#it's got this surprising level of warmth to it though. maybe it's because I'm watching just the highlights and not the not-so-great ones

[eyrieofsynapses]

friend is gently pulling me into Star Trek in between a lot of irl This Is The Real Life™ (we'll just. we'll leave it at that) and y'know. I can see how this sparked modern fandom. this makes so much sense actually. it just wanders into your brain in that very specific way. I can appreciate this. enjoying going back to the fandom roots and going "ah yes, that's it"

anyway. man this is reminding me of how much I love the shows that actually had clear dialogue

[darlingmbappe]

When We’re Ready [1] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: Kylian's blatant desire for a baby has your head spinning. Though, you must say, he is quite convincing...

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, go away. Penatrative sex, oral (female receiving), groping (semi-public), breeding kink, cussing, horny mfs, kinda cringe and cheesy but I stand by it. Let me know if I missed anything! – English is not my first language. –

Masterlist

Kylian was easy to read. His expressive face always gave him away; scrunching and elongating against his will. Even when he was meant to hide his true feelings in certain situations, there was always a little twinge of the eyebrow or crook of the lip to let you know exactly what he was thinking.

Maybe you just knew him too well, spent too much time with his elastic face to pick up on the micro expressions that made it possible to know his mood at any time. But, something was different about tonight. Cheeky? Yes. Pensive? For sure. Annoyed? Maybe… It was hard to say with the way he stared at you from the bed. One hand propping up his heavy head while he watched you intently putting lotion on. 

This expression was new.

“Babe?” You call, rubbing together the leftover lotion on your hands, sitting in front of him on the bed. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” He hums, still seeming out of it as he shifts and stares at the TV now, though it only reflects a dark image of himself back at him, seeing as it wasn’t even turned on.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t buy it. Something’s on your mind.” You take your rings and earrings off, setting them in your jewelry catcher by your nightstand. Kylian stayed quiet as you got under the covers, drawing his attention back to you.

When he didn’t give you any sort of answer, you had no choice but to scroll on your phone in an attempt to ignore the burning stare that came from your husband's side of the bed. Eventually, it was impossible to pretend you didn’t feel his eyes dead set on your face. You shut your cell off and set your phone on your stomach, looking directly at him, your sudden view shift taking him by surprise. “Okay, seriously. What?”

“Nothing.” You catch a smirk barely grazing his lips before he just shakes his head, turning and switching off his bedside lamp, cozying up under the duvet. “Don’t worry about it.”

You huff and sneer at his answer, shutting off your lamp as well, curling up with an obvious annoyance at the lack of information. “He thinks I'm not gonna worry about it.” You mumble to yourself passive aggressively, your back turned to him. “You’re being weird. I don’t like it.”

“I'm not being weird.”

“Are too.”

Kylian stared at the back of your head, quiet as he slowly reached for your waist, effectively pulling your body up against his to share his warmth.

“Oh, so now you wanna cuddle?” You grumble, settling in comfortably despite the bite that laced your words.

He kissed your hair, lost in his own racing mind, not fully convinced he should bring this up to you tonight. Your annoyance was surface level, nothing he was deeply concerned about because he felt the way you relaxed against his own muscles, letting his arms act as your blanket. 

He was sure that the thoughts that persist in his skull had crossed your mind as well. As he lay there with you, the love of his life, he let his brain think without hesitation; no if’s or but’s, no playing devil's advocate with himself. He let himself indulge in the future fantasy that he had dreamed of since he was a small boy. He felt lucky he had you in all of his delusions, always right there with him. You’re around in every scenario he makes up; ever present, making you laugh, making you swoon. He feels so lucky that you stand with him in the tangible world as well, looking better than anything he comes up with in his mind. Saying funnier things, sweeter things.

As your breathing stables, he’s not sure if you’re fully asleep yet, or how long the silence has even run for. His throat would close at the words when you were awake and responsive, but now that he couldn’t tell, it was easier to whisper them to your sleeping figure – nothing holding him back from telling you his little secret.

“Let’s have a baby.”

His voice could have been mistaken as a sigh as he breathed the words gently into your ear… but you heard them.

Your eyes shot open wide, the air becomes harder to take in your lungs at the shock, laying still in his arms. Slowly, you lift your head and stare back at him. He feels just as shocked upon seeing that you’re actually awake, gulping at the confession he let slip. 

He knew you wanted kids, just like he did. You’ve been married just about four months and had previously talked about waiting two years or so to start a family. The pair of you agreed stability in the home was necessary before bringing a child into it – which was fair enough – but his baby fever was deadly. There wasn't anything he could do to keep away the images of little toes, and bassinets, and rolls on their tummy, and dimples on their legs and… just everything. He wanted to see them grow up. He wanted to debate you on who they got it from. He was prepared to do anything for that baby, and the baby itself is just a thought. A sweet little figment of his imagination… but they already had your eyes.

“Did I hear you right?” You sleepily mumble, feeling his grip on you grow tighter and his heartbeat quickening just a smidge.

He kisses your sleepy cheek, resting his face against yours as his arms wrap more securely around you. “Oui, mon coeur. I want a baby with you.” He repeated, voice still soft.

“You think now is a good time for us?”

“Mm…” He ponders a moment. “I think so.”

“Is this what you were thinking about?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Yeah. Been thinking it for a while.”

“A while…”

“A month or two.” Kylian shrugs like it's casual… like it hasn't completely taken over his brain from the second he saw you walk down the aisle. “Imagine our little family. Just the three of us." He lets the silence marinate, unsure of whether or not you've fallen asleep on him. "Don't you think?" He squeezes you gently, needing to keep this conversation going now that it's started.

You burrow your back into him to let him know you're still lucid. "Yeah. Just the three of us... but... is now the time to bring a baby into the world?"

His sigh sounds defeated, tickling your face. “You don’t think it is…”

“I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it.” You admit, looking at him once more. His eyebrows furrow and now you can read him clearly. 

The overthinking face. 

Despite being confident in himself and his actions in pretty much every aspect of his life, Kylian is a chronic overthinker. He’ll let his thoughts drag him into a darker place. He begins to question little comments or actions that he wouldn’t have thought twice about if the little voice in his head would just leave him alone. The crease between his eyebrows tilt upward, his tongue finds his top row of teeth, his stare points away to a still object that will allow him to daze off into the flying spiral of introspection. 

You tap your finger on his chin to get him to look back at you so you could ground him. “I have thought about it. A lot. Just not so much recently…” You say, not only doing damage control on your last comment, but a true statement on the topic of family that you’re interested in exploring further. “With the wedding, moving, family stuff, you know. Everything’s a little jumbled right now.”

The gears turn in his head and he purses his lips. “No, I get it.” He sighs deeply. “I guess you’re right.” You turn in his arms, now curled into his chest. He kisses your forehead before resting his chin on it, engulfing your body completely in his. “But, maybe two years is a little long to wait.”

“Yeah, I agree. Who knows if we’ll even still be together by then.” You grin mischievously into his skin and feel the vibration of his deep chuckle from your obvious joke.

“Shut up.” 

You move your head so you could look at him, pressing a kiss to his chapped and upturned lips. “Let’s give it until the end of the summer. That’s like, what, three months? If we both feel like the time is right, then we start trying, For real.”

He closes his eyes to feel your presence in his, content enough with the compromise. Isn’t that what marriage is all about, anyway? 

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You up for a little practice?”

“Practice?”

He rubs a firm hand down your back, letting it rest lower than it was before. “Just a little refresher…”

You caught on, rolling your eyes as he pulls away to gauge your reaction to his suggestion. 

“Ky, if anything, you’re a little over-practiced in that department.”

“No such thing, baby. Take it from me, I’m an athlete.” He smirks cheekily, letting only one finger run against your skin, tracing where the hem of your tank top had been resting on your hip. He dipped it lower and pulled up at the waistband of your underwear, letting it snap back gently, stinging only slightly but your sleepy state caused you to feel it ripple through you like he had whipped you.

“Hm…” You were sleepy, sure… but Kylian dipped his face into your neck. His lips could not have been more supple against your skin. The open mouth kisses he placed were gentle, soft, beyond seductive. Your eyes shut against your will at the feeling, his large palm flat against your side and moving up under the material that separated his bare chest from yours, tongue prodding out just slightly to taste your skin. “... I guess we can practice. Just a little…”

That night changed everything for you. 

You see babies everywhere now, it’s like the population multiplied overnight. There was nothing that could stop you from cooing at their tiny socks and chubby ankles, the sound of their giggle echoing through the grocery store, their innocent little smiles when they looked at their mommy or daddy… God, does everyone have a damn baby but you?

The months went on and the late summer sun was hotter than it had ever been. At least for as long as you’d lived in Paris. You could barely walk outside for the mail without sweating and needing a shower. You verbally thanked the heavens you weren't pregnant right now, not being able to imagine carrying a human inside of you with all of this heat. Kylian brushed it off, still holding out hope for a new addition to the Mbappe household. 

Kylain might be an extremely intelligent man, but, boy… subtlety is not his strong suit. It started with him leaving open baby magazines on the kitchen counter, flipped to the cutest, smallest, chunkiest little one they had on print. He’d send you baby TikTok videos with a message that read “do you like this color for the living room walls?” 

In his defense, he was never trying to be subtle. He continued to think about what you said that night he first mentioned trying, and he still thinks that bringing a baby into the mix is right for you two. He tried to chop it down to his social media algorithm sabotaging him with constant baby content or maybe the honeymoon phase after the wedding had him feeling this strongly, but those explanations just didn’t feel right. After knowing you for six years and getting to love you for almost all of that time, he was eager to create a family with you right in the center of it. 

The baby discussion had made a sharp turn at some point this last month. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it all went from questioning every aspect of your life together and reasoning with one another about very serious doubts and scenarios, to unhinged conversations about things that just caused you to giggle. Things like: where the pair of you would bring your newborn on their first vacation, what their first word would be, if they’d follow in Kylians footsteps, how much money the tooth fairy would give them for their first lost tooth.

It’s safe to say, you finally came to the silent conclusion that you were ready – but that realization couldn't have come at a more awkward time.

Dinner with his whole side of the family was a blessing for you both. It wasn’t very often that every schedule cleared up in the same time frame. A large restaurant section was rented out in the heart of Paris for family and friends to get together. It was a nice time to make conversation and catch up on everything life had churned out since the last time you’d seen each other. The appetizers were spectacular, the drinks were doing their job, it was all so nice…

… Except that nothing – yes, nothing – is more awkward than being unstoppably horny for your husband in front of his entire family. You cut yourself off after martini number three when you noticed it was turning your brain into goo. The buzz wasn't enough to make you drool and incoherent, but seeing your Kylian playing with his niece and nephew, picking them up and turning them upside down, pressing affectionate smooches to their bulbous cheeks… drooling and incherency was not far behind. 

He was going to be such a good dad. He was already the most caring husband, even with all of his responsibilities and commitments. He found time for you in every sliver of open space in his schedule, needing to soak up quality time with his wife as if it were as necessary as air. 

The entrées began to come out as everyone took their respective seats. Kylian was still oblivious to the googly eyes you’d been throwing in his direction all night, but it wasn’t long after he sat down that he caught on. 

He leans over to whisper to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I know that look. Very well.”

You shudder at his breath tickling your skin. Flustered beyond belief, you could only manage to shake your head, letting out a shy and breathy laugh.

Kylian bit his lip and snickered along with you, setting his hand on your knee and faces forward. His touch was hot. A skillet off of the stove would have sent the same wave of heat all the way up your limbs. You reach for the water on the table, positive that the fierce blush overtaking your face would be obvious to anyone who decided to look at you in your current state. His long fingers began moving against your knee, tracing mindless patterns that only sent you more goosebumps. He knew that every gentle touch or fragment of affection he would give you right now would be heightened tenfold… he loved knowing that you were putty in his hands. He knew your mind – and right now, he had completely taken over it.

“Feeling okay, mon amour?” The sly smirk on his face gave him away. He was just teasing you, and Lord, does he love teasing. His hand moves upward to your midthigh, stopping and moving his thumb up and down above your dress, crinkling the material. “You’re looking a little flushed.”

You’d been avoiding eye contact, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your needy gaze. “Kylian, stop it. Your mom’s sitting right there.” You reprimand in a soft voice, not wanting to raise any attention to the pair of you up to nothing decent.

“I’m not doing anything.” He chuckles, moving his hand a little higher. You suck in a sharp breath as he leans into your ear again. “Won’t you look at me, bébé?” 

You shake your head no, feeling quite shy as your throat dries up. You clear your throat discreetly and reach for the cold water once more, but Kylians hand grabs your palm, bringing it to his lips. “Let me see those eyes, baby.” He mumbled against your hand. His back was turned to the rest of the table, acting as a human curtain for your obvious discomposure.

You roll your eyes before looking at him. You tried your best to give him a scolding look, but the second you saw that same glimmer in his eye that matched yours, your current sensitivities doubled down. The pace of your heart heightened quickly, the warmth in your cheeks increasing by the second.

You felt like leaning in to kiss his lips. He licked them right when he took a quick glance at your own, your hand still taken in his.

“Your eggplant parmesan, madame.” You didn’t even see the waiters bringing out the entrées being too engrossed in Kylian's burning stare. You smile up and thank her then look around the table. You’d forgotten that there were other people there for a second, much less his family. His mom, dad, nieces, nephews, aunties – distant or otherwise… You had to pull yourself together before they caught on to your overly horny demeanor. 

Kylian took his hand off your thigh when his chicken alfredo was placed in front of him, noticing how you sat up straighter. For now, he’d let you do your best to make regular conversation with his cousins that sat across from the both of you, but he noticed how tightly your legs were crossed together. He saw your eyes dart away from his whenever you turned his way. When he brushed your pinky on the table before engulfing your hand, you took in a sharp breath. So sensitive. 

He nodded toward your empty plate. “Feel like turning in early, mon coeur?”

You raised a brow at him. “Ky, you sure? Your whole family’s here. Don’t you wanna stay a little longer?”

He shrugs. “We’ve been mingling for like,” he looks at his watch, “almost three hours. Besides, I’m quite a bit distracted tonight.” He peeks down at your cleavage, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. “I think I wanna take you home.”

You shudder when he leans in and kisses the corner of your lips. To anyone watching, it’s a sweet gesture of affection, but to you… it was erotic. Sensual. It made you tighten your thighs even more.

His attention is taken back to the others at the table, letting them know that the two of you would be leaving a little early, blaming it on his morning training schedule. You two made your rounds to every seat, kissing cheeks and rubbing shoulders, making sure you left a good impression with each and every one of the members of the group. 

He opened the car door for you, grabbing your hand to help you in, kissing your knuckles before hopping in the driver's seat. He weaved through traffic with a sure hand on your upper thigh, slowly and subconsciously getting higher and higher. 

It’s unfair that he holds all the power right now – making you sweat and need him with every purposeful tap on your skin. The pads of his fingers migrated downward over your dress until it reached the hem of the frilly garment. His eyes were fixed on the red light in front of him as he let his hand travel under your dress – the simple skin to skin enough to invade you with goosebumps – feeling each and every one on the trail he formed toward your panties, toying with the band wrapped around your hip.  

You didn’t even mean to swivel your hips closer to his hand, but when his forefinger traveled lightly to feel your slit over the elastic material, you couldn’t stop yourself. “Ky…” You whined as he wiggled his digit against you. 

You look over to see his smirk facing forward, practically visualizing his ego growing at just your involuntary mewl. Looking at his lap, you saw the trace of his member was much too prominent to assume your neediness wasn’t affecting him. You reached over and took hold of it, gripping with a single squeeze that had his breath shake in surprise. 

“Merde, cherie…” He hissed, taking sporadic peeks down at your hand as it rubbed him through the layer of cloth. It wasn’t responsible to grope him while he was behind the wheel, but the standstill traffic and ultra tinted windows lent you enough feelings of safety to continue your motions. You felt him getting harder as you pumped your fist as best you could over his stiff zipper. 

Half his mind wanted to ask you to wait until you got home so he could shove you between him and the wall, feel, kiss, bite, lick every centimeter he saw… but how could he? Your fluttering lashes made him forget how to speak coherently. He just couldn’t resist you. 

His personal fucking kryptonite. 

There you both sat, hands on each other's most intimate parts in the center of traffic. It was kind of exciting that the people on the same road had no idea what was going on. That the thick steel doors and blackened windows were the only thing keeping them from seeing you throw your head back when he pressed on your clit. That they were oblivious to the sweet sounds that bubbled up from Kylians chest as you ran your knuckles over his tip, the hand that wasn’t lost under your otherwise innocent dress gripping the steering wheel so, so tightly. 

Kylian took a quick and sharp left, finally away from the traffic going down the last road until you reached your private residence. His foot pressed all the way down on the pedal, impatiently rolling the stop signs. In any other scenario, it would make you nervous, but you truly didn't even notice the way he broke traffic laws once he had removed his hand in the urgency of it all. 

You unbuckled as he drove down the last couple of blocks, leaning over the center console to attack his open neck, surely leaving a big purple bruise in your wake. Your hand wrapped around his face, pressing him further into you. He grunted and closed his eyes as soon as he put the car in park inside the garage, wasting no time grabbing for your leg so you could straddle him in the tall SUV. 

Kylian hiked your dress up with his hand firmly placed on the globe of your ass, squeezing your flesh harshly as you grinded down onto him. With his lips now on your own, all the sounds of pleasure were muffled and smothered.  

“J'ai tellement besoin de toi, putain.” I need you so fucking bad. His hands roamed higher around your waist as he got access to your neck.

“J'ai besoin que tu mettes un bébé en moi. C'est si dur.” I need you to put a baby in me. So bad. When you say these words, you feel him stiffen. His hands cease their movements, now only gripping you in place as he leans his head back to look at your face. He needed to see if you were joking or not. Breathless and completely earnest, you stare into his wide eyes, feeling the way the mood changed with just a single phrase. 

He hints at a smile. “You’re serious?”

You nod, kissing the tip of his nose, brushing your thumb dearly on his cheekbone. “So serious.”

He grins happily, pure excitement behind his eyes as he rubs your back with an incredible gentleness. He’s overtaken with fondness as he leans in to kiss you again. He smiles into it, letting out a joyous giggle when he hugs you tightly.

He barely pulls back. “Let’s get you inside. My beautiful wife.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you as he hugs you down the hallway toward the master bedroom, taking small detours when he simply couldn't help himself; grasping your neck to kiss you lovingly, slowing down to press you against his front and whisper sweet things in your ear. 

You half expected him to throw you on the bed, rip your dress off, and take you like it was an animalistic instinct. By his conduct in the restaurant and in the car, you’d expect nothing less than a rough and primal fuck. 

But, no. He walked you backward toward the bed, only staring into your eyes adoringly as he lifted you up to lay your head down on the pillow comfortably. 

He kissed you once before just looking at you on the mattress, knees turned in and pathetic little squirm demanding its way through your limbs. Your pretty purple dress was now wrinkled and twisted, halfway up your thigh, straps hanging loosely off your shoulder.

He beamed, deciding to sit on his knees with you in between him as he began undoing his white dress shirt, button by button, eyes never leaving yours. Your grabby hands untucked the material from his pants, matching his slower pace as you undid the buckle of his belt.

Once his shirt just hung on his shoulders, he placed two warm hands on your legs, allowing them to wander up and up, the material of your dress all scrunched up in their path. He unveiled your body to his hungry eyes, tapping the side of your ribs so you’d sit up and let him take it off of you completely. You both giggled softly when it finally went over your face, disheveling your hair in the process. Kylian brushed it all away from your features, grabbing your face sweetly and laying you back down, noses only an inch away as he balanced his body on top of yours.

“Mon amour.” He mumbled adoringly, brushing his nose with yours, grazing your lips slightly. “We’re really doing this.”

You just smile, pecking the cheesy wide grin that had taken over his features. “We’re ready.” You confirm, wrapping both your arms around his neck. 

He slowly made his way down your body, inch by inch, kiss by kiss. His tongue made soft and swift circles on your left nipple, your other being pinched and soothed by his strong fingers. As he ventured further, he placed his palms firmly on your tummy, kissing it so tenderly, as if to prepare a space for his future baby. Blessing it’s temporary home before they even had the chance to get there.

