#its always the same finger always and only when im nauseous

[the-kneesbees]

does anyone else get this shooting pain in their finger when they feel nauseous or is it just a me thing

[seikkoi]

ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ | t. stark & s. strange x f!reader

Step one: Work at one of the most successful research laboratories in the country. Step two: Don't fuck it up. Step two and a half: Do not fuck it up.

content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (sooo uncharacteristic of me), degradation, power dynamics, voyeurism, shy reader, org*sm denial, v*ginal fingering word count: 2.6k a/n: im having a small fixation on our favorite witchy doctor dont worry abt it

Shitshitshit!

You chastised yourself mentally over and over again, watching the bright blue numbers tick downwards. It might make sense to get up, scramble across the lab, fling your hand around the incubator and pull the plug. That’s what an amateur would do, but you’re an expert and know that will do fuck all for you now. Then again, an expert would have set the goddamned temperature correctly. 

You’d fallen asleep at your desk–a natural consequence of several late nights collecting data (or drowning in term papers and reports). In your half-awake state, right before your head hits the table, you set the temperature twenty degrees lower than it should be. Dreamland gave no clues to the impending doom awaiting you. Instead, you dreamt of a tropical paradise. Your sunny fantasia was inevitably interrupted by the persistent beep that echoed the labs walls.

The digits keep trickling down, and you rest your head in your heads. All you can do is wait for it to hit zero. Thousands of synthetic cultures–gone. That was two months of work down the drain, and your bosses expected a very long report, printed and neatly stapled by the end of this week. 

You were so fucking fired.

The numbers finally stop, the computer beeping tauntingly as if you needed verbal confirmation on how screwed you were. You could not even begin to imagine how you would explain this. You worked at one of the best laboratories in the world, there wasn’t room for rookies errors here. Especially not when they come from supposed wannabe professionals like you (and cost millions of dollars). Your first week some larger-than-life MIT grad used the wrong inventory system and was gone by noon. You weren’t any better, just some Ph.D candidate trying to boost her resume. 

The computer stops, and in its absence you pick up on the slight tick of the clock on the desk. The red analog reads 9:57 PM. Late, but not too late for your bosses to still be around. You’re nauseous with guilt, but you can’t imagine carrying it through the night, working with nothing through the rest of week just to get canned on Friday.

No, you’d accept your fate now.

If you were lucky, you’d only have to talk to one of them. 

You don’t have a preference for either. Stark had no issue showing dissatisfaction through his words, often sternly and without grace. The good part was that he was the same way with praise, although you rarely managed to earn that. Strange on the other hand was, well, strange. You barely interacted with him, but when you did you always left the conversation not sure if he despised you or merely tolerated your presence. It changed your working attitude from focusing on the science to scrambling for perfection to gain even the faintest ounce of approval. 

Obviously, not well enough if you were making Alaska-sized mistakes like this. Both were equally arrogant (unfortunately, well deserved) and you knew neither of them well enough to plead for your job. 

You make your way down the dim hallway, passing the empty offices and labs. More than one mental pep talk passes through your mind. The end of the hallway held your demise, a cracked open door holding an illuminating light and a pair of voices. 

All you could do was hope they weren’t too harsh.

Beyond the wooden door, you listen to two voices argue indiscriminately. 

��I suppose you think we should just give it away.” one says exasperatedly, and you figure this is Stark by the sarcasm laced in each syllable.

“No,” the other sighs, “but our shareholders will never agree to this price point.”

“The shareholders will agree to whatever we tell them to.”

“You’re right, to a point. Still, we need to be realistic in our expectation of returns.”

“We haven’t done all this work for realism. We did it for profit and you want to sell our hard work to the lowest bidder.”

You tapped your knuckles against the oak door, heart beating in your chest. You went through a couple of opening lines–promises about how this would never happen again and pleas for understanding. Logically, you knew neither were likely to be granted. The voices on the other side grant you entrance that you take nervously. Inside, Stark sits at the large desk in the middle of the room. Strange stands beside him, peering over papers that you presume sparked their conversation. 

At the sight of you, both men seem to soften their hardened expressions. Whatever nonsense flared their words a moment ago is gone, replaced by confusion by their junior researcher at their door this late. Strange glances at the timepiece on his wrist before you can say anything, scoffing and shaking his head. 

“Yes, [y/n]?”

The annoyance drips, clearly not amused by your poorly timed visit. You wring your fingers in front of your body. 

