#his ageing body held up for like 8 rounds i think

[fazcinatingblog]

I love you and I miss you xxx

Worpel 795 - 2/8 (👤 on 1)

⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛🟨🟨⬛

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

https://playworpel.com

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 8

Prompt: Breeding Pairing: Hongjoong x fem!reader WC: 900 Summary: PWOP. It is what it says on the label This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Hongjoong or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. TW/CW Under the cut!

TW/CW: Unprotected, pregnancy talk, called “honey” and “little cumslut”, Hongjoong is needy, so is reader.

 Once he started he couldn’t stop, It took one time cumming as deeply as possible in your hole to convince him this was always the way to do it. It became an obsession, a project. Sex turning from one and done into a multi stage marathon. No longer was he worried about cumming early, in fact that way he could just fill you more. Pushing his own seed deeper into your womb as he fucks you again. He’d all but stopped masturbating, even during long tours, saving up his release for when you met again.

 Chest pressed into the mattress, hips held high about for him to pound into he jolts and jitters as his own seed spills around him and onto your legs. The first round of the night, a big one. They’ll only get smaller, more painful even as he continues. Because he will continue.  “I think it’s gonna take this time,” starry eyed you mutter. The possibility of it actually happening was nearly zero thanks to your implant. Still you say it with conviction because it pleases him.  “Everyone will know you’re mine then. No more hiding. I’ll dress you in the finest clothes and show off my work to the world.” Another spurt of cum forces it way into you as he thinks about your stomach, swollen with child. His child. Tits fat with milk. Taking you to art galleries and displaying you alongside his other accomplishments. He pulls the two of you to the side, leaving his cock soaking in the mixture of fluids, rehardening slowly before ever going fully soft.  His arm snakes over you, cupping your breast, rocking ever so slightly to bury himself again without disturbing you. His thumb absentmindedly plays with your hardened nipple, dragging it down and letting it spring back to place.  “Sleepy.” Your scoot back to his chest, nose pressing into your hair. “I like.”  “I know you do, honey. I know you like feeling full. I promise I’ll keep you nice and full.” His lips press against your hair, inhaling the scent of skin and shampoo. “Gonna fuck you all night if I have to.”  You moan, his base needy nature on full display. When he holds you like this it’s impossible to feel unloved, unwanted, alone. When he’s rutting into you, promising the moon, you feel safe. It’s easy to fall in and out of blissful sleep, eyelids heavy with pleasure. The persistent targeted drag against your gspot serves to keep you vaguely present as fireworks spark and fizzle.

 Hongjoong can feel your body slacken and tense in his arms as you drift between conscious states. “I should let you go to sleep,” he almost sounds repentant. Truly he feels a little guilty, knowing how hard he’d pounded into you previously. A good climax was better than any melatonin or cbd gummy to get you into a hazy dreamlike headspace.  “Don’t let me, wanna cum again,” you whine. You’re always whinier when you are tired, after your first round. Hongjoong knows this. He knows round two is not the time for hair pulling, snarling, fuck-you-dumb, crass kind of sex. Even though you both like it. Round two is for exactly this; hazy, needy, sloppy, whiny sex.  “Oh Honey,” he coos, “need more before bed? My little cumslut needs more?”  You toss your top leg forward onto the mattress, opening yourself up for easier access which he eagerly takes. Abandoning your breast in favor of carefully rubbing circles around your clit, Hongjoong groans. He can feel your walls tightening with your stomach, anticipating the next wave. “More, more,” you beg and plead, “want more.”  “Even when you’re all fucked out your walls are milking me dry,” Hongjoong sounds deliriously happy. Your cunt is sloppy with release, slick slap of his balls against your skin is proof enough of his handiwork. “Wet little pussy, working me so well. So good for me.” He tugs at you, rolling with you on top of him, using the full force of his thighs to fuck up into you, deeper and deeper. “I’ll give you as much as you can take.”  Through the haze of your orgasm you can feel the twitch of his dick, lodged as deep as he can go. Spurts of release force remnants of round one from you, a white ring forming at the base of his cock.  “Thank you,” you babble. Body shaking, possessed by pleasure. His pleasure. He enjoys every second of it, holding you tight as though he could absorb it. You can barely breathe, eyes rolling back. Your walls squeezing another dry, painful orgasm from him. The pain completes him, penance for using you, for wanting to own you like he does. You aren’t his but maybe just maybe if his cock is the only thing your cunt craves, you could be his.  Exhausted, both of you flinch and jitter, muscles activating randomly as your overstimulated nerves cool down. His member stays lodged inside, a poor stopper for your leaking hole. Another sign your night is not yet over.  “Is this all me,” Hongjoong asks, running a finger along the tight muscle of your pussy. “Going to have me dripping in your panties for weeks.” He can already feel the faint twitches of his rehardening. Lacing his fingers between yours you pull him close despite the slick and sweat.  “Again, just in case,” you giggle. “Just to be sure.”  “Of course honey, to be sure.”

Hated that I kind of had to be short and sweet with this but if all my kinktober fics are 2k+ words...well. TBH this particular kink is one of my favorites to write so trust it will be in others as well.

[kyne-grotto]

Round 1 Match 5: Mugg vs. Desperation Sans

Left:

1. Name: Mugg

2. Age: Physically and mentally 34 or so, but has probably only existed for 20 or so years, for reasons I will not be disclosing at the moment.

3. Job: N/A. It's hard when you're constantly on the move. He finds himself wishing he could have one sometimes, just to settle down somewhere and have a mundane life for once.. Unfortunately he can't exactly afford to stop moving at the moment.

4. How They Come Off to Most People: To a complete stranger, I could see him being a little intimidating. He's a rather large fellow, sturdy-built, looks like he could give you a good sock in the jaw if you got on his bad side. Face is a little crooked, tends to look stern when he's on his own. Upon talking with him, though, you'd find him to be calm and casual, rarely one to start a fight, likes a good laugh from time to time. He has a temper that can get the better of him sometimes, causing him to lash out, but he does his best to fix things if he realizes he was in the wrong. He's very loyal, and dedicated to looking out for the misfit crew he's managed to collect during his travels through the multiverse. He's not always the most responsible or organised person, though, and frequently struggles to keep the loonies of the group from running off and, um.. starting gas leaks.

5. Have They Ever Flushed a Hotdog: Not that he remembers... But he's well aware that just about anything could have happened when he used to party a little too hard years ago. Not some of his finest moments.

6. Favorite Colors: He knows everyone likes their greens and blues and all, but a nice coffee-brown's sorta underrated, don't you think?

7. Have They Ever Killed Before: He probably has, once or twice, when trying to save his or his buddies' skins in a particularly hostile AU. It was never something he wanted to do, and those moments frequently haunt him, particularly when he's alone.

8. Do they play an instrument: Well, he *didn't,* but now that you mention it I think I'm gonna have to give him some busted old ukelele to fiddle with when he's got a spare minute. I doubt he's very good at it, and the state of the thing doesn't help, but it could be worse. He hums along with it when he thinks no one's listening.

9. Entrance: Mugg muttered a quick thank-you to the figure at the registry, trying not to stare at their unnervingly featureless body. He wandered off into the hall, getting his bearings.. Ugh, he had forgotten how much he disliked making speeches. As far as he remembered, the last one he did was for his adopted cousin's wedding way back when... Man, that one didn't land. He eyed the stage from a distance, fidgeting with the folded-up receipt that held the entirety of his speech notes in his pocket. At least this didn't look all that formal. He took a deep breath and moved on-- he needed to find out what he had to do from here. Being late was only going to make things worse.

Ten minutes of hunting for any sort of order to this event and not a hint was to be found. Typically he would've asked the person at the registry in a situation like this, but he wasn't sure he wanted to look at that blank, empty face one more time. Mugg grumbled to himself, stuffing his hands into his pants-pockets. At least he'd found a couple of people who actually *did* have faces. Could those be the other contestants..? They didn't seem to be in any rush to give their speeches. He probably had some time to kill.. if they weren't as confused as he was. He decided to grab a bite to eat while he waited-- it would help with his nerves anyways. He stepped outside and took a minute to peruse his options. ...Oh, great. The vendors at the trucks were just as featureless as the figure at the registry. What was up with this place? Why'd he let himself get talked into this..? He did his best to shake off the unease and brazenly approached one of the trucks, hastily ordering fries and a soda while trying to look at the vendor as little as possible. The speed of the order caught him off guard, not to mention the fact it was free. Eh, he wasn't complaining. Who knew what currency they used in this universe, anyways-- it was usually some iteration of "gold" similar enough that he could swap it between universes, but you never know when you'll be thrown a curveball. He thanked the vendor and scouted around for a place to sit. He spied some benches tucked away behind the wall of trucks.. oh hey, someone was already there. It was another faced person, hunched over some food of his own. He looked antsy. Mugg saw no problem with getting friendly with the other contestants, he'd be happy to hear a voice more authentic than the painfully generic ones of the people maintaining this event. He walked over casually to the person on the bench, giving him a friendly, albeit crooked smile. "Hey there. Got room for one more?" Right:

Name: * The name's Sans. Sans the skeleton.

Age: * My age's nunya. Just kidding, 20.

Job: * I murder.

How They Come Off to Most People: * They run away from me.

 Have They Ever Flushed a Hotdog: * Definitely.

Favorite Colors: * Black. I feel the darkness around me.

Have They Ever Killed Before: Yes. My own brother. I mourn his death, but he'll come back soon.

Do they play an instrument: * Do instruments of torture count?

Entrance:

* Kill whoever's in the room with me.

Mugg   (@draggert) Sans from FellSwapDust: Desperation    (Soda2d/ @hiimnova)

The poll booth will close at 9PM CDT on 10/7/2023: www.deviantart.com/grotto-kay/…

[xoxo-teddybear]

Heyo! I'm a REALLY REALLY REALLY! Big fan of angst and your works, so I have a suggestion! So like, in this au Bakugou and Y/N are aged up and they have a daughter (let's just say her name is either Katsumi or Kirumi). So, the child is 4 years old and she didn't get her quirk yet. Let's just say Bakugou got drunk when his friends dragged him to a bar and this woman decided to hit him up and let's just say he cheated- so Y/N found out because kiri just had to tell her because it wasn't manly at all for him to keep a secret and Y/N left him with his child and boom! Bad ending. Please tag me in this one tyy!

Bet.

(Changed it up the slightest bit to make Katsumi remember bc I kinda wanna do a part 2 for this)

Nobody to Blame but Yourself - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, cheating, alcohol consumption

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Pt.1 Pt.2

You have a small, beautiful family. Your loving husband, Katsuki and your adorable daughter, 5 year old Katsumi.

Katsumi was your precious baby girl. She had Katsuki’s ash blonde hair with your silky smooth hair texture. She had your E/C eyes and Katsuki’s porcelain skin. She had Katsuki’s bravery and boldness along with your kindness and compassion. She was a perfect mix of you both.

Y/N and Katsuki have been together ever since their childhood. Their families were close and they grew up together. Katsuki always swore to protect his princess. They got together in their junior year and about 5 years after they graduated from UA high, Katsuki proposed.

—

—

“Be back soon, okay Suki?” You sweetly said to your husband as he got closer to the door. He pulled you in with a smile and pecked your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah Teddy Bear. I’ll probably be back sooner than you think, don’t even wanna go with those losers.” He complained with a strained face. You giggled at his expression and went on.

“Those losers have been your best friends since high school. You love them. You know you do,” you teased. “Besides, you haven’t spent some time with them in forever.”

“Yeah Y/N. I’m a husband and a dad. I don’t need to be around my friends, I need to be with my family.” He exclaimed with a playful voice.

“Well your family will still be here when you get back. Just as long as you always come back to us too.” You said with a wink.

“Always will Teddy Bear.” He said holding you tight. He held you close until you both heard the little pitter patter of feet running to the front door. You both looked down and saw your daughter in her pjs and watched as she jumped onto Katsuki.

“Be back soon daddy!” She said with a squeal. Katsumi was definitely a daddy’s girl. Her and her father were attached at the hip the second she was born. They were best friends and you loved their father-daughter dynamic.

“Katsumi, you’re supposed to be sleeping, love.” You said with a chuckled as you held her tiny hand while Katsuki picked her up in his arms.

“I wanted to say bye to daddy before he went to see uncle Kiri! And uncle Denki and uncle Sero and Auntie Mina!” She said and watched as you and Bakugou lip synced to her voice as she said the Bakusquad’s names. She laughed at her parent’s teasing as Katsuki assaulted her in kisses.

“That’s sweet baby bear. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. So get to bed you brat,” Bakugou said as he placed his daughter down and ruffled her hair. Others would look down on the rough treatment but you knew Katsumi never took it seriously. She always laughed and played back with Katsuki whenever he put on his ‘mean guy act.’

“M’kay.” Katsuki bent down to kiss her cheek and you followed doing the same action before Katsumi ran back off to her room. You and Katsuki said bye to each other after Katsuki gave you a loving kiss. He walked out the door to meet with his friends as he knew he was in for a long night.

It would soon shock him to see how true that statement would be.

—

The night was going well. Katsuki left around 8:30 and he said he would be back sooner than you thought so considering he was now a family man, you thought he’d be back by midnight. However, you woke up in the middle of the night and saw it was 3 in the morning...and he still wasn’t home. You were starting to get worried now.

If this was back in your earlier years of marriage, you’d say this was okay. Not great but okay, except now, Katsuki has responsibilities and promises that he vowed to keep. He should’ve been home a long time ago. Where was he? You stayed up deciding to sit and wait for him to come home and after almost 2 hours, your phone rang.

You picked it up quickly with a little bit of fear and anger sitting in your stomach. You didn’t even bother to check who it was so when you heard the voice of your husband’s best friend instead of Katsuki, you grew concerned.

“Katsuki! Where are you?!” You asked with worry as you slightly shouted into the phone.

“Hey Y/N..... It’s Kirishima. Umm...I have something to tell you.” He said with sadness detected in his voice.

“Kiri? Is everything alright? Wheres Katsuki?” You asked.

“I’m so sorry Y/N...”

Listening to the red head’s voice made your eyes pop. Your body trembled and tears began to pool in your eyes as you shook your head in denial. Katsuki loved you. You both had a daughter! A family! He would never....he wouldn’t....right? After talking to your friend for some time and getting the crucial information you needed, you made up your mind on what you had to do.

“T-Thank you, Kirishima. Goodnight.” You said into the phone with a hiccup.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You don’t deserve this. You and Katsumi....goodnight.” He said and hung up the phone. You placed it down and sat in silence for a moment. After about a minute, you broke down again and cried into your hands. You sobbed as tears flowed down your cheeks. Rivers of heartbreak and anger streamed down your face as you cried the night away.

Well..you couldn’t cry all night. Katsuki would probably be back in the morning and you had plans. You’d have to save your tears for later. You looked at the time.

4:18 a.m.

You set your alarm for 6 and went back to bed. The whole night, all you could think about was your precious baby girl. This was going to break her little heart. Instead of crying over your husband’s betrayal, you wept for your daughter’s future without her best friend. Eventually you cried yourself to sleep and the sun rose in time.

—

10:00 a.m

Katsuki opened his eyes to the alarm on the nightstand. He yawned a bit before adjusting his eyes to morning light. The more he looked at the stand, the more he realized he didn’t recognize it. Nor the alarm clock. He looked around and noticed he wasn’t in his bedroom. Katsuki shot up and sat on the bed and looked down to notice he was completely undressed. He looked to the side and saw some random woman. A complete stranger who was also naked in bed with him. His heart grew rapid as his eyes grew frantic.

“No, no, no, no, no, no this can’t be happening..this can’t be happening!” Katsuki said as his hands found way to his hair as he tugged on the blonde locks. The woman next to him awoken to his shuffling and smiled up at him. She placed her hand on his bare chest and cuddled in close to him as she sighed in content.

“G’morning handsome. Had a fun night?” She teased, reminding him of his affair and unloyal actions.

“Get the fuck off me!” He said as he jumped out of bed and found his pants. He pulled them on and continued to scream. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! The hell did you do to me you fucking slut?”

“What’re you talking about? And who the fuck are you calling a slut?” The woman said with sass.

“Just tell me where I am!” Katsuki demanded.

“A hotel! You know, the hotel you dragged me to so you could get your dick wet.” She said as she sat up from the bed but still covered herself with the blanket.

“Why the fuck would I do that?!” He screamed.

“You tell me. All I know is that I saw you in that bar, you drank a hell of a lot with your friends, I came up to you and flirted with you, you flirted back, we shared a few more drinks, and you dragged me here. I mean, I consented of course but still.” The stranger explained. Bakugou shook as he looked around in a frenzy. “Anyway, round 2?”

“You fucking bitch, I have a wife!” He screamed at her as he got himself dressed.

“Heh, wow. Well when your wife leaves you after she finds out you cheated, give me a call.” The woman said as she layed back down on the bed. Katsuki seethed at her as he squinted his eyes in disgust.

