#honest to god rest in peace DOES just sound like another way to say 'sleep well' or 'sweet dreams' right???

[standbowed]

THE SILLIES!!! // @hecatombi loosely based on this:

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || pretty little thing

note: am I simping for volume 12 cover sukuna once more? ...yes, and am not afraid to admit that. that man can glare at me and i will apologise for gracing him with my unworthy self lmao. but i do enjoy this entire idea of super mean and evil sukuna and his cutesy lover that can do whatever she wants to him and he wouldn’t stop her - not like he wanted to anyway lmao 

pronouns: she/her

warning: mentions of murder and acts of murder as well, and if you squint a little there is mentions of minors, but it doesn’t play a big role in the story

The small group of sorcerers stood before the towering man, trying not to show the fear on their faces as they tried to look at the glowing red eyes head on. Sukuna was seated on his throne, two of his four arms resting on his while another was propping up his cheek; the other tapping his fingers on the plush fabric of his throne. He hated having his time wasted on useless things, and the socerers before him were starting to wear their welcome too thin.

Sighing tiredly, he tilted his head back, a sign that had the sorcerers tensing up. They knew that body language all too well - if they do not tell him what was the purpose of them coming all the way to him temple, and even daring to walk up to his alter will lead him to murdering them all in cold blood. 

He doesn’t care how important they are in the town, or in jujutsu world either - to him, he is the most important. And everyone else is beneath him.

Well, everyone but one person, that is.

As if the Gods took pity on them, the soft sound of delicate footprints came from somewhere beside the group, causing the group to stop their whispers between one another at the sound of soft footsteps. Within seconds a beautiful woman walked out from the shadows and into the main room of the temple, her kimono trailing behind her delicately. The beautiful crafted garment hung on her frame perfectly; not too tight where it left little to the imagination, yet not too loose to hide her beautiful figure underneath it either. It was clearly crafted by a master craftsman, and the fabrics it was made of show how expensive it must have been.

A hana kanzashi was delicately placed on her perfectly styled hair, a streams of flowers hang off the end of the pin, giving the woman a more mysterious look as the sunlight casted a shadow over half of her face. She gave the sorcerers no more than an uninterested glance, trying not to roll her eyes at the sight of the group of mostly men - the same group of elders in her town that were so willing to sacrifice young girls to the man before them in exchange for peace.

She would know - she was one of those sacrifices, after all. However, the difference between her and the others was that instead of being killed after their purpose was done, Sukuna was now wrapped around her finger tightly. She can’t be too proud of it either; she was equally as obsessed with him as he was with her, so the better word to describe it might be mutual pining.

Sukuna will never admit that though, claiming she is just a foolish woman he likes keeping around for food and a warm body. But if she tries to get up and leave, or if he knows people are even thinking about bringing her harm? The world would suffer through Hell like they’ve never seen before.

Speaking of the man - Sukuna’s ruby red eyes watched as the woman made her way towards him, carefully climbing the steps of his alter like it was her own home; a soft pout resting on her lips as she walks closer to him. He didn’t get the usual burst of annoyance when anyone dared to look at him in eyes, or the anger he’d feel of having someone even daring to take one step towards the direction of his throne. Yet all he felt was amusement as he shifted in his seat ever so slightly; watching how the woman just made her way towards him and sat down in his lap like it was her throne.

Which it was after all, and Sukuna will let her indulge herself in such a luxury. He loves to spoil her, letting her do as she pleases

“Yes, my beautiful flower?” He hums softly as the hand that was once tapping his fingers along his seat reached up, stroking the apple of her cheek delicately as he raised an eyebrow at her. At that moment he didn’t care who was in the room - all that mattered was her. And he has a gut feeling he knows why she is currently sporting that cute pout of hers, her arms crossed over her chest adorably. “You’re taking too long. I got cold.” 

Immediately a low chuckle rumble from somewhere in his chest as his other arm wrapped around her protectively, his tattoos a contrast against the unmasked skin of her bare thigh that was revealed by his simple action of pulling her closer. “We can’t have that now, can we?” He cooed ever so softly, something so foreign and so unheard of coming from a cold hearted killer that it scared the already terrified sorcerers even more. A few of them were even shaking at the sight of the woman, who was a mere girl when she was scarified, now perched in the lap of such a fearsome creature like she was a lazy house cat.

How can such a relation be so natural?

“What a pretty little thing she is, isn’t she?” Sukuna suddenly stated loudly, his ruby red eyes now dull and clearly showing his boredom as he turned to address the sorcerers before him once more. The woman from before just smiles softly as she curls up into his warmth, not caring about the others in the room; quietly purring at the feeling of a large hand stroking along her face delicately. An action that might seem hard for a man his size to achieve, yet he still somehow manages to treat her like fine china beneath his fingertips.

“I should thank you for being blind enough not to keep a beauty like this for yourselves, but it’s because of your blindness that landed her in my lap in the first place.” Sukuna continued into the silent room, the hand that was once cradling his cheek waved in the air lazily; a smirk tugging against his tattooed face. “All the ones you sent before as sacrifices were quite sad little things; blubbering and whining so much that I rather send their heads back to you so you can see just how pathetic they really were.” He sighs in annoyance, his face curling a little as he remembered all the past women he had.

Some were pretty, yes - but there was just something about them that just irked him. He didn’t know what it was; maybe it was their constant crying, or how they try to pretend to be head strong and threaten to kill him in his sleep. He just took what he wanted before slicing their head off just as he climaxes; not really caring for their own pleasure. It’s not his problem if they were satisfied or not.

However, when his little flower came, sniffling with tearful eyes at how she had been yanked away from her loving family; yet eyes curiously staring up at the man that she had heard so many stories about. There was just something in him that lets him know that she was the one. That she was the one that is going to scratch that insatiable itch that he has whenever he is sent a new sacrifice from the town that he is currently residing in. And he was right. “Yet, with that being said, that doesn’t mean I am not growing tired of your antics. Speak now before I make you.”

Immediately a few eyes glanced over at the woman in his lap, as if they were silently begging for her to lend them a hand. Yet this actual caused Sukuna to scowl as he looks over at the group, snapping his fingers to drag their attention back to him. “Who gave you the permission to turn your disgusting gazes at her? She can’t help miserable excuses like you lot anyway.” He scowls, his eyes narrowing in anger at how they thought they even worthy enough cast their dirty eyes on her, as if she would extend the olive branch to them after they’ve done.

Before he can do anything rash, the woman decided to step in, gently placing her warm hand against the exposed part of his chest from underneath the kimono he had worn. The feeling of the familiar touch caused him to sigh softly as he leans back into his throne once more, but he glared at them with the same intensity as before, watching them for a moment longer. “You know what? I think I know what to do with you lot. I mean, I hope you didn’t forget - you did make my little flower cry.” 

Just as he finished saying that, he gave them all a sadistic smile before he swiped his hand in the air leisurely. His other arms immediately wrapped around the woman, turning her face away from the scene before them as the sorcerers all started to be sliced up one by one by invisible blades, the sound of wails and body parts flying about as they landed on the ground in bloody heaps. A few. who watched their fellow comrades be sliced up in horror before they tried to run, turning and running towards the entrance as if they can escape their fate. 

They should know better than to try something so foolish.

“The clean up is going to be a pain, you know.” Y/N sighed softly as she looks up at her lover, knowing that he was shielding her from the horrors he had committed. If she was being honest, she had never seemed to fear how easily he dispose of others - whenever he does kill people, it usually leads to a much more wider and bigger picture at the end of the day. What she can’t stand though, is the mess he tends to leave behind. “The maids just cleaned the rugs too.”

“It’s their job, flower.” He just sighs and shifted her so she was straddling his lap leisurely, letting her hands rest against his warm chest as two of his arms wrapped around her waist. One of them rested against her cheek lovingly, letting her lean into his touch once more whilst his other hand went back to cupping his cheek in his hand. “You can still make it less dramatic, no?” She mumbles softly with a soft giggle, to which Sukuna just rolled his eyes at her comment. 

“Why make killing so dull? I enjoy the flare of dramatics, flower.”

With a fond roll of her eyes she just leans forward to press soft kisses along his face, knowing that he will not push her away; not when his arms tighten their own hold on her. “Whatever you say, my King.” She cooed at him quietly, still placing feather-like kisses against his face as he closes his eyes for a moment. Soon he grew bored of them, and with a firm hand on the back of her head, guiding her face down to his. He presses a passionate kiss against her as she smiles, her hands trailing up his chest before they found themselves wrapped around his neck where they belong.

Maybe it was an obsession, or maybe it really is fate - whatever the reason may be, he’s going to make sure that his little flower is safe and content. Even if it means killing an entire army of people at her command, or tearing out his heart for her if she so much so as asks.

He is her slave, and he doesn’t see a reason to fight against his faith.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone’s Symphony | Prologue | Hades

Hey lovelies— this will either be a long fic or a short series, depending on how it best plays out. I decided to upload a sneak peak— let me know what y’all think and do enjoy!!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 2.5k (and counting)

Next

Master List

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies— a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies.

Right?

Wrong.

“You’re to make sure she is secured at all times during the next three days— do not leave Miss Y/l/n’s side under any circumstances. Understood?”

Bucky blinks twice, his brows creasing as he stares down his commander, a stubby, burly man with beady eyes. It’s a trial run— he can’t say no. He wants to, he just can’t afford to. Not if he wants a job. Still, he sees no reason for this to be on him. He’s a soldier— a good one. A dangerous one. Watching over little girls isn’t in his job description. He’s a fighter— a monster.

“I need an affirmative, Barnes.”

He bites back a scowl. He’s not trying to get demoted, he knows he’s on thin ice. But, like, isn’t there anyone else? Hell— Wilson is right next to him! Surely he’s better. He’s charming, at least. A flirt. He would be perfect! Wilson would keep her safe. So would he— maybe. Definitely from the threat. From himself, though— well, three days is a long time to avoid sleeping. Even for him.

“Barnes!”

Damnit.

“Understood, sir.”

Wilson’s amused chuckles sound from beside him, his hand landing like a ton of bricks on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky contemplates the repercussions of punching the smug bastard in the middle of a briefing. It can’t be more than a pay dock. He isn’t making that much anyway, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. It would be worth it to wipe that grin off his face. But, no, he can’t. He’ll have to do it later.

“Someone’s on babysitting duty.” Wilson snickers, pressing his fist to his mouth to hide his goading from the commander. “Remember Barnes; no candy after seven.”

“Shut up, Wilson.” He grunts back, just barely stopping his metal arm from flying out and smacking him— from squashing him like the bug he is.

“Think she has a bedtime?”

“Think you could shut up?”

Wilson flexes his fingers, holding them up slightly. Just enough as to not get caught ignoring the briefing but also enough to make sure Bucky notices. “Woah—” he says under his breath, that stupid smirk still heavy in his tone— “someone’s touchy today.”

“It’s a bad decision and you know it.” He says it simply— gruffly— it is the truth after all. He’s dangerous.

Wilson’s face softens, the glee filtering from his tone. “You’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, he just clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to have another conversation about this. You’re a good person. You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your fault. It might not be his fault but he still did it. He still feels it. That makes him bad— if not morally than at least physically. He’s a liability.

“Y/n Y/l/n—” Bucky focuses back on the commander; he may as well learn what he needs to do— “the twenty-five year old heir to the biggest communications technology manufacturing companies in the world. They do dealings with a range of chief institutions including our own White House—”

If Bucky’s teeth weren’t pressed together hard enough to make him wonder if they’re going to disintegrate, then his jaw would be on the floor right now. She’s the what? Did he just say twenty-five? He can’t even remember what he was doing at twenty-five— whatever he was doing it certainly wasn’t that. Granted, he probably doesn’t really want to remember what he was doing. Soldier things. Dangerous things. He shakes his head, huffing out a breath of air.

“Her immediate family have all turned up dead within the last six months—”

Bucky flinches— this time his jaw does drop.

“Holy shit.” Wilson mutters from next to him— Bucky can only nod. No more jokes about babysitting then.

Some pictures appear on the screen behind the commander, each one more gruesome than the last. It is nothing overtly sinister— nothing he hasn’t seen before— nothing worse than anything he’s seen before. Or worse than what he, himself, has done. He shivers, staring at the photos. Two men and a woman, each with a scarlet circle blown through their foreheads. What the fuck.

“Other executives have been found dead as well—” more pictures, more bullet holes— “She is the last one. We don’t know who or why— our mission is to find out, execute, and above all keep Miss Y/l/n alive—”

The pictures change, finally showing the woman who is to be in the soldier’s care, and his heart stops. Not for any normal reason, though— not because of how obscenely beautiful she is or because of the way her eyes pierce through the junky projector as though she were actually in the room with him. Not because of how soft she looks or how he can see the pink sheen of her lip gloss or the way those glossy lips are curved into an open mouth smile— like the picture had been taken mid laugh. No. His heart stops because of how god damn fragile she looks.

In the picture she seems to be at a University with some friends of hers. They’re backed against a brick facade, shoulder to shoulder like some sort of preppy mugshot. It’s probably supposed to be comical— Wilson lets out a hmph next to him, clearly seeing it as well— but Bucky can’t find it in himself to laugh. Not given the circumstances. Regardless though the picture gives him the information he needs to know; that she is a head shorter than the males in the picture. That seems normal— a head isn’t much in the scheme of things. The size difference is nothing.

Nothing unless, of course, you’re a giant super soldier whose genetically modified to be larger, stronger, and faster than the average man. Deadlier than the average man. He won’t be just a head taller than her— he’ll be at least two. Maybe more. And that’s just the height— he doesn’t even want to think about the rest. He is going to be stuck for three days, in what will most likely be a cramped safe house, with a girl who he could potentially break by bumping into her too hard. He can see it now: he takes the corner too fast and the next thing he knows she’s sprawled at his feet, her limbs bent at grotesque angles and her glossy lips flattened. All because he didn’t think to check.

This is going to be a long three days.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As it turns out, there are no safe houses— not legitimate ones at least. What there is, however, is the Wilson’s old family home in Delacroix, Louisiana— a semi falling apart, two-story build with robin's egg blue, fading paint. It is nestled deep into the bayou, hidden meticulously between towering trees. It is miles from any main roads and on the bank of a mostly dead river. Foot traffic is scarce and boats rarely pass on sunny days, let alone during the rainy season— the season it just so happens to be. Perfect.

Well, the location is perfect. The rest is a god damn shit show.

“You ready?” Sam doesn’t look at him— he knows better than that, opting instead to continue staring out at the bayou from behind the wheel.

Bucky, hunched over in the passenger seat, eyes also locked on the blue home, shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Sam sighs and Bucky tries not to tense at the sound. Please, not another lecture— not right now. He tries to ignore the man, gaze pouring over what he assumes is supposed to be a charming porch. Under a dim but sturdy awning there waits a white swing with a long bench seat and some floral pillows. Across from it are two rocking chairs swaying softly in the Louisiana breeze. One has a matching blanket draped over the back. It is supposed to look cozy— he knows it’s supposed to and he is sure to everyone but him that it is cozy. To him, though, it looks like everything he doesn’t have. Like warmth and sunny days and peace. Things he wants and things that make his skin crawl because of how foreign they are to him.

“You’re not going to hurt her.” Sam taps his hand on the wheel, sounding out a pattern that plays more like bullets ricocheting through the cab of the truck than whatever melody it actually is.

Bucky grinds his teeth together. Now he’s looking at the window beside the porch. Is it a kitchen? A mudroom? A den? He isn’t sure, there’s a white curtain pulled across the frame, blocking his vision from whatever waits for him on the inside. Blocking his vision from her. For a moment he thinks he sees the curtain move— a shadow of a hand passing along the edge. He turns away— he doesn’t want to scare her if she’s trying to size him up before they meet. It’s the least he can do. God only knows how terrified she already is.

His stare lands on Sam— an invitation for the soldier to finally look away from the bayou. “But I could, right? That’s what matters here— I could hurt her.”

“No, Buck, you couldn’t— you wouldn’t. You aren’t evil or whatever it is you think you are.” Sam raises a brow and Bucky scowls— it always feels like he’s in his head.

Of course he would never tell Sam Wilson that— like a dog left to fend for himself, he would rather fight.

“Don’t pretend like you have any idea what I think.” He can’t find it in himself to feel guilty for snapping— isn’t that what wild animals do?

Ever the patient animal rescuer, Sam rolls his eyes at the bite. “You’re a good man, Barnes.”

Bucky stares back for a minute, not sure how to even broach an answer, before breaking, snapping his gaze back to the inviting home— his kennel for the next three days. He clenches his jaw, trying not to slam his head against the dashboard for being an idiot. Even Bucky understands that it’s bad when he breaks the stare first— he’s been told before that he has a staring problem. He just doesn’t want to look Wilson in his eyes and explain to him exactly why he’s wrong. Maybe it’s just easier to let him think what he wants.

“Whatever.”

Maybe he wants just one person to truly believe that he isn’t the bad guy— even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“I thought old people were supposed to be mature.”

Bucky flashes him a forced grin, one that tastes like the three hours of sleep he got last night and the five hours of self-loathing, shoving open his door and following it with his foot. “That’s me— the mature one.”

Sam barks out a laugh; either Bucky’s grimace— grin— worked or Sam is choosing to ignore it. “You’re old, not mature— there’s a difference, pal.”

“Hmph.” Bucky jumps out of the truck, yanking the duffle bag over his shoulder as his boots sink into the spongy grass.

His skin dampens immediately, a combination of the marshy climate and the grey clouds hanging above his head. A few droplets fall against his face and he slings a hand over his brows, turning towards his fate for the next three days. Without the barrier of the truck between him and the house, he almost feels like a normal man again. The weak, destructible kind. Theoretically, if the house were to fall on top of him right now he would survive. He would be pinned under the rubble, yes, but alive. It just doesn’t feel like it— it feels like he would be crushed. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end— his hackles rising as he tries not to bare his teeth— or fangs— at this new kind of threat. If only people could see him now; The White Wolf afraid of a charming, bayou home.

What a joke.

He shakes his head, pushing the passenger door shut with a sharp clang. Of course he isn’t afraid of a house— then he really would be an idiot. No, he is afraid of something else entirely— something much more sinister. Bucky is afraid of suburbia; of normalcy. What, with a metal arm and a brain hardwired to kill— it only makes sense he would also be programmed to steer clear of anything half-way decent. Especially pretty, fragile girls with glossy lips. Fuck. He squeezes his eyes closed, his vibranium fingers clenching around the strap of his bag. What is he even doing here?

A familiar, mechanical buzz fills the air and he cracks an eye back open in time to see Wilson leaning his head out of the passenger window. “Look, man— it’s three days. The fridge is full, the wifi is on, and it’ll rain so much she’ll probably nap the entire time. Pretend you’re at home doing whatever it is you would normally do. You’ll be fine.”

Bucky nods, sticking to his guns and letting the soldier believe what he wants. He tells himself again that it is because it is easier that way. “I gotta go, Wilson.”

With that he pushes his way to the door. His feet sink further into the grass with every step, curling around his ankles as though trying to warn him against entering the house— or trying to save the poor girl inside. He can’t decide. Warning or trap. Both. A warning for her— the princess; the little girl in the forest— and a trap for him— the rabid wolf. He steps onto the porch, his boots echoing off the concrete. To him it’s booming. He doesn’t want to think about what it must sound like to her, especially with everything the commander said she’s been through. A giant coming to kill her is his guess. Movement to the left catches his eye, the curtains shifting again, and his neck flushes.

“Hey Buck?”

He sighs— again— and turns over his shoulder for what he hopes is the last time— he just wants to get this over with. “What, Wilson?”

He knows before the man speaks that the cheshire grin on his face can mean nothing good— still he waits for the answer.

“Remember to tiptoe.”

[diazboys]

buddie + “I’m too sober for this.”

mind your own biscuits | buddie + cooking shenaningans | 1k words | ao3

sorry it took me a while! but it was fun to write so i hope it's fun to read, too 😅 special shoutout to @buckbuckley for exchanging all of those Eddie in the kitchen headcanons with me :') 💚

please excuse me the silly tittle, they're just so hard dghassj

.

"I'm gonna kick you out of here if you touch anything else."

"It's my kitchen, you can't kick me out."