“Firstly, sirs, I want to apologize, there was a mistake with the incubator, and the cultures were destroyed.” 

You wish you sounded more confident, but instead your eyes dart between the men and the floor. Your omission tumbles out in a whiny tone, waiting on every syllable for their faces to turn and tell you how stupid you were and how much you cost them in time and resources. That’s not how it goes, however. 

Stark leans back in the leather desk chair, metal creaking as his arms are crossed in front of his body. He makes an annoyed face, sure, but not the angry scowl you were dreading. 

Strange’s reaction is even more peculiar, chuckling slightly and glancing back at Tony.

“Did the incubator make a mistake, or did you?” he says lightheartedly, a grin stretching on his face, yet the words create a swell in your throat. 

Tony seems to find it amusing as well, watching Strange stalk towards you. He stops in the middle of the office. You’re less than two yards away, trying not to tremble under his gaze. 

“I did, sir, I’m sorry. I’ll gather my things and leave.” you whispered, hanging your head in shame. 

Your feet are on autopilot, turning for the door until Strange speaks again.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” he chuckles. “Right, Tony?”

You turn back to see him looking towards Stark, who hums in approval. Even more confused, you watch as Strange beckons you closer, and you obey on instinct. 

“I don’t think it’s a good look for a Ph.d candidate to have a termination from such a large company on her record.” Tony coos from his chair.

“No, not at all. That might just tarnish her future.” Strange adds.

Their eyes rake over you. Stephen beckons you forward again, and you comply once more. Clearly, they were mocking you before giving you the boot. The condescending drip in their voices leaves your skin hot with embarrassment.

“We wouldn’t want that for you, sweetheart.” Tony sits up as Strange guides you towards the desk, a large hand resting on your back. 

“I-I don’t understand.” you stammer. 

They both share another laugh at your confusion. Stephen stands behind you once you reach the desk. He nudges you forward until your hips are flush against the edge. There’s still separation, but not enough that you can’t sense his body right behind yours.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you knows how valuable you are to us,” Tony locks eyes with you as Strange twirls your hair in his fingers. The touch shocks you to turn back to him, only for Strange to push you back to face Tony. 

“Everyone makes mistakes, after all.”

Your eyes widen when Stephen presses his body into yours, easily towering over you. Heavy hands trail down your jean-covered hips, hot enough to burn your skin through the denim.

“We’re very understanding, I’m sure we can work something out.” Stephen’s voice purrs in your ear, warm breath tickling your throat.

The glittering look in Stark’s eye is all too familiar, watching Stephen’s hands get acquainted with every inch of your form. You shudder under his touch. The blood in your veins runs cold as you catch a wink between the two men–and suddenly, you understand.

“Wouldn’t want your career to end before it even starts now would we?” Tony taunts. 

Fingers tease along your side. Soon, they work their way under your shirt, grazing the skin of your midriff. 

Any lingering uncertainty is snuffed when Stephen presses further into you. The desk digs into your hips, trapping you between it and the tall doctor. 

“I can’t–we can’t–this isn’t–”

Each attempt at a full sentence fails under Tony's lustful gaze. It’s quite enjoyable watching you fail against Stephen. Recruitment always seemed to be just the prettiest research assistants. Who could blame them for finally getting an opportunity for a taste? 

Not to mention you did just cost them a small fortune with your little mistake. Contrary to your beliefs, though, they liked your work ethic (and you, for that matter). Letting go of such a helpful piece of eye candy simply wouldn’t do. That doesn’t mean that kindness is a guarantee. 

“No?” Tony hums. “Well, we could always let you go. We can give a shining recommendation, of course having to mention your little incompetencies.” 

Being blacklisted would kill you. All you wanted was to work in this field. Years of late nights and term papers down the drain was a far greater loss than a few synthetic cultures. 

“Please, you don’t have to do that.” you plead. Behind you, Strange’s beard scratches your throat. His hands travel further north, dancing on the hem of your bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Like I said, I’m sure we can all come to some sort of compromise.” Stephen’s voice drops low and heavy, enveloping on your covered breasts in his right hand. He squeezes gently, tweaking your nipple through the padded fabric.

“W-what if someone finds out–please, just–”

“Oh, don’t you worry, honey. We know how to be discreet.” Tony smirks.