“You’re going to look so pretty when I get you pregnant.” The words were strangled between the emotions in his voice and the ringing in your own ears; the pressure of his lowering hands making your head spin. 

He tossed his shirt aside along with his pants when he reached your underwear, placing himself with purpose as he began pulling down the lacy garment. He hummed delightedly when a string of your slick clung onto the material. You showcased your pussy to him like he paid for it, jutting your hips toward him with pure need. 

“You’re so fucking wet.” He murmured as he ran a finger through your folds, just to tease, perceptive to the shiver that formed a sweet noise from your chest.

Without needing further instruction, he kitten licked your clit, gently sucking on it now and then. You turned your head into the silk pillow, letting it catch most of the crude noises you were making for the man between your legs. With his arms securely wrapped around your thighs, he pressed his face further into your core, shaking his head back and forth before adding two fingers. 

“God – fuck, Ky.” The abstruse praises spewed out of you when he curled his long, long fingers up, pumping them as they hooked inside your rigid walls. 

He pulled them out too quickly for your liking, taking his magic tongue with him as he stared down at your pussy. He stretched your skin apart with his thumbs, playing with you for his own visual gratification before slowly inserting three fingers inside at once. He watched them intently disappear into you, then quickly looking at your face that twisted in delight as he stretched you open – preparing you for his thick member. 

You wailed in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. “Oh my god, Kylian.” How he loved hearing you moan out his name. It only made him need you more, staring up at you dotingly past your stomach. “Please, baby… I need you.” You begged.

His fingers slow down before leaving you bare. He watched your empty pulsing hole for only a second, licking his fingers clean as he shuffled around to be on top of you once more. 

He hovered over you, staring deeply into your eyes. You sighed in contentment at his gazing, allowing one of your hands to go astray to lower his boxer briefs over his ass, pulling down the front as well. You took hold of his thick and hard cock, pumping it while keeping eye contact with your lover. It was so beautiful to observe the tiny fragments of expressions that waved over his face. The microscopic twinges of his eyelids, the slight curve that forms between his eyebrow, the gentle pursing of his lips. 

You tugged him to your opening, running his dick along your soaked lips, lubricating it as you began to try and prod yourself open with him. Just the feeling of his tip beginning to enter your tight pussy had him shuddering. Kylian met your hand, helping it guide his cock to your entrance, slowly inserting his desperate mushroomhead.

He moved slightly, watching your expression for discomfort. “You’re so tight.” He huffed. Your hand stayed on his base, his small and paced movements still only to stretch you out for him. He felt the pads of your fingers as he shallowly pushed in and out of you.

“Faster.” You demanded, moving your hands to his ass to follow his movements. 

He complied, heavy breathing fanning your face, his pace increasing, stuffing more of himself inside of you. Kylians eyes were shut tightly, head lulling down and occasionally planting a sloppy kiss on whatever skin happened to be closest to his parted lips. His arms shift into a plank position and he nuzzles his face in your neck, body pressed firmly against you – the beads of sweat on his muscles rubbing against your middle in tandem with his thrusts that still only went in halfway. With your hands still on the globes of his ass, you clenched and pushed him deeper with your palms. 

He groans at the feeling, almost all the way inside of you. “You want it all? Huh?” He asks between gasps of air. “You want me to stretch out your tight little pussy. Take it.” He kisses you, tongue aggressively scouting your mouth. He lifts your legs up and sets them around his shoulders. 

While staring into your eyes, he snaps his hips forward until his pelvic bone was pressed deliciously on your own.

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling him so, so deep inside of you. The slightly upward curve pinned against your g-spot as he stayed still in that position. The way your strained walls grabbed him and kept him buried inside made his eyes cross for a second. He tilted his head and kissed your left knee. Your foot grazed his back when he pulled out almost all the way, and, Christ… the look he gave you was debilitating when he thrusts back in.

When you say Kylian is easy to read, you really meant it. You could stare at his face for all of three seconds and gauge his mood. It was something he actually found a little annoying sometimes; coming home after a tough day and you’d force him to talk about it before he would even get a hello out. He could say he hated your perceptiveness all he wants, but he’ll never truly convince himself of that. He loved that he could communicate with you with just a simple impression on his features. 

Now, he thrusted in and out, in and out as he gazed down at your hooded eyelids – and the look on his face was, again, one you've never seen before. 

And despite this, you just knew what it meant. You felt it in your heart. 

Love. Passion. Devotion. Care. Companionship. He'll be there for everything that is to come.

You saw your future in the shining glimmer in his irises. You saw everything. 

Tears naturally welled in your eyes, one slipped, rolling down the side of your face. There was a glint of concern in Kylian as he slowed his unforgiving pace, but you moved your hips to keep him going.

He halted his motions and was about to ask you if you were okay or if you were hurt, but your hands cradled his face and you leaned up to peck his lips. “I just love you so much.” You say, answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. 

He lets out a deep sigh, wavering and telling. His thumb grazes over the trail of your tear, then leaves it there to stroke your skin. You gave him a light and playful spank on his right butt cheek, making you both giggle. He leaned down and kissed you feverishly – smooching once, twice, three times and pulling back only slightly.

“I love you. Je t'aime. Dieu, je t'aime tellement.” I love you. God, I love you so much. He planted sweet kisses all over your face, still smiling. “Tu es tout pour moi.” You are everything to me. 

He pulled completely out of you, leaving you empty. A whine bubbled out of your chest and Kylian traced over the crease that had formed between your eyebrows, just before inserting himself back. Your mouth opened in pleasure, a moan stuck inside your throat as he gradually powered through your tight walls, inch by fucking inch. It was a feeling of complete satisfaction when his tip collided with your sweet spot once more. Even better when the drag of his thrusts nudged it over, and over, and over, A slow pace. A gentle pace. A pace that he felt necessary for the beginning of this new chapter. 

He knew he was close, but kept his rhythm to get you there with. His hand found your clit quickly, making you jolt up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him into you.

“Oh, shit, Kylian… God! Yes! Fuuuuck…” The heaps of praise melted like butter in Kylians ears. The sweet voice of the woman he loves praising him made his heart flutter, soaking in the feeling of your teeth sinking into his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna fill you up.” He stuttered into your hair, changing the motions of his fingers of your sensitive bud to get you there faster.

“Please, please, Kylian.” You kiss his neck, biting the skin. “Get me pregnant. Please.”

He moaned at your words, feeling like he couldn’t stop himself from orgasming for a minute longer. “Putain, je suis sur le point de... bon sang!” Fuck, I’m about to… Jesus Christ! 

It was there. Right there. His thrusts faltered, he took your face from his neck and ran his free thumb over your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as he groaned deeply. He squeezed his eyes closed as you felt his hot spurts of cum painting your walls, shooting into you delightfully until you were sure you were full. He cursed, eyes screwed shut as he continued thrusting sporadically. The feeling of it all made the knot in your abdomen pop. You screamed his name, legs shaking on his shoulder violently, toes curling, thighs shivering.

He pulled his hand away and kept fucking his cum into you through his groans of overstimulation, right until he had to gently and slowly pull out. He kept your legs pressed against your chest as he ventured down the mattress to get a better view of your pussy; his seed spilling out of you in dribbles, forcing him to stuff as much as he could back into you with his thumb. You shivered, lifting your head to watch him admire his work as if you were a piece of art he’d spent centuries perfecting. Slowly, he brought your sore legs back into a more natural position, soothing your aching muscles with a gentle massage. You were still coming down under his touch, both of you absolutely breathless. He throws himself down on the pillows next to you, whisking your hand from your heaving stomach – just holding it as you both calmed down and caught your breath. 

“Christ…” You mumbled, chuckling a little bit. You rotate your body toward him with a giddy smile on your face, cuddling into his side and kissing his cheek. He began chuckling along with you. “What if I'm pregnant right now?” You ask, excitement comfortably taking over your face. 

He shakes his head and looks at you, then down to your exposed stomach pressed against him. His hand snakes onto your middle, gently pushing you on your back as he steadied his hand right on your belly button. 

He didn't even need to say anything. His face said it all. 

The excitement of it all carried through the following weeks. It took everything in you to not tell every one of your friends and co-workers that you guys were trying. With the media breathing down your necks, it was agreed that this would be kept on the down low and you’d only announce when you were showing and could no longer hide it. Privacy was important to you both as a couple, and saying you're trying was really just a socially acceptable way of telling people you and Kylian were just constantly having sex.

Your leg bounced in anticipation as you asked your Alexa (again) how long was left of your fifteen minute timer. Kylian chewed on his thumbnail as he sat next to you on the bed with the same frustration at the slow clock ticking down, needing to know if the little stick that sat in the bathroom had one or two lines painted on it. 

“I’m not pregnant.” You say into the silence with no evidence that that was true.

He leans back, taking his raw nail away from his teeth. “You could be.”

“I don’t think I am. Wouldn’t I, you know, like, feel it, or something?”

He sighs, placing a sure hand on the small of your back. “I have no idea. I don’t know if you know this about me… but I’ve never been pregnant before.” He smiles, earning a forced grin from you. He notices the unnaturalness of your curved lips to appease his bad joke, never reaching your eyes as they darted around the room nervously. He scoots closer, hugging your shoulders comfortingly, rubbing them like it would take away your anxiety. “Whatever it says, we have time. We keep trying.” He kisses your cheek with a quirk in his smile. “I quite enjoy trying.” You huff out a laugh – a real one – and playfully jab his stomach with your elbow. 

That moment lasted no longer than a few seconds before the sound of the alarm went off. You audibly gulped down the minimal moisture in your mouth, taking a deep breath in as you both walked to the bathroom, Kylian holding your shoulders as he walked behind you into the tiled room. 

“You want me to look?” He quietly asked after you just stared at the stick that was face down on the counter, not moving a muscle or even blinking. You nod, wiping your hands on your pants. 

It felt like everything moved in slow motion when he reached for the otherwise insignificant plastic test that your future was written on. He kept the stick face down in his hand and took a deep breath in. You subconsciously crossed your fingers at your side. You’d never done that before, but you were hoping the universe would listen to your silent pleading superstition. You watch his face so intently, hyper-analyzing it before he even turns the stick in his hands. 

His eyes shot down to it and he pursed his lips with a miniscule sigh. Without saying anything else, he sets it back down on the counter and pulls you in for a hug. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you needed confirmation of your suspicions, looking over at the stick with only one single line. 

He put his chin on top of your head, squeezing you dearly. “It’s okay. It was our first try.” He murmured as you wrapped your own arms around his torso disappointingly. 

You nod despite the grave let down, having convinced yourself that it would happen now like you had both hoped. “Yeah. I don’t know why I expected to get a positive that quickly. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

He shakes his head, not really knowing what to say to comfort you while dealing with his own waves of sadness. Embracing each other in lieu of speaking was just as comforting, knowing you both were having the same experience together was consolation enough. 

He kisses the top of your hair with a whispered I love you, holding you, holding him. 

A/N: Part 1 of 2 (possibly 3). I'm back! Thank you to everyone for being patient with me and checking up on me through my little month hiatus. Sometimes, you just need a break and I appreciate you guys so much for being so kind through it! Huge hug and kiss to everyone here! Based on these requests (anon 1) (anon 2). And, don't worry, @megannandrewss , yours is coming in the next parts!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss

[margarethx]

I was genuinely surprised with the responses I've got on the first part of [THIS story]. It was such a random burst of motivation to write that I didn't even think it through and just posted whatever came out of my head. But I'm very glad that you liked it, since it's the first story I've showed to other people in like 4 years.

The working title will be "Assassinate them with Kindness", and I'll use that as a tag for later parts when I add them. It's also [available on Ao3] if you'd prefer to read it over there.

Enjoy <3

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The weird man does not go to Sam's group on Monday.

Which is not as big of a relief as Sam thought it would be.

Because if the man is not here... where is he? And why did he even ask if he could join the group? Was he just taunting Sam? Teasing him with the knowledge or Sam's schedule and whereabouts, but not revealing how and for what purpose did he get that information?

Sam briefly glances at his wrist, covered neatly by a long-sleeved shirt and a warm blazer. The day is way too hot for this type of clothing, but he refused to look at the bruises on his skin for more than two seconds after noticing them for the first time. He still feels the pain, but it's easier to make it fade into the background, if he pretends it isn't there at all.

In spite of his nervousness and constant worry, Sam leads his group like a true professional. Calm, collected, funny when needed. A shining example of an ex-soldier who has left most of their PTSD far behind by working hard to healthily rejoin society. Definitely not a person, who started carrying a gun in public again after singular weird encounter, and who constantly has to fight with himself to not look over his shoulder and check if there isn't anyone watching him from the shadowed backroom.

But the man was not there. The meeting went well. And all the people leaving the room with their polite "good bye's" and casual "see ya!'s" have no idea about the turmoil in his head.

"See you Thursday," Sam smiles pleasantly and grabs Tyler's hand with both palms, shaking it lightly, as a young vet stops by. "It's nice to see you again. It's been a while," he adds, hoping that his eyes convey genuine warmth.

Tyler is young - too young to deal with this sort of trauma. A typical example of a teenager pulled into a military machine by life circumstances, not because of any principled believes. He went to have a better chance at higher education afterwards. And he lost half of his right leg for it.

He is secretly Sam's favourite in the group, with his sense of humour and positive attitude. Though Sam is sure there is a lot of fears and sadness hidden behind all the jokes, because he acted the exact same way when he first sought out help after coming home. It was easy to see the reflection of younger Sam in Tyler's behaviour.

And it was also great to have someone in the group who could keep everyone's mood relatively light when topics were getting heavy, without making others feel as if their confessions were not treated seriously. It was, of course, Sam's job to control the atmosphere as best as he could , but on days like this - when he himself didn't feel stellar - it was a relief to not shoulder all the emotional weight of the meeting on his own.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Wilson?" Tyler asks, also shaking Sam's hands a little.

"It's Sam, we've talked about this," Sam smiles, deflecting by playing their classic game of arguing over formality levels of their relation. It's a bit worrying. To know that he can put on a mask and his vets might notice his distress anyway. But no one else said anything, so maybe he fooled the rest of them successfully?

"Apologies. Is everything alright, Mr. Sam Wilson?"

Tyler sends him a bright grin and Sam sighs. He doesn't have much energy left to argue or pretend. He did not sleep very well last week, to put it lightly.

"I'm alright," he finally replies without much conviction. "It's personal stuff, you don't need to worry about this. It should be resolved by the next meeting," he adds, hoping that this little lie will make his situation look like a solvable problem with the end in sight. Maybe if he believes in it hard enough it would even come true?

For now, it seems that Tyler buys the explanation and drops the topic. As they exchange goodbyes, he still glances at Sam with a slight frown, but he doesn't push. It'd be unusual if he did. As much as Sam loves working with these people and helping them, they're not that close. His vets don't get involved in his personal life.

...They don't know where he lives, for example...

Sam shakes his head to stop himself from thinking and gathers the papers on his desk with a bit more energy than the task requires. He needs to get out of here. The conference room he uses is relatively big, but the walls seem to get closer and closer, the ceiling pressing down on him.

He exits the building, taking long steps, and avoiding everyone's eyes. Fortunately, most people he passes don't know him, so he's not stopped for any conversations about his last weekend and all the fun his co-workers had while he sat on his guestroom floor surrounded by unhealthy snacks, and wondering if it's reasonable to invest his meager savings in an upgraded security system.

It's embarrassing, when he thinks back to those three days. It shouldn't be that big of a deal.

But something about that man... About his eyes. About the bruises he left.

Sam really tried to not look at them too closely to avoid spiraling again, but he's pretty sure his skin almost broke in some places, as if pinched too hard. The only reason he didn't notice it right away was probably the sheer rush of adrenaline that flooded him in that moment and dulled the pain.

Once he's outside, Sam leans on a nearby wall, out of everyone's sight, unsure of what to do next. Even though he spent the last weekend hidden in his home, the place did not feel safe. All he could focus on were unusual noises or the headlights of random cars passing by, casting uneven shadows on his walls. At some point he was sure one specific shadow looked like a person, but when he carefully peered outside, his garden was empty, with the exception of a small bat the flew in circles under the nearest lamppost, catching moths in peace.

Normally, he'd stay, watching the little guy and reminiscing about the time he too could fly at such speed, but it didn't feel safe, so he moved as far away from the window as possible.

All Sam wants right now is to get back to his bed and hide under the covers, go to sleep, and wake up to realize that the whole thing was just a dream.

His bag slips from his shoulder when he slumps against the wall and the strap catches on his wrist. He hisses in pain, reminded once more - as if he forgot, somehow - that his paranoia is actually justified and that his home is not some safe haven he'd like it to be. Because someone strong enough to nearly break his bones with a strong grip knows where he lives and could come back at any second.

If the guy was a real vet, why didn't he come to the meeting?

And again... if he's not here... Where is he?!

Sam readjusts his bag and straightens up. He cannot come home right now, but he needs to sleep somewhere. He could ask one of his new friends to take their couch for the night... but it's not Delacroix and his friendships here are not on the "sleepover" level yet. And if the man decides to look for him, Sam would drag the danger to someone else's home.

He's not that selfish.

Maybe he could find someone on a dating app and stay the night?

He shudders at the idea. It reeks of desperation even to his clouded brain. He would not do that to some random innocent person. And he would not do that to himself. He has enough dignity left.

The mere fact that he came up with a solution like that sobers him up a little bit. It sounds almost ridiculous and he's sure he would laugh about it one day... if he lives long enough to tell the story about his lowest point post-Afganistan.

What he needs to do is to go to a public space. A place with cameras, a nice crowd with enough eyes, to catch if something's wrong - but not crowded enough that a person would fade into the sea of faces and moving bodies.

With that in mind, Sam takes another deep breath to calm himself and marches towards the nearest bar he knows. The place is probably half-empty at this hour, but an evening wave of patrons should start trickling in pretty soon.

The inside of the establishment is a bit too dark for Sam's liking, but as he sits at the bar he feels some of the tension leave his body at last. Behind the bartender there is a freshly cleaned mirror, showing most of the tables, so Sam can keep an eye on the room while eating.

He's not in the mood for drinking - mostly to stay vigilant, not because he couldn't use a nice glass of whiskey right now - but the place offers some typical fast food options, so he picks them from the menu instead. He'll have to really push himself during the next training session to pay for the sugar and fat intake of the last four days, but he feels like he's earned the right to be indulgent for at least a while.

As he eats, Sam observes other patrons suspiciously, looking over his shoulder from time to time. At some point he's sure he feels someone's eyes on his back, but no one new entered the building in the last twenty minutes and the people on nearby tables seem preoccupied with their own thoughts and conversations, so he's sure it's just the paranoia.

It's starting to get dark outside and the bar fills with shadows before someone turns on a few extra laps. There are more people sitting around Sam now, some staring in silence into their drinks, others talking casually, or flirting with the bartender, as per usual.

The guy behind the bar seems cute. Probably a bit younger than Sam's typical partner, but still in his bracket. He accepts the compliments with a calm smile not cutting them off right away, but not doing much to encourage the attention. Sam gets a little lost for a second, observing the man's hands as he prepares the drinks, almost hypnotized by the movents.

Suddenly, one of the patrons - one that's been sitting by the bar before Sam even came in - drops her wallet in a clumsy attempt to pay the bill. She smiles awkwardly at the bartender, who simply grabs the wallet for her from the floor, clearly used to similar shenanigans.

As the guy leans forward, a curtain of thin braids covers his face for a brief second and he glances somewhere in Sam's general direction from between them before standing up.

Sam freezes.

The man looks basically nothing alike the guy who stood at his doorstep last week, but something about that look causes the memories to flood Sam once again. He feels dizzy and the comfortable atmosphere of the bar becomes overwhelming and stuffy in a blink of an eye.

He nearly jumps out of his chair and makes a beeline to the bathroom. He's not sure why. He just needs to... Wash his face maybe. Look into the mirror and have a stern talk with his brain. Something. Anything! To finally calm down.

As he walks towards the bathrooms, he notices some man sitting in a booth he previously didn't see. He's dressed pretty formally, phone in hands, and an annoyed grimace on his face. He looks more like a person currently working than someone who just went for drinks to wind down after work.

His eyes meet Sam's which sends a cold shiver down his spine. For whatever reason, this man - looking like a banker or low-lever politician, which is a common sight in DC - scares Sam just as much as the creepy stranger haunting his thoughts.