“You shameless slut. Like hell I will! And Y/N’s not gonna leave me! She loves me! And I love her-“

“Sure didn’t seem like it last night~” the woman said. Bakugou had enough and blasted the bed she was on with his quirk before cussing her out and leaving her there. He quickly ran out the hotel and found his car. He hopped inside and started it as he quickly sped off home.

“Shit!” Bakugou screamed at himself. How could he do that?! How could he cheat on you?! You were his everything! You and Katsumi! His two girls were his entire world! And he betrayed the both of you by doing this. He could only hope that you wouldn’t find out. He can’t tell you what he did. He would lose you! He can’t lost you! This whole thing just has to pass over and things will be fine. Right? Well something didn’t sit right with him as he inched closer and closer to his house.

—

When the 6 o’clock alarm rang, you woke up, ready for the day to begin and the drama to unfold. You were quick to get yourself ready. Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, a little makeup, and you packed your important belongings and your clothes. Everything else would be replaceable. You put on a pair of shoes and put the rest in the large suitcase you had.

You made a quick call to Mina, assuming she already knew what happened. You asked if you could drop Katsumi off for some time and she of course said yes. After saying ‘thank you,’ you brought all your bags into your car and went back inside to get your daughter.

You walked into your daughter’s bedroom to see her sleeping peacefully. Next to her bed, a framed picture of your once happy family. It was Katsumi’s 4th birthday and she didn’t want to spend it with anybody else except for Mommy and Daddy. Now, you were gonna have to take someone out the picture. You shook your daughter awake and watched as she opened her beautiful E/C eyes that resembled your own.

“Katsumi..hey baby, wake up.” You softly said with a reassuring smile to not alarm her. You watched as she rubbed her eyes with her tiny fist and looked up at you.

“Mommy? What’s going on?” She asked as she looked around in a daze.

“You’re gonna have a little play date at Auntie Mina and Uncle Kiri’s house. Uncle Denki and Uncle Sero will be there too! You excited?” You asked with enthusiasm to hide your pain.

“Really Mommy?!” Your daughter asked with excitement.

“Mhm! Get ready and get dressed for Mommy. They’ll be here at 8, okay?” You said rubbing your daughter’s back before she quickly jumped out of bed and into her own bathroom.

“Okay Mommy!” She said as she ran into the bathroom, turning on the sink to begin her morning routine. Some time passed and Katsumi got dressed and you went back in her room to help her dry her hair. You helped her put on her shoes and by the time they were on, Mina and Kiri were already at the door.

You opened it with a soft smile and the couple looked at you with supportive, sad eyes. “Hey guys..”

“It’s okay to be sad Y/N, we’re here for you.” Mina said. Your eyes teared up at her words but you shook your head and gave her a hug.

“Thank you, but I promise myself I wouldn’t cry. At least, not when Katsumi’s around. I gotta be strong for her. Her whole life’s about to change after all.” You sadly said as you looked down and released your hold on Mina. Your pink friend nodded before walking into the house to find Katsumi in her bedroom. You and Kirishima stayed at the door and talked a bit more.

“I’m so sorry for all of this Y/N. I should’ve been watching him more.” Kirishima said as he looked down in sorrow.

“Kiri, you shouldn’t have to watch him. He cheated and that was his choice. Your choice was being a true friend and telling me. A true man,” you joked. You both gave a little bittersweet laugh before calming down again. “Thank you so much Kirishima.”

The red head did nothing but pull you in for a tight hug. You almost cried on his shoulder before your daughter came to the both of you. “Uncle Kiri!”

You both separated and looked down at the excited 5 year old. She jumped onto her uncle and he happily held her in his arms. “Hey squirt. Ready for a day full of fun?”

“Mhm!” Katsumi replied. You all talked some more before Katsumi said her goodbye to you and went off with Kirishima and Mina. You shut the door and took a break as you allowed a few silent tears to drop. You wiped them away and went to pack your daughter’s bags. Just a few more hours and he’d be home..probably. All you knew was that you’d have to face him eventually.

Finally, you finished packing your daughter’s things and placed them in your car. You put on a jacket and waited for Katsuki to walk through the doors. Soon, this perfect little family would go crumbling to the ground.

—

Katsuki pulled into his driveway and his eyes took notice of your car still there. He smiled at the sight and quickly got out of the car. He slammed the vehicle door shut and ran to the entrance. He unlocked the door in a rush and to say he was happy to see you on the couch, still there, was an understatement.

“Y/N! Hey Teddy Bear! I am so sorry!” He said as he ran to you and sat down next to you on the couch, pulling you in for a tight hug. He was too happy to even notice your jacket and shoes that you wore.

“Katsuki, you were gone all night. Where were you?” You said in a soft voice as you placed your hand on his chest so you could face him.

“I-..I overdid it and spent the night at Kirishima’s. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, love. I was passed out the whole night.” He said and attempted to pull you in again but you pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. You couldn’t believe he was going to lie to you. Actually, now that you think about it, cheating wasn’t below him so why would lying be either?

“So why didn’t Kirishima call me? Or Mina?” You questioned. Unfortunately, you underestimated Katsuki’s quick tongue. He was a good liar, and if you hadn’t already known the truth, you’d probably believe him.

“Shitty hair’s phone died and Alien girl was asleep by the time we got back. By the time he put me in the guest bed, I knocked out so don’t asked me what happened after.” He said. Your anger and fury grew at his lies but he didn’t notice. “Look, I’m so sorry I came back so late but I can make it up to you Teddy Bear. Now would you just give me a hu-“

“SHUT! UP!” You screamed as you pushed him off of you. You stood up from the couch and Bakugou watched you in “confusion.” Bakugou felt his heart racing as he had a guess at why you were so mad but he refused to believe it.

“T-Teddy Bear, whats wrong?” He asked with shaky hands as he tried to reach out to you but you dodged all his attempts.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! You’re fucking lying to me! You’re lying to me after doing what you did! Katsuki, are you just gonna act like you don’t know what you did?! Because I know! So why don’t you?!” You screamed at him. Bakugou still couldn’t believe you knew so he tried his soft attempts once more and reached out to you again.

“Baby, please calm dow-“

“Are you fucking serious Katsuki? You’re gonna tell me to calm down?!” You laughed out in disbelief. You watched as Katsuki’s lip began to tremble and he looked down in shame. “Say it.”

“What?” He spoke softly.

“Say what you did.”

“......”

“Say it Katsuki! Tell me what you did and how you betrayed not only me but your daughter too.” You specified. It took Bakugou a second before he spoke up in a soft, quiet voice.

“I cheated on you...”

“Louder.”

“I cheated on you!” He said while standing up and facing you with tears in his eyes. “I cheated on you! Okay?! I got drunk last night and slept with someone else but baby I swear I didn’t mean it!” He said as he walked to you and tried to hold you. You once again pushed his hands away before speaking back.

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not Katsuki! You still did it!” Your voice grew dry as it began to break. Your eyes pooled with tears as you continued. “I would’ve NEVER done that to you. I wouldn’t even be CAPABLE of doing that to you Katsuki! Because I love you!”

“I love you Y/N! I swear I do!” He fought back but you retaliated.

“It doesn’t seem like it! Because you slept with someone else! You promised me you would never hurt me. You promised you would always protect me. You promised me that you loved me and only me! Not only that but you promised your daughter that you would never bring harm to her! Guess what?! You’re the reason her whole life is going to be so fucked Katsuki! Do you realize that?!” You screamed at him.

“I do, Teddy Bear, I do!” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that Katsuki!” You said with an exasperated voice. Bakugou shook his head as he walked to you and kneeled infront of you.

“Baby, please! I’m sorry! I was drunk, it didn’t mean anything! It was a mistake but if we can forget about this I promise I’ll make it up to you!” He begged.

“Forget? Forget?! Are you insane?! I’m never gonna be able to forget any of this Katsuki. How the hell am I supposed to forget that my first friend, my first love, my first kiss, my first everything betrayed me like this! How am I supposed to forget that my husband, who I’ve known since we were fucking babies, cheated on me?! Tell me!” You said as the tears finally fell.

“I don’t know...I don’t know but I promise I can make it up to you! So please forgive me! Please stay!” He pleaded. The whole time he couldn’t let go of you. Every time you pushed him off, he just came right back.

“How am I supposed to trust that you’ll actually keep that promise?” You said softly with a sad voice. “If it wasn’t clear already, I’m not staying. We’re getting a divorce, Katsuki.”

Bakugou felt his heart shatter. He looked at you with his trembling body and shaky irises. “W-What?”

“Katsuki...you cheated. There’s no other way around it. No explanations or excuses. And you can’t even blame it on the alcohol because I’ve been blackout drunk before too and the idea of cheating on you never even crossed my mind. You have nobody to blame but yourself.” You said with a broken voice and a shrug. “We’re getting a divorce and I’m taking Katsumi with me.” You said and began to walk to the door.

Bakugou couldn’t believe what he just heard and so he got up from his knees and ran after you. He ran in front of you and held you by the shoulders. “What?! No! Baby!! Please, that’s my daughter! You can’t just take her from me, please!”

“I won’t be taking her from you,” you said and pushed his hands off your shoulders. “We can co-parent, but when she’s old enough, when Katsumi asks why we’re no longer together, I’ll be telling her the truth. So you can still see her, but when she’s ready to know, if she decides she hates you and doesn’t want to see you ever again, then you’ll have to accept it.”

At this point, Katsuki began to openly cry as he allowed his fat tears to flow down his face. Hiccups left his mouth as he shamelessly sobbed infront of you. “Y-Y/N....please don’t go. You guys are my family, you’re both my entire world..I-I love you both so much,” he said and went in to grab your hand, which you allowed. “I know I hurt you both a-and I know I fucked up, but please just give me another chance. I swear this was just a mistake, I never meant to do it. Please stay...please let me fix my mistake. I love you.”

Tears once again filled your eyes but you didn’t allow them to flow. “.....I love you too Katsuki,” at those words, Bakugou felt a bit of hope. “But I just can’t stay with you. If it was just me..I probably would give you another chance..but Katsumi is your daughter Katsuki. She’s your own flesh and blood and you betrayed her. You’re supposed to be her hero and you betrayed her like this. I just can’t trust the fact that you won’t do something like this again, and not just for my sake but for our daughter’s too. I’m sorry, but this is where we end.”

Once you said that you walked away from Bakugou, leaving him in shock. He stood there, regretting everything. Not just his mistake, but all the times where he could’ve been a better husband.

‘I should’ve held her more..I should’ve been home more...I should’ve been more for them,’ he thought until he heard the door open and slam shut. He turned to face it and looked around the now very empty house. He allowed silent tears to drip down his face and then he took a little tour of his new environment.

He walked to the master bedroom and saw all your belongings gone. He saw your closet was empty, all your shoes gone. He went into the bathroom and saw all your stuff was missing. The tears flowed faster and when he walked into his daughter’s room, it made it 10x worse.

He opened the door to the pink room and saw her bedsheets missing, all her toys gone, her closet was barren, and her bathroom was hollow. He walked back out to his little girl’s former bed and sat down. He cried on the bed and sobbed into his hands. He broke down as he thought back to your words. You were right.

‘You have nobody to blame but yourself.’

Katsuki looked up from his hands and when he did, he took notice of the picture frame that was left faced down on the night stand. He picked it up and his heart turned to dust. It couldn’t break anymore. He looked at the picture of his once happy family. His beautiful wife, his blessing of a daughter. His two girls who had a protector...that protector was supposed to be him...and he failed. He smiled at the picture but continued to cry. It was a beautiful sight but you left it behind.

He took the picture with him as he walked to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and held the frame close to his chest as he layed down on the cold mattress. Tears still freely fell as a shadow casted over his eyes. No words could be said except for a few.

“N-Nobody to blame but myself.”

@darl1ngmei

A/N: Hey Cubs! It’s been awhile since my requests have been closed AND THEY STILL ARE but the reason why I took this one was because I’ve been on a writing spree recently (I literally have 15 drafts full of different writing pieces🤣) and I rly liked this request! Please don’t start sending requests because they may just get lost. When I open up my requests, then you guys can send some because I love to satisfy! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this piece and thank you to the cub who requested this! 🧸💗

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Just Give Me Time (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Summary: One day when going through Charlies night stand you find something you really didn't expect to find.

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, mentions of divorce

Word Count: 1,907

You were bustling around Charlie’s apartment filling up a small backpack ready for the day. It was a warm Saturday afternoon and the plan was already lain out; you were going out to photograph the new vintage fair that had come into the city a couple of weeks ago. You and Charlie rarely had days out, both of you makes excuses of being too tired from work so the principle of getting an outing with your boyfriend made you giddy! Charlie had already promised to treat you to as many cotton candies and ice cream you could muster, watching you bounce around like a little excited kid made his heart swell with joy.

“Charlie!” you called out throughout the apartment “Where did you put the little bag for the digital camera?”

“Ummm… try my night stand” he said absentmindedly, rustling around in the bags to get them ready.

You pulled your eyebrows down in confusion popping your head round the door, “Why would they be-“ but he was already walking away from you into the kitchen. You rolled your eyes and figured you’d give his suggestion a shot.

Making your way into the bedroom you slid open the top drawer on his side of the bed.

You didn’t even register what you were looking at at first, brain still in a rush to find this camera bag and get out the door, but then your eyes focussed a little more on what was in front of you.

For some reason you sunk to your knees, almost following your stomach which had dropped down to your feet. The voice in the back of your brain reminded you that you’d never been in this drawer, not that you’d had a reason too. Charlie kept his reading material, phone and glasses on the top of the stand, condoms in the bottom drawer and medications in the bathroom so why else would you need to go in here.

But now you knew why.

Sitting in the back of the drawer on Charlie’s side of the bed was a simple gold ring on top of a picture of a little boy, probably about 7 or 8 years old.

Walking back into the living room you could see Charlie packing the last few things into your bag, on any other occasion you would see this as a sweet gesture but right now you could barely stand to look at him. Your eyes almost immediately dragged themselves away from him as your stomach churned. “What’s this?” you asked in a small voice, trying to keep your tone neutral. A tiny part of you was hoping there was a reasonable explanation. Your hands shook a little holding the two items out to him, surely there had to be another reason?

Maybe the ring was his grandads and it was a gift when he passed away? Maybe the boy was a nephew you didn’t know about?

Charlie turned to you smiling, looking from your face down to your outstretched hands, and stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden twist of his features told you everything you needed to know. Instant silent tears began to drip steadily down your cheeks as the reality washed over you.

“Are you married?” despite your determination to keep your voice level having to utter those words made you tremble. Despite how nauseous the words made you it had to be him that told you, no room for presumptions or assuming the worst – you needed to hear him say it.

“S-sweetheart, listen I-“

“Are you married?” you shouted, anger and humiliation bubbled over and you couldn’t bear to hear him stammer.

A simple, quiet reply was all that followed, “Yes”

You scoffed in shock and held your stomach tight, fighting the bile that threatened to rise up. Your legs felt like they wanted to collapse again, like everything in your body was telling you to ground yourself in this ridiculous reality.

“We’re divorcing!” Charlie rushed out, taking a step towards you. Holding your hand up you stopped him, not wanting him to come any closer to you let alone touch you. Your skin crawled as his fingers stayed outstretched.

“Do you think that matters?” you spat; he waved his hands in response like he was attempting to get words to come out. You noticed that they were shaking as he did so.

You continued in his silence, “We’ve been seeing each other for nearly 9 months Charlie! You didn’t think to mention that you were still married?”

He nodded, “Of course I did but… it’s complicated”

“OH I’m sure it is!”

You looked down at the little collection you had in your hands, the tip of your thumb played with the worn gold band but you were focussed on the picture that was below it.

“Your son?” you asked accusingly, holding it up for him to see.

He nodded again, this was the quietest you’d seen Charlie in a long time and you were almost pleased, “Henry”

“Cute name” you sniffed and wiped the cascading tears away roughly with the back of your hand.

A deathly uncomfortable silence fell over the room; all that could be heard was Charlie’s laboured breathing and your sniffles. It was a pathetic scene to say the least. Suddenly, like a white hot flash, you realised you were still clutching the picture with his wedding ring and you felt dirty. You unceremoniously dropped them onto the side table next to you, fighting the temptation to wipe your hands down your jeans.

There was no real shouting, no screaming, throwing things and calling him names. The reality was dumbstruck silence. You felt like you’d been hit by a truck, your limbs shook and your stomach ached. Blinking your eyes you tried to push away the tears and the fact that your head felt like it was spinning.

You were the other woman, at the ripe old age of 28 you were a mistress. It made your blood boil in your veins to think you’d been tricked into hurting another woman.

“How did I not know?” a question for yourself as well as him, you stood shaking your head in disbelief as you received no reply, “I’m so stupid!”

Charlie stuttered, no words making an appearance before his shoulders slumbered and his voice quietened. You stared at him, eyes wide with the horror at his lack of even a defence.

“I’m going home” you said turning frantically to find your jacket and bag.

“Please wait…” Charlie whispered, now the tears began spilling down his cheeks as he spoke up. You noticed how his bottom lip shook as he reached out for you and it made your stomach twist with a strange sympathy. His large hands grappled with your forearms as you tried to stand back from him but his grip was strong enough to hold you.