Your eyes can never seem to leave Tony’s, watching his smile grow as your arousal does. It’s against your doing. Stephen completely surrounds you, touching any part of you he could reach. You gasp when the doctor’s idle hand finds your other nipple, rocking himself into you as you squirm. 

“I think she wants to keep her job, don’t you, honey?” Stephen chimes in.

You nod nervously. If this would save your career, so be it. People have slept with their bosses for less, right? And you certainly weren’t blind, both men were attractive in their own rights, able to pander through a catalog of women much smarter and much more their style. It begs the question why they were doing this all–crossing such a boundary with a goddamned graduate student. 

“Oh no, honey, we’ll need to hear you say it.” 

You barely blink, nor breath, all brain power zeroing in on Strange’s heat pressed into you. Tony raises an impatient eyebrow and you manage to answer out of the need to appease him and keep your job. 

“Yes, I’ll do whatever you want.”

The second the words leave you, Stephen’s hand disappears from your shirt to push you over the desk. You would’ve face planted straight into it had his palms not wrapped tightly around each of your wrists, yanking your arms. You try to sit up, uncomfortably pressed between Stephen Itchy wool suit pants and the wooden desk. Tony gleams down at you as the doctor keeps a firm hand splayed across your back, his right hand reaching around for the zipper of your jeans. 

In the next moment, you feel cool air bend around your bare legs. Before you can have anything even remotely resembling second thoughts, your lace panties are quickly pulled to your ankles as well. Warmth flushes across your cheeks, feeling Stephen’s hungry eyes and fingers on your exposed cunt–all while Tony’s eyes stay locked onto you, smile growing wider as your shame does. 

That became harder the second rough hands grab the supple flesh of your ass before a teasing finger slid across wet folds. You squirmed against Stephen’s hold on your wrists, trying desperately to look anywhere but at your boss as you bit back a soft gasp.

“I think our pretty little assistant is feeling a bit shy, Stephen.” Tony declares, reaching out to caress the side of your face not pressed into the surface. It sends butterflies up your spine at how gently he draws tight circles on the skin of your cheek, humming in satisfaction from how roughly Stephen roams over your body.

“Tsk, I hardly believe that, as wet as she is right now.” he murmurs, distracted by the mess you wish you weren’t making. 

You kept your lips pierced tightly between your teeth, lids squeezing shut when a long digit pushes into your aching walls. A deep groan from Strange echoes behind you. You hardly had time to eat, let alone maintain a social life. This meant it had been almost months since you’d slept with anyone–leaving needy and aching from the simplest touch. Even if it was your boss. 

You instinctively try to pull forward when a second finger is roughly added, and this time you can’t stop the whimper as you stretch around him.

“There it is–feels good doesn’t it? Don’t be shy, honey.” Tony’s voice sounds like smolding ice, freezing your nerves and setting your skin on fire. 

You almost hate yourself for how good this feels, Stephen pistoning in and out of your cunt until the sounds of your arousal against his fingers flood the office walls. All while Tony strokes your face like you're made of fine china. It’s far more than your body can handle, stomach already tightening with each pulse of the doctor’s fingers. 

“Go ahead, hon’, tell us how much you like it.”

Your face warms. From his touch or embarrassment, you’re not sure. You stammer under the heat, trying to look anywhere but Tony’s piercing eyes. 

Stephen’s hand comes down strong on your exposed ass, earning a loud cry from you as you strain against his hold. It shouldn’t make your head spin as much as it does.

“That wasn’t a request, answer him.” the doctor commands, gripping your wrists even tighter. When you take a second too long to muster a response, another strike falls on your opposite cheek. Your nerves are nearly disintegrated, still relishing good his finger feel stretching your cunt.

“It–it’s good, it feels–” you cry out once more when he spanks you again, taunting you for being too quiet. 

“It feels really good, sir.” you say louder, nearly shouting into the wood as your legs shake. 

Tony laughs above you, only worsening your shame. It’s an easily forgotten feeling–Stephen’s fingers curl inside you, testing each angle until he finds the one that makes you squirm. Soon enough, you forget where you are entirely, barely able to tell where your skin and theirs begin. Your high is far too close to care about the way Tony watches you, or how bruised your wrists will be after Stephen’s done with you. 

Just as your mind starts to split into two, it’s quickly interrupted. Stephen withdraws from your soaking cunt, leaning over you to press you impossibly further into the desk, unbuckling the leather belt at his waist. You jerk your head up at the ache between your legs, meeting Tony’s devilish smirk. Warm lips grace your ear, chuckling at your needy panting. 