"I can and I will, Buckley. Don't test me."

"If you let me just—,"

Eddie turns around, pointing a wooden spoon at Buck, narrowing his eyes threateningly. For a moment, he just stays like that, ready to smack at whichever body part Buck tries to move closer to the counter.

"Don't test me," he says, stressing each word.

In response Buck sticks his tongue out and licks the spoon in Eddie's hand. It's an obnoxious gesture and the grin on Buck's face along with the pleasured sound he lets out makes it even worse. Eddie tries to look disgusted. He's pretty sure that he looks endeared and hopelessly in love instead. Buck does that to him.

"You're disgusting. And leave those tomatoes in peace. I'm too sober for this, you’re making me stressed," Eddie says, but he’s not able to hide the smile in his voice.

"Aren't you supposed to drink during the dinner and not while preparing it?"

Eddie turns back towards the stove, glancing inside the pan. Checking the timer on his watch, he lets the vegetables simmer for another one and a half minutes. He makes sure all of his herbs and spices are measured and ready.

Cooking is not his favourite thing to do and he might not be as skilled as Bobby or Buck but he knows his way around the kitchen. Christopher keeps mocking him, bringing up the disaster of a casserole that burned to a crisp when Eddie got distracted by the TV. It's not his fault that Abeula got him into that one telenovela and he lost track of time when it was on. But the point is, Eddie is a decent cook. He knows how to follow the rules so if the recipe is good — and not some vague shit like "cook until it's done" or "season to taste", he needs specific measurements — he'll manage. And since Buck has been cooking for him a lot, even before they started dating, Eddie likes to return the favour from time to time.

But having Buck hover behind his back all the time can be distracting at times.

"It's the only way I can deal with my annoying boyfriend," Eddie says.

"I like to think it's 'incredibly helpful and wonderful boyfriend'," Buck says, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Buck."

Buck sneaks his arms around Eddie's waist, his whole body pressing against Eddie's back. It feels warm and solid and heavy in the best way. Before Buck, Eddie's never been held like that. At first it made him feel embarrassed and terrified of how much he liked it. How much he needed it. But Buck has always been affectionate, always had the need to protect, to hold, to make sure his loved ones are safe and protected. It made Eddie realise that he has nothing to be ashamed of. Being loved and cared for like that felt too good to hide it. Especially from Buck.

Buck presses his face into Eddie's neck, his lips wandering up to the back of his ear, "I remember you keeping me awake for quite a good part of last night, so you certainly don't help with that."

A pleased hum escapes Eddie's lips, his eyes flutter close and he melts into Buck's embrace. Warm, big hands wander up and down his stomach. Eddie lets out a small sigh. If he turned his head just a bit, he could meet Buck's lips with his own and—

The timer goes off with a quiet and persistent sound. Eddie has to blink twice to remind himself where he is and what he's doing. Quickly but reluctantly, he moves away from Buck, as he lowers the heat under the pan. Buck hands doesn’t let go of him completely, now moving to rest on Eddie’s hips

"I see how it is," Eddie says, stirring and seasoning the sauce. "You come here and try to sabotage my cooking on purpose, so you can then laugh at me and my skills."

"Or maybe it's just hard to keep my hands off my very handsome and very skilled boyfriend," Buck says, his lips on the back of Eddie's neck.

"I won't fall for your games, Buck. Please go sit in the living room and give me ten more minutes."

Buck leans back a bit and tries, "Maybe you want me to chop the—,"

"I don't, you'll do it wrong."

"God, you're a menace in the kitchen. Just because it's not your way, doesn't mean it's the wrong way."

"Do you want that dinner or not?" Eddie turns towards Buck, spoon back in hand.

Because Eddie loves Buck, he really does. He's Eddie's partner both at work and in every other aspect of his life. But Buck in the kitchen when Eddie tries to cook? There's nothing that drives Eddie mad more than that.

Buck's approach to cooking — just like to anything else he does, to be honest — is more of a "follow your heart" kind of thing. Once he's read or heard a recipe, he only vaguely sticks to it, changing things up however and whenever he wishes to. While following his intuition seems to work perfectly well for him, since his cooking is amazing, it doesn't work for Eddie at all. So whenever Buck tries to help Eddie and disrupts his carefully planned process in the meantime, Eddie wants to scream.

Luckily, Buck seems to understand that. Usually he's just messing with Eddie on purpose and backs down long before Eddie can get annoyed for real.

So he just laughs, bright and happy, and leans down to give Eddie a quick kiss. "I love you. Thanks for cooking for me."

"Of course," Eddie smiles. "Please don't try to help me in the kitchen ever again?"

"Fine," with one last kiss, Buck moves away. "I'll set the table then."

.

drabble challenge

[suite43]

this was a commissioned peice of writing for @princemai . If you're interested in a commission, dm me!

Adjusting to life after the war was never going to be easy. How do you coexist with the people who've been trying to kill you for millions of years? It didn't take a nihilist to think that the peace wouldn't last.

Bumblebee counted himself pleasantly surprised that, well, something seemed to last. Peace wasn't the right word, but at least it was less "endlessely killing each other" and more "the entire universe hates us and we can't really blame them". But for the most part, these days, things were peaceful.

That didn't mean it was easy.

You wouldn't call it easy to wake up next to the closest thing you'd ever had to an arch-nemisis wrapped around you. You wouldn't quite know what to do with the fact that as much as he hates to admit it, he's afraid of the dark. And you wouldn't blame yourself for waking up sometimes afraid that you'll find a knife at your throat.

It wasn't easy. But it was peaceful, more or less. Because when Starscream kissed him in that way he did almost every morning, gentle and still half-asleep, Bumblebee could nearly forget he'd ever thought of the mech next to him as dangerous, and a part of him would wonder why it hadn't always been like this.

But then they get up, and the day would go on, and even though there's peace now, there's a lot of history, and Bumblebee can't help but feel like they're both just waiting for everything to turn sideways.

Bumblebee wants to trust Starscream. And he does, on some level at least. Immensely so. Enough to have trusted him with the fate of the universe. But every argument, every time the banter hits just a little bit too close to home, every time Starscream slips back into a crueler, more violent version of himself, Bumblebee wonders to himself if maybe this is it. After all, it wasn't really that long ago that they were shooting at each other.

Starscream has the same thoughts. Obviously, he won't admit it, but it's easy enough to see through his acts once you know him well enough - When did Bumblebee start to know him well enough? How the hell did that happen? It all feels so fast - But sometimes when there's a certain tension in his wings and his fingers curl up ever so slightly and his eyes shoot around, planning his escape, Bumblebee knows that Starscream is just as scared as he is.

It's not always like that. There are moments when they're alone where it feels like none of that matters. They sit together on their couch and they're quiet as they both do their own thing, and Bumblebee shifts to lean against Starscream's shoulder and Starscream wraps one arm around him, his hand idly tracing small circles on Bumblebee's plating, and it just feels right. Bumblebee feels more safe there than anywhere in the universe, curled into the side of one of the most dangerous people in the universe. In a moment like that, he'd tear his spark out and put it in Starscream's hands if he asked him to.

But... It wasn't that long ago that he watched people he loved die at those hands. Those same strong, clever hands that slotted perfectly into his like they were built that way, like everything in their lives had led them to this specific touch. Bumblebee wasn't a big believer in destiny but sometimes everything would line up just so, and if he'd been slightly more of a romantic he'd've called them soulmates.

It was this confusing blend of love and hate, of forgiveness and grudge and grief and adoration that didn't make sense at all and yet when Starscream knows exactly what to order him when they go out it makes perfect sense. And, somehow, it works out.

They've never really talked about... well, whatever this is. It's clearly a relationship, at this point. It's hard to argue for 'just friends' after that many rounds of... well, you know what. It's equally as hard after catching each other after god-knows-how-many nightmares, after thousands of late-late-night conversations, after the way that making each other laugh became the easiest thing in the world, after the way that they would whisper sweet complements between each other like a secret because it was far too embarrasing to say loudly.

So yeah, it was a relationship. But "open, honest communication" was not exactly in Starscream's skillset, and, well, Bee wasn't really sure he wanted to talk about it either. Putting a name on it felt. Dangerous. Like it'd ruin it. There'd be too much pressure, too much commitment, too much... truth. It felt like confessing something that he wasn't ready for.

It was one thing to sleep with Starscream. It was another to, say, kiss Starscream. It was a third thing to literally sleep with Starscream, to trust the second-least-trustworthy person on Cybertron to be with him at his most vulnerable. But to be dating Starscream? To introduce Starscream as his partner? As his conjunx? That was a world of different things that Bumblebee was absolutely not prepared to handle.

What was he supposed to say? Oh, by the way, this is my conjunx. He's killed more people than my brain can even comprehend, but he also saved the universe that one time so it's totally cool now, don't worry!

But he loved him, and that was the problem. He loved Starscream so much, and he wanted everyone in the universe to know about the funny, thoughtful, brilliant person that he loved with all his heart.

And didn't it mean something that Bumblebee had seen Starscream at his absolute worst, and still decided that loving him was worthwhile? It wasn't like Bee was just flailing at the whims of his emotions, he chose to be here. Well, not the first time, that had just kind of happened. But after that, he'd chosen to stay, because loving him seemed worth the trouble of hating him, right? And Starscream was getting better, and that was a good thing.

And who was he worried about knowing? The handful of people Bumblebee would've bothered to tell if they did get married already knew the situation, and it wasn't exactly like either of them were really public figures anymore. The government job Windblade had gotten to keep Starscream busy was mostly just paperwork, and aside from the odd job here or there Bumblebee didn't do much. He'd basically retired. So they weren't going to be the talk of the town or anything. Besides, it's kind of old news, there'd been rumors of them doing something together pretty much since the second the war ended. It wasn't true then, but by now the scandal had kinda worn off and it was more of a "yeah, no shit" kind of gossip.

Still. A decade or so of closeness didn't really feel like long enough for a lifetime commitment, especially after what, four million years of hating each other beforehand?

But... Life is shorter than you expect it to be, right? They'd both died once over the course of this whatever-it-was. And the second time, they really had thought it'd stick, and Starscream sorta-haunting him from another dimension or whatever seemed like it was a permanent commitment, and that didn't scare Bumblebee at all. It sounded nice, not having to be alone again. This was like that, except he could be alone, sometimes, because neither of them could walk through walls or locked doors anymore so all he had to do for some privacy was tell Starscream to politely fuck off for a bit, which was a plus, right? Way more pracitcal.

"Can't we talk about this in the morning?" Starscream complained, eyes half shut, snapping Bumblebee out of his train of thought.

"What?" Bumblebee asked, confused.

"I don't want you to propose while we're drunk and you're rambling, idiot," Starscream was laying in Bee's lap, nuzzling his face into Bee's stomach plating. They were holding hands. When did that happen? "We can talk about it later."

Oh, shit.

"How much of that did I say out loud?"

"I dunno, you talk a lot. You're keeping me up."

"Shit. Sorry."

"S'okay. Your voice is nice."

"Oh." It was quiet for a minute.

"It's okay if you hate me. I get it," Starscream said.

"I don't hate you," Bee responded, blinking a few times, trying to shake off the feeling of spinning. "I like it when you're here."

"But you kind of have to hate somebody a little to love them, right?" Starscream shifted, staring up at the ceiling, head still resting on Bee's stomach. "I mean, it's hard to be with someone all the time.  Especially when you're stubborn and stupid, and you do stupid obnoxious things and I hate it. But if you weren't those things I hate, you wouldn't entirely be you. And I don't just like parts of you, I like you, and I can hate things you do while still knowing that it's you, and I love who you are. Even when we piss each other off. It's still you. Right?"

"Do you think i'm stupid? I'm not stupid."

"You're missing the point."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing so much. I hate it when you apologize." Starscream's hand squeezed his a little tighter.

"Oh... uh. sorry."

"You make me feel... like..." Starscream just kind of trailed off.

"Yeah, I know. you too... uh. I mean. you make me. uh. you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"This is good, right?"

"Mmm, it's gonna feel shitty in the morning, but right now it's good."

"What about after tommorow?"

"I don't know. Ask me then."

"Hm."

"I don't have a plan, Bee. That's not normal for me. But I don't need you to tell me it's going to be like this forever, because it probably won't be. Things don't work out like that for us. But right now, for the first time in my entire life, I'm genuinely satisfied. Can we just enjoy that? I don't know how to be happy, Bee. I don't know how to handle it. But I'm trying to make this work. We can go back to shooting each other tommorow if that's easier for you, but right now, I'm happy."

"Yeah? Yeah. Me too. God, I'm happy," Bumblebee pulled their joined hands up, pressing a kiss to Starscream's knuckles where they intersected. "I'm happy that you're happy. I want you to be happy."

"I know," Starscream said. He muttered something else, but it was quiet and slurred and Bee couldn't quite make it out. In his head, Bee imagined it was something along the lines of I love you.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch 20

You find yourself in a forest

Odd when did you get here? Had you walked here? Driven? You...you can't seem to remember. How on Earth did you get here?

(The contents of this chapter are sexual in nature please don’t interact if you are below the age of 18)

Oh Gods you hoped you didn't have an episode while driving again. Even under normal circumstances just the thought upsets you but after finding out Toby's life changing accident the thought now left an acidic taste in your mouth. Similar to when you're sick and have the residual vomit in your mouth no matter how many times you brush your teeth. A very unpleasant experience.

A tall figure looms in the distance taking you out of your musings. You've seen him before, haven't you? Long spindly tendrils stretch out from behind the figure, much like the whisps that led you through the shop the other day. Had it not been for their serpent like movements you'd have thought the being was just another tree in this dense dark forest.

This sure didn't look like the Monongahela. You close your eyes for a moment, just resting your eyes. Your head feels so foggy right now.

You're so tired too, have you been sleeping? When was the last time you slept? Why can't you remember?

It's fine calm down, you just need to think. The fog is so thick, it's hard to focus. Why can't you just focus?

Come on YN, you need to focus, focus, focus!

In an instant that figure is right in front of you. They are so much taller, craning your head back doesn't do much to get a good look at them. You can't make any features out on the shockingly pale face. And here you thought Toby was deathly pale, you may as well have been staring death in the face.  Given the black suit and red tie you might actually be.

Being dead would explain the fogginess of your memories and why things aren't exactly connecting. Had Toby killed you? No, he wouldn't. Maybe the two of you got into an accident on the drive home.

But where's Toby then? Had he survived the crash? Is it bad to hope he's dead too? That boy wouldn't be able to handle another traumatic event. Hell he seemed one major inconvenience away from peacing out when you'd met him, he still has those moments.

Where are you going to go? This wasn't anything like you were expecting, but the again Hollywood's never given you any sort of accuracy before why would they be the ones reporting on life's biggest mystery?

A tendril slips its way around your throat tilting your head up to stare into the pale face of the figure before you. Squeezing as it does, gently not so much to actually suffocate you.

'You are not dead child, you could not be further from it.' a masculine voice echos in the empty space of you mind. The voice rang so clearly it rattled the walls of your brain.

A literal 'brain goes brrrr' moment.

If you aren't dead then...this has to be a dream. The only other explanation for why everything feels so fuzzy and you have so much brain fog.

'Correct, you are in a dream...of sorts. I've summoned you here to review your progress thus far. I must say you've far exceeded my expectations, no thanks to my failing puppet.' the tendril tightens around your neck, again not enough to choke you out. Just a very firm squeeze.

Firm enough that it has you pressing your thighs together. Haven't you taken care of this yet? This situation is so embarrassing because even though you can't see the expression of the being before you they have an omnipotent air around them.

They sense your hunger building, maybe that's why the appendage around your throat tightens once again. You're left a bit breathless.

'I'm very pleased with both of your results. A reward is in order,'

The figure's head moves slightly as their attention shifts to something behind you.

'I believe he'll benefit from this as well.'

He?

Without a moment to think anything else, not like you could in your current state, you were turned around. Where you came face to face with....another faceless entity? No the man in front of you clearly had a face – had the tall pale being not? The man's face was there but you couldn't really make out what you were looking at like it was pixelated in some way to protect his identity on the evening news.

You could see that he had a mop of brunette waves, unlike the tall one who was to your knowledge completely bald. More tendrils wrap themselves around you, on your legs and around your mid section. Legs are spread apart as you're lifted off the ground.

Open and inviting to the form before you. Just what kind of reward is this?

Before you can protest you quickly become aware of the fact that you are naked.. Bare chest on display as nipples harden in the chill of the air. You squirm to try and get away but the hold the tendrils have is too strong for you to break out of. Your legs are lifted until they are face level with the person in front of you.

Yup totally a dream, just a monster fucker having a wet dream. Normal everyday thing.

'To be quite honest it's less of a reward and more a test. But it should prove enjoyable for both of you.'

Hearing the sound of a zipper you freeze, out of shock rather than fear. You were joking when you'd called this a sex dream. You've never had one before and it's surprising to say the least. Do all sex dreams start this strangely?

A pair of fingers find their way to your mouth. Without thinking you opened up and took them in. Letting them go as far back as they could. They played with your tongue, dancing up and down it. Pressing hard here giving a rub there, shoving it between the two of them making sure your saliva coated every single spare centimeter of them.

You found it a bit difficult to breathe around them let alone swallow. They had a salty with a hint of something metallic, like he had an open paper cut. The texture was rough and very different from your own fingers, you could feel divots near the nail bed and loose hardened skin scrapping the inside of your mouth. Sometimes when you swallowed around the fingers you'd get a sharp thrust in return, like he was trying to hit the back of your throat with only his fingers. You nearly took in his pinkie like this. A harsh groan would follow and you'd moan along.

All the tendrils on your body gave a light squeeze at the show. You heard a whisper of 'Good pets.', this time it was echoed through the forest surrounding you.

“Fuck off.” the man who currently had his fingers nearly reaching down your throat growled out.

Before he he gently grabbed on of your legs, moving your body closer to him. Flutters of lips trailed their way up from your knee to your inner thigh. A playful nip stings a few inches from your core. Involuntarily your thighs press together, squishing the head in between the,. It wasn't long before you felt warm breath blow onto your core. You could hardly keep back the trill when a pair of lips wrapped around your clit and a tongue started to dance circles around it. It was a simple set of motions but ones that seemed to hit just right. You didn't know whether to be thankful or hate the tendrils for preventing you from bucking right into the pleasure.

Taking deep breaths to collect yourself didn't work if anything it made for a pseudo pant which left you even more feverish than the lapping at you clit. He flattens his tongue against you and you shudder as he slowly drags it along your slit giving a flick to the hood of you clit. He angled his tongue so he could carefully dance that line between your clit and it's hood. Toes curling you aren't able to contain yourself anymore. A panting and flushed mess as you moan around his fingers, a trail of saliva runs out from the corner of your mouth and down the expanse of your neck. You can't stop your hips as they weakly buck towards him, still stifled by the tendrils stilling them.

The man between your legs stiffens.

Even with him looking right up at you, you can't see past whatever fog is playing at your mind, but you do know that he's just as much of a mess as you are in the moment. Just from going down on you, the poor boy, now you really want to shove his face deep between your legs and not let up until he can't breathe.

Maybe you can.

Your hands haven't been bound like your legs, so you should have no problem grabbing his hair and pulling him in.

'Oh, he'd like that very much. Give it a go pet.' the disembodied voice says, once again in your head.

Wasn't there a body to go with that voice earlier? Yeah, there was, where'd he go?

Your legs are still bound by the tendrils but the tall man is no where in sight anymore. What a strange dream.

A wet dream you remember as your focus returns to the man between your legs. Might as well make the most of it.

The man seems distracted as he glares at something behind you, but you know nothing it there – you've just checked. This gives you the perfect opportunity to grab a fist full of his hair and drag him back down to your puffy lips to finish what he started. He was more than willing as he needed no further instructions and went straight to giving light kitten licks to your aching clit. Frustrated pants and whimpers leave you as he just works you up and pulls back. He's teasing at this point and seems very pleased with himself.

“Pl-please.” you keen  when he pulls away for a second time. Instead of answering your plea he massages the meat of your thighs as he stares up at you from between your leg. You can see one hand in between his own legs most likely toying with his cock like he toys with you.

