomfortable rubbing against them. And I don’t know what to do with all the…all the leakage.” “Say no more. You want nursing pads,” Reid said. “There’s different kinds, but overnight ones and braless ones will likely be best.” Nathan rubbed his eye. “I’ve been to baby stores too much now… I really don’t want to go out like this.” “Laddie. Order them online,” Reid said. “It’s early morning. You could potentially have it all delivered by the end of the day. Also, get yourself a big sports bra. That’ll help a lot.” “A bra? I can’t wear a bra!” Nathan complained. “Yes you can. I believe in you. You’re not the only man who’s ever had to wear a bra. I can guarantee that.” “Oh god, how am I supposed to do all this? It’s so embarrassing and I have to do it alone,” Nathan groaned. Reid rubbed his back. “Tell me what’s on your mind. What’s troubling you most about this?” Nathan sighed deeply and sat down. “I just… Everything I expected when it came to me having kids is thrown out the window…” “What were you expecting?” Reid sat down beside him. “Well, first I thought I’d be adopting… And I thought I’d have job security. And I thought I’d be…well, married. At least, I’d have a partner helping me… Signing the papers with me. Decorating the nursery with me. Picking out clothes. But I’ve done everything alone. And I’m pregnant.” Reid rubbed his chin. “Well, have you thought about dating?” Nathan frowned. “Dating? Seriously? Like this?” He motioned to his torso. “You’d be surprised by the people who could be into that,” Reid insisted. Nathan crinkled his nose. “I don’t want to be someone’s fetish. I want someone who wants the normal me. The not fat and leaking me.” He looked down. “God, if I hadn’t…become what I am now… I’d still be with Hugh. I’d still work at my old school. We were even starting to talk about kids… I ruined everything.” “Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve heard your transformation story many times and it has always sounded like it was Hugh’s fault you were bit in the first place,” Reid said. “He took you off the path. He found the wolf cub. He chose to leave you when you needed him most.” “I tore his leg off!” Nathan growled. “I’d leave any man who tore my leg off too!” “He wouldn’t have had his leg torn off if he didn’t get you bit,” Reid stated. “You understand?” Nathan crossed his arms. “Are you pinning this on Hugh to try and make me feel better? Because it’s not working.” He gagged a little as he felt a movement in his stomach again so he stood up. “God, I want this to end…” “It’ll be over soon,” Reid said. “Rest for today.” “I can't…” Nathan rubbed his eyes. “I’ve missed work way too much… The principal acts nice about it, but I can tell she wants to kill me.” “She doesn’t want to kill you. But you need the rest. I might even say we should start you on bed rest but you’re determined to work.” “I don’t know if you noticed, but children are expensive,” Nathan said. “I can barely afford my own living situation right now. I need to work.” Reid sighed. “After the next wolf cycle, I’m putting you on bed rest. You need it and the twins need it. I can tell just by looking at you, you’re beyond exhausted.” “…Fine. That gives me three weeks,” Nathan huffed. “But that’s still so soon…” “Just keep thinking about how you’ll get to meet your little angels.” Reid placed a hand on the side of Nathan’s stomach. “I think you’ll find it’s all worth it.” Nathan exhaled deeply for a couple seconds then placed his hands on his stomach. In this sitting position, the twins had started acting up again and he could feel them moving. His stomach turned as he felt it, but he just thought about how it was his children and that every little move meant they were alive. While he still felt a little sick from the movement, it warmed his heart a little bit knowing they were safe. “…Doc.” Reid perked up. “Aye?” “I should tell my parents, right?” Reid blinked stared at Nathan. “You haven’t told your parents yet that they’re going to be grandparents?” Nathan shook his head. “…I haven’t talked to them since… Well, since my grandma’s funeral.” “Ah. Fuzzy connection?” Nathan nodded. “Very fuzzy… I came out when I was fifteen and they sent me away to live with my grandma. They thought her ‘traditional ways’ would ‘fix’ me. That backfired pretty quick. My nana was nothing but loving.” He rubbed his belly. “I wish she was here to meet her great grandkids… But I guess, that’s not common anyway…” “Mm… Aye, I wish you coulda been so lucky,” Reid sympathised. “And it’s up to you whether you believe your parents should know and be a part of this journey with you. The last thing you need though is more stress.” “Right…” Nathan sighed and stood back up to relieve the movement. “Can you let Principal Liu know I won’t be coming in today?” “I’ll do that.” Reid checked his watch. “I got to go though. I have an appointment with another patient.” “Alright, go ahead… I’m good I guess,” Nathan decided. “Thanks for coming all the way out here, doc. I guess my issue was pretty dumb…” Reid shook his head. “No, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Do you have any friends or family who can come around and check up on you?” “Um… The only person I can think of would maybe be Nari… But he’d be working, so…” “It might be worth talking to him because it’s always better to have people around if not just for emotional support.” “I guess… But Nari's… Nari can be a little…” “Stubborn and abrasive?” Reid asked. “Yeah, he’s like that. But he means well and I’m sure if he’s paid any attention to you, it means he likes you.” “I mean, I guess… He made us official friends the other day when we, uh…” Nathan scratched the back of his head. “Well, he came over to help with my laundry. Started calling me by my first name.” “Well, then you’re best buds it seems,” Reid chuckled. “Good, it’s important he makes friends too… He avoids it. You know you’re true friends when he carries you over.” “Over what?” Nathan asked. “Over lives. You must’ve heard him talk about his lives,” Reid explained. “Nari creates a new persona every couple decades to avoid people catching on to his immortality. Each new persona is usually accompanied with a big move. His first new persona moved to the UK. Then when she was done, Nari was created and he moved to Canada. What I’d like to see is either an extension in one of his personas, or at least the effort to bring over some people in his life and not just cut everyone off.” “Oh. That seems…” Nathan rubbed his chin. “Dramatic maybe?” “Yes, but you can understand. I only hope to be brought over too… I feel like he should at least consider what APID has to offer him or whoever he’ll be in the long term.” Reid checked his watch again and clenched his teeth. “Christ, I really gotta go, Nathan. But I’ll call in the afternoon, make sure you’re well.” Nathan nodded and pulled a robe on. “…Nursing pads, right?” “Aye. I’ll send you a link to some good ones from the web.” Reid went out to the stairs. “Okay… Bye then.” “Eat something. Bye now.”

