#i promised i would start taking care of myself better and fixing my sleep schedule

[codecicle]

dear fucking god charlie slimecicle's character formula has ruined me once again. it's 4:15 am as im writing this and my body is litterally vibrating I can't stop thinking about peter fucking sqloint he's so me coded fr fr <3 <3

[angie-long-legs]

Tw mental health and sexual stuff and sappy shit

This is a weird confession to make, but I really want to talk about it with somebody, and I feel like you are the least likely person to judge me in all of hell, heaven and earth, so hear it goes.

A couple of months ago, I was at a really low point in my life. It started years ago, it ended around February. I was really, really depressed. I was not taking care of myself, I was not eating well, I was neglecting hygiene. I had reached the point where I wouldn't get out of bed not even to bathe and my skin had started to rot. I was just on my phone all day to distract myself or crying.

And at some point, I got lucky, and I woke up one day, and it was one of the good days. I wasn't okay, but I didn't feel like I wanted to die, so I managed to talk myself into dragging my ass to the shower. And I don't know why I did that, I don't know what urged me to do that at that time, but I started touching myself sensually.

I have never done that before, because I had grown up in a Mormon household, that taught me sex is only for reproduction, it's only between a man and a woman, and I should only let my husband touch me after I get married. So it was my first time ever m@sturbating. And it was nice.

I finished my shower and I felt okayish. I didn't feel exhausted as if I had just finished a chore, which is how I felt in the past after doing literally anything. And a couple of days later, I hopped in the shower again, because I wanted to do it again. And I did. And it was nice.

And I started holding this sensual satisfaction as a bargaining chip over my head, in order to convince myself to go take a shower. And I started feeling lighter and more proper because I was sort of taking care of myself. And that encouraged me to do other self-care practices. Started brushing my teeth again, fixed my sleep schedule, I started eating better. I started getting better in general.

And now I'm a lot better. I have some bad days, but for the most part I can be a functioning member of society. But I feel terribly guilty every time I think about how I'm doing better, because I feel like I cheated. I feel like I somehow found an easy way out of depression. And it feels unfair that I just discovered something and I was all good when there's people killing themselves left and right everyday.

I even left the Mormon church after realizing that tons of the stuff I had been taught there were contributing negatively to my mental health, and I feel guilty for that too sometimes.

That's all. I guess I just wanted to rant about this to someone, and I felt most comfortable talking about it with you. Thanks for listening.

It appeared Angel had been promoted to bartender for the evening - at least, that was the role he felt as though he was undertaking as the stranger shared such an intimate story of theirs. Hearing about other's sexual affairs was nothing new to him, but being confessed to about something so... inconsequential? So every-day, and yet clearly so meaningful to them? It took him back almost a century to his own religious upbringing and the impact it had: the profound shame, the deep-seated self-hatred that festered within him.

"Y'know," he started, tone softer than was typical for him, "It ain't cheatin' ta find somethin' that makes ya wanna get outta bed in the mornin'. An' even if it was, so fuckin' what?! Everyone's lookin' fa some kinda cheat code ta make life less fuckin' miserable, an' you found yours. Use it."

Some people think they've found their cheat code - Angel included. Addiction often disguised itself as such, promising a lighter existence, distraction, euphoria. But the finer points of this stranger's tool for coping were lost when it came to Angel's pick of poison. Drugs fostered no motivation for self care, no happiness that came without the devastating crash of the comedown, the desperation for another fix that nothing else would satisfy.

For this stranger to have found something that made them feel good while simultaneously improving their wellbeing? Angel only hoped he would someday find such a thing.

"Besides, sex is fun!" he shrugged, offering the stranger a playful wink. "Even if yer just playin' around by yaself, sometimes that's even betta' than with someone else. Who else knows ya like you do? Why shouldn't ya make yaself feel good? 'Specially if it's helpin' ya look afta' yaself. Doctors should fuckin' prescribe that shit, baby. Jerkin' off is a helluva drug!"

A weighted silence fell over the pair as Angel's own past wandered into his consciousness. "But, uh... I hear ya," he nodded solemnly. "Where yer comin' from, I mean. It's rough when ya grew up bein' told that sex is somethin' ta be ashamed of. But the best thing I eva' did was learn that it ain't. You ain't doin' anythin' wrong, and if someone's got a problem with what yer doin', that's on them. It ain't their fuckin' business what ya get up to behind closed doors. If it helps ya, makes ya feel good, and don't hurt nobody, why the fuck shouldn't ya do it? Ya deserve ta take care a yaself - in every sense a' the term!"

[angelayag]

3 a.m. Doomscrolling

It was 3 a.m. in the morning, and she was in a dark, cold place with only her phone lighting the room. She was lying comfortably in her bed, snuggling with her body pillow, and feeling the warmth of her soft blanket wrapped around her. Before this, she made a promise to herself that she would fix her sleeping schedule as her online class starts at 7 a.m. and she didn’t want to feel droopy for the entirety of her class, but here we are again repeating the same cycle that she always does, scrolling through social media without noticing or even caring how much time has passed. It seems like the internet has consumed her life, from sunrise to sunset. She couldn’t even eat without some sort of entertainment video to watch; now, it even devours her time of rest.

Despite her being on her phone the entire day, you would think that she would eventually get bored and tired of web surfing, but no, it seems like her scrolling through the internet never stops. She had fallen into the rabbit hole of doomscrolling, and that "she" was me. 

Yeah, I know that I have a serious problem, as is evident from how I relate to the meme that I am looking at right now, which is a clown looking at the mirror and telling themselves that they are "definitely" going to fix their sleeping schedule. I just had to share this post with the caption "literally me rn" because the timing of this meme is just impeccable. Now, on to scrolling through Facebook once again. 

Facebook is a platform with multigenerational users, as people from all walks of life have gathered in this app. We have boomer folks who post inspirational quotes about not judging a book by its cover, along with a sketchy article of a supposed rumor about a celeb. We have younger pals who questionably may have violated Facebook’s terms of service due to the age limit, but here they are posting about their love life struggles at a very young age but also gullible enough to believe that Slender Man actually exists. We sure have wildcard characters that we can encounter on this app. 

As I scroll through Facebook, I see memes, photos of my FB friends, with whom I haven't even shared a word or two in real life, and fake news articles about politicians. I’m not even going to look at the comments, as it will surpass my low expectations about their comprehension. Through these seas of posts, something caught my eye, and that was Donalyn Bartolme’s birthday party with a "kalye" theme.

A rich person cosplaying as poor as a theme for a birthday party is definitely a controversial move and a guarantee of cancellation, at least to some. She claimed that she only did that to commemorate her past struggles before fame. Scrolling through comments, it seems like I share the same sentiment as people outside of Donalyn’s fanbase. Her action was incredibly tone deaf, as the hardships of poor people aren’t just decorations that only stay on certain occasions; they have to live with that struggle every single day. I presume, one of the side effects of being an influencer is losing a grasp of reality. 

This made me lose hope for humanity. Nevermind, I just saw a post about the COVID-19 case numbers going up. I mean, this isn’t necessarily new, as everyday COVID patients keep multiplying, but this made my frustration about the birthday thing insignificant. Weirdly enough, this realization did stop me from scrolling through Facebook. However, determined to make myself feel better, a quick scroll through Tiktok might do the trick. 

Tiktok is a haven for short-form video content. But even if the videos there take seconds to watch, it sure takes hours of your time as it easily spews out personal feeds for you to keep entertained. You can encounter various creators there from every genre or hobby imaginable as it tries to appeal to audiences with certain niches.

As I’m scrolling through Tiktok, I come across videos of comedy skits, fun facts, thirst traps, fan edits of my favorite fictional characters, interesting talents such as puppeteers and magicians, and tarot card reading, which I’m not a believer in yet still find intriguing. It seems like all is well; I am here having a good time until I came across this video of a guy, mad that the upcoming game Grand Theft Auto VI is becoming "woke" by adding a female character as a protagonist of their game.

Imagine boycotting a game just because it didn’t align with your wrapped-up view of society. The comments only ignite the fire even more as they make sexist comments, changing the way they look at the game franchise when the game is literally just about recklessly committing crimes.

But it only got worse from there, as my feed recommended a clip from one of those "alpha" male podcasts and introduced me to Andrew Tate. The clip in question is him talking about how men are allowed to cheat but women aren’t. I went to his profile, perplexed by his comment, only to find video after video of his misogyny, such as saying that the value of women decreases the more men she sleeps with or that women's only purpose is to serve men. His words were regarded as scripture in his fanbase, which is alarming considering that most of his fans are just teenage boys. Even with this, I was still invested in him, even as far as knowing information that wasn’t necessary to know, like how he used to be a professional kickboxer or that he was arrested for human trafficking.

Baffled by the negativity I’ve inflicted upon myself, why not add more fuel to the fire by visiting twitter next. 

Twitter is essentially microblogging, where you're free to post what’s on your mind, opinions you want to share, or just what is currently happening in your life with a 280-character limit. Your text, known as a "tweet," is broadcast across the platform and can be found by the masses, who can add their own comment about the thing you just tweeted in the form of quote tweeting or by simply replying under the post.

Twitter is a platform for free speech. As I scroll through it, various tweets pop up, some of which are from my friends but primarily from online strangers. What do we have here? Funny jokes, rants, social happenings, and of course horrible takes. 

I have yet again found myself spiraling over a post. It started with one user's post on how they have finally gotten better in terms of their mental health. This was quote tweeted by another user, who stated that their post was offensive due to the “poor” timing of the tweet since the war between Russia and Ukraine was happening simultaneously. This created a public discourse whether the initial tweet was distasteful or not.  

Reading the comments on these posts has exposed me to one dubious take after another. Some replies might have been satirical, but since when did having stable mental health make you lose empathy? Stable mental health simply means that you can handle your well-being better, but it doesn't prevent you from showing concern for others. Thankfully, most people share the same sentiment as me. I'm not sure why this argument was brought up in the first place. And why do I still keep engaging with it despite its obviously dumb take?

At this moment, you may begin to notice a pattern of deliberately consuming negative posts and aimlessly migrating from one social media platform to another. It all starts when the mind goes into autopilot mode, making you scroll out of habit, triggered by negativity bias, making you notice a baffling post more than a positive one, diving deeper into the said post, facing the possibility of disregarding or ignoring relevant information that does not back up how you feel, feeling frustrated afterwards, going through another social media app in the hopes of lifting your mood up, thus starting the vicious cycle once again.

This phenomenon, referred to as "doomsurfing," but more commonly known as "doomscrolling," has arisen during the pandemic as more and more people have been experiencing the compulsive urge to endlessly scroll through their social media feeds and heavily focus on the upsetting or generally negative information. This can be caused by FOMO (fear of missing out), negativity bias, uncertainty, and a lack of self-control.

“Doomscrolling occurs when you realize you’ve landed on a story and have no idea how you got there. You can’t remember why you even got on your phone in the first place, but now you’re reading hundreds of comments or retweets of someone you don’t even follow,” is how Tess Brigman, a psychotherapist and coach, describe this phenomenon, which perfectly encapsulates the authentic experience and meaning of doomscrolling.

Due to the discrepancy that doomscrolling brings, it can definitely have its effects, such as apprehension, fear, and distress, which lead to burnout and damage the general mood and well-being of a person. Taking it to the extreme takes a toll on mental health, which triggers anxiety and depression, which in turn affects sleep, appetite, and motivation and disrupts work, time with family and friends, and lastly, passion.

Holding social media companies responsible is a way of calling out action to doomscrolling, one article suggests, as their business model is an algorithm designed to catch the attention of users, thus increasing engagement. This means that the more you click on dumb or concerning posts, the more likely it is that you’ll receive the same kind of content the next time you visit the app. Legal monitoring and regulation of social media businesses may improve platform accountability, boost the transparency of their algorithmic processes, and enable users to reject personalization and profiling.

With all this, the most effective way to cut back on doomscrolling is to improve oneself. You can start by setting a time limit for yourself to monitor and minimize the hours of your screen time. You can do this by setting it up yourself, or for those with a lack of self-control, download apps that do similar functions. Unfollowing accounts that cause stress will help you declutter your feed from negativity. Setting the phone to send fewer notifications might also lessen the constant need to check our phones. If online, actively seek positive stories to balance out the negative ones. Ultimately, the most effective way to stray away from doomscrolling is to have leisure activities outside of social media, such as exercising, hanging out with friends and family, and doing what you're passionate about. Feeling overwhelmed by everything on the internet? Remember to refocus on the present moment.

Speaking of the present moment, my alarm just went off for 6 a.m. in the morning, one hour before my class. I didn’t sleep a wink last night; I have fallen down the rabbit hole of doomscrolling once again. Give it up to the author who can’t apply what she writes! She was blinded by the ray of sunlight as she opened the curtains, but she couldn't be blinded by the phone screen brightness that was on her face the entire time. This is the reality we both share, you and I. We’ve scrolled the internet up to the brink of oblivion; are you going to let it doom us all?

[nefarious-world]

TW

I can’t express how much I hate myself. The amount of hate and rage I’ve felt is something that makes me feel like I want to relapse. Everything was getting better, I’m on new meds and they help but ever since that breakdown I’ve felt angry. My sleep schedule is impossible to permanently fix and with my schedule my day is full of school, my brain makes me feel like I don’t have enough time to myself. It’s fall break and even before it started, I was gaining a lot of weight because I’m not active in my breaks between classes or after them. I want to do what makes me happy not exercise. This has caused me to gain more weight than I’m comfortable with. I’ve struggled with this before and then, I made the decision to starve myself. That made everything worse. And I cant do anything about it because my body and brain won’t let me. And I feel if I do start trying to fix it then my motivation will be corrupted. I could overwork myself or even end up despising myself more with no results. I’m angry towards myself and as punishment I want to start cutting again. But I can’t. I promised my mom I wouldn’t and if I got caught I would be sent back to the hospital. I would stay there for a month. I’m getting stretch marks where I didn’t know they could appear. Last time I peaked at the scale at my physiatrist appointment and I was about 195 pounds. I’m pretty sure I’m well over 200 now and that gives me emotions I didn’t know I could feel. Everyone keeps telling me it doesn’t matter and I know it doesn’t but I can’t convince my brain. I feel guilty anytime I eat anything. Sometimes I don’t eat what I wanted, and wait till I’m really hungry for something. I feel bed bound and I don’t know why. I’m finally able to brush my hair, teeth and take a shower every other day when I couldn’t do that for so long. But then this happens. It’s one thing after the other and it won’t stop. I need a break from my brain and what other people think. I need a break from life. Because if I don’t it will destroy me. I honestly don’t see myself still here in the future. Not just because of my problems but of others. I’m forced to grow up in a world that doesn’t care about me. The earth is dying, my rights are taken away, war may be starting, the government is not run on a democracy anymore, women are still fighting for their rights in 2022, i will be financially struggling, I won’t be able to buy a house, men will always be whispering in my ear and so much fucking more I can’t name because it’s so much. I don’t want to live through all that. It’s not worth it. But I can’t do fucking anything about it except just sit here. I’m stuck with my anger, hatred, self loathing, anxiety and fear. I’m only 13.

[adam-brooks]

‘And if it was an issue why didn’t you tell me when you got mad about everything else why’d you go on pretending like it was fine..why’d you act like you cared.’