You gasped a little as he dug his fingers into your skin in desperation, “You’re hurting me” you whimpered and he instantly let go.

“I love you”

Staring up at him you didn’t know whether to slap him or hold him, his face held the picture of complete grief. You shook your head in response and now it was your turn to stutter, lowering your gaze to the floor you kept your eyes on your feet.

Before you could really form words he kept speaking, “I love you! I love you! I love you!” he gasped in a breath and his hands returned to cover your forearms.

“Please don’t go. I… I should have told you. I was going too! But I was scared I would lose him”

Those words caused your eyes to snap up to his face. He nodded, “I thought she would go after me if she knew…. I would never see my son again!” and then it was like something snapped inside him and his towering body crumpled.

Slipping down to his knees he rested his palms on your hips, curling his fingers to grip the material of your jumper. Your body swayed with the force of his actions and your hands found steadying purchase on his broad heaving shoulders. Charlie sobbed, unabashed and completely broken, into your body. Your own tears joined in and you couldn’t help but weave your fingers into his hair and stroke gently along his scalp.

“Please just… give me time to explain everything. There’s so much… I-I can’t…” he cried, coughing and spluttering around his sobs.

“Charlie I-“

“Please!” he practically screamed, in that moment he gazed up at you and your heart shattered once again.

Nothing about him felt malicious or cruel; he was just a lost man who didn’t know what to do. A man whose own actions caused a whirlwind in his life that he didn’t know how to control. A man who just loved his son.

“I-I’m also going to need time” you stuttered, bending down to his level. He still sobbed violently remaining clutched too you as best as he could. Your brain felt like it was rattling in your skull, mere moments ago you were happily in love with the most amazing, brilliant, strong dependable man and now…. now you didn’t know anything.

You stroked back his ruffled hair that was sticking to the tears on his face, snot ran down his top lip from the force of his sobs and you scrunched your jumper sleeve to wipe it away. He nodded rapidly in response to your statement, chewing on his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling, and brought his hands up to cup your face.

“Do you understand that I never meant to hurt you?” he asked, “You are the one thing, other than my son, that has kept me alive through all this fucking shit! You are the one thing that makes me happy. Everything is so… fucked up!”

Everything was so fucked up. Everything was so confusing and you didn’t know what the right answer was here. Part of you wanted to walk out and never come back; your friends would scold you for even still being here. They’d tell you that Charlie lied for 9 whole months! And that divorce or no divorce he was a married man with a child who had stakes in all this. A young kid who would live his whole life affected by your actions from here on out.

But this was the problem - you loved Charlie, that’s why it was confusing. You loved him more than anyone you’d ever met and you just couldn’t let yourself make this so cut and dry. Your heart ached to see Charlie cry and… you didn’t know the situation really. For all you knew his soon to be ex-wife was the worst person alive and she deserved everything she got.

You tried to convince yourself of that but honestly it wasn’t all that convincing. She was probably just some normal woman just like Charlie was some normal man. Maybe she fucked him up, maybe she didn’t.

In this moment you realised you didn’t want to save him. But maybe you could still love him. You were making no promises other than to hear him out, with the ever present threat that you could decide to leave him and never come back if this situation didn’t feel right.

Reaching up you brushed back tears from his flushed cheeks, you nodded once to confirm you understood.

“Just… give me time”

[simplee-dreaming]

The Party

A/N: I spent far too much time deciding how all of their outfits were gonna look so I hope it paid off. Also, I know some things I mention have different names in different countries but I've gone for what I only know as the British version. Hope you like it! (Totally didn't get inspiration for this idea from driving past a joke shop myself...)

Word count: 2951

Summary: The reader attends her first themed party hosted by RDJ, but her outfit lands her in trouble.

------------------------------------

Tonight was the night. The night you had been waiting for for weeks. A party at Robert Downey Jr’s house. But not just any old party, oh no, a party for the Avengers cast. Not even just a party - a themed party.

See, Robert is well known for his themed parties. Of course he’s done the classics such as the black and white theme, the 80s theme, even the “dress as your favourite superhero” theme - what could be more suited? But he’s also well known for his unique themes. For example: dress as what you wanted to be when you were a kid; dress as your favourite fruit or veg; dress as another member of the cast; dress as your favourite gay icon. The list goes on.

This was your very first party with the cast though. Being the newest member, you were super excited to have a great night with them all outside of work - plus little Tom couldn’t stop guessing what this theme could be. It was, of course:

“Dress as your favourite board game.”

Yep. Board games.

You spent ages trying to figure out what board game you were going to dress up as. The main rule of the themed parties was that you couldn’t tell other people what you were going as unless you deliberately needed someone else to complete your outfit.

You were desperate for ideas now that the party was only a week away. It wasn’t until you were walking down the highstreet, and something in the shop window caught your eye, that you finally had an idea. You were standing outside of a joke shop, and in the window stood a dress...designed like a Twister mat.

Perfect.

The day had finally arrived. No one was filming today so you had all day to get yourself ready. Hair and makeup done, Twister dress on, ready to rumble.

You made your way to RDJ’s house at half 8 - late enough to not be the first one there but early enough to enjoy everyone’s company for longer. You smiled with glee as you stepped into the house. You were tingling with excitement as you walked towards the room where the music played. The minute you walked into the room, everyone approached you. And one by one you scanned them all to see what they were dressed as.

The first person you saw was Anthony, he was dressed up as Cards Against Humanity. Not quite a board game but funny nonetheless. The front of his outfit was completely black and the back was completely white. The writing on his front read “I drink to forget _____”, and the writing on his back read “Tom Holland”. You giggled.

Next was Scarlett. She decided to come dressed as Pictionary. Part of her outfit was made with polyester and nylon, and she carried around a whiteboard marker so that anyone could draw a picture on her outfit and others had to guess what it was. This could also be wiped off easily, ready for the next person to draw.

Sebastian was next, you snorted when you saw him. He was dressed as Frustration. His outfit was divided into the four colours: his top right being yellow, top left being green, bottom right being blue and bottom left being red. He had placed a semisphere plastic hat over his head and inside lay a foam dice which jumped about whenever he shook his head.

After Seb came Liz. She was dressed up as Uno. Her front and back were two different colours of the uno reverse card - the front being red and the back being green. The point of this is that whenever someone asked her to do something she didn’t wanna do, she’d just point to her outfit and get out of doing it.

Next was Paul B. He came as Trivial Pursuit. Random questions and answers were plastered all over his suit, such as: “how many feet are there in a fathom? 6”; “What three-word slogan was named the most popular advertisement ever in a 2000 poll? Beanz Meanz Heinz”; and his own personal saying, “Where do snitches end up? In ditches”.

Following Paul was the unsurprising double act. Big Tom and Hemsy. They had come dressed as Snakes and Ladders. Tom had glued a giant toy python to his all-black outfit, and Chris had stuck a cardboard ladder to the front and back of his all-white outfit. Simple, yet effective.

Then came Evans who was dressed as Noughts and Crosses, despite numerous comments from RDJ about it not being a board game. His back was full of paper noughts and crosses stuck to his top but his front had a similar material to Scarlett’s where the cast could play their own game on his front and then wipe it off for the next players.

You scanned little Tom next. He had gone all out with his outfit, dressing up as Operation. He was wearing a light pink coloured top and matching trousers and had stapled all the pieces of operation to their correct areas, such as the butterfly, the spare rib and the wish bone. He’d also used face paint to paint his nose a dark shade of red. Adorably creepy in a way.

Last, but certainly not least, was the man himself. Robert Downey Jr. He came as the popular game Cluedo. And boy did he look fancy. He wore a top hat that had a giant question mark stuck to it, and a tuxedo with a long sweeping tail attached to the jacket. Neatly placed all over his black suit were the names of the suspects, the names of the rooms and the names of the weapons - all written in white. He looked splendid.

“Twister. How unusual. I love it,” Robert said, the others nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, you all look incredible,” you said.

Little Tom held out his arm and led you to the dance floor where you spent the next hour dancing the night away. Big Tom and Hemsy were owning the dance floor with their moves. Many party classics blared through the speakers, including 5,6,7,8...which you knew the dance off by heart but RDJ had to be taught the moves by you and little Tom.

Another hour passed and you were sat with Scarlett, Liz and Paul in the other room where the music wasn’t so loud. Seb was with you but he had asked Liz to get him a drink and she played the uno reversal so now he was on drinks duty.

“Paul, can I borrow your suit just so I can literally look smarter?” You asked, he chuckled.

“Maybe I can just follow you around and relay the facts for you,”

“You could be the Yoda to my Luke. Though I think you’re too big to sit on my back,” you said.

“Here’s your punch,” said Seb, returning with two cups for him and Liz.

“Finally, what took you so long?” she asked.

“I stopped in the party room, Anthony and little Tom are having a competition to see who can do the macarena better,” he said.

“But...the macarena is the macarena…” you said, confused.

“Try telling them that. Tom insisted that the Brits do it better apparently.”

“Well, we do have some absolute bangers,” you chuckled. Paul agreed.

“So where did you get that dress?” Scarlett asked you.

“The joke shop down the highstreet. I was walking past it last week and found it in the window. Thought it would be perfect,” you shrugged.

“Until Mackie gets over excited and plays Twister on you,” Seb said.

“I’d like to see him try,” you replied.

“Ah, here’s the gang. What are you all doing in here?” Robert said, entering the room with big Tom and Evans.

“We’re just sat chatting….wait, have you left Holland and Mackie alone?” Seb asked.

“They’re fine, Chris is with them,” Tom replied. You tilted your head at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I should check on them…” Tom said, you nodded and he left the room.

“Soooo, how’s it going?” Evans asked everyone.

“We’re all fine but Y/N is a bit twisted,” Seb said. Everyone laughed but you bonked him on the head, making the dice jolt.

“Oi!”

You giggled and slapped the plastic hat again, the dice landed on a 6.

“Eyy I get another go!” You cheered before bonking him on the head again. He sighed but chuckled.

“Well it’s nice to see her dressed as an actual board game,” Robert said, turning to Evans.

“Hey, that’s not fair! Noughts and crosses is a board game!” Evans protested.

“I wanna play,” you said. Evans smiled at you.

You got Liz to play with you and you went first. You decided to play as noughts and took the bottom left corner. After a few rounds, you got a straight diagonal line. You cheered as Liz huffed, but she congratulated you nonetheless.

“I wanna play pictionary now,” you said, turning to Scarlett. She smiled and handed you a whiteboard pen. You thought for a moment then began drawing.

You pressed down on Scarlett’s outfit to make sure you could draw properly. You ran the pen down her stomach and she giggled.

“Hey, careful, that tickles,” she said. You blushed and apologised but continued. Everytime the pen went over a certain spot Scarlett would giggle but she never flinched.

“Okay, I’m done,” you announced. Everyone leaned forward and groaned once they saw it.

“Really? You know none of us can say that,” Seb said.

“First one to say it correctly wins,” you shrugged. You had drawn Mjolnir, something that everyone struggled to say.

“Midge-oh-lair,” said Liz.

“Mjohn-ler,” said Seb.

“Me-joln-ier,” said Evans.

“Hey! It’s Mjolnir!” came a voice from the door. Hemsy had just walked in with Mackie, little Tom and big Tom.

“We have a winner,” you grinned and everyone groaned again.

“Okay now I wanna play snakes and ladders,” you said. You scrambled to your feet and launched yourself at Hemsy, climbing up his tall body and clinging to him like a koala. He laughed.

“Okay, and what do we do now?” He chuckled. You shrugged and hugged him tighter, he returned the favour.

“As nice as this is, princess, I can’t carry you around the rest of the evening,” Hemsy said.

“Alright, hang on. Gotta complete the game,” you said. You motioned big Tom to come nearer and leaned over to hug him. Your legs followed and wrapped around his waist before you slid down his body and landed on the floor. Tom laughed.

“Impressive,” he said. You lay flat at the floor and looked at him, giggling.

“You’re very playful today,” big Tom said.

“I’m just happy to be here,” you giggled, he smiled at you.

“Alright my turn, I wanna play twister,” Mackie said, launching himself at you.

“WAIT!” You cried, panicked by his sudden movement. Mackie didn’t listen.

“I’m not doing anything! I need someone to give me an instruction,” he said.

“Right foot red,” Seb said. Mackie lifted his foot and put it on the first red spot he could see, directly on your tummy. You giggled as he adjusted his foot, rubbing it against your tummy.

“Noho Anthony!”

He looked and realised what he was doing, then smirked and vibrated his foot on your tummy again. You giggled louder.

“The twister mat is making noises, how do I turn it off?” He asked.

“Um, try putting your left hand on yellow,” little Tom piped up. Mackie grinned as he spotted a yellow spot on your ribs. He put his hand down and gave them an “accidental” squeeze.

“Hehey!” You shrieked.

“Didn’t work Holland, anyone else?” Mackie said.

“Try right hand green,” Scar said, smirking. Mackie placed his right hand on the green spot on your side and squeezed again.

“Stohop!” You cried.

“Right well that didn’t work, and I can’t put my left foot on it otherwise I would break it. Any other ideas?” he said.

“You may have to push a few buttons, try turning it off and on again,” Paul said. Mackie squeezed your ribs and sides again and shook his foot on your tummy. You screeched loudly.

“Nope, still making noises,”

“Let me have a look,” Liz said. Mackie had you pinned below his hands and foot. You started to giggle as you felt a single finger run up your neck.

“Nonono Lizzie!” You squeaked as she dragged a nail up the other side.

“There must be an off button around here,” she teased. She gently scribbled all her nails into your neck. You scrunched up your shoulders and shrieked.

“NOHOHOHO!”

“Definitely not here, you sure it’s not there Mackie?” Lizzie asked. Mackie squeezed your ribs and sides again and your giggles turned to laughter.

“Nope, no no, that’s made it worse,” he said. “Someone try a blue spot!”

Evans jumped up and ran over to help. He found a blue spot right on your hip, he placed his hand over it and started squeezing.

“NAHAHAHAHAHA!” You screamed. Trying to buck your body was impossible with Mackie still pinning you.

“Dammit Evans you turned the volume up!” Mackie yelled.

“Maybe the problem lies outside of the mat itself,” big Tom piped up.

“What you saying Hiddleston? That we’re the problem?” Mackie asked.

“Not at all, just that there appears to be parts connected to the mat, but not part of the mat itself,” Tom said, putting his hand on his chin. He slowly approached you and swiped a single finger under your knee. You kicked it away.

“Now it’s malfunctioning,” Mackie informed him. Tom hummed and swiped a finger under your other knee. You kicked again. He then spider tickled under both your knees and you shrieked loudly.

“PLEHEHEASE I’M NOHOT BROKEN!” You screamed.

“God DAMN you made it talk!” Mackie yelled.

“I know what the issue is,” Robert said, stepping forward.

“Do go on?” big Tom said.

“You need to hit all the pressure points at once. It’s like a giant reset button, wear it down till it reboots itself,” he said. Everyone looked at each other.

“Position yourselves,” Robert instructed.

Mackie stepped off of your stomach and knelt by your left side, Seb knelt by your right. Lizzie was still up by your neck and big Tom by your knees. Scarlett was by your right shoulder, Paul by your left. Evans positioned himself by your hips, little Tom the other side by your thighs. Hemsworth and Robert sat next to your feet.

“Nonononono please!” You cried.

“Rebooting systems in 3…” Robert began.

“No please!”

“2…”

“Wait!”

“1…”

“No wait I’m not brOHOHOHOKEN!” You cried as everyone attacked you at once. No one was pinning you down but you could hardly twist and turn with 10 people tickling all your spots at once. They were all ruthless and yet...you sort of loved it.

“PLEHEHEHASE NOHOHOHO!” You cried, flailing your arms around. Mackie and Seb were squeezing up and down your sides and across your tummy, Lizzie was tickling deep into your neck, Scar and Paul had just caught an arm each and pinned it upwards so they could tickle your underarms, big Tom was scratching under your knees and squeezing the tops, Evans was squeezing and scribbling into your hips, little Tom was scratching up and down your thighs and Hemsy and Robert had grabbed a foot each to tickle. It was pure torture.

“KEEP GOING, IT’LL WEAR DOWN EVENTUALLY!” Robert yelled over your screams of laughter. Everyone picked up the speed and you screamed louder than ever before.

You now had your arms and legs pinned by Scar, Paul, Robert and Hemsworth so you tried to buck your hips as much as possible and scrunch up your shoulders to protect your neck but it was no use.

“NOHOHOHO MOHOHORE!” You cried. You let out another loud scream and fell into a silent laughter. Tears filled your eyes to the point where you couldn’t even see Lizzie kneeling over you.

“Reboot complete,” Robert instructed. He stopped tickling your foot and one by one the rest of the cast followed and ceased their attack. You lay there, taking in deep breaths of air.

“You alright twisty?” Mackie asked, sliding up to your head. You nodded, letting out residue giggles. Evans gave you a hand up and propped you up against the sofa.