[myaekingheart]

28. Ansatsu no Usagi

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3

index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               A lunch date with Naru was really nothing out of the ordinary, but there was something about the tone of her invitation today that made Rei nervous. There was a sense of confidence in her voice that she saved for the rarest occasions, ones in which something big had happened that she was wildly proud of and that needed to be revealed in the grandest of ways. Rei tried to calm her anxiety as she pulled her hair back and slid her kanzashi into the base of her ponytail. Maybe she had just started a new relationship or found a cute new dress. Rei knew these were obviously petty and nothing Naru would truly get this excited for, but she was fearful of the truth.

               She arrived at Yakiniku Q early, a byproduct of her severe anxiety. She ordered herself a tea, something soothing and hardly caffeinated, while she waited. When Naru finally did arrive, Rei’s heart leapt in her throat. The grin on her face was almost too much to bear. The blonde slid into the chair opposite her friend, thanking her profusely for meeting with her, then ordered herself some sake.

               Rei did not like to consider herself a selfish person. She truly wanted her friends to be happy, and this was no exception. Whatever Naru had to say, she was glad things were going well. This likely didn’t even have anything to do with her, and yet she still found herself feeling anxious. She just wanted to get it over with already. She cleared her throat, took another sip of tea, then asked, “So, what’s all this about? What’s the big news?”

               Naru was nearly full to bursting. She clenched her fists in front of her face, squealed, and then announced, “I’m joining the ANBU!”

               Rei nearly choked on her drink. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

               “I’ve been appointed to the ANBU!” Naru repeated. “Isn’t that amazing? We’ll get to work together all the time! It’ll be just like the old days!”

               Rei’s head was spinning. She knew she had a bad feeling about all of this. “W-when did this happen? How long have you known?” was the most she could croak out.