I held the Danny incident separate from everything else. I had to because I know why you were doing it. And while it was maybe the stupidest thing you've ever tried to pull, I knew you were desperate to connect again. I didn't bring it up because you would have argued to the death about its validity precisely because of the nature of its seriousness to me. There was no point in calling you out when it would have just been a fight, been you hanging on to the lie. And our friendship being ruined. So yes. I controlled that narrative quickly, I helped you see that it would be a horrible idea for you to continue it and I released you from it by ‘releasing’ him. Giving you an excuse to never have to do it again. I played along and directed the ending of it to make sure you saw it was a bad idea. Which you did. When you said you couldn't be the one to do it, that's exactly the reaction I worked to get. And when I told him to go rest and leave you alone, that was releasing you from the lie entirely. Do you really think if I had a direct line to Danny that I would give that up for anything? I would sell my soul for that. But it has to be real. No amount of desire will make it truth if it's not. 

There's So much to say in defense of the slew of bullshit you unleashed yesterday. But there's no point in fighting. I lost my fight a while ago. I honestly thought that if I was complacent enough, everything would stop. The constant criticism against everything I do. The frustration I would spit at you when it got to be too much and that rebellious part of me that would need to feel understood, i was hoping it would go away. There was a time I was desperate to understand you. And I wanted you to understand me. But I haven't felt that need for a long time. I was hoping that with my new therapy schedule and new focus Dr. G and I were taking, that I would be able to gain new perspectives that would help us. The Danny thing really just killed anything I had left. I sat with it, to make sure. I didn't make a rash decision right then. I needed to make sure it was unforgivable. So when you started in on me, once again, for something completely…innocent. For something as simple as trying to build you up when you felt terrible, the realization hit me that I didn't care if you left and never talked to me again. I also realized it would mean going back on my word. So I needed to make sure this was the moment. I told myself ‘If she makes an effort to understand that I wasn't being mean to her or belittling Her, maybe I could hang on to my promise longer.’ 

Then you said ‘It was important to me and I had to wait’. Like I hadn't been waiting for months for things to get better and change. Whenever I realized something about myself, I would tell you. Whenever I had a plan to be better, I would tell you. I committed to focused therapy for the things you didn't like about me when I realized the source of why I was doing things you didn't like. But you had to wait a day. Because I had to sleep. Like sleep was…some slight against you. 

I broke my word. Yes. And maybe I'll never be able to reconcile that with the gods because they loathe an oathbreaker above all else. But you broke yours too. You broke many before I broke mine. So at least we are damned together. We are both cowards. We are both monsters. At least I can look at myself in the mirror and admit it. 

I don't think your faults make you bad. I think you have a great capacity for greatness, even now. But you need to stop excusing bad behavior with your list of disorders. I was always expected by you to rise above my disorders. Go to therapy for them. Fix them. Be better. I was expected to accept yours. Understand them. Work around them. Mold myself around them so you could be unaccountable. If you go into every relationship like that, you won't get much farther than with me. We will both be alone in the end. I just implore you to reflect on that. Because you have worlds to offer someone. I experienced it once. And I'm not being kind here, I'm being honest. 

I don't hate you. I know you hate me. And I knew that would be the outcome of saving myself. And if it helps, I'm happy to be that for you. A thing to direct it all to. But I am not your enemy. I'm not talking to anyone about you. About this. It's nobody's business. You're just a girl who is going to disappear. And that's my own thing to reflect on. 

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don��t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

How about a monster tom x reader where tom dreamt about him accidentally killing reader and when he sees reader they straight up tackle them to the ground and keeps saying I'm sorry over and over until reader bushes them and they talk it out and hug and watch a movie.

"What the hell, [y/n]?!! You ruined Susan!!!"

"She only has a scratch. Relax." You rolled your eyes as Tom scowled at you from across the room, holding his bass guitar. "Edd has destroyed her on purpose before, but you're mad at me for scratching her by accident?"

Usually he wouldn't get this upset, but all day long he seemed annoyed by everything. And apparently this was the cherry on top.

"Because unlike that idiot, I thought YOU would know better than to touch my shit!! God, you're just as dumb as--!!" All of the sudden, he let out a grunt of pain, dropping the guitar and clutching his head. His eyes whitened with stress. "J-Just get out..."

"Tom?" Now you were less irritated and more concerned, seeing his skin turn a light shade of lavender.

Never before have you seen him freak out this much to the point of transforming. It was starting to scare you.

"Hey c'mon, stay with me." You attempted to reach out to him. "It's okay, we'll take her to a repair shop and I'll pay for-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" His voice deepened as he slapped your hand away, though he heard a wince and saw that you were bleeding, before he noticed that his claws already manifested.

That only made him angrier. "See?!! YOU NEVER LISTEN!! YOU'VE NEVER LISTENED TO ME OR CARED ABOUT ME!! You think I'm a goddamn freak, don't you?!!"

'What the hell am I saying?!! I-I don't mean any of that...!!' Internally, Tom was panicking, confused as to why his mouth was blurting out these untrue things.

All of this over an instrument he can fix?

What was happening to him?

"N-No, Tom..I...I-I-" You were frozen on the spot, unable to defend yourself as he fully transformed, horns scraping the ceiling.

"Admit it..YOU HATE ME!!!"

'Don't listen to me, [y/n]! Please run!! FOR THE LOVE OF MACARONI JUST RUN!!!!' But despite his pleas, you had no chance to run away as the monster roared and tackled you to the ground.

No matter how much you begged him to stop, he could only sink his claws and teeth into your flesh. Pure rage and hunger fueled his instinct to kill, without realizing who he was killing to begin with.

Though when your screams were silenced forever, Tom blinked and got ahold of himself. He looked down at you, jaw dropping as he saw your mangled corpse.

'No..no, no, no!!!'

With a whimper, he tried shaking you, but you remained limp on the carpet floor.

This time he was the one screaming, covered in your blood.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"And this is Ringo's feeding schedule," Edd smiled as he handed you a list. "I made it literally this morning so uhh..yeah just follow that if you can, please."

"Thanks. I promise she won't starve." You chuckled, waving goodbye to him and his friends as they went out for the day. Tord bumped into you, reminding you to not let the "Jehovah's witness" sleep in, but you pushed him out the door before slamming it shut.

With a sigh, you turned around and glanced at the list, making your way into the living room space. For once you and Tom had the house to yourselves, so now you just had to wake him up so you'd feel less lonely.

"Does Edd know he can just buy an automatic pet feeder-?"

You jumped as you heard a loud scream, looking up in bewilderment. 'That sounded like-'

Moments later you saw Tom race out into the room, his eyes white as a ghost. But the moment he saw you, he yelled your name and tackled you to the floor.

"Ouch!! What the hell?!" You snapped, trying to sit up as you felt yourself being crushed by his arms. "Are you trying to kill me-?!!"

"I-I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry!!"

"..huh?" It was then you realized he was crying, face buried into your hoodie as he violently trembled. "Tommy?" You hugged him back, letting him cling to you. That only seemed to amplify his sobs.

"A-All those horrible things I said..th-they weren't me! I couldn't control myself!! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!"

For a moment you wondered what he might've recently said to hurt you, but you couldn't remember. You two never argued over anything serious. He had more fights with Tord than you.

Then you realized...

"Oh, Tom...you were just dreaming." You hushed, rubbing his back. "That's all it was. Just a dream."

"I-It felt so real, though. There was so much blood..y-your blood, and you weren't moving and I-I thought..I-"

"You didn't kill me. I'm right here, and I'm not hurt..physically or emotionally."

You could feel his fingers dig into your hoodie more. "Y-You're okay?"

"Yes. I'm okay."

That reassurance calmed him down, as he pulled away slightly to look at you, eyes going back to normal. You smiled and cupped his cheek, brushing away the tears. "Must've been a hell of a nightmare, huh?"

Tom just nodded, still sniffling on occasion. "Yeah..I just..had to make sure it didn't actually happen. Head gets a little fuzzy when I'm in that other form, y'know?"

"Don't worry, you didn't transform. Otherwise this whole place would've been trashed again." You chuckled.

"I'd rather have this place gone than ever hurt you."

"Awh, that's the most romantic thing you've said to me so far."

Now that you were both feeling better, you shared a kiss on the lips before embracing once more. "Good morning, by the way." You spoke after a few seconds of silence.

"Yeah..morning. So everyone else is out, huh?"

"For a few hours. Edd just gave me a schedule to feed Ringo. Maybe we could stream that new zombie robot movie you wouldn't shut up about?"

Tom looked at you with a sparkle in his eyes. "You mean Killer Zombie-Robots from Outer Space: The Prequel????"

"Uh...yeah. That one."

After you both got up, you went to the couch and turned the TV on, comfortably plopping down. Ringo joined you as well as she curled up in your lap.

As you looked for the movie, Tom cuddled up to you, head resting on your shoulder as he tried forgetting about that dream.

He was just glad nobody else was home right now.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 29: Happiest Place on Earth (Vacation/Roadtrip)

AO3

Prev

Marinette blinks at her dad, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

“B, you have a private jet. Why the fuck are we driving?” Jason asks, and Marinette swears his eye twitches.

“I thought it would be nice to do a family vacation the normal way, complete with a road trip.” Her dad says and Marinette frowns. Now? Now is when he decides to be normal?

“Father, we can not all leave. Someone must stay behind to patrol and watch over Gotham. As much as it pains me, I will stay.” Damian says, and Marinette resists the urge to whack him. It wasn’t going to hurt him at all to get to stay, he was doing it on purpose. She wanted to go on vacation with her brothers and dad and Selina, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with them being so close to her for over fifteen hours in an enclosed vehicle.

“No need. Clark said he would make sure to listen for any extreme trouble, Stephanie and Barbara will still be here, and if all else fails we’ll use the Zeta tubes to get back.” Her dad says, his tone filled with finality. This was serious. He was really going to do this to them.

“Well, I’ll drive the second car. And I call Pix-”

“We don’t need to take two vehicles, Jason. Selina and I went out and bought a new car that will seat all of us perfectly, and there’s plenty of room in the back for luggage.” He says, and Marinette makes eye contact with Damian. His face says ‘fix this’, but all she can do is shrug. There was no way she was going to be able to save all of them from this one. Their dad looked way too determined. Alfred had somehow managed to plan his own trip to England to line up perfectly with their trip, which meant he was saved from the inevitable horror the trip would bring.

---

Marinette was willing to bet that her dad had never been on a road trip before. She honestly doubted he’d ever seen a movie with a road trip before, because if he had, they would most definitely not be on one. Even movies with road trips show how awful they are. Sure, the family is smiling by the end, but that’s because they’ve come up with a foolproof murder plan. Marinette frowns and blinks. She’d definitely been spending way too much time with Damian.

She had even tried to convince her dad to use Kaalki, even though he hated magic. In fact, Kaalki had begged as well. But no. So Kaalki was riding in the spare tire shell on the back of the car, unwilling to sit with her brothers for so long. Not that she could blame the Kwami. They were only an hour into the drive (that was scheduled to take fifteen hours and forty five minutes, not including breaks or traffic). She wasn’t too upset with the seating arrangement, but it had been calm so far. Too calm. Her dad and Selina were, of course, in the front. The next row, which also contained bucket seats, had Dick (he claimed one of the seats as the oldest) and Tim (who had to sit there because he got horribly carsick). That meant that she was stuck in the very back, sitting between Damian and Jason. But that was fine, they’d gotten along so far. They could keep it up for another fifteen hours, right?

---

They couldn’t even keep it up for another five minutes. Jason reached behind her and whacked Damian, which made him let out a battle cry, one that was way too loud for the car, before turning and attacking Jason again. She wasn’t sure how Tim was still asleep, even with his headphones on, but she supposed it was for the best. She really didn’t want to deal with her brother’s car sickness this early in the trip.

“This family is a fucking nightmare!” Jason yells, kneeing the back of Dick’s seat. Marinette glares at him and his dramatics. He was definitely trying to get their dad to turn the car around and switch to the jet. But Marinette had a feeling that instead of turning around, he’d drive even slower.

“Jay, I love you. But if you don’t stop screaming, they’ll never find your body.” Marinette whispers with a smile. Jason frowns, elbowing her gently.

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be all over this shit.” He says with a huff. Marinette narrows her eyes.

“What, annoying shit?” She whispers snarkily, and Jason blinks. She frowns, until she realizes what she said. “Don’t tell dad!” She begs, latching onto Jason’s arm.

“Bruce!” Jason yells. Marinette yelps and covers his mouth.

“Jason, I am begging you not to do this.” She says, making eye contact with her dad in the rearview mirror and smiling awkwardly. “He was just guessing for, um, uh, I spy!” She yells, sighing in relief as he just nods and turns back to talk to Selina more. She’s about to give Jason an ultimatum, when he licks her hand. She gasps, yanking her hand back and wiping it on her pants with a frown.

“Karma!” Jason declares and Marinette huffs.

“No, it was just gross you mega jerk.” She says.

“Could I have the aux cord?” Dick asks suddenly. Marinette watches amusedly as Jason lunges forward to try and rip the cord from him.

“No, B, why would you give it to him?” He yells, trying to reach it, but unable to because of the seatbelt.

“I think you’re old enough to take turns, Jason. It’s not the end of the world letting Dick use the aux cord.” Dad says, and Dick cheers, plugging the cord into his phone. It’s completely silent for a moment, before ABBA suddenly blasts through the speakers. Marinette turns to Damian, her face stuck in a deadpan expression.

“I know you have a knife. Kill me, please. Or at least stab me badly enough that we have to stop.” She instructs, her eye twitching as Dick starts singing off key.

“If I had two, I would. But I refuse to allow you to escape this hell and leave me to deal with it by myself. If I am stuck here, ukht, then so are you.” Damian says, his tone just as flat.

“Nuh uh. Either all of the resurrected bitches get to die, or none of us do.” Jason pipes up and Marinette sighs.

“Completely unfair, but whatever.” She says, as a horrible thought suddenly crosses her mind. “Oh my god.” She says.

“What?” Damian asks. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and lets out a long breath before looking at her brother sadly.

“We have to drive all the way back, too.” She says, and chaos erupts in the backseat.

---

Jason glares at Bruce in the rearview mirror, waiting for the man to look back and notice him. He finally, finally does, and Jason just grins at Bruce’s responding sigh.

“What?” He asks, and Jason frowns.

“What, can I not just glare at you for no reason?” He asks, snorting at the overly done look on B’s face. “Okay, okay. I was just gonna ask you to stop at the next gas station. I need to walk around, my legs are literally dead.” He says.

“How? I thought Marinette was lying on your legs?” B says and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, she is, but I’m also scrunched up back here because Replacement just had to have the other good seat. I have long legs, B, I’m dying.” Jason says.

“Tt. If you were dying, I would not be forced to hear your voice.” Damian snarks, not even opening his eyes. Jason opens his mouth to argue, but is stopped by a finger raising slowly into the air.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh.” Pix says before dropping her finger back down and shifting around. Jason just rolls his eyes, trying hard not to smile at his baby sister. Maybe he could wait to walk a little longer. He leans up against the window, letting the soft noises of the car lull him to sleep.

---

Marinette Dupain Cheng was not dressed to impress as she walked into the random McDonalds, somewhere in North Carolina. Her dad had wanted to drive the whole way in one day, so at the last stop before she fell asleep, she’d changed into a pair of leggings, fuzzy socks and one of Jason’s old hoodies. Add in slides and a messy bun that could be mistaken for an abstract art exhibit, and Marinette was not willing to talk to anyone. At least, not until she had some coffee. She’s barely able to order her food before she’s following her brothers to a table in the corner. Sitting in the seat between Tim and Jason, she doesn’t even blink at the oddly stick table. It was six in the morning, the cleanliness of a table wasn’t exactly her number one priority. She narrows her eyes as Dick tries to say something to her, not quite able to comprehend his words. Just as she thinks she’s going to fall asleep on the sticky table, a huge cup is placed in her hands. The smell makes her sigh in relief before she takes a giant swig of the coffee, barely registering how hot it is.