Just the thought of his cock has you bucking into him, but it seems to do the trick. He begins to suck on your bud again. This time you have a bit more mobility and can grind your hips down in time to his sucking. It's getting wetter and sloppier down there by the second, like he's trying to collect all the liquid in his mouth but can't really hold it there.

For a third time the pleasure stops, and you feel like crying. It's so unfair your first wet dream and you're saddled with an edger.

You let out a whimper and raise your hips again in a pathetic attempt to demand his attention back to where it's needed. While his face is still featureless to you there's a sense of smugness around him. Oh joy a sadist. A harsh spit rings through your dream bubble. But you don't feel anything land on you.

A wet squelching sound can be heard. The blood just doesn't know where to go anymore, to your face or to your core? Clearly none of it's going to your brain when you only thought it , 'Oh shit he's jerking off.' on repeat.

You're very thankful that the tendrils are just holding you up instead of keeping you spread now as you're able to squeeze and rub your thighs together. Trying to get any friction to alleviate your ache. All while you cry and choke around thick fingers.

“Pretty mouse.” his voice is a rumbled timber.

Fingers press harshly into your tongue before slowly pulling out and spreading you legs back open for him. His thumb trails your inner thigh, the nail scratching the unmarked skin as it went. Making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he let out a breathy chuckle.

He began toying around with your folds with his two spit soaked fingers, “Yea, li-ike that? Make some more pretty noises for me.” His fingers twirled around the entrance of your pussy. Lighting the nerves on fire with each passing circle they made.

Gods, he hasn't even been in you and you're already about to cum. But he was ignoring your clit now. Snaking a hand down you settle it above his and before you can even touch it he's smacking your hand away.

“Nuh-uh mouse.” he gives a sharp smack to your bud, making you jolt as you let out a little 'eep'.

He laughs at your reaction, “Don't worry I'm going to-to-to make you feel so good.” he smirks, “in time.”

That'd be a no for you. You can take three edgings but four is just asking too much, especially for a dream. You aren't one to be bratty often but you're already pent up in the waking world like hell you'll let yourself be edged in the dream one too.

“Fuck you're cute, even when you pout.” suddenly a hand grasps your jaw and pulls you down, it's a bit uncomfortable with your bindings still in place. Your faces are just inches apart right now and you still have no clue who he's supposed to be but sometimes faces are hard for brains to make up. He could just be someone you saw in town once and don't remember.

He leans in and kisses you. It doesn't take anything for you to open your mouth and let him in, there's a hint of tang on his tongue. No discernible taste just a bit of tang. He makes sure to glide his tongue across every inch of your mouth, making sure you taste yourself. You can feel his smirk in the kiss as you moan. Can feel the pumping of his hand on his cock now that you're so close together.

The thought of his cock makes your core pulse with need. And as if he can read your thoughts he pulls away, leaving you panting and horny. “Now that's a cute look too.” The tip of his middle and ring fingers are in you spreading the ring of your entrance far apart. “But then this on-one's my favorite.”

As you writhe and moan you can't help but think of how much you hate that boyish lilt in his tone right now. He scissors his fingers and twists them this way and that, occasionally plunging them as deep into you as they can go. And while your panting and whimpers are lovely he quickly figures out that you're much more receptive to the teasing of your entrance. The way just the tips of his fingers work in lighting up hundreds of nerve endings.

How he can leave you right on the edge of orgasm only to take that away by pulling out slightly or diving in further. It's a good game, but he eventually grows bored of just your facial expressions and wants to chase his own release. So, he leans in towards your core to watch the way your walls clamp down on his finger tips as they spread you apart. Trying to squeeze around the foreign objects to eject them out but if he surges his hand forward the walls constrict in a way the feels like they are trying to suck him deeper into your depth. All the while you moan and whine, just for him.

So enraptured with your being he isn't really paying attention to you anymore. You want to end his teasing, you just want to cum. It's not surprising at all that he hardly noticed you grabbed a fist full of his hair. But he certainly notices when you pull him to your core and hold him in place. The pressure on his scalp letting him know just how tightly you have him.

There's a moment when he does nothing, just stares up at you from between you legs. Through hooded eyes he continues to make eye contact as he brings his mouth to your clit, even as you buck into him.

“Good boy.” the words just tumbled from your mouth in a moan.

One that gets echoed by the man kneeling before you. It's a needy little moan, one that changes things.

“Good boy,” he goes faster, not just on your clit but he also starts stroking himself faster.

“Ah – aaah, good  boys wai-it oh – wait to cum.” his hand slows and you hear a mumbled 'Good boys wait.' causing your grip to tighten as you pull him up by his hair to look into your face – even if you can't see his.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“N-no!” you can feel the shiver that runs through him.

Big guy isn't so tough now that you found his kink, damn this dream sure is exploring a lot of your owns though.

“That's right, now you've been awfully naughty. Edging me like that. Doesn't seem like you want to be a 'good boy'.”

“I want to – want to be a good boy, very good boy.” his hand is still going, you'd honestly be surprised he hadn't cum if this weren't a dream.

“Hmm, finish what you started. Then...maybe you'll be my good boy.” a series of moans followed as he bucked into his hand. Apparently you'd said a trigger for him and he came just from that alone.

You want to find it in you to play up being upset with him maybe even play up how he wasn't a good boy after all – cumming like that. But you could tell from the way his shoulders sank in that he felt ashamed that he didn't last until you were done with him.

Sometimes a gentle hand is needed. “Oh my poor baby. I didn't know how excited that'd make you.” you cup his face gently. He's trying to make himself smaller. “Now now of that, you can make it up to me.” He perks up.

“You want to make it up to me right?” you slide back away letting you hands fall off his chin, and he follows your movement leaning to feel your touch again.

You give him a smile and stroke his cheek, “Then make me cum.” it was a breathy whisper as you took the opening to initiate a kiss with him. No tongue was involved this time just an urgent need and movement of lips.

You pull away from him and get a small whimper in return. Pay back would sure be sweet right now had he not riled you up this much then got off himself.

He's sliding back down between your legs, barely giving himself a chance to settle in before twirling his fingers just outside your entrance. Face diving to lick several long stripes along your slit.

'Seems everything is in order here. I trust you both will behave in my absence.'

“What?”

Waking up horny and unsatisfied with the fainest memory of your wet dream fading further and further from memory was definitely one way to start your Saturday. But it wasn't the preferable way or a fun one. Especially when it involved a pair of soaking panties and an hour to even satiate your needy pussy.

[subbe93]

Day 6: Can I have this dance?

A/N: I got the inspiration for this, thanks to @gisachi who like thousand years ago (or being more realistic, a half year ago xD) answered my ask about ShinRan dancing :3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The day had changed in the evening and somehow it was surprising how fast time flies by when you have so much to do. The whole day Ran hasn't done anything else than work. Go there, be there, and it wasn’t like Ran didn’t like her job, but sometimes she felt like there were too much to do to one human. It was evening already and like yesterday and the day before, there was still so much to do before she could even be thinking about going to sleep. Oh, and earlier she dreamed to curl up in her husband’s arms and just be. Seemed like it would stay like a dream. Well, at some point this rush is going to end, and when this happens, Ran would have enough free time to do whatever she liked. And that was her motivation. She could do this!

So, Ran opened the gate, which she closed behind her, and went through to the yard to the front door. The warmth and scent of the food in the hallway was her first welcome. Ran realised how hungry she was. God, she felt like she could eat anything!

“I’m home”, she shouted while closed the door behind her. She changed her shoes to the slippers.

“Welcome back”, a familiar voice greeted. Ran straightened her spine and saw how the man came out from the living room. He smiled. “How was your day?”

Ran sighed even though she didn’t want to. “Busy”, she answered and put her jacket on the coat rack. Then she stepped forward to Shinichi, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a fast kiss on the lips before she has to lock up to study. “And I still have so much to do, so… Well, you know...”

Shinichi sneered, and Ran didn’t even stay to wait for an answer. She was ready to go to study – since Shinichi wasn’t working -, when suddenly a hand grabbed her shoulder and made her stop.

“But before you go”, Shinichi’s voice said behind her with a perky tune, “I have a little surprise for you.”

“Surprise?” Ran repeated when Shinichi turned her around and pushed her towards the living room. He stopped her in the doorway.

“Tada!” he shouted. “Dinner is ready, just for you and me.”

Ran didn’t find words. There was a candle middle of the table, two plates, glasses, and a jar of water. On the big dish, there were many kinds of sushi and on a bowl, there were fried noodles with sauce.

Ran smiled. She knew that Shinichi had ordered these foods from somewhere, just put them out on dishes, but still, the thought was still kind and beautiful. Moment of spending time together, eating together in the candlelight, in each other’s arms…

She felt her smile fading away slowly. So beautiful and nice thought…

She felt how Shinichi’s hands grabbed on her arms while he pressed himself towards her back. First, she felt his breath through her hair, then a slow, long kiss. “Moment of indulgence for my beautiful and lovely wife”, she heard him said. Another kiss. “And on the fridge, there is your favorite dessert.”

“Oh, Shinichi”, Ran whispered, and as much as she wanted to turn around and kiss him as a showing him how much she appreciated this, she couldn’t. Even the thought of breaking this moment was too much for her, but that’s how it was. She should just take some food with her and go to do work as soon as possible. She didn’t have time for this…

But as soon as this rush would be over, she would make this up to Shinichi. At least he had invested in this…

”I’m so sorry, love”, she said in the end and break out of his arms. She turned towards him and smiled as apologetic as possible. “I need to continue my work, I don’t have time for… this…”

“Ran…”

“I know, I’m sorry”, she interrupted and looked down. She didn’t want to meet his disappointed expression. Shinichi had worked so hard for this… And really, it felt so bad to turn him down. But she would make this up somehow, later… “You can eat, I eat a little later…”

Ran was already fleeing from the room when a hand grabbed her arm, making her stop again. Ran turned to him and looked at him. Surprisingly he didn’t look angry or disappointed. Instead, he smiled mischievously.

“That’s okay, but then, can I have one dance?”

“What?” Ran glared at him like she has heard him wrong. A dance? In a time like this?

Blue eyes didn’t break up from her gaze while his hand moved down on her arm to the palm. He grabbed it. “Can I have this dance?” he asked.

Ran waited that Shinichi would start to laugh or anything else which would show that he was just joking with her, but no. His facial expression didn’t twitch.

He was serious.

Eventually, Ran gave a laugh and looked away. “Shinichi, really, I don’t have time…” She tried to pull her hand out, but his grip just tightened. She silenced with confusion.

“I know that Mrs. Kudo’s time is expensive”, he said eventually, and even if Ran had declined stubbornly, he didn’t sound angry or disappointed. “But she has worked many days without breaks, so I demand: either you dance with me two minutes, or we are going to have dinner peacefully and without hurry.” He led her hand closer to him and bowed a little. “You choose”, he whispered while his breath tickled Ran’s back of the hand before he gave a tender kiss on it.

Ran didn’t know if she should get angry or cry. She really didn’t have any time for this! Actually, she should be working right now, not standing here wondering if she should dance or have dinner with her husband. Why Shinichi made this much harder than it should have been? Why Shinichi didn’t understand? Why he needed to be romantic and demand attention right now when she has so much to do?

But did she really have choices? Even though she wanted to get angry and lock herself on to study, she knew that rest of the evening she would just have a bad conscience because she would have hurt Shinichi who just tried to give her attention and love. It was just a bad time for that, nothing more. And it seemed like Shinichi has decided to be stubborn with this, so he wouldn’t give up if she tries to say "no" in a gentle way…

Hah, and Shinichi dared to say that Ran was stubborn.

“Fine”, she sighed eventually. “One dance, two minutes. Then I need to go to work.”

“Fine”, Shinichi answered while he straightened and then he gently pulled her against him. Ran smiled shortly when she felt a hand on her lower back, which would just make sure that she wouldn’t try to run away. She raised her other hand to his shoulder. Shinichi started to move slowly. Only then Ran realised that there wasn’t any music. She moved a little to meet Shinichi’s face.

“You’re not going to put some music?”

He met her gaze. “No.”

“Why not?”

The man smiled shortly and looked away. “With you, two minutes is a short time. I can’t waste any of it just for music.”

For a moment Ran stared at his profile before smiled shortly and looked away. With a slow rhythm, she let her cheek lean against Shinichi’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She let peaceful swinging and silence to took over her every sense. All that sound and hurry somehow melted away, feeling like something that happened a long time ago. Like a memory. With those warm arms around her and familiar scents filling her world, she almost started to believe that everything had been only her imagination. Leaning against the man who was peaceful himself, she started to wonder if she really was so busy as she told herself.

Now that she thought of it when was the last time that she had time to curl up against Shinichi? Yes, they had changed kisses before and after work, send some messages to each other, and slept on the same bed every night. But truth to be told, it felt like forever when she last time has time to stop and enjoy Shinichi’s presence. She didn’t remember when she gave herself enough time to enjoy Shinichi’s love and affection that he probably has tried to give her. When was the last time they had hugged, giving proper kisses instead of fast pecks? When was the last time they had sat down and talked, telling each other’s days or what was on their mind? When? Ran didn’t remember. She has been so busy, only thinking about her work. That wasn’t a good reason at all, but… Hopefully, Shinichi knew and understood. Of course, even though Ran has been so busy with her work and hadn’t given her husband much attention, he knew that she still loves him, right? Of course, Shinichi would know…

Or did he? Ran felt anxious hitting her hard. God, when was the last time she told him that she loves him? She didn’t remember. She opened her eyes and looked at her husband’s jaw and cheek. Now would be a good time to remind him. She opened her mouth.

”You know, I have the loveliest wife in the world.”

Ran shut her mouth and frowned. Where did he get that thought so suddenly? And if Ran could be honest, right now she didn’t feel like she deserved that. But with Shinichi? About that subject, it was pointless to argue. And truth to be told…

Truth be told, Ran would only lie to herself if she would say that she didn’t love to hear it. Every time Shinichi told her that she was the most beautiful and loveliest wife, it made her blush like a little girl while her heart started to race on her chest. And every time it made her happy to hear that. Because she knew that Shinichi didn’t say things like that for a fun.

“Oh, really?” she answered with a smile on her lips. She closed her eyes again. “What makes her so great and lovely?”

“Everything”, Shinichi answered while they were still swinging slowly. “She is wise, emotional, strong in many ways, fair… and very, very selfless.” He kept a little break. “So selfless that she usually forgets that sometimes she should be also selfish.” Ran felt how the grip on her lower back tightened. “She always thinks about others. She does everything for others, take care that those who she cares deeply is fine, that nothing bothers them, but she always forgets herself.” He smiled shortly. “And she is so patient. I don’t even know what I have done to deserve a woman like her. Every time I have much work to do, it feels like I forgot everything around me. There are only cases after cases, and I just go with them. Sometimes I feel like I just come home from the crime scene, locked up in the study, and then I left either back to the crime scene or police station. I eat if I have time, sleep if I remember, and give a kiss to my wife if I happened to meet her on the way. She is so great, and I dare to treat her like that.”

Ran smiled. Yeah, sounds familiar. Sometimes he just happened to have some thought cases and other times there just happen to be so many that she rarely sees Shinichi even though he would come home. How often Ran had brought some food and coffee to the study and late in the evening went to get him on the bed.

“And yet”, he continued, “and yet my wife supports me, take care that I eat, take a shower, change my clothes and get some sleep. And usually, that stubborn woman comes and tells me that I have to take a break from my work.”

Ran laughed. “Oh, what a terrible woman”, she commented.

“You tell me”, Shinichi answered. “There is so much to do, and such a hurry that culprit doesn’t get away or the key of the case wouldn't disappear, there is not enough time, and then my wife comes and demands that I take a break.” He gave a laugh. “And every time I resist, tell her that there is no time, and every time that beautiful wife of mine fight back until she got what she wants.”

Oh yeah, Ran remembered those arguments and shouts when she had tried to get him out of the study, take a break even for a moment that… that…

Ran opened her eyes… Wait…

“And every time I realise that the break is something I really need”, he continued. “Every time I realise that I relax when I get my thoughts away from the cases. My wife has made some delicious food for us, I spend some time with her… And eventually, I realise that there is no hurry anymore. And when I get back to work, I see things differently, and before I know it, the answer is there, right before me.”

Ran let out a gasp and wasn’t sure if she should cry or laugh.

“So, I think it’s awesome that I have a wife who manages to fight with me that I have a break from my work”, Shinichi continued and stopped. Ran smiled shortly like a loser before she seceded a little that she could meet Shinichi’s face. He looked at her already. Ran smiled sadly.

“You have a wise wife”, she said and took a deep breath. “I wonder if she is able to keep those breaks herself.” Well, she knew the answer already.

Shinichi smiled and let go of her hand only to raise it on her cheek. Ran leaned to touch. “Mmm, I told you, my wife has a bad habit to think others, but forget herself”, he answered. “But… I hope that maybe I could also be stubborn enough to get my wife to keep some break.”

Ran laughed. “Well, you have learned from the best”, she said and raised her free hand to touch his. She closed her eyes enjoying this moment. “Thank you, Shinichi.”

She didn’t get an answer, but she felt movement and soon she felt his lips against her. She answered on that gently and lovely kiss, trying to forward all her feelings to him, trying to let him know that she still cared, she still loved…

He broke up slowly from the kiss, and reality started to come back to Ran. No, not yet…

"Two minutes have gone, Mrs. Kudo”, he said quietly. Ran opened her eyes only to see those soft blue eyes which she could stare at all day without getting tired of them. “You are free to go back to your work. And remember to take some food with you. And take enough that you got your belly full, and you manage to work before I come to get you to sleep.”

Ran couldn’t be smiling. “But don’t you always say that you think better with an empty stomach?”

“Mmm”, Shinichi mumbled like he was thinking. “You know, I have seen you when you are hungry, and if I can be honest, it’s something I don’t want to witness if I don’t have to.”

Ran rolled her eyes but laughed. Then she looked at the table which still waited that someone would sit down and start to eat.

Suddenly Ran felt like she doesn’t have to hurry. Her work would wait while she would have dinner with Shinichi. It wouldn’t take too much time. And she believed they both deserved it. She would have enough time to do some work after dinner, and who knows, maybe after delicious food and some rest, those works wouldn’t take so much time to get done.

”You know”, she started and turned towards him. She let her hand from the shoulder slide for his lower back. “I know we agreed that it would be either one dance or dinner, but… do you think that your lovely wife would still get the dinner on the same deal?”

[candychronicles]

elysian // s. daichi

A/N: my take on the Haikyuu Headquarters mythology nsfw collab! this was my first time writing for Daichi. i took a greek myth route and had so much fun!!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Daichi Sawamura x F!reader

WORD COUNT: 2,859

WARNINGS: manipulation, oral (F!receiving), mentions of several religions

SYNOPSIS: all your life you had been fighting only to end up at a boring 9-5 with nowhere to turn. Daichi has a proposition and you accept without realizing the consequences. 

Want to read more myths and legends? Click here! 

you were always fascinated with the idea of something larger than you, something so fantastical and great that it consumed the earth over and over again. while many people turned to other religions or no religion at all, satiating their own desires for redemption, love and acceptance, you chose to dig deeper, look at what truly resonated with your life and dutifully settled upon the greek gods. 

they didn’t sugarcoat the bad things they did, that they used their power any way they pleased, that they were stronger, faster and larger than life. they were powerful gods who held powerful positions and were unpredictable, wild and fluid in their dance with humanity. you admired the stories from years ago of how they defeated the titans and split the land between the three sons: the skies for Zeus, the seas for Poseidon and the underworld for Hades. 

Hades had always spoken to you in a way you couldn’t describe. when you worshipped him needing guidance, offering him dark chocolate and sweet, rich red wines, he complied with very little hesitation, always wanting to seemingly please you as long as you kept up your worshipping of him. he became quite moody, jealous and wouldn’t want to talk to you for days if you spent too much time interacting with the other gods. to be frank, you loved the attention he showered you with and felt at ease knowing he would protect you for life.

sighing, you pulled your apron tight around your waist, ready for another day at work slinging coffees and cakes to the less than pleasant customers that walked through the door. being a barista seemed like fun in cliche stories and movies but it was actually just another job that got you through your boring summer. 

it only took an hour before people began screaming and shouting, angry at your lack of speed and pleasant smile on your face. it was just you and two other people there serving a line of ten plus at any given time and while you all tried your best, things never seemed to go the way they were planned.