               “The hokage called for me this morning and brought it up. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming, though. You wouldn’t believe the missions he had been sending me on” Naru explained. “Obviously I said yes immediately—how could I not? Especially when it meant working with you!”

               I think I’m going to be sick, Rei thought to herself. She tried her best to keep her composure. “Are you sure you’re really prepared for this, though, Naru? I mean, the ANBU is…intense” she replied.

               Naru rested her chin in her hand. “What? Like it’s hard?” she asked dumbly.

               “I just don’t know if you’re ready for what the black ops is going to throw at you” Rei said.

               “Oh, come on, it’s not like we’re in a war!” Naru said. “Why are you getting so worked up about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

               “I am happy!” Rei insisted. “I just don’t know if the hokage made the right decision…”

               “And what is that supposed to mean?” Naru crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes harshly.

               This was turning into a disaster. Rei peered around the dining room, hoping this wouldn’t turn into a scene. There were a handful of other parties surrounding, and she really did not want to capture their attention. She sucked in a deep breath, knowing she needed to tread lightly on this subject. “The ANBU requires a certain…I don’t know, darkness…and I mean, you’re like…the epitome of rainbows and bubblegum, you know? I’m not saying you can’t handle it, because I’m sure you can, I just don’t know if you’re ready for the type of shit that goes on in the ANBU…you know?”

               Naru’s gaze grew colder. “You’re such a downer, you know that?” she said. “It’s like you don’t think I know what I’m doing. Quit overthinking everything. I can handle myself, alright? I don’t think the hokage would’ve done something like this if he didn’t think so, too. I’m not a baby, you know, and I think you should really give me some more credit.” Rei buried her face in her hands and sighed. Before she could say anything more, Naru laid out some cash on the table and rose from her seat.

               “Where are you going?” Rei asked.

               “I’m not hungry anymore” Naru replied.

               “No, come on! Naru, wait!” Rei begged. She reached out to grasp her friend’s wrist, but she jerked it away before the redhead could wrap her fingers around it. Before she turned out of the restaurant, however, Naru peered over her shoulder to give one final statement.

               “You know, I hoped you’d be happy for me. If anything, you of all people should know not to underestimate someone’s abilities.” And with that, she disappeared. Rei slapped some steak on the grill haphazardly, then reached across the table and downed the rest of Naru’s sake.

               Kakashi was thirty pages deep into rereading Makeout Paradise when he heard a knock at his door. He dog-eared the page and answered to find Rei leaning in his doorway, staring up at him past her bangs. From the look on her face, he could immediately tell something was up and ushered her inside.

               “Rei, are you okay? What’s going on?” he asked as she flopped back on his bed.

               “I need you to wrap all of your limbs around my body like a starfish” she slurred.

               “Have you been drinking?” he asked. She averted her eyes and tried to suppress laughter. Kakashi sighed and readjusted her on the bed so that she would fit comfortably underneath the covers, but she simply covered her face and shook her head. Defeated, he resorted to sitting beside her and brushing the hair out of her face. “Rei, what’s going on?”

               “I need a little help” she admitted. Kakashi urged her to continue. Scrunching up her nose, she explained the drama of the afternoon and how terrible she felt about the way things were handled. Kakashi listened intently, and a strange feeling took root inside of him.

               “That sounds familiar…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and exhaling. Rei cocked a brow, propping herself up on her elbows. “Well, this sounds a lot like the way I reacted when you wanted to become a ninja. Remember?”

               Rei swatted at the air despondently. “Pfft, this is nothing like that” she replied, but Kakashi shook his head.

               “It’s exactly like that” he insisted. “Rei, I never wanted you to become a ninja because I was afraid of what may happen to you. I didn’t think you were ready and even if you were, I didn’t want to risk you getting hurt. Something tells me you feel the same way about Naru.”

               “Obviously!” Rei shouted. She leapt up and began pacing the room unsteadily. “She clearly has no idea what kind of shit we deal with on a daily basis in the black ops. She’s not dark and broody enough”—here she made a wiggly motion with her fingers that Kakashi forced himself not to laugh at— “she doesn’t have enough angst! The hokage has made a terrible mistake, she’s going to croak if she goes through with this.”