He breaks the eye contact and darts towards the bathrooms even faster, nearly colliding with someone who exits the door.

There are three other people in the bathroom, two of which wash their hands and fix their hair in front of the mirror. Neither of them look particularly suspicious, but Sam keeps an eye on them anyway, walking towards the stalls and locking himself in one of them.

He sits there for less then two second before he realizes that he's made himself more vulnerable by isolating himself from the crowd, but he's really not sure what to do next. The brief moment of fear after seeing the bartender with hair hanging over his face seems silly in retrospect. He could've just ignored the panic, push the discomfort down, and go back to the main room. But the man in suit sitting in a secluded booth?

That was actually worrying. Because he didn't just look generally annoyed or angry. He seemed to be specifically mad at Sam. Which would be concerning with any other influential White guy, but in this particular instance Sam feels like there's more to it.

He hears another person enter the bathroom, interrupting his thoughts. Two of the people washing their hands leave. Someone else comes in. Sam keeps track of everyone inside and at some point he's pretty sure he's the only person still sitting here, so he quietly exits the stall.

Just as he expected, the bathroom is empty. It's a bit weird, all things considered. It's a Monday afternoon, sure, but this place is not alive just on the weekends and in the night, when students party. There should be a constant rotation of people going in and out at any point.

But the room is silent as Sam stands there, wondering what to do next.

He's pretty sure he hears some water running on the other side of the wall and muffled laughs, seemingly coming from a group of women washing their hands and talking in an adjacent room.

Sam's familiar with all the overdone jokes about girls visiting the bathroom way more often than guys or about them going there in hordes. And, stereotypical or not, there is some truth to those... but Sam's pretty sure it should not be this disproportional.

The man's bathroom has been empty for over five minutes. Which is way too long, considering the size of the crowd.

A motion activated light loudly going off in one of the stalls makes it even more clear that Sam's suspiciously alone in here.

He washes his hands just to do something when, finally, the door to the main part of the bar opens. A wave of sound - clinking glasses, loud conversations, a ringtone - fill the empty space until the door closes again, cutting the noise off.

Sam exhales with relief and moves to dry his hands.

Then he notices him.

The man from his porch, now standing behind him, staring straight at Sam in the mirror.

He looks even bigger now, taller, and more broad at the shoulders, his hair still covering the face like a greasy veil. His eyes pin Sam in place like a wild animal who's fight or flight instincts fired so many contradicting impulses in its brain that it ended up just freezing.

In any other situation Sam would feel vindicated. He was right! He was not safe, he was observed, and someone is going after him - for whatever reason.

He can take that useless sense of satisfaction and bring it straight to his grave.

The man doesn't move. He just looks at Sam or through him, maybe. As if he's mentally not here. Maybe his soul has also left his body, like Sam assumes his own did right now?

It's just like that day at his home. Awkward, tense silence and creepy staring. Sam feels the hairs on his arm stand up like a coordinated unit. His heart beats so fast and loud that it must echo on the bathroom's walls. If Sam's ears were not filled with ringing, he'd probably be more sure about that.

The man blinks, just once.

And something in Sam just... breaks.

When he'll think about it later he'll have no idea why he did it. But he simply turns off the water and turns towards the guy in one smooth motion.

"Oh, I know you" he says, tone casual.

The man frowns this time, still looking directly at Sam. One of his hands is hidden inside or his unzipped jacket and it twitches a little. Whatever he's holding there probably isn't a bouquet or a dove, he'll produce out of nowhere and present to Sam like a magician.

"Fancy meeting you here," he adds, like it's a normal conversation. Like they're friends from work or as if the man was his favourite cashier at a local store. "In the bar, I mean. Not in the bathroom," he jokes.

The man's face does a weird thing. It's difficult to tell what kind of emotion he wanted to convey, but he seems confused. Does he even recognize Sam? Maybe he's really not as mentally present this time?

The water drips from Sam's hands to the tiled floor - tiny rivulets running down his fingers. It's quiet again, just as before, until one of the other motion activated lights goes off in the stalls. Then the next one right after it. Click. Click.

The guy flinches twice, his hand moving under the jacket's lapels.

"Can I help you with something?" Sam asks finally. At this point it feels like his mouth is operating on its own, entirely independent on his brain. He's also there, but not really.

Maybe he's already died and hasn't realized?

"You didn't go to my meeting today." Why does he keep talking?! "Do you plan to join this Thursday?"

By some miracle, this question seems to work. The guy's eyes dart around nervously and he shivers as the last of the lights in the stalls section goes off. The room is dimly lit by now only by the small lights over the sinks. And Sam cannot ignore that they're still, somehow, alone in here.

"I'm sorry I didn't come today," the man says and he sounds sincere, though monotone. "There were too many people in there."

"Well, it's a group meeting," Sam smiles. "The people are kind of a given."

He feels like he's body is operating on a pure survival mode. It reminds him of his time in the military, in a way; of the time, where he had to put one hundred percent of his focus on staying alive and keeping other's from dying, too, but couldn't actually think about it. Because there were bullets flying by, and his hands were sticky with someone's blood, and there was a wound to stitch, and a person screaming. If he registered all of that in full, he'd just collapse on the ground, overwhelmed and paralyzed by fear. So it was easier to just switch his brain off and let the instincts and years of training take the wheel.

"If you're worried about confessing in front of others, it's okay." He keeps talking and the man's stare becomes even more intense. His eyes seem very blue, even in the poor lighting, which Sam didn't truly notice before. They look cold, but not because of the colour. More like there's not enough life in them. "There's no pressure to tell your story right away. Some people in my group love talking. Other's just sit and listen. If no one's up to talk, I take over and give a little speech," Sam grins.

And he somehow knows that if he looked into the mirror to his left, his smile would look genuine.

"I don't like talking," the man says eventually.

"I figured," is Sam's reply. "Like I said, I won't push you to say shit."

It's probably not the most professional way of phrasing it, but he's not at work and, frankly, he's about to be murdered, so it's not like they'll reprimand him for inappropriate language.

"Also," he continues, "I can give you a number to one of my colleagues who does one on one therapy sessions. That way you could..."

"No."

"...avoid groups," he finishes awkwardly. " Fair enough."

"Do you do it? The therapy? One on one, no people?"

Sam doesn't. And he'd probably lie about it, even if he did.

"Not these days. I already have a ton of work with groups. If you want to see me, specifically, you know where to find me."

Clearly.

"I do," the man confirms like it's not the creepiest thing Sam's heard in his entire life.

"Well, I have to go now," Sam tries, hoping that if he sneaks out of the bathroom fast enough this whole nightmare will finally end. If the guy's here to kill him, he's doing a pretty bad job right now, so maybe Sam could just... walk away from the situation. Surely, he won't get stabbed in the back in the middle of a bar? Right?

The guy's face contorts in a painful way and he finally removes his hand from under the jacket. Sam tenses, but the gloved palm is empty. At the same time, the guy sways a little on his feet and grabs the wet counter with both hands.

Before Sam has time to process what's happening, he's already next to the guy, holding his elbow carefully and looking straight into his eyes. The pupils are dilated and then suddenly small like a poppy seed, changing in a matter of milliseconds. Sam's never seen anything like it.

"Are you alright?" he asks unnecessarily, trying to keep the man from falling face-first into the sink.

They look at each other and the man seems panicked, more than anything. The unwashed strands of brown hair hang over his eyes, but this time Sam's too worried about him to let himself spiral again at the now familiar sight.

The counter makes a strained noise and a small crack appears on the surface. Sam imagines his own bones turning into dust under such grip and his wrist pulses with pain he felt in the background for the last few days.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, sounding more urgent this time. He doesn't even care at this point if the man's here to kill him. Sam's a paramedic first, and if someone's fighting for their life nearby, he'll always drop everything to make things better. Even if his body might end up in trashcan behind the bar for the effort.

The man blinks, licks his lips, and takes a ragged breath. There's a weird grey cast to his face now and he didn't even look that healthy to begin with.

"I have to go," he whispers finally and stands up. His forehead shines with sweat and his pupils are wide again. "Thank you," he adds quieter and walks away unnaturally fast.

He's there. And then he's not. The door closes so quietly behind him, that Sam doesn't even register the sound.

Sam sits down, not caring about the wet and disgusting floor and stares at the opposite wall in silence. In the women's bathroom someone laughs out loud and a sharp sound of the shattering glass reaches him from the bar.

It almost feels like he's lost his hearing for a while and it suddenly returns to him. As if he's been under water and came break to the surface once more.

He also tastes blood on his tongue and realizes he must have bitten it at some point without realizing. The unpleasant sting of a cut is what finally helps him to come back to himself. He cannot stay in this place a second longer.

He washes his hands again so they stop feeling as clammy and touches his face with them too. The cold water helps a lot, but his own eyes look wild in the mirror.

As he exits the bathrooms, he looks over the crowd that gathered inside since he fled the bar. Just as before, most people don't even look in his direction and he realizes that the man in a suit who stared at him earlier is gone as well.

Then, he turns around to close the door and suddenly he's faced with a bright yellow sign that warns: "Under Maintenance" in bold, black letters. An official looking printout below adds: "DO NOT ENTER".

None of those signs have been there before.

All Sam can do at this point is grip his bag, lower his head, and exit the bar as fast as possible. If he is getting strangled or stabbed today, he at least wants for it to happen in his home.

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Shoutout to tumblr for glitching a making me feel like I've lost over 700 words of a draft <3 That mini heart-attack was very necessary.

Btw, funny thing about this chapter is that I've basically spent the entire time thinking that I'm doing too much. Like... I keep pushing Sam deeper and deeper into this spiral, but nothing really happened to him. It's not a big deal, calm down, man.

But then I have to remind myself that if some suspicious looking man knocked on my door, told me that he got my address from a person I don't know, asked me where I worked, and grabbed my arm so hard it nearly broke... I would simply perish on the spot from the stress xD Or I'd spent the rest of my life paranoid, even if nothing more happened.

So I think Sam should be allowed to have a 4-day almost panic attack, as a treat.

[everafterkeiji]

𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐓. 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒

PAIRINGS: Haikyuu boys x fem! reader

GENRE: angst, pining, teasing, spicy level at 1?

A/N: i am hooked, captivated, jealous, and many more emotions🤨 this was honestly a little random but no complaints

⟡𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔's offhanded comments on an essay he didn't participate in was a bloodbath waiting to happen. Though you understood that he was in a tight schedule regarding practice and matches was a tough schedule to keep up with, the expression on his face when he sees the score ignites the rage that was kept tight when you stayed up just to pinch in to replace their mistakes and their unwillingness to cooperate that had you pulled out of calmness.

"Wipe that shit expression off of you, Miya. Maybe if you were there we could've done better but no." You huffed, while there's a chuckle from the blonde as he takes the paper from your hands, a punch to your efforts, while he waves it around before towering over you with eyes glancing to your lips before it goes straight to your eyes before he spoke,

"If you wanted the best, then I'm all yours to take."

⟡𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀 would go overboard majority of their practice so at those moments—you never know what to do seeing that you weren't on good terms anyway. He'd be too focused and frustrated to be communicated with while Hinata's drive to progress himself always mixes with the setters competitiveness then it leads to late practices making you stay until they finally leave.

"You two— c'mon I have to lock up. Get going already." Hinata smiles at you softly sharing his intents to stay a little longer while you shook your head. He gave out a defeated sigh while you walked to the storage room to make sure everything was placed to where it was but when you expected silence, it never came. The sound of heavy impacting echoes through the gym while you rolled your eyes to walk out and see the setter all alone.

"Kageyama, go home." You were down to the remaining ounce of energy you had left. You could only roll your eyes as you held the ball he was meant to hold as he blinks at you.

"I'm not gonna say it again. Let's go home already." He turns the other way around whispering, "Just one more." making you hold onto his wrist as he turns to you surprised but held a glare in secret. "Stop being so stubborn." Kageyama scoffs before holding onto your hand on his wrist, a slight tug while you leaned forward because of his actions.

"And stop trying to make me go home with you." You pushed him slightly with raised eyebrows, a fluster in your cheeks as you tried to pull away.

"Idiot- that's not what I mean!" You argued while his hand remained on yours as you both stared each other down. "It's not like I meant it that way either." Tobio said before letting go of your arm, walking away with his own heated cheeks while grabbing his bag and ending the day with one more glance to you.

"I'm going now, if you're going to come with me—then I'll see which of the choices you did mean."

⟡ 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 doesn't like the way your personality mirrored his twin. A duplicate of another duplicate. He saw how well you and the blonde had bonded and brought a migraine to his head, realizing that the annoyance he gets from his twin has doubled when it came to you but he does deny that there's an ounce of envy seeing that you were never that close to him and always favored Atsumu.

And now that you were in their residence, the laughter from you and the setter ticks him off as if he was a thirdwheeler in every situation—god, even in their house.

"Oi, do you mind? I think my controller is in Samu's room can you get it for me?" Atsumu asks while you shrugged before knocking over to Osamu's door. You figured that he didn't like you as much and you kept your distance but at times, you can definitely feel that the distance that had grown to a state that even you were confused in how it got that far.

You casually enter in, glancing at Osamu who was only busy on his phone but shares a stare to you when you wander around.

"What're ye looking for?" He asks, while you responded saying it was the controller. He stands up with a groan, noticing how messy the other side of the room was as you began to pick up a few shirts while Osamu cocks an eyebrow.

"Ain't no touching that, I'll clean it myself." He suggests but you continued nonetheless thinking that this may reduce whatever tension was there. Right at the moment where you reached for the jersey at the stairs of their bunk bed, Osamu had grabbed your wrist making you wide eyed before looking at him.

"I said I can do it." He says in which you followed with, "I just wanted to help you and Tsumu." He rolls his eyes but the proximity of you two is alarming especially when his hand was still wrapped around yours.

"Atsumu this, Atsumu that—can't you worry about me?" He jokes at first but there's warmth to your cheeks alike to his own, but he leans forward, a smirk to his lips. "Only you?" You asked before he spoke again,

"Only me and no one else, doll."

⟡𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀's bad start during mornings never get along with your rants along with Iwaizumi to help maintain the health of MSBY. Whenever Iwaizumi would be off to observe a different team, you'd be the subsitute. All of the things he's said to them—you'll be there to remind them all over again. In which repetitiveness irks him knowing they've been told before.

"We've been through the same routine. Today's not any special." Kiyoomi suggests, though you get how irritating it can be to act like a broken record—you knew Iwaizumi would do the same thing you were doing.

"And if we go through it like every other day, then we'll finish fast." You argued as Atsumu sends you a chuckle before leaning on his teammate.

"Not with all that yapping." Sakusa whispers making you scoff while Hinata and Bokuto share a worried glance.

"You've got something to say to me, Kiyoomi?" You asked, edging him on because you weren't entirely at fault. You were strictly just following Iwaizumi's orders.

The MSBY player then takes a few steps forward before lowering his mask and with a threat of a stare to look down on you.

"Why don't we stop talking and I'll show you a better routine?"

Atsumu rolls his eyes but rather entertained at the vanter unfolding in front of the entire team.

"Like you'll ever find a way to shut me up." You bragged but there's a chuckle from him before he leans forward—a close vicinity where his lips linger on your ears as a cold voice welcomes you.

"I'd like to see you try and stop me then."

⟡𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀 is the person that throws distanced glares when it came to you. Ever since the aggravating Atsumu teased you two as a perfect couple that he quickly declined followed by an unnecessary sentence saying you were impossible to date. You understood that you were never friends to even label it but since you were with the twins, you and Rintaro never hit it off the way you did with the Miyas'.

So even as you sat a few seats away from at the local bus, it irks you that this banter goes on even outside school. Looking away, there's a hand to your waist making you glare instantly at the man beside you while he only gives an appalling glance to your attire that made your blood boil as you struggled to move away from him.

"Get the fuck off me." You ordered him but he acts nonchalant. The moment you were about to raise a hand to show some defense, another hand travels to your waist while the previous hand around you was removed.

Gasping you turned to Suna who radiated a heated energy while the man scoffs knowing it was a facade to act like you were together.

"Hey now—if you don't believe she's my girl, then why don't you watch?" Rintaro threats as his lips lingered around your neck while you stood frozen. The destructive and taunting stare he gave to the man caused the bastard to move away not long before Suna had the chance to push him to the other side, cocking a smirk while he pulls you to his body.

"Thank you." You said, while he only shrugs in response, still cautious of the jealousy that lingers the mans eye.

"Seems like you'll be mine for the rest of the night."

[choibinn3]

GET IT TOGETHER, JUNGWON!!

[ four. O_o Yang Jungwonnie ]

series masterlist

⋆·˚ ༘ * in which jungwon had meant for that love letter to go to yeri, and not you—her bff. for some reason though, he finds that with each moment he spends together with you he's closer and closer to forgetting all about that damn letter.

luv note - chloe moriondo

WRITTEN PORTION. 1.9k words

btw remember that second hand embarrassment tag?? yeahh....

ps. this is bad, very, very bad and cheesy so be warned (its meant to be, but youll still feel pain lol)

—

student council room.

Jungwon could feel his hands clamming up, but he instead urged himself to just swallow down his nerves. For the past week he thought the biggest worry he had was his parents and Student Council work.

Not potentially losing friendships and breaking your heart.

"Jungwon? Are you still there?" your voice asked. It was slightly muffled by the door, but still distinct. "I had to tell Hyuka to go back without me."

You, he remembered. He had to fix this. He had known you since you were both in kindergarten, incidentally somehow being in the same classes up until High School. Still, he didn't know you though.

You were closer than acquaintances, maybe a little less than friends, and definitely not more than people with mutual friends. With everything that had been happening since the Student Council election, he had assumed he'd get closer to you naturally. It just never happened though, but he enjoyed your company when he could.

Yeri on the other hand, he was connected with. Being both Student Council President and Vice President meant they worked together often, and he found himself being drawn to her sweetness. He enjoyed their dynamic and their current friendship.

The way they worked complemented each other, and she always found a way to make him smile—it seemed as though her kindness and generosity knew no bounds. Plus, she related to him in a way none of his other friends did.

Late, after class and after hours, they'd both talk casually while doing paperwork. Jungwon's parents were hardheaded and stubborn people, wanting the best for him and yet stressing him out. They were the whole reason he ran for President in the first place.

He couldn't find it in himself to hate them though.

Yeri was the same, and she supported him throughout all the difficult times he went through because of them. She was soft, so level headed, fiercely loyal, and unbelievably pretty.

They had been partners and friends for a little over a month, and Jungwon was sure he wanted to at least try with her. It was young, new and unfurling feelings, it was something he wanted to find out.

Your energetic personality was charming, but that was all it was. It didn't strike his heart in any particular way. Jungwon was almost 100% sure there was no way Yeri would ever date him after this, but he needed to prioritize your feelings currently.

He just hoped Yeri and him could still be friends afterwards though—because being a liar was the one thing Jungwon wasn't.

"Yeah," he called out, "still here. You can just come back in now."

He watched as you nervously peeled back the sliding door of the clubroom, inching inside to peer at him. You walked closer to stand in front of him, and Jungwon smiled in hopes of easing your anxiousness.

You threw one back, although a bit hesitantly. "Jungwon," you started, twiddling with your fingers. He simply watched—wanting to at least let you talk a bit. Crushing your feelings now would be nothing but brutal. "Honestly, I was really surprised with the letter. Do you... remember back in 3rd grade?"

"No? I'm sorry, I'm not good with memories from Elementary School," the doe-eyed boy replied. He was telling the truth, grade school felt like ages ago and he just hasn't had the time to reminisce on childhood memories.

You held your hands up in a defensive manner. "That's fine! Um, you like... Uhh, how do I say this..." You made gestures with your figures, hoping to convey it to him in one way or another. God, this was dumb.

Jungwon observed silently as you laughed at your own stuttering. Endearing, came to mind. That was cute.

In the Council Room and in class, you were always particularly enthusiastic and excitable. Seeing you bashful was a very different side of you for the black-haired boy.

"I sent you my own love letter once. Like, a long, long time ago, and you sort of rejected me? I think."

"You think?" The boy held back a laugh, but quickly composed himself. He wasn't laughing maliciously, just... how could you be unsure of such a thing? "I'm sorry, but I still don't remember."