“-nette! God, that was definitely too hot.” Dick says. Marinette blinks, the pain in her mouth finally helping her to register the fact that the coffee was too hot. Way too hot.

“Ouch.” She says quietly, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Kid, you’ve gotta be more careful.” Dick says, passing her another cup. She glances at it wearily and he sighs. “It’s a glass of ice water. It’s gonna feel a lot better than the coffee right now.”

“But, coffee.” She says and Dick gives her a look.

“It’s not going to kill you to drink the water. Now eat up. B wants to get back on the road as soon as possible.” Dick instructs and she groans at the food he passes her.

“You are such a dad.” She mumbles, picking apart the weird hash brown patty he’d passed her, eating small pieces of it.

“I officially hate road trips.” Damian says in a matter-of-fact tone. Marinette glances at him sleepily and grins.

“Just wait til we get to Disney, petit oiseau. That’ll be your own personal hell.” She promises him, snorting at the look on his face. In fact, she doubted any of the family would actually enjoy Disneyworld, given the fact Mar’i and Starfire were off planet again. Well, she knew she would enjoy it. But she doubted her brothers or dad would. Selina would enjoy it, until someone inevitably pisses her off and she steals from them and then gets in a major fight with her dad and- yeah. This was definitely one of her dad’s worst plans ever.

---

Dick insists on taking a family picture at the first rest stop inside Florida. He’s grinning at the palm trees and dolphins painted on the ‘Welcome to Florida’ sign with so much excitement, Marinette almost starts to think that this plan wasn’t awful. Almost. Because three seconds later, Damian is charging at Jason with the katana that he had somehow managed to sneak into the car. Which should have been impossible. She purses her lips as she tries to figure it out, when she sees Kaalki and the wide smile on their face.

“Did you open a portal so that Damian could get his sword and attack Jason?” Marinette asks Kaalki tiredly. She was relieved that her dad had decided they would spend the rest of the day at the hotel (once they finally got there, they were still currently stuck at that stupid welcome sign) instead of trying to go to Disney today. She was exhausted, and right now, the Kwami was not helping.

“I only helped him. He’s so small, and he is your brother, you know.” Kaalki says and Marinette snorts.

“So is the one that he’s currently trying to kill, Kaalki. But okay, sure.” She says, rubbing her face tiredly. She did not have the energy to deal with this right now. She sighs as Jason yells, turning on her heel and rushing after Damian.

“Get the fuck away!” Jason screams at Damian.

“Damian, no, drop the sword! Damian, please!” Marinette yells, rushing after him.

“Todd insists that he’s bunking with me. If he’s dead, I don’t have to worry about that.” Damian calls back, continuing rushing towards Jason. Marinette groans, running faster after him. Apparently, he was excessively crabby when tired. Joy.

---

“Do you think I could get away with wearing these all the time?” Dick asks, pointing to the Toy Story themed ears on his head.

“Might make some aspects of life a little hard.” Marinette points out with a grin as she imagines him, in his Nightwing uniform, with Toy Story ears on.

“We’d definitely amuse more villains, that’s for damn sure.” Jason adds with a smirk.

“Like yours are much better.” Dick says with a pout, pointing at Jason’s bright red Lightning McQueen ears.

“At least I’m wearing one of the better Disney characters.” Jason counters, glancing at Tim. Tim just frowns at him, sleep deprivation clear on his face.

“Goofy is one of the original Disney characters, Jason, I will not be accepting criticism.” He says flatly. Marinette giggles.

“What’re you laughing at sparkles?” Tim asks, pointing at the sparkles and huge bow attached to her ears.

“Nothing. Nothing at all, Timmy.��� She says with a grin. She glances down at her watch, wondering what’s taking her dad so long. “Mo-Selina, do you think Dad’s alright?” Marinette asks, barely catching herself. She hadn’t asked Selina, or her Dad, if it was okay to call her that. And she didn’t want to be the kid to ruin the vacation. She currently had money on Jason being the one to ruin things, and she didn’t want to self sabotage that bet.

“Oh definitely. He’s probably just having trouble finding the perfect ears. After all, animal ears aren’t really his thing.” Selina teases, giving Marinette’s shoulders a quick squeeze. She grins and leans into her, content as she stands there and watches the door waiting for- yup. That was her dad. Walking out of a store, in public, with Mickey Mouse ears on his head. Oh this is amazing.

“Nice ears, B.” Jason teases and Marinette giggles. Sure, his ears were the most basic out of everyone (just plain black) but it was still hilarious to see her usually serious dad with mouse ears on his head.

“Tt. I cannot believe that you insisted we all wear them.” Damian complains, but Marinette can tell he likes his ears, even if he won’t admit it. They were Stitch themed, which was Damian’s favorite Disney movie. Really, it was one of three that she’d found that he could tolerate.

“I think you all look adorable.” Selina teases, her ears, like Marinette’s, were on a headband rather than a hat. And Selina’s were white with a veil. Marinette adored them.

“Can we please go get some coffee at Friar Nook’s?” Tim asks, looking dead on his feet. She frowns, slightly worried. They’d only been at the park for half an hour and he was already ready to pass out?

“Did you not sleep at all last night?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing but still concerned for him.

“Blame Dick. He snored all. Night. Long.” Tim complains, sighing deeply. Marinette winces.

“Why don’t you switch with Jason? He can sleep through anything.” She suggests.

“Absolutely not.”

“I would rather chew off my own foot.” Tim and Damian speak at the same time, turning to glare at each other before huffing.

“Come on, let’s go do some rides or something.” Dad suggests, and Marinette agrees, trying her best to hype up her brothers. Even though she’d been wary of the trip, and she was still NOT looking forward to the trip back, she could tell her dad wanted this to go well. He was obviously trying to let them have once nice (normal) vacation together. So she was going to do her best to make sure the rest of the trip was as amazing as possible.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter viii

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. 

“Hey, are you busy?” I huffed as I heard Ransom’s voice, especially the concerned tone he was using. It’s not like I didn’t believe he actually wanted to have a serious conversation with me, but more as in I did not want to have that conversation right now, not when I could still remember the night we *almost shared oh-so-well.

“Yes, can’t talk right now.” And that’s all I said before I hung up on him, knowing I was being impolite, but honestly too busy to care. Classes had started and considering next term I probably wouldn’t be here to take care of my usual courses, I had to leave somewhat of a very structured syllabus behind for who was supposed to sub for me.

Days went by where it was pretty much the same. Ransom would call me, I’d give him an excuse to hang up, and then I’d throw myself into work, still adamant on ignoring the fact that a whole human was growing inside of me. I had to schedule a doctor’s appointment, I knew that, but the thought of going there alone and the reality of the situation suddenly hitting me was just too much.

I should have known it was only a matter of time until Ransom grew tired of my efforts to dodge his calls, though.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my mouth hanging open as he walked into my office. When I heard the knocks, I expected it was another student who still hadn��t figured out my office hours yet, so to see him in my work environment was particularly shocking.

The man in question just shrugged, like it was absolutely no big deal that he was in the same environment where I usually planned my courses. “You didn’t answer your phone. I need to talk to you.”

“You can’t keep showing up in random places that you know I’ll be in! First my house, now my workplace…” He actually flinched at my complaint, for the first time since I met him seeming genuinely aware of his mistake.

“I know. I’m sorry. I really needed to talk to you and you wouldn’t answer your phone. I figured coming here would be less invasive than just showing up at your apartment again.” The fact that he actually put thought behind this and considered my feelings about it actually disarmed me.

He was right, this was less invasive than having in my home, considering I did not plan on seeing him at all. This was my work environment, somewhere I always felt empowered in, and not the place where I walked around in pajamas and would hide at when I was in my most vulnerable state.

“Are you gonna throw me out?” He asked me, vulnerability written all over his expression, and I was thrown off whatever wagon I had intended to ride the next time I met with Ransom again.

“No.” The word sounded tired even to my own ears, and that’s because I was. I was tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of being aggressive and dismissive towards someone I knew I would have to eventually work with. I pointed the chair in front of me for him to sit, chuckling to myself as I rubbed my eyes when I realized the perfect irony of this situation. He was the one in my office now.

For a few seconds, we just stared at each other. I was waiting for him to talk - he was the one who seemed so desperate to talk to me, anyway - but it seemed like he needed the time to gather his courage.

Once he started, though… It was clear that he’d been mulling this over for a long time.

“I know you barely know me, and the stuff you do know has probably introduced you to the worst possible version of me… I can’t even say that’s not true. For a long time, that was all I was and all I wanted to be.” He took a minute to breathe, and I patiently waited for him to continue. If anything, it was obvious he was speaking from the heart, and I wanted him to know that I highly appreciated him lowering his defenses for a while to actually let me see who he really was.

“Still, as the man you think I am, I ask for you to give me a chance. Please, listen to me. Don’t do this. Don’t lock me out, don’t keep me away from you and this pregnancy. I can do better. I can *be better. Maybe this kid is exactly what I needed to get my act together. I was able to fix my work behavior, it was my personal life that missed… something to work towards.”

My hand had fallen over my belly, protectively shielding my child from what I’d briefly considered he’d present as a lab experiment for his own self-improvement, but then I understood. I’d seen this before on my research about him - his actions weren’t completely careless and egoistic, they were his response to the internal anguish he had lived through, of not having anything to aspire towards.

“And I really want to be around for this. I want to be around for you. I don’t want my only participation to be… sperm donor.” And there, for the first time since we met, Ransom Drysdale made me laugh with his defense mechanism of joking around emotional moments. 

It seemed like my laughter eased some of the tension in the room, and he even smiled as he continued, “I can’t promise I’ll do a good job. I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do, but I will try my very best - and that’s more than I’ve been willing to do my entire life. I want to be better, for our child and for you. Because you deserve that. You deserve someone to help you go through this too.”

Try as I might, I could not stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks by the end of his speech. I’d blame the pregnancy, even though I knew that was only half of it. The relief was just… indescribable. This is exactly what I’d prayed to have when I found out I was pregnant to a man I barely knew.

And so I reached out for his hand, wanting him to know just how much I meant what I was about to say. “Listen, I screwed up too. I let gossip get the best of me. The truth is, I’m scared of relying on someone and then having to figure it all out by myself, once again. So I need us to start small, okay? Maybe if we build this friendship on a foundation that’s different from the pregnancy, I can start to trust you with it, too.”

He nodded understandingly, lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but I beat him to it. “Would you like to meet me at the bar tonight? Ana has been bugging me to go and I promised I’d accompany her there tonight. I think it’s more your scene than a night in with chocolate and movies.”

His mouth closed at that, and he laughed, eyes crinkling with humor as he nodded at my words. “You are right. That does sound good to me.” We stayed like that for a while, just relishing in each other’s presence. “So, meet you there?” He asked, and I could see there were still some underlying trust issues there. I did spend the last week avoiding him, though.

So I squeezed his hand before confirming, “Meet you there tonight.”

[jawllines]

Sorry to be annoying but I asked awhile ago and I think tumblr ate my ask but did you ever do tattoo Harry blurb? I love them and I miss them:( I’ve looked through your tags and there isn’t any on there if you have posted one

I CAN POST ONE I WROTE A WHILE AGO RIGHT NOW :D I DONT THINK I POSTED HERE BUT LET ME KNOW HERE YOU GO PET 

i.

“Baby -- baby, c’mon!”

It was rare that Harry ever woke Y/N with more than kisses and cuddles. Maybe an abrupt shoulder shake if the both of them slept through their alarms (and, considering that they are the only ones with the key to open up their own respective stores, they never typically arrived late facing happy employees -- or in Y/N’s case, employee -- Niall, in particular, was always more of a grump in that situation than Riktor even), but even that still managed to be tender, and soft. He always treated her so delicately, as if she were made up of porcelain in the morning and it was imperative to speak in a low, soothing voice with careful touches or she might shatter. And she really didn’t think it was because she was an absolute terror to wake up -- Y/N did quite well, even as early as 5 AM she was still in somewhat of a pleasant mood, certainly nothing to be fearful of -- she thinks he’s just gentle in the morning. He’s gentle all the time, but for some reason or another, he’s extra soft with her then.

They had both had a bit of a busy day, so by the time that they made it back to Y/N’s flat (Harry said he liked it there best because it smelled like her, and -- well, he softens her up and calls her Darling when he wants them to go over there, so it’s hard to say no), both of them were ready for bed. Neither of them could barely keep their eyes open as they scarfed down the burgers they’d picked up on the way home, and once they’d finished and brushed their teeth, they toppled into each other on the mattress. Y/N would reckon they both fell asleep before their heads had even hit the pillow -- she doesn’t even remember crawling beneath the blankets.

Apparently she had though, because now as her brain tunes in with the world around her and she realizes that the distorted voice that had begun to prod her dreams was actually a grumpy, dry throat Harry, she’s cuddling herself closer in the covers. This only makes him grumble at her more, “You’re such a blanket hog,” he whines and Y/N finally blinks her eyes open, being greeted with Harry’s disgruntled, pouted face illuminated by the sunlight beginning to slip through the blinds, “I’ve been trying to unravel it for like ten minutes, but you’re all wrapped up! I’m cold.”

Y/N smiles sleepily at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation entirely as she begins to un-burrito herself from the covers, “G’morning, beautiful,” she murmurs as she does so, finally disentangling from the blankets and while she was a little less warm, Harry was quick to wiggle in beneath them, “Sorry.”

“Don’ be sweet when m’tryin’ to be angry with you,” she puckers her lips at him dramatically, and though he sighs, he leans in and presses their mouths together softly, “Your kisses aren’t g’na sweeten me up, m’still grumpy, blanket hog.”

She can only hum as she cuddles closer to him, “Sorry,” she repeated, this time adding, “Like to swaddle myself like a lil’ baby. Reckon you weren’t holdin’ me well enough last night.”

An offended gasp leaves through his lips soundly, enough that it startles her, but his arms worm around her waist and draw her closer to his body, “Brat,” he grumbled, dipping his nose into her throat, “I held you so well and you just wiggled right out of my arms and took all the covers with you.”

“Like a worm -- I wiggled out like a worm or somethin’,” she tried to sit up but his arms tightened around her, “This worm has to pee though and she’ll soak the bed if she isn’t allowed.”

His arm loosens around her, “This worm sounds like she’s a sleepy sort of delusional that requires about two hours more of rest.”

Y/N stumbles toward the bathroom in her room, “Noooooooo,” she whines, frowning at nobody, not bothering to swing the door shut before she plops on the cold toilet seat to relieve herself, “We’re supposed to go get hot chocolate, no more sleep.”

“Baby, it’s 6 AM and I’ve been up the last 30 minutes freezing my bits off!” He calls back to her and she giggles some, her eyes trying to accommodate to the bright white lights of the bathroom, “Sleep just a bit more and we’ll get the hot chocolate when we wake up next.”

She waits until she flushes and washes her hands to respond to him, and though she knows that she is definitely going to crawl back in bed and fall asleep, she stands at the foot of it with her hands in fists at her hips. He had let his eyes flutter closed by then but she thinks he could feel her eyeballing him, so he looks up past the mountain of blankets now covering him so she could only see his eyes and his nose, “What’re you doing?”