“You...are...all...evil…” you breathed out. Everyone chuckled.

“You were in a playful mood, we wanted to join,” Evans said, winking at you.

“I never knew you were so ticklish,” Hemsworth said.

“So would you be if 10 people ganged up on you,” you replied. He laughed and nodded in agreement. Little Tom sat down next to you.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling you in for a hug. You nodded.

“Yeah...that was fun,” you clamped your mouth shut after realising what you just said.

“Fun eh?” little Tom teased, quickly spidering your side to make you giggle again.

“We had fun too if that’s any consolation? Could go for round two if you want,” big Tom said. You looked at him and smiled.

“Not today I don’t think, you guys well and truly broke me,” you said, everyone laughed.

“I think I’ve already decided on the theme for next year,” Robert said. Everyone turned to him.

“Tickle Me Y/N,” he said, “where everyone has to bring a random object to tickle Y/N with. First to make her say stop wins.” He winked at you and you blushed and hid your head in little Tom’s shoulder. He chuckled and stroked your head.

“Now that will be a fun theme,” Mackie replied.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Nezu finding a younger Izuku and helping him hone his analysis skill (and build some confidence and ultimately creating a terrifying child who can analyze anyone in seconds and take them down just as fast with a smile) and then enlisting him to actually teach classes on the subject

just imagine Aizawa having to interact with this terrifying nightmare child who can read him better than a book

~Ah hell here we go again~ Read More Below!

Nezu doesn’t often leave UA’s grounds these days and even more rarely does he venture out unaccompanied in some way.  He has made it a habit of sorts to stay on the campus as much as possible ever since he solidified his hold on the school almost a decade ago.

It’s a move that is he admits, even if only to himself, fueled by equal parts pragmatism and paranoia.

After all UA has most of everything he needs within it already including a set of private apartments scaled just perfectly to his size and tastes despite what impression the large, human suited desk in his public office tends to give any visitors to his domain.  Why should he worry about venturing out into the city when anything the campus might not be able to provide for him can easily be procured by his minions dear employees or through delivery via secured drone?

And the fewer trips he makes off campus means the fewer opportunities there are for those who are still displeased with something someone such as himself holding such a position of power over such a prestigious hero school to take action.  He, of course, has all faith in his ability to protect himself from whatever ham-fisted assassin might come his way but Nezu is, above almost all else, pragmatic.

The fewer bodies left in his wake the smoother his daily life tends to run.

It had, after all, been such a pain to get the records from his time at the tender mercies of his human captors completely sealed and the quietly buried.

The humans involved in the case had finally agreed though and in the years since they did so like to tout how the illustrious UA Principle had been “rescued” from the laboratories.

Few remained who remembered what the heroes who’d raided that hellish place had actually found when they’d arrived.

Those unlucky few who did remember had long since been silenced by hook or by crook.  That had been one of the first things Nezu had done when he’d finally managed to accumulated enough power that his subtle threats and sharp toothed promises had finally come to hold real meaning on more than one level.

When he’d finally managed to bite and claw himself into a position of power that showed him as the threat he always had been for those who might dare cross him.

That had been the very first secret he’d ensured would be kept as it was one that posed the biggest threat to his reputations in a number of circles.

Nezu’s intellect wasn’t his only weapon after all, only his most dangerous. Though his teeth and claws could work in a pinch if the situation called for it.  And when they’d tried to take his eye it had certainly called for it.

A self professed level of resentment and sadism could be excused by most of humanity for someone of Nezu’s circumstances.

But a body count?  Well. That’s when humans tended to get ... tetchy. 

So while Nezu does, of course, have a residence of his own off campus for paperwork purposes and as a secondary fall back location, UA’s campus has been his unofficial residence for some number of years now.  And it will be his official one as well as soon as he manages to finally get the dorm system he’s been aching to implement passed through.

They will have to pry that school, his school, and what he’s attempting to build there from his cold, dead paws and whatever other insurance policies he manages to put into action between now and his inevitable death. Which will, of course, be some time in the far far future if he has anything to say or do about it.  And he will.

All of that aside there are times when leaving the campus is unavoidable, this being one of them.  An unfortunate scheduling conflict and a private meeting that absolutely had to be conducted in person had left him where he is now, strolling down the sidewalks of Musutafu and quietly lamenting how very oversized so many things were.

It truly was a pity that more accommodations had not been made for those whose quirks and circumstances of birth left them on the smaller side instead of on the larger scale.  But progress could be rather unfortunately slow and so it was just one more issue Nezu hoped to begin subtly influencing in the coming years.

He’s just turning a corner, intent on visiting a nearby cafe with an excellent tea selection before he returns to UA (one must have their indulgences and a good brew and a finely crafted cigarette have long been amongst Nezu’s chosen pleasures), when he hears it.

“Get back here and get what you deserve, Deku,” a voice, rough and young but edged with a viciousness that makes the backs of Nezu’s teeth itch, practically howls.

Nezu, attention instantly captured, pauses just long enough to avoid being mowed down by the child who comes tearing around the corner.

For a split second their eyes meet, a blazing green gaze Nezu can’t help but admire just a bit locking with his own, as the boy sees him and swerves to avoid running into Nezu in his obviously frantic escape.

Nezu hops backwards a half step just as the boy loses his footing and crashing painfully to the side walk beside him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” the boy half stutters, half pants as he looks up at him, eyes wide and seemingly uncaring of the blood Nezu can already smell on his scraped palms and likely ripped kneecaps.

“Are you?” Nezu asks back evenly, eyes tracking over the boy and instantly compiling details and facts as he takes in the tattered school uniform, the pale face, the singed backpack and the bruises he can see just peeking out from beneath unseasonal long sleeves.

Everything about the boy screams battered to Nezu’s sense.

And then he looks down at his feet and sees his shoes.

His distinctive red shoes at that, vibrant in color and thick soled, subtly different in make and construction than most ordinary shoes seen these days, much like the footwear Nezu himself wears even now.

Which means that this boy either has a quirk that affects his feet or ...

“Thought you were going to get away didn’t you, you Quirkless fuck?” A small group of boys rounds the corner then, ignoring Nezu entirely and focusing on the boy who abruptly goes even paler somehow.  “Just cause sensei couldn’t prove you cheated doesn’t mean we’re gonna let you get away with it.”

Ah, Nezu thinks even as he presses the urge to snarl down and away, option two then.

The green boy, because Nezu will not be calling him Deku even in his own mind, scrambled up onto his feet then.  But, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t turn to run.

Instead he edges forward just a bit, sliding a shoulder and a foot forward until he’s standing almost protectively in front of Nezu himself.

“K-Kacchan,” the green one stutters, “I-I didn’t cheat I s-swear!  I wouldn’t d-do that.”

“Tsk,” the blond leader, Kacchan, tisks then, a snarl thick and heavy on his young face.  At his sides his hands flex in a move Nezu knows must be related to his quirk.  “Bullshit.  No way you’d get top of the class in anything without cheating, you worm.”

Nezu has known this child for roughly 6 seconds and he finds that he does not care for him at all.  But then he’s never been overly fond of most of humanity either so perhaps that’s to be expected.

“H-Heroes don’t cheat,” Green insists, the naïve if well meant words sounding like a declaration.  “If I’m g-going to be a hero then I c-can’t either.”

That explanation only seems to enrage Kacchan even further if the way his hands begin to pop and crackle is anything to go by.

This, Nezu knows as the scent of burnt caramel begins to fill the air around them, is going to escalate quickly.

“Public quirk usage is ~illegal~,” Nezu singsongs as he steps around the green boy and plants himself firmly in front of him instead, abruptly drawing the blond boy and his followers attention toward him.  One paw slips into his vest pocket to remove the specially designed cell phone he’s never without.  “I would hate to be forced to report this to the proper authorities.”

Never mind that, technically, he is the proper authorities.

The blond glares at him for a long moment before he huffs.

“This isn’t over Deku,” he snarls.  “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

It’s an obvious threat but the boy turns on his heel, shoves his way through his friends, and stalks off back around the corner in the direction he came.

So Nezu lets it go.  For now.

“Now that that has been handled for the moment, young man,” Nezu turns towards the green boy beside him with all of the showmanship that’s come to define his patented introduction, “let me introduce myself! Am I a dog, a rat, or a bear? Either way I am Nezu th-”

“Y-You’re the Intel Hero Nezu,” the green boy says brightly, cutting Nezu’s introduction off even as he rubs raw and bloody palms against his black slacks and starts to dig through his backpack, “You solved the H-Hanamura kidnapping and the Inugami murders! You’re one of my favorite heroes!”

Nezu can’t help the way he stalls out just a bit at that because ... well he’s never been anyone’s favorite anything.  Their nightmare yes but not their favorite.  Especially not a child.  Children around this age normally tend to have more simplistic reactions to him.  And most of them don’t know about the string of rather gruesome ritualistic homicides he’d solved or the high profile kidnapping cases he consults on in his down time.

“C-Can you please sign my notebook?” the boy says then, head bowed low and a notebook and pen held out in Nezu’s direction.

Nezu admits to being slightly intrigued when he sees the way the cover is labeled Hero Analysis For The Future Vol 8.

That intrigue only grows when he opens it and his attention is immediately captured by the rather impressively done sketch of Pro Hero Starstreak that he finds there.

Unable to help himself Nezu reads over the page quickly and then keeps going.

Well now, Nezu can’t help but think just a bit gleefully as he sees the absolutely unbelieve level of analysis this young, quirkless boy has compiled, isn’t this interesting.

[mostlydysfunction]

From The Stars, Part  8

Summary: Kira moved out of town for isolation and peace and quiet. But that quickly gets turned on its head when a spaceship crash lands not far from her house and a strange creature decides she's its new queen. Luck had never been on Kira's side, but things are going to get a lot worse for her as she's forced into this new role and everything her new alien subject thinks it entails.

Warnings: Bodily fluids, hatching eggs, post-labor, talk of birth and mothering, some hinted at violence at the end. 

Authors Note: So this has been up on my Ao3 for ages, I’ve just been too lazy to post it here. For this story specifically, I suggest following on Ao3 cause it’s updated there faster than it is here. There’s a link on my masterlist. Also, if anyone wants to know what I modeled the babies after, I modeled them after the neomorph concept art that Colin Shulver did for Alien: Covenant. A close idea can be found here. 

MASTERLIST

Kira fades in and out for a while. She vaguely recognizes something moving her, the skin of her legs sticking together as she’s carried closer to her eggs. She still has the eighth in her arms, cradling it protectively. She registers their warmth, a solid mass against her back, hissing in her ear. She remembers pain, weakness. Her head heavy, eyes not staying open as she fades in and out.

She’s sure she’s dying. That has to be it. She had lost too much blood and now she was dying. The eggs had caused her to hemorrhage, and she was bleeding out on the floor of her barn. She waits for the bright light, the pearly gates, or even the lake of fire considering the past couple months, but none of that comes. She’s stuck in an inky darkness, her body slowly knitting itself back together again without her knowledge.

It’s light outside when Kira wakes.

She can see the light of the sun in the space near the window where the black substance hadn’t covered it completely. She feels exhausted, her body aching. She’s sticky, covered in something. Something in her arms is moving, shifting around. There’s something pressed against her back, solid and tough. She tries to move, her skin pulling as she attempts to stretch her legs. Something hisses in her ear, a clawed hand pressing against the floor in front of her. Things slowly begin to come back to her. She’d given birth to the eggs, and she had been sure she was dying. But here she was, however long after, alive and breathing.

Something nudges against the side of her head, making her groan at the movement. She slowly moves her upper body, her limbs unsticking from her torso. She’s still naked, but her skin is covered in some sort of almost resin-like substance. It wasn’t all that different from what was covering the inside of the barn. The eighth egg was still in her arms, still smaller than the others. Something inside of it was moving though, she could feel it bumping against the sides.

Kira slowly presses her body up and into a sitting position. The other seven eggs are arranged close to her, moving slightly as well as her babies move around inside. She watches as one of them cracks, lines spidering through the thick outer shell. She sits up on her knees, watching the shell crack and move, something pushing at it from the inside. Her alien leans over her, watching his spawn work its way out of its egg.

It finally makes its way out with a cry, shrill and high. Kira looks at the creature, something inside her stirring as she looks at it. It’s small, no longer than her forearm. It’s pale, almost white. Its head is oblong like its father, but shorter, ending at a sharp point instead of the rounded curve. It stares up at her with big black eyes, its face almost human like. Its mouth opens wider than any human jaw could, revealing sharp, razor-like teeth. It has a small nose in between its wide eyes and mouth, its body built more like its father’s, lean and delicate looking but with a hard exoskeleton. A tail whips behind it, smooth unlike its father’s.

Kira reaches out a hand, a five-fingered clawed hand reaching out towards her. The other eggs are cracking, the feeling swelling in Kira’s chest as she touches her baby’s hand with a finger.

This was her child.

These were her children.

Her babies.

She watches with her alien as the others claw their way out of their eggs, looking very similar to their oldest sibling, near replicas. The feeling inside Kira builds as she looks at each one, touching each one of them. They’re sticky from the inside of their eggs, but their skin is strangely smooth, almost like human skin.

The eighth egg is the last to crack, her last child struggling to fight its way out. She reaches forward to help it, but a clawed hand wraps around her arm, yanking it back. She’s held against her alien’s chest, forced to watch her child struggle to leave its egg. She feels her heart clench in her chest, wanting desperately to help it, but she can’t.

Finally, it makes its way through, this one smaller than the others, its limbs slightly too long compared to its body, not quite as evenly proportioned as its siblings. The runt of the litter. But despite this, she loves it. It lets out a weak cry, trying to get its legs under it properly. Her alien’s head brushes her shoulder as he watches, still holding her back.

Eventually her smallest baby gets its feet under it, unsteady slightly, but standing. Kira’s alien releases her, crawling over to their babies. They let out high-pitched cries, reaching towards his face as he leans down towards them. Kira watches, emotions bubbling in her chest as she watches her babies and their father. Her alien hisses at them quietly, their hands touching his face, tails whipping back and forth as they get acquainted with him.

After a few moments they all turn to look at her, Kira’s eyes going wide as they all rush at her, clambering over each other to get into her lap. She’s helpless as the eight tiny bodies climb onto her, gripping at her skin with clawed fingers. She quickly numbs herself to the pain, nothing more than insect bites as she holds her babies in her arms. She doesn’t care that she’s still naked and covered in dried fluids and sticky resin. These were her babies. Her children.

Nothing was going to stop her from holding them.

***********

Kira sits in the bottom of the shower, letting hot water run over her. She’s tired, her body still aching from forcing out eight large eggs. She can’t fathom how she’d managed to not only carry eight eggs seemingly to term and birth them when humans weren’t supposed to be able to do that. The amount of blood she had lost had to be more than a human could withstand, but yet, here she was, scrubbing said blood from her thighs.

When she had pictured becoming a mother before this wasn’t what she had pictured. Birthing alien-spawn in her barn and then feeding them ground beef within hours of their hatching wasn’t exactly what she had been prepared for. But she can’t bring herself to complain. She can’t bring herself to find it strange. Those were her alien-spawn. They carried some of her DNA, since they weren’t exact replicas of their father. Somehow they had developed partly from her and partly from him to become what they hatched as.

It didn’t matter to her what they were, though. She loved them. She would do anything for them. Anything.

There’s a sharp pain in her head before she gets the feeling of being hungry. No, it’s not her that’s hungry, she realizes. It’s her babies.

She climbs out of the shower, wrapping herself in a robe. She tries not to stare too long in the mirror. She’s pale and there are bags under her eyes. She looks like she’s been through hell. Like she’d been deathly ill. It’s good. She can use that to firm up her story.

She makes her way down to the kitchen, her own stomach growling. She looks through the fridge, the milk and raw meat she had subsisted on for a month suddenly unappetizing. She’d have to do some shopping, it appeared.

After foraging through the stacks of meat, she finds some bread, deciding on some toast. Just as she’s pulling out the jelly there’s a knock on her door. She looks down, realizing she’s still in her robe, but she can’t bring herself to care. The feeling in her mind is still thrumming, crying out for food. She pushes it aside as she goes to the door, seeing two familiar agents standing on her doorstep.

“Ms. Matthews.” One of them says. She can’t for the life of her bring up their names in her memory.

“Are you alright? You look...” The other doesn’t finish his sentence, his unspoken words implying enough.

“I’ve been sick.” Kira says, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The first agent says. “We hate to bother you, but we just wanted to check on you and see if anything had happened since we last spoke.”

Kira tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, anything strange? Unexplainable?”

Kira shakes her head. “No, not that I can think of.”

“Your neighbors called to report some strange sounds that were coming from this property a few days ago. The local police sent an officer to investigate, but he never returned. His car is parked half a mile down the road. He knocked, but there was no answer.”

She nods. “I was probably asleep. I’ve been taking some heavy duty medicines. Knocks me out real good.”

The second agent nods, and she can tell he doesn’t quite believe her. “Right. Well, we have a warrant to search the house, if you don’t mind.”