“one large coffee, black.”

you took a deep breath before plastering a smile on your face, giving the man with the honey sweet voice a price and looking up, the smile threatening to spill onto your cheeks as you recognized Daichi, one of your favorite customers and now good friends.

“thought you might need one friendly face among the crowd of crazy,” he joked, tapping his sleek black credit card against the machine to pay, making sure to leave a hefty tip before nodding and walking away.

he sat for another two hours in the shop, nursing on his coffee and working on his laptop as he waited for you to get a break. when the line finally died down, your rushed from behind the counter and plopped yourself down in the booth across from him.

“what brings your handsome face around here?” you asked, tapping your feet against the ground as the anxiety of the day began to wear off.

“coming to see you as always,” he replied smoothly, downing the last of his coffee before placing the cup back on the table.

“you haven’t been around for awhile,” you pouted, not caring that you sounded desperate.

“i’m sorry but you know work can get oddly busy at times. how about i make it up to you? dinner, tonight at seven? my treat, anywhere you want to go.”

you gaped at him, not sure of what to say. you two had been flirting for months, the only friendly face you had really seen outside of the occasional older lady who always bought you a snack or drink for being so kind and patient with them. he was always sweet as candy, sugary words viscously flowing out of his mouth. at first you thought he was just some tightwad business man looking to get into your pants but as you got to know him, you realized he was just naturally kind, always looking out for the underdog. he treated you with the respect and decency that you deserved and maybe you were just so used to being treated like shit most of the time but his upfront and honest nature just blew you away.

before you had a chance to even reply, he looked at his phone, frowned and stood up.

“i’ll see you at seven, text me your address, yeah?”

with that and a gentle caress of your chin, he practically dissolved into thin air. you blinked once, twice, three times trying to process what had just happened before digging into your pocket to text him your address, not even remembering giving him your number but sure enough, there he sat in your contact with a simple flower next to his name.

the rest of the day went by in a blur and before you knew it, you were sitting on your couch, donned in your best dress, sparkling earrings dangling from your ears and shiny jewels adorning your body. you frowned as you checked the time, noticing it was already ten past seven. just as you were about to give up, you received a text from Daichi.

i’m sorry princess. something big came up at work. i’ll make it up to you. first thing in the morning, dress for the outdoors and bring a jacket, it’ll be a bit chilly where we’re going. i’ll see you then.

you huffed, throwing your phone down on the couch before stuffing your face in your hands, trying not to cry. you began methodically undressing yourself, taking off all your accessories and makeup, barely listening to the TV in the back drone on about some factory explosion that had happened in the next town over, killing two hundred people practically at once. you stopped to share some of the jewels with Hades, lighting his black flame and watching it dance in excitement, thanking him for never leaving you, even in the harshest of times. with all the makeup off, the dress peeled from your body and your shiny jewels laid on the table, you collapsed in bed, too tired and confused to dress yourself again.

a knock on the door had you scrambling off of your bed, hurrying to find a robe before peeking through the peephole to see who woke you up at such an early time on your rare day off. your eyes widened in surprise before squeaking, peeling the door open just a pinch to greet Daichi who held a rather large bouquet of flowers in his hand, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and squinting his eyes as he held the petals out towards you.

“Daichi, i-”

“i’m real sorry about last night. crazy last minute meeting, totally unexpected. i promised i’d make it up to you though, right?”

you opened the door to him at that, blushing when you realized you were only in your robe before practically sprinting to your bedroom to begin getting ready. when you were ready, jacket in hand, you walked back out, a sheepish smile on your face.

“i uh, really didn’t think you would be here in the morning. thought you were just trying to lead me on or something,” you confessed.

“now doll, i think you know me better than that by now,” he chastised, standing up from your couch to offer you his arm.

you took it instantly, a bounce in your step as you followed him out of your apartment, listening to the door close with a resounding thud. 

it took only a few minutes before you were sat in his sleek black car practically oozing with the feeling of money. you gingerly sat down in the leather seats, instantly feeling drowsy. shaking your head, you tried to fight it off but was stopped by Daichi.

“it’ll be a little bit of a drive before we get to where we’re going. you can take a nap, it’s okay. i’m a safe driver. i promise i won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

with his soothing words, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, allowing yourself to be completely relaxed in his presence.

a small jerk woke you up and you blinked, looking out the window to see fields and fields of picture perfect flowers. you were practically surrounded by them, the only clearing being the dirt road you came on and patch of grass leading up to a hill.

“Daichi…” you breathed, speechless by the beauty of the location.

“c’mon, lets eat.”

you practically scurried out of the car, eyes wide as you continued to scan your surroundings. he dutifully began taking the picnic out of the car, setting down the blanket, basket, food and drink in a tasteful and elegant way. you absolutely melted seeing all the delicious food that was laid out for you. before you had a chance to eat, however, Daichi grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his arms and looking you in the eyes.

“y’know, i’ve been absolutely fascinated with you since the first day i met you, all doe-eyed and innocent. the world has knocked you down so many times and yet you still get back up to fight another day. tell me, if i offered you a life of luxury, of eternal peace, full of love and richness, never having to work a day in your life if you didn’t want to, would you take it?”

you were taken aback by his words, not understanding where they were coming from. sure, you two had spent so much time chatting at your coffee shop, sharing your hopes and dreams with him, confiding in him like you would no one else, but you didn’t realize he had taken it all to heart, that he had actually fallen in love with you like you him. you didn’t even realize in that moment that you had even really loved him until he said those words, looked deep into your soul like he knew everything about you and then some.

“i mean, if you’re offering, yeah, i think i’d like a life like that, but maybe once i got to know you first,” you only half joked, wanting to know more about him, a sucker for an idyllic life.

“just say yes and you can spend all the time in the world getting to know me.”

“yes, Daichi, i would take it in a heartbeat.”

he surged forward with that, lips attaching to your own with such ferocity that you weren’t even sure what to do. he tasted like rich chocolate, wine and coffee, a delicious medley on your tongue as you reacted on instinct alone. something about this, with him, felt so right. your head was muddled with thoughts of Daichi and only Daichi, a man who was so mysterious and yet so supportive, always there when you needed him, seemingly popping up out of the blue on your worst days. listening to your problems with a frown on his face, doing everything he possibly could to make you feel better, never overstepping his boundaries and cherishing the time you spent together like there was no tomorrow.

he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he took you to the ground, flowers crunching around your body as he laid on top of you, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin of your neck, relishing in the way you went breathless just from his lips alone.

“tell me that you want me, that you need me, that you worship me, that i’m the only man you’ll ever need,” he commanded, popping the buttons open on your shirt and ravishing your chest, tweaking your bare nipples in his hands, the cold shocking you to the core.

“you’re all i’ll ever need, Daichi,” you confirmed, too consumed in your own pleasure, wanting to feel more and more of him until he was all you could think of.

“let me take care of you princess.”

with that, he delicately pulled your shirt off, your pants coming down next, your underwear not receiving such a kind fate as they were cruelly ripped off your body. you gasped as you felt his hot breath on your thigh, squirming underneath his touch, the way his tongue danced along your inner thigh, flesh sinking in between his teeth. you whined at the way his cold fingers ghosted over your clit, just barely there but enough to make you go crazy.

“Daichi, please, i need you, please.”

he complied without resistance, his tongue darting out to kitten lick your clit, relishing in the way you instantly melted underneath his touch. you were absolutely enraptured with the way he felt against your body, the cool of his hand tracing seemingly meaningless patterns against your silky inner thigh, his other sinking into your heat, enveloping his digits with warmth, something he rarely felt, his tongue licking and sucking on your bud like your life depended on it. it was all too much, the feeling of him on top of you, doting on you like you were everything to him and you came suddenly, pulsating around his fingers, your own carded in his hair to ground yourself, tears leaking out of your eyes at the sheer feeling of him, only him.

he slowly calmed you down from your high, eyes never leaving his body as his fingers gently continued to pump in and out of you, his other hand continuing to soothe your body, kisses placed anywhere he could reach. when you were finally calm, he removed his fingers, still cold despite the warmth the received, and licked them clean, watching as your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the sight of him worshipping you.

“let’s get you cleaned up and get some food in you, yeah?”

he spent the next few minutes gently wiping you off, dressing you back in most of your clothes sans the underwear he destroyed, a sheepish and apologetic smile on his face as he promised to buy you a new pair, no matter the price. you shrugged your jacket on over your shoulders, finally noticing how cold it was, a chill running straight to your core as you tightened clothing around you.

after a few moments of catching your breath, you stood up with the help of Daichi, walking over to the picnic and sitting down, mouth drooling at the sight of food, suddenly ravenous.

“were you really serious about saying yes, about being mine forever?”

“like i said Daichi, i do want to get to know you better, but i can’t deny i’m not falling in love with you. something about you feels familiar, like you’ve been with me my whole life, like you know me better than i know myself. i feel so comfortable and safe around you. so yes, call me a dumb romantic, but i was serious about that.”

with a satisfied nod, he began feeding you, watching you closely as you swallowed food after food, a delighted smile on your face. you felt stronger, more relaxed, less cold and certainly happier eating and drinking, taking the time to really talk to Daichi, learn about him, his thoughts and feelings, some of his tragic past and your heart hurt more and more as you listened to him.

when all was said and done, you stood up, wiping the crumbs off your body as looked at Daichi, a smile plastered on your face.

“when are you taking me home?” you questioned, looking around the field to see if you could spot anything else to do.

“well, my dear, whenever you’re ready, i’ll show you your new home right away. after all, what kind of king would i be if i didn’t let my queen see her palace right away?”

“what?” you questioned, looking at him quizzically. 

when he stood up, you noticed the whole mood had shifted and so did the world. the flowers, as bright and beautiful as they were, were no longer illuminated by a brilliant sun but rather a striking moon, darkness encircling your very body. you felt cold and yet not cold at all, like it was a very part of your being. Daichi seemed to stand immortally tall before you, an air of authority that was not there before. beautiful houses scattered the flowerbeds, people milling about, people from stories you had read to soothe yourself to sleep as you dreamt of one day being a hero of your own.

“Daichi, what is going on?” you asked, frightened and confused.

“well, doll, i did ask you several times to make sure but i knew in my heart that you would come to accept and eventually love this life as i have,” he started, gesturing for you to turn around to look out behind you, a whole world opening up in front of your eyes, “this is the underworld, i am Hades, you’re currently in the Elysian Fields, now that you ate the food down here, you are an immortal part of me and this, my queen, is your new home.” 

[marvelousstevetony]

Hi! Maybe this one, from thst sleeping prompt list if you’re feeling inspired?: laying on their lover’s chest, listening to their heartbeat, drawing circles on their chest. the stevetony vibes are strong 🥺💖 Ty!

Hi, friend! I truly love every single prompt on that list, but this one is just extra cute for Steve and Tony! I’ve been so busy these last few weeks, and I have a few prompts in my inbox that I should’ve been writing, but I saw this and couldn’t help myself. 

I hope you enjoy this short fic of Steve being miserable when Tony’s out of town, and then really, really happy when he comes back unexpectedly. I love these two so much, I really do💖💖

-----------

It’s not that Steve can’t sleep without Tony next to him. He’s perfectly capable of being by himself at night, of lying alone in their ridiculously large bed, closing his eyes and slip off into a peaceful unconsciousness. Perfectly capable.

The thing is, though, that Steve would rather just… not be alone. He can sleep without Tony, of course he can, but that doesn’t mean he wants to.

And now Tony has been gone for almost an entire week for some stupid conference that Steve highly doubts is necessary, and Steve has been pouting about it ever since his plane took off.

Steve gets it, okay? He knows Tony has work to do, because Tony loves his work and he wouldn’t be the same person without it. Steve would never discourage Tony from working, and Tony’s passion and ambition are some of his most attractive traits, Steve thinks.

But if work could just stay in New York, Steve would be very thankful.

Yes, because with work being in New York that would mean that Tony wouldn’t have to travel around the world all the time, which would subsequently mean that Steve wouldn’t have to crawl under the cold covers at night all by himself.

Which is exactly what is happening tonight.

Steve shivers as he pulls the blankets closer around him. Usually, he would curl up around Tony, basking in the warmth and affection Tony radiates, gliding his hand under the Tony’s t-shirt and letting it rest on his stomach as he kisses Tony’s shoulder.

Tony would chuckle and guide Steve’s head to rest on his chest, placing a peck in the dirty blonde locks and sighing contently before murmuring a quiet goodnight, sweetheart and closing his eyes.

God. Steve sighs into his pillow. What he wouldn’t do to have Tony next to him right now. He tosses and turns, hugs the pillow close to his chest as if it were a certain genius, but it’s too soft and too cold, and after a couple minutes of lying restlessly, Steve groans and hurl the pillow through the air like a projectile. It hit the floor with a soft thud and Steve frowns at it like he had hurt it.

Getting to his feet, he grips the pillow and smooths it over, sighing to himself once again. It’s not the pillow’s fault he can’t sleep. No, the problem is…

Okay, so maybe Steve has a small problem sleeping without Tony. But how can he not? He has gotten so used to having Tony beside him that anything else just feels wrong.

The feel of Tony, his scent, his breathing pattern, the way his fingers usually draw circles on Steve’s back, Steve misses all of it.

He had been alright the first few nights. The smell of Tony’s shampoo had still been lingering on his pillow, but it has faded since, and even Steve’s enhanced senses can’t pick up on the light peppermint notes. Just the thought of the scent sends a pang through Steve’s chest, and he has to swallow hard to choke back an involuntary sob. Maybe if he takes a shower and uses Tony shampoo he will feel a little better.

So that’s what he does.

He turns on the shower spray and adjusts the temperature before getting undressed. By the time he’s stepped in, the room has already gone misty and humid, and Steve can now just barely make out his blurry features in the mirror.

The water is scalding hot, just like Steve wants it in this instant. It prickles his skin and makes it tingle in an almost numbing way that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. After a few moments, he has gotten used to the burn and raises the temperature again, letting another wave of senselessness wash over him.

He pours the shampoo into his palm and starts massaging his scalp. He tries to do it how Tony does it, but it’s not the same. His fingers feel too big and he can’t apply the correct amount of pressure. At least he has the scent, and when he closes his eyes, he tries to imagine Tony being beside him, but all it does is leave a bitter taste in his mouth. He knows Tony isn’t there.

Despite the room being filled with steam from the shower, Steve still feels cold when he steps out onto the bathroom floor. The tiles feel icy under his feet, and he gives a quick shiver as he wraps a towel around his hips.

With his hand he clears the condensation from a small part of the mirror to look at himself. His hair is floppy and his cheeks are flushed from the shower which is how he usually looks after a shower. But then there’s this small crease between his eyebrows that has grown deeper as the week went on, and he runs the tip of his index finger over it to smooth it out. He hadn’t even really noticed how the tension had settled right there, not until now at least, and he forces his face to relax a little.

His eyes seem different, too. They look hollow in the same way Steve feels, like he hadn’t slept for days on end, which, to be completely honest, isn’t too far off. A little watery from exhaustion and with a purplish circle around them, making them look dull.

Okay, so maybe Steve really doesn’t do too well when Tony’s not there.

Sighing, Steve once again wishes that Tony could be there, in the Tower in New York with Steve, if not forever then just now. Just tonight when the time apart has become too much for Steve, when the loneliness starts nagging at him and keeping him from sleeping, when everything begins to feel so cold.

Steve shivers again, then quickly dries off and goes back into the bedroom to put his pajamas back on. His sits down onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He stay still like that for a little while. There are thoughts running through his head, so many thoughts, but they’re unclear and too fast for his mind to keep up with them, and it’s all just noise that becomes louder and louder until Steve wants to scream.

He almost does scream, but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is just a pitiful sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a sob. He can feel the warmth prickling behind his eyes, and he presses the heels of his hands into both eyes to keep them shut until the tears will back down.

And then comes the sound of the door opening.

Steve’s head snaps up with such force it feels like a whiplash, but Steve doesn’t care, because there’s Tony. Tony is right there in front of him where he shouldn’t actually be right now. Well, no, he should be there, Steve thinks and ignores the voice that tells him that he’s selfish and greedy for wanting Tony to let go of everything in his hands to be there with Steve.

“T-Tony,” Steve croaks, voice almost a whisper.

Tony smiles and puts down his briefcase. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says and joins Steve on the bed.

“You’re back.” Steve is still working on believing that Tony really is there, so he reaches out to touch Tony’s cheek and feels his breath catch slightly when his cold fingers greet Tony’s warm skin.

Tony lays his hand on top of the one Steve has on his cheeks, then kisses the inside of his palm. “I’m back,” he confirms. “Everything went smoothly so they told us we could get off a couple days early.”

And now Steve really can’t help the tears that are threatening to fall from his eyes. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep somewhat composed, but his body slumps against Tony’s and he looks at Tony with tired, blue eyes that are more telling of how Steve is feeling than any sentence could be.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Tony murmurs. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, because Tony’s knows Steve.

Steve doesn’t try to deny it either, there is really no point in doing so. Instead he leans in to brush his lips over Tony’s, the touch light but electrifying. “Missed you,” he mumbles against Tony’s mouth.

“I missed you, too, darling. Get in bed, I’ll be back in two minutes, okay? Just going to change and then I’ll come to bed.”

Steve nods and gives the brunette another quick kiss before getting settled under the covers. The two minutes he’s waiting feel like an eternity, but then Tony steps out from the ensuite, wearing nothing but his pajama pants, and pads towards the bed, and Steve just feels grateful. So grateful.

Crawling under the covers, Tony scoots closer to Steve, pressing his body against him. Steve is quick to position his head on top of Tony bare chest, cheek resting right under his collarbone, and he sighs contently when Tony nuzzles his face into his freshly washed hair.

“You’ve been using my shampoo, have you?” Tony asks with a fond smile playing on his lips.

“I, uh… I couldn’t sleep so I just… I thought maybe it would help me feel like you were here,” Steve says, a little embarrassed.

“I’m here now.”

He is, Steve thinks as he lets his eyes slip shut. Right where he’s supposed to be.

As they lie there, Steve draws small circles on Tony’s chest, around the place the arc reactor once was. It had been there when they’d first started sleeping together, and Steve loved resting his hand on top of it, feeling the weak warmth it emitted against his palm. Now, though, he traces the scar with his fingers.

It used to make this soft whirring sound, too, that Steve listened to at night. A slight hum that assured Steve that Tony was there next to him, that everything was alright. Now there’s another sound that Steve loves even more, because it’s purely Tony, proof that’s he’s alive. Tony’s heartbeat might be Steve’s favorite sound, he realizes. It’s soft and reassuringly steady, a rhythm Steve could listen to all day.

That’s another thing Steve misses whenever Tony’s away. When he’s alone, it’s all so quiet. The silence becomes deafening, it becomes insufferable, the noises in Steve’s head filling every void. But with Tony, whether it’s the arc reactor whirring or his heart beating, Steve can focus on the calming sounds and let every inch of worry evaporate.

And now, with his head resting on Tony’s chest, listening to the slow thumping, Steve feels his body relax and his eyelids grow heavier with each passing second. It doesn’t take long before his breath evens out and the line between his brows has disappeared completely.

Casting one last glance down at the sleeping soldier, Tony smiles fondly and kisses Steve’s forehead before closing his own eyes and drifting off.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

[cockasinthebird]

could i request uhhh billy enjoying watching steve masturbate? he loves to watch as steve fingers himself. as he fucks himself with abandon on a long hard dildo. as he’s breathless humping mommy and daddy’s expensive furniture like a bitch in heat. billy could come in his pants at the sight of it.

Dear anon,  This request is old as fuck, holy shit, and if you’re still around, thank you for your patience hahaha

I’ve been working on the fic for a long long time, and while it’s not entirely done, I have decided to separate it into three parts, and two of them are ready to be posted, the third one I just started on a few weeks ago, and I don’t know when it’ll be finished, but here, the first part, for your enjoyment!

-

The first time Billy got the awe-inspiring pleasure of watching Steve touch himself to completion they’d been dating for a few months, when all the animalistic rivalry reached a fever point and they wound up grinding against one another behind the school after having thrown a few punches.