“You’re telling me, you don’t wanna go at 6 AM, three hours before the kiosk even opens to get hot chocolate with me? You must really hate me, don’t you?”

He huffs a sharp breath through his nose which is how he usually laughs in the morning, when he can’t muster up the strength to have a proper giggle, “Absolutely loathe you, baby doll, but could you please come back to bed so I can loathe you in the warmth?”

It takes little persuading -- as she said, she knew she was just going to crawl right back in beside him -- and instead of relying too heavily on the blankets to provide her warmth (like wrapping up half of it around her so she was cocooned entirely. . .this is what she normally does, and she would say that’s probably why Harry almost never has any of the covers in the morning), she relies on him. Picks up his arm so that she can fit herself underneath it and lies her cheek on his chest, “Your pits better not be smelly.”

“I make no promises.”

.                             .                         .

“I love your hair.”

“Stop it, Sweetheart, I’m g’na start blushing.”

They had slept for four more hours rather than the two Harry had originally suggested, but that always happens with them. Y/N would say that they are just too content cuddled up with one another that they milk it for all it’s worth. If one of them wakes up before the other, then they just settle their head back down and close their eyes again. Unless they had somewhere to be, of course, but Harry had a free Saturday (no clients schedule, even though Saturday’s could often be some of his heaviest days) and he’d elected to spend it with her -- whether they were awake or asleep didn’t much mater, they just liked to be near each other.

When they finally did wake up, they lazily got dressed into about thirty layers so they wouldn’t freeze outside. The weather had grown frigid quite quickly this November, and neither of them stood the cold very well, but there was a park lined with little pop-up kiosks with hot chocolate, sweets, little holiday goodies, and an obscene amount of knitted blankets (it was a clever marketing tactic, Y/N thought -- everyone is more willing to spend money on a blanket when they’re freezing cold - she and Harry had certainly fallen for it today). Y/N bought them shoe warmers to keep their toes at least not numb, and Harry lets her borrow a pair of his gloves because she keeps forgetting to buy some of her own. They both have hats fitted over their heads too, and since Harry’s let his hair grow out, his curls stick out from beneath the pumpkin orange print and Y/N can’t stop staring at it. She’s always loved his hair, she told him as much one of the first nights they’d sat on her bookstore’s floor and talked about just a bit of everything. Back when she barely realized she had a crush on him. . . .when she didn’t know that in just a little time, she would be over the moon.

And she’ll never forget that people used to make him feel like shit about his hair, so she maybe overcompensates by telling him every time she has thought about loving it. Which means today, in the span of a short three hours they’d been awake, Y/N had complimented his hair about twenty different times. If she was running her fingers through it, fixing his beanie, or just staring at him, she let him know just how much she adored his curls.

“I hate to tell you this, Button, but your cheeks are already red as apples,” she shifted the paper cup of hot chocolate from her hand closest to him to the other, so she could reach up and tuck them behind his ear, that had reddened from the cold, “The air has you more bashful than I ever could.”

“Not true,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he knocks closer to her ear, “I always blush when you go down on me.”

“God,” Y/N shakes her head, “You’re too much, d’ya know that?”

He laughs, nudging her with the cold tip of his nose, “You want the peppermint bark? We’re coming up on the seller.”

“Of course, I want peppermint bark,” she reaches for her wallet, “I’m stocking us up for the next hundred years or so.”

Harry slows for a moment, sliding his gloved hand into her own and squeezing, “Hey,” he begins, his voice soft, somewhat reflective and it brings her attention to him at her side, “Y’know when -- you remember how you said you just get random flushes of love for me and s’a whole lot and you just don’t know what to do with it?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, like every waking minute practically. Why?”

He smiles shyly, “I’m having one of those moments.”

“For the peppermint bark?” She teases, but his brows furrow and he swats her shoulder playfully, “Hey!”

“I’m trying to be sweet on you, and you’re still going on about this bloody chocolate,” he rubs the arm that he swats, even though Y/N has so many layers on plus the blanket that she bought wrapped around her, that he made no real contact with her body.

Y/N pulls him in for a hug, narrowly avoiding a child running past them as she does so, “Oh, you know m’only kidding. I love you too, Bug, more than words can describe and ten times more than the chocolate I reckon. . .well, unless it’s made really well this year.”

“I’ll leave you here, blanket hog.”

[hockeyboysiguess]

four calling bird -> four broken sticks | a. matthews

a/n: it’s me, again, hoping you aren’t yet sick of christmas fics from me. if you aren’t, here’s a link to the rest of this 12 days of christmas series!

word count: 4,161

warnings: two curse words and some angst. 

“How many broken sticks is that today, Matts?”

Auston didn’t know the answer and he didn’t care about the answer either. He just cared that his stick was broken and he couldn’t practice his slapshot with a broken stick. And he needed to take a slapshot right now, and another one, and another one. He needed to send a puck through the netting, through the glass behind it, and bury it deep in the wall behind that. Maybe his feelings for you would get buried with it if he could just hit the puck hard enough.

“I think he’s at two,” Willy supplied as Auston grabbed a fresh stick from the rack that unfortunately wasn’t pre-taped. He’d broken all of those already. 

“You missed one,” Mitch corrected. “That’s the third one he’s broken.”

Auston started a fresh roll of tape, starting with the heel of his new stick like always.

“I’m right here,” Auston reminded his teammates who were talking about him like suddenly he was invisible as he taped his stick lazily. One of his worst tape jobs in awhile, but he didn’t really care. “I’m not breaking any more. Just in case you were wondering.” 

That promise worked for another twenty minutes. Until Mitch dared to ask the question everyone had been avoiding. 

“So, did you tell your mom you broke up and that she’s not coming with you for Christmas yet? If not, you kind of need to tell her. You can’t just show up without her.”

And there came the fourth broken stick as the final whistle of practice came, with Auston thinking about the inevitable phone call with his mother and really having to say it out loud that he lost you after everyone told him ad nauseum not to lose you because you were so much better than him. You were so much better than him and Auston couldn’t pretend he was even half of the person you were. He couldn’t even think about watching you shove your things in a box as you raced out of his place, or the drawer that your things had inhabited now sitting empty, or the fact that his mom loved you and he hadn’t told her you weren’t coming to Arizona. He really couldn’t think about losing you a week before Christmas, the time of the year that was supposed to be magical and pure and good and joyful. Instead, Auston was pretty sure he hated Christmas now. 

Auston knew for a fact he hated Christmas as he pressed his mom’s contact on his phone while climbing into his car. He loved his mother and loved talking to her. He loved that he was going to get to go home for a few days and spend the holidays with her. But you were supposed to be there too and telling his mom was the last barrier that made the breakup real. A large part of Auston still thought he’d open his eyes in the morning and your hair would be in his face and your bobby pins would be all over his bathroom counter and your clothes would be haphazardly stuffed in your drawer and overflowing into two of his that technically weren’t yours but might as well have been. 

But then his mom answered the phone and he knew that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t a nightmare. Well, it might still have been a nightmare before Christmas, but it wasn’t all in his head like he desperately hoped it was. 

“Hi, mijo!” She greeted him with a warmth that always made him feel like he was back in Arizona, but today it also made Auston feel sick to his stomach because he was about to break her heart, never mind the fact that his was already broken too. “How are you? How was practice? We’re all so excited to see you both tomorrow!”

Auston let out a long breath, the kind that let his mom know there was something heavy and unspoken that was going to disrupt the Christmas cheer she’d been building since the Leafs schedule came out and she realized Auston was actually going to be able to make it home for Christmas this year. 

“Actually, um, about tomorrow…”

He trailed off, mostly because his bottom lip started to shake and his eyes started to get cloudy, but also because he wasn’t sure exactly how to admit that the girl his mom adored, who she fully and honestly wanted him to marry, wasn’t coming with him for Christmas this year or next year or any of the years after that. She was gone. He lost her and it was all his fault.

“Mijo, what’s wrong?” 

Auston bit his lower lip hard, hoping that would stop the shake and make his eyes gloss over from a pain that wasn’t in his chest. The words were so timid coming out of his mouth, syllables broken, shattered as they left his lips, “She broke up with me, ma. She’s not coming for Christmas.” 

Ema Matthews didn’t mean to; she wanted to be supportive of her son, but what came out was, “What did you do, mijo?” even though she should’ve just asked him what happened.

“I guess I just didn’t love her enough to overcome how shitty it is to date me,” Auston mumbled, replaying the night over in his head as he spoke. “Sorry for swearing, mama.” 

Auston remembered your sweater from a few nights ago when you showed up at his place, your snowflake one, subtle office appropriate Christmas, is what you’d called it in the moment. Auston had laughed, until he saw an empty box in your hands. He was confused when you set it down on the counter and didn’t take your shoes off. You didn’t bend down to pet Felix like you always did. Your shoes got kicked off haphazardly by his front door and then you pet Felix and then you came over and gave him a kiss. It was your routine when you came over, but this time your shoes stayed on, you barely acknowledged Felix, and there was an empty box sat on a counter in place of kissing him. 

“Auston,” you had sighed and he knew the second he heard the way you said his name that you were breaking up with him. He had been so scared of ever hearing it that he’d imagined every single way it would sound if you were going to do it. Finding you, and you somehow being willing to date him, had been the biggest blessing Auston had ever received. He had always thought that some day you would wake up and realize you could do so much better than him, so he’d imagined what it would sound like when he couldn’t sleep at night on the road without you. He thought if he familiarized himself with every possible permutation of it that when it eventually happened, he wouldn’t cry in front of you, that maybe he wouldn’t beg for you to stay even though you shouldn’t want people who don’t want you. 

It didn’t work. The way you said his name made him cry.

“Please,” Auston had said softly. “Please don’t do this now. Please. It’s Christmas. I know that stupid, but please don’t break up with me at Christmas.” 

You had hung your head and sighed again, “I’m sorry, Aus. I just, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve tried. I’ve tried for so long to just tune it out, just focus on you and us but lately everything has been just so loud that I can barely hear myself think. My friends and family are getting harassed. It’s not just me anymore. It’s too loud. It’s too much. And I don’t want to spend Christmas with your family knowing I just want to end it. That’s not fair to you or your mom or anyone.” 

“How is showing up at my place with a box to dump me for stuff I can’t control without even having a discussion fair either?” 

Auston had tried to fight back. He had tried to have a conversation, to communicate, something he had been absolutely awful at when you started dating. You had been so patient, so kind, and so steadfast with him as he figured out how to be a partner, how to meet you halfway. Here you were, after he worked so hard on himself because he thought if he worked hard enough maybe he could be worth a small part of you, acting like it wasn’t enough, that everything he couldn’t control mattered more than him. Unfortunately, sometimes, people can try as hard as they can, with all of their might, and still lose. He was so good to you, so good with you, but in the effort of fixing himself, of learning to be a better partner with as much of his energy as he had to give, he’d slipped a little in one area. Auston didn’t protect you enough from the noise and you were damaged because of his lack of ability to shield you from the press, from the fans, from every hungry person who fed on other people’s drama and suffering, from people who didn’t want you and Auston to be happy. Auston lost because he didn’t have more to give than he was already giving you. He lost you because what he had to give just wasn’t enough like a rejected Christmas present, rejected not because the gift inside wasn’t beautiful, but because it came with a toxic addition that Auston had tried not to wrap up with him, but failed. 

Driving down the street, all the Christmas decorations seemed to be mocking him. This was supposed to be his best one in a long time, getting to be back in Arizona with his family, plus getting to spend it with you. If Auston had drawn up his perfect Christmas at the start of the year, what he had planned was what he would’ve drawn up. But even the best laid plans, even the most carefully selected gifts, didn’t always pan out. 

“I’m sorry, mijo,” his mother told him softly, any earlier traces of disappointment over losing you from the family gone. She’d have to work through that herself later. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Auston felt like he was supposed to want to talk about it, about what it felt like to lose you and what he was feeling like now that he was being forced to become settled in it even though that was the last thing he wanted. Auston didn’t want to talk about the breakup though because he just tried so hard with you and he came up short anyway. Talking about shortcomings that couldn’t be fixed, because he could never fully shelter you from the noise of everyone else, wasn’t healthy. He could do everything in his power, use all of his energy, to protect you from it all, put zero effort into your actual relationship, and he still couldn’t do it. Talking about something Auston would always fail at and how it had cost him you wasn’t something he was all that interested in with the wreaths on the light posts and the Christmas carols on the radio station that you had insisted he play in his car mocking him. 

“Not really, ma,” Auston admitted softly. “Kind of just need to be alone tonight.” 

“Of course, sweetheart,” she mumbled as assuringly as she could. “Do whatever you need to do.” 

What Auston needed to do to feel better was drive over to your place and beg for another chance, a chance to do it better. He couldn’t even fully protect you, but maybe he could find more to give somewhere in him and do it better, while not being a worse boyfriend for it all. Except Auston knew you didn’t want him to try. You hadn’t asked for him to try. You had just broken up with him, just like that. Now, he was spending Christmas where the only gift he had received so far was his own heart shattered, given to him in an unwrapped box. 

“Yeah, I think I just need some time,” Auston sighed, running a hand through his hair before returning it to the steering wheel. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“If you change your mind and want to talk, you know you can call anytime,” Ema tried to assure her son softly. 

Auston just hummed softly in agreement, before telling his mother Merry Christmas and that he'd see her tomorrow. He tossed his phone careless into the cup holder, one of the side buttons hitting the side of the cup holder and greeting him with a picture of you kissing his cheek, arms wrapped around him, love obvious in your closeness. He hadn’t been able to change it yet, but your face squished against his cheek in that photo made his eyes tear up whenever he saw it. Luckily, the only lucky part of the last few days, he just pulled into his garage, so he could let the tears roll down his cheeks without worrying about not being able to see the road. Like every night since you’d left, Auston slept on the couch that night, the Christmas tree you had insisted on getting, mocking him in the corner. His sheets smelled too much like you to sleep in that bed, so he picked the mocking Christmas tree instead. 

Auston was on autopilot as he grabbed his bag, the one he’d left space in for your extra things that you wanted to pack that lived at his place. He didn’t fill the space he’d left for you because it was still your space. Like yesterday, the Christmas decorations and the Christmas music and the fake gingerbread smell coming from every shop in the airport mocked him as he waited for his flight. He just wanted to be home where he thought being around his family would feel enough like Christmas that he’d feel at least marginally better. He felt better when his mother wrapped her arms around him as he stepped off the plane, and when the warm Arizona sun hit his skin on the wall to the car. But it was all as temporary and out of place as the snowy decorations littering his parents’ home. Snow didn’t fall in Arizona and he didn’t have you anymore. 

His mom tried. His dad tried. His sisters tried. They all tried to cheer him up, shoving an ugly sweater over his head and a Santa hat on top of it. But he couldn’t engage in it. His mind was on you, on how you were supposed to be here, how he wanted to ask you to move in as part of your Christmas gift. He had a key made for you. He was so ready for you, for you and him for as long as he could see into the future, and now he just hated your favorite holiday. His bed felt too big that night, but at least the sheets in Arizona didn’t smell like you even though the space next to him was clearly meant for you. 