Kira shrugs, taking a step back, letting them in. “Please, go right ahead.”

Kira stands in the living room while the agents look through her house. All the while the cries of hunger are getting more and more insistent, making her wince slightly. She wants to help them, but she doesn’t know how. But then it hits her.

“The house is empty.” The first agent says, coming back to the living room.

The second agent is standing by the back door, looking out at the yard. “The barn looks different.”

Kira steps into the dining room. “Yes, I was doing some renovations before I got sick. You’re more than welcome to go have a look if you want.”

Like she said. She would do anything.

Part 9

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S��wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[badapricot]

Lovely Writer: Special 1

This is a rough translation of the first Lovely Writer special. There are 8 in total and other side stories that the author compiled. I’ll try to post 1 a week since they do vary in length, and some are a lot lengthier than this one.

This special is from Nubsib’s POV and it’s about Nubsib remembering his feelings for Gene after seeing him on Facebook, and becoming fixated. Nubsib is 15 at the time and Gene is 20.

At that time, I was in the ninth grade.

Since middle school, my parents had sent me to study abroad with my brother. Because of the wealth of my family, this was never an inconvenience. But living alone in a place that wasn’t your home country required a lot of adjustment, mainly doing everything on your own. You had to learn things that you’ve never seen and known. 

This was one of the methods of teaching the sons of the Thanakitpaisan family.

It was their luck to have a son who was mature since childhood. It didn't take long for me to get used to the culture there, where I went to parties, attended sports clubs, worked a part-time job, and even had typical American teen sex. Being Asian did give me some advantages, when it came to distinguishing myself from the others.

I could only smile when talking to the many blonde women who bragged about our experiences in bed, amongst their group of friends. After some time, I felt differently about it.

"Sib.”

"Yes?" I leaned back on the sofa, and raised my head from his screen when I heard my name.

Neung came downstairs. He was wearing a thick gray cardigan with a scarf. "I’m going to go meet a friend. You're not going anywhere today, right? "

"Hmm."

"Okay, I might be coming back late. Please get my package when it arrives. You’re not going out with your girlfriend, right?”

"We broke up.”

"Huh?” Neung frowned. "You dumped another one? Again? You know, you don’t have the face of a womanizer.”

"…"

Neung opened the door of the house. For a moment, the cool outside air blew in, until the hot air from the heater disappeared. I didn’t care much about either, and stayed looking at my phone screen.

I’m not a womanizer.

It’s just that every time I got together with a girlfriend, something felt wrong. I knew I wasn’t in love with the first girl. The others, I didn’t like particularly much. Sometimes the girls didn’t like me much either, and only wanted a partner themselves, so we’d eventually separate.

It was true, that I was only in the ninth grade. But sex here was too normalized. It had become so normal that I’d become bored. When sex became so commonplace, all excitement was lost.

Mom: (send picture)

Mom: I’ve sent you Thai ingredients that should be delivered soon. They’ll be waiting for you.

Mom: Today, I went to see Aunt Run, do you still remember the house next door? Today is the Aunt's birthday. All of her sons have come home.

Mom: I saw it and I missed you and Neung.

I looked at the message that popped up, from the other side of the world. It was dark here, but over there it was probably in the middle of the day. It was time for them to eat.

Mom: Do you remember Gene? Gene and Jap are all grown up.

Gene?

After reading my mother’s message, it was natural to think of the past. I missed it. During my childhood I would run and play with him everyday, and just the same, Gene would play with me almost every day.

I still remembered “P’Gene” clearly after all these years.

We were five years apart. But we somehow became closer than me and my own brother. Since I moved out of the house, we never saw each other again. We didn’t have any more contact with each other.

When my mother talked about that time, I felt nostalgic.

I moved my finger to type to ask for a picture from my mother. In the end, I sent a simple sticker. I sat on the sofa in the living room for awhile before retiring to my bedroom to shower.

In my warm bedroom,  so different from the night air outside, I picked up my phone again. I went to Facebook to catch up with everything back home. My finger kept scrolling through my news feed, my face blank. I started to feel sleepy, but before I could fall asleep I saw a status.

I wasn’t friends with the person who posted. But I was friends with his mother, who was tagged in the photo.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture.

This year, my mother has lost another year, haha.

In the picture was a group of six people. The background was a wide garden and a long table. Both of my parents, and Auntie Run and Uncle Teep were there. But the one that most caught the eye was the man in the lower right corner.

The other person grinned until his eyes were crescents. His hands were raised, flashing a peace sign. His hand held a cake tray with a delicious golden egg. The corner of the mouth was stained with white cream, like he was teasing someone. He was smiling, which made his cheeks round and full.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him. For a second, there was a strange numbness in my fingertips and toes.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me who that was.

P’Gene.

He was still wearing a white uniform shirt. It had been many years since we’d met, if counted by age. Gene would have been in university for three years.

Usually, I was the kind of person who didn’t care about the people around me, or anyone else. But this time, I couldn't control my fingertips. I clicked onto Jap’s Facebook page.

Chasing him down, I found a status posted with the person I was looking for tagged.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture

My brother brought me to the movies. What kind of crazy alien movie is this? I might puke, but maybe you guys on Facebook will like it.

The post was from three days ago. One was a picture of a cinema ticket on the top floor of a department store in the heart of Bangkok and the other was of P’Gene in a T-shirt and jeans. He hugged a bucket of popcorn. His hand was holding a large glass of water, lifting it up to his lips and sucking. It was a funny candid photo that many of his friends on Facebook commented on to make fun of him.

...but for me, the only word that came to mind was “lovely”.

I didn’t know why I was doing this but I pressed “save that image”.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture

My stupid little brother, you make the whole house look bad.

They were in a garden in the corner of the house that felt familiar to me, but was a little fuzzy. They were in front of a flower bush that had been trimmed into a square. Gene was sitting down, with his butt on the ground. A blue hose fell next to him, the hose spraying in another direction. It made him wet all over soaking his shirt, the thin material clinging to his body.

Both of his arms were behind him, to support his body. Therefore, his shirt and body were stretched, so I could see two small nubs contrasted and poking through his white shirt.

My eyebrows furrowed together, and I frowned.

I cursed when my body immediately had a strong reaction, just from the one picture.

I pressed the comment section, when I saw the high number of comments.

Jiranon Jarernpipat: Jap stop posting pictures of other people.

(Reply) Jap Jarernpipat attached video clip.

I clicked play immediately.

"Ow, P’Jap!”

“Hahaha, why would you say you’ll help me water the plants? You can help if the grass is dead.”

“Can you turn off the water for me first? Why are you recording?”

P’Gene raised his white hand. He wiped the water from his face, and pushed himself off  the ground. His shirt clung to his body, so I could see everything. He had the voice of a man, but he was still so cute.

Finally, the clip ended.

There were still a lot of other videos that Jap posted pranking Gene, all of which stopped me from becoming bored. I saved all of them to my phone and computer. In the end, when more and more accumulated, I created a whole separate folder.

That night when I fell asleep, my brain was filled with pictures of the boy next door, who I hadn’t seen in years.

Another morning, days later, I woke up frowning, and I had to gently breathe out. I’d dreamt of P��Gene again. Since seeing that picture that night, there hadn’t been a day where I could go without seeing his face.

I knew Gene’s Facebook. But he didn’t update much, except to change his avatar or cover photo. But Jap’s Facebook page had tons of pictures of Gene. So I was still able to look at Gene’s pictures and progress in life everyday, like some kind of psychopath.

Even when I closed my eyes to sleep sometimes, I still saw his pictures.

I didn’t want to be this way, but I couldn’t control my subconscious.

I always saw Gene lying in my wide bed. He would smile at me, his cheeks soft and reddish. His hands would hold on to me, and his mouth would gently say, “Sib.”

It was a fantasy that any teenage boy would have. But it wasn’t a woman. Instead, it was the boy next door, who always loved and saw me as a brother.

I circled back to look at his pictures every day. In the end, the feeling accumulated like a huge mountain of snow.

I want to meet him in real life.

I want to hug him.

I want to smell him. 

I want to kiss his mouth. I want to do to him what I do in my dreams.

Since the day I saw his picture and until today, my thoughts and feelings had become more and more intense. So intense, that sometimes I was afraid of myself.

I’d already decided how I’d deal with this.

“Will you finish school here?” Neung had packed all his bags and was ready to go because he finished his studies. I leaned against the door frame, looking into his room.

“Actually, it’s nice here too, you know.”

"No, I'm going home."

“So you’ve changed your mind then?”

I nodded.

“Well, our house is nice and of course, our parents miss you too.”

"…"

"I'm not going to be here anymore, don't bring any women into the house...but you're not dating any girls lately. So it's fine."

I sent off my brother, who took a taxi straight to the airport to go back home to Thailand. Personally, I still had a year to complete my studies.

In the past, I had never thought or worried about how fast or slow time would pass. But now, I felt jealous of my brother.

Back at the house, I picked up the phone. I was still for a while. Maybe it was because Neung had returned to Thailand, but I felt like chasing pictures wasn’t enough anymore. My fingers moved before I could decide to send a message to someone.

Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: P'Jap.

Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: Do you remember me?

I wanted to talk to someone who could tell me everything about P’Gene. 

I wanted to learn everything about him.

[rosyl-stuff]

The Hate Between Us

Paring: Jeong Yunho (Ateez) x reader

Genre: forbidden love, fantasy, The Little Mermaid inspired (not really a retelling), a bit angsty, a bit fluffy

Warnings: violence (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 1.9k (7-8 minutes reading time)

Synopsis: You are a siren who needs to rip out the hearts of humans as a tribute to the Sea Queen. Yunho is a pirate who hunts sirens. Will you two find your happily ever after?

It was a peaceful night. When you broke through the surface of the water, you were not immediately blinded by the sun, so you could spot Yunho straight away. He was standing up to his ankles in the water and wandering around waiting for you.

When your paths first crossed, it was anything but peaceful. You were on the lookout for prey because the Sea Queen was expecting tribute again. Every year, each siren had to prove their loyalty by bringing her a heart of a human. It was the only way to get recognition in your world. Everything else did not matter. Love did not exist for heartless monsters. From a young age, you tore out the hearts of sailors, pirates and sometimes princes who were on adventures so that the sea queen would recognise you as worthy.

Yunho was a pirate. But not just any pirate. He was part of a notorious siren hunter crew. They were known for their swift and brutal style. None of the captured Sirens ever came back alive. A few were given as trophies and compensation for old crimes to the various royal houses of humans. There they were kept in small pools of water and put on display. Sometimes they were even hunted for fun in those pools. Those that were not given away alive died on the ship while their scales were removed. Siren scales have healing properties for humans and were a much sought-after commodity for which people were willing to pay a lot. This is how Yunho and his crew earned their living.

However, they were not the only ones with this business idea. Other pirates quickly followed suit and, pirate fights in waters where sirens frequented became more common. One of these fights took place when you were actually looking for prey. Both crews were too busy fighting each other to notice you. It was an easy game for you. The first pirate to fall into the water, you would grab and rip out his heart before they drowned. You didn't have to wait long until the first one fell into the water. He tried to swim but wasn't very good at it. There was also a big gash on his side. You quickly swam to him and pulled him further into the depths. When you saw his face for the first time, you hesitated. Most people looked at you with love because they were still under the spell of your singing. But he only looked at you curiously. He didn't seem to be afraid either. His face was angelic and, you couldn't help but look at him a little longer. You had hesitated too long because the next moment a harpoon shot only a few centimetres past you. One of the pirates Yunho was fighting against had followed you into the water. He could swim and dive well and was moving towards you. Without giving it a second thought, you swam away with Yunho in tow. He had run out of air by then and fainted. You laid his motionless body on a rock. You didn't want to risk getting caught by any of the pirates and decided to go somewhere else to get your heart for the sea queen, so you abandoned him there.

Luckily for him, his crew found him quickly and, he survived. The lack of oxygen had made him forget what exactly had saved him. He could only remember your face, but he kept it to himself, even though he dreamt of you every night.

As you still did not bring a heart to the sea queen, you were pressed for time and became more careless. So it happened that you were caught in a net and pulled out of the water onto a ship. You tugged at the net, but no matter what you did, it wouldn't let up. When the net was pulled off your head, you saw his face a second time. He recognised you and, you could see his inner conflict in his eyes. You stopped struggling and wondered if it would help to beg him. He glanced over his shoulder at his comrades. Then he held his hand in front of your face. "I know I owe you one. Now bite my hand and then get off the boat and swim as far away as you can." You hesitated while Yunho gave you an encouraging nod. He moved his hand gently to your lips. Then you bit gently into it. "Harder!" he growled, "It's supposed to be realistic!" You obeyed and, his face contorted in pain. Then he cried out and at the same time pushed you back into the water. You swam away as fast as you could. You tasted his blood for days to come and, his face wouldn't let you go now either. You had heard stories of soul mates. Was he perhaps yours?

So you couldn't help but stay close to the ship all the time. Never too close because Yunho probably wouldn't help you a second time. One night he sat alone on the deck and stared into the far distance of the ocean. Your heart longed to see his face. So you carefully swam closer, fervently hoping that no one was sitting by the radar and that everyone else was asleep. Yunho noticed you embarrassingly early. He grinned at you: "Can't stay away from me, I guess."

So you spent almost every night together. Except when you had to fetch a heart, then you disappeared for a while. In the beginning, Yunho was sure that one day you would get his heart and that you just enjoyed playing with your prey. But you also doubted Yunho's sincerity. After all, you saw him regularly dragging sirens out of the water with his crew and killing them. At any time, one of you could become the victim of the other. Nevertheless, you began to trust each other. Yunho was actually a very gentle person and, his brutal way of life affected him more than he wanted to admit to his crew and especially his captain. It was different with you because he could tell you everything without being judged or called weak. You simply listened and comforted him. You were fascinated by his stories and loved to listen to him. But what you liked most was that he simply liked you. You didn't have to prove yourself to be noticed by him. When you were together, it was just the both of you and not the suffering your species caused each other.

But it was not only the hatred of your species that kept you apart. Yunho had no fin, could not breathe underwater and was a terrible swimmer, even if he tried to get better. You had no legs and couldn't move at all on land. Every time Yunho's ship docked at a port, you met in a small, hidden bay. There you could be closest to each other and, the risk of being caught was lowest.

Tonight was one of those nights. You watch Yunho pacing back and forth. Sometimes you wondered what your legs would look like. Would they be as long as Yunho's or be more on the short side? Would you have muscular thighs like him or, would they be thick or thin like other humans? Sometimes it was the other way round and, you wondered what his tail fin would look like. What colour would it be?

Yunho spotted you and in an instant, a grin spread across his face. He got deeper into the water. You swam towards him. When Yunho was waist-deep in the water, you reached him. Without effort, he grabbed your waist and pulled you out of the water so that you were at eye level. You wrapped your arms around your neck and smiled at him.

"Hi love!" he murmured and put his lips on yours.

It was a very loving kiss.

"I missed you!" you breathed against his lips.

"I missed you too!" he murmured and gave you another quick kiss.

You gently stroked his hair and couldn't really stop grinning. Yunho noticed this and asked,

"Did something good happen today?"

You nodded, yet you hesitated. Yunho wanted you to be careful because you would be executed immediately if anyone found out about you. Yunho was close friends with his crew and the captain. They might be angry or disappointed, but they probably wouldn't kill him. Cautious was not a quality you would use to describe yourself. Especially when it came to finding a solution to your problem.

"Now tell me! What have you done?"

"I was in the forbidden library!"

Yunho sighed. As the name suggested, no one but the Sea Queen was allowed to enter the library. But you had managed to bribe one of the guards to let you in. You took your time and looked for a way for you and Yunho to be together.

"Don't worry, everything went well," you said to reassure Yunho.

"And what if it hadn't gone well? Y/N, you have to stop putting yourself in danger like this."

You pouted. Yunho sighed and gave you another kiss.

"Go on, spit it out! What have you found out?"

You gave him a big smile and, he couldn't help but smile right back at you.

“I found a way to make a potion. The potion will give me legs,” you said excitedly.

Yunho looked at you surprised: “Really? What about the ingredients? Are we able to get them without dying?”

You nodded: "Yes, most of them grow on the land, but with your help, it should be no problem!"

Yunho still looked sceptical.

“Come on, Yunho. Please be happy about it. It won't hurt trying it. None of the ingredients is poisonous."

"I'm just worried. There has to be a catch. I highly doubt a potion will just give legs with no side effects."

And he was right. You tried to hide it, but Yunho noticed it right away. He gave you a soft kiss on the cheek as you avoided eye contact.

“What is the side effect?” he asked you softly.

“Please let us try anyway.”

“Tell me first!” Yunho demanded.

You knew arguing wouldn’t bring you anywhere, so you sighed and said: “If I get my legs, every step I take will feel like I’m walking on broken glass.”

You breathed out audibly and pulled you closer to him.

“You know that will be very painful?" he asked.

You just nodded, even if you have never felt how a piece of glass cute into your body. But it can’t be worse than the pain you felt in your heart when you and Yunho are not together.