"Yeah, that's fine!" You nodded, embarrassed from his almost-chuckle. You did not want to seem like an idiot in front of him today. "Actually, I don't remember much either, but you didn't reply to it."

Jungwon gazed at your brows furrowed from trying to think of more words to say, and suddenly he felt a tonne of guilt fall onto him. His expression grew solemn.

Quick, get it over with, before this would get any worse.

"Look, YN—"

He had to shut his mouth almost immediately.

"What I'm trying to say is—!" You took a deep breath. "I've liked you since then! Since years, and years ago," you finally blurted, closing your eyes as to not see his reaction.

"You're the only one I've ever felt this way towards. I thought once I grew up this warmth would just... go away, but it hasn't and I don't think it will. I was honestly going to just swallow it all down hoping I'd get over it before we graduate, but I couldn't. My feelings were overflowing—I just found myself finding more things about I liked about you instead."

Your goal today was to not embarrass yourself, but to hastily tell him you liked him too before sprinting away. It seemed as though nothing was going to plan so far, for neither of you, actually.

Jungwon was left unable to speak from your surprising declaration. You took that as a sign to continue. Whatever happened next was something for future you to panic over.

"I like your dimples, that smile you make when you're passing by strangers in the hallway, and the way your hair falls when you comb through it. You're admirable in everything you do, truly. The way you help underclassmen, the way you always make sure to assist teachers during your free periods, and how you never seem to complain or get frustrated when we make mistakes."

You had nurtured your feelings for what felt like forever. Even when you were technically rejected back then, and even now. At first, you thought that he would be a passing crush from when you were a kid—but he wasn't. He grew into his own so much so that you found yourself admiring his leadership, compassion and thoughtfulness with each day you watched him.

"I like how mature you are, how you still find the time to care for your friends even with Student Council work, the natural way you light up any room you walk into, how I could honestly hear your voice talk for hours on end, how even though we haven't spoken much you still remember my favorite color from when I told you during introductions, I'm rambling gahh, just—all of it! I like all of it, everything about you!"

Everyday of harboring your secret affections for the boy consisted of soft glances during his speeches, wishes to be able to encase his hand within yours to interlock your fingers under the table during meetings, and wantings to be more than what you were to him. It was alright for a while, but it had started to become painful.

All crushes are painful, you told yourself in 5th grade, watching him start to receive confessions from your classmates.

"—I like you! I've liked you since the 3rd grade, and so I accept! I really, really want to be with you Yang Jungwon. Please take care of me!"

They were all painful, but you were given the chance to make yours not. To make your feelings real and acknowledged, to bare yourself in front of him like a vivisection—and you were taking it. Even when you were practically trembling from the embarrassment.

Jungwon was stilled from the shock. Heeseung had already told him of your long held feelings, but hearing it from your mouth while you had your eyes shut tight made him flustered.

How were you able to do that so shamelessly? To be so vulnerable and weak in front of someone? He had to write a whole letter, albeit a bit poorly, and somehow you were able to say it all.

He's received confessions before, felt those kind of feelings, but he wouldn't have been able to yell out those sort of things ever—no matter how strong his feelings were. You were dangerously bold, he thought.

Bold enough to send a bright heat to overtake his cheeks.

You looked up finally after mustering enough courage from his lack of speaking, only to find yourself blinking at a red-faced Jungwon. Oh my God, he's blushing...! YOU did that.

The both of you stood there for a while, thinking the same thought of what is even happening? Is this real, or have I just been in a daze for the past few days? Jungwon's eyes were comically wide and his mouth was gaping, but he couldn't find it in himself to close it.

The thought made you gain confidence all of a sudden, finding the opportunity to do something you had always wanted to do. Quickly and stealthily, you went onto your tippy toes—

and kissed him on the cheek.

Jungwon felt your lips on the smooth expanse of his skin, and smelt your scent from the intimate proximity. It was a chaste gesture, almost no where close to his lips at all, but he heard his heart beating against his ribcage nonetheless. It thrummed in his ears like a drum, and he wanted to whisper for it to stop.

For it to not be swayed so easily.

It was the innocence of such a thing that got to him. Not once had Jungwon held hands, kissed, or even confessed to someone up until now. Of course, you suddenly getting so close and pecking him with your hands balled up would send his heart into a flurry.

The usually put together Student Council President in front of you let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, the tips of his ears and face becoming rosier. His throat was closing up, God, why was his throat closing up? Not now, please. He couldn't even remember what he was meant to be saying.

You smiled at him, happy to be rendering him to such a state. It was one of the most impulsive things you've done up to date, but you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

This was what those coming of age dramas on TV were describing—it was the start of one of those cheesy, really bad High School romances. Fervent, mushy, uncertain, but so tender it made your heart ache for hours even after watching.

As you retreated slowly, he caught a glimpse of your bright eyes, downcast lashes, and—holy shit you were so close. He could see the particular way you curled your lips.

He had to hold his breath.

Jungwon watched as your expression morphed into one of slight mischievousness, and an inkling of something softer, before you dashed out the sliding doors—

"Wait!

The sudden motion made him gain his words back, but you were already through the hallways with your hand on your bag.

—leaving him with nothing but the memory and the patter of your footsteps. So fast, so much speed, were you in track? The past few seconds were nothing but a blur of confusion and feelings he didn't want felt.

What just... What just happened?

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TLDR (but whyy :( pls read it); jungwon goes to do take backsies on his confession, u kiss his cheek, he goes coocoo bananas!!!

TAGLIST; @lumixen @ghjasksdk @atinyyylove @jjikyuu @yjwooon @ncityy04 @tyunni @littlewolfieposts @xoxojayd3n @rosiechaengz @sunshine-skz @youreverydayzebra @hobistigma @plshhhhhhh @lokideadontheinside @alo-ehas @milkycloudtyg @bangtopia

send an ask or dm

i wanted to emphasize how new his feelings for yeri :] if u could guess what this could mean. alsoooo... did u notice how fast this went ? i intended it to be rushed and "in the moment" like it was in the scene hehe

[stellaluna33]

Ok I’ve been holding onto this thought all day. I’m no anti-logan person or anything but I’m not a huge fan of his either so when I say this, it’s sorta biased but anyways, I’ve been watching GG for the first time and recently have entered the logan x rory era which isn’t necessarily bad (but don’t personally ship them at least not yet) However, something in particular about them I just found so strange was the fact that so many of the supposedly big moments for a couple seemed so… anticlimactic, I guess?

Like I recently got to the episode where Logan gives Rory a Birkin bag (which is a whole other topic of mine) and she just felt like saying ‘I love you’ first and he couldn’t say it back yet but they did kiss. And that’s it. That’s just so strange to me b/c I’d assume it would be so much more build up towards Rory being the one to say ‘I love you’ first instead of someone springing it on her. There’s other moments as well that seem so casual when they’re so big which makes me feel a bit distant from the ship like.. gosh, I don’t know how to say it but it just feels like they’re there.

I dunno. Maybe time’ll prove me wrong?

Hi! Yeah, I don't know. I don't know if I've ever thought of it that way, but you're right! If you've read enough of my posts, I think it's probably pretty obvious that I'm not a big fan of Logan either... 😂 But I TRY to be fair... My husband is a lot more like Rory than I am, personality-wise, and so I was very curious to see how he'd react to Logan when he recently watched the show for the first time. The way it came out was that he HATED Logan at first, but gradually began find him more appealing and sympathetic and kind of charming (though I should clarify that we had to miss like the last quarter of Season 5 due to "technical difficulties"), which shouldn't surprise me (because he's RORY after all!) but I was a little disgruntled about. 😂 Because I just. Don't get it. So ANYWAY, all this to say, my opinion won't be unbiased either, haha. I also infamously dozed off and dropped my phone on my face when I tried to watch all of Logan and Rory's scenes to research for my fanfiction, so yeah, I think it's safe to say that I also found the relationship a bit... lacking. 😂. I don't know!

I don't know how other people view them, or even for sure what the writers' intentions were, but if I had to guess, maybe fans of that relationship see that casualness and emotional distance as a sign of... maturity, maybe? I would say that Rory's patience about him returning her "I love you" could definitely be read as a sign of maturity, her having learned from her experience with Dean and not wanting to treat Logan the way Dean had treated her... But yeah, overall, I confess I mostly just get a "going through the motions" vibe from them the vast majority of the time. I mean, I think they're fond of each other. Rory certainly seems devoted to him in her way. But there's just something missing. They're casual, but not in a way that makes me believe that they're just comfortable and natural together. It's hard to describe what I mean! But... Compare Rory and Logan's scenes with, say, Rory and Jess at their most comfortable, like the "22.8 miles" or prom conversations. There's just a relaxed and deep natural WARMTH there that makes them feel really comfortable, and I just don't get that feeling from Rory and Logan. This is probably where their fans would say that that difference was only because Milo and Alexis were dating in real life. I don't know, maybe there might be some truth in that, but it doesn't change the way I respond to each couple on an emotional level.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 04 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

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{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Fit For a Princess

You're listening to the chattering between Aslaug and Helga, looking at pieces of jewelry at the market place. You say something every now and then, but you can't shake away Ivar's stare. On the last days, two weeks or so, he's right there, sitting across from you on every meal, eyes burning through you. Hvitserk said he's studying you, still expecting you to snap, to decide you had enough of all this and want to go back home. To Wessex, where your older brother now rules. And Ragnar already said he'd take you back if you wanted, so there's that.

But leaving Kattegat hasn't even crossed your mind, not before and not now. How could you trade all you have here, and slide back into the invisible chains you had on? It wouldn't be just stupid, it would be the death of you. You're finally understanding who you are, the things you like, the kind of people you like. In England, you had to play a specific role, because everything was political. Here, you're just who you are. And you do what you want to do. This is true freedom.

“I really like this one,” Helga says, as your eyes wander through the many rings, earrings, and necklaces. “I'd like those two as well.” She continues as you pace around, further away from both women, turning the corner and then walking to another store. The pieces they have here are all made of metal, delicately bent into beautiful shapes. You caress a bracelet with the tip of your fingers, wondering if it'd look good on you.

“Don't waste your time with these cheap things.” The voice, that you now recognize immediately, makes you turn around. Ivar comes from among the people, only stopping when he's standing next to you.

But despite his attention being on the jewelry, your eyes are on him. “You're tall.” It comes out suddenly, because he never stood beside you like this, so you couldn't have noticed.

“Well, you're tiny.” Ivar glances at you, playing with one of the rings. “Anyway, you shouldn't be looking at these things. They won't suit you very well.”

Giving the old man an apologetic look, you randomly pick a bracelet. You don't get why Ivar is being rude, but, judging by what Hvitserk had told you, his brother isn't one to hold back. He says what he thinks, it doesn't matter how mean it may sound to others. You're still trying to figure out if this level of brutal honesty is good or bad. “I really like this one.” Searching on the small bag attached to your dress, you take four coins, way more than what the bracelet is worth, handing it over to the man and putting the bracelet on. The silver color is beautiful, and the drawings carved on it remind you of the pattern you saw on one of the boats that brought you here.

Ivar rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, sighing. “You are such a kind princess.” Dropping the ring, he starts walking side by side with you when you set in motion through the market. You weren't expecting that.

“King Ecbert was king of Wessex. This isn't Wessex.”

“(Y/N)! Wait for us.” Aslaug calls and you stop, giving her a look and a nod before turning to face Ivar, who towers over you.

“Therefore, I'm not a princess anymore.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give him a small smile.

“That's a shame, isn't it?” He lowers his voice, leaning closer.

“Not really.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give a little step back, putting a strand of hair behind your ears before giving him a little wave, walking back to where both women are.

After they're done shopping, as you walk back home, the clouds push themselves apart just enough for the sunlight to appear. That makes you stop, taking in the warmth on your skin, but it soon disappears.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Hvitserk calls, coming from the beach with his father, Ubbe and Bjorn, who's walking behind them. “We're going to meet some traders. Wanna come?”

“Why not?” You mumble, elbowing Hvitserk when he's close enough.

“Go put on some pants then. We're riding there.”

“Oh.” It's so absurd it's stupid, how you can't seem to do the simple things people know by heart here. “I'm not very good at riding.” Whispering, you tell him, not wanting anyone else to listen.

“I'll help you out.” He nods, tilting his head to where Bjorn is. “Without cracking your head open in the process.”

Smiling you nod before heading inside to change out of the dress. You're just about to head out when Aslaug tells you to grab a cloak in case it rains later, so you have to make another trip to your room. But soon enough you meet Hvitserk and the others again, reading the horses.

“Which one is mine?”

“Over here.” Hviserk guides to a beautiful white horse. “Give me your leg.” He says, and for a moment you furrow your eyebrows, but soon enough you understand what he means. Raising your leg, Hvitserk grabs your calf and you push yourself up, successfully mounting on the horse with his help. It feels funny to be this tall. You have ridden before, but most of the time you used a carriage. There was no need for a princess to ride on the back of a horse at Wessex. It's wild though, and you've grown to love wild things. “Keep your feet like this on the stirrups at all times. Don't put of your feet all the way in or it might get stuck if you fall. If you touch her with your ankles, she'll move forward. Pull the halters and she'll stop. The same thing goes to pull her left or right, but since we'll ride together she'll just follow the other horses.”

“Got it.”

“Your ass might hurt at the end of the day, so be prepared.” He warns before jumping to the back of his horse. “If it'll help you feel more steady, you can hold on the saddle, but trust me, you'll get the hang of it once you lose the fear of falling.”

“Have you ever fallen from a horse before?” As you speak, the small group starts moving, and your mare does the same, keeping their pace, slow at first until everyone starts galloping, and all air leaves your lungs. You hold tightly to the saddle, scared at first, but you remember what Hvitserk just told you. If you let the fear of falling win, you'll never learn to ride properly, and you'll never enjoy it. Slowly, you let go of the saddle, holding only on the halters, making sure it's loose so she'll feel free to run.

And the sensation is amazing. The wind makes your hair whip your face over and over, and you lightly shake your head to get rid of it. Glancing at Hvitserk, you mirror his position, a smile creeping over your lips. The landscape, green, blue, and gray, passes by in a blur, and you try to take it all in. It's beautiful, breathtaking. Almost literally, because when you finally stop, you're struggling to catch your breath.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” You answer, and Hvitserk nods before moving to stand next to his father and brother. You see a small troop approaching, riding up the hill.

“You're quite good at this,” Bjorn says, guiding his horse away from his siblings and near you. “A few more lessons you'll be riding like a true Viking.”

“I really like it. Its... Thrilling.” You're finally calming down, and your thighs ache a little bit.

“Wanna see the traders coming?” Turning his horse around, he gestures at a cliff, not too many miles away. “We could go up there, it'll give us a nice view.”

“Isn't it a little high?”

“The horses are used to it. C'mon.” Without waiting for your answer, he starts galloping away.

Glancing at Hvitserk, you hold the halter tightly to keep the mare from moving. “You think I should?”

“Sure, it has a nice view. But if you feel like the trail there is too much you come back here, alright? The horses are used to it but you're not.”

“Alright.” Touching the mare with your ankles, you loose the halter and she immediately moves, following Bjorn's horse. It doesn't take much until you're deep inside the woods, the horses now trotting. Bjorn keeps silent, giving you a few glances since you're slightly behind him.

“That way.” He says, and you just let your ride follow his. The smooth ground soon starts changing, with more rocks, and becomes unravel. When you see a steep slope, with apparently nothing to hold on to, you pull the halters, making the mare stop.

“I think it's too craggy.” You speak up, getting Bjorn's attention. “I don't want to fall on my first try.”

“She's used to this kind of inclination. You'll be fine.”

Considering it and also what Hvitserk said, you decide to leave the cliff viewing for another day, when you feel more secure on the horse. “I think I'll pass, Bjorn. Maybe another cliff where I can go on foot.”

“Don't be a pussy. It's not that craggy.” Then, he kicks his horse hard and it sets in motion. It doesn't surprise you, but when the mare moves as well, following him, you're startled, and in the sudden change, you let the halter fall.

Holding on the sell, you can only watch as Bjorn's horse easily climbs the slope, at a fast pace, and yours do the same. But when it suddenly turns left, around a huge rock, you lose your balance, and since there's nothing to hold on to, both your feet escape the stirrups, and you're pulled to the ground hard. Losing your breath, a sting on your ankle makes you yelp as you roll down the slope, only stopping once the ground is flat again. Rolling on your back, you take deep breaths, trying not to move the left leg since the pain is spreading through your foot and calf. “Damn it!” You exclaim, removing the hair from your face.

“(Y/N)!” It takes only a few seconds until you see Bjorn kneeling by your side. “Are you alright?”

“I just fell from a horse and rolled down a hill!” You speak fast, the pain on your back making itself aware. “Of course I'm not fine!”

“Let me take you–” He says as he starts to pull you up.

“No.” You cut him off, slapping his hands away. Bjorn has done enough for today. If he wasn't trying to be a freaking show-off, this wouldn't have happened. “Go get–”

“(Y/N)?” You hear his voice and breathes out relief. “I heard a yell.”

“Over here. Lying on the ground.” Annoyed, you cover your eyes with both hands. “Can you please see if my ankle is broken?”

“What happened?” He asks in a low voice, and you uncover your eyes to see him jumping to the ground, kneeling next to your stretched out leg.

“Bjorn made his horse bolt up the slope and mine followed.” You explain, giving him a hard glance, groaning when Hvitserk lifts your leg to remove your boot. “Easy there!”

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “But calm down, it's not broken, just sprained.”

“Shit.” Taking a deep breath, you sit up taking off the other boot as well and throwing it at Bjorn. “You can't keep yourself from getting me hurt, can you?”

“Me? Everything you had to do was hold on. The horse–”

“I'm not a Viking!” Bursting out, you look up at him. “I'm not some shieldmaiden, I'm still trying to fit in here and learn things. You can't expect me to follow your pace.”

“I just–”

“Bjorn, you should get back. Help father with the traders, I'll take her back to Kattegat.” Hvitserk interrupts him, and Bjorn leaves after a grunt, saying something you couldn't understand.

“And he thinks he has the right to be pissed!” Lying back down, you groan. “I think this is a sign to stay away from him. Every time he's in the situation, I get hurt.”

“Alright, c'mon.” Hvitserk pulls your arm until you're seated again. “You need to put some ice on this ankle, let's go.” Hvitserk takes your mare first, tying her up with his horse before mounting and pulling you up to ride with him.

Despite the slow pace he keeps, your back still hurts. Resting your head on his back, you sigh. “Why are you so quiet?” You ask after a while.

“I'm thinking about the right words to tell this to mother. She won't be happy.” He answers, a hand resting on his thigh as the other holds the halter. “She's not very fond of Bjorn already.”

“It was partially my fault too, I think. I let the halter slip and had nothing to hold on to.”

“You're know Bjorn likes you, right?” Hvitserk suddenly says, and you pinch your eyebrows together. This thought hasn't crossed your mind. “That's probably why he did that. That's how he... Gets a woman's attention.”

“Would you do the kindness of telling him it's not working?” Muttering, you rest both your arms on his back folding them as if his shoulders were a table. “Actually, I've been meaning to tell you... I met Ivar at the market place today.”

“...And?” He asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Nothing, just... It was nothing, really.” It's hard to understand exactly what you want to tell Hvitserk. You just can't seem to put your feelings or thoughts together. “I was looking at these things and he said they wouldn't suit me.” Stretching out your arm, you show him the bracelet. “I bought this there.”

“That's nice. But cheap.” Rolling your eyes, you remember Ivar said pretty much the same thing.

“He also said I'm kind. But that was probably in a mocking tone, so...” You get into Kattegat, and Hvitserk greets some people. “I don't know.”

“I believe it's safe to assume Ivar doesn't hate you.” Hvitserk slows down the horse when a group of kids run by. “If he did, he wouldn't put himself on your way like that... Or look at you the way he does.”

“And how does he look at me?” The words come out slowly because you're not sure if you want to know.

“The only thing I can say for sure is that he never looked at a woman like that.” You finally get to Ragnar's house, and Hvitserk asks a man to help you down. Once you're safe on the ground, he jumps off, telling the man to take the horses. “And I mean it in a good way.”

He puts a hand around your waist, helping as you jump on the right foot until the table in the main hall. “Do you think he–”

“What happened this time?” Aslaug asks, her voice already giving out that she's not happy.