Auston woke up the next morning feeling hungover even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. He rubbed his eyes slowly and reached out to the space you were supposed to occupy, finding nothing but cold sheets and an emptiness that felt so much more vast than half of a king size bed. His phone reminded him that it was December twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve, but it had never felt less like Christmas for Auston. Christmas was supposed to be sickeningly sweet, like all the candy his mother would stuff in his stocking later tonight. It was supposed to be happy, and maybe that was the worst part of it all, that Auston felt like he was supposed to be happy but just couldn’t be. Hhe lost you and he felt like he was letting everyone down by not being happy, by not being filled with Christmas cheer that was just making him feel so sick he couldn’t even eat his reindeer shaped pancakes his mother made, like she did every Christmas Eve morning. 

“You want to help me with the cookies?” his older sister asked him, trying to will Auston away from where he’d settled on the couch after being unable to eat his breakfast.

“I’m fine,” he replied with his eyes still trained on his phone. 

He was flipping through photos of you, something he knew would only hurt worse, but he couldn’t stop. He was trying to find out when something had changed, when you stopped looking at him with all the love in the world, the look that people had made fun of you for ever having about him of all people. Now that Auston was looking back on it, maybe they were right to do so. Maybe he was inevitably going to ruin what he had with you and everyone else had seen it from the start, noticed the inevitable unmarked intersection where you would crash into each other. When you crashed last week, it seemed only Auston walked away with any damage, shattered like an ornament that fell from the top of the tree, only to have the fragments of him carelessly tossed in the trash, no attempt made to repair him. 

Auston didn’t leave the couch except to move to the outdoor couch at his mother’s insistence and then back to the indoor one after the sun had set, time passing as it always did but affecting him less. He felt the same from moment to moment, an out of tune, incongruent symphony of thoughts of you, good, bad, and all the gray area in between, like the poor excuse for a symphony the carolers probably behind the knock on his front door would make that interrupted his private thoughts. His family was in the kitchen and he was closest to the front door. He didn’t want to answer and be faced with the prospect of ruining the Christmas spirit for a van-load of local children, but he didn’t have much of a choice when his mom called out for him to answer the door. 

Auston didn’t bother to look out to see who it was, choosing instead to get the shooting of children’s Christmas caroling dreams out of the way as quickly as possible. 

“Hey, guys, I appreciate you coming by, but we’re not really-”

Auston’s words caught on the tip of his tongue when he fully opened the door to see not the group of Christmas carolers he thought he would, but to see you standing there. You had nothing but a broken smile and a small duffle bag, the kind of small that indicated you didn’t know if you were about to be getting right back on a plane or if you were going to be allowed to come in. It was a kind of honest small, one that didn’t want to hope for the best, just expected the worst. You were wearing a Christmas sweater, one of your ugly ones. It was too warm for Arizona, sweat on your temples and the sleeves pushed up to your elbows as evidence of this, but Auston knew you wouldn’t take it off. He knew so much about you. He knew your favorite color, he knew that you always slept at an angle in the bed with the comforter bunched in your arms, he knew you loved Christmas with a passion that rivaled Santa Claus himself, he knew why you had broken up with him, but he didn’t know why you were here. 

“Hi,” was all you offered and it didn’t serve as an explanation. 

“What are you doing here?” Auston managed to put together the question from all the others crashing together in his mind, questions and statements and incoherent thoughts clashing and making it hard to come up with anything specific to say. “What? How? Why?”

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a long breath, before taking your bottom lip nervously between your teeth. You had a thousand reasons, really more than that as to why you’d bought a ridiculously expensive one-way ticket from Toronto to Arizona on Christmas Eve, why you’d squished yourself between a grandmother with a purse of overflowing powdery mints and a crying infant to show up at his door. None of your reasons were clear now though, all of them jumbling together, tangling up into an indistinguishable mess in your mind that only led to one statement that you weren’t sure if it even properly captured everything you needed to say to him. 

“I never want to spend Christmas without you, Auston.” 

There was so much unsaid, so many things Auston had been feeling since you walked out with a box of your things, leaving him with nothing of you but his memories, the photos on his phone, the gifts he’d picked out for you but never got to give you, and a dread of the holiday he had come to love with you. There was so much those nine words didn’t cover, so much hurt and agony underneath them. But fuck if they weren’t the prettiest bandage Auston had ever seen in his life. 

“I never want to spend Christmas with you either,” Auston breathed out, words spoken with relief so real and honest you felt like you could touch it.

You adjusted the duffle bag in your hand, shifting it from your left to your right as you looked at Auston. He looked horrible, dark circles under his eyes, a hollowness in his cheeks, but his eyes were so hopeful looking at you now, bright and deep, exactly like he looked the day you fell into him for the first time and decided to stay. His eyes were like Christmas morning, a beautiful promise breaking through the heaviness of a December that carried pain it wasn’t supposed to understand. You took a deep breath and hoped nine words, hope, and a little Christmas miracle were on your side. 

“Baby, can I come home for Christmas?” 

Auston didn’t hesitate. He knew his answer through and through, “Only if you stay for every Christmas forever.” 

You felt the tears sting your eyes as you stepped toward him, head nodding up and down as you accepted his terms. You thought you could handle being without him if it meant all of the negativity you felt from other people was no longer a factor. Except you couldn’t have been more wrong. People were still mean. The world still had a lot of darkness in it. All you had done by leaving him was create more darkness for yourself when his love and the light it brought left with him. Crawling back into his arms, feeling the familiar warmth of his chest, you felt his love wrap around you tightly, and your world became just a little brighter again. 

“I love you and I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into his ugly sweater covered chest. 

“Shh,” he mumbled softly into your hair. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re home for Chrismtas.”

You squeezed him impossibly tighter because if you let go, he might slip through your fingers like smoke, a figment of your imagination evaporating in front of you. You clung to him and he held you just as firmly, fearing the same thing, fearing his Christmas miracle would cease to be real if he wasn’t holding you. Hell, you weren’t a Christmas miracle. You were the best thing he had ever gotten in his entire life, the best gift the universe ever gave him. This year for Christmas, Auston Matthews lost you and got you back. While he could’ve done without the losing you part, he had you back. You were right here, in his arms, where you belonged and Auston Matthews wouldn’t be spending Christmas without you. He never had to spend another Christmas without you, the real Christmas miracle, the fact that his Christmases would forever include you now. 

You were home for Christmas. You were home for forever. Home was Auston and Christmas just isn’t Christmas with thousands of miles between you and your heart. But you were holding him now and you knew that waking up in his arms on Christmas morning was the only way you ever wanted to wake up for every Christmas in the future, starting with the one coming in a few short hours that you knew would make you crave the next one as soon as it finished. 

You loved him. He loved you. Love was inherently complicated, the joining of two people. Christmas uncomplicated it all, boiled everything down to the most simple thing possible; Auston Matthews was your person, and you wanted to share every Christmas with him. So, you walked into the house and started with this one.

[sorryimanon]

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending  quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

-

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state. 

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before  draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

[stacispratt]

glorious fire

big thank u to @coffeebucko​ without whomst this fic would not exist <3 thank u for chatting with me about stacijacob & also putting your eyeballs on the first draft of this thing!! without further ado here’s jacob asking how staci would kill him as foreplay

also posted on ao3!

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“When you fantasize about escaping,” Jacob says, as he looks up from his Chosens' reports to rest his eyes on Pratt's rigid form, “how do you do it?”

Pratt, sitting on Jacob's bed, in the middle of scribbling notes on his clipboard, only locks up stares at him. His eyes are wide, knuckles white, like he can’t believe Jacob is even asking— he thinks it’s a loyalty test. It’s as plain as day on his face. He stays quiet, manages to slip the pen into the top of the clipboard despite shaky hands. He's thinking up the perfect response, the perfect string of words to please Jacob, to make him secure in Pratt's loyalty. His fear. 

That's not what he's looking for. Jacob’s not fucking stupid. No man in his right mind would think Pratt is loyal to him or Eden's Gate.

Silence sinks between them. The air sucks out of the room like a thunderstorm is about to break out, localized to just Jacob's bedroom, until Pratt looks like he might start to hyperventilate.  

But Jacob Seed doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t ask again. 

Instead, he sighs long and deep, and leans back in his chair. Looks back down to his records, though he doesn't read them. “When we were kids—Joseph, John, and me—we had some foster parents who worked us like dogs on their farm. Wouldn’t let us in the house, made us sleep in the barn." He taps his pen. "Beat us, too. Was doin’ my best to take the brunt of it, but one day I saw some bruises on John, even though he was just a damn baby.” Jacob pauses, glances over to Pratt, gauges his reaction. He's blank as stone, though there's something twitching in the corner of his mouth. Jacob hums once and sets his papers down. “So I burned the fucking barn down.”

He fixes his eyes decidedly on Pratt now, gaze hard and focused. Pratt's watching him back, like maybe he understands. Like maybe he knows better who Jacob is. What makes him tick, that— that what makes Jacob tick makes him tick, too.

“So, Peaches,” he says. “What barn are you burning?”

Pratt swallows so loud it clicks. Then he says, “I'd kill you while I shave your throat,” and Jacob smiles. He's not looking at Jacob anymore, he's staring at the floor— maybe the bloodstain on the unfinished concrete from when Jacob gave him the cut that now traces down the line of his cheek. His hands stay behind his back obediently, but his shoulders flex like maybe he's fiddling with his fingers. Weak, but Jacob can let it slide, so long as Pratt keeps outlining his escape plan. "And after– after you bleed out I'd disguise myself as a Chosen and escape."

Pratt's eyes fuzz out as he recalls his escape plan. It's not his realistic one, not a real plan. Jacob has seen him eye the weekly truck deliveries, sneak glances at the rotating guard schedule. Good. He's not stupid enough to tell Jacob his real plan. Just his favorite fantasy.

Jacob brings his hand to his face and rubs his mouth. "After. After I bleed out." He doesn't take his eyes off Pratt as his eyes rise from the floor to Jacob's face— first his finger perched on his lips, then to his eyes. He looks frightened, but not in the way he was at first. He doesn't look frightened of Jacob himself. More like he's frightened of his own thoughts, his own desires.

The thought has delight curling in Jacob's stomach. 

"Yes," Pratt husks. "Yes, I have things to… to say."

An honest to God smile pulls up the corner of his mouth. Jacob is careful to cover it with his hand. "Like what?"

After a moment, Pratt says, "I guess you'll have to find out," his muscles tense like he's ready to bolt.

Jacob's smile widens into a grin. He fucking laughs. "Guess I will, Peaches," he croons, as he taps his finger to his lips, just once. "When you get the guts to dig in the knife, I guess I will." He hesitates, smile fading, then prompts, "Show me how you'd do it."

Pratt's jaw closes so tightly the muscle visibly flexes. Controlling himself, his gut reaction, but right after he does, he pries his mouth open and chokes out, "How I'd—?"

"Kill me," Jacob finishes for him, as he stands and comes around his desk. His arms fall to his sides, while Pratt's come up to his chest defensively. Jacob only hums and tugs his desk's metal chair into the center of the room. Over the old blood stain. "Come here."

He waits until Pratt steps forward to sit, then unsheathes his hunting knife from its holster on his thigh and offers it over his shoulder without looking. 

Pratt hesitates for a heartbeat, then all at once swipes the knife from Jacob and presses it near instantly to his throat. Not hard, though— he'll need to press harder to kill Jacob.

But he never will.

Of course he won't. Jacob knows Pratt, and he won't. He'll never kill Jacob. He doesn't have it in him.

That's why he's never done it before when shaving Jacob. That's why he didn't do it in front of the Deputy. That's why he won't do it now. That's why it's only something Pratt thinks about late at night, lying on the dirt in a cage outside, when nightmares keep him awake.

Pratt takes a shuddering breath. Jacob tips his chin up in offering. He pulls the knife in toward him, and there's just enough bite to tell Jacob that Pratt actually managed to nick him. Warmth trickles down through the stubble on his throat and settles in the dip of his collarbone. 

Jacob clucks. "Not a bad spot, if you'd actually make the slice." He grabs hold of Pratt's wrist and yanks the blade up his throat— hard enough that he can feel the skin go red and irritated, with blood vessels burst just under his first layer of skin. Pratt's hand trembles under his, flutters around the knife handle. "But you won't have any time to whine and cry at me if you get my artery. You'd have to cut…" he trails off for a moment while he guides Pratt's hand through the killing motion, glides the knife oh-so-gently across his vulnerable throat. "Just here if you want time to watch the light leave my eyes, Peaches."

Pratt's breath hitches audibly. Jacob adds, "Would even leave me the air to give you a little conversation, if you like." When there's no response, Jacob drops his hand to his lap and prompts, "Your turn, Pratt. Make the fucking cut."

Pratt still doesn't speak. Jacob insists, "Escape. Don't you want to? Don't you want to crawl to the Whitetails, beg and plead them to help you now that you've killed the Big Bad Wolf?"

The knife rocks against his throat as Pratt readjusts his grip. There's more pressure against his skin for just a moment, almost enough to make him bleed again, and then Pratt lifts the blade away from him, drops it to the floor, and steps back.

Jacob lets Pratt feel the silence for a few heartbeats. Then he stands, retrieves his knife, and straightens his back to look at Pratt. He doesn't smile this time, just steps forward to Pratt's figure, still as stone, and gently pinches his jaw between his thumb and first two fingers.

He doesn't speak until Pratt's damp eyes rise to meet his.

"You understand, don't you?" he murmurs. "You're a smart boy." Pratt nods, jerky as if he's controlled by broken machinery. Jacob strokes his jaw with the tip of his pointer finger. "Good. You're mine. And nobody else in this county— no Whitetail, no Hope County Cougar, no piece of their Resistance— is ever going to take care of you the way I do."

They breathe together for a few moments. Pratt's eyes have fallen shut, though tears still glisten at the corners and along his lashes. Jacob thinks absently how he wants to make Pratt cry until there's no more tears left in him— until there's no horror left worse than anything he's already felt.

"There's nothing for you out there," Jacob says. Promises. Reassures. "There's only me."

Pratt doesn't say a word, but Jacob hears him all the same:

Only you.

Jacob lingers. Strokes his thumb over Pratt's lip.

Pratt opens his eyes at the sensation, stares up with those wide brown eyes— Jacob exhales softly and sinks down to press their lips together. Slides his thumb out of the way just in time, drags the corner of Pratt's mouth down as he slots their lips together. Pratt's breath shakes out of him. Jacob swallows it up.

"Staci," he murmurs, and clenches his hands on Pratt's hip and the back of his neck when he shudders in response. Jacob holds him steady, no longer kissing him, though their lips still brush. He doesn't move. He waits for Pratt.

Who takes one more halted, shivery breath, then steps abruptly back from Jacob.  He dips his head to escape Jacob's hold on his neck, then just stands there, three feet from him. Jacob hums. Runs his hand over his beard and rubs his knuckle into his chin. "Staci," he repeats, and it instantly draws Pratt's eyes to his— Jacob's never used his first name until now, and it's having just the effect Jacob hoped it would. He holds his gaze and doesn't move closer. Lets Pratt keep his distance. "We're all we can rely on. That's why we cull the herd. That's why we need to train them."

Pratt stares at him. Jacob can see the cogs turning in his mind. Can see him grinding up the we, trying to process it. Make it digestible. 

"Together," Jacob adds, without looking away. After a moment, he steps forward, pats Pratt's cheek, then steps to the door and twists the handle. "Bring me a report on the Bliss supplies by ten. See you tonight, Peaches."

Alone in Jacob's bedroom, Staci brushes his middle finger over the developing scar on his right cheek. He follows it down to his mouth, and presses his first knuckle to his lips.

Staci, Jacob says in his mind, Together.