               The copy ninja leaned back and crossed his legs as he watched his girlfriend’s drunken panic. “You could say the same thing about yourself” he replied.

               “Excuse you, I am dark and broody! I have angst!” Rei shouted.

               “A lot of people also think you look like a child” Kakashi pointed out. The redhead pursed her lips and motioned to her height.

               “Listen, the only reason I’m so short is because I never finished crawling out of hell!” she said. Kakashi chuckled, and Rei shot him a threatening glare that he truly did not take seriously. Rather, he stood up and rested his hands on her shoulders to steady her and looked into her eyes.

               “I know you only want to keep Naru safe, but nothing is going to stop her from joining the black ops” he explained. “I had to learn that the hard way. The only thing you can do is decide whether you’re going to be there for her or not.” There was a certain sadness in his eyes that, had she been sober, Rei would’ve picked up on as pain and regret. Kakashi knew exactly where this situation was headed should Rei continue to be the stubborn mule she was. He had already made that mistake once, he didn’t think he had the strength to see her follow the same path.

               When she awoke the next morning, she was surprised to find she had somehow remembered more of the conversation than she expected. Or perhaps it just left such an impression on her that she awoke feeling the emotional aftermath. She forced herself upright in bed, rubbing her eyes and groaning. Kakashi had already left, but in his wake was a little note on the nightstand with a glass of water and an orange. Don’t make the same mistakes was all the message read. Rei crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash, then leaned her head back against the shelved headboard and groaned. She had fucked up and no matter what, she needed to make things right.  

               Despite her hangover, she forced herself to get dressed and find Naru. She had a pretty clear idea of where she may be. The rancid smell of the ANBU headquarters flooded her sinuses and made her nearly vomit. She sucked it up, however, and approached the barred window. “Hey, has there been a Naru Fuzuki here to pick up her supplies yet?” she asked. Despite the mask, she recognized the burly man on the other side. She didn’t know his name, but she remembered his persona at the very least. He shook his head, then pointed to the door at the other end of the room. Rei knew that door all too well. Yet again, she fought the urge to vomit. If Naru was inside, there was no turning back now.

               She didn’t have an accurate gauge of how long this would take, so Rei slid onto a nearby bench and waited. The room was quiet and empty, the man behind the window had disappeared. A part of her wished she had brought a book with her, though she knew even if she had she would be far too tense to actually read it. The waiting was torturous, however. With nothing else to do, her mind began racing with countless thoughts. What if Naru had taken her words to heart and truly did back out? She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. But if she hadn’t, and this was all coming to pass, how was she supposed to handle that? How could she possibly come to terms with the fear of her best friend grazing death every day? Not that her missions as a jonin were any less dangerous, but the ANBU did serious work. Dirty work. They weren’t called the special assassination and tactical squad for nothing.

               Just when Rei was certain her boredom was going to cause her undoing, a pair of shinobi turned the corner and entered the room, their gazes landing on her as they went. She recognized them immediately. “Rei, what are you doing in here in plainclothes?” Kakashi asked, approaching.

               “I came to fix some stuff” she replied. “I had a hunch I’d find Naru here, but the guy behind the window said she was still back getting her tattoo, so I’ve been waiting for her.”

               Kakashi nodded. “I’m glad” he said. Then, leaning in closer, he added in almost a whisper, “How much did you have to drink last night?”

               Rei groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”

               “You look terrible. You should really go home and rest” he suggested. Rei nodded.

               “I will once I take care of things here.” And then the door creaked open, and out stepped Naru inspecting her new tattoo. Rei cleared her throat, and Kakashi recoiled. “You should really let that thing heal before you start poking at it” she said. The blonde looked up and blinked as if she was hallucinating.

               “What are you doing here?” she asked sourly.

               “I work here, too, remember?” Rei added, throwing in a forced chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. Kakashi rested a hand on her shoulder and told her he would give them some privacy, then disappeared with his partner who Rei thought she recognized as Tenzo, though it was dark and hard to tell.

               Naru watched them disappear, then turned back to her friend. “Alright, Rei, what do you want? Have you come to try and talk me out of this some more? Because it’s not going to work. I already got the tattoo, I’m locked in.”