“I don’t think I can let you do that!” he mumbled into your hair.

“Please,” you begged, “I don’t want to be separated from you any longer. I want to be together with you.”

“You know that I want that as well. I just don’t want you to suffer the rest of your life," he said with a sigh, "Let me think about it, ok?"

You nodded and gave him a feverish kiss. The discussion was over for now and, you both concentrated on giving each other all the love you could.

Maybe you would find another way to be together. Find a way to bring peace to your species. Maybe you are the start of a change. Maybe you find your happily ever after or, you end up in a tragic love story.

Or you are just another story for hopeless romantics?

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one. If you liked the concept, I would recommend reading "To Kill A Kingdom" by Alexandra Christo.

[hit-me-with-a-ladle]

Ch. 8 Creepypastas x Fem! reader

Sorry I've been gone for so long. My grandfather died a month ago and I wasn't in the right mindset to write. But I'm back and ill do my best. Thank you all for your patients. Anyway, enjoy<3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the week progressed, the girl found that it was the slightest bit easier to read through Masky's facade. Though that did not mean that she could thoroughly read him quite yet, she made it a challenge that eventually she would. Masky himself became lenient at first as to mind her injuries. But the moment she started to heal, it was all back to the ruthless nature of his work. Finally, when the week ended, she got informed that someone else was going to teach her. That person turned out to be Ben, the blond-headed boy that seemed too eager to meet her.

An early sensation lurked in the air the moment she woke up, groggily walking to the bathroom and taking a well-deserved shower. The feeling of all of the previous days' dirt and grime washing off her punctured flesh was refreshing. Her mind was finally clear, able to freely think and dwell on her current predicament without any outside interference. The hot water trickled down her naked body, soothing her as she thought of any way she could escape. But no matter how hard she thought, deep down she knew that the only way she could truly leave was to stay a little longer to devise a plausible plan.

Sadness overtook her body, hot tears streaming down her already wet face intertwining with the water droplets from the showerhead. She'd been able to withhold her tears for a while now, not wanting to give those bastards the satisfaction. But as her current position set in her mind once more, she couldn't hold it in. It was like a never-ending loop. After being rudely introduced and forced to spend a week being trained to the bone by two different killers, she had to repeat the process with another. It felt like her own personal hell.

Feeling the scalding hot water turn cold was an indicator that it was time to get ready. Not giving a damn if she was late. Stepping out of the shower with a huff, she looked at herself in the full-body mirror. Steam covered its surface from head to toe. Though, no matter how blurry, the rough outline of all the large scars, cuts and a few red bruises that littered her body were still very much visible. The feeling and texture of her once somewhat clear skin was now a distant memory in her mind. Slowly tracing all of the scars with the tip of the rugged fingers she winced when she made contact with a few of the most recent injuries.

Getting dressed in the same greyish jump-suit she has been washing and wearing for the last few days, she went to eat breakfast. But before leaving her bedroom she looked at the nightstand, there laid the old pocket watch he gave her. For some reason, he didn't want to take it when she offered it back. Shrugging her shoulders she put it in her right pocket and headed downstairs. Reaching the kitchen, noticing that Masky must have left early. Not paying any mind to his disappearance she carried on with her day. Eating the meal she prepared for herself. Sitting there on the dining table, in total silence, patiently staring at the clock. Ben still hadn't arrived. He was already ten minutes late, to begin with, which was a significant tonal shift from Masky, who was extremely punctual and despised tardiness. After what felt like hours, a loud crash was heard that made the girl's ears perk up as she ran to the living room. Their laying spread eagle, on the front of the old television, was none other than Ben.

" What happened, how did you get in here?" The girl quickly said while helping him up. " Dammit, forgot how small the damn television was." He said under his breath, ignoring her previous question. Getting on his feet he brushed himself off giving the girl a better look. Unlike the other two men, he was significantly shorter, 162 to 165 cm or 5'4-5'5 feet tall. Medium length golden hair under a long green hat and sharp pointy elf-like ears. His pale white skin looked ceramic, almost like a doll's and thin lips with a button nose. He seemed considerably young, but she assumed that he most likely was about eighteen years of age. Though, what caught her attention were his round black eyes that had a speck of red in them that acted as pupils. He was dressed as an elf, with his bright green tunic, forest green pants and leather belt neatly tied around his waist that held a small satchel type bag.

Looking in her direction he flashed her a creepy smile that showed off his white teeth. The girl didn't know how to react to his sudden action, as she felt discomfort all around her body, shifting her weight awkwardly she chose to ask him again. " How the hell did you manage to get in here without me hearing you?" " Well, I did the same thing I'm gonna' be teaching you today. Sorcery or magic. Whatever word floats your boat." " Magic? As in witchcraft, like spells and potions?" " Yup. I mean I know Jack already told you this so I don't know why you're so shocked." He snickered, it sounded distorted. " Yeah, I remember but I didn't actually expect-not that I didn't think that it would be magic-it is just that this is all so strange, I can't believe it." " Believe it, cuz I'm gonna' be teaching ya some spells. Follow me now out the back door." He spoke loudly, shaking his hands in a flamboyant manner.

Walking swiftly to the kitchen towards the back door. The girl was visibly confused as she followed suit. Why did they have to go through the back door, it was all quite strange. Stepping out, she noticed the rather large, wooden table a few meters in front of them. Its surface is covered in all kinds of trinkets, herbs and plants. " What's all of this for?" She said, approaching the table. "I got Masky to set it up before he left, we're gonna be needing some of this stuff so I can show you the ropes and basically help you understand the basics of making potions. A skill you'd need for survival." He answered while picking up a bunch of the items off the table and stuffing them in the bag. " Oh, what do we have here?" He said excitedly under his breath " Is it Raskovnik? My god it is. I know what i'll be teaching you first now, don't I. '' He started with a laugh as he made his way towards the trees. " Where are we going now?" " To the brewery. Do you really think you will be making risky positions in front of the cabin? You humans are actually the dumbest creatures."

The girl's face scrunched up in annoyance but still kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to try and argue with these people. Biting down on her tongue she got drawn in by the scenery like most times she was out in the forest. Autom was soon approaching so the wind had started to pick up the past few days, it made the multicoloured leaves on the trees dance as it passed. It calmed her as it passed through her body. Taking in a large breath she smiled and carried on behind Ben. Dogging trees and branches as there was no pathway in this part of the forest.

" Did you get the plant?" Ben spoke up after a while, cutting the calm silence. " Sorry, what?" " Were you the one that got the Raskovnik?" He repeated the question louder. " Oh, well yeah. I got it a while back as a part of my training with Masky." She replied quickly walking to his side. " Figures. Maskys is the type to make others do his dirty work." He muttered bitterly. But the girl was still able to hear it. " So you have a bad relationship with him?" " You could say that. Most of us do. The scumbag." The air started to tense. " I guess you could call him that. But he's not always that bad, he has his moments I guess." " Not that bad? Tell me, how did you manage to get that big ass gash on your neck." He harshly replied, pointing his leather-gloved hand to her neck. She quickly covered it and looked to the side. Not responding. " As I said, he's an absolute scumbag." " Well if it isn't stepping over a boundary, mind telling me why he's so bad." " Well, to begin with, he's a sadistic prick that only cares for himself. He broke into my house and stole some of the VERY rear herbs that took me YEARS to collect. And worst of all, he's the dog of The Operator." His face darkened when he mentioned The Operator's name. " The Operator? Whos that?" The girl quickly asked, lowering her hand and looking at him with a confused look on her face. " He's one of the most powerful beings to even exist. The embodiment of evil." " So like the devil?" " No, he's not the devil, the devil is a different being, but he's still terrifying." " Why do they call him The Operator then?" " Well, like. I don't really know how to explain this to you but, imagine this forest being a very large city. Y’know how every city has a mayor or someone in charge that leads it. Well, that's what The Operator really is. The Operator isn't his real name but a nickname given to him."

With that they finally stepped into a small grass filled clearing where in the middle, was a very small cottage covered in vines, plants and flowers. The old wood that it was made of was held up the multitude of plants, securing it firmly. The half-rounded door was nicely placed in the front, a yellow brick pathway leading to it, with a square window to the side. They quickly approached the door, the girl's breath taken by the beauty. The inside itself was small, shelves were on every side of the walks, each holding a plethora of books, trinkets, herbs and plants. It was relatively messy but still easy to walk in. A cauldron was in the middle of the room with a desk stacked with papers, pens, and scrolls.

Placing the Rascovnik and emptying his bag on the desk, Ben looked at the girl. " So let's begin I guess." He said walking to the medium-sized cauldron. " What are we going to do exactly?" She quickly asked as her eyes followed him, as he walked around the cottage collecting different ingredients and placing them on the desk. " Well, you're not going to be doing anything, just taking notes." Tossing a notepad at her. " While I prepare something and explain the different things you'll need to know." " Yeah that's great but am I going to be quizzed the same way Masky quizzed me because I need to know what I should expect." She said frantically, firmly grasping the notepad to her chest. " Nah, you're not. I don't do quizzes or tests, I like doing things spontaneously y'know. And plus taking notes will help you understand things more, so just write down herb and spell names, important details and whatever else will help ya remember. K?" " Ok, I guess." Anxiety began to dwell in her mind, as she looked around. " Readdy?" He said walking in front of the cauldron, giving her a slightly crooked reassuring smile.

[whatgaviiformes]

Firefly’s Glow - Part 1/?

For @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment and because I am desperate to post something to get my groove going again.

 📦 trapped in a box requested by Janetm74 / How about ⏳ - time’s running out and 📦 - trapped in a box with some Scott&Gordon? – requested by Tsarinatorment

A/N: Author’s Note - Okay, first I hope it’s ok that I combined these asks. Second, I know this is strange. End notes included to explain. Also, I have and by extension Gordon has a potty mouth. I promise I edited most of them out. 

*****

Less than a minute.

Gordon could work miracles in less than a minute. In 51.2 seconds, he went from Gordon Tracy, son of the late Jefferson Tracy, to Gordon Tracy, Olympic Gold Medalist representing the United States of America. He’d let the muscular pull, push, recovery rhythm of the butterfly stroke propel him past world records.

But of course he never really had to think about how to move through water.

Focus.

He had shackles to pick.

“You’re running out of time, Gordon Tracy.”

Damn it all.

Now the Hood was just being rude. It was Virgil’s face and voice that taunted him– though it really wasn’t his voice because Virgil could never speak to Gordon with a tone so laced with malice. Ire, sure. Hatred and malevolence, no way in hell.

Gordon would tear the Hood apart for stealing his brother’s voice, starting with a solid right hook in his snickering mug once he got out this.

Arms crossed, the Hood had a timer in one hand and an unrecognizable gun in the other. Though Gordon knew guns, he couldn’t recognize this one from the quick glance he’d spared. He’d had no time to look.

35 seconds.

He could do this. In that amount of time he’d saved an electrified Thunderbird 2 from a free fall by redocking his pod in the plummeting behemoth and connecting their computer systems to regain control. He hadn’t needed time to think, just react – his brother’s life was dependent on Thunderbird 2’s survival.

His brother whose voice was stolen by a madman.

“My, my, didn’t my niece teach you better than that?”

Leave Kayo out of this, you stupid, greedy, motherf - His survival thus far had been a little bit Kayo, a little bit Parker, and a whole lot of Brains. Parker for the lock picking knowledge, Kayo for the speed and survival tactics, Brains for the lock pick built into the bottom of his boots.

And sure, maybe a little bit of his own survival training helped.

A minute to remove the shackles in exchange for freedom. 60 seconds. Gordon could save lives in 60 seconds. He can, and will, save his own.

15 seconds left.

“Tick tock.”

His hands fumbled with the small pick between his fingers and the awkward angle of a lock he couldn’t even see, only feel.

8

7

6

Click!

The shackles came free and fell to the ground with a clatter. Gordon panted, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Very good. Perhaps, you have some worth to me after all.”

“But-”

“Oh, I was never going to let you go, Gordon Tracy. But thank you for the…” Virgil-that’s-not-really-Virgil waved a hand towards Gordon’s shoes. “Demonstration.”

Rage welled up inside him.

It was Virgil’s face, sure, but Gordon had punched Virgil before. Hell, Virgil had punched him before. And the man in front of him wasn’t really Virgil anyway. So, Gordon launched himself at the Hood, preparing to attack.

In his anger, he’d forgotten about the gun. He wouldn’t have entered a gunfight with his fists if he remembered. Taking out your opponent 101.  His WASP superior officers would have been sorely disappointed in him.

Sans his standard yellow baldric (because the Hood had taken that from him too), Gordon gasped at the sudden impact that hit his chest. Even though the projectile’s force wasn’t enough to drive him back, the gun, intended for mid-range, packed a hell of a punch, and there was a terrifying moment when Gordon looked down at his body and expected to see blood. Instead, the dart protruding from his left pectoral carried a blue liquid, an injection of something. He didn’t know what, and somehow, that thought was even less comforting.

The swift lethargy that flowed through his muscles slowed him as the drug hit.

Gordon crumpled to the dirty cement floor as Virgil cackled in his ear, and all went black.

*****

Gordon’s love of the sea came first from the fact that the sea was so different from the plains of Kansas, secondly that it was a part of the Earth itself he loved so much. and thirdly – and most importantly– because the first time he stepped into the rushing waves of the ocean it had been like finally learning to breathe.

Gordon had learned to appreciate all of Earth’s life at a young age. He was never a rescue scout like Scott, as there was a bit too much focus on badgework for his tastes, but his youth was spent making mud pies, watching bird’s nests, and observing caterpillar chrysalises all the same.

The summer Gordon was six, Scotty had taken him out to the barn late at night and showed him how to make a lantern of fireflies. Their adventure pack (really Scott’s school bag, repurposed) held a flashlight, mason jars, a couple pieces of mesh to put overtop the glass, and two bug nets.  

No brothers were allowed – this was for him and Scotty only.

He’d abandoned the bug net for his hands pretty quickly, and within a few minutes, he’d managed to catch five or so for his lightning bug lantern. Of course, Scott had managed to catch more because he was older and also because he’d shared this memory with all his brothers and this was only Gordon’s first time.

It had been so pretty, the fireflies dancing in the mason jar, their lights slowly dimming and brightening in a mellow cadence that soothed his soul. But then, he realized their little bodies, which were used to flying around in the expanse of the sky, were suddenly confined to the glass container of the jar. And he saw not beauty but pain.  

It was a lovely, bittersweet memory he kept close to his heart because it represented a key moment of his youth: first growing up with Scott as an older brother and also the first time he’d felt a creature’s cry reach him. It was the same wail he felt when he read about oil spills off the coast of Alaska and illegal fishing nets that should not still be in use, and, god, the absolute trash humanity left in the oceans for poor sea turtles to choke over.

Scott hadn’t understood where the tears came from suddenly, but Gordon remembered his brother kneeling in front of him so their eyesight was level, and he recalled him asking what happened and what Gordon needed, completely uncaring that his jeans were getting dirty in the fertilized soil.  And the best thing about Scott was that he was the type of older brother that didn’t laugh or ignore him when Gordon said “they want out” through blubbering tears. He just helped Gordon release their fireflies back into the night, and instead they spent their evening counting their happy flickering until the numbers lulled Gordon to sleep.

The memory faded; the fireflies behind his eyes converged to a fragment on the other side of his lids, and a piercing white struck his brain with each blink as he awoke.

His feet were cold. The Hood had stolen his boots. Of freaking course. His next realization was that the rest of him was not as cold as his feet. In fact, that light coming in through the window was making his face and neck feel quite flushed.

It was the light that told him he was somewhere new. Previously the Hood had kept him locked in the darkness in his cell.

He groaned, shifting to sit up and look around his new abode, which was compact and with no angles to define the walls. But it was all glass, and so the window he thought was present was actually the room itself. And the floor he realized, feeling the material against the pads of his feet as he stood, was also glass.

His investigation was short lived, and Gordon hissed as the attempt to put weight on his left foot shot a laser of pain up through his ankle.

God, the Hood must have really thrown him in here, he thought.

He looked up.

No, not thrown. Dropped.

The ceiling of the room was not a ceiling at all, but the top of a bottle where the glass curved inward and then continued upward.

It was not quite what he imagined…. being the test subject of a madman. Maybe a tube or a cage or the cell where he was before would make sense, but a human-sized glass bottle?  He felt like one of the fireflies he was just dreaming of, and of course, the Hood had to steal that memory too, in addition to his baldric, his boots, and his brother’s face.

As Gordon squinted to peer past the glass, the light that had been penetrating his new home suddenly darkened with a singular brown eye filling the expanse of the vessel, disorienting the shape so that the pupil was huge and the iris round, and the rest was…well, still huge just not as much so.

Fire raced through his ankle as he backed up two steps, stumbling into the back of the bottle.

“Gordon?” The eye said in a deep rumble.

The hell? He knew that voice.

“Fuse?”

“Shit, man, you’re tiny.”