[chemist-ana]

Chapter 13 The Morning After— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Vivan and Mason Dalton

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N I know there are a lot of people that do not like Sam Dalton- that being said, this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, because I am trying to give him a redeeming character arc. As a person that is involved with the family business, I can understand to a degree where he is coming from with the guilt and what he chooses some of the decisions he does. BUT please do not forgot that MC is culpable and definitely at fault as well. There are definitely some cringe worthy things in this chapter- but I hope y'all love it! Also a super big thank you for @txemrn for talking me through some of these ideas and for being the queen of angst. Love you p.

Summary: In the cold light of day, will you and Ana be able to face the consequences of your actions?

Word Count: 5800

Tag List:  @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383 @chrissythadon @shannonwrote @jerzwriter

The sound of my footsteps, my labored breathing, and the early morning traffic are the only sounds in my ears, as I push my legs faster through Central Park. I reach up and wipe at the sweat that is beading on my brow, silently cursing the wretched New York, humid, summer mornings.

I usually run with music blasting in my ears… but I decided this morning to torture myself, and I can’t decide whether its working. The sounds of Ana’s moans echo through my mind, as steady as my heart beats. I see a gorgeous blonde running towards me and I give her a crooked smile as our eyes connect. She just about trips on the pavement before composing herself mid stride and continues past me, avoiding my gaze.

Well that didn’t help.

I push myself harder in the last few hundred yards of my run, and when my building finally comes into view, I slow down to a walk, reaching my arms up to catch my breath.

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” The morning doorman greets as he opens the door to the lobby for me.

“Thanks, Felix.” I nod as I breeze past him, waving my keycard at the scanner to my penthouse elevator.

When the door dings open, I hold my breath as I walk quietly through the still living room, everyone is still sleeping. I stop outside of Ana’s door. Resting my hands on her door frame and closing my eyes. I take a deep breath, what the fuck happened last night… I walk into my master bathroom, turning the shower water on cold.

My brain delves into the guilt that is sitting heavy on my shoulders. The guilt that I have for the years I spent fucking off in college instead of setting myself up for my future. The guilt I have for losing Eva. The guilt I have for hiring Ana… And now to add more… the guilt that I have for fucking her last night. What the fuck were you thinking? I tilt my head up into the cold water, letting the shock send a shudder down my spine.

My life has revolved around this family business… watching the countless hours my father has spent building it from nothing into this global conglomerate. The knowledge that one day, this would all be mine. The endless chiding from my father to fit into his mold of what the perfect CEO would be. Married with children. I have truly never been in control of my life… even when I married Eva. I thought she was the one… but now that I have Ana… stop it you fool, you don’t have Ana… she deserves better than your spineless tricks. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am i doing? I reach up and rest my hands on the shower wall, letting my head lull forward.

What the fuck happens next?

***

“Good morning.” I greet the twins and Ana as I round the corner into the kitchen.

“Morning, dad.” The boys look at me with defeated looks, I’m guessing it has something to do with the beige mush in their bowls.

I cast a quick glance at Ana as a blush creeps up her neck.

“Ana? Are you alright?”

She shakes her head slightly before looking at me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about last night.” Her eyes linger on mine.

The all too clear memory of her moans and the feel of her body come flooding back into my mind again, but I quickly shove them away as I stare back at her.

“Yeah! Carter said you went to that fancy party thing with Dad!” My eyes flick to Mason as he sets his spoon down.

“Did you pull any pranks?” Mickey asks with a smile.

“Not this time. Maybe we just needed someone to show us how it’s done.” I look between them.

“I’d rather stay home and eat pizza, thanks!” Mickey’s eyes grow wide as he takes another bite of his mush, god that doesn’t look good at all.

I grab a cup of coffee and turn to walk towards my office.

“Can we talk later?” Ana whispers as she leans in close to me.

My stomach drops and I feel my body stiffen. I don’t spare her a glance before answering. “… Yes. Later.”

Without another word I head to my home office, leaving a stunned Ana behind. I can feel her gaze as I round the corner and close the door quietly behind me.

I don't know what to say to you yet, Ana…

I sit down in my Wegner chair, switching the Tiffany Lamp on. I rub my hands down my face with a sigh. The silence is broken by the ringing of my cell phone, I glance down and my fathers name is flashing on the screen.

“Hey, dad.” I set my phone on my desk and turned it on speaker.

“Sam, things in Italy are not clearing up. I need you there to fix this mess.”

I let out a sharp exhale through my teeth and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“This is pretty short notice.”

“After what happened in Milan, LEMA is having some hesitations as to our abilities to run a company that handles sensitive medical information. I don't think I need to tell you how important this deal is. We need to take care of this ourselves, unless you want me to send Robin?” I can hear the challenge in his voice as my chest constricts.

“How long do you think I will be there?” I ask, avoiding his antagonizing, my mind flashing to the boys… and then to Ana..

“Does it matter, Sam? As long as it takes. I already spoke with Sofia, she is going to go with you. I have some briefs and copies of all the contracts being sent to your office now. You will need to read them all to get caught up. I also scheduled you the jet for tomorrow morning.”

My head falls back as I close my eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah, dad, I heard you. I will be there soon.”

“I’ll be in your office at noon.” He ends the call.

I glance down at my watch, it's already 11.  FUCK.

I look at my office door, time to do whatever needs to be done.

I walk quietly through the penthouse, running over the words in my head. I hear the twins in their room, and I decide to start with them. When I see Ana putting their laundry away, my breath gets caught in my throat. At least you only have to say this once…

“I’m about to go into the office, but I wanted to talk to you first.” I say as I walk into their room.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Ana turns towards me. I move further into the twins room and take a seat on the edge of the lower bunk bed. Mason and Mickey stand in front of me.

“What’s wrong, Dad? You look sad…” Mason’s face drops when he notices my crestfallen expression.

“I’m not… sad. I just know you’re not going to like what I have to say.” I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

“Then you gotta just rip it off. Like a Band-Aid.” Mickey smiles.

“Right, like a Band-Aid.” I keep my eyes fixed on the twins but I can feel the heat from Ana’s gaze. “I have to go to Italy for a business trip… as soon as possible.”

A silence settles over the room as the twins look between themselves..

“What? You’re fleeing the country, just like that?” Ana breaks the palpable silence.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘fleeing’. Dalton Enterprises has been in negotiations for months, and after the Milan breach… well my dad just doesn’t trust anyone else to handle it.”

“What about us?” Mason murmurs sadly.

“Aunt Sofia isn’t staying here, is she?” Mickey's eyes are wide.

“No, she’ll be in Naples with me. But don’t worry, you won’t be alone. You’ll have Ana.” I turn to  face Ana and her gaze is focused on the twins, but I can see the hurt in her emerald eyes.

“Let’s not overreact here. It’s just a flight and some meetings, right? I bet your dad will be back before you know it.” A smile trains on the corners on her lips as she tries to brighten the mood.

I wish that was all…

“Actually… depending on the negotiations, I could be gone a couple months.”

“A couple months?” Mickey shouts.

“But… that’s the rest of summer.”  I look at Mason and see only one thing: disappointment.

“Seriously, Sam? That’s so long! For the boys I mean.” Her eyes fall to the floor.

“My parents were often overseas for months at a time when I was younger. They’ll survive.” I hate the words as they leave my lips.

“But don't you want them to do more than just survive?” She looks up at me in concern.

“I’m trying to not let emotions cloud my judgement here. I don't have a choice in the matter.” I clench my jaw.

“You always have a choice, Sam.” Her eyes hold mine.

I take a deep breath turning my attention back to the twins.

“Can we at least come visit you while you’re gone?” Mason is picking at a piece of string that is fraying from his blanket.

“Of course, buddy. I’m sure we can work something out. In the meantime, why doesn’t Ana take you two out for the day?” I rest my hands on the twins' shoulders. “I’ve got to prepare for my trip, but we’ll have a special dinner tonight before I go. Promise.” I wrap my arms around them and bring them tight to my sides. I wish I didn't have to leave you… someday you will understand. I hope.

I walk out of the twins room, avoiding the heat from Ana’s gaze as she watches me.

***

The words all run together as I sit at my desk and try to read the briefs from Italy. My office door opens and my eyes meet my fathers’s as he strolls in and sits in the leather chair in front of me.

“Did you read all of those?” He asks gruffly, his eyes flicking down to the papers that are strewn across my desk.

I collect all of them into a stack as I avoid his gaze. “I got the jist.”

A silence settles between us and I can feel his eyes trained on me. When I finally raise my gaze, he narrows his eyes and his mouth sets in a thin line. “What’s going on with you, Sam?”

“Nothing, Dad, I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Don’t insult me, I know you better than that. You are distracted, you have been since your mother and I got back from Italy. Have you been drinking too much again?”

I raise my brow at him incredulously. “Dad.”

“Is it that pretty nanny of yours?” He says mockingly.

My eyes fall to the stack of papers.

“Oh, son. Really?”

“No, dad, it-it’s not her.” Boy that wasn't very convincing.

“Yes it is. I know that look.” A long silence stretches and I avoid his gaze. “Remember Pam?”

I meet his eyes.  “Aunt Pam, your old secretary?”

He purses his lips and nods. He takes a deep breath, clearly warring with what he wants to say next. “It only lasted a few months, and your mother knows nothing about this.”

“Wait, you had an affair?”

“It’s not something I am proud of. But let me tell you something. Women like her, and your nanny…” He waves his hand dismissively. “Are only good for one thing, son.” He leans forward in his chair and arches his brow. “And it’s not making you the man that you need to be to run this company.” He leans back, steepling his fingers on his knees. “Now, a woman like Sofia, that is who is going to take you far in life, and bring you where you need to be.”

I’m fucking speechless. I can’t defend my honor, or Ana’s.  Because what if he’s right?

***

My phone dings with a text, Ana.

Ana: Heading back, ETA 20 min

Ana: You need us to pick anything up on our way?

Ana: Or do you have the special dinner all planned out?

Fuck. I’m not getting out of here for at least another hour.

Sam: About that…

Ana: Why am I not surprised? This is becoming your MO.

I clench my jaw.

Sam: What’s that supposed to mean?

Ana: You’re a smart man. Figure it out.

I whisper a quiet fuck and I see Robin’s head snap up.

“Trouble at home?” He asks, as a cocky smile spreads across his face.

I ignore him.

Sam: Ana…

Ana: I’ll take care of dinner for the boys sake. But you’d better come up with an AMAZING apology dessert for them.

Sam: I am sorry to bail on this

Sam: I will bring something home for dessert.

Sam: Okay?

She doesn't respond, and I pinch my eyes closed in frustration.

I turn back to the final pages of the contract with LEMA before sighing and throwing it to the table.

“Find anything?” Robin asks.

“No. And I need to go home. I need to spend what little time I have left in the city with the boys.”

“Go, I will make sure all of this makes it onto the jet tomorrow morning.” Robin leans back in his chair. “You know dad wants me with you tomorrow, right?”

I stop in my tracks and slowly turn to him. “No. I was not aware of that.”

He shrugs his shoulders and crosses his leg over his knee. “Now you do.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, and decide against saying anything else. Can just one thing go my way today? I grab my keys and phone, stuffing them into my pocket. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See ya.” He waves as I walk out of the door.

***

I walk into the foyer with my suitcase, setting it next to the elevator doors just as they ding open and Ana, Mason, and Mickey step out.

“Welcome back. Did you three have fun at the museum?” My eyes are locked on Ana, sadness filling her emerald eyes. My chest constricts as my thoughts are haunted by my fathers confession.

“The museum was alright but dinner was even better! We stopped at a food truck festival on the way home.” Mickey chimes.

“I tried a poke bowl!” Mason is vibrating with excitement.

“Really? Did you like it?” I ask him, surprised.

“It was amazing!” Mason cheered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“And we got something for you!” Mickey gestures to the bag in Ana’s hands.

“That was thoughtful of you.” I look at Ana as she hands me the bag, not meeting my gaze.

“It was their idea.” She murmurs looking down at the boys.

I look inside of the paper bag, Kung Pao… god it's my favorite. “I love Kung Pao. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.” Her tone is even and neutral. Distant.

“Right.” I take a breath, clearing my throat and turning back to the boys.

“Why don’t you two wash your hands, then head into the kitchen for your special dessert?” The boy's eyes widened.

“On it!” They race toward the bathroom, leaving Ana and I alone in the hallway. Still avoiding my eyes, she breezes past me into the kitchen. I follow her slowly, watching the soft sway of her hips.

“Ana.” She stops in her tracks and I see her shoulders tense.

“Yes?” She slowly turns towards me.

“Thank you for dinner, for both me and the boys. I shouldn’t have backed out of my promise to have a special meal with them.” My apology comes out even and measured as I watch her carefully.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She says matter of factly, her eyes finally rising to mine. She sighs softly. “And you’re welcome.”

“It really looks delicious.” I set the container on the counter, taking a big bite with a fork. My eyes are trained on hers and I can see her face soften.

“You’ve got a little…” She grabs a napkin, stepping up slowly and reaching up to wipe at my lip.

The smell of jasmine and Ana fill my senses as our breath mixes in the air between us.

“Oh…” I whisper in surprise at the intimate gesture.

“... All better.” She smiles softly up at me, her emerald eyes piercing. An electric charge lingering in the space between us.

The moment is broken when we hear the boys running towards us in the kitchen. She takes a step back, turning away from me.

“Dessert time!” Mickey cheers as he slides into the kitchen.

“What’re we having?” Mason shifts from foot to foot.

“I thought you’d like to make some s’mores…” I know they are your favorite.

“With the mega-big marshmallows?” Mickey’s eyes grow wide. God, I am going to miss these kids…

“Of course.” I match his smile and gesture towards the platter of s’mores supplies laid out on the counter.

“I’ll, uh, leave you three to it.” Ana says softly as she slowly backs out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even had s'mores yet!” Mason turns to Ana.

“I don’t want to intrude on father-son bonding time with your last night together.” She smiles softly at Mason.

“You wouldn’t be intruding.” I say hopefully. Please stay…

“Still… you should have some privacy.” She holds my eyes for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the room. What have I done?

***

I am sitting in the dim lighting of my office. My fingers wrapped around a glass of Eagle Rare Bourbon as I gaze out of the window. My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I bring the tumbler to my lips.  I hear the door open slowly and I glance over to see Ana enter quietly, clicking the door shut behind her.

“I thought I might see you again tonight.” I say as I turn my focus back towards the city lights outside.

“Sam, we need to talk about us.”

I can sense the sadness behind her words.

“Ana…” I sigh as I look at her with regret.

I see her shoulders tense as she balls her hands up into fists at her side. Red hot color rising on her cheeks.

“You owe me this, Sam. Don’t pretend like you don’t.” Anger drips from her every word.

I take a deep breath and give her a small nod, but I have no words. I get lost in my own thoughts again... You’re right… but I have no idea what to say to you. There is nothing I can do about this fucked up situation I put us in… I am so sorry that I dragged you into this mess. I am a selfish man that longs to be with you… but I have no control.

“We had sex last night, Sam.” Her voice cracks.

My chest tightens.

“I haven’t forgotten.” My eyes still trained on the city lights outside.

“It feels like you want to. In fact, it feels like you’re running halfway around the world because of it.”

My breathing gets shallow as she takes a step towards me, the anger rolling off of her in waves.

“You’re a lot of things, Sam, but I never took you for a coward.” Her voice laced with contempt as she stepped in front of me.

My eyes flick to hers as a new emotion bubbles to the surface: anger.