               “No” Rei shook her head. “No, I’ve had a lot of time to think and I realized that the way I reacted yesterday was…uncalled for.”

               “You, becoming self aware? Sounds fake but okay” Naru replied.

               Rei rubbed her chest and made a mocking expression of pain. “That hurts. That really hurts” she said. She watched Naru approach the window and follow after her. This conversation was far from over, and she refused to let Naru end it now. In a more serious tone, she then added, “I was wrong to insinuate you weren’t a good enough shinobi to be part of the black ops. I was wrong to assume you weren’t ready for a job like this. I just…I got scared. I didn’t want to see you put yourself in even more danger every day. I didn’t…I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

               “That’s sweet, but I’m fine” Naru said.

               “I know” Rei croaked. She sucked in a deep breath, refusing to let herself break. “Someone very knowledgeable helped me come to terms with everything, though. Reminded me that nothing I said or did was going to stop you, that the only thing I had power over was whether I supported you or not. And I can’t say I’m happy about all of this, and I’m still scared, but I respect your decision and I support you as a comrade…a coworker…and as a friend.”

               There was a long stretch of silence. The man behind the barred window appeared, then disappeared to retrieve Naru’s gear. As they waited, the blonde stared down at the counter before her blankly, hands firmly at her sides. She chewed over every word, deliberating, seeking out morsels of ingenuity in Rei’s voice. She needed to know that this was not a façade but that her friend truly meant the things she was saying. Naru had had a lot of time to think yesterday, as well, and realized that she had no more room in her life to tolerate fake friendships. She was an adult now, she needed to dispose of the petty bullshit in her life. She hated to think that Rei was not a lifelong friend, but if she had proven herself unkind and unsupportive, then Naru would have no choice. Rei fixed her eyes on the blonde and begged for an end to the silence. She just wanted to get it over with already. A firm lump blocked her throat and her stomach was churning. If she didn’t get an answer soon, she was positive she would vomit right then and there on the headquarters’ floor.

               And then Naru lifted her head up ever so slowly. The man returned with a tray of supplies, pointed her to the locker rooms where she could change. She took the tray, gazed down at everything piled atop it for a moment, then turned back to her friend and cracked a small smile. “Thank you, Rei” she finally spoke. “I can’t wait to work alongside you.”

               A strange noise broke past Rei’s lips, indicating that perhaps she was going to start crying. She forced a smile on her face, however, and wiped the snot from under her nose with the back of her hand. “You really mean that?” she asked.

               Naru gave a single, definitive nod. “After all, I’m going to need someone to show me the ropes” she said. The two laughed tearfully, and Rei surged forward to wrap her arms around her friend. After a few moments, the man behind the counter grunted as if to remind them of the decorum required of the black ops. This was not the place for teary reunions. Snapping back into form, Rei broke free from the embrace and regrouped. She rested a polite hand on Naru’s shoulder and nodded, then watched her disappear into the locker room. The newest member of the ANBU.

[killjoy-loveit]

Intruder P. 4

A/N: This is my first time posting something in this genre, so if it sucks, I apologize. I’ve decided it will be a ten part story! It is also in 1st POV as that’s my comfort zone when it comes to writing. It’s a Mafia AU. I would also like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction.

Part four summary: Close to a year has passed, Mira’s relationship with D has developed further. Secrets are disclosed, and his identity is finally revealed.

Word count: 1,934

P. 1 Link | P. 2 Link | P. 3 Link | P. 5 Link | P. 6 Link | P. 7 Link | P. 8 Link

P. 9 Link | P. 10 (FINAL) Link

Profanity warning!

      It’s been close to a year now. And he still refuses to take the mask off, which frustrates me to no end. He always came over each night, like it was his new ritual. Sometimes we would just talk the entire night, holding each other as we spoke of our dreams for the future. Other times the nights would turn sexual, and we would explore each others body like it was the first time. And there were still times when I had to patch up his injuries, which, thankfully, had become less frequent. 