“Twisted ankle. She fell from the horse.”

“Take her to her room, Hvitserk.” The Queen mutters, saying something to the girls who were following her. “And carry her this time if that isn't too much to ask.”

“Alright.” He replies, picking you up with a hand on the small of your back and another under your legs, quickly finding the way to your chambers.

Giggling, you give him a look “I love when your mother–”

“Careful with the teasing this time. I might just drop you to the floor and I don't care if your a princess who fell off a horse.” The fake angry tone makes you laugh again.

“My bad, Prince Hvitserk.” You snap back, rolling your eyes.

Aslaug has her maids help you bathe first, cleaning the dirt that is attached to your face and hair before lying you on the bed again and applying a piece of fabric with cold water on your ankle, keeping it elevated with some pillows. She isn't happy to know the whole story, despite you assuring her it's alright now. You could've died, she said, breaking your neck. But it's useless to worry about what could've happened. The best thing to do now is to focus on the ankle, which she said will be better in a few days, and let the whole incident go.

Later that night, you give little jumps to the main hall to eat something. It's just Ubbe and Bjorn, seated on a table at the corner. Nodding at them, not wanting to chat with Bjorn at the moment, you sit at the edge of the table in the middle, your back turned at both men, taking the jar and pouring yourself something to drink.

“How's your ankle?” Ubbe asks, and you look over your shoulder.

“It's fine. I'll be able to walk normally in a few days. But my back still hurts.” Completely ignoring Bjorn's existence, you turn away from them again.

Drumming your fingers on the table, you wait for the Queen's maids to bring your meal. When you feel someone moving behind your back, you assume it's them, and place your cup further away to open some space. But instead of the bowl with rabbit stew, a necklace is put down before you. And it's absolutely beautiful, with three blue stones surrounded by a golden metal, delicately molded around it. It's different from anything you've ever seen in Wessex. Taking it in your hands, you see Ivar dropping to the seat next to you, and you turn to look at him.

“What is it?” You ask, unable to hide the smile that comes to your lips.

“A necklace.” He simply says, and you roll your eyes at his tone. What a way to ruin the mood.

“Yeah, I noticed.” The smile slowly drops as your eyes go back to the piece, fingertips caressing one of the stones.

“This was made for a princess. Not those cheap things.” He gestures at your bracelet, and you giggle.

“Well, this is absolutely beautiful.” Glancing at him, you find he was already staring. “Is it for me?” You inquire in a lower voice, not wanting to make any assumptions that might embarrass you.

Ivar nods, lightly pushing your shoulder. “Turn around. Let me put it on.”

Doing as he says, you turn your back at him. Ivar takes the necklace and places it around your neck, and you hold your hair up so he can close it on the back. Once he's done, you let the hair fall before turning to face him, folding your left leg and carefully laying the wounded ankle on the bench between you and Ivar. “How does it look?”

You wait for an answer, but it doesn't come. Ivar's eyes were fixed on the necklace, but slowly, they come to meet yours. Tilting your head to the side a little, you feel heat spreading through your cheeks.

Shaking your head lightly and looking down, you take a deep breath. “Have you heard that I fell from a horse this afternoon?” You're glad you got your brain to function, changing the subject. “Twisted my ankle.”

Ivar's stare falls to your bare feet on the bench, the skirt of your dress pulled up to your knee. “Mother told me it was someone else's doing.” As he speaks, Ivar gives an angry stare at where his two brothers are, and it's obvious who he's looking at. “But I think you'll survive.” You feel his fingers caressing your skin, from your knee and down through your calf, so softly you wonder if he's really touching you.

“I will.” You assure him, biting back a smile.

“Ivar,” Ragnar calls, and it does take a while until you both look at where he's standing, near the thrones. “Your mother wants to speak with you.”

“What now?” He asks, annoyed.

“I don't know. Go ask her.” And he disappears.

“Guess I'll have to go.” He glances at you, grabbing the clutch.

But before he can push himself up, you grab his arm. Perhaps you shouldn't do it. Perhaps this whole thing is just some kind of joke he's pulling on you, but still, the necklace is beautiful and he was... Kind. So you lean closer to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for the gift. It's very beautiful.”

Ivar is frozen, even after you let go of his arm. He stands there, blue eyes locked on yours. Slowly, painfully slow, a smile comes to his lips. And it feels different. True, genuine. “You're welcome, princess.” He whispers before pushing himself up to his feet and walking away.

You're still a little dazed when the rabbit stew comes, and you can do nothing but play with the spoon. But heavy footsteps get your attention, and when you look at your side, you catch a glimpse of a very angry Bjorn disappearing inside.

He saw everything. And it takes you by surprise to notice that, the moment you laid eyes on Ivar, you immediately forgot Bjorn and Ubbe were here. Everything just... Faded away, and there was nothing else, just you and him. And this is not the first time it happens.

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07

[barsformars]

Tricky

//

g - fluff, slighttttttt angst, suggestive

p - san x reader

w.c - 1.9k

t.w - san touching reader's naked body

c - san takes care of you when you get injured and are left all alone at home. the catch is? both of you obviously have feelings for each other but.....san

a.n - uusjsjjs this was requested through private message! im sorry it took so long lmao uh, this is just 1.9k of plotless words nothing will be solved by the end of the story so its almost like word vomit???

t.l - @closer-stars @jeongyunhoed @fairyofdusk

//

"It's not funny," you snarled at the pink haired boy who seemed to be overly amused at this situation in which both your arms were put in slings. You had slipped over a puddle of water, and that had sent you flying down the small flight of stairs right outside the taekwondo dojang, resulting in two dislocated shoulders. San pressed his lips firmly into a tight line to stop the corners of them from quirking up. On one hand, he does feel really bad, but if he said you didn't look ridiculously hilarious right now, he'd be lying. "I wonder who was on the verge of tears earlier on."

"That's because you were in so much pain I felt so bad for having asked you over for a sparring session!" San defended himself, a small pout forming as he did so. "At least the body and shin guards saved you from breaking your bones."

Once the elevator reached your floor, San pressed on the button to hold them open while keeping a close eye on you as you slowly exited. You've never noticed how much arm or shoulder action happens when you walk, until now.

It was only when you stepped through your front door and noticed your roommate's house slippers still sitting on the bottom of the shoe rack do you remember that they were out on a business trip. Being alone at home right now wasn't an option for you when you couldn't do anything by yourself, but your roommate wouldn't be back till next week. You didn't want to burden any of your other friends so late in the night, you had no choice but to rely on San.

But things...are always a little trickier with him.

"I can only stay for tonight," San sighed as he placed his phone down on the coffee table. You don't know if it was a sigh of relief or one of frustration; he had pleaded over the phone for ten minutes. "But my manager said that they can send someone over to help you out for the next few days."

"It's alright, I'll ask Jimin for help tomorrow. If they aren't available, I'll let you know, yea?" San nods, though rather reluctantly. He trusts that you'll be able to take care of yourself, except physically for now at least.

San holds you by the waist to support you as you got up from the couch, keeping an arm wrapped around it as he brought you to the bathroom. "Please tell me you have a bathtub."

"I insisted on having one, glad it's finally of actual use."

"Oh yeah."

As you soaked in the warm bath that San had ran for you, you couldn't help but think of everything that has been happening between the two of you. The lingering touches, the jokes with double meanings, the way he gazes at you so softly, and the sudden tension that fills up the atmosphere following all those. San hasn't put a title over what this relationship was, and you've been too afraid to take the lead even though you knew that friends don't act like that towards one another. You didn't want to pressure him, he already has a lot on his plate. But he ought to give you an answer soon if he's about to see you in your most vulnerable state, right?

There comes another knock on the door, the tenth one in the whole duration of your bath. "I was being serious when I said don't try to act tough and do everything alone." The knocking continued on non-stop until you replied.

"You're an impatient one, aren't you?" You joked. "I'm done, I need help getting out."

"Not impatient, just worried." You hear his back leave the door for a moment as he stood up from the floor. And as politely as he could be while intruding into your private space, San pushed open the toilet door gently and stepped in after informing you first. You couldn't stop the giggle from escaping your throat when you took sight of him, his eyes shut close in consideration that you might not want him seeing you naked.

"Oh, you're laughing? At me?" San asked in disbelief as he pulled his arms that were searching for the wall back and rested his hands on his hips, a playful smile growing on his face. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're cute," you cooed, much to his dismay.

"I'm not cute!" San argued, his eyes now open and glaring at you, still rather adorably. But before you could tease him any further, San practically stomped his way to the bathtub, leaning down to your eye level as his arms gripped onto the sides. "Don't mistake my manners for cuteness, I'm not." He said, almost with a growl, as he reached into the water and wrapped his strong arms around your torso, pulling you up so that you could stand. Taking pride in the way your eyes widened in surprise, San couldn't help but smirk before giving you a quick peck on your forehead. "You're cute."

Once he got you out of the bathtub, San tried his best to not look at your body as he dried you up with a towel while you stood there blankly, still at a complete loss for words. "You're so rude," you told San after finally able to process whatever just happened a minute ago. The boy merely raised his eyebrows, his lips pursed. "Taking advantage of my injuries to show off your strength when you know how I feel about it."

"Well, you're not stupid, you know how I feel about you. It's only normal I act cool a little," San replied nonchalantly but you could tell that he was too afraid to look you in the eye. "Come on, let's go get you dressed."

"Also, just thought that you should know...." San paused for a moment to make sure that you dried your feet properly on the mat before continuing. "I almost patted your bare ass earlier on." You can't even blame him. With how touchy he and his members are, you aren't even surprised that touching people's butt has become their second nature. But even then, he really didn't have to tell you.

"TMI dude."

San had been watching YouTube tutorials on how to put on shirts with a dislocated shoulder while waiting for you to wash up earlier on. You wouldn't have known either if he wasn't showing off all the knowledge that he had learnt less than half an hour ago by trying to convince you quite passionately, and with demonstrations, about why a dress shirt would be much easier to put on than a t-shirt, especially in your case.

"I will. I will wear dress shirts until my shoulders recover," you sighed heavily in defeat. "But just for tonight, can you help me with a t-shirt? I want to sleep comfortably even if it's just for tonight."

This time it was San's turn to sigh as he reached out to pinch your cheek. "I already told you that it will hurt."

"Make it not hurt then." You shook your head so that he would let go.

"Just sleep naked then," San mumbled under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, causing you to scowl at the boy. He catches your expression and sticks his tongue out at you. "Am I wrong?"

"T-shirt," you stated firmly, refusing to comply even when you knew San only had the best intentions for you in mind. You already don't think you could sleep with two injured shoulders, much less with your crush staying the night with you, and definitely even much lesser with an uncomfortable sleeping outfit. "Or I'll bite you." Those words becoming a reality became much more probable when his dimples makes an appearance once again, resembling the dent on a mochi when you press into it with a finger.

"I don't think that's a wise idea right now, maybe next time-" he gave you a gentle boop on the top of your nose with his finger-"now, your majesty, may I help you put on your gold thread shirt made from silk of the finest quality on so that both me and you can be spared from getting ourselves into a tricky situation?" If you could throw a punch at San right now, you would, but all you could do right now was to sit on the bed quietly and accept the teasing. And also whatever San was about to do to help you put on the shirt.

You wonder if it's too late to change your choice of clothing after San kneels down behind you on the bed, his chest and toned abdomen almost plastered onto your back as he reached over your shoulders to grab your forearms. "I need you to put your arms a little closer together, we'll have to try to get both through the sleeves together," he explained clearly and waited for your nod before he moved your arms as cautiously as he could, his eyes studying every twitch of your facial expression to check for discomfort or pain. "Tell me if it hurts okay? Don't act tough, I keep telling you that but please, please don't act tough."

All you could manage was a soft "mhm", your throat feeling too tight for proper words to come out of your mouth. You wonder if San, like how you could feel the warmth of his hands and body, could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks too. "I'm going to pull both sleeves up now, it may hurt a little," San warned, one hand coming up to pat your head affectionately before he gripped onto the sleeves again. Even with how gentle he was being, a wince still manages to escape from you, putting a pause on San's actions as he tilt his head to look at you. "I'm sorry, it will be over soon." You nodded, fully trusting him.

Though there were still a couple more times your shoulders hurt before the sleeves were fully through, the little apology he makes every time that happens comforts you, and also, makes your heart beats embarrassingly fast. Getting your head through the hole was a much easier feat and it didn't take long before your shirt was on.

San got off your bed to fetch his backpack and for a moment you thought that he was going to pull out the painkillers that you were prescribed with but instead, he took out two boxes of shoulder brace. "When did you even get that?" You asked, amused and touched at the same time. The shoulder slings the hospital had put you in was terribly uncomfortable and while the brace may not be way better, it was still better than the sling.

"When you were getting your x-ray done," San replied with a proud smile.

"Aw, I would give you a pat on your head if I could."

Upon hearing that, San practically shoved his pink hair into your face as he bent down. "You can kiss me on my head."

"I will bite you."

[self-shipyard]

"I Will (Pt. 1): The Bride Team" - A Self-Ship Wedding Fic

SYNOPSIS: The first part of a special, four-part fic in which the bridal team meets up and gets the blushing bride ready for the big day.

Word Count: 1478

CW: Pre-Wedding Fluff, Mild Swearing, Mild Tension

Tag List: @guthound, @danieladimitrescu, @puppyships, @ava-ships, @awesomedanganronpaconfessions, @sinners-call-me-baby, @reigenhusband, @that-autistic-team-skull-grunt, @noellojello, @somethingscarlet13, @spookymasonjar, @vanityloves, @valor-selfships

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

"Turn your head," Sorbet instructed.

Lumaca looked up in the mirror at Sorbet as he held her curls in one hand and a brush in the other.

She had been studying herself in the mirror and thinking about her initial hesitation when he offered to help gussy her up for the big day. It wasn't that she didn't think he could do a good job; she knew he was an expert when it came to painting his and Gelato's nails. She had just worried about potentially bothering him with it.

Though, she was glad that he was so persistent in the end. After all, he did have the innate ability to make anything look lavish on a tight budget.

"Like this?" she asked, turning her head to the right.

"Yeah," he replied.

The brush's teeth glided through her hair, smoothing out any rough curls that were sticking out of her head. Each stroke smoothed it out more and more until he was able to hold all of her hair in one of his hands. Then, as gently as he could, he wrapped it up into a bun. He left two long strands on either side of her face.

He stepped back to study his work from afar, feeling rather proud of himself.

Then he noticed her shift in expression.

"You look nervous," he commented.

She looked up at him and gave him a little smile.

"I am a little," she admitted.

"What's wrong?" His head tilted slightly. "Today's a happy day."

"I am happy, Sorbet!" Her hand went to her chest. "I feel like my heart could explode right now; you know? It's racing like crazy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I mean after today, I get to..." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I get to spend the rest of my life with Ghiaccio. It's all I've been wanting and I'll get that privilege today. I'm just... Feeling a little overwhelmed with love, I guess..."

Sorbet sighed quietly to himself, and he kneeled down to her eye level.

"Ghiaccio feels the same way," Sorbet mumbled. "You should've heard him. Every day since you said yes, he's been rambling to me and Gelato. Rambling about how long he's been waiting for this. How he wants everything to be perfect for you. How he loves you so much."

Her eyes went wide, even sparkling a little.

His eyes, in the meanwhile, drifted to the ceiling as he continued on.

"I can't say we've ever seen him happier, and it's because of you..."

Sorbet stopped and looked back down at her when he heard her sniffle. Her hazel eyes shone with tears and her lips carried a smile that could challenge the warmth of the sun.

He squinted and pointed a finger at her.

"No crying, Lumaca."

"I'm sorry," she smiled as she began to fan her eyes with her hands. "I'm trying not to, but-!"

"No crying," he cut her off before she could work herself up even more. "Save that for when you go to meet your groom at the altar."

He realized a little too late that those words only made her even more emotional. Now she was biting into the inside of her lip in a vain attempt to stop her tears from falling.

"Sorbet, that's making it worse!" she giggled, a sound which awakened his playful side. If she was going to be like this, he figured he'd have a little fun with it. Who knows? Maybe, it'll loosen her up a little.

"Not my fault..."

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered into it.

"... Mrs. Ghiaccio.~"

She pulled away from him with a squeal, holding her ear and letting her laugh fill the room.

"Sorbet, you jerk!"

He too started to chuckle, taking some joy in hearing his friend laugh.

Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of a firm knock at the door. After motioning for her to stay seated, Sorbet got up and made his way to the sound of the knocking.

He peeked through the window.

"It's Formaggio and Prosciutto," he called back to her.

Within a matter of seconds, the front door had been swung open and in walked Formaggio with Prosciutto right behind him. They were both dressed for the occasion, in formalwear similar to what Sorbet was currently wearing; white collared shirts with red vests and ties, long black pants, and polished black dress shoes.

"Hey, hey!" Formaggio called out. "What's going on bride gang?"

"Hey, Formaggio!" Lumaca smiled over her shoulder at him. "Nice to see you're already dressed."

Formaggio held up a hand to his chest and let out a fake gasp.

"Why I'm surprised at you, Space Cadet!" The nickname made her scrunch up her nose a little. "You say that like I was hoping to skimp out for the occasion."

"Thank God you didn't," Prosciutto mumbled behind him. "A lot of us would've been pretty pissed off if you hadn't come prepared."

"Hey now," Formaggio tilted his head to look back with a grin at the other man. "I thought you were supposed to be the father of the bride, not MY father!"

Prosciutto sighed at him before turning his attention to the Man of Honor and the bride. "Good afternoon Sorbet and Luma...."

Taking one look at her made him stop and stare.

"Good afternoon, Prosciutto." she smiled.

Prosciutto gave himself a quiet moment to take it all in.

He knew this day was coming ever since she and Ghiaccio had announced the engagement, but now as he stared at her, it dawned on him that she, someone he saw as a daughter, really was going to be getting married.

And that he was going to be the one to give her away.

"You look beautiful," he commented, trying not to let emotion show in his voice.

"He's right, I mean damn Sorbet!" Formaggio suddenly chimed in before she had time to thank Prosciutto for his kind words. "You did a great job. Lumaca's looking good enough to eat."

She smiled warmly at his reaction.

"Thank you!"

Lumaca suddenly noticed that Formaggio had a devious glint in his eyes. Deep down, she and the others knew that he was wanting to add on some sort of suggestion. However, just as he had opened his mouth again, a knock came to the door.

Sorbet was quick to answer.

"Oh, thank God," he mumbled, looking out the window. "It's Gelato."

The door opened and in walked Gelato, dressed in similar formalwear to the others and his face a little frazzled. He and Sorbet greeted each other with a quick kiss.

"Ahh," Formaggio called out to the newcomer. "So, the last bridesman finally decides to show up."

"Shut your mouth, cheese head," Gelato laughed. "It's not my fault traffic was bad."

"What, just like it is every other meeting day?" Formaggio chuckled, while Sorbet closed the door behind them. "Buddy, it's okay to say that you overslept or something."

With a roll of his eyes, Gelato's attention went to Lumaca and his face lit up upon seeing her.

"Oh!" He gave a little wolf whistle that made Lumaca act all bashful. He trotted up next to her and kneeled once he was in range. "Well, would you look at that! Now, who could this principessa be getting married to, huh?"

"A handsome cavaliere with blue curls!" she chirped.

"What a lucky bastard he is," he chuckled while he stood back up. "Speaking of which, the wedding's in about twenty-five minutes, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sorbet went up next to Gelato, his hand resting on the small of his back. "We were just about to leave."

Though her face was lit up with excitement, Lumaca's eyes gained a hint of anxiety.

"It's..." she took a deep breath. "It's time already?"

"Just about," Prosciutto commented, looking down at his watch. "Sorbet's right; we should be heading out since it'll take fifteen minutes for us to get there. Let the two of them help you up."

Sorbet and Gelato both held out a hand to Lumaca, who took hold of them both and rose from her seat. She was careful not to catch herself on her dress or the chair as she stood up to meet them.

"There we go!" Gelato chirped. "Now let's go! We don't want to keep the groom waiting, do we?"

Lumaca looked over at herself one last time in the mirror, and it dawned on her that a bride was staring right back at her. In that moment, she was looking into the eyes of someone who was on her way to marrying the love of her life. The thought alone started to make her head spin.