“Aw, poor thing. Don’t think we’d let you off that easy–you’ll need to earn it.” Stephen whispers.  

As he sinks into you, you get the feeling this mistake will take quite some time to pay back. 

[rommahh]

The Moment

{Enjoy this new fic im writing. Ive always loved dad!harry, @harryhoney-bee gave me the courage to write dad!h and so here it is. This is only part 1 so I hope to see some of y'all stick around.}

It was a surreal moment. There was one baby in your arms and another in Harry’s. Two babies. Twin girls. Harry sat beside you in a chair by your bed. He couldn’t stop looking between you and the girls- absolutely enamored.

You were exhausted. Your cheeks were flushed, skin sticky from sweat, but you didn’t notice it. You could only notice the way that your babies cooed as they slept or the way that Harry would subtly wipe tears from his eyes. The silence that surrounded you two was comfortable, warm even.

“Im so proud of you.” Harry whispers when his eyes make it back to you. You start to tear up again. Thinking about the year that you two have had and where you are now with two beautiful bubs laying in your arms- it had been a chaotic year but it paid off in the best ways.

Nine Months Ago

Something was wrong, something was very wrong. It wasn’t like you to get stomach sickness. You would wake up and throw up everyday at the same time for the past three weeks. Since your last period, you’ve recognized some changes. The foods that you love are now the foods that you hate. You can’t go a few minutes without feeling nauseous, something was wrong.

A pregnancy test sat in front of you. It’s bright pink exterior burned your eyes as if to mock you for your actions. You had taken it 15 minutes ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at the results. You best friend, Ellie, sat beside you waiting for you to check the results.

"Hon, you've got to check the results." She places a gentle hand on your arm. You nod, but make no move to flip it over. "Would you like me to do it for you? I will."

"Yeah, that would be, that would be, yeah." You couldn't form a full sentence. Ellies fingers wrapped around the non-pee side of the stick and lifted it eye level to her face. She pushed her glasses further up her nose to make sure she was reading correctly.

She clears her throat uncomfortably. "Well."

"Fuck." You burst into tears. This is not how you imagined this to happen. You thought that maybe this was just the college stomach bug but pregnancy? Fucked is what you were feeling.

"Its going to be ok." Ellie was quick to hug you, she cradled your head with her small hand. "You have to tell him you know."

That thought didnt even cross your mind. Harry. The only guy you've ever been involved with. You couldn't even imagine his reaction. Would he be mad? Sad? What would he do?

"I can't right now. I need to be by myself for a second." You tell her. She nods at you before placing a kiss on the top of your head and returning to her room in the sorority house.

It was hard to believe that you could be pregnant. Academics were your main priority. You were building a resume, a resume to build your future and a child would put a wrench in that future.

The room was quiet now that Ellie was gone. The only sound came from the humming of your fan and your pounding heart. Your thoughts were louder than anything. What was anyone going to think of you? Women always get scrutinized for a pregnancy first. If you chooses to exterminate the baby, people will say something. If you puts the baby up for adoption, you're a deadbeat. If you keep the baby, you're a whore.

Out of al the emotions that rushed to you when seeing the pregnancy test, fear was the most evident.

Friday nights on campus were wild. The soccer team just won a very big game and almost every frat was throwing some sort of large party. Ellie really questioned you when you said you wanted to visit Harrys frat party to celebrate with him. She didnt think a party would be most suitable for a probably pregnant woman, but as stubborn as you were, she didnt win that fight.

Harrys frat was the most jam packed with people. People kissed the floor that Harry walked on. He could do no wrong in anyone eyes. Winning the game tonight made him the talk of the town, he was even trending on local twitter.

Ellie led the way through the house, a hand wrapped around your wrist so you didn't get eaten by the crowd. Coming upon Harrys group, Ellie was immediately scooped into her boyfriends arms, Jeremiah. You spotted Harry standing in the corner talking to a few people. Sauntering over to his you caught him by surprise when you wrapped threw yourself into his arms.

"Hi bear." He greets you while wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

"Hi H." You smile up at him. Despite the happiness you felt seeing him tonight there was a knowing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You and Harry had a difficult relationship to define. Everyone around thought you two were the perfect soulmates. You two just seemed to be made for each other. Harry only lightened up when you were around, his stoic facade melted away whenever you entered the room. There was never an uncomfortable moment where you two couldn't tell each other anything...until now.