Not exactly something either of them had planned, least of all Billy, whose punishment for such things in the past was moving from California to this shithole town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. They spent close to a year hating each other before they found time to have an actual honest conversation about, well, whatever it is that’s going on here.

It’s a late July evening, Billy is “spending the night with his girlfriend,” if Neil were to ask, but he doesn’t even think of either his abusive asshole of a father, or the prospects of even finding a girlfriend, as he sits in one end of the large sofa, dressed in a pair of blue shorts he’s borrowed from Steve, in the 93 degree heat.

At the other end lies Steve fucking Harrington himself, dressed in a pair of tighty whities, head lulled against the armrest, one leg hanging off the edge of the couch, and the other caught between the backrest and Billy’s own leg; waxed and tan pressed against hairy and pale.

Steve loves to cuddle - borderline obsessed with it if you were to ask Billy, but the reigning Keg King is more than willing to give in to his Princess’ constant need for physical affection and reassurance, although tonight is a whole different story.

For while Billy is used to heat, grew up with the scorching sun, the burning asphalt, 97 degrees, Steve’s spent most of his summers in Indiana, where on average the heat might reach the 70s, so this? This is hell.

“No, don't touch me!” he had protested when Billy showed up earlier and dived right in to kiss him. “I’m fucking burning up!”

Their shins touching, forming an X between them, is the most contact Steve has offered up all day, and the least since they started doing… whatever it is they’re doing.

Empty cans of soda and a few beers litter the coffee table, Cheers plays on the biggest TV Billy’s ever seen, the audience laughing loudly, but he only notices how Steve huffs and chuckles at whatever is happening in the bar, not that Billy’s actually paying any attention to the show.

Rather he’s staring at Steve, head turned towards the screen but eyes caught in the way Steve’s fingers run through that little patch of hair he has on his chest. Then it moves down, smoothly caressing his abs in a pattern that’s all too familiar to Billy’s own touch; the same route he travels when his own calloused fingers gets to move across that pale, soft flesh, circling around the moles on his way southbound, past the navel to where his treasure trail starts.

Dark hairs that guide any lucky admirer to their most coveted final destination, and tonight it seems only the subject of Billy’s desires himself gets to brush his fingers through it all.

As the tips of Steve’s fingers near the elastic border of his underwear, Billy feels his heart beat faster, letting fire loose through his veins, yet Steve pulls away again, up through the coarse hair to where it starts just below his navel, then down again. Is he aware of what this is doing to Billy? Does he know he’s being watched this way? Leered at?

Every time those fingers go down, Billy’s pulse goes up.

And when Steve knocks their legs together, Billy looks up to catch the other staring right back, one corner of those soft, pink lips pulled up into a lazy smirk.

“Hi,” Steve whispers as he meets with those blue, attentive eyes.

“Hey,” is all Billy can muster.

“What are you doing?” a question that doesn’t really need an answer, clearly rhetorical as the way Steve coos it out proves he knows.

But Billy obliges with a, “Enjoying the view,” anyways.

“Oh yeah?” Now Steve moves his hand further, stays on top of the fabric, chaste in the gentle way he grazes the length of his flaccid cock.

Billy licks his lips and opens to take a shaking breath as he feels himself twitch at the sight of how Steve teases. “Yeah.”

Fingers go from gentle to firm as Steve palms at himself through the white fabric, his erection growing quickly both under his own touch and the persistent, unblinking stare that Billy offers up. Steve’s breathing turns ragged and he bites down on his lip in the most enticing manner that makes Billy shuffle around on his end. 

Who reaches down to adjust himself in the borrowed shorts, his fat cock tenting something so beautifully, ensuring that Steve sees how hard he is, eyes glued to the motion of the other’s hand running along the clear bulge in those tight trunks.

Steve’s exhales grow into moans, letting slip slight “ah”s and “mmh”s, his gaze jumping back and forth from Billy’s steely cock and those oceans of pure lust staring back.

“Take them off,” Billy whispers, yet his voice carries louder than the laughter on the tv.

“Hmm?” Steve hums and slows down his hand to pay better attention.

“Take off your underwear. I wanna see you,” Billy growls out and pulls away his own hand in resistance of the urge to finish all too soon.

Steve smiles a bit wider at the way Billy demands for him to get undressed completely, but doesn’t hesitate to stand up and do just that. Drops his white trunks to the floor and stays upright, blocking the tv a bit, one hand finding its way to wrap itself around his prick as it stands at full attention where he runs his thumb over the leaking head.

Billy runs his hand up Steve’s hairy thigh till he reaches the hip and rests his palm there, heavy and hot and sweaty.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby,” he breathes out in clear astonishment, mesmerized by the way Steve slowly moves his hand along his flushed dick. “Now go sit down again. Over there.” 

Again Steve doesn’t speak - doesn’t question it, simply does as told and sits down so far away that neither of them can reach without stretching out their legs, his hand never pausing the lackadaisical stroking of his aching flesh.

“Spread your legs for me.” Billy rests his head against his fist, elbow on the back of the couch, his other hand down to keep itself busy with the string of the shorts.

Steve brings one leg onto the sofa again, pressed against Billy’s shin, forming the same position he held earlier with the other foot still on the ground, and he slips down just a bit to expose himself.

But it’s not good enough.

“Wider,” Billy says with a voice oh so stern and controlling, but with his tongue out to play along his lips, eyes dark and sultry.

And Steve does just that; scoots further down till he’s lying with his head on the armrest, then swings one leg over the back of the expensive sofa, expertly spreading himself out in front of Billy, putting everything on display. 

“Like this?” he asks, low and teasing, fingers still pleasantly drifting along his lengthy cock.

“Yeah,” Billy moans in appreciation of everything being served just for him. “Like that, pretty boy. God you look amazing.”

“Oh?” Steve cocks a brow, feigning ignorance, as if he doesn’t know exactly how incredible he looks. “You like watching me?”

His hand moves faster, gripping and pulling at every single inch of hard flesh, bringing out the most wonderfully lascivious sounds, clearly revelling in the attention of his King.

“Mmh, fuck yes,” Billy grunts out, bites at his lower lip and digs his nails into the fabric of the couch to keep himself still. “I love watching you. At practice, in the showers, in class, when you sleep.”

Steve lets escape a light huff of a laugh at that. “When I sleep?”

“Yeah, when you’re at peace, resting all blissful ‘n shit, mouth just slightly open, looking so soft. I just want to… disturb you. Fuck you out of it, finger you awake, start your day off full of my big dick.”

And the way Steve whines at that thought makes it near impossible for Billy to remain dormant. 

“Fuck, Billy-” His hand moves faster, erratic in a way that loses all that teasing control he held seconds ago. “I… I wouldn’t mind that…” voice quivers with unadulterated lust.

Billy catches his tongue in a wicked grin, eyes lidded and heavy in a way he knows lights Steve on fire. “You want that? Want me to fuck you when you’re still all hazy from sleep? Wake you up with my fat cock?”

“A-ah, yes,” Steve whimpers before throwing his head back, dark locks sticking to his sweaty forehead, mouth wide open to stutter out in pleasure. With no sense of proper rhythm, he fists himself with fervor and a little, “Fuh-ck…”

“Shit, Stevie…” whispers Billy with a voice thick from wanton.

Absentmindedly he unties the shorts and digs his thumb underneath the waistband of it. He feels an ache most primal, a deep and fiery urge to get off, to touch his leaking cock and finish himself to the incredible sight of how sweaty Steve is; moaning out and thrusting into his own hand. Billy’s left leg starts bouncing impatiently from where his foot is planted on the floor. 

Steve lifts up his head, leans it against the backrest and looks down at the dark spot staining the blue fabric of his shorts, biting his lip at the sight of how big Billy is. So he moves closer, further down the couch till he’s flat on his back, legs spread like an open invitation for Billy to just… do whatever he pleases.

Billy gives in at that and brings a hand to his throbbing erection, squeezing around the girthy shaft and massages the head with his palm; the sparks that shoot from his touch like a lighter trying to ignite.

“You’re such a fucking tease, princess,” he growls out, hoarse from self restraint.

He wants to indulge in what Steve is longing for, wants to fuck him wild till he’s sore - till he can’t sit right or walk straight, fuck him like he deserves to be fucked, hard and rough, soft if he asks nice enough, but above all that, he wants to watch how Steve fulfils his own needs. Wants to watch him lose sanity, chase his own high, jerk off like he does when Billy isn’t around to suck him clean.

“Billy, mmh- fuck,” Steve coos out and brings up a hand to push away his hair, as if to allow Billy a better view of how lost he is, brows knit and raised high, eyes squeezed tight in par with his hand grasping at his weeping cock. “I’m- I’m so close-”

And Billy knows this is a view reserved only for him. That no one else on all of planet earth has gotten to see this - not Nancy, not Tommy, not any other boy or girl Steve has been fucking around with. That this requires trust, that Steve trusts him enough to be this vulnerable.

Each moan that echoes with his name throughout the mansion sends ripples across the whirlpool of heat that threatens to spill over, Steve’s voice so full of crude little curses and gasps and Billy, Billy, Billy, that he no longer can resist the powerful temptations and he pulls down his shorts just far enough so that he can get a proper grip on his painfully hard prick.

“Doing so good for me, baby, arrh, shit, wanna watch you cum, make a mess of yourself.” He stares keenly at how Steve’s glistening thighs tense up, how his abs twitch and chest stutters.

“Yes, ahh, fuck- fuck!” Steve reaches up to hold on to the armrest for dear life, back arching beautifully, toes curling as he cums in a breathless feat, streams of white shooting up to his chest as he empties out with quick strokes.

Billy is close behind, the show more than enough to get him there, accompanied only with a few urgent flicks of his hand before he's spilling wet and hot onto his abs, groaning out as he tightens his grip to ride out his orgasm with a rough pull or two. 

Steve stays still, his chest heaving the only sign of life from him, and Billy smiles, soft and unseen, as he looks at the well worn-out, pale form before him. 

"You alive?" he chuckles. 

"Yeah, just… It's just so fucking hot…" Steve complains and fans himself with the hand that isn't dripping with his own semen. 

Billy hums pleasantly, lazy and satiated, "It's not that bad once you get used to it." 

Steve simply huffs out something defiant and searches for his underwear that's been tossed on the floor, then wipes his hand, chest and stomach as clean as he can with very little effort. 

"Here," he says and tosses the trunks to Billy, suggesting that he use them for the same purpose. "Don't ruin my shorts, they're my best pair." 

And Steve watches as Billy carefully wipes away the lesser mess he made, the white fabric well soaked by now. Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as if Steve can read Billy's mind what with how wide his eyes go, yet he doesn't protest as Billy brings the briefs up to sniff them. 

"You're so gross!" Steve smiles wide and gives Billy's leg a light kick. 

Who guffaws loudly before tossing the trunks away to land with a humorous splat. 

"You want another beer?" 

"Always." 

[kiraakirana]

a place to start - h. kakashi

It has been a few days since the construction next to Y/N's house started. Day and night was filled with hammering sounds, and to make it worse, it was right next to her bed. As a result, she couldn't sleep for days. Kakashi, who had been one of her longest friend, noticed how restless she was because she couldn't perform up to her usual standard during missions.

"What's up with you these days?" he asked while sitting down next to her.

"I haven't slept in days. The construction next to my house continues even at night, damn it," she replied groggily, resting her dizzy head against the tree trunk.

It was a few minutes before Kakashi opened his mouth to speak again but this time, he said something truly out of character, "Want to stay by my place?"

Y/N slowly processed his words and turned his head to look at him questionably, eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, it's okay if you don't want to. It's just that you have low iron or something right? It could take a toll on the success of the mission if you're sick."

Y/N bursted out laughing, hearing Kakashi trying to explain himself while scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "You know, that was so out of character. You're such a private person so this is kind of new. Anyways, thanks, Kakashi. I'd drop by your place tonight."

-

So that was how Y/N end up on Kakashi's bed while he lied on the couch. It had been an hour since she laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling because no matter how tight she close her eyes, she couldn't put her mind at ease. She saw Kakashi reading his book and sat up. "Kakashi, why don't you just sleep next to me?"

"Huh?"

"Sleep next to me," she said, patting the empty space next to her, "I feel kind of bad if I sleep here and you on the couch. I'm not a messy sleeper, so you don't have to worry about being knocked over," she grins, tucking her messy hair behind her ears.

"Are you sure about that? I'm fine with being here, you know. I usually don't sleep anyway."

Noticing how Kakashi seemed set on his decision of not moving, Y/N walked to him and linked her arm to his, dragging him to the bed. "If I'm with you, you have to sleep. You're going to die from your lack of sleep someday if you keep doing that."

"Is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Y/N said, laughing a little. Kakashi chuckled and ended up sitting next to her, a book on his hand as she drifted off to sleep. When Y/N woke up an hour later to check on Kakashi, she saw him sleeping peacefully. Not used to seeing Kakashi like this, Y/N smiled to herself. She knew Kakashi suffers from insomia due to everything that happened in his past. She can't help but worry about him most of the time, despite knowing how much of an excellent shinobi he is. Therefore she was glad to see him in such tranquility, it's the least she could do.

-

It was around 2 in the morning when Y/N heard Kakashi's heavy and irregular breathing. He was sitting up straight with his hand covering his face. "Kakashi, what happened?" she asked worriedly as she sat facing him.

"Sorry," he whispered weakly, "I woke you up, didn't I?"

Y/N has lost all her rationality and didn't think about it when she pulled him in for a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. She ran her fingers through his white hair soothingly, "Shh, nevermind that." She pulled him closer so that they could share her body warmth since she noticed how cold he was, "It's okay, now. I'm here," she calmly said.

She knew it had to be one of his mental breakdown from a nightmare he must've had. She knew from the longest time that Kakashi was always suppressing his emotions. In a way, they're the same. They both had no one to confide into. She knew how lonely that feeling is, so now that she's here, she didn't want Kakashi to feel go through that alone. She often wished that she has someone by her side during her nervous breakdown, therefore she wanted to be there for Kakashi.

She also knew loneliness is hard to erase, especially if you had been so used to it. But if her presence could make even the slightest difference in his life, then she's willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long.

She felt Kakashi shivering so she started drawing small circles on his back to calm him down. Once she felt that he had regained his regular breathing, she pulled him away as she stared into his eyes and unmasked face, hands resting on his shoulder.

She started caressing the scar below his eye and gave him a smile. "Kakashi, please know that you're not alone. I will always be with you when you need me, you don't have to shoulder your pain alone, you know. I'm willing to share it with you.

And your past, we both know we can't change them. They make us who we are. In other words, past is bittersweet. But despite everything, despite what your past may be, I'll accept you for who you are. Because the present you has become very important to me," she took a deep breath as she studied his face which he kept hidden from everyone. "And more than everything in the world, I don't want to lose you. So, thank you, for surviving until now."

The next thing she did was something done unconsciously and without much thinking about the consequences it may bring. She rested both of her palms on Kakashi's cheeks and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on the scar below his left eye.

Realizing what she had done, she dropped her hand and hung her head embarrassedly, "I'm sorry." It was also an effort to hide her blushing cheeks because she was feeling hot all over. Has she lost her mind? What on earth was she thinking?

Kakashi suddenly grabbed her hand and brought her closer. There was almost no space between them. Her heart was beating like crazy. She was afraid that he could hear the loud beatings because then he would know how much she's in a disarray right now.

Kakashi looked at her eyes in a way he had never before. There was a hint of gratefulness and determination in his eyes before they dropped to her lips. He leaned in and kissed them slowly but immediately pulled away as he wasn't sure if she wanted it or not.

Y/N who felt her knees went weak, was sure she could turn into a puddle of water at any given minute. She turned her head away, trying to hide the rosy tint of her cheeks. Kakashi dropped his head on her shoulder and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Surprised because he seemed to misunderstand, Y/N grabbed his shoulders and brought her hands to his cheeks before pulling him in for another kiss. This one to reassure him, that she too, felt the same way. For a very long time now, to be honest. But it was today that she finally came into peace with how she was feeling, no longer in denial about it and no longer trying to refuse it.

It was another short kiss. She was nervous and she wasn't exactly experienced on kissing. Kakashi on the other hand, was a very experienced kisser. He knew exactly how to put butterflies in her stomach (an in other areas as well, lol jk).

They pulled away for a second. Registering everything that had happened. Deciding that they both want more since those two short kisses don't seem to pay for the amount of years that they've both spent liking each other in secret, Kakashi leaned in and once he's close enough, Kakashi whispered, "Thank you, Y/N," before kissing her again. This one is long and passionate. She swore to God she could feel Kakashi saying 'I love you' against her lips. Damn, her head's in a frenzy and she felt her entire body heating up.

Still feeling very shy, once they pulled away from each other, Y/N buried her head in the crook of Kakashi's neck. She was a blushing mess. What she didn't know was Kakashi also has the same tint on his cheeks. They both ended up laughing while still embracing each other. Praying to God or whoever it is above to stop the time for a while.

She didn't know what she has done to earn herself a very precious person. Kakashi who was always followed by the shadow of loneliness and thinking he's going to be alone for the rest of his life, questioned himself if he truly deserves such a goddess who loves him for everything that he is.

"I promise I'll always stay with you."

It was a place to start. For the both of them who finally found light in their darkness.

- A/N: I just watched a bit of Kakashi's backstory since I'm still on season 6 of Shippuden, but I can't imagine the pain he goes through at such a young age. I feel like despite Kakashi trying his best to discard his emotions, he'd still be really fragile and nothing comforts him more other than reassurance and appreciation (as much as he hates to admit it). He can be really soft when he finally lets his guard down with the person he trusts (and believe me it takes tons of years for this man to open up but once he does, he'd turn jelly around you and becomes a big puppy who just wants to cling around you) or in other words, turns into a completely different person who craves affection. Ok that's too long for an author note lol. bye guys.

oh and i found the picture on pinterest but i couldn’t find the artist so you can notify me if u know who the artist is and i’ll credit them!

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

[marmolady]

Back to School

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, hints of Quinchelle

Summary: Endless Ending. The Catalysts are heading back to school. Or, at least, most of them are. For Taylor, Hartfeld is a whole new beginning... but the past isn't done with her yet.

WARNINGS: Character death (flashbacks), self-harm.

Word Count: 6348

Chronology: After 'Homecoming' and 'Clarity'.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading

“Stay with me, okay? S-stay with me!” Taylor frantically tried to stem the bleeding with the shirt she’d taken off her own back, but it was already stained through. “I can’t… I can’t lose you too. Not you, Diego, please…. P-please…. Please….”

His breath rattled in his throat, strained and weak. “T-tell… tell Varyyn I’m… I… s-sorr--”

“No. No. You’ll tell him yourself, all right? You’ve got to hang on, Diego, please….”

Even as Taylor spoke, she could feel her friend’s fingers growing cold in hers. A distant yell sent a chill down her spine. The Arachnids were closing in. If she was going to get Diego to safety, she had to get him on his feet. Fast.

“...Tayl… you… f-find…” he croaked.

Taylor tried to meet his gaze and failed. He couldn’t see her there before him, though he was trying… he was trying so hard…. Until his eyes were still, searching no longer.

And she shrieked. She screamed into the night, knowing that she was good as sealing her own fate but not caring. How could she care anymore? She was alone. She collapsed into the blood-soaked chest of the best friend she’d ever had… and howled.

“Taylor!”

Woken by a shake, she kept on screaming, her body convulsing with violent sobs. Where was she?

Diego… Diego, no….

Estela cradled her face, stroking tenderly with gentle fingers. But all Taylor could see was a lingering vision of unseeing eyes. Of blood, and death, and….

“Shh-sh-sh-shh…, it’s over, amor. Everyone’s safe….”

Taylor tried to ground herself, to bring herself back, but she was swimming in anguish-- no, she was drowning.

“Diego!”

More urgently, Estela stroked Taylor’s face and hair. Her own eyes were sparkling. “Querida, he’s fine. He’s safe-- I swear he’s safe. Taylor-- Taylor? I need you to come back to me, baby….”

Something about the fear in that voice snapped Taylor to reality. Estela. Estela was holding her. They were… home.

The tears kept coming. Why? Why was she not allowed any fucking peace? She was broken… her head was broken….

She couldn’t stop howling, even as she was held. The blood could still be on her hands… she could feel it there….