“A coward?” I whisper as I lift to my feet and we stand face-to-face.

“You heard me.” She tips her nose in the air. “You could have walked away last night.”

I can't help the humorless laugh that escapes my lips. How does she not understand that I cannot control myself around her?

“I wish that were true.” It would make my life a whole hell of a lot easier. God help me, I can’t resist you.I reach up and run my fingertips down her cheek, watching her shudder at my touch, but her expression remains guarded and angry.. “I’ve been trying to walk away from you since the moment we met. Yet somehow… I always end up back here.”

She steps back out of my reach, crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes scan down the length of her body.

“That’s not good enough, Sam.” Her eyes bore into mine.

God Dammit woman.

“Let’s get one thing straight here, Ana. The timing of this trip may seem suspicious to you, but I don’t want to go. I have to go.” I take a step toward her, narrowing my eyes. “And every time I look at you, it’s a reminder of what I’m leaving behind.”

Her eyes widen as her anger starts to slip. “Really? You aren’t relieved to have an escape?”

“No! This is so much worse.” I take a deep breath, trying to reign in my anger. My urge to control her and have her bare before me is making my cock twitch.  I watch as Ana turns and steps to the window. The war inside of my head battles on before I finally give in. I step up behind her, running my nose along the sensitive skin below her ear before grabbing her hips and pulling her against me. I feel her body melt into mine. She turns to face me, and I place my hands on either side of her head, the cold glass a welcome reprieve from the heat coursing through my veins. I press my desire against her and I watch as her eyes darken.

“Sam, you should fire me now.” She whispers. “Neither one of us has the strength to resist. Stopping cold turkey is the only answer. You go to Italy, conquer the business world, marry Sofia. I’ll move out and find something else. We both walk away, hands clean. Well… as clean as they can be.”

I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t believe the words she is saying, but it doesn't stop them from stinging my heart.

“My hands aren’t clean, Ana. How can they be, when I think about you every time I touch myself?” My eyes flick down to her plump, pink lips. “Or when I want to murder the next man who touches you?”

“Then what’s the endgame here? What do you want?” She pleads, her eyes shining in the dim light.

“I want you, dammit.” I confess.

She grabs the lapels of my suit and pulls me even closer to her curves,

“Prove it.” She challenges, her eyes dark.

She brings her lips to mine and our lips ignite into a frenzy of heat and frustration. I bring my arms around to her lower back and pull her hips snug to mine. A sudden feeling of regret passes through my mind and I pull back, a question in my eyes.

“Ana…” I warn.

“Don’t think. Just feel.” She purrs as she pushes my jacket off of my shoulders. She runs her fingernails across the back of my neck softly before pulling my lips down to hers again. I grab her hips, spinning her around and pinning her back against the cold glass of the window. She gasps at the sensation as I grab her wrists and pin them over her head. I use my free hand to roam the planes of her curves, her body igniting under my touch.

“Sam...” She moans as her eyes flutter shut.

I find the hem of her shirt and dive underneath, finding the lace of her bra, I run my fingers along the gentle curve of her breasts. Her chest heaving and pushing her perfect body into my eager hands.

“Has it really only been a day since I last touched you like this?” I whisper against her lips. “Already feels like a lifetime ago…”

She arches her back, pressing deeper into me as I let out an involuntary moan. God the things this woman does to me…

“Can you really go the rest of the summer without this?” I can feel her smile against my lips.

“I can’t even go the next five minutes without it.” I admit as my cock hardens uncomfortably in my pants.

I reach down and cup her ass, picking her up and carrying her to my desk. I sweep everything off of my desk and lay her down. Her emerald eyes dark with desire as she watches me remove every article of her clothing, throwing them haphazardly around the room. Her chest rises and falls, and her lips are swollen with our kisses. I kiss each piece of newly exposed flesh, the soft moans coming from her lips a sound of pleasure and surrender.

“God, I want to eat you up…” I say against her hip. She looks down at me and takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’ve gotta earn that privilege.” A challenge in her eyes as she sits up and places her hands on my chest, pushing me away from her. Her nearly naked body glowing in the colored light from the Tiffany Lamp.

“Ana?” I ask.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Sam.” She purrs. “And you know what that means, I’m going to tie you up.”

“Fuck.” I whisper and her words send another surge of heat and desire through me. I watch as she gracefully slides off of the desk, motioning for me to sit down in my chair.

“Wait. Undress first.”  She leans in and skims her fingers across my chest, then tugs lightly on the flap of my shirt. “I don't want to have to deal with this later.”

You naughty, fucking minx.

I quickly strip off my clothes, my eyes never leaving hers as I take a seat in my chair, resting my arms on the armrests. I watch her carefully as she digs through a drawer in my desk, pulling two spare computer cords out. I watch as her steady hands tie my forearms and wrists to the chair. My eyes travel across her barely clothed body and I think of all the things I wish to do to her perfect ass.

She steps back, a look of pride flashing across her eyes.

“Aren’t you a sight?” She smiles as she looks at me hungrily.

“Ana…” I murmur.

I tried to move my arms, but she did a damn good job tying me down.

“This isn’t fair. I want to touch you.”

“Oh… You want to talk about not fair?” She clenches her jaw as she saunters up to me, the movement of her hips accentuated by the delicate fabric. “Everything that’s happened today hasn’t been fair.” Her eyes narrow at me as she leans towards me. She is careful not to touch me but I can feel the electricity crackling between us. Her perfect breasts are right in front of my face and I know she can feel my hot breath against them. “And now you’re being punished for it.”  She stands up and gracefully hops back up onto my desk.

She leans back, spreading her legs wide open, revealing every single perfect inch of her perfect body to me. I watch her fingers slide down her curves until they come to rest between her legs, slipping underneath her panties to rub at her center.

Fuck me.

“Ohmygod…” I moan as my cock hardens more than I even thought possible. The throbbing is almost unbearable as I watch her fingers spread the moisture that is pooling in between her legs. Her head lulls back as moans escape her lips.

“Ohh, YES!” She cries out, her body tensing.

My eyes are trained on her perfect cunt as she worships it with her fingers. My breathing is growing labored as I think about all the things I want to do. Her hips are bucking as she nears her edge.

“Ana, please…. Let me touch you.” I beg, my voice husky. I can’t help but lick my lips as I think about her sweetness.

Her eyes open and her fingers slow as she considers me.

“I don't know… Have you been punished enough yet?” She smiles.

“No… but I can’t make it up to you properly unless you let me touch you. Please.” I am not above begging at this point.

She leans forward, and I watch her untie the cords from my wrists. As soon as I can tell that I am free, I reach up, grabbing her body and hauling it into mine. I bring my lips to hers and kiss her deeply, tasting her, reveling in the feel of our tongues together. I stand up, pressing her back down on the desk and I grab the delicate lace of her panties and push them down her thighs.

“I haven't been able to think about anything else all day…” I whisper against her lips. I can feel her smile. “You drive me to distraction even when you aren’t spread out in front of me…”

“And now?” She asks as she arches her back up off the desk.

I trace a delicate line up her bare legs, slowly teasing my way to her center.

“And now… I can barely control myself. I want to devour you.” I growl.

She leans back and spreads her legs wider.

I stand up and run my eyes slowly over every single piece of her exposed flesh, she blushes that delicious color.

The most beautiful thing I have ever fucking scene.

“Yes… I love seeing you open like this for me.” I murmur as my eyes scan her body over and over again, lingering on her exposed cunt.

I drop to my knees, and lower my mouth between her thighs as I lap up her pooling moisture. I watch as her eyes flutter closed, her eyelashes laying like fans across her cheeks. Her breathing intensities and her moans echo around the room. She calls out my name in ecstasy.

“If you want me to make this up to you properly, then you can’t come yet.” I challenge her. “Can you do that, Ana? Can you hold back until I tell you?” I punctuate my question with a devilish twirl of my tongue and she gasps.

“Yes! Sam… bring it on. I can take whatever you have to give. Don’t hold back.” She is panting and her perfect cunt is dripping for me. Her eyes find mine and I can see the challenge accepted. Good girl.

I trail kisses back to her center, dipping and tasting her pooling wetness. So fucking sweet. Her body shivers as I continue to flick my tongue against her. I reach down and grab my aching cock, running my hand up and down the throbbing shaft.

“Oh god… I’m gonna…” Her body starts to tense and my pumping increases.

“Already? I thought you said you could take it.” I say, my lips moving against her.

I feel her body tremble as she moans.

“Ohmygod, that feels… Sam, don’t stop.”

Never, beautiful. I will never stop doing this to you.

I groan out her name as the pleasure in my body nears the edge, my tongue continuing to flick at her exposed flesh. I call out her name as I find my release and I feel her body tense as she cries out mine. We ride out each other's orgasm, ecstasy blinding me.

Eventually her body sags against the desk, her breathing rapid. I stand up and wrap my arms around her body, bringing her tight to me as our breathing slows.

I untangle myself from her and we both stand and get dressed in a silence that is thick with tension.

The reality of what just happened hits me hard as I watch her button up her silk blouse.

Fuck. Again. No fucking control, Dalton, you total fuck up.

Without a word she moves towards the door, lingering with her hand on the door knob.

“Sam, I-”

“I’m sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to get so carried away. It won’t happen again.” I interrupt her, saying the only thing I can think of at this moment… words I regret as soon as they escape my lips.

I watch as confusion spreads across her face and she gives me a silent nod.

“My flight leaves early. I’ll be gone before you wake up…” I say softly.

“Oh. I see. I guess this is… goodbye.” She looks down at the floor, her fingers playing at the hem of her shirt. She wraps her arms around herself and slowly begins to slip out of the door.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. You deserve so much better than me.”

My words halt her in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder at me, and I see her eyes shining.

“I can decide what I ‘deserve’ for myself.” She walks out of the room without another word, and I am left even more pissed with myself than I was this morning. I sit down at my desk and run my hands through my hair.

She’s right… you are being a coward. I am avoiding this shit storm I created for myself by running away…

I sip another glass of bourbon as I come to the only solution I can think of: postpone my trip to Italy, and even though it will probably bite me in the ass… Ana and the boys have to come with me. My stomach sours at the thought of Robin getting a hand on this before me… but I shove the thought aside.

That's it.

***

I nurse my second cup of coffee as I watch the sunrise through the windows. I hear soft footsteps walking down the hallway and I swallow my nerves. Ana rounds the corner and stops short when she sees me, a glimmer of hope and surprise flashing through her eyes.

“Sam?! What’re you going here? I heard you leave this morning…”

“I did a lot of thinking last night, but I didn’t come to a conclusion in time to cancel my car earlier.” I try to control my excitement.

“What conclusion?” She asks carefully.

“That you were right. I was being a coward and running away from my problems. I sent Robin ahead and postponed my meetings to next week so I could do this right. I’m turning this business trip into a family vacation for all of us.” Her face lit up.

“You mean…” A smile playing on her lips.

“Pack your bags, Ana. You’re coming with me to Italy.”

[beyond-the-birthday-massacre]

Good Night (#little-butterfly-writes contest submission)

Heyy! I wrote the most fluffy self-insert entry I could muster for the #little-butterfly-writes contest hosted by @little-butterfly-writes! I haven’t written for self-inserts for a long time and I’ve forgotten how fun it is to be self-indulgent :)) 10/10 highly recommend you to write one too! I named my MC Athena so I’ll use that name :)  

Fandom: MLQC - Gavin & Athena 

Genre: Fluff 

Word Count: 1473 

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At last, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

The entire company had dealt with the high workload for weeks in order to meet the strict deadlines. The heavy pressure was finally off my shoulders after wrapping up the filming and editing for the big project. 

The office became more quiet as the crew members left for the day. Currently, I was one of the last people there, Minor being the other. For the past few weeks, we had always been the last ones. I underestimated him and his work ethic. He would say the same phrase around sunset: “Hey, Athena! It’s getting pretty late. Think we should call it a day?”

Every day, I would encourage him to head out first and every day, he’d insist we both leave together. 

Minor watched me lock the front doors, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So! Any plans for tonight?” he asked.

Rattling the handle, I murmured, “Not really…” Suddenly rewatching my favourite shows didn’t seem as appealing as it did when I had been busy. The temptation of procrastination vanished when I needed it the most.

Minor glanced at his phone screen. “That’s great! I’ll see ya later, boss!” With that, he walked away.

“Huh?” I stared at his shrinking figure until he turned the corner of the block. He really zoned out, but I didn’t blame him. His expression held nothing but pride and relief that the project was finally over.

***

When I got home, I turned on my laptop. Although Minor never failed to get me out of the office, he couldn’t stop me from working here. Everything was done but revising some materials wouldn’t hurt. Plus, I should look over the reports that I needed to submit next week. 

Frankly, I wasn’t sure how much time passed when I got up to take a long shower. After drying off, I grabbed the first comfortable thing in the closet and realized it was Gavin’s white T-shirt.

Gavin had left for a mission a few weeks ago. The mission was highly classified so I decided not to bother him for the duration of the time. My workload started piling up then and I distracted myself as best as I could. Now that work was out of the way, Gavin’s gentle eyes were back in my mind. When I imagined him smiling, I couldn’t help but do so myself. If I couldn’t see him soon, at least I could meet him in my dreams.

I turned off the light and pulled the covers to my chest, staring at the balcony window as I waited to drift off. There were traces of clouds across the glowing moon and I couldn’t bear to turn away from the serene view. It felt like I was staring at it for eternity until a shadow suddenly appeared. His amber eyes shone against the moonlight and the night wind rippled at his STF jacket, sweeping his hood down.

Before I knew it, I was already opening the balcony door, letting the chilly breeze spill in. “Gavin! You’re back!”

He nodded. Despite the time of day, Gavin didn’t look tired. In fact, with his steady composure and uniform, he looked like he was ready for another day at the Special Task Force. “Mm. The mission finished just now. I wanted to see you,” he said matter-of-factly. 

No matter how long I hadn’t heard his voice, it was distinct and recognizable. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I gave him a tight hug. It was then when I felt a sudden drop of temperature and I withdrew abruptly: “Geez, you’re freezing!”

Smiling, he tugged me close again, stroking my black hair. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. But you . . .” He furrowed his brow, noticing my loose-fitting ‘dress’. Even in the dim room, the familiar shade of red on his ears was evident. He shed his jacket and I tried to stop him, but he managed to wrap it around me.

“You need it more,” I insisted. “You’re gonna catch a cold.” 

“It’s alright. I have something better.”

His hand slipped into mine. I couldn’t help but hold it tighter in hopes of generating more warmth for him. I brought him to the bed and bundled the blanket around him.

“How long were you flying? You know it gets colder at night,” I scolded, embracing him as we laid over the pillows. He wasn’t shivering but I held him close, unwilling to let go.

He burrowed into my chest and I could feel his smile through the thin fabric. “I promise to be more careful next time.”

“You always say that! Especially about your injuries. Speaking of which, let me see them.” Before Gavin could react, I yanked the blanket away, inspecting his forearms and his torso. 

“Ahem, I’m-I’m okay, really,” he assured, his ears burning bright again when I pulled at his button up shirt. I only found old scars that had already been engraved into my memory. 

Gavin brought my restless hands to his face. His gaze towards me never wavered. “I’m telling you the truth,” he said earnestly and kissed the back of each hand. He wrapped the blanket around us, nuzzling into my chest again. 