Masking these feelings for the time being, she turned to look at Gelato with a smile.

"No, I don't think we do!"

[fandominvolved]

Safe is dangerous | SamBucky

Sumary: Bucky has a crush on Sam. Plotless fluff

Warnings: Swears, and just fluffy shit.

Bucky shifted slightly on the couch, the loose pillow strings kept getting caught between the vibranium plates in his arm. He didn't want to seem rude, but he really was considering destroying the whole pillow. Bucky shook his head and rubbed his flesh hand over his eyes, he has been shifting on the couch for what seemed to be the past hour. 

It wasn't even an uncomfortable couch, it was nice and soft. Not as soft as his bed back in his apartment, but still soft. Still, the softness made him feel as though he was falling. Yet, it somehow made him feel safe. And safe, something he hasn't felt in so long, is dangerous. 

Bucky sighed as he sat up on the couch. The couch groaned out from his weight. Bucky raised his eyebrows as he stared at the couch, silently judging it. He seemed to do that a lot, at least that's what Sam said. 

Sam and his perfect skin that seemed to glow under the sunlight. And that smile he had, the way his eyes crinkled whenever he got happy. The half smirk half smile he did whenever he teased Bucky, could-did-make him fall for Sam. 

And it's terrifying, the way he sees pieces of his old self coming back, whenever he is with Sam and his family. It reminded him of Wakanda, except this time he didn't feel alone. He had Sam. And that was enough. 

Bucky shook his head bringing his thoughts about Sam to a stop. 

Was it going to bother Sam and Sarah if he took a glass of water? He didn't want to push their hospitality any further. (Although he did technically force Sam to let him stay, but in his defense he didn't have enough money for a hotel)

Bucky stood up, the yellow (hideous really, but so, so, soft) blanket,  that was draped over his lap, fell onto the floor. A soft thud disturbing the silent living room. He walked towards the kitchen, keeping his footsteps light. He didn't want to wake them up, they already did so much for him.

He reached towards one of the cupboards, a yellow sticky note was pinned onto it. Sam's neat handwriting scratched into it. Bucky opened it, and reached towards a glass cup. Closing the cupboard he stilled, his muscles tensed up. Uneven footsteps descended down the stairs, almost as if they were trying to be silent yet didn't have experience doing so. It's fine. It's probably Sarah, or one of the twins. Maybe even Sam, he was a light sleeper after all.

"Buck?" A deep voice groaned out, his voice slurred slightly, it was obvious they had just woken up. 

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, turning his attention towards Sam. Sam, who didn't have a shirt on. It's normal to sleep without a shirt, it shouldn't be getting Bucky all flustered. Except it was. 

Bucky shifted his gaze towards the cup he was awkwardly holding in the cupboard. He-finally- moved the cup towards the sink. Turning on the tap, he watched as the water poured out and into the cup.

"Couldn't sleep?" Sam asked, walking towards Bucky, leaning his weight against the counter besides Bucky. He looked at Bucky's face, noticing the bags that seemed to get darker with each day that passed. 

Bucky shook his head, he brought up the, now full, cup towards his lips. He tilted his head back letting the water fall into his mouth. The coldness it brought enveloped him, bringing a satisfaction to his previously dried throat.

Bucky shifted his gaze towards Sam. He was staring at Bucky through half hooded eyes, it was clear he was tired so why was he up?

"What're you doing up?" Bucky asked, some of the water spilling down his chin disappearing under the collar of his shirt, leaving an icy trail in its wake. 

Bucky noticed Sam's gaze following the small droplets of water, before he settled his gaze back onto Bucky. Examining every single one of his features, as if he was committing them to memory. But, he couldn't be. After all, they didn't like each other. They're not friends, they just are fighting towards the same goal. Whatever that might be. All Bucky knew is he was following Sam wherever he went, no matter what. And that scared him. It wasn't the first time he followed someone without doubt, but in the end it was all a lie. A fantasy that was too good to be true. 

"I needed to drink something," Sam slurred out, one of his eyebrows twitching slightly. 

It was a lie. Bucky could tell easily. Especially since he spent so many hours just staring at Sam. Examining him. Memorizing every single quirk, smile and imperfection that made him Sam. Perfect. It was kind of funny how Sam thought he did it to annoy him, but the truth is he did it because he wanted to memorize him, scared that if-not if when- they went their separate ways it would be a goodbye. 

"You're lying," Bucky croaked out, finally finished with the glass of water.

Sam raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk, that made Bucky want to kiss it off his face by how much it annoyed him, making its way onto his features. 

"How d'you know?"

Bucky swallowed down the saliva that was building up. "Your eyebrow, it twitches whenever you lie" Bucky huffed out feigning annoyance that Sam didn't know that already.

"No it doesn't,"

"It does,"

"It doesn't- wait a minute, how do you know that?" Sam asked, shooting and accusatory glare at Bucky.

"I am used to noting these things about people," Bucky explained hoping that Sam didn't catch on to the somewhat lie.

"Right, so that's why you stare at me all day? Noting down every single thing I do?" Sam asked, walking closer to Bucky, his shoulder bumping into Bucky’s left one. 

He would give everything just to feel Sam's bare shoulder rub up against him, to touch his chest. Bucky felt his right hand slowly get clammy, he shouldn't be thinking about this. 

"It's a force of habit," Bucky forced out, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. He only hoped it wasn't noticeable to Sam. 

Sam hummed. He stared at Bucky with his wide brown eyes. "I'm sure that's all it is, right?"

Bucky tensed up. This wasn't good. Did Sam know? He was surprised Sam hadn't picked up on his obvious pinning before, but maybe he did know but never mentioned it. That's worse than Sam mentioning it, because at some level Sam must have been disgusted with him. Disgusted that Bucky let himself feel this way about a friend. No, not a friend. 

"What?" Bucky whispered out, he breathed out shakily trying to calm down his racing heartbeat. Sam felt closer than before, almost like he moved closer to Bucky. 

Sam wrapped one of his arms around Bucky's waist. Squeezing slightly, a gentle reassurance. 

Bucky's mind blanked. The only thing that he was thinking, feeling, was Sam. He feared that his heart was going to burst out of his chest any second. This wasn't what he expected when he decided to drink water, doesn't mean he didn't like it. It was good, but it was also scary. But he wanted this didn't he?

"Sam?" 

Sam shook his head, "a force of habit? Then why do you look all flustered right now?"

Bucky closed his eyes trying to calm himself down. It was useless, with the way Sam's body was a comfortable warmth on his. Like puzzle pieces, they fit with each other perfectly. Bucky only hoped Sam felt the same way that he did, and this wasn't a cruel joke. 

"Come on Buck," Sam murmured against his ear, the deep voice making goosebumps rise up in his skin. "Don't get all shy on me,"

"I'm not getting shy,"  Bucky mumbled. He stared at Sam out of the corner of his eye. 

Sam exhaled out of his nose, almost like Bucky wasn't understanding whatever he meant. And to be frank he didn't, he was scared he understood the signals wrong. That there was nothing there. It was just dude being- Oh.

Sam's mouth fitted perfectly against his. And  shit, Sam was kissing him. His mouth moved slowly against Bucky's , almost as if he was terrified to do anything else. That if he took it a step further Bucky would tell him to stop. 

But Bucky would never tell Sam to stop. Especially not for this. 

Bucky brought his metal arm towards Sam's jaw, careful not to hurt him. He angled Sam's head slightly deepening their kiss. Their lips made a dance that only they knew. 

Sam's tongue poked out of his mouth, tracing Bucky's lips. And he couldn't stop the sigh that fell out of his mouth, only to be swallowed by Sam's.

Their lips separated, Bucky opened his eyes to find Sam already staring at him.

"This isn't going to end well,"  Sam panted out. And he was right, thus was going to end in a big mess that would leave Bucky more broken than he already was. But, did it have to?

Who's to say Sam has to be another Steve. That all was for nothing. There's a chance of whatever happens between them being beautiful. And that single thought kept Bucky going. Because they can only heal, if they're together. 

Bucky shook his head and reconnected his lips with Sam's. Sam's lips were soft, they reminded Bucky of falling. Yet, it made Bucky feel safe. And maybe safe isn't a bad thing after all. 

[jusananimehoe]

I'm so sad and mad about that Geten cheating one 🥺 can I have a second part in wich the reader leaves him please, you can decide who it ends

Because I have hurt you, here I am to fix it anon! And here to save our damaged reader is.... surprise ;) This was so self-indulgent and I aint a bit sorry, I couldn’t resist having my two baby boys fight over our dear reader. xx

You ran, and ran, and ran some more, feet scratched and bruised, hands trembling, sobbing and whimpering from the cold. It had been a miracle you’d gotten away at all, but if you didn’t move, fast, it wouldn’t matter at all. Geten was as possessive a male as you’d ever met, if he caught you after your little escape your punishment would be far worse than death, though if this icy rain didn’t let up it would be pneumonia that got you first. You’d been on two trains, a bus, three cabs, just to put distance between the two of you, but the money you’d stashed had quickly dried up.

Your eyes flickered wildly as you heard footsteps behind you, you sobbed, covering your mouth, and bolting down the nearest alley, ignoring the horrible pain in your feet, rounding a corner and slamming against something warm, something solid, you fell back onto the concrete, whimpering as you grazed your knuckles, eyes flashing up in terror to the strange mask he wore, crawling backwards in terror, hitting the alley wall and curling in on yourself. That mask, you knew those masks, the Hassaiki wore them, you’d just in to a goddamn yakuza member, of all the luck. You kept your eyes trained down even as your heard him step closer, you felt, rather than saw, him lean down so you two were eye level.

Footsteps sounded on the opposite side then and your head flashed up, eyes meeting with icy irises, features etched with rage, ice crackling over his head as you sobbed and crawled viciously back, staggering to your feet to run only to collide with the man in the white coat again, who, to his credit, swept an arm carefully around your waist and pressed you behind him gently, mask turning to face your lover as he stalked forward, before going very still.

A moment later something flashed from underneath his hood, something silver, cutting a shallow line across Geten’s cheek, who stumbled and fell, eyes snapping up furiously to the man in the coat, but he’d slowed, like he couldn’t move any faster, a quirk. The hooded man turned to you, slowly, mask cocked to the side as if he were curious, before reaching for you, slowly, as if to not startle you, offering his hand. You blinked at him for a moment, then gazed at Geten, still glaring at you from where he was crouched, eyes flashing dangerously.

You took the offered hand, winding your fingers between his and let him pull you close, into his warmth as he walked away from the ice wielder behind the two of you, other arm wrapping tightly around your waist to help you keep pace, when he noticed your limp, however, he stopped quickly, eyes flashing down, taking note of your bloody feet, before lifting you off your feet, despite your spluttered yelp of surprise. You barely fought him, he was stronger than you were, had a quirk that could incapacitate, clearly, and you were so fucking exhausted.

Your tears started falling again then, sobbing softly, head turned to his chest to hide away somehow, and a warm hand pressed to your head comfortingly. “You’re alright now little one”, his voice was light, not at all deep and snarly like you’d grown so used to, it made you shiver, but you were glad, it was fitting somehow. Your eyes drooped in exhaustion, his careful strides lulling you to sleep even as you tried in vain to fight against it. “Sleep, I’ve got you”, was the last thing you heard before you drifted off in his warm arms. I didn’t ask his name.

When you woke, you were wrapped up in a blanket, in a warm bed. Your feet didn’t hurt as much, when you yanked the blanket off them, they had been bandaged carefully, you nearly sobbed just at that. Your bruises had clearly had some kind of ointment rubbed into them; they had faded amazingly. The small cuts littering your legs and arms had been coated in antiseptic and bandaged, your blinked and sat up slowly, legs shaky. You glanced around, the room was squeaky clean, pristine even, it made you shiver nervously, where were you?

The door opened, and you flinched backwards, sitting right up the edge of the bed, against the wall, nerves on fire, waiting for whatever horror was about to come through the door. It was the man in the white coat, with the strange bird like mask on his face, you tried to ignore the relief that flooded through you when you realised it was him. He closed the door behind him, fingers dancing over the light-switch, giving you warning before he flicked it on. You blinked sleepily, eyes flickering to his mask, watching nervously as he reached up slowly to pull it away from his face. He sat it gently on the dresser, flicking his hood back and turning to look at you.

You drank him in, from his silver hair, oddly shaped like clock needles, to his brilliant silver eyes, the sharp jawline, if you’d been in any state of mind to be stable, you’d be able to appreciate how beautiful he was, maybe even pursue him, but you weren’t ready, your body still stiff and terrified. He might have saved you from Geten, but he could be just as sadistic as he had been, you didn’t know him, so you cast your eyes down nervously, and waited.

“I don’t really know what happened to you, who you are, who that scum up there in the alley was, but you’re safe here, I promise”. His voice was soft, kept carefully even so as not to startle you. “I’ve spoken to our boss, Overhaul, you might have heard of him”? You had, and he terrified you. He must have read that in your expression because he shook his head lightly, a soft smile aimed your way, “you’ve nothing to fear from him so long as you don’t cause trouble or make a mess”. You relaxed slightly, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze nervously.

He cocked his head at you, biting his bottom lip gently as he smiled. “I promise, no one here will hurt you, you’re safe with us”. You whimpered at that, eyes falling shut as tears dripped down your cheeks, tugging your knees up to your chest as you sobbed. You felt the bed dip, but didn’t look at him, not until that warm hand caressed your cheek with a gentleness you hadn’t seen in years. It made you want to melt against him, though you dismissed the notion instantly. You didn’t pull away from the soft touch though, allowing him to continue stroking your cheek softly, his eyes glittering angrily at the faint outline of what you were sure was a week-old bruise.

You closed your eyes then, leaning your head softly against his chest in a daring show of trust, he’d saved you after all, and he was so warm. He carded his fingers slowly, carefully through your tangled hair, humming softly under his breath, fingers scratching soothingly at your scalp, lulling you into a warm bubble of safety. “I’m Hari, by the way”, he whispered softly against your head. You nearly let yourself smile, Hari, it was a lovely name, it suited his delicate, boyish features. You blinked exhaustedly and glanced around curiously again.

“If you don’t like the room, I can probably find you another that would suit your needs better”. You blinked in amazement, mouth dropping open as your eyes met his, this room… was yours? You blinked back a few more tears, eyes watching him warily as he brushed a few away with a slender finger, eyes full of warmth, affection, all things you had long forgotten existed. “It’ll be okay, eventually”, he whispered softly to you, smiling softly as you crumpled against him again, sinking into the warm embrace, already growing addicted to the tenderness of it.

“Geten”, you chocked out, body trembling in terror even as he rubbed your back soothingly, shaking his head, eyes glittering with an emotion you couldn’t name.

“I dealt with it, I struck him with the short hand, gave us plenty of time to get away. He’ll never find us down here, and even if he did somehow manage it, the Boss would kill him”. He sounded so sure, so calm, so completely not concerned about the possibility of your power-hungry ex-lover coming storming into their base. “Stop thinking about it, I promise you’re safe from him now”, his voice was calm, soothing, like running water, so lovely to listen to. You relaxed in his embrace again without meaning to, eyes falling closed, exhaustion winning out as his nimble fingers scratched slow circles across your back.

Maybe people did get second chances after all…

[loveburnsbrighter]

Like a Blushing Rose

Written for a lovely anon who requested little embarrassing moments :) read it on ao3

"What was that?"

David freezes.  Maybe if he stays really still, Patrick won't be able to see him.

"David," Patrick says with a huff of laughter.  "I can still see you, even when you stand really still."

Okay, fuck that plan, then.  David relaxes.  "What was what?"  He says as breezily as he can manage.  (Nevermind that he's not breezy at his best.)

"David," Patrick says again, in his patented teasing voice.  "Did you belch?"

"Okay, firstly, that's a gross word and I hate it," David clarifies, because Patrick's vocabulary, as it turns out, is atrocious.  "And secondly, no, I did not.  That's a disgusting thing to do in public."

"Is it technically public if it's just us two in here?"  Patrick cocks his head, a show of innocence that's so full of shit, and gestures at the admittedly empty shopping floor.  

David bristles to hide the little shiver that just us two gives him.  "Please don't remind me that we're quiet," he snaps instead.

Patrick just laughs at him.  "Told you the cafe's Super Burrito was a bad idea."  

"You know what, this isn't a discussion we're having," David announces.  He hates how out of control he feels.  He hates that Patrick is having fun humiliating him.  He hates that he actually doesn't hate either of those things, that Patrick's savant-level ability to press all of his buttons with  complete accuracy gives him a little thrill that he's chosen not to poke at thus far.

The thing about the beginning of a relationship is that there's no way of knowing how the other person will react as you slowly become a little more accessible to them, a little more human.  In the scant few weeks they've been dating, David has tried to stay at his filet mignon for Patrick, and now he's unwittingly exposed himself at his Super Burrito.

"David, it's okay," Patrick says gently.  "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Oh my God."  David tosses his hands up.  "How are we still fucking talking about this?"  

He cringes, expecting Patrick to be cowed by this, but he should know better at this point.  Patrick is smiling at him, endeared by David's harshness rather than repelled by it.  "Would it make you feel better if I burped, too?"

David's jaw actually drops in horror.  "No, it would not.  Literally at all."

"Okay," Patrick says, holding his hands up in surrender.  "But I just want you to know that there is really nothing to be embarrassed about.  You can't always control your body, right?"

David really doesn't know how to handle Patrick's blend of teasing and gentle sincerity right now.  Humiliation wars in him with his desire to let it go, because for some reason Patrick hasn't turned away at him, even after doing something as disgusting as — he has to swallow a gag at the thought — belching in public.  Finally, he sighs and looks at Patrick.  "Can we just drop it?  And never bring it up again?"

Patrick's eyes soften, though the teasing smile doesn't slip completely off his face.  "Consider it forgotten," he says.  And when he scrubs a firm hand over David's back, David lets himself think, maybe.  Maybe this, the first guy to still want to touch him after seeing his body betray him, maybe this one will work out.

There's a wet spot on David's shirt.  

It takes him a moment or two to orient himself — they're at Ray's, and Ray is out with a client.  It's their day off from work, and they're on the couch, and they must have fallen asleep watching TV.  Patrick's head is resting on David's chest, and his mouth is slightly open, and… 

Drool.  Patrick has drooled on his shirt.

David is first horrified by the drool on his shirt, because ew, and then he's horrified because in equal measure to his horror, he finds that he's finding this whole thing endearing.  And a bit relieving — finally, a tangible physical flaw, a little imperfection to prove that Patrick is a real person, who apparently drools in his sleep.

It's endearing enough that instead of leaping up and spot cleaning his shirt immediately, David finds himself petting a hand over Patrick's hair.  Patrick snuffles, and David does it again, encouraged.  When he runs his fingers between the shorn strands — not tugging, just seeing how it feels — Patrick sniffs and shifts and blinks awake, and David tugs his hand back guiltily.

"Mm," Patrick says, voice thick, not lifting his head from David's chest, "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour and a half," David says, petting his hair again.

Patrick groans, wipes his mouth and lifts his head, and then he pauses.  "You got something…"  He points to the wet spot on David's shirt, and then stiffens.  "Oh my God," he says, and covers his face.  "David —"

"It's okay," David assures him, because for some reason it really is.  Because it's Patrick, and David has learned over the past several months that he'll make a lot more allowances for Patrick than he ever could have thought.

"It only happens when I sleep during the day," Patrick says from between his fingers. "I'm so sorry, I'll pay to have your shirt cleaned —"

"Hey," David says, pulling at Patrick's fingers.  "Don't touch your face, it's bad for your skin."  He succeeds in prying Patrick's hands away from his face, which is bright red.  David can't help but touch it; the warmth radiating off Patrick's skin is intoxicating, which is a thought he's interested in chasing down the line — but not right now.  "It's fine, Patrick."

Patrick chances a look up at him with the biggest set of puppy-dog eyes David has ever seen on an adult.  "But your shirt!  You're not mad?"

"I'm as surprised as you are," David tells him with absolute sincerity.  "But I guess…it's kind of…," he takes a long pause, looking for a word.  "Endearing."  He cringes, waiting for Patrick to react.