“I… can’t… make it… stop…,” she whimpered. Her hands trembled as she lifted them; they tingled with the expectation of what should have been there but wasn’t. Why won’t it stop?  She raised a hand to her head and smacked herself with all the force she could muster.

“I… can’t… make it… STOP!” Taylor hollered, and she slammed her open palm to her head again and again, resisting Estela’s panicked grappling. “MAKE… IT… STOP!”

Then Estela managed to wrestle her way to Taylor’s hands. The grip was like iron, though Taylor kept on struggling.

“Taylor-- Taylor!”

“LET… ME… GO!”

“I’m sorry.… I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s okay that you’re overwhelmed and you’re scared, but you can’t… you can’t hurt yourself like that.”

“LET ME… let me….”

Taylor screamed and sobbed, but she stopped fighting at the sound of the pain in her wife’s voice, and let herself be cradled and gently rocked.

“Sh-shh-shh… I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“It’s too much…,” Taylor whimpered through her tears. “I--I can’t stand it anymore.”

“I know, mi amor. I know.” Shaking, Estela softly kissed her wife’s temple. “Will you be all right if I let go? I’m just going to grab you a tissue, okay?”

Just then, there was a loud rapping at the door, followed by Quinn’s voice.

“Can we come in? It’s me and Michelle… just a little worried about you guys.”

“Yeah… come in. And if you wanna help, we could use some tissues.”

At the sight of more friends, looking towards her in concern, Taylor cried all the harder, and very quickly she was being hugged by Quinn and Michelle… and Diego, who was also now wide awake and worried. Surrounded by friends’ arms and soothing words, she let her emotions flow forth until she had no tears left to cry.

With the risk of Taylor hurting herself diminished, Estela stepped away to get a hold of herself. “I’ll just get you a drink of water, cariña, okay?”

Taylor blew her nose noisily. “Actually, um, I might get up for a little while. If I try and go back to sleep now, I’m pretty sure it’s just gonna be nightmares all over again.” She shrunk into herself guiltily. This was not the ‘good night’s sleep before the first day of college’ that everyone had in mind. “And I don’t expect everyone to stay up just for me--”

“Oh, shut up, Taylor.” Michelle offered another tissue. “The sooner you let us help you, the sooner we can all get some sleep, all right?”

It turned out-- unsurprisingly, given the noise-- that the rest of the house had been woken by Taylor’s shrieking.

“So, uh… someone getting murdered up there?” Zahra quipped as the group descended the stairs.

Estela gave her a look, but turned her attention quickly back to Taylor. God, she was still shaking like a leaf… and then Estela realised that her wife wasn’t the only one.

Pull yourself together. For fuck’s sake.

If she was going to be any use at all, Estela knew she needed to sort herself out… and it felt like she was on the verge of breaking down sobbing. “I’ll… I’ll get you that drink, Taylor.”

Grabbing a glass from her wife’s bedside table, Estela retreated to the bathroom and collapsed over the basin with her head in her hands.

Taylor hadn’t hurt herself before. The way she’d hit herself over the head, as if determined to pound out a part of her she couldn’t stand… it struck Estela as hauntingly like the way she herself had lost immunity to her own fists in her frantic need to purge the poison. It hadn’t happened many times-- four?-- five at the most-- but Taylor was like a human sponge; it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that she’d been influenced by her wife’s response to trauma and taken it as her own. That was troubling.

Estela felt ill. Sick with guilt. Helpless.

So, when Raj popped his head around the door to offer a hug, she all but fell into his arms, all the bottled-up frustration bursting forth.

“I know it was stupid and naive,” she lamented against her friend’s chest, “but I really thought we’d cracked it.”

“I wouldn’t say you haven’t cracked it,” Raj said thoughtfully. “Taylor used to have these visions most nights, right? If this is the first time it’s happened since you guys moved in here, you must be on the right track… but even the right track’s gonna have a bump in the road here and there.”

“If she’s waking up screaming in the middle of the night, ‘the right track’ isn’t fucking good enough!” To her frustration, angry tears splashed down Estela’s cheeks. Crying wouldn’t do a damn thing to help Taylor. Roughly, she rubbed her face dry. She should have seen this coming; stepping foot into Hartfeld University as a student would be, for Taylor, incredibly significant. Estela had known Taylor was stressed leading up to the start of term. She should have done more….

“Yeah… I know. And it’s not fair at all-- after everything our girl was prepared to do for us, the least she deserves is a bit of peace at the end of it. So, we’re just gonna have to keep on taking good care of her. Like she always does for us. You know-- if relaxation is the key to Tayls’ good night sleep, I’m happy to give coaching….”

In spite of everything, Estela spluttered a laugh. “Raj, if Taylor ever wants to give the getting stoned route a try, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know about it. If I’m honest, some days I could probably use some of that shit myself.”

Raj grinned. “Even just the thought got a smile out of you-- that’s a win! But if a good hug is more your thing, I’m more than happy to deliver on that one too.”

Estela exhaled slowly, her eyes shut. She’d needed that hug… more than she’d known. Those disturbed nights punctuated by the anguished sobs of her poor wife crying out in her sleep, and it had been all Estela could do to stay calm enough to offer any kind of soothing comfort… they’d taken a heavy toll.

“I need to go back to her,” she said quietly.

“So, Tayls,” Craig had been asking, as if it was the most everyday thing in the world, “what’s the worst way I died? Gory details!”

“Craig!”

“I mean, we’re all curious, but come on!”

“What? You know what they say, ‘if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry’-- I mean, it’s not like any of those things are actually gonna happen now. There’s nothing to be scared of!”

Taylor’s mouth hung open. Actually… would that help? It wasn’t an approach she’d even considered. But as her mind flickered back to the vision of Diego dead in her arms… the feel of the weight of his body, she knew she couldn’t do it.

“I, um, I don’t think I’m ready. To laugh about these things. When I have these dreams it’s like… they’re fresh. New and visceral and vivid every time.  I… I can’t bounce back from that and just laugh. Maybe in like… a couple of weeks? That’s if it doesn’t happen again. But it’s like I’m living it. And when I wake up… all the shock, and dread… it’s all still there.”

Everyone was quiet. Taylor didn’t blame them. How the hell could anyone know what to do with this? Estela sat down beside her and offered the glass of water.

“Thanks, babe,” Taylor murmured. Her throat was parched and sore… she supposed screaming bloody murder could do that. She took a few sips, then let herself relax into the couch, and Estela’s and Diego’s arms around her.

“I think, “ she said, “I underestimated how nervous I was about starting tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen, but I guess it’s ‘cause I feel like… well, a bit of a fraud.”

Zahra scoffed. “Freaking pseudo-humans think they can muscle in on our school. Man, they’re letting that place go to shit.”

Taylor looked at her, taken off guard, then slowly… she started to laugh, until she was near doubled-over. Wheezing, she sat up and wiped away a tear. “Oh my god. It’s ridiculous!”

“Honestly?” Michelle said, “I think it’s going to be surreal. ‘Normal’ is going to be hard, after….” She shuddered, and Taylor knew where her mind had wandered to… the smoldering wreckage that was a past not another soul bar the twelve of them could ever comprehend.

Quinn hugged Michelle tightly. “That’s why we need to keep doing this. Sharing the burden. If we can survive the end of the world that way… well, that’ll be how we survive the aftermath as well.”

Regaining her breath, Taylor snuggled into Diego’s shoulder. She’d been the damsel in distress tonight, but come the next, it could be any one of her friends drowning in the enormity of what they’d survived. And she’d be there, offering a shoulder, as they’d done her. Taylor closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing; slow and deep into her belly. The horrors would fade, just as long as she could keep them at bay for long enough for them to do so.  It wasn’t as if she wasn’t well-used to the challenge; it had become almost routine until she’d thought she’d mastered it. Her friends had gathered around her, offering whatever comfort they could give, and that was the best hope she could ask for.

Raj sat bolt upright, clearly struck by inspiration. Always a worry.

“Guys! Gu-u-uuys!”

Taylor snorted an affectionate little laugh. “Raj! Ra-a-aaj! What’re you thinking?”

He jumped up and began moving furniture out the way.

“This is ominous….” Zahra muttered.

“Okay, doodlejumps, everyone one the floor! Sitting in a nice, wide circle.”

“Yup. I knew I had a bad feeling…. If this isn’t ‘pass the bong’, I’m out.”

Raj was undeterred, in spite of the scepticism shown by a chunk of the group. “Now, lie down, so that your head is resting on the belly of the dude or dudette to your right.”

“Er, okay,” Diego said, angling himself so that his head would fall to Taylor’s middle, “kinda weird, but why not?”

“Is everyone in positio--”

But Craig was already laughing; being sleep-deprived and tickled by the movements of Zahra’s diaphragm, he couldn’t help it if he tried. And Quinn with her head on his belly, found herself jiggled up and down in a most giggle-inducing manner.

“There you go-- you’re doing it!”

Bouncing up and down on Estela’s firm belly, Taylor laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Which made both Estela and Diego laugh more, which made her laugh more…. And so, Raj’s laughing circle worked its magic. It was simple, and silly, but actually… it worked. She was smiling so hard her jaw ached. The genius of Raj had struck again.

She laughed until…. “Okay, okay, I c-can’t breathe! Too much laughing!”

Taylor sat up clumsily, and a rosy-cheeked Estela put an arm around her once more, still giggling herself.

A rather uncharacteristically disheveled Michelle caught her breath long enough to give Raj a look of incredulation.

“I hate the fact that I feel so much better after that.” She collapsed against Quinn’s shoulder and shook her head. “I don’t even want to know how ridiculous we all looked just then…. The things I do for you people….”

“For what it’s worth,” Taylor said, “I appreciate it. More than I can say.”

It would be over an hour before everyone at last trundled along back to bed. An hour that Taylor’s loved ones had filled with chamomile tea, a giggly session of group yoga, a massage with soothing lotions from a talented Michelle, and many, many hugs. She even managed to snag a hug from Zahra; very brief and well out of sight of anyone else, but a hug nonetheless.

Taylor sunk into the mattress with a quiet moan, and curled her body into a ball, soon to have Estela’s wrapped lovingly around it. She was tired… so tired that the weight of her eyelids was painful. But she was relaxed, more-so than should have been possible after the horrific vision she endured, and with something as momentous as her first day as a student at Hartfeld lying ahead.

“Duerme ya, dulce bien; mi capullo de nardo,” Estela sang softly as her gentle fingers stroked Taylor’s hair.

Taylor closed her eyes, knowing nothing but the feel and sound of her wife. The surest thing she could ever trust in.

“Despacito duermete, como la abeja en la flor.

Duerme ya, dulce bien;

Duerme ya, dulce amor

Dulces sueños tendrás

al oir mi canción.”

And Taylor slept soundly, cocooned in love.

_________________________

As she pulled the van up into one of several car-parks on campus, Estela was struck by how right Michelle had been about it feeling surreal to be back in this place. The only reason she’d ended up there to begin with was because she’d intended to kidnap one Aleister Rourke and hold him hostage to gain access to his father. Circumstances had… definitely changed. That she was studying now wasn’t just a means to a probably violent end; it was to equip her to live a life fulfilling and true to who she was.

Her passengers piled out of the van; usually, those without a class first-thing would more than likely take a bus in later, but today felt significant.

“How are you feeling?” Estela checked in with Taylor, noting that she looked rather like someone on the verge of vomiting.

Taylor felt rather like she was on the verge of vomiting. She was a walking jumble of nerves. The smile she gave her wife was shaky. “It’s just… weird. Other than the Lernaean Gate experience, and I’m trying to keep that out of my mind, I’ve never stepped foot in this place. But I look over there, and I know that’s the Humanities building, and the best coffee shop on campus is around that corner, and if I were to bump into another Freshman, I could probably give them accurate directions to whatever lecture hall they were searching for. I know all that, and still… it’s new.”

“It’s okay,” Estela said gently, finding Taylor’s hand and squeezing it. “All the other new students are gonna be freaking out too. You’ll blend right in.”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” Taylor took a deep breath. This was nothing, nothing that she couldn’t handle. When she stepped back and looked at it logically, there was obviously no threat. All those months of building this up in her head sure had wreaked havoc on her. “What do you have up first? Was it the subject on discrimination and identities?” That sounds right.

Estela nodded. “Yep, that’s the one.” She had just the three classes on this first day; one each for Identity and Discrimination, Conflict Resolution and Peace Building, and Social Development. Having opted to change her major from Business Studies to Peace and Conflict Studies-- something that hadn’t even been an option when she began studying in San Trobida-- she was starting this school year as a Junior rather than a Senior.

She wasn’t alone-- Craig had also decided to change direction, now focusing his degree on Game Development. “Well, uh, that sounds… fun,” he said, grateful that Introduction to Computer Game Design would be his first lecture. It was something he’d wanted to try out back in his Freshman year, before he’d gotten swept up in the popularity that came with joining the football team. Now, his inner nerd wouldn’t be hidden in shame. “Anyways, I’ve got to go-- I actually don’t wanna miss this class. Weird. That’s like… never happened before.”

He shuffled off with Zahra, who rolled her eyes as she swung an arm around his shoulder.

Taylor pulled Estela into a kiss. All too brief, for they had company, and because that Identity and Discrimination lecture wouldn’t attend itself.

“You still on for coffee?” Quinn asked Taylor as the rest of the group broke off for lessons. “Grace says she’s on the way there now.”

With a tight hug goodbye, Taylor let Estela go off to her lecture, and joined Quinn in a brisk walk to the coffee shop.

As with much of the Hartfeld campus, the coffee shop felt as familiar as if Taylor had been there many times before. Rather than feeling odd, in this particular instance it added to the warm and comforting feel of the place…. It was like a hug from an old friend.

And the coffee itself….

“Actually, that’s a nice cappuccino!”

“Good enough that you’ll convince Estela to give it a go?” Grace asked, a twinkle in her eye. She knew well from experience that, as a rule, Estela found American coffee to taste-- to quote her directly-- ‘like ass’.

Taylor snickered. “I could get her to join us no problem, but I’d put money on her sticking to her flask of a superior Colombian brew.”

Whether it was a world-beating cup of coffee or not, it certainly fulfilled the job of giving Taylor the wake-up she needed. It was hard not to keep on apologising for being the cause of a disrupted night’s sleep, but she bit it back. There was no shame in not being okay. Soon enough, it would be someone else’s turn, and she sure as hell didn’t want anyone else beating themselves up the way she did. Estela had always been very quick to snap Taylor out of hypocritical thinking where guilt was concerned, and it was appreciated. So, Taylor just let herself enjoy a warm brew and the company of two of the best friends she could ask for as they pondered on this new year of college.

“Ooh!” Quinn cried suddenly. “You could try ‘Hartfeld Creates’; it’s basically a club for people who are into arts and crafts of all kinds-- well, basically, anything that you create yourself.”

That sounded all right. If she was going to ingratiate herself into the school community, starting with something Taylor already had an interest in wouldn’t hurt.

“Do they take bumbling beginner knitters like me, d’you think?”

“They do a big exhibition at the end of the school year; if I remember correctly from last time, there were definitely a few knitters showing off their work.” Quinn took another sip of her coffee, then looked up with a shy smile. “Actually,” she said, “I’d wanted to sign up, but commitments were always tough for me. I guess… there’s nothing to hold me back now.”

Grace returned the smile. “It sounds like a good excuse for me to really start diving in to fractal art. If you wanted, we could all sign up together.”

“I think I might really like that,” Taylor said, and she licked froth from her lips. Estela was missing out-- this was a good coffee. “At least I’ll know there’ll be two people who will say nice things about my lumpy knitting.”

She brought her mug upwards to chink with her two friends’.

“To new experiences!” she toasted, before hastily adding, “--of the low-key variety!” No more sea monsters for me, thank you.

Before Taylor knew it, the next of her new experiences had rolled around. She’d found her way to the lecture hall for Introductory Spanish without a sweat, as if she had a campus map pre-downloaded in her brain. It was weird, but she did turn up looking less frazzled than a few of her classmates, so it had its value. Taylor took a seat beside a mature-aged student, quietly relieved that not everyone in her first class was fresh out of high school. And, of course, being Taylor, she immediately made herself acquainted.

“Hi,” she said, offering a hand that was gratefully shaken, “I’m Taylor.”

The silver-haired woman returned a smile. “Lovely to meet you. Sue.”

“Is this your first class, too?”

“Not my first class-- I just came from a Molecular Biology lecture-- but it’s my first day, so still getting my head around how it all works. I did try college years back, but, you know… life happened. I can tell you it’s changed a lot since then!”

This was so much easier than Taylor had anticipated. Caught up in her own head, she found herself frequently falling into the trap of underestimating the qualities that had always best served her. She wasn’t just the glue that held the Catalysts together simply because she’d been created as a perfect match to their needs;  it was more than that. Taylor loved people. She was good at people. So long as she focused on her innate humanity and not the part of her that felt alien, she could find her confidence.

“So, Molecular Biology, and Introductory Spanish. That’s broad. I’m guessing you don’t have a major in mind yet? I’m the same.”

Sue chuckled. “Well, I’m not studying for anything in particular. No one strong direction. To be honest, I don’t have a great deal of interest in a career change. I work part-time from home, which suits me fine. Plenty of time for the grandkids. But I have always loved to learn. The way I see it, if I’m to broaden my horizons, I might as well cast a wide net.”

“Fair enough,” Taylor said. “There’s certainly the range here to do that. I found it a little intimidating to have so much choice. I vaguely know what direction I want to take, but really, until I give things a go….” She shrugged her shoulders. “What’s really going to grab me, I don’t know.”

“There’s something to be said for the fun being in the journey. I know I’ve always wanted a university education, and I’ve always wanted to travel. Both things are coming to fruition after more years than I care to count, but I wouldn’t trade any of the stops along the way for anything. That’s what inspired me to take Spanish-- Latin America is high on the list.”

“You should go off the beaten track and give San Trobida a try! It’s really beautiful.” Taylor suggested to an intrigued nod. “For me…. My wife’s Colombian-San Trobidan and my best friend’s Mexican by blood. I’m kinda curious about what they say to one other about me.” She smiled cheekily, had a momentary realisation of ‘oh, I’m not sure how LGBT-friendly this older stranger is’, then realised Sue hadn’t batted an eyelid, and continued. “No, we’re probably going to end up spending a lot of time in San Trobida; my wife’s only family is there.” Well, I guess that’s not even entirely true anymore. “A bit more Spanish will serve me well. Wifey’s teachings have mostly centred around curse words and romantic pet-names… neither of which are appropriate in all circumstances.”

Sue gave a short laugh. “It’s a useful language,” she said. “Widely used. And once you know a bit of Spanish, you find related languages start to make some sense as well. French is next on my list.”

And so, by the time the professor arranged his notes and set up the projector, Taylor had realised that she really needn’t have worried about a thing. She was a social butterfly; on La Huerta, or anywhere else. All she had to do was spread her wings.

_____________________

Estela’s morning had been uneventful. Her classes had basically been introductions to the respective courses; general overviews of what to expect in the coming weeks and months of study. This was just as well, because she found her mind wandering.

The previous night’s events had rattled her. So long it had been since Taylor had one of her horrific nighttime visions-- the last one had been back in San Trobida-- Estela had been caught off-guard. Once again, that helpless feeling was seemingly inescapable.

She sat down in the library and buried her head in her assigned Peace and Conflict textbook, trying to focus for long enough to string two sentences together.

It was just a freak thing because of all the build-up to starting college. Chances are, she’ll sleep like a baby tonight.

Babies sleep like shit.

Who came up with that dumbass idiom anyway? No one who ever met a goddamn baby….

Taylor had always been prone to vivid dreams; dreams that weren’t normal dreams. Actually, on La Huerta, Estela had experienced a few of those herself. But after Taylor released the part of Vaanu that resided in her, things changed. The memories gifted to her by the Endless took over all of Taylor’s dreams. Between the two of them, they’d managed to note patterns; flashes of violent scenes had-- without fail-- been in the wake of a period of stress, while a reduction of Taylor’s waking anxiety led to lighter scenes playing through her head at night. The key, they’d deducted, was to ensure she went to bed relaxed and happy. Estela couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid to think it was a phase that had passed; it had simply been a case of waiting for a significant enough stressor and --whoomp-- back to nightmare city. And once Taylor closed her eyes each night… there wasn’t a damn thing Estela could do to keep her safe from the cruelties of her own mind.