His instinct was to look at his hands, but of course, they were the same from his perspective, though perhaps a bit grimier than they were before he was captured, tossed in a cell, and then forced to pick his way out of his shackles for no reason other than the Hood’s demented sense of pleasure.

The eye was then replaced with Fuse’s hand as he picked up the bottle to clasp it by the neck and pull it off of what was clearly a high shelf, with Gordon still inside.

Everything was not okay.

He was not okay.

It was never a human-sized bottle, and as his world shifted with Fuse raising the glass, Gordon realized he was lucky if he was half a foot tall.

END PART 1

End note:  In effort to think outside the box for in a box my brain went straight to pocket!Gordon, so I went angsty Arrietty/the Borrowers vibes. There’s a more literal box planned later, I promise, and more Scott as requested. But for now, hope this helps do the job. Also don’t skip over the first part, POCKET!GORDON. 😊

Part 2

[jewish-space-laser]

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

or

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

 See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you. 

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior. 

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read. 

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite. 

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it. 

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head. 

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking. 

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips. 

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin. 

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you. 

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little. 

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more. 

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do. 

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth. 

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. 

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends. 

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose. 

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this. 

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold. 

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors. 

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered. 

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt. 

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver. 

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing. 

 “You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed. 

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup. 

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed. 

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed. 

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly. 

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.  

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind. 

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes. 

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity. 

He was sure you must pity him. 

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns. 

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough. 

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now. 

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet. 

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets. 

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk. 

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn. 

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin. 

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this. 

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped. 

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind. 

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be. 

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already. 

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really. 

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end. 

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason. 

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything. 

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him. 

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street. 

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time. 

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.  

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

[imagine-always-and-forever]

Flutterings & Tequila - Part 13

A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: you’ve decided to go clubbing with your best friend the last summer before college starts to take your mind off of the Mikaelsons who have invaded your life this summer. Specifically, you’re trying to distract yourself from Niklaus Mikaelson and the flutterings he has caused you. Tequila is your friend tonight.

Part Summary: Clue hunting.

Warnings: typical stuff you’d see in the show

Word count: 3,115

Tags:  elle88531,  violentmommabear42, pisicakawritesshitatfour, a-quarter-horse-called-biscuit, hoeofnjadaka, thegingerthatwaited, despressolattes, aomi-nabi, pie46733, (let me know if you want to be tagged or I missed you out on the tag list!)

Authors note: so I’ve been saying I’d get back to this for ages. I know. But truthfully I hit such a brick wall that writer’s block as a concept had to add another tier to it’s existence just for me. Thankfully, for no clear reason whatsoever, it poofed away as some strong desire to write this again came to me after work. So... tada? Also I am sorry but so so many of you asked to be tagged (I’m very flattered!!!) that I think I’m missing a bunch of people. If I missed you send me a message and I’ll add you to the list. Enjoy 😊

Part 1  |   Part 2  | Part 3  | Part 4  | Part 5  |  Part 6  | Part 7  | Part 8  | Part 9  | Part 10  | Part 11 | Part 12

You’re trembling slightly as you walk down your stairs, breath coming out shakily as you try to calm yourself down. You had 24 hours to find out at least something about what the Mikaelsons were doing here. 24 hours and no clue where to start.

  Through the back window you could see Klaus and Elijah making their way out of the guest house. Their expressions were drawn and Klaus had a small black bag clutched in his hand. Your eyes darted to the door to the house. Were you that stupid?

The fact that your feet were already moving you forward gave you a clear yes, but at least you could report back to Josie that you did, despite her belief, have some sort of self-preservation. It was just a really fucked up kind.

  The door to the guest house opened with ease. Of course the Mikaelsons didn’t think to lock it. What was the point? Who would try to get in to their home without their permission and who would live to tell the tale?

  Well, hopefully you.

The painting supplies were still right where you left them. Your eyes swept across the room in front of you, cataloging what you saw. You’d helped Josie redecorate last summer, but it looked like the Mikaelsons took it upon themselves to do some of their own renovations. It was a little bit embarrassing how little of the place you’d payed attention to when you were here with Klaus.

 They’d rearranged half the furniture for gods sake and you hadn’t noticed at all. With a frown on your face, you examined the new layout of the room. You wondered what prompted the rearrangement. The couches being moved about made sense to give Klaus extra space for his easels. But what was the purpose of switching the office area with the dining room?

  The office, which you were truthfully rather proud of last summer, looked like Elijah’s doing. Two bookcases now sandwiched in the desk against what was supposed to be the accent wall of the room. Not a single bit of the pop of color on the wall was visible now. The imposing set up didn’t even look touched. You could feel your eyebrows tense as they tried to furrow further with your deepened confusion. Dust collected across the books on their shelves. You swiped a finger through it. Coated.

It surprised you that Elijah wasn’t as much of a neat freak about his environment as he was abou his appearance. Though, you suspected if he was he’d have spent most of his millennia+ on earth cleaning up after his siblings. You snorted to yourself. Didn’t he already do that?

A blank space on one of the shelves drew your eye. Amongst a sea of books and paperweights, a patch of dustless real estate on an otherwise packed bookcase stared back at you. If those Nancy Drew books you read as a child had taught you anything, that prominent rectangle of empty space meant that something had been moved. And recently.

That, you smiled to yourself, was a lead.

A scan of the desk and the rest of the shelves confirmed that whatever it was hadn’t simply been reorganized. You pulled open the drawers of the heavy oak desk. Pens, paperclips, highlighters, sticky notes, stapler, hole punch, scissors, and more pens. No. Notebooks, empty folders, the coffee maker’s instructional guide. No. Empty space with a single pen cap rolling around. No.

A dead end.

You got down on your knees. The floor was clean. Under the couches, too. The ottoman with the lift up storage option, empty. The side tables small draw with it’s tendency to stick (a single missing screw from Ikea can really screw your building abilities), empty. You moved to the TV console, frustration building.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

You checked the shelves. You were too short to reach the top ones but the Mikaelsons weren’t. You grabbed a chair and stepped up. It was in vain. Careful to put it back as you’d found it, you moved the chair in defeat. You checked the kitchen. Drawers and cupboard were empty. The fruit salad in the fridge seemed to judge you and you sighed. You didn’t expect it to be in the fridge but it was almost eight at night and you’d torn the downstairs of this house a part.

 The Mikaelsons could be back any minute and you’d found nothing. What if there was nothing? Had you wasted hours of your short time frame on trying to find something that didn’t exist?

It dawned on you that Klaus’s little black bag just might have –

A groan escaped your lips. What a colossal waste of time. Time that to you did not have to waste. You closed the fridge, head coming down to lean on the cool stainless steel door in defeat. Maybe there was a clue you could find back in the main house. Josie’s room might have something that you could give Jess.

With a deep breath, you straightened up. No point in giving up until Jess’s voice was ordering you to kill yourself. Josie would expect nothing less from you, and in truth, so do you.

As you walked through the house to the door you passed by one of the many shelves you checked and just like in one of those long rumored witch’s intuition stories, something pulled your eye to it once again. Something pulled your eye directly to an unassuming wooden framed photo that you didn’t register as new. So, something you’d had to have seen a million times by now, surely. But why then did it feel so very important to look at it?

You walked over, cautious of this intense urge in your blood. It was often hard to tell with magical urges if something was for good intent or bad.

  The photo was in black and white. A little girl sat on a dock, one tooth missing right in the front. A man in an ornate three piece suit that had to predate the Georgian era stood by her, looking out of place but pleased with himself. Beside him was a boy that looked around your age. He was scowling in the photo. In his had he held something tightly, as if he would die if it were ever lost to him. Your eyes scanned the photo back and forth, that feeling still present. What was it? What were you supposed to see?

  The background of the photo was just water. A lake most likely. There were no lakes here. Where were they? Who were they? You leaned in to get a closer look. The photo quality was bad and it wasn’t until you looked hard that you realized it wasn’t a photo at all. A painting. A small, incredibly detailed painting.

  Klaus?

But no. How? You knew this painting wasn’t unfamiliar to you. You also knew that some how you had never noticed it. How could you go so long seeing something so often, convinced it was just a photo of something unimportant?

Almost like magic. Why would anybody spell this little painting with an unnotable spell? More specifically, why did Josie (because it had to be her) cast this spell when you were the only other person than her to see it? You didn’t have guests usually. It was why you had been so surprised when she had announced the renovation of the guest house last summer.

  The moment the skin on your fingers touched the painting’s surface, a vision clear as an actual photo slammed into your mind’s eye. Blinded by the image, nothing existed but it and you were enraptured what you saw.

  It was the exact image that had been painted, but the details were sharp. You could see the threads of the man’s suit. The pours of the little girl. The splintered wood of the old dock. Everything of the moment preserved perfectly in a snapshot.

  There was no sound. You felt nothing from the scene. This was not a vision of the past that let you experience the moment with those in it. You could see the wind sweeping through the girl’s locks but you couldn’t feel a thing. This was the scene of the painter through the painter’s very eyes.

But who’s eyes? And who were these people?

You looked focused on their faces. The little girl’s slightly downturned nose and her rounded jaw clicked in your mind as your eyes rested on her’s. Josie. A young Josie. This made sense. This was a memory Josie had that she wanted to keep private. But why? And why keep the painting if she wanted it secret? The man beside her was probably her father, right? 

As your eyes shifted to his features and they sharpened into view for you, Josie’s body blurred away. No, you realized. That was not Josie’s father. Though you had never met the man or seen his photo before, you knew this was not him. Because this was Elijah Mikaelson.

  At least it made sense now how they knew Josie. Old friends indeed. But what on earth was Elijah doing standing on a dock on some lake with a Josie when she was a child and a boy? As your eyes darted to the boy, the change of the image didn’t surprise you. Josie and Elijah blurred and he came into focus.

  Despite not having known him for as long or studying his face too much, it was clear by his eyes that you were staring at a teenage Jess.

You gasped and were ripped from the image.

  Around you, the guest house came back into view. In your hands, clutched tightly, was the photo. Your heart rate was up and you didn’t know when you had started to breath so quickly or so hard. You blinked your dry eyes. Josie, Jess, and Elijah?

  The sound of wheels pulling up on the gravel drive had your head shooting up. They were back. You didn’t have time to get to the house and though beautiful, Josie’s flower filled garden didn’t actually give you much cover to hide. Without a second thought, you dashed up the stairs.

  The bathroom door was open and from downstairs, it was easy to see. Too obvious someone was here. The bedroom beside it was locked and you didn’t have time to find the spare key somewhere on top of the door. The closet next to it was too small with the vacuum in it. It wouldn’t do. You spun around, unsure how close the Mikaelsons were and if they were listening. 

The other bedrooms had their doors open. Shit. Too suspicious. One door, directly across from the stairs remained. Could you even make it before they opened the door?

You didn’t have a choice. The handle to the room jiggled and the door clicked open. You slipped inside and went to close it as gently as possible when the front door opened. You froze. The door was still a jar. They’d notice if for sure.

“Well that was fun,” Kol sighed and you heard him flop onto the couch.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be fun,” Rebekah huffed and her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way through the house.

  “Drink?” Elijah asked nobody in particular.

“I’m going to bed,” Rebekah said with a short tone and you almost squeaked in fear as you realized she was starting up the stairs.

  “Don’t be so dramatic, sister!” Kol called after her.

  “You’re a reckless idiot without a scrap of self-control,” she seethed back.

“It’s not like he actually liked you,” Kol scoffed.

Something expensive sounding shattered followed by Kol’s laugh.

  “May I remind you that this is not our home?” Elijah’s calm voice of reason came.

  You waited with baited breath for something to happen next. If Kol could get one more quip in to make Rebekah break something else you could use the distraction to close the door properly.  

“What happened?” Klaus said, evidently just entering the house.

  “I’m going to bed,” Rebekah stated and you closed your eyes as a curse tried to come out of your lips.

  “Sister,” Klaus stopped her and his voice was much closer now. He was on the stairs with her, you guessed. “You cannot get angry every time one of your many suitors gets eaten by our brother. You know how he is,” he explained in a hushed voice with a taunt.

Something smashed against the wall again.

“KOL,” Elijah reprimanded.

  A thud sounded against the wall and you reached for the door, ready to close it if another opportunity struck.

  “Enough property damage,” Klaus told his brother.

  “It was her fault anyway. You know it,” Kol argued.

“I was getting him to trust me,” Rebekah’s voice was further away. She must have joined her brothers down stairs again.

“And that involved opening your legs for him, did it?”

You knew it was coming so as Rebekah jumped to attack her brother, you ceased the moment to shut the door. The soft click would be lost to them as they tried to pull their sister and brother apart.

  The room you were in hadn’t been touched since the renovation. You walked over to the window to see if there was any feasible way down.

  “Deal with it,” Klaus’s voice came from just outside the door. 

You whipped around, eyes wide, as you realized they solved the little dispute far faster than you thought they would. You dropped to the ground as you heard Elijah reply to his brother. The door clicked open as you lifted the duvet and scooted yourself as quietly as possible under the bed.

  Luckily, Klaus’s instructions invoked a lot of opinions from his siblings. He stood in the doorway and barked out orders at them. Something else was thrown. As you spelled your breath silent, you spared a thought for all the things you’d have to replace by the time the Mikaelsons moved out.

Klaus shut the door with a harsh thud and switched on the light by the bed. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sheer bad luck you had that this of all the rooms was his.

  Klaus moved around the room, silent except for his steady breathing. Something was placed delicately on a surface in his room. Then, he moved to the window and you heard it slide open. He breathed deeply. The rustling sound of fabric peaked your interest. Something landed on the bed. The unmistakable sound of a zip had a flush come to your face. Oh no.

  Another thing was thrown on the bed. You imagined Klaus’s shirt and jeans piled on his sheets. This was bad. He was going to bed. You were going to be stuck down here for the night.

Klaus opened his door. Huh? And then he left. Wait what?

Cautiously, you lifted the duvet and peeked out. Nothing. You scooted to the other side of the double bed, wincing as the underneath spring of the bed caught your hair and it pulled. The other side confirmed that he had definitely left and shut the door behind him.

  Apparently the plus side of hiding under the bed of a paranoid hybrid with even his siblings at times out to get him was that he kept his room strictly closed off to everyone else.

  You scooted out from under the bed. The window, now open, was your best bet. Who was to say if the path to the door was empty or if you could open the front door without alerting anyone. A well timed cushioning spell would make the rose bush you’d land on hurt a little less. The thorns would still be a bitch though.

  A sudden realization hit you that you forgot the painting at some point in your scooting. You rushed back to the bed and had to scoot back under a bit to reach it. As your hand touched it, you were once again rushed into the snapshot of the scene.

This time you knew you weren’t the painter. You looked down to your right at the top of Josie’s head. To your left was Jess. This was Elijah’s view. Which meant, if you looked straight ahead you’d most likely see –

It wasn’t Klaus.

  You frowned. You were sure it would be Klaus. But you didn’t recognize the man painting on the tiny canvas in front of him with a concentrated look on his face. He had brown thinning hair and a sullen face with cupid bow lips and a nose people would pay good money for. He was an odd man that was handsome and not. You wondered who he was and tried to get the image to focus in further to find some distinguishing feature of some sort.

You were once again ripped back into reality as you registered the sound of footsteps outside the door. The window would have to wait and you dived back down and rolled under the bed, hitting you head as you did so. You bit your lip in pain as the door opened.

Klaus was back.

  You couldn’t say if he was gone long or not as you had no idea how much time you had been lost to that vision. It didn’t seem long, but then again they never did.

  Klaus sighed. The distinct sound of a towel rubbing against hair was the only sound in the room for a while as you put together that he just came from a shower. So, he was probably naked. You bit your lip for a different reason. You listened as Klaus toweled himself dry. He pulled a drawer open and assumingly put on some kind of clothing. You hopped it was at least a pair of underwear.

The bed dipped as Klaus sat. The lamp was clicked off. Shuffling from above. The bed dipped in different places as Klaus got comfortable. As luck was not your fan, he settled directly above you. You didn’t dare scoot one way or another. He’d surely hear it.

So you were spending the night here then. Great.

Klaus fidgeted above you again, having the gal to not find a comfortable position for the night. You stared at the springs and mattress centimeters from your face in annoyance. To be fair, this could have been the comfiest floor in the world and you still wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Not with Klaus above you and the rest of the Mikaelsons scattered about the house. No hope of escape until morning.

  A sharp inhale cut through your self pity. Another one. Was he…?

[utterlyinevitable]

The Conference (Part 9)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.7k Rating: T+ Warning: Some cursing Summary: It’s the evening after the keynote and they go out for a civil dinner date.

A/N: shout out to ruby @starrystarrytrouble for reminding me people actually like reading this mess 💕

________________________________________

After we finished up the panel I stuck around the conference hall to network whilst Ethan had ditched the crowd at the first opportunity he got, heading back to our hotel room and venturing away from the pecking vultures. To be honest, I didn’t really blame him. Everyone wanted a piece of the poor, well-endowed man. 