Patrick reacts by blushing harder, which David thinks is very fun and adorable of him, the bloodrush painting his ears, his neck.  "Okay," he says.  "I'm…really embarrassed," he admits.

"Mm, shocking," David can't help but tease.  "It's okay, Patrick.  I promise."

"Oh, you promise?"  Patrick shuffles up, eyes dropping to David's mouth.

"Mhmm," David says, smiling into the kiss Patrick offers him.  He pulls back and leans his forehead against Patrick's, and he can't help but think that maybe, at this exact second, everything really is okay.

They're driving home from a conference when he sees it.

David generally doesn't attend these sorts of functions, but this one was a one-day affair in Elmdale, there and back without having to stay in a dusty motel (Patrick had hit David with the driest expression in his repertoire when David had expressed this point), and there was a workshop called "The Power of a Cohesive Aesthetic," so David had agreed with what he considers to have been a very modest level of bitching.

The radio is on low and Patrick is relaxed, one hand on the bottom of the wheel and the other on David's thigh, chattering about the Greater Elms Business Association panel he attended, and David can't really be blamed for letting his attention drift a bit; watching Patrick's face move through his excitement is simply much more fun than actually listening to what the CFO of Elm Glenn's premiere laundry facility had to say about bargain buying.  They will not be applying that to the Apothecary, thanks so much.

David lets his gaze drift down Patrick's profile — the slight curl of the hair at his neck that says he's overdue for a cut, the stiff collar of his teal shirt, the strain of the fabric where he's rolled his cuffs up, the long, transparent sticker that reads XL XL XL XL down his chest — 

Wait a second.

"Um, Patrick, honey?"  David says delicately, completely disrupting whatever Patrick was saying about cheaper office supplies — although, actually, if Patrick wants to cut costs, carbon paper and premium colored ink are surely the places to do it.  "Is that a new shirt?"

"Yeah."  Patrick glances at him for a second, one eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly.  "You were with me when I bought this.  Do you not like it?"  He frowns.

David does remember — after being coerced into Kohls on the promise that he wouldn't have to try anything on himself, he'd actually quite enjoyed the little fashion show Patrick had given him, and it had gotten him into slim-fit jeans (he didn't buy them, but, baby steps).  And he remembers thoroughly endorsing this color on Patrick — it brings out his natural coloring a bit, so that even under the harshest fluorescents he doesn't look cadaverous.  That assessment is what probably led Patrick to wear it to a conference at a university, with its stupid economical lighting and paint jobs.

"I love the shirt," David says emphatically, because he doesn't want Patrick stuffing it in the back of his closet, never to be seen again.  "Um, it's just.  You've got a price tag..?"  He reaches over and delicately plucks at a corner of it; it separates from Patrick's chest with a soft ripping sound.  

"Oh my God," Patrick says; his eyes are on the road, but his ears redden considerably.  "Do you think that was there all day?"

"Um.  I don't think it magically appeared there halfway through the day.  So."  David cringes, trying to be sympathetic but unable to imagine leaving the house without checking over his clothes first. 

Patrick's face only flames further.  "I talked to so many people today!  David, I had a whole conversation with the president of the Greater —"

"Greater Elms Business Association, I know," David says, pained that he's in love with a man who cares about the opinion of the Greater Elm's Business Association's president.

"They must have thought I was an idiot," Patrick says miserably, shaking his head at the road.  "Damn it, and I really killed them with that joke about British accountants…"

David grits his teeth over that one.  "I'm sure they didn't notice.  I mean, I didn't notice, and I think I pay just a little more attention to your clothes slash body than the average person?"

Patrick's mouth twists.  "I guess that's true."

"Um, you guess?"  David paws at Patrick's shoulder playfully.  "When we get home I'll get you out of this shirt and prove it to you."  He tries for a sexy growl, knowing the effect will be more goofy (he's not really the growling type) and that it will make Patrick laugh.

He does laugh, just a little bit.  "I know what you're doing, David," he says, smiling sideways at the freeway, "and if you try to distract me now I will send us straight into a guardrail."

David pulls back.  "Wouldn't want that."  But Patrick's blush is almost gone.  "So…what else did you learn at your panel today?"  He knows he'll regret asking, but as Patrick lights back up and launches into a detailed description of whatever it is (so he's already zoning out, can he be blamed?) he's glad that he did.  He laces his fingers with Patrick's and watches his expressions shift and change, and humoring Patrick, pleasing him, lifting him back up is so easy and feels so good that David thinks he could do it for the rest of his life. 

[lovemecharlie]

Uh Oh, Charlie

This is directly after Good Time, Charlie. Italics were written by Angel and taken from her fic 32 Weeks.

“I think we should fuck consistently until you’re over him.”

“Tuh.. Sounds like a lotta fuckin, let’s get started.”

Over the month Charlie had been messing with Trevante, they barely spoke about her husband, choosing to act as if she were single. In Charlie's mind, she was. Charlie knew burying feelings was an ineffective and unhealthy way of dealing with the anger and bitterness of rejection, but she also didn't want to dwell on negative feelings knowing that her life had to go on. Trevante was more than willing to play distraction, wining and dining her at cute spots that were out of his comfort zone. It was cute and he was honest. She felt more herself than she had in a while.

As for their arrangement.. It was sex, sex, sex, and more sex back to back and for hours whenever Charlie and Trevante had free time. They'd had sex on the hotel bed, chair, in the shower, on the sink, in the women's bathroom on the main floor, in the pool, in her car, in his car, in his barber's chair at work when no one was there.. that was her favorite because he gave her a clean undercut after.. in his bed, on his kitchen counter and table, in his bathtub, on his couch. The sex was great and it was often.

However, something strange had been happening. For perhaps the fifth day in a row, Charlie woke up feeling like Hell above ground. She woke with nausea and an aggressive case of heartburn that felt like acid reflux. Her body was fatigued and she felt achey like a virus was coming on. She still felt the ghost of Trevante's strong fingers hard on her sides and on her hips. Rolling from the bed, she ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach, wiping her mouth with tissue and rinsing with mouthwash. On her return to the bed, Trevante was awake and he looked concerned.

"That's the fourth time that I've seen you vomit this week.. and that's only what I've seen. I think you should go get checked out and before you say you're fine.. you're not fine." His voice wasn't loud or accusatory like N'Jadaka's would've been in that moment. Trevante was way easier to deal with.

"It's probably a virus or maybe I got food poisoning from the Thai restaurant we went to last week."

"We ate the same thing. I don't think so," he squinted. "Plus, if you had a virus I'd be as sick as you as much as I'm around and up in you."

"I don't know what else it could be," Charlie shrugged crossing her arms stubbornly.

"I have a guess," Trevante's brow raised and they stared at each other in a long moment of silence.

"...It's probably heat exhaustion. Oh my God, it's a heat stroke." The look in Trevante's eyes said he knew the truth and Charlie needed to accept it and come to terms. She didn't want to even think of it. "Tre, it's probably the heat," she reasoned again silently begging him to agree. The hotel had A/C, it wasn't the heat. She simply felt awful. "...And I'm supposed to go to Angel's gender reveal party today and be all fancy in a gown and heels? I don't know how this is going to work."

"You don't owe anyone an explanation of what we've been doing." His hands folded behind his head, vibes of tranquility wafting from him to Charlie, keeping her calm.

"I don't wanna talk to my estranged husband at all. I don't wanna see him, I just want to support my Angel on her big day." She moved to the small closet to grab her white and gold dress laying it on the bed. "I think I'm pretty much over my anger and the whole situation, but real talk. I've been thinking about this for a while. What if my husband found out we were fuckin and came to attack us?" She stared at Tre as his calm smile widened. He didn't take it seriously. "Tre, I'm serious." She felt paranoid, but she knew Erik's mind.

"With all due respect, Charlie? Like I've told you again and again.. I'm not afraid of him. I'll be in the same barbershop he saw me in before, cutting hair. It's good. He can come through anytime, get a shape up," he joked.

"You're not taking this seriously, do not underestimate him. He's done some things."

"He's crazy, I know," Trevante nods rolling his soft eyes. "Half the niggas on my block crazy. Everybody crazy. Don't worry about me, beautiful, I've been crazy too. I can revert if need be."

"How are you so level-headed and unbothered about all this?" Charlie sighed. He sat up and climbed from the bed, still fully naked in all of his chocolate glory to wrap his arms around her in an embrace.

"Stop worrying so much. Peace is attainable if you're vigilant."

"You and that poetry," she smirked.

---

"Okay, everyone!" An ever stunning Janelle Monae spoke into the microphone. Angel had asked her to host the event, and much like most people, couldn't tell her no. "It's time for the moment we've all been waiting for! Ryley and Henny planned the coolest gender reveal ever, a firework show! So if you're ready, let's travel outside of this lavish tent and see the show!"

Charlie felt as though she were being watched and she had the suspicion that it was of Erik's doing. It was definitely something he'd do, hire people to watch her. Her nausea increased. How much had they seen? There were people left and right and she looked at all of their eyes. Erik's eyes were the only ones she avoided since she could sense a conversation in those dark brown peepers that she didn't care to have.

It was a sticky situation she found herself in. She absentmindedly felt on her own stomach pudge, praying for the nausea to be a product of food poisoning as everyone watched the night sky. A baby was not ideal. She'd been good on her own needing Erik for nothing and she'd already begun to rediscover herself and her own happiness. She refused to go backwards.

"Charlie! Come sit with the fam," Homie pulled her so that she sat with the other wives who greeted her warmly with hugs. She did miss them all, each and every one. They looked beautiful in their stark white, glittering gold, and deep emerald green. Angel herself looked exquisite and was glowing. Girl had gotten thicc enough to bite.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” They watched as fire shot up into the sky, flying up at the speed of lightening until….

Charlie's jaw dropped and tears slipped down her awed face thinking of what it meant as blue and pink lights rained down.

Pink and Blue. A boy and a girl. Twins!

The house would be getting boy and girl twins. She couldn't wait to hold them and squeeze their cheeks and read to them. She wondered if they'd be tiny babies or fat like cherubs. She hoped they were fat like cherubs.. and healthy. Health was most important. Her hand went to her stomach again. She didn't take back her wish for food poisoning, but she figured that maybe having a baby wouldn't be so bad. Angel was already on the road to childbirth.. all Charlie would have to do was watch and take her cues from what Angel did. She could make it work.

After the fireworks, she caught up with her sisterwives, glad they weren't asking too many questions. She just wanted to talk about the twins and how everyone had been without her. Angel was happy to see her, giving Charlie a careful hug, her baby bump serving as a large barrier. As Charlie stood talking to Homie and Kimora, she looked over and saw Erik coming her way. That was her cue to leave.

“Hold on, Shy.” He spoke before running over to Charlie. “Ayye,” he said before grabbing a hold of her arm to stop her. She froze as she felt his touch, stopping in her tracks. “Where you headed off too? You leavin already, Charlie?”

Charlie turned around with a deep breath to look at him before speaking. “Yeah Daka, I’m a bit tired. I wanna head home and rest.”

“Home huh?” Erik said, looking her over, analyzing her body language. She did look tired, but she also looked nervous…. he could tell she was hiding something. He also noticed how she had unconsciously placed her hand on her belly. He decided he’d let her off easy this time, wanting her to come to him on her own. He wouldn’t let her keep her secret for too long however.

“Alright princess, take it easy then.” He said as he went in for hug. Being sure to take in the scent of her full hair.

“Y-yeah, I will.” Charlie said as warmth filled her body from Erik’s tight hug. Her sensitive body quickly being effected from his touch. She was sure she was covered in goosebumps.

Dammit, she thought feeling powerless all over again. No matter how far away she went physically and mentally, he still had this effect.

“Alright Daka, let me go big boy.” She said with a laugh, ready to get away from him. Her thoughts were becoming too clouded & she was afraid she’d do something she’d regret.

Finally Erik loosened his grip, giving her his signature smirk. Naturally he knew what effect he was having on her, he always did.

“I’ll let you go. For now.” He said, his eyes filling with fire & a promise. 

---

"He's watching us," Charlie blurted over the phone when Trevante picked up. She was changing out of the white and gold gown in her hotel room that had become more of an apartment. "Remember what I said to you?"

Trevante wasn't afraid and no matter what Charlie said or how much money she offered him to leave and start over elsewhere in financial comfort and safety, he wasn't with it. "Have some faith, shawty. It'll be okay." She could hear the buzzing of his clippers in the background. He was so unbothered.

Charlie on the other hand was sick physically and with stress. Trevante said to take a test and common sense told her to take a test, but she didn't want to take it and see a positive because then she'd have to deal with the fallout and plan the rest of her life around a surprise factor. She put it off like she pocketed her feelings for her husband.

"Hello? Charlie.. Charlie.." She heard the clippers stop.

"Huh? Sorry, I zoned out thinking about the chaos that is my life!"

"You're the one who has to make the decisions. Don't panic until you take a test." Solid advice.

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark

[justkeeptrekkin]

For the prompts... Hizashi and Shouta's reactions to each other immediately after the end of chapter 9 of Kogane no Kami (I ADORE that story, btw). If you want something more casual, umm, something something mutual pining and keeping warm. Tbh, I'm just excited to read anything you write ♡

Hello listener~Thank you so much i’m really glad you liked my fic!! I would absolutely LOVE to do a chapter 9 follow up but, just in case anyone out there hasn’t read it and doesn’t want major spoilers, i’m going to stick to the second half of your question. Thanks for the prompt

Hizashi lies under his duvet and two blankets. He is wrapped up in his dressing gown, beneath which he’s wearing his winter pyjamas. He has two pairs of socks on. His head is buried under the covers.

How is he still cold?

The sound of his teeth chattering sounds oddly loud under the roof of blankets. And even though he’s really- really really- tired, he can’t sleep. Instead, all he can do is stare at the underside of his duvet, and the bluish light of the streetlights peeking through the gaps that Hizashi’s missed whilst making this cocoon.  

His eyes are cold. How is that a thing?

After about ten minutes of trying to sleep, it becomes too much. With a loud, frustrated growl, he rips himself out from under the duvets and blankets. It brings on unpleasant consequences.

“Shit! Oh my God why is it so cold-”

Hizashi dances on the spot for a moment as he decides whether to run a hot bath, make a cup of tea, or a hot water bottle. Of course, he knows why it’s so cold. He and Shouta have the worst landlord in the universe and they haven’t fixed the heating in time for winter, despite the fact that they’ve told him multiple times that it’s caput. Shouta’s been moaning about it far less than him, but it’s reached the point now where they’ve both lost their patience.

Hizashi instinctively looks to the wall on his left. On the other side, Shouta’s in bed. They’ve lived together for years, and yet the thought of him being just on the other side of the wall sometimes makes Hizashi’s stomach flutter. Still.

After all this time.

Maybe Shouta is cold too, he thinks.

“No,” he warns himself, because he knows where this is going.

But his mind betrays him. Maybe Shouta could do with some extra warmth, like I could.

Hizashi measures this thought that drifts into his mind, looks down at his feet as he does so. They’re covered in fluffy, cat shaped bed socks. They even have little ears. And his pyjamas have Doraemon on them. Running a hot bath would be much more sensible than what he is considering doing next. But then, no man wearing a combination this silly has ever done anything sensible.

He looks back at the wall.

There is little point pretending to argue with himself, he realises. He made his choice as soon as the idea popped into his head.

Hizashi’s feet transport him to Shouta’s door, and then he’s knocking. And no one’s answering.

He’s asleep. Of course he is, it’s Shouta. Hizashi huffs to himself, watches his breath form a cloud in front of his face. Pretends not to be upset or frustrated. Paces around in front of Shouta’s door for a moment, feeling a bit like a lost puppy. Then, gritting his teeth against the agonising, illogical feeling of rejection, he-

The door opens. “‘Zashi.”

Hizashi stops in his tracks and spins round to face the man standing in the doorway. His arms are wrapped around him, and he’s wearing a turtle neck jumper. He’s unrolled the neck so that it covers his chin and mouth.

“Shou, sorry man, I just- it’s freezing.”Shouta doesn’t respond immediately. “Yes.”

Hizashi feels warm for the first time in hours. His cheeks, unmistakably, are hot. “You’re cold too?”

Again, Shouta doesn’t seem to know what to do with this. He’s never been good at small talk, and Hizashi isn’t exactly making this easy. “Obviously.”

“Cool, yeah. Obviously. No, I just came because- uh-”

Because I want an excuse to cuddle you?

Thankfully, Shouta doesn’t give Hizashi any more time to talk nonsense. He disappears into his room, leaving the door open for Hizashi to follow. He smiles to himself and takes the invitation.

And then he looks at Shouta’s bed. He’s been in here plenty of times, and never has his bed ever felt daunting. Hizashi combs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that he never seemed to be able to kick as an adult.

“Which side do you want.”

Hizashi’s heart stops at how casually he asks this, but, as ever, his mouth is on autopilot. “Right! I always prefer right.”“Thought so.”“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Remember when we were in second year and we went on that class excursion, we had to share a bed then too.”Hizashi does remember, but only now that he brings it up. Back then, it hadn’t felt so weird. They’d stayed up half the night eating junk food and talking about everything and nothing. Hizashi is usually the one with the good memory. He wonders what made Shouta remember that trip now.

“You kick in your sleep.”“Do not!”“Do, too. If you kick me tonight I’ll throw you out the window.”Hizashi makes an unconvincing sob. “OK,” he moans. “I can’t help what I do in my sleep though.”“Not my problem.”

Shouta gets back under the covers. When Hizashi doesn’t move at first, he stares at him blankly. Hizashi startles, joins him in bed without further hesitation.

“Oh my god it’s so warm. How are you so warm. You’re a little radiator.”

“Hmmm.”

Hizashi lies on his back and shuffles down the bed, so the lower half of his face is covered by duvet. Whenever he breathes his face feels, irritatingly, too warm. Shouta lies still, turned towards him on his side.

“What are you doing.”

Hizashi peers over at him, wide eyed. “Huh?”

“I thought the whole point of this was sharing body heat.”

Hizashi swallows. Trust Shouta to say something like that out loud and not be embarrassed. Never freak out or make things weird.

Hizashi, on the other hand: “Errrrrrrrrrrr-”

“Come here.”An arm suddenly wraps itself around his waist, pulling him towards Shouta. Hizashi yelps in surprise but allows it; is suddenly pressed up close against Shouta.

In his bed.

He can feel his breath at the back of his neck. Shouta’s hand lies against his stomach, although he can’t really feel it through all the layers he’s wearing. If he weren’t absolutely freezing, he’d be wishing he wasn’t wearing any pyjamas under his dressing gown.

And that’s exactly the kind of thought that’s going to get you into trouble. STOP IT.

Shouta wriggles, moves his other arm so that it lays beneath Hizashi’s head, rather than being bent awkwardly between their bodies. There’s something even more intimate about that, and it takes all the will power Hizashi has to steady his breathing.

“You remind me of that cat. Have you seen that gif of that cat?”“I’ve seen every cat gif ever made,” Shouta says seriously, and Hizashi laughs. His voice is quiet and low. “You’ll have to be more specific.”“You know, the one with the mummy kitty pulling in the little sleeping baby kitty in its arms. Like it’s a soft toy or something. That’s basically what you just did.”

“Hmm,” Shouta considers. There’s a suspicious pause. “Hizashi, do you consider me a parental figure in your life?”“Wh- No!”

Shouta laughs, and Hizashi playfully, and without much conviction, tries to escape his embrace. Shouta holds him there tightly.

“God, you’re so annoying!”

He can imagine the smirk on his face right now, even though he’s turned away from him. Hizashi’s breath forms clouds in his vision.

“This isn’t fair.”Shouta sighs. “What?”

“You’ve got the better end of the bargain. You can warm up your face-”

-By burying it in my neck? My hair? Is that really what you’re going to say, Hizashi, you MORON?

“I mean- you know- my nose is cold,” is what Hizashi eventually decides on.

Shouta snorts. He plants his hand directly on Hizashi’s face.

“Better?”“Eugh- God you’re in the weirdest mood tonight-”

“And you won’t stop complaining. Just turn round, Hizashi.”He does as he’s told, and finds himself just below Shouta’s chin, eye-level with his clavicle. It’s warm. Shouta is warm. His arm is draped over him under the covers, and Hizashi’s leg instinctively finds it’s way between Shouta’s. He doesn’t have time to regret it, because Shouta shuffles closer.