Estela glanced at the clock. It would be three-quarters-of-an-hour at least before Taylor was done with her second class. She should at least take a few notes while she waited.

Then a voice echoed out from behind one of the rows of shelves.

“.…I’m still not convinced scar-girl wasn’t somehow involved. Nine students disappear off the face of the earth and that creeper just happens to be with them? I’m not buying it.”

In an instant, Estela felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks, and her stomach drop. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected much different but… she’d hoped she could get through the first day without… without…. How could it not hurt? Pointedly, she kept looking down into her notes, though any remaining hope she might have had to actually focus on them had fled. Nine students? She didn’t even count; she was an ‘other’. As everyone had always seen her. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let anyone see that it gets to you.

“Oh my god-- right? I can’t believe they let her back here after what happened….”

Another voice cut through, sharp and comfortingly familiar.

“I’m sorry-- are you serious?” Michelle demanded.

“...We didn’t ask you!”

“I know, I know. You’re just too busy making up poisonous gossip about a person who you’re well aware has just survived a traumatic event. Classy!”

“What the fu--”

“I’m sure the dean would be interested in hearing all about your treatment of one of the Hartfeld Ten. Someone the rest of them owe their lives to several times over. Or, you know…. The both of you could just get out of here, and while you’re at it…. Get. A. Fucking. Life.”

There was some rude and clearly embarrassed muttering aimed in Michelle’s direction, the shuffling of feet, then quiet.

Estela realised she’d been holding her breath. Everything was different now. The sting was still real, but coming up behind it was something soothing. And she wasn’t the ‘other’ any longer; not in that moment.

“Michelle….”

And Michelle came around the corner, a look of horror across her face. “Oh, shit--you heard that?”

Estela offered a shaky smile. “It’s okay; I’ve heard worse.”

“It’s not okay! It’s not remotely-- They’re just… assholes. Self-absorbed, ignorant assholes.” Michelle was shaking with fury. And Estela found herself not surprised those students scarpered quickly as they did. “You would not believe how close I came to slapping those bitches just now--”

“No, I can guess. Thank you.”

“I used to be friends with people like that. Or… I thought they were my friends. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that now I’ve got the real thing.”

Michelle pulled off her shoulder-bag and sat down in the chair beside Estela.

“Are any of them still here?” she asked. “The people you used to know.”

“’Know’ is a strong word in hindsight,” Michelle commented dryly. “But, the vast majority graduated when I was meant to, or the year after. There are a couple of girls I was in the sorority with who were Freshmen at the time. I caught a ‘you saw Michelle Nguyen’s gay now?’ ‘thank god we saved poor Sean when we did-- he deserves so much better’.” She rolled her eyes.

Estela huffed. “Ignorant assholes,” she affirmed. She looked back down at her notes. “Too bad, though. So far up their own asses they missed out on knowing the most amazing friend a person could ask for. Sucks to be them.”

There was quiet, and noting the silence, Estela raised her eyes to see Michelle looking at her with the warmest, most appreciative of smiles. Somewhat shyly-- she’d not intended to stir up deep emotions-- Estela returned it.

Michelle glanced around, checking there was no one in earshot. “I was talking with Grace earlier; bringing her up to date on everything that went down last night,” she whispered.

Estela quirked an eyebrow. “Any words of wisdom there?” she asked with a soft sigh. “Anything at all, I’ll take it. Please.”

Sympathetic, Michelle reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm. “We’re going to look after each other. That’s the best wisdom I think any of us has to offer.”

It was hard to argue with that… but it didn’t feel like enough. Not when Taylor was still being wrenched back to the darkest of places, powerless make it end.

“We wanted to float an idea with the others,” Michelle continued, sensing Estela’s helplessness. “Maybe we could get together every month, every fortnight… whatever it might be, and all of us just… talk. Like therapy, but just us, because so much of what’s been the fucking hardest we can’t tell anyone else. I dunno… maybe Quinn will bring cupcakes or something….”

“That usually reels everyone in,” Estela noted, a smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t a bad idea. For herself, she’d looked at the idea of some kind of counselling, but it had come down to the fact that she’d only really want to do that with a therapist from San Trobida-- someone who understood where and what she’d come from. That was a tall order, even before the challenge of dodging around sensitive La Huerta business was considered. Obviously, everyone else would also need to get help in their own ways, but for some things, they had to be one another. “I think…. I think that might be a really good idea.”

_________________________

“See? You survived two whole classes!” Diego laughed, coming out of a lecture theatre beside Taylor. He’d made a point of choosing at least one best-friend-friendly elective, landing on ‘Gender, Sexuality and the Media’. If the first lecture was anything to go by, they were going to enjoy it. “All those nightmares for nothing.”

Taylor sighed dramatically. “All we’ve gotta do now is hope my brain gets with the programme. She can be tricky, that one.”

With a kind smile, Diego gently bumped shoulders with his friend. The night before had been eye-opening. Of course, Taylor had told him all about the ghastly visions she’d been haunted with, but to be present through the aftermath… it had slammed it home just what she’d been enduring. And he didn’t know she’d kept herself together as well as she did.

“Hey… it’s all gonna get better.” As Taylor met his eye, appreciative but unconvinced, explained. “The way I see it, you’re basically Stitch right now--”

“I’m gonna need you to spell this out for me,” Taylor said with a laugh.

“Ha. Trust me, it’ll all make sense. You know how Stitch had been made for only one purpose, and he felt kinda lost when all that was gone? That’s you.”

“I… guess….”

“Hear me out!”

“Always.”

“Well, when Vaanu left you, there was this big empty space left behind. And The Endless’ memories are basically you clinging to what your purpose always was-- to care for us all. It’s like Stitch; you don’t have your own memories to take up space, it’s just you and your purpose.”

Taylor stopped in her tracks. “Hang on. Is Estela my aggressive, lonely orphan Lilo?”

Diego sputtered a laugh. “I’d like to think Estela and I are both your Lilo. But what matters is that’s not going to last. All that empty space is going to fill up, day by day.”

“I… really wanna believe that.”

“I know.” He put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You know what else I think? I think the more you see that we’re all okay, the less you’re going to have that protective part of your brain setting off those nightmares as alarm bells to you. And for as long as it takes for you to be okay… I’m here for you. We all are.”

Taylor looked into his earnest face and saw only genuine love and care. And it broke her heart, because she couldn’t gaze into his warm, dark eyes and not see their light going out. A hard lump rose in her throat, choking her, and she buried her face against Diego’s neck, hugging him tight.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Really. Thanks.”

Finally pulling away from an embrace that had been so needed, Taylor and Diego hurried toward the green wooded area of campus where they’d arranged to meet Estela.

She was waiting for them by the fountain, her eyes lit with a smile at the sight of her beloved.

“Hola, mi angel!” she called out as they approached. “Te traje el almuerzo. Quieres encontrar un lugar?”

“Hahaha,” Taylor said sardonically, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly for good measure. “Yes, one lecture and I’m not fluent. Clearly university is money down the drain. Pfft.”

“Joder!”

“That, I understand.” She reached for Estela… the simple feel of her bringing her instantly home. “If we ever have an exam on curse words, you’ll have me on the trajectory for an A.”

What a relief it was to see Taylor happy, joking. Estela wrapped both her arms around her wife’s neck, and just held her. And when she finally released Taylor, it was only for her to move in once more to kiss her.

“Uh, guys? Are you going to do this after every block of classes? I might need you two to get a room.”

“Por favor! You love it. We all know you’re as invested in Taylor’s love life as you are your own.”

“Hey!” Diego exclaimed, hand to his heart as if mortally wounded. “A little rude, but true. But, I guess I can leave you lovebirds to it for a few minutes. Is it sad that I’m dying to see if they have anything new in the food court?”

And so, Estela and Taylor were left to wander a beautiful corner of the sprawling campus. Estela hooked her little finger in Taylor’s, and everything that had once made this world hostile melted to nothing. It was hard sometimes, not to feel like a round peg being forced through a square hole. Somehow, Taylor softened the world’s edges to her… and when she was near, Estela fit. Just as she was.

“Querida?” Estela looked at Taylor, and adored her. She could only hope that in her, Taylor found the same sense of belonging… the kind so strong that it defied all else.

“Mm?”

“I really love you.”

Taylor’s heart swelled. As it did every time she heard those words stated anew. Every time, it was a promise that for all the pain that still lingered, everything really would be all right.

“I really love you, too.”

[mirrerover]

High on the Fumes

“Straying a bit far from the nest, Dickiebird,” Jason says. He’s got one hand shoving his mask back up into his hood, revealing just his mouth and the sharp line of his jaw, while the other digs in the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing for cigarettes. A beaten-up carton gets waved in Dick’s general direction, offering a cigarette Dick never accepts. Not like this. Not in the Nightwing suit, at least.

They’re currently overlooking Crime Alley, seated on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off the side. Jason hadn’t seemed surprised when Dick had dropped down next to him on the ledge. But Red Hood wouldn’t be Red Hood if Jason didn’t know the coming and goings of the various vigilantes creeping on Gotham's rooftops at night.

“Ran out of bad guys my side of the pond,” Dick says in the easy way he says lots of things. The patented Grayson charm. “What can I say—I’m just that good.”

That actually pulls a laugh out of Jason. A genuine one. One that has his mouth stretched apart in a smile that makes Dick think beautiful.

“No criminals in Blüdhaven. I knew moonlighting as a police officer would be bad for you. Six months on the job and they’ve already got you on their payroll.”

“Thought you’d be proud of me for lasting as long as I did.”

“Sure thing, Princess.” There’s a fancy Zippo in his hand now, one Dick has never seen before, lighting the first cigarette of plenty to come. Dick wonders if Jason lifted it off some crook he left for dead. “You probably broke some departmental records. Most Blüdhaven cops are on the take before they’ve even stepped off Academy grounds.”

Dick chuckles the way you chuckle when watching your own house burn down to ashes, all your mortal possessions still inside. Blüdhaven is a corrupt cesspool with no fast and easy fix. Maybe not even a slow and difficult one—and she’s all Dick's. He stuffs the thought somewhere deep and hidden and eagerly shifts his eyes to Jason so he can forget. Just for a while.

It’s hard to read Jason’s face, hidden in the shadows of his hood, but the body language is clear; no apparent stiffness or major sore spots. Jason looks relaxed, if not a little tired, fingers nimble when they lift the cigarette to his lips. So the bloodstains aren’t his own.

“Slow night?”

Jason shrugs. “Petty criminals, mostly.” His lips tighten into a harsh line. “Some creep who thought he could set up shop and play pimp. Fuck that. My girls work for themselves.”

His girls. And that, Dick thinks, is the difference between Bruce and Jason. Bruce has his villains, his meta humans, and when that well runs dry there’s the League. A galaxy full of nemeses for him to fight.  Big players and even bigger stakes. Abstract concepts of freedom and peace, and the liberty of dealing in absolutes. Jason has his people. The concrete reality of kids not being cornered by predators and sex workers keeping money in their own pockets. And his people love him. Prefer the Red Hood taking an iron pipe to the face of their abusive ex-husband, their kid’s drug dealer, or the rapist next-door, to the untouchable Bat Symbol high up in the sky.

Maybe Dick’s been staring too hard or maybe Jason can tell he’s thinking of Bruce because the next time he speaks, he’s extra crass: “I need a cock so far up my ass I’ll be seeing stars, a good meal, and a shower with better water pressure than the usual geriatric-taking-their-midnight-piss nonsense that’s rife this side of the city.” He sucks long and hard on the cigarette, posture thoughtful, before releasing the smoke in a slow exhale. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Dick snorts. Maybe there’s more than just the one big difference. “That really something you wanna yell off the rooftops? Thought you were some big bad crime lord.”

“The fuck's that s'posed to mean, Big Bird?” Some might assume that toting around eight severed heads in a duffle bag once would make it hard to take the moral high ground on anything. Dick knows for a fact that Jason doesn’t really give a shit about either morals or the high ground but it doesn’t stop him from taking both and making them his bitch. “Think I’m weak for taking it up the ass? How ‘bout you dial back on the homophobia, you bigoted prick.”

It might be more impressive if Dick was a little less familiar with Jason and his rage. Jason doesn’t settle his actual grievances with his words. This is foreplay.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Little Wing. Got the best thighs this side of the equator. Ain’t nobody calling you weak, babe.”

“Don’t you forget it, asshole.”

Dick hums, lowering himself onto his back, arms stretched high above his head. There’s a weird serenity to being verbally abused by Jason as the Eastern sky is starting to brighten. The sound from the street feels distant and Jason feels so close, their thighs mere inches apart. When Dick lets his head rest on his arm, Jason’s broad shoulders fill up half his vision and he knows if he buries his nose between his shoulder blades it’ll smell of leather and smoke and sweat.

Jason twists his torso towards him. “Were you even listening, Fingerstripes? Just told you I want a cock up my ass before the night is through. Need me to grab a pen and a piece of paper and spell it out for you?” Jason gives a depreciating grunt. “And Daddy dares to say that you’re the smart one.”

“Jesus, Hood,” Dick teases. “Can’t tell if you’re trying to go for seductive or insulting.”

“Shows how shit your instincts are. I’m doing both. You turned on yet?”

Dick shrugs good-naturedly, arches his back and gives Jason the Grayson smile, blinding, crooked, winning. “Little bit.”

There’s another laugh, another smile. Another beautiful in Dick’s head. Then Jason’s lying down beside him, shoulders brushing, and voice bleeding a warm: “thought you would be, you big slut.”

When Jason finishes his cigarette he kills what’s left of it on the concrete. Wordlessly lights another. The new Zippo burns big and bright.

Dick lowers one arm, carefully drags his fingers across the busted knuckles of the hand holding the lighter. Sometimes, those hands will leave red streaks on Dick’s skin and Dick won’t know if the person it came from is still a person at all. And he thinks Jason painting him with blood should probably bother him more than it does. But it’s hard sometimes, between the night job and the day job and the things he sees during both. Between Bruce, who puts principles before people, and Jason, who puts people before Bruce, is Dick, who doesn’t want to choose between either, who wants to have both—but let’s Jason mark him up with the blood from Gotham’s criminals, anyway. So, maybe he’s made his choice.

"Make me a coffee tomorrow morning," Dick says, Jason's hand warm beneath his own. "With those fancy beans. From that specialty shop where they roast and grind the beans on the spot and you watch them like a hawk 'cause you're both anal and a snob."

"Just the coffee?"

"Just the coffee."

"You're one cheap fucking lay, Boy Blunder."

“Only for you,” Dick says. "The Bat family discount.” Dick wonders if there’s a little something special in those cigarettes when that doesn’t get him punted off the roof immediately. The vicious elbow stab to the gut seems rather mellow.

“Asshole,” Jason murmurs under his breath. The vitriol dripping off that single word makes Dick honest-to-God giggle, chest feeling light like flying.    

He thinks they’ll stay here a little longer. Maybe one or two more cigarettes—all Jason. Dick will smoke after. After the sex, and the shower and the sleeping and the coffee. Long after the morning is gone. When Dick has been stripped of his suit for hours and Jason the same for his mask and guns. Then Dick will sit naked in the afternoon sun on Jason’s windowsill, grab that Zippo and smoke.

One cigarette. Just then.

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

@wethatake I wrote a thing. Can you believe it? I sure can’t

[potterbite]

a green-eyed monster

jealous eddie, bisexual buck and love declarations. on ao3.

“Who’s that?” Eddie glares, looking over at where Buck is helping a guy with a quick bandage. Does the guy really have to smile that wide and talk so much? And why is Buck even entertaining him to begin with?

“Who?” Hen asks distractedly; she’s packing up her bag, the rest of the team already done with all of the patients that needed their help so they’re just waiting for Buck to finish up. 

“That guy!” Eddie points with his entire arm. “Flirting with Buck. What’s his problem?”

This catches Hen’s attention and she pauses with her hands still in the bag to look over at Buck. A smile slowly forms on her face.

“Doesn’t seem to be a problem at all, Eddie.” She claps friendly on his shoulder. “Buck is flirting back.”

“Who’s flirting back?” comes Chimney’s voice as he rounds the ambulance to where they’re standing. 

“Buck and his last patient are flirting and Eddie’s bothered by it.”

He doesn’t see the look that Hen and Chimney exchange. 

“I am not,” he grumbles and heads over to the truck instead. 

Less than ten minutes later, the team is on their way back, all together. For some reason, Chimney and Hen asked some of the other guys to drive the ambulance back. Eddie didn’t hear the reason why, which seems weird as they’re just completely silent now.

Whatever. 

“You know, you shouldn’t lead a guy on when it’s never gonna happen,” Eddie mutters when he can’t take it any longer. 

Buck frowns, looking from Chim, to Hen, to Eddie. “What?”

“That guy, with the bandage. He flirted with you, so you shouldn’t flirt back.”

Buck looks stunned for a beat, nobody else speaking. Then he swallows. 

“Let me get this straight.” Chim sniggers, but Eddie chooses to ignore that. “I’m not allowed to flirt when someone attractive likes me and gives me their number?”

“You - well, no, you’re not. You don’t even like men.”

“Yes I do.”

The quiet inside the truck grows, or maybe it’s just in Eddie’s head because nobody else seems thrown by this information. Not even a little bit. 

He keeps his gaze on Buck. “Since when?”

Buck raises both eyebrows. “Since always. It just so happens that women are usually more flirty to me on the job than men tend to be.” Another deep frown. “Is it a problem for you that I like both men and women?”

Eddie splutters. “Of course it isn’t!”

“Then why - ?”

“I’m just shocked since you’ve never said anything!”

“Well, you’ve never asked.”

“I didn’t know I had to ask my best friend for that information!”

Buck ignores that. “So are you bothered by the fact that I flirted with a guy that asked me out or that I didn’t tell you I like guys to begin with? I’m confused.”

Eddie huffs. He really doesn’t want to discuss this anymore with the rest of the team looking on as if it’s some soap opera.

“Never mind.”

Everyone is silent for the rest of the drive back and Eddie turns his head to the street outside. 

---

Buck ignores him for the rest of their shift, but since Eddie is also pretty darned annoyed he doesn’t really mind. Not much anyway. He can’t believe his best friend for almost four years never told him he was into both men and women. That seems like pretty vital information, isn’t it? Maybe Eddie could’ve set Buck up with some nice guy.

Okay, no. That idea makes Eddie nauseous with jealousy. Like from a best friend perspective, in a very platonic way. 

But it still gnaws at him, so much that Chris complains about him being distracted two days later. So even though it’s his day off, he drops his son off at his abuela. He has just come back home and sunken deep into the sofa when words Ana Flores told him months ago pops into his mind. One of the last things she said before they parted ways, actually.

I just think you need to figure out who you love and be honest with yourself about it. Promise me.

It didn’t make sense to Eddie at the time, but now he bolts back up as his brain somehow chooses this opportunity to make the connection between those words and Buck. 

Well shit. 

He’s in his car within five minutes.

---

Buck looks unamused when he opens his front door and sees Eddie standing there, holding up a six pack of beers. 

“I come in peace.”

Buck rolls his eyes in response but steps aside to let Eddie in, walking together to the kitchen where Buck grabs the bottle opener from a drawer. 

“I’m still not sure what happened the other day,” Buck says as he takes a sip from his beer. Eddie, however, takes multiple gulps; he has no idea how to have this conversation. At all. 

“I just didn’t like the look of him, that’s all,” he says dumbly after a short pause. 

The younger man just stares at him, as if he knows he’s full of shit. Which he is. Then Buck takes a deep breath. “Right now, I think you’re another homophobic ass and I’m kind of horrified I’ve been friends with you for so long and not known this.”

Eddie almost chokes on the beer he just drank. “No, no, no, that’s not it at all.”

“Then you need to tell me what it was about.” Buck captures his gaze and refuses to let go, looking stern. “Now.”

Eddie swallows. “Well, to tell you the truth, I was jealous!” His voice comes out higher than intended, but it’s just the two of them there so he doesn’t bother lowering it. It feels good to shout.

Buck looks confused, adorably so, but still raises his voice to match Eddie’s. “What?! Why would you be jealous? You are making no sense right now!”