Most people didn't really understand why you two weren't officially together but you two knew. School and preprofessional careers meant more to you two than anything. Harry's soccer career was on the rise. He has one foot in the profession but couldn't go any further because of college. His mail was stuffed to the brink with offers from professional leagues who couldn't wait for him to graduate. Harry had a future that was set in stone. You on the other hand, had a been building a resume in business and marketing with a touch of journalism and social media. You have interned at instagram and snapchat- working behind the scenes and front and center. You both were talented beyond your means and because of that, many things came second.

"Congratulations on your win! Knew you guys would win though." You congratulate Harry and his group. They thank you, some thanking you in compliments making Harry tug you further into your side. You had your tightest skinny jeans on with a loose v-neck t-shirt on. You would've worn something tighter but you felt bloated...if that's the right word to use for this situation.

As the night went on with dancing and ridiculous games, the anxiety you felt never diminished. Watching Harry in his element so happy made you nervous at the thought of disturbing it.

The night started to slow down and you and harry were finally in a quiet area with friends.

"Harry can we go to your room to ta-"

"Harry!" An obnoxious voice cuts you off. Harry turns his attention to Olive who had just walked into the door. She wore her tightest dress, boobs spilling out catching everyones attention in the room. Harry apologized to you before walking over to the girl. That sudden burst of confidence disappeared within seconds. Harry deserved a girl like Olive. Arm candy who would keep him fresh in the tabloids. Not you and baby. You didnt want to be the one to hold Harry back from a future with beautiful ladies and freedom. Maybe it was the jealousy that tingled within you watching Harry grasp Olive in a tight hug and not letting her go when they split.

Throwing a look to Ellie, who already saw your unpleasant face from miles away, you waved to the group before leaving. It was weird to watch Harry with other girls, especially Olive. Without a defined relationship, things like this made your emotions array.

Your sorority was only a block down but you only made it a few feet before you heard your voice being called. Harry ran to you with a grin on his face.

"Just gonna leave me without saying goodbye you loser." He grabs you in his arms giving you a bear hug. Your face smushed into his chest prompting you to wrap your arms around him loosely.

"Sorry, just a little tired." You shrug. He leans back away from you to look at your face. He holds your face in his hands smiling down at you. It was hard to not melt into his hands when he gave you his little dimpled smile.

"Why so tired bear?"

You didnt answer, your eyes averting to the side. Harry moved your face so your eyes aligned with his. His brows raised expecting an answer.

Brushing him off, you move back. He looks slightly offended at your demeanor. "Nothing H, I promise."

"Ok, well you know you can tell me anything. I always have time for my bear." He gets close to you, nudging his nose with yours. Both of your eyes fall shut, savoring the moment between each other. A breeze passed around you two, it set the mood. There was a warmth shared- a buzz in the connection that pulled you two closer.

The second your lips melt you felt yourself start to break. Here was the man you were in love with loving you, and you were harboring this secret that could destroy the little relationship that you two had.

The kiss was merely innocent. There was no tongue but moving lips and small pecks. It was you to pull away first.

"Harry-"

"Harry come back in!" For the second time that evening you were interrupted. Olive stood at the door of his frat frantically waving her hands. Harry looked back at you with an apologetic smile.

"Were you going to say something back inside?"

"Uh, no I guess not." It was dumb of you not to say the thing that had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for the past few days.

"Im gonna go back." He pointed with his thumb behind him to the house.

"Yeah, ok." Harry hesitated for a moment. He knew there was something wrong but he didnt say anything. You both didnt say anything.

Eight Months Ago

Nine and a half weeks pregnant. Estimated by your doctor, you were nine and a half weeks pregnant. That plastic test you took weeks ago stood nothing against the actually paperwork your doctor was reading from your blood work and pee.

Ellie and your mother sat next to the bed you lied on. Your shirt tucked underneath your bra as your doctor spread the jelly on your stomach. You couldn’t look at your mother, the lingering disappointment was evident and creating a tension in the room.

The small instrument that the doctor was holding pressed on your stomach. You could only hear the ruffling of the instrument on your stomach through the small scre-

Thump thump thump

A heartbeat was all it took for you to start sobbing. You couldn’t decipher anything on the ultrasound but just the faint sounds of a small heartbeat made you cry. Ellie gripped your hand tight out of excitement. She wiped your tears off with a tissue smiling at you with a large smile.