Relief steadied my heartbeat until he looked up at me and spoke in a low tone: “Before I left for the mission, I swore I wouldn’t get injured.” He paused, pressing closer. “Do I get a reward for honouring this promise?” 

Whether he was intentionally giving me the subtle, big, ol’ puppy eyes or not, I couldn’t refuse. Brushing his soft, brown fringe back, I pecked his forehead. “There,” I said, a smile playing across my lips. “How’s that?”

He frowned and cleared his throat. “I also made sure not to skip any meals.”

I gave a peck on his cheek. 

“I kept my sleep schedule consistent too.”

“Eight hours?”

“Mm.” 

“Was it eight hours or not?”

He nuzzled deeper into the crook of my neck, hiding his expression. Gavin’s face seemed to have warmed up since his arrival. I started laughing when he playfully bit me.

“Okay, okay, I understand. Agent B-7 has a tight schedule and he works very hard. Here,” I leaned towards his mouth and he closed his eyes, waiting expectantly. His anticipation made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t resist messing with him. In the last second, I moved lower and pressed my lips to his own neck, nibbling it for good measure and for payback. 

His soft groan was barely audible before he pulled me back, pinning me down into the pillows. “I don’t think you’re being fair, Athena. Seems like you’ve forgotten about your own sleep schedule.”

I froze but I tried my best to keep my cool. “My sleep schedule is fine, thank you very much, Officer.”

Feigning doubt, he hummed. “I’m not sure. You’ve been working overtime ever since I left.” He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining mine for reaction. “If Minor hadn’t insisted any earlier, you’d be at the office until midnight every day.”

My eyes widened. “Minor?! Aw, why am I even surprised?” Now to think of it, Minor had started to work longer hours around the day of Gavin’s departure. All this time I was hoping it was because Minor had been engrossed with the Miracle Finder project, not because of a task assigned by Officer Gavin.

“It’s almost 1 am. I should’ve found you fast asleep by now. How do I know if this isn’t a bad habit of yours?” Gavin leaned in, his proximity repelled my fleeting thoughts. His blue and black uniform made him seem so much more intimidating. “So,” he murmured, “are you ready to confess?”

I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt, but his grin knocked down my wishful thinking. “Okay, okay. I lied. My schedule is terrible.”

“Mm.” Satisfied, he released his grip on my wrists. “Let me help you fix it. Is this okay?” He cradled me in his arms, snuggling close. “If not, I can count sheep with you again.”

I giggled, recalling that night with all the sheep. It felt like nothing yet everything had changed. Sighing contently, I leaned into his broad chest. His heartbeat was calm, lulling me to drowsiness. “I think it’s working,” I mumbled, “as always.”

Gavin chuckled as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. His steady gaze was genuine and pure. “I sleep better when I’m with you too.”

My eyelids grew heavy and with the last source of energy that I could gather, I lifted my head and kissed him. His lips were soft against mine and when his parted in shock, I deepened the kiss. I could hear his heartbeat racing as I slumped against him again. 

“There. For everything you’ve done for me.”

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Final notes: I hoped you like it! A lot of things have changed in the MLQC fandom, but I hope everyone is doing well! Reading/writing anything about comfort characters really helps me so I had fun writing this!

I also write for luciensgunsee in Instagram --- it’s mlqc x reader stuff so if you’re interested in that, do check it out! I might put the extended, uncut versions of those scenarios here in Tumblr?? If anyone is interested, please let me know :))

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Beware” - A GLOW Sequel

F/M pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin

Warnings: Smut, Language, and mentions of violence

Genre: Werewolf AU

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Oftentimes, Y/N is fine with Changbin’s insistence that she and their new pup stay protected inside the cabin. But just one night outside the camp should be okay, right?

A/N: Changbin as a dad. Thank you.

Let me preface my observation with this: after nine months of labor, I thought that I might return to my regular nights of sleeping for a comfortable nine hours before starting a fresh new day. However, it was wishful thinking because, as it turns out, raising a pup is the equivalent of permanent insomnia, and I was lucky to even close my eyes for a few minutes in between feedings. In actuality, it was Changbin’s fault that our pup slept between the two us every night - depriving us both of intimacy and the comforts of stretching out our limbs without a wriggling bed mate who tossed and turned at whim.

Changbin insisted that we should enjoy these moments because our pup will eventually grow older and no longer wish to share her parent’s bed. He also claimed that it made him feel better when his mate and daughter were close to him in case anything happened. Which I tried my best to understand. But the biggest problem was actually managing to calm down a rambunctious three-year-old to the point where she wasn’t demanding our attention.

Maybe it was the small portion of sweets that I had allowed her to consume at dinner, but Leah was treating her parents like they were glorified playgrounds. At one point, I had rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillows, hoping to dissuade her playful attacks. And when she only received a groan of complaint from her mother, Leah turned her attention to Changbin who was more than willing to entertain her childish imagination. 

“I’m gonna be an even better hunter than daddy!” Leah exclaimed, wrestling on top of Changbin as he allowed her to hold down his arms.

“You pinned me!” Changbin said in mock surprise, and I snorted around a laugh as I felt the exhaustion heavy in my limbs.

“I win!” Leah giggled, squealing when she was wrapped into Changbin’s arms. His lips pressed soft kisses to her glowing cheeks, and there was almost a feeling similar to jealousy burning in my chest when I thought about how long it had been since Changbin and I were intimate.

I groaned at the thought. How pathetic was I? Feeling that way because my daughter was receiving so much attention from her father?

Changbin eventually tucked Leah into the space between her parents with a gentle touch. “I think mommy’s tired, sweetheart,” Changbin said. “How about we all try to get some sleep?”

“Okay,” Leah whispered in return, and I would’ve felt endeared at her easy compliance if I didn’t already knew that Leah would likely wake-up again in a few hours because pups apparently operated on very strange sleep schedules.

In any case, I purred in delight when Changbin pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, whispering a muffled “I love you” against the skin.

“I love you both,” I said, closing my eyes because I was determined to get as much sleep as possible.

Changbin was gone for most of the following day - attending to his duties as the pack’s beta wolf. Meanwhile, I did my best to entertain my daughter - playing a variety of games while wondering if she might be more interested in something that required less exercise. However, perhaps it was good that I chased her around for most of the morning because Leah suddenly wanted to nap for once and I helped tuck her into bed.

“Is she sleeping?” Changbin asked from behind me, and I startled since I wasn’t expecting to hear him.

“Yeah,” I said. “Did you need something?”

“I left the evening patrols to Jisung,” he replied. 

“Really?” I asked with a mischievous smirk, leading him out of Leah’s bedroom and into the one we shared at the other end of the hallway. For the most part, Leah was agreeable with sleeping in her room during the day, even if she insisted that the imaginary monsters under her bed were too much during night. Which meant I received very few favorable opportunities to get Changbin alone like this.

I gently tugged on his shirt, pulling him into our bedroom. “How about you take care of me, daddy?” I asked, and Changbin growled before molding our lips together in a searing kiss. 

It didn’t take long for his hands to make a leisurely exploration of my body, tracing along my curves and shifting my clothes around to touch bare skin. “Shit, Y/N,” Changbin sighed, guiding one of my hands down to his bulging erection.

I smirked against his lips as I squeezed him through his pants. “Did you lock the door?” I whispered, moaning when his fingers crawled up the opening of my shorts. 

“Of course,” Changbin purred, jerking down my shorts before he lifted me over his shoulder. I gasped at the display of strength, shrieking when he landed a slap on my ass while carrying me to our bed. It was jolting when he threw me down onto the mattress, looking me over with narrowed eyes. “Take off your panties and spread your legs for me,” Changbin said, reaching down for his belt. “I want to see that pretty cunt all wet for my cock.”

I shivered at his dirty words, but it was hard to disobey the clear authority in Changbin’s voice as I quickly shoved my panties down my legs, holding my thighs apart so that I was exposed to him. “Binnie,” I cried, feeling a fresh wave of slick leak out of my core.

“Oh, shit, Y/N,” Changbin said, losing his jeans and underwear before jerking himself off with a tight fist. “Are you ready for me?”

“Fuck, yes,” I managed, feeling my entire body flush as he threw one of my legs over his shoulder, prodding the tip of his cock against my swollen cunt. He was gentle then - sinking into my expectant heat until the swell of his knot fit snugly against my opening.

“God, it’s been too long,” Changbin said, taking a deep breath like he was trying to resist the urge to fuck me hard into the mattress.

“It feels so good,” I said, bracing my hands on his shoulders as he gave an experimental thrust - dragging his cock perfectly along my tight walls.

“Hold still for me, babe,” he said, closing his eyes as he held tightly to my thighs, holding out my legs even further for a better angle at my pussy.

“Please just fuck me, Changbin,” I said, leaning up for another deep kiss. 

“If that’s what you want,” Changbin growled, and I was already trembling as he pressed his cock back inside of me at an impossible depth. His hips started rocking even faster, gradually picking up speed as I started to adjust around him - practically gaping for him at this point. “I’m gonna fill this pussy full of my cum,” he snarled, jerking back when I squeezed around him.

“Changbin, I-”

CLICK! The sound of the lock on our door being messed with was jarring, and Changbin and I looked at one another before jumping into action.

“Shit,” Changbin cursed, pulling his cock free before tucking himself into bed next to me, dragging the sheet over our exposed bodies. He reached for our underwear out of the floor, pushing my panties into my hand before we both turned to watch Leah poke her head inside the room.

“Why did you lock the door?” Leah asked as a single tear fell down the side of her puffy cheek. “Did mommy and daddy not want me?”

“Oh, we’re both sorry, sweetie,” I said, even though I was curious as to how my daughter managed to even get inside.

“We didn’t do it on purpose,” Changbin said, holding out his hands for Leah who immediately rushed around to his side of the bed.

Meanwhile, I managed to pull my underwear back on, wincing at the sensitivity of my clit against the fabric. It was hard to stay mad at my daughter, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was still disappointed that I had been denied yet another orgasm. But there was nothing I could do to revive the mood, and I watched as my daughter settled against Changbin’s side as he began to recount his day.

The weekend approached fast, and both Leah and myself were disappointed when Changbin announced that he would be leaving camp for a few days to visit the Vampires with Chan.

“Is Daddy coming back?” Leah had asked with her best pout.

“I won’t be gone long,” Changbin promised her, standing up straight to offer me a quick kiss before he was closing the front door behind him.

It wasn’t often that Changbin took these long trips away from the pack, but this was the first time since Leah had been born. Thus, my mind was a whirlwind of anxieties, and did my best to entertain my daughter despite her occasional desire to go outside. “Maybe later,” I always said in return, and usually it was enough to convince her.

For the most part, Leah behaved for the first and second days of Changbin’s absence, albeit with a darker mood. Unfortunately, on the day before Changbin’s anticipated return, Leah must’ve hit her breaking point because she had never went this long without her father. I did my very best to appease her - attempting to coax her into bed because when she woke-up the next morning, Changbin should be back.

However, long after the sun went down Leah was restless sleeping next to me in bed. She had yet to stop tossing and turning - her scent bitter with an unpleasant smell while small whines filled the room. “Leah.” I sighed, hoping that my daughter would heed the warning in my tone.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered to me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, sometimes daddy takes me on walks,” Leah said, turning over onto her side to fix me with a look.

“I don’t think we should go out with your father,” I said, shivering at the idea.

“Just for a little while?” Leah pouted. “I promise I’ll go right to sleep.”

“I don’t know...” I replied, still hesitant about the idea of leaving camp, but Leah’s pouting and whining was quite persistent, and I eventually gave in if she promised to go right to sleep when we returned.

In the next instance, I found myself following my daughter as we walked around the outskirts of the camp, listening as she mindlessly chattered about the changing leaves signaling Autumn’s impending arrival. “Let’s not go too far,” I warned her anxiously.

There was something dangerous permeating the air around us, and I wasn’t keen on discovering the source. But my daughter was still naive to the dangers of the world, and I immediately picked up my pace when I saw her scampering outside of the camp entrance. “Leah!” I hissed.

Immediately, my instincts were on high alert as I followed my daughter’s footsteps, stumbling over some old roots that were cracking through the ground. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark night, and I found my daughter standing next to one of the old pine trees, waving up at a small barn owl who considered my daughter with an impenetrable stare.

“You can’t leave the camp,” I scolded her, snatching her hand even as she giggled in delight at her discovery. “Wait until we get back...”

“Mommy, what’s that?” Leah interrupted, and I swallowed hard as I followed her outstretched hand to a pile of underbrush that provided the perfect coverage for a pair of scarlet-red eyes.

The scent was putrid, and my wolf recognized the vampire’s distinctive smell as I pulled my daughter away from the impending danger. “Stay behind me!” I said, and I hated the look of fear in my daughter’s eyes. But I allowed my wolf to takeover as I shifted into a defensive form, digging my new claws into the fresh Earth.

The vampire didn’t take kindly to the sudden challenge, letting out a piercing snarl as it left the coverage of its hiding spot to slowly slink closer to where I was waiting. It had been years since my last battle training, and I would have to rely on what little knowledge I could remember. Because there was no backing down, and I would do whatever was necessary to protect my daughter.

Still, I was unprepared for the vampire to make the first move, launching itself at me with uncanny speed. The hit was enough to knock my on my back, feeling the air leave my lungs before I felt the first painful bite on my hindleg. I howled in protest, spinning around to fling the vampire away from me. I was back on my feet in an instant, rushing at the superior fighter with a pounding heart and a mother’s spirit chanting to protect my daughter.

I should’ve listened to Changbin when he offered to teach me practice moves, but I never thought that I would need them. But hindsight is 20/20, and I whimpered when the vampire wrapped its arms around my chest - fingertips digging into my skin. I recognized instantly that it was trying to break my sternum, and adrenaline kicked in as I tried desperately to fight against him. But it was to no avail, and I could only think about my daughter watching from the trees as her mother was torn apart by a rogue vampire.

Yet, the anticipated pain never came, and I was gasping for air when I felt the vampire’s weight leave my body - collapsing to the ground in pain. Everything was hurting, and I couldn’t differentiate between the pain spots as I looked up to see a flash of black cross my line of vision. The fight was vicious, and there was blood painting the grass and a foul stench filling the air.

But when I came to my senses - having recovered just a little from my attack - I instantly recognized the bigger wolf who had successfully wrestled the vampire to the ground. “Changbin,” I managed between heavy inhales, watching as the onyx-black wolf held up the vampire’s head between his teeth.

Meanwhile, I could feel the presence of my daughter nearby - pressing her little hands against my fur. “Daddy?” Leah inquired, hesitantly peaking her head from around my raised haunches.

The simple call had a strange effect on my enraged mate, and Changbin dropped the corpse from between his teeth before shifting back to his human form. I quickly followed suit, meeting him halfway across the forest before throwing my arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry,” I cried into his shoulder, feeling comforted by the familiar sensation of his warm arms wrapped around me - ignoring the pain that was slowly dissipating as my enhanced healing took effect.

“It’s okay,” Changbin whispered. “It was a rogue. Felix warned us about a wandering coven of nomads.”

I nodded, still feeling my heart racing inside my chest, and I pulled away to glance over at Leah who was still watching us with wide, terror-filled eyes. “Come here, sweetie,” I said, and Leah quietly walked in between her parents, gripping tight to Changbin’s waist.

“Thank you, daddy,” Leah said and Changbin chuckled as he ran his fingers through his hair affectionately.

“What did daddy tell you? He’ll always be around to protect his family.”

Leah nodded, and I felt nothing but safe and secure with the two most important people in my world next to my side.