      For the past few days though, I’d been feeling sick and he’d noticed. He thought it was odd, because it was rare for me to get sick. So, when he came over tonight and saw me curled up on my bed clutching a trash can to my chest, he told me I was going to the doctor in the morning. I tried to get out of it, but he was having none of my excuses.

      “If you’d only been sick for a day, I wouldn’t push you to go see a doctor. But it hasn’t just been a day, Mira! For the past three nights I’ve come over you’ve been curled up, looking pitiful as hell, and puking up whatever you managed to eat during the day. I just want you to feel better, I’m worried about you.” 

      He sat down beside me and rubbed circles into my back soothingly. Tears started to run down my face as he did that. He was right, I needed to go to the doctor. I was sick and it didn’t seem like I would be getting better anytime soon. Each night I would get sick and when morning came, I felt significantly better, that is, until night came around again. I hated being sick, I hated him seeing me like this.

       For the rest of the night he took care of me. Making me drink plenty of water and Gatorade when I couldn’t get down the soup he heated up. He held my hair back each time I threw up, reassuring me that I’d be okay. Then he did something I wasn’t expecting.

       “I’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry. Shhh, sleep now.” He soothed, holding me against his chest. I wasn’t sure if I believed him, I wanted to, but I didn’t want to get my hopes crushed if he was gone when I woke up. I fell asleep easily, despite the doubt in my head that he’d remain through the night.

      The sun streaming through the window made me blink my eyes open wearily. It was so bright. Shifting, I tried to stretch my arms out, but found that they were caged in. Scrunching my eyebrows, I tilted my head to see what was holding my arms captive. My eyes went wide with shock as I saw his arms wrapped tightly around me. He was still here! He kept his promise... Butterflies, I felt butterflies in my stomach.

      Nope, not butterflies. I struggled to get out from his arms as I felt my body try to rid my stomach of whatever it was holding onto. Still half asleep, his grip tightened and he mumbled for me to stay.

     “Gonna... Puke!” I managed to screech out, yanking at his arms desperately.

     Finally, his arms left me and I bolted into my bathroom, and dropped in front of the toilet just in time. As I emptied the small contents of my stomach into the ceramic toilet, I felt him come up behind me and pull my hair back.

     “Sorry.” He murmured, smoothing a hand down my back.

      I coughed and felt tears spill from my eyes, racing down my cheeks. My throat burned and my chest ached. When would this stupid virus pass? Gently, I felt him take my elbows and ease me to my feet. I guess I’m going to the doctor. Damn it.

      D reassured me he would still be at my apartment when I got back from the doctors. He also made sure I had a bottle of water and Gatorade in my purse, as well as a packet of saltine crackers. Since it was turning to fall outside, he also deemed it necessary to bundle me up as much as he could. His reasoning was he “Didn’t want me to get sicker.” I rolled my eyes at his antics, but allowed it. It was nice to have him babying me a little bit, of course if he tried to do this 24/7 I’d most likely want to strangle him.

      I didn’t have to wait to terribly long at the doctors when I arrived. My doctor was a sweet older lady, she always asked about how life was, if anything interesting happened, had I met a nice boy? This visit was no exception. Until she got to the medical questions and she had to ask if I’d been sexually active recently. I blushed a bright red and nodded my head shyly. She laughed lightly at my reaction, and clicked her tongue at me.

      “Hopefully whoever it is, is treating you right. Well, just for precautionary measures we’re going to need to do a pregnancy test.”

      Upon hearing the words “pregnancy test”, I froze. Could I be pregnant? There was no way, right? I was on birth control, and for the most part we also used condoms. No, there’s no way. They ran all their tests, taking a bit of blood, making me pee in a cup, and swabbing the back of my throat. I sat and waited for thirty minutes before she came back in. By this point my heart was threatening to beat out of my chest.

       “Congratulations, Mira! You’ve got a little one on the way.” She smiled enthusiastically at me. 

       The breath I’d been holding rushed out of me in that second. Holy shit, I’m pregnant. How am I going to tell him? Would he even want to keep the baby? How would I handle a kid now? I’m nowhere near ready. 