Your mother remained stoic though you could see the few stray tears on her face. Everyone walked out of the doctors office that day with a stack of ultrasound pictures, your mom paying for the extra despite her unhappiness. The images were blurry, nothing more than black and white blobs but your were connected to the blob. Your little blob of whatever.

Back at your dorm, your mother following you into the room, you throw the ultrasounds haphazardly on your desk. Your mother sat, prim and proper, legs crossed on the small love seat you had placed by your window.

You threw yourself into your bed feeling the soft bed envelope you.

“Careful, you’re not a young college individual anymore, carrying a child now.” You mother muttered disapprovingly. You rolled your eyes.

“Im ok Y/M/N.” It was her turn to roll her eyes.

“It’s mom to you. Now let’s talk about baby daddy. Harry deserves to know.” Your mother never looks up from her magazine as she utters the words to you. You sit up on your bed, placing a hand on your stomach.

“Way to ease into the small talk. I know I have to talk to Harry. Im just scared." You distracted yourself by playing with the throw blanket on the foot of your bed.

"You're already pregnant, nothing more could go wrong from here." Your mother replies sarcastically. There it was. The resentment. Your mother couldn't hide it.

"Ok, im sorry you feel that way."

"I don't feel anyway dear, you're pregnant and in college and you haven't told the father yet so there. Nothing to feel about." She slams the magazine down on the floor so her hands were free to exaggerate her words.

"Why are you acting like this?" You ask in a small voice. You were brought back to the childish space in your head. Growing up your mother was always like this. She demeaned you in a way that brought you back to your childhood years. As a kid you never felt good enough for your mother and her harsh demands. She always expected you to grow up and be the first woman president. You were expected to be prim and proper and wait for marriage to have sex, and now you were pregnant.

"Im not acting in anyway. You have no right to question me. Cant you see what you're doing to me?" Her words swayed you. Had you been that bad of a daughter?

"Im-Im sorry." Your mother huffed, standing from the chair and grabbing her purse.

"Look what you've done, made my blood pressure rise. I will see you later." She storms out of your room slamming the door behind her. She had no regard for the fact that you were living in a shared house with your sorority sisters. You hated crying over your mother but you couldn't help it. She manipulates your feelings so she can feel better and it works.

A knock on your door broke you out of your reverie. Scared that it was Harry, you quickly confiscated the ultrasound images from your desk and shoved them into the desk drawer. Behind your door was Harry in fact.

He was a little confused by your lack of interaction with him. It was normal for you two to not communicate much during the week but you at least would text him throughout the day. In his right hand was a bag of clothes for the weekend and in the other hand was a bag of your favorite snacks ranging from cheesy Doritos to a hand picked ziplock bag of blue gummy worms.

When you finally open the door, harry could tell you were crying. You're cheeks were flushed and your eyes had a slight puff to them.

"Hi bear, what happened?" He walks into your room placing his bags by the door. You closed the door behind him taking in his jean clad legs and school t-shirt. He seemed to be coming back from a class, he had no game tonight.

He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread to leave a space for you to sit. You slowly move in between his spread legs sitting on his left thigh.

"My mom was here." Was all you said nuzzling your face into his warm neck. His cologne tingled your nose making you snuggle closer to him.

"Im sorry my love." He knew your mom well. She was very present in a negative way in your life. "But its ok, we are gonna have a good weekend. Gonna watch movies, gonna cuddle, gonna do some other stuff..." His voice trails off alluding to the thing that you love to do with Harry. He places soft kisses on your cheek trailing down to your lips. You responded immediately by kissing him back. His hair was gripped between your fingers. He groaned in your mouth at the feeling of your harsh tug.

Before you know it, your on your back underneath Harry consuming the comfort given through pleasure. His gentle thrusts brought subtle tears to your eyes. Harry was above you resting his weight on his elbows as pounded deep within you.

You cradled his face in your hands as he looked down at you from above. He looked at you as if you were the best thing to walk the earth, his home away from home.

"I love you, god I love you." He groaned deeply as you clenched around his length.

"I love you too." You both came, coming apart in each others arms.

After he cleaned the mess between your legs, he lied down beside you, one arm underneath your head and the other lying limp on your side.

"I missed you this week, you went all silent on me." He murmurs. His breath tickles your face. you acknowledge his words but you couldn't form the right words in your head.