“I don’t know how else to put it!”

“Then we might as well be speaking different languages!”

They keep looking at each other for several minutes until Eddie ultimately cracks first, not able to resist those eyes any longer. The pleading in them.

“What if I’m in love with you?!” he blurts loudly, the words out of his control, his mind not even caught up with what’s happening. 

Buck looks stunned, mouth gaping for a few seconds before he closes it with a snap. Another beat, then he yells, “That’s good, because I’m in love with you too!”

“Fine!” he shouts, and drags a hand through his own hair. “Can I kiss you then?!”

Finally, Buck grins, fast and dangerous. “Thought you’d never ask,” he replies in a low voice, almost like a purr.

They meet in the middle, lips crashing together hard as Buck’s arms sneak around his waist, one hand going up the back of his shirt, palm flat against warm skin. Eddie has one hand resting firmly on Buck’s neck, and as he moves his fingers to find a pulse, Buck groans. Eddie swallows the sound greedily.

If he could spend the rest of his days here in a dimly lit kitchen with Buck, the taste of beer on both their tongues, no sound except their own breathing, he’s pretty sure he’d be perfectly happy.

But as they do have to breathe properly at some point, they break apart after what feels like forever and just stare at each other, panting.  

“I never would’ve guessed you to be the jealous type,” Buck finally says. “But thank God for that.”

Eddie smiles, feeling giddy. “Who knew?” He takes one of Buck’s hands in his own. “Sleep?” 

Buck nods, and they start to head up the stairs together. But then he remembers something and stops abruptly in the middle, turning to face the other man. “But to be clear, I really need you to delete that man’s phone number.”

Buck laughs. “Consider it done.”

[nctzendreamz]

off the table — lee taeyong

genre: angst w/ hints of fluff.

warnings: language, mentions of drug abuse, and mental illness.

featuring: nct members + chan and felix from stray kids.

authors note: taeyong was perfect for this in my head. also, thank you ariana grande.

is love completely off the table?

will I ever love the same way again? will I ever love somebody like the way I did you?

it had been almost a year. almost a year since he had heard your laugh. you know, the one only he was capable of getting out of you. it was gentle, yet so vibrant that it could color even the most plain and unpleasant rooms. he had seen you do it a million times, but his favorite work of art of yours was the one you did on his heart.

obviously, he couldn’t see what the inside of him looked like. but he could feel it. before he met you, he was certain everything was pitch black. to be specific, the darkest shade of the night sky one could possible fathom. so much pain resided in him. some he brought to himself, some he did nothing to earn. regardless, it was there, and as anybody with demons did, he found coping methods.

that’s how he met you, actually. holed up a strip club he had no business being in. one, because there was no one here he truly wanted. he would never admit it outloud, but the thought of love warmed him. not much, but it did. more than silly one night stands that have soul ties no one wanted to keep.

you were clearly out of place in the building filled with the scent of marijuana and flashing lights, although it did perfectly consume your complexion in the most beautiful way. he observed you for what felt like hours, just admiring you. he had no idea he would want to do this for the rest of his life.

it didn’t take much liquid courage for him to approach you. he could sense your fear when his slender fingers touched your exposed shoulder. for some reason though, the minute your eyes locked it was as if you were looking at someone you had known for a million lifetimes. or maybe that was just Taeyong’s point of view. maybe, everything was all an illusion. meeting you. falling in love with you. you falling in love with him.

“it’s been awhile.” a voice snaps Taeyong out of his deep thinking. the minute his concentration breaks does his surroundings suddenly blast into the center of his cortex. the volume increases. he is in the real world again. he isn’t high, yet.

“yeah.” is all he can spit out. all of the different coversations he could hear take place all of a sudden was making him extremely frustrated and unable to form coherent thoughts. or maybe he wanted it that way so he wouldn’t have to think about you.

you loved coming here. he hated coming here. but he loved you, and your favorite thing to say to him was, “when you love someone, you do things you hate. just like me sitting and watching you smoke for hours without stopping.”

he never realized how much you hated his distractions.

the here, was a restaurant that resembled a sports bar back where you are from. the food was less Korean and more greasy chicken tenders. and you really admired their honey mustard. it was kind of ridiculous how much you loved this place. it was always crowded. the smell was odd - a mixture of people who can’t seem to do anything but drink beer and yell, and foreigners who hated living in Korea. this was the only taste of home they got, so they took advantage of it.

did you feel that way too?

he doesn’t know. and he doesn’t want to think about it. some soccer game was on. people were cheering. he was just waiting on his to-go order.

“how have you been?” the familiar woman asks behind the counter. she was definitely in her mid-50’s. he assumed. she always would be here when Taeyong was dragged along, and she was always nice. who wouldn’t be with all the money you gave to this place.

“i’ve been fine.”

taeyong feels a little cheery conversating with another human. if it wasn’t his dealer, there wasn’t anything to say if he was being quite honest. his relationship with his family died out a long time ago. the only person that he could talk to was himself. the guys who were constantly down in the basement at his dealer were cool, but they never really got him. they thought he was weird, violent. only you cared enough to see how sweet he was. to paint him.

“good to hear. you tell your lover that i miss them!”

his heart, still colored from the mention of you, breaks. it had broken many times from your presence on this earth being acknowledged. everytime his chest would explode into his stomach.

he couldn’t say anything.

he simply walks out the place, not caring about manners. he just wants to go home. he doesn’t even like these fucking chicken tenders, but he’s going to go home and eat them. in your honor.

“excuse me.” a voice exclaims as he finally makes it outside.

once again, words don’t leave his mouth. the woman was probably lost. he truthfully didn’t care. he didn’t care about anything anymore.

“sorry,” she begins. her hair is almost a white color. it’s clearly dyed, but she might have been naturally a darker shade of blonde since the coloring seemed too perfect. “i just...i’ve been watching you - wait, that sounds incredible creepy—“

no one could compare to you, but she reminded him of you. you always did this when you were nervous, or had a severe lack of sleep. you would say things you considered to be silly. fumble with your words. and you would always ruin it more by acknowledging it.

but he was never irritated. he thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world. you were the cutest thing in the entire world.

even now, he’s okay. maybe because he was reminded of you, he can appreciate the art.

“you’re really cute.” she finally spits out.

he couldn’t respond, for the third time today.

why was this so hard? it has almost been a fucking year. a year without you. a year without touching you.

yet, no one could ever compare. not the blonde woman standing in front of him. not the sky. not the stupid bar. even his drugs seemed lackluster to the high you gave him whenever you told him you loved him.

he walks away. he needs something. something to make him unable to think for the rest of the night.

never thought you’d be so damn hard to replace. i swear I don’t mean to be this way, if I can’t have you? is love completely off the table?

“y/n? you there?” you feel vibrations from snapping on your face from the man sitting beside you. he snapped three times, to be exact.

“yeah! yes.” you quickly correct, adjusting your posture along with it.

“i know you appreciate the arts, but that painting is nothing to stare at.”

the painting chan was referring to, seemed plain to a simple eye. it simply, was a black square. but you saw worlds in it. you saw him.

“you know christopher,” you cooed, giving his slim cheek a quick sqeeze before continuing, “just because something seems boring to the naked eye, doesn’t mean it actually is. sometimes, a simple work of art such as that lame black square can hold a thousand meanings.”

he smile is radiant. honestly, the neon colored walls in the movie theater couldn’t compare to it no matter how hard it tried. lately, you had been trying to predict what he would say when you tried to be somewhat of substance around him. you were truthfully scared of boring him.

maybe you saw yourself in the black square as well.

“you really find it interesting, love?”

his accent - God his accent. it had an effect on you that truthfully wasn’t healthy, but even so you always felt guilty when your heart would papilate as it touched your eardrums. but why? you were single. you were moving on.

you can’t even look at him anymore, so you settle on the painting once more. now that you think about it, it was kind of scary that it was in a movie theater. maybe chan was on to something - what was its purpose? to simply cause you pain? to make you think about things and people you could no longer have? a person who is the worst possible thing for your growth, but the best food for your pitiful, lonely soul?

“never mind, you’re right.” you stand promptly, suddenly wanting to get as far away from the evil on the wall. it didn’t matter how chilly it was outside.

“woah.” chan chases after you. you’re too quick though. you’ve practically swam through the crowd to escape into fresh air. what is wrong with you?

it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself at his car. his pride and joy by the way, in which he never let anyone else ride in yet. he had been saving for so long to get it. you didn’t know the model, all you knew was that it made loud noises when he wanted it to. the car was originally white, but the two of you agreed that it was the worse possible color for a car, so he got a paint job and now it was as black as a dark hole.

the stars are beaming, and it’s odd. you used to love nights like this. you preferred the day time, but it was something about a light in the dark, such as the moon that pulled you in. it always destroyed you in the end though.

“what did I do?” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“huh?” you wizzle in confusion, not understanding why he believed he had done anything but gave you a peaceful night not lost in your thoughts.

his eyes tell you everything you need to know before his mouth does. he isn’t questioning your ever changing emotions and happiness to hear satisfaction from your mouth - to boost his ego. he truly feels as if he’s ruined any chance he’s had with you simply from being himself. even so, as he waits for you to answer he’s taking his bomber jacket off for you to wear. he was sweet like that.

“chris, you are always perfect. why would you think anything different?” you say as you put the jacket on.

he’s holding back a smile, but you can tell it’s more so from your proper word choice, and not what you said.

“you trying to sound English?”

“no.” you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’m just trying to communicate with you.”

“then tell the truth.” he prompts, taking a step closer to you.

“can I lean on the car?”

“yes.” he laughs in a low tone. “you can lean on the car.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

silence is filling the air, and it’s making you sick even though it shouldn’t be.

“y/n.” he finally speaks. you decide you have the balls to look at him even though it feels so wrong. the stars - they’re sparkling right into his eyes and you know you are the dumbest idiot on earth.

why can’t you just choose him?

the question is repeating over and over in your head, but no answer comes. well, no answer you want to hear comes. this should’ve been easy money. the perfect guy, with a good family and solid morals is madly in love with you. he’s still here, even when you barely give him anything to work with, and you’re thinking about others who were nothing close to that no matter how they made you feel.

“my confession ruined everything, didn’t it?”

it was about two months ago that chan confessed his love for you. you laughed a bit, as it made no sense. the two of you had been in the same circle for awhile, and you had been notified of his appreciation for you long ago, but he had seen you break. he watched you go from happy soul to broken and he still liked you? in what world?

you enjoyed his company. that’s why you began to hang out with him practically everyday - doing whatever you two wanted. most of the time you two just watched movies, or played silly board games. but sometimes you would go shopping, or he would play you his music he worked on. you could tell he lacked confidence on what he could become, but you knew he had the potential to be so great.

his confession was short and sweet. and the way he approached you, you could tell he was somewhat confident that you would feel the same. you did feel the same, but you also still had feelings for others. when you declined his request to take things to the next level, he didn’t get upset. or at the least he didn’t show it.

he promised the two of you would move at your pace. and that was all you needed to hear to know that maybe one day, when you got yourself together, the two of you could be something.

chan always protected you. you never felt endangered, or unsafe when you were with him. to you, he was sweet, to others he was still sweet, but he knew when to be stern.

“no. i promise.” is all you answer. “it’s cold.” here you go again trying to change the subject. this wasn’t like you.

he promptly unlocks the door to his car, opening it for you as well. it isn’t long before he’s on the drivers side turning on the car so you could feel some heat on your body.

“i won’t bring it up anymore.” he sighs.

“no chris. you bring it up everytime you feel it. i like you, okay? i do. i know I’ve never said it out loud before, but I do. i just...i don’t know what I’m doing right now. there are some things I have to get over you know?”

you can tell the amount of words you used - probably the most you had spoken to him in months shocked him, and made him feel extremely guilty. you know he didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to pressure you. all he wanted to have was something. something that made him feel as special as he knew you had made others feel in the past.

“y/n I’m a fucking idiot. God, don’t listen to me. you are perfect okay? we are working at your pace and we always will. i - fuck.” his face goes directly in his hands.

it’s cute - the way he cares about his every move around you so deeply. you remember what it felt like to feel like that. it was the most nerve wracking, yet butterfly giving thing to experience when around someone you admired so much.

“chris...” you whisper, removing his face from his palms. he had the softest hands ever. “hey, don’t beat yourself up okay? i know what you want and I know you have nothing but the purest intentions. if I didn’t feel that way I wouldn’t want to spend everyday with you okay? whatever you think this is, it is. i promise.”

“okay.” he sighs the biggest breath of relief you had heard in a long time. “okay. i know what we need.” he offers. your hand lingered on his, and he decided it would be best to hold yours as the opportunity presented itself. it’s nice - the warmness. yet, it feels incredibly wrong.

you truly didn’t mean to be this way. you would do anything to not be this way.

“let’s go cop something from felix. hm?”

what chan was reffering to was the good ole’ mean green, weed. you smoked a lot more in the past than you did now, but you were still no angel. especially tonight did getting high sound like the best decision you could have made.

“yes please.” you say without hesitation, leaning back in the seat. your left hand is still in chan’s right, and you don’t plan on letting go. felix’s house isn’t that far from here, so you know your pleasure will be coming sooner or later. chan starts the car and begins the journey. usually, the two of you drive with music on, but tonight the silence was what the both of you wanted.

secretly though, chan snuck his AirPod into his left ear. he loved music, but he could tell you weren’t in the mood. and he didn’t mind that. he would do anything for you. the lyrics resonated with his with his soul so much that he felt it ache, even though he felt he had no right.

i’ll wait for you

even if I always feel like I’ll be number two

to someone you can’t hold anymore

taeyong can’t even recall how long he had been pent up here, high as hell. intoxicated as fuck. the chicken tender meal he brought had been long gone, but not from his mouth. the junkies smelt food, and took food like the animals they claimed to be.

this all sucked so bad. he hated being here. but he couldn’t move.

it was so loud in here. the boys he knew - johnny, mark, and jaehyun were all present. they seemed to be the leaders of the basement and they also seemed to be functioning quite well considering how high they also were. taeyong couldn’t fathom or make out what their conversation were, but he assumed it was about girls. he caught, “they’re supposed to be here any minute now.” from jaehyun’s lip. he seemed to be the strongest ladies man. all taeyong knew, was that he wanted no parts of the drug induced orgy he knew was going to take place. he also knew if he didn’t leave, they didn’t care. they were going to give a show regardless.

“taeyong!” johnny yells, bringing him back to focus. johnny was always very intimidating. he wore a smile when he got what he wanted, but if he spoke to you and you didn’t listen, he quickly got upset. maybe he was different when he was sober, but that was never.

“what’s up.” taeyong answers dryly, still not looking at him.

“you know,” johnny sits down in the dirty floor right beside him. “you’ve never been fun, but you were more fun before than you are now.”

“i went through this phase.” mark interrupts, taking the seat on taeyong’s opposite side. “what is it? mommy issues? a girl? or a boy? if you get spicy like that.” he chuckles. he coughs right after.

“how about everything. except the last part.” taeyong whispers.

“oh...you have it rough. was your mom a druggie too?”

“no - well, I don’t know. i met her like once when I was younger. she told me ‘i did it for your good’ and left.”

“so you were in a foster home? or did you get adopted?”

“foster home. neglected, so now I’m like this.” he chuckles. he’s laughing, but in reality to admit these things out loud hurt, even though he was sure the other boys had similar or worse stories.

“and the girl?” mark asks. he had began to roll up another blunt in the midst of taeyong’s life story. maybe it was too much for him. or maybe he was just an addict.

“i cheated. and i was mean. she was the best thing ever though. she got me clean.”

“for what? a day?” johnny laughs outloud.

“well, not clean clean.” he explains. “but off the hard stuck like coke, and lsd and shit. we both smoked weed. and I smoked cigs.”

“ew!” the two of them exclaim. “cigs?”

“so you’re telling me that the two of you do every drug under the sun, but cigarettes are where you draw the line?”

“duh!”

“have you seen all the commercials? with the person with the hole in their throat sounding like the old shriveled lady from spongebob going ‘chocolate!’ we don’t want that!”

“cigarettes aren’t the only thing that can cause that, you know?”

“whatever.” johnny shivers as if he had just gotten the worse news ever. “so this girl wasn’t a druggie? why did she even like you?”

“i don’t know. still to this day I don’t know. but she did. and she tried everything to make me happy. it just felt too good to be true, so I ruined it.”

“damn bro.” mark sighs, taking a deep puff of his blunt. “i thought people only did stupid shit like that in the movies or tv shows.”

“hey hey now, markie.” a voice speaks out of the corner. “be nice to our new friend.”

it’s jaehyun. funny enough, jaehyun tried to get at you once long before you met taeyong, but you had no interest in him once you found out his issues. then again, while he was attracted to you, he didn’t want you to love him. he just wanted to corrupt you.

“our boy is broken hearted. seems to me like he just needs some fun.”

“relax, jae.” johnny explains. “he’s not there yet. let him fall for us on his time.”

“what are you on right now?” jaehyun inspects.

“just a couple of blunts.”

“so just a starter?”

“hyung...” mark sighs.

“okay okay. fine. but when the heartbreak starts to kick in more, i got something that’ll change your life. you just let me know.”

“he will.” johnny and mark say once again in unison.

“boys!” a voice yells. it makes everyone stand up minus taeyong, as he had no idea who it was. he can hear feet coming down the steps. there’s a boy with blonde hair. the same boy who let him in. he was a new face, but clearly an important one from the way even jaehyun was waiting for his comment.

“hi felix!” everyone begins to repeat after eachother.

his voice is deep as he speaks, and his accent is thick. his face itself may have not been scary, but the way he carried himself was.

“clean up this fucking mess. i know you can’t do anything about the shitty couches, but make an attempt. i got some good people coming over and I need quiet. when I bring them down here to show them the product, i need everyone on their best behavior.”

“what exactly does that mean?” taeyong speaks. maybe he shouldn’t have, because everyone is looking at him as if he just called the president a bitch to his face or something.

“you’re new here.” felix explains as he finishes his strut down the stairs. he can be seen more clearly now, and his outfit reminds taeyong of someone you knew. he couldn’t remember his name, but it was chan or something. “well, new to me.”

“and?”

“and...” felix crouches to his level. “im the boss. and all of you do what I say. my brother ran this like a crackhouse. i want us to make some real money, therefore you all will be getting cleaned up. there will be people coming in and out, looking at what we have, so try not to act like the druggie you are. thanks.”

“yes sir.” taeyong says, although he has no intentions of respecting this felix cat.

the doorbell rings promptly. the house wasn’t so big that they wouldn’t be able to hear. clearly this felix had plans to change that, but for now he had to settle.

“that’ll be them. look like friends so they won’t be scared. they’re not like us. or, what you will be.”

with that he leaves. everyone is silent as they want to know who exactly is this person. they all expected some rich man with a million connections to be at the door. they hear one voice - an accent is present. he’s laughing, and they hear the sound of them dapping up.

“friend.” the voice says. they must have not seen each other in a long while. “what’s up? how have you been?”

“oh, I’ve never been better.” felix says. “and y/n.”

the sound of your name makes taeyong’s heart stop in his chest. what the? how could you of all people be here? you hated drugs. this was clearly a trap house. this is where taeyong would go to get everything you wanted, but you always refused to go with him. what male had you here?

jaehyun is smiling as he recognizes your name too. taeyong can’t notice though as he is genuinely about to have a panic attack.

“come downstairs will you? since chan told me it was a special occasion, I decided I’d let you two take a look.”

“felix...are you running a trap house?” you joke, not realizing how true your words were.

“not at all, sweets.” he relaxes you. “i just have good shit from my brother that needs to be sold. this is our little secret though.”

“we know.” chan answers for you. “snitches get stitches.”

“and end up in ditches.” felix finishes. “there are people down here, but they’re just chilling. don’t be scared.”

the three of you make your way down to the basement. jaehyun is the first face you recognize. you feel sick, but he didn’t phase you that much.

the black haired boy though, sandwiched between two other guys, makes your trip and fall on the disgusting floor.

it’s him. it’s really him.

why? all you wanted to do was have fun. all you wanted to do was forget him.

you can see in his eyes does he want to explode. but this was his fault. this was all his fault.

to be continued...