“Oh,” he says out loud.

“Hm?”“Nothing,” Hizashi croaks.

Hizashi can feel Shouta’s heart racing through his sweatshirt.

It’s enough confirmation that maybe- just maybe- Hizashi’s not alone in feeling like this. Whatever this is- he hasn’t found the word to describe it yet. He shuffles down and presses his face against his chest. He doesn’t miss the shakiness to Shouta’s deep, slow breath.

By the time Shouta’s heartbeat has settled, they’ve both fallen asleep.  

[queenofcats17]

Hey.. I'm trying to get back into writing for my AU again. So I thought I'd send in a story idea I had. I always loved reading the things you wrote for my AU and the characters so I thought maybe sending in a prompt would help me get comfortable with writing again.. sorry if that sounds confusing. My idea was a story with Stage 4 Henry and Allison and Tom, at their safe house. I just thought it would be interesting. You don't have to write this if you don't want to.. It's fine.

I kind of missed your prompts, honestly. I’m sorry you’re not feeling so great right now, but I’m happy to write this for you.

Tom and Allison didn’t encounter many people in the studio. They tended to stay on the lower levels, avoiding anyone who could tell Joey of their location. Occasionally they’d run across Sammy on the level most of the Lost Ones resided at, but they’d all agreed that the Lost Ones’ village was a neutral zone. Regardless, there weren’t a lot of people who sought them out for any reason. Which was why it was so surprising when Bendy the Dancing Demon came running to them with what appeared to be a half-dead human on his back. This in itself was strange. They didn’t see humans too often. 

“Bendy, what are you doing down here?” Allison asked, kneeling down so she was eye level with the little demon. He never came this far down into the studio. And she was fairly certain she’d never seen him this distraught before. He was normally so bright and chipper, despite the current situation they found themselves in. He always found it fun to tease Tom.

“You gotta help him.” Bendy was in tears, pushing the human toward Allison and Tom. “H-He’s starting to lose it. I can’t lose him! Please! Help!” Allison turned her attention to the man on Bendy’s back, reaching out to him. Tom quickly pulled her back though.

“Tom! What was that for?” She pulled her arm away, giving him a warning look. Tom pointed to the man on Bendy’s back, making a gesture. The gesture that he’d developed to mean ‘infected’. Allison froze, looking cautiously down at Bendy and the man. 

“Bendy…Did you bring an infected creature down here?” She asked slowly, using her calmest and kindest voice. Bendy nodded, sniffling as he held the man close. 

“Please, you gotta help him.” He repeated.

“Who is he?” Tom tightened his grip on his ax. He and Allison had worked hard to stay out of Joey’s gaze and away from anything that might turn them into creatures like Allison.

“It’s Henry,” Bendy said. “He made me.”

“Henry?” Allison and Tom said together. 

“Y-You guys know him, right?” Bendy allowed himself a hopeful smile. “He’s your friend, right? So you’ll help him, right?” They certainly knew of Henry, but neither had ever actually met him. Sammy and Norman had talked about him a lot, having worked with him, but neither brought him up when Joey was around. Henry had always been a…sensitive topic when it came to Joey. The studio head’s obsession had likely only grown with the addition of black magic. 

“Look, kid-” Tom started to speak, ready to tell Bendy to take Henry back upstairs. It was too dangerous to have him around.

“We’ll take him back to the safehouse.” Allison interrupted him. “We can keep an eye on him there, okay?” Tom’s head snapped around so he was looking at Allison.

“Just trust me,” Allison said, putting a comforting hand on Tom’s shoulder. She had that look in her eyes. Allison had always been a very maternal person, so her attachment to Bendy was understandable. Bendy was just a scared little kid most of the time. So Tom didn’t argue with her when she indulged Bendy’s whims. But this…This was different. Still, when faced with her pleading gaze, he conceded. 

“Alright. But the kid has to carry him.”

And so they made their way back to the safehouse. Henry stirred a few times but mostly stayed out until they’d set him up in a makeshift cell. They didn’t like it, but they couldn’t just leave him out in the open. There was always the possibility he’d transition into stage 5 and try to attack them while they slept.

“I don’t like putting him in there,” Bendy said as Tom finished boarding up the entrance. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s for his protection and ours,” Allison assured him. “He can’t hurt himself in there.” And he couldn’t hurt them either. They couldn’t be infected themselves, but the Searchers tended to attack anything that wasn’t one of their own.

“You hungry?” Tom asked, stepping in to try and take Bendy’s mind off the situation. 

“A little.” Bendy nodded. 

“Hope you like soup.” Tom went to retrieve a can from their stash. “‘Cause it’s all we’ve got.”

“I do like soup.” Bendy smiled slightly.

“Why don’t you get yourself a bowl?” Allison patted his head. “I’m sure we have one around here somewhere.”

“A bowl?” Bendy’s eyes widened. “A real bowl? Joey never lets me eat out of a real bowl!”

“That’s because Joey is a big dumb stinky who doesn’t share,” Allison said. 

“Yeah!” Bendy grinned before scampering off to find the aforementioned bowl. With him gone, Allison turned her attention back to Henry, who was just waking up. 

“Wha…? Where am I?” He sat up and looked around blearily. “Am I…in a cage?”

“Well, it’s a cell.” Allison smiled apologetically. “It was too dangerous to leave you out in the open. I hope you understand.”

“I do. Don’t worry.” Henry drew into himself a bit, hugging his knees. “I don’t want to hurt anyone again.”

“Again?” A growl entered Tom’s voice.

“Tom.” Allison shot him a warning look. 

“I almost infected Annette.” Henry took a deep, shuddering breath. “I almost…I almost hurt her.” He buried his face in his hands, trying to fight back tears. 

“Who’s Annette?” Allison asked. But Henry wouldn’t answer, devolving into sobs. Bendy returned a few minutes later with a bowl and a salvaged spoon. Allison tried to direct his attention away from the distraught animator, but Bendy kept glancing back at Henry.

.

The next day, although day was a relative term when you couldn’t tell if it was light or dark, Allison tried asking about Annette again. Henry seemed a bit more stable since he’d stopped crying, although Allison had been able to hear him muttering to someone while she’d been trying to sleep. 

“Henry, who’s Annette?” She asked. 

“She’s my friend,” Henry replied. “She came here with me. I should have sent her away. I shouldn’t have let her come to this place.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Tom said. “None of us could have predicted Joey would go this far.” He was sitting a safe distance away, tinkering with his mechanical arm. Bendy had gone out to visit Sammy and the Lost Ones, so the angel and wolf had decided to get their information. 

“Tom’s right.” Allison agreed. “We came back, all of us. None of us knew how dangerous it was going to be.” 

“She’s probably safer without me there.” Henry continued. “Boris can keep her safe better than I can.” It was at this point that he finally got a good look at Allison and Tom. He frowned, tilting his head to the side. 

“Who…Who are you two?” He asked. 

“I’m Allison, and that’s Tom.” Allison gestured to herself and then Tom.

“Did you….work here?”

“Unfortunately.” Tom snorted. “I fixed machines and Alli did voices.”

“I was a voice actress.” Allison corrected him. “Joey brought me on to replace Susie as Alice Angel. You can tell how well that turned out.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“No reason for you to be sorry, kid,” Tom said. “You didn’t do this. Drew did.”

“Still, I must be causing you some kind of trouble.” Henry insisted. “I’m infected. You must be scared I’ll infect you too.”

“You don’t need to worry about infecting anyone down here.” Allison reached through the slats of the cell to put a hand on Henry’s knee. “For whatever reason, perfect toons can’t be corrupted by the ink.” Imperfect toons were another story altogether. But that wasn’t important.

“Besides, it’s not like any of us can say no to that little demon.” Tom tried to sound as though he was inconvenienced by this, but Allison could see he was smiling. Henry allowed himself to smile as well. 

“He’s pretty cute, huh?” He said, rubbing the back of his head. “I never thought I’d get to meet him in real life, but he’s just as amazing I always imagined him.”

“He’s a good kid,” Tom said. Henry felt a warmth in his chest at this, almost a surge of pride. He wondered if this was what it was like to be a parent. He’d never gotten to experience the feeling before, due to Linda’s death. The only good thing that had come out of returning to the studio was meeting Boris and Bendy. Especially Bendy. 

.

That night, Bendy slipped into the cell to sleep with Henry. Despite Allison, Tom, and Henry’s warnings, he didn’t want his ‘father’ to be alone while he was going through this. So Bendy slept snuggled in Henry’s arms. Henry couldn’t help but watch Bendy sleep in the same way he imagined a parent would watch their child sleep. Bendy looked so young when he was sleeping. 

“We could all be a family if you’d just let me in,” Joey whispered, and Henry could feel his old friend’s hands on his back. “It could be everything you’ve ever imagined. We could be happy.”

“Go away,” Henry said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Come on, don’t you want to be a father?” Joey purred. “I know it’s something you’ve always wanted.”

“If I’m going to be a father, it will be on my terms, not yours.” Henry held Bendy a little closer. The little demon stirred a bit, burrowing closer before settling back into sleep.

“Henry, don’t be difficult.” Joey pressed his ghostly cheek against Henry’s. “I don’t want to make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

“I told you, go away,” Henry repeated. “There’s no one you can force me to infect down here. There’s no one you can make me hurt.” For a moment, Joey was silent. Then Henry felt him smile. 

“Oh, Henry. You have no idea how much pain I’m capable of inflicting.”

A moment later, he was gone. Henry was left staring at the shelves outside his cell. 

“Henry? Are you alright?” Allison’s bleary voice came from around the corner, where she and Tom slept. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He hoped his voice wasn’t shaking as much as he thought it was. 

“…Alright.” He could hear her shift as she rolled over, presumably to go back to sleep. Henry closed his eyes, focusing on the comforting weight of Bendy in his arms. They were going to be alright. They were going to be fine. 

[ellohcee]

I'm not sure if you've done it already, but I was curious if you could do the #19 -- Candle prompt. Something like a Marichat -gone/going-Adrienette ship, following the balcony seen in Glaciator. Adrien getting more attracted towards Marinette, trying to make a move or two as both himself AND Chat. Love your works!

Hoho, this is an interesting one. It took me a few days, but I think I know where to go with this. And since I don’t want to rush it, this will come in multiple parts. Hope you like it so far!

- - - -

50 Prompts

#19 - Candle

Miraculous Ladybug

Prompt List

- - - -

Curiosity, As They Say (Part 1/?)

Adrien stared at thewall, frowning at it for all he was worth, as if hoping it wouldsolve all of life’s mysteries. If he could peel back the paint, thedrywall, the supports, he could surely find his answer deep withinthe recesses.

He did not.

He made a clickingsound with his tongue, bouncing his leg in an agitated manner withoutrealizing he was doing it.

“Kid, please, youneed to relax, you’re stressing me out,” Plagg complained fromhis spot on the bed. “All that nervous energy, I feel that youknow.”

“Plagg, who do youthink Marinette likes?” he asked suddenly, not at all acknowledgingthe Kwami’s complaint. This kid.

“Cheese andcrackers,” Plagg sighed under his breath, silently asking Tikki forstrength. She was the patient one, she liked to guide these waywardsouls in times of crisis. Plagg just wanted to eat cheese. “I don’tknow, why don’t you ask her?” he replied sweetly, resting hischeek on one paw and watching his human with slit eyes. He’d toldthe kid from the get-go not to reveal his identity to anyone,including Ladybug, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t unknowinglyfraternize.

Although if Adrienwalked up to the girl and just flat out asked who she liked it wouldprobably send her into cardiac arrest. Okay, yeah, not the best idea.They were too young, too stupid, too naive.

“You know what, Iwill,” Adrien said suddenly, as if he’d been struck byinspiration, an excited look on his face. Oh geez.

“No, kid, I didn’tmean for you to actually-”

“Plagg, transformme!”

Rude, I was stilltalking, Plagg thought bitterlyas he was sucked into the ring, vowing to destroy something ofAdrien’s once they were back home. Something small, he wouldn’tfind it right away.

ChatNoir ghosted from his bedroom window and out into the night, headingtowards the familiar bakery. Ithad been a couple days since the Akuma attack involving Marinette, soit would be a viable excuse to go over there and check up on her,make sure she was okay.

Chatspotted something and hopped a few rooftops over, suddenly realizingwith embarrassment he’d never cleaned up all the candles. The rosepetals he’d strategically scattered had been carried off by thewind, but the rest of the items remained. He would remember thistime, but first, Marinette. He picked up one of the candles and thepacket of matches before jumping over to her balcony. He set thecandle on her table and lit a match, holding it carefully against thewick until it caught.

Thehero peered over at the trap door window, seeing her light was on. Hecould hear movement within, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the sound ofa sewing machine. He smiled, Marinette sure was a hard worker, it wasgetting late and she was working on some project of hers. He walked alittle closer, tapping softly on the window. The sound of the machinestilled, so he took his opportunity with a flair of his caliber.

“Butsoft, what light through yonder window breaks?” he called, and heheard footsteps as she walked over to the ladder. “It is the east,”he continued, and with perfect timing, Marinette appeared through thewindow and he gestured grandly at her. “And Marinette is the sun!”

Lookingwary but amused, Marinette gave him a smile of greeting. “Romeo!”she said in mock surprise. “To what do I owe the sudden visit?”

“Why,I wanted to make sure this Princess was faring well after our lastAkuma encounter,” Chat replied theatrically. “Might this Cataguesteal a moment of your time?”

Marinettechuckled softly, leaning the window back against the wall andclimbing out. “Well, I have to admire your dedication to the bit,added points for improv,” she praised, placing hands on her hips.“Although I have to make asuggestion, you shouldbe Juliet. The House of Catulethas a better ring, don’t you think?”

Chat’sgrin was immediate, both for the pun-about and for missing theobvious. “A very good point, I am quite fair myself,” he teased,placing one hand to his chest in a classic fair-maiden pose. “Wellalright my Romeo, wellness check!” he announced, clapping his handstogether. “Are you traumatized? Are you house-ridden? Do you needtherapy? Because I’m a great listener.”

Marinettegiggled, pushing him on the shoulder. “You’re such a dork. No,I’m not traumatized. Isthat your big wellness check?”

“That’spart one,” Chat amended, holding up a single digit to correct her.“Now, part two is uh, a bit out of the norm, but I can’t help butwonder…” he said, trailing off as she watched him curiously. “Areyou… still heartbroken?” he asked carefully, making her eyes gowide.

“Oh!Um, kind of?” Marinette hedged nervously, rubbing one arm as theconversation took a turn. She hadn’t expected him to bring that up.“I mean, I’ve moved on from the particular event, you… caughtme on a bad day,” she admitted. “But other than that, things arethe same,” she sighed.

Chat frowned. He felt bad bringing up the subject, it was clearly a soreone in general, but he was curious. Relentlessly.

Andcuriosity, as they say…

“Sothis guy…” he said warily, seeing a blush rise to her cheeks.“Did he reject you?” he asked.

“No,”Marinette said, shaking her head softly. “I haven’t told him.”

“Sohe’s just oblivious,” Chat finished matter-of-factly.

Tikki,who was hiding just out of sight beyond the window, sighed and shookher head. Oh Chat, if only you knew, shethought to herself with a chuckle.

Backon the balcony, Marinette hedged on an answer. She didn’t thinkthat was fair, to put it so bluntly like that. “It’s more like…When I try to tell him, or even talk to him, I come off as a hugedork,” she winced. “It’s really not his fault, I just can’t…I can’t…” she trailed off in defeat, heaving a sigh.

Chatfrowned, hating to see his friend so sad. “Maybe I can help, who isit? I could go talk to him.”

Marinette’sface froze in shock as she whipped her head up to look at him withwide eyes. “No. No. No no no. I have enough friends trying to setme up with him and it never ends well, so don’t even think about italley cat.”

“Okayokay, I’ll butt out,” he relented, laughing at the perturbed lookon her face. “How about a little coaching then?

“Coaching?”she repeated skeptically, on the verge of laughter for reasons hecouldn’t comprehend. “What, you’re a dating expert?”

Thehero blinked, scratching at the side of his face with one carefulclaw. “Er, well, no. But! I am a guy!” he said suddenly, as ifthat made up for everything. “So I do know a bit about howthey think,” he added in victoriously.

“Abit?” Marinette said dryly, humor in her voice showing through hereyes as well. “That’s comforting.”

“I’mserious,” Chat pouted. “I hate to see you sad over this fool.”

“He’snot a fool Chat,” Marinette warned, despite the smile on her face.

“Heis if he’s blind to your feelings, any guy would be lucky to haveyou in love with him!” the hero exclaimed, a little too loudly. Ittook him a few seconds, but the pink on her face made him considerwhat he’d said, and Chat blushed, feeling his heart thump a littlein embarrassment for the outburst. “It’s true,” he coughed.

Marinettefiddled with her hands, trying to distract herself from the warmth inher cheeks. “So let me ask you this, we barely know each other,”she said carefully, eyes flickering to him briefly and catching anodd look on his face. “Why do you want to help me?”

Okay.He had to be strategic here. How did he tell her without revealingtoo much? Even being incredibly vague, it could totally blow up inhis face if she thought on in too much. But he couldn’t dismiss itas a ‘hero thing.’ Heroes didn’t meddle in people’s lovelives, that was definitely not in his job description, and she wouldsmell his lie in an instant. She was a smart one.

Chatlet out a little puff of air, wondering how much trouble he was goingto get into for this. “Okay, well, let’s just say…hypothetically, we’re… less strangers than you realize.”

Marinette’shead whirled around again in his direction so fast she felt whiplash,heart beating quicker all the sudden. “What?” she asked in shock,blinking. “You mean-”

“Notso loud,” he pleaded, holding a hand out towards her. The girlimmediately covered her mouth with one hand, looking embarrassed.“Don’t think on it too much, okay? It’s for your safety. Anddon’t- I mean, I don’t know when you’d get the chance- butdon’t tell Ladybug, okay?” he pleaded.

“Ohyes- I mean, no, of course I won’t tell her,” Marinette promised,feeling a little guilty because Ladybug already knew, she had a frontrow seat, but she couldn’t tell him that. “Well, um, okay then.”

“Okay?”he repeated, surprised. “So you’ll let me- I can try to helpyou?”

Marinettesighed, realizing this probably was a bad idea on some level, butfinding she couldn’t say no to him on this one. Him and those damnkitten eyes. “Yeah, okay, nothing crazy though, no feeding meadvice through and earpiece or anything,” she mumbled.

Chat’sbreath caught loudly and he started choking on a laugh, causingMarinette to give him a look that was a mixture of concern andconfused. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,I’m super!” he replied, bouncing back even as he got hisbreathing under control. “Okay princess, I’m going to get out ofyour hair for now since it’s getting late, but we’ll get startedon a game plan in a few days. Is Thursday alright? I could stop byaround 8?”

“Sure,”Marinette nodded. “I’ll have some snacks ready for you asthanks,” she teased, earning a look at amazement from Chat.

“Princess,this boy is going to fall so hard for you, he won’t knowwhat hit him,” he ‘tsk’ed, plucking the candle off the table andholding it out to her. “Until then, let this candle be your shiningbeacon of hope in the dark!” he said theatrically, and sheimmediately burst out laughing.

“Youare such a dork,” she exclaimed around her laughter, takingthe candle from him and wiping at her eye with the other hand. “Okayfair maiden, I can’t take anymore of you tonight, so I’ll see youThursday.”

“Untilthen, my Romeo,” Chat replied with a grand bow, before extendinghis staff and vaulting away into the night.

Shestood watching him a with a fond grin, and after a moment Tikki flewout from the bedroom below, hovering in front of Marinette and givingher a look. “So, I’m assuming you heard all of that,” Marinettetutted, eyeing her Kwami as she prepared to hear why this was a badidea.

“Ofcourse,” Tikki chirped happily. “I think it’s sweet.”

Marinette’seyebrows drew together, wondering why Tikki didn’t have somewarning against this, some words of wisdom. And why did she look so…evil? “You’re plotting,” she said flatly.

“What?Why, of course not!” the Kwami denied, looking mortally offended.“I just think it’s nice of him to be so concerned.”

Notat all convinced, Marinette sighed and blew out the candle, bringingit with her as she headed inside.

Shewas already regretting this.