"I have- just been a busy week."

Chicken, you were a chicken. You could've said the words that kept you silent this week but you didnt.

"Ok, im sorry this week wasn't treating my baby right." He attacked you with raspberries in you neck making you explode with giggles.

"Stop it!"

"Mmm fine. Brought snacks, lets eat." He moves off of the bed to put his boxers on and throw you your favorite hoodie that sat by your desk. He clambers back in bed with the Doritos, giving you a large grin.

"Yummy." You tell him taking the bag. When the bag opened the aroma of the chips hit your face, your stomach started to coil in discomfort but you brushed it off. You took a chip out of the bag placing it in your mouth. Not even three chews in, your stomach lurched. It was a quick trip to your bathroom as you placed your face in the bowl and released the contents of your stomach.

Harry followed you to the bathroom in shock, confused by your sudden sickness. You could feel his warmth beside you as he rubbed your back.

"Let me get you some medicine, where is it?" His voice was buy your ear by the time you moved your face out of the toilet.

"Its in the second drawer of my desk, pink bottle." He nodded at you before rising to his feet back into your room. The sound of the drawer open made you jump up to your feet as you remembered what sat in that drawer.

"Harry wait-"

It was too late. Harry stood by your desk with the ultrasound pictures in his hands. It suddenly became very cold in the room. Harrys face was pale in color, mouth gaping.

"Harry..."

"What this? Are these Ellie's? Tell me these are Ellie's." The questions poured from his mouth. You could sense the storm coming.

"They're not Ellie's." He almost couldn't hear you. Just like with your mother, you felt as if the ground could swallow you alive.

"Whose are they?" He grits out, jaw clenched. His eyes were watering with tears just like yours. You tried to take a step forward but he took a step back. A sob wracked through your body in heartbreak. "Fuck."

"Harry please."

You tried to reach for him but you were slow. The ultrasound pictures hit the floor in a flurry as Harry furiously pulled on his clothes.

"Why, where, Harry stop." You wailed. There were no words uttered out of his mouth as he stormed out of the room. You could only fall to the floor, for the second time that day you cried. It hurt how hard you were crying. You crawled over to the disheveled ultrasound pictures, clutching them tight to your chest.

It hurt. Today just hurt.

Part 2

[hopecountyisforlovers]

22. for sex after a near death experience for John and Tobias :3

FIRST OF ALL i am SO sorry that this TOOK so long it really got away from me and ended up being 2500 words. such is the writers curse/blessing LMAO i started working on it yesterday right after you sent this and i wanted to finish it yesterday night but i cried a lot writing it and then got sleepy and figured i would do it before work

but gosh thank you so much for the request !!!!!! its so different to write summerseed in the game timeline where theyve already been married for like 4 years so this was a really neat chance to explore how their dynamic evolves and i had a lot of fun writing it SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT TOO <3

okay i will stop rambling now. content warnings for this are that its porn (obviously) there are also references to johns ~boss fight~ uhhhh. god im really bad at doing this oops . that should be all though ONTO THE FIC

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It hurts, the rise and fall of his chest- most everything hurts. His left arm is useless, casted at his side- had it broken? When? Things come to him in flashes of unfortunate memory- gunshots, pain, the blue sky tinted red around its edges. The sensation of falling still hangs heavy and nauseous in his stomach. His plane had gone down, shot right out of the sky by that godforsaken Resistance and their Deputy. He remembers what he thought would be his last thought- bright, blinding white, the light he should have walked into, eclipsed in its entirety by the shine of yellow-blonde hair under the summer sun, the pale flash of a perfect smile tethering him to the Earth.

Tobias. His Tobias. A cold realization washes over him- where was Tobias now?

His eyes snap open, and as if he had called to him just by thinking his name a weight on his chest that he hadn't realized was there shifts a bit, those same golden yellow blonde strands cascading over his body and to the uncomfortable bed beneath him, tickling his stomach through the holes in his destroyed shirt. Relief follows the cold, and then guilt slices through him all at once, hot through his aching chest; he owes Tobias so much for putting him through this, more than he can ever make up for. Tentatively, he moves his working hand, flexes the fingers to make sure they still work, and then cards them slowly through one of the tangles that now mar its perfection.

"I'm so sorry." He doesn't recognize the scratchy and harsh voice that comes from him as his own, but Tobias sits up in half an instant, looking at him like