       “I can go through options with you, if you want. I’ll send a prescription in for prenatal vitamins though, in case you decide to keep the pregnancy. We can also do a sonogram here, to see how far along you are. Although, I wouldn’t put you past more than nine weeks.” My doctor said softly.

      I just nodded along and let her talk me through everything. There was only so much time I had before I could terminate, if I chose to do so. There was also the option of adoption, she assured me there were lots of loving couples looking to adopt. And, of course, I could always choose to keep the baby myself. 

      The rest of the appointment blurred by, and I don’t even remember the sonogram happening, I was so out of it. But I have the pictures. I have the pictures proving there’s a tiny little life growing inside of me. I didn’t even realize I’d gotten back to my apartment until I was standing in front of my door. I knew that the second I opened it, I would have to tell him. Stressed, I ran my hand through my hair, and bit my lip before opening the door quickly.

      Stepping inside, I heard the TV going in the living room. He’s still here. I don’t know, I guess a part of me expected him to be gone when I got back. Slowly, I made my way to the living room, attempting to keep my footsteps quiet. Although, me being the klutz I am, my foot slammed into the corner of the wall as I passed. I cussed and he turned to me with wide eyes.

      “Hey, what did the doctor say?” He asked, his head tilted.

      “Take off your mask.” I demand, my voice shaking.

       “What? No.” 

       “If you don’t take off that stupid fucking mask right now, you will leave and never come back!”

       He stood up and came to stand in front of me, his hand reaching out to cup my face. I jerked away from him and stepped back.

       “I need to see your face when I tell you this... Would you take it off if I tell you it’s life or death?” I ask harshly, feeling tears spill down my face for the nth time today.

       I saw his eyes change, from confused, to scared in a split second. Almost immediately after the words left my mouth, he reached up and pulled the mask off. 

      “Daehyun?” 

       It made sense now. Everything clicked into place. We hadn’t talked much in school, but he was always nice to me. He barely made it to graduation, and once he graduated it seemed like he disappeared off the face of the Earth. That is until his name had started popping up in suspected connections to the mafia. Nobody had a picture of him to post, either because he had them all destroyed or he controlled anyone who did have a picture. I can’t believe I didn’t connect it sooner.

       “Sit down.” I motion to the couch. He follows my command and sits quickly, taking my hand and making me sit next to him.

       “What is it, Mira?” 

       “I’m pregnant.”

       He froze, his hand that had been rubbing circles into my palm went completely still. He blinked rapidly as he tried to wrap his head around the bomb I’d just dropped. The longer he stayed still, the more I became convinced he wanted nothing to do with the pregnancy. I mean, he was in the fucking mafia! How could he handle a baby in that lifestyle? He couldn’t.

       “It’s okay. I know you weren’t expecting this. I-I don’t even know if I’m going to keep the pregnancy. So, don’t--” 

       This seemed to snap him out of his shock and he looked at me, hurt written on his face. “You don’t know if you’re going to keep it? How... How could you terminate it?” He asked, confusion and hurt lacing his voice.

        “Well, I mean... We never said we’d be exclusive, and you prob--”

        “So, you’re saying the baby might not even be mine? Are you serious Mira?!” He cut me off, raising his voice.

       “No! It’s definitely yours... I just, I wasn’t sure if you’d want this if you hadn’t been... Well, if...” I trailed off not knowing where to go with what I was saying. I stared at my hands in my laps, refusing to look at him. He was probably mad at me right now, I didn’t want to face him like that.

       “I haven’t been with anyone else since the first night I came to see you. In my head, there was only you. I couldn’t have gotten with someone else if I wanted.” He said softly.

       “Really?” I ask, looking up into his eyes.

       “Really, Mira. I’m not letting you make this decision yourself, though. I want you, and I want our baby.” 

       Our conversation continued long into the afternoon. We discussed our options, and what exactly we should do as the next step. The discussion quickly turned heated as he declared I should move in with him and quit my job, yeah, the one I just got. Which, of course, I refused. I just got my job after my recent college graduation, there was no way I was giving it up so easily. We bargained though, I would move in with him, as he wanted, and I would keep my job, as I wanted.

       This will most certainly be an entertaining adventure...