A couple hours later, I shuffled back into our apartment. My aching feet somehow prevailed without causing me to collapse on the odd geometric carpet floor, or ditching my heels along the way and walking barefoot like some uncultured frosh stumbling home at 3AM. Once through the heavy metal plated door, I headed straight to my room, not throwing a single pleasantry towards Ethan in the seating area. From what I could tell he was typing furiously on his laptop after nursing a scotch - the empty crystal tumbler on the table was a dead giveaway. 

The anxiety and delirium inducing stress of the day lifted the second my kinda-sweaty body collapsed onto the private armchair in my room, clutching its aqua-colored arms and sinking into the velvet cushion. Staring out at the familiar skyline my mind started to replay the happenings of the day; every little thing that happened - from the confidence I felt during our speech, to the way that asshole called me out, and how Ethan stood up for me every step of the way. How proud he was even if he relayed the sentiment in such small words. 

We survived today. We haven’t strangled each other nor suffered any little deaths. All that’s left for this trip is the tour we have tomorrow morning, and then we’ll be on our way back to Edenbrook. Back to the way things were… 

Somehow my tired and self destructive brain decided it wanted to revel in the memories of the last few days. Thinking about all the non-work things that happened this trip. Thinking of all the words shared, and the blast from the past. And the revelation that little adventure birthed. 

Fuck me...

Things are weird. Like, so weird. I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m even thinking this… but I miss him. Today showed me how great we are together! Professionally and as friends. We’re the dynamic duo: Ramsey and his Rookie. His. I - 

I need to stop thinking that. 

I belong to myself. I do what I want when I want and with whom I want. 

And so does he. And that’s why I walked away. I’m- 

I’m still getting over him. 

While simultaneously trying to get under him… 

Thoughts wandered back to Ryan and how long it took me to get over the detrimental ‘what if’s of him. If I held on tighter and longer and didn’t get in the way of myself back then - if one thing was different - everything could be different. 

A small, revelatory gasp escaped me. 

I didn’t want things to be different. 

After eight fucking years I finally understood. 

If I didn’t love and lose Ryan I never would have found my way to Boston. To Ethan. And here - knowing what I do and having all the experiences of the last few months - I couldn’t continue a life without knowing Ethan Ramsey. 

I’m going to do whatever I can to repair our friendship. 

I changed my clothes into something not requiring heels - black skinny jeans, a blouse and my trusty Chelsea boots - and my hair pulled back into a bun. Simple, sleek, and completely me. No pomp and circumstance, or hiding behind anything. Just me, making an effort.  

With all the determination I could muster I sauntered into the living room where I assumed Ethan would still be. 

I was right; he hadn’t changed positions at all. Sitting there on the couch, his feet up on the gaudy footstool with his laptop perched on his lap, tortoise-patterned glasses framing his face, and furiously typing on the keyboard. 

“So...” I trailed awkwardly to break the tension surrounding him, leaning against the wall with my hands stuffed in my armpits. “What do you want to do for dinner?” 

“Oh,” He planted his feet on the floor and turned to face me fully, moving his laptop off of him and folding his arms in his lap. “Uh, well-”

Quickly I added, “If you’d rather eat alone it’s fine by me. I was thinking of grabbing pizza at John’s.” 

Ethan nodded in response, saying, “Sounds good.”

“Cool,” I nodded back. “You ready or…?”

“Let me grab my things,” he stood, collected his things and headed to his room.

Less than two minutes later we headed out of the apartment together, walking side by side. Though this time wasn’t like earlier. There wasn’t the blind determination and need to impress like this morning. Right now we were two people who used to know one another going out to dinner in a spectacular converted synagogue.  

***

For anyone who doesn’t know John’s, it’s a local family-style pizza joint. There’s three restaurants around the city and the Times Square location is by far the best. Every time I have a hot minute to spare I try to go - the stained glass and craftsmanship of the building is everything! But you don’t want to hear about that… and neither did Ethan when I tried to fill the silence during our walk with all the reasons to love this place. For some reason he preferred to barge and weave in silence. 

Whatever. 

Lucky enough he was more chatty once we were seated. 

Our table was in the mezzanine with not much of a view besides the stone staircase in the corner and the large dome towering above. The dim lighting complimented the deep wooden table and beige upholstered seating. 

We ordered. And without the menu to keep our attention, I tried my hand at conversation once more.  

“Be honest, how did we do?”

Looking me in the eyes, ones that mirrored mine, showed such confidence and pride as he said his next words;

“You handled it well, Becca.” There was a tug at the corners of his mouth that pulled at my own. I was about to get a rare Ramsey smile - one I’ve been devoid of for far too long. 

“Dare I even say, like a natural.” 

I got to revel in the small compliment for a few moments as the server brought over our food - garlic knots, small veggie pizza, and a chef’s side salad. 

“I didn’t stutter too much or come off too young?” I couldn’t help but ask when it was just us two again. His opinion matters more than anyone else’s when it comes to my career. 

“You did.” 

“But you -” 

He cut me off, a slight shake of his big head, “You are young and this was your first keynote.” he clarified. And once more he said pridefully, “You did well.” 

After what felt like ages we shared a private smile. How he was able to bring me back into myself with a few words and stop fussing over imposter syndrome is a wonder.  

“Now eat some pizza and be happy.” 

My smile grew to a goofy one by the way he was looking at me, bemused. I refrained from sticking my tongue out and dug into a little slice of heaven. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

We dug in. Letting the flavors dance over my taste buds and make me only as happy as a New York slice could make me. No amount of fantastic sex could compare to pizza. Everything kind of disappeared - time stopped while the first bites settled in my tummy. Even Ethan looked to be enjoying it even though it’s not fancy smancy and artery clogging. 

Eventually I broke our companioned silence;

“How was lunch with Chief Fredericks?” I asked as I reached for a scrumptious ball of garlicy dough. 

The response left his lips so swiftly he didn’t even bother to look up from his plate; 

“Informative.”

I scoffed at the non-answer answer. 

My little grumble pulled him out of his bubble and he looked over at me - those damn baby blues challenging my thoughtfully indecent outburst. I just gave him a look right back. 

Ethan rolled his eyes and reached for another slice. Cutting it up with a fork and knife like an absolute weirdo.  

“He heard about the state budget cuts. Wanted to know what I think and if I’d be open to consult every so often.” 

“And?” I probed. 

“And what? You know how I feel about the future of Edenbrook.” 

“Yes. But if it goes under, what do you think you’ll do? I mean, everyone’s going to be throwing themselves at you.” 

I shoved some greenery in my gob to keep from adding the jarring truth. 

Everyone throws themselves at you. 

But who he gives his attention to is another story.  

Ethan shrugged ever so nonchalantly, “I haven’t thought about it.” 

The cavalier way he was speaking of his life after Edenbrook had thrown me off. Ethan was never this laid-back. It just wasn’t in his nature. There’s always something for this man to stress over. And Edenbrook’s closing should be his anxiety numero uno. 

But here he was, ever so calm. 

Hmm... 

“Are you in denial?” I said through a bite, fully anticipating another non-answer.  

“Maybe.” 

The way he said it took me aback. It was inherently honest and soft. All of his jagged features were rounded and there was a dulled little twinkle in his eye. 

Yeah, something’s going on here he’s not telling me.  

“Ethan -” 

And of course he deflects by turning the conversation on me; “What are you going to do?” 

Keeping from rolling my eyes at his obvious deflection from roaming into his feelings deeper, I replied, “Transfer my residency.” 

“Where?” 

“I…” - dammit - “don’t know.”

I haven’t really dwelled on what happens when the hospital closes. Obviously I need to finish residency if I want to be an actual practicing doctor. But the matching process can go screw itself. I don’t never ever want to do that again - all I cared about was matching with the best. And I did. So who’s the second best now? 

Is it wherever he goes?  

There’s just so much to think about, and I’d really rather not. Not until the last few nails are lined up against the coffin. 

“See,” he said with a hint of a lopsided grin, “Neither of us are ready to leave Edenbrook behind.” 

He was right. Of course he’s right. You didn’t need to be a diagnostician or even a doctor to see that we’re holding out hope of a buyout. 

I’ve just gotten to Edenbrook - only a few months into my dream career with my dream boss - and now, what? It’s all over before it even really began? No. I can’t accept that. 

There was a beat of silence as we both reached for the salad tongs, our hands brushing on accident. Both our eyes shot to bear witness to the contact, pulling us out of whatever ran wild through our thoughts and into this new, secluded moment. Everything around us dulled in the distance; the sounds swirling in the air muted and like a faint breeze. The warm lighting dimmed further, yet there was a spotlight on the salad bowl. The greens and reds and purples of the ruffage illuminated like it was the only thing that mattered. Like right now the earth was spinning just for this moment of closeness. 

Surprisingly, neither of us made a motion to move. His large hand overlapping my dainty fingers, the metal underneath the pads of my fingers warming up instantly. Electricity still coursed through me like the very first time. Except now it carried the memories of all the other times and places he set me aflame. 

I had to be the one to pull back. 

Almost, like it needed time to comprehend why the moment was intentionally ruined, the atmosphere around us began to revert back slightly. I could hear the idle chatter of those around us now. I could see the full picture of Ethan sitting across from me and all the individuals pattering around behind him. What couldn’t pretend to go back and hung off kilter was the beating in my chest - I could feel the electricity coursing through my veins and putting my heart through the ringer. 

Ethan made up for it by serving me. 

Does he know he still has such an effect on me?  

Quick! I needed to divert my thoughts off of the creeping flush and want from taking hold. So I went back to talking about work, our safe topic. 

“If you could work anywhere else in the world where would it be?” I asked.  

Ethan took a moment to think as he served himself some salad. He looked like he was actually thinking of an answer, maybe, for the first time he’s digested the hospital’s fate. 

“I think the next logical step would be the Mayo Clinic. They’re the best diagnostics in the world.” His eyes diverted back down to his plate and, after a beat, he added, “I also wouldn’t mind spending more time on missions with The WHO.”

My eyes searched his as they looked anywhere but where I was seated across from him, trying to find any sort of fault in his features. Something, anything, that I could hold onto. Nothing. Just stupid sincerity. The first fucking time in weeks he actually lets us talk about his time in the Amazon I can’t be mad at him.  

“You really enjoyed your time there, huh?” 

“It…” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. 

We’ve wandered into emotional territory and we both needed to tread carefully. I need to remember that he was never mine, as much as I felt like his from our first kiss. Need to recall that back then everything was drawn out in plain sight. Our end was always just that - an end. I Need to forgive. And try to remember that at one point he did try to fight for me, in his round-a-bout noncommittal way, and I was the one to end things officially. 

We both need to forgive. Especially if these are the last few months we have working together. 

“Was important work and I got to make a difference in the lives of thousands of indigenous people.” Ethan took another small pause for breath. When he continued, his deep baritone voice was lower, “Even if my intentions for going were skewed, it was an opportunity of a lifetime.” 

The simplest thing to do would be to nod, or eat - distract myself - or even change the subject. To try not to dwell on the implications of the statement. But I couldn’t. My body tensed and the warmth from moments before fled completely. 

We were silent. The brutal truth of why he left stinging just as much as it did the day I found out. 

Minutes, many many minutes passed with me finding solace in sweet savory carbs and Ethan pushing things around on his plate. 

Eager to change the subject there was one other topic of the day I was endlessly curious to know more about; 

“So, what’s the deal with Dr. Schwab?” 

“Don’t.” He dismissed, his authoritative voice seeping through just a tad. Though I’d like to think he’s smart enough not to use it with me outside of Edenbrook.  

“If you don’t tell me I’ll be forced to fabricate my own. I’m feeling a one-night stand gone wrong.” 

He looked back down at his food. 

“Oh my god, I’m right.” The smile that erupted literally took over my entire face. I could not hide it even if I tried.  

“Rebecca,” he tried to scold. 

“Now you have to tell me.” 

Just like earlier he turned the conversation back on me; “What’s with the frat boy?” 

“Ryan was never in a fraternity,” I responded, not hiding the grin that formed by putting Ethan in his place. “He’s a jock though.” 

He expelled a dry laugh, “I don’t think that’s any better.” He took a bite of his salad. Something radiated off of Ethan I couldn’t quite place. 

“We were close in high school,” I added for reasons I’m not quite sure why. Like that explained who Ryan was and why he came back into my life now, of all times.  

Ethan made a condescending, “mhm”. 

I rolled my eyes; “We had a thing for a while, okay.” I conceded. “We grew apart senior year, and then I went off to college. Last night was the first time we’ve spoken in, like, eight years.” 

Ethan made absolutely no reactions to the statement. Not even a stupid wiggle of his dumb perfect eyebrow. 

Is he even paying attention? 

“Now tell me about Schwab - sorry, Hilary,” I coaxed.  

Ethan’s hand flew to the bridge of his nose and up to carefully rub his eyes. 

This has gotta be good. 

I waited patiently and eagerly for this story. She couldn’t have been Ethan’s type and yet… What happened!? 

Eyes still shut tight, he grumbled, “What’s there to tell?” 

“Obviously something happened,” I couldn’t help but mock, “You slept together!” 

“Yes, and it’s something I do not like to dwell on.” 

“Sorry, buddy, but it looks like she does.” 

He groaned. Then shifted in his chair. Ethan took a long drag of his drink. And just when I figured he was going to wait this out until one of us changed the subject, he spoke; 

“A moment of weakness a few years back. And she was…” 

Ah! It’s actually happening! Ethan’s telling a salacious story! 

Shifting in my seat and placing my head in my hands to give him my full attention; My brows and smile grew as I finished the sentence for him, “Eager?” 

He scowled. 

“Jesus Christ, Ethan, just tell me what happened!” 

“I will not go into details.” 

“Fine.” I made a motion with my hand for him to continue without the juicy details. 

“Harper and I had just ended things for good not long before…” 

We ended up going back and forth for a while - Ethan not wanting to give anything up and me pulling as much as I could out of him. Long story short, Ethan was in a weird mental state after breaking up with Harper for the hundredth and final time in their six year relationship. He took up a conference opportunity to get away for two nights. Knowing how much he loves people, Ethan spent most of his time drowning his senses at the hotel bar. And low and behold, enter Hillary. 

From the sounds of it she was agreeable and very very forward. And Ethan was so lost in liquor that her voice didn’t irritate him as much as it did the next morning, and every single time they were in close proximity thereafter. Hillary had been going through a separation with her husband and needed a distraction just as bad. Really, who could blame her? Toting Ethan around would be the best revenge. 

The first night of his stay was fine - apparently the sex was satisfactory and she didn’t do anything remarkably memorable. Or so he says. I still think she looks like a squawker. He didn’t linger around long after before retreating to his hotel room. Then the next afternoon he was bored and weak and agreed to lunch. And lunch turned into drinks which turned into round two. In his room. And she didn’t leave. She wasn’t leaving. So Ethan bought an earlier plane ticket, and shook her awake before checking out. 

And every conference since she seems to want to entertain a rematch. 

“Oh my god, you’re horrible!” I exclaimed ever delightfully. This was hilarious! 

“I shouldn’t really be surprised. You flew to another continent after we slept together.” Shaking my head, a stupid little smirk on my lips I asked, “Have you ever had a one night stand before?” 

“Wha - of course I have!” 

“One’s that didn’t end up with you getting on a plane?” 

He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “If you must know, I’ve had my fair share in undergrad.” 

Now it was my turn to send a condescending “mhm” his way. 

We spoke longer and polished off our plates - not a single crumb remained. This was nice. Really nice getting to be close to him again and just being friends. Telling stories and exchanging playful jabs here and there. It’s how I fell for the idiot in the first place. 

Baby steps.     

-

Two hours after we arrived the server came over with the bill. 

She was friendly and lovely the whole meal. The best part about her style of service is that she let us just exist and didn’t check up all that often. When she did I could tell she overheard someone of the crap Ethan and I were spewing. She had one of those knowing smiles, like she was in on our jokes the entire time. 

“Can I just say, you guys are adorable,” she relayed with the brightest of smiles after setting the padfolio on the table, her hands clapping together excitedly. She looked like a child who had just met Santa Claus for the first time. 

L O L she thinks we’re together.  

At that I actually laughed out loud before informing, “We’re colleagues. In town for a conference.” 

The horror on the girl's face said it all. 

“Oh! My mistake, sorry. I can split the bill for you.” She reached for the pad where it sat in front of Ethan. 

He grabbed the black leather at the same time I spoke;  

"Nope, dinner’s on him.” I cupped a hand over my mouth and pointed a not-at-all discreet thumb towards him, “He'll get reimbursed," I laughed more to myself than anything. 

She smiles, a little relieved by my warmth, then turns to look at Ethan - silently asking permission or if it’s okay that he pays. Generally looking for some sort of direction from the old man.    

He shoots the server a look. Then forks over his credit card. 

As she saunters off, I smile at him sweetly, “Thank you.” 

Of course he rolls his eyes. But that rise in the corners of his mouth says so much more. 

________________________________________

A/N: sorry it’s shit. thank you for sticking with this series 💕 we’ve just got one chapter left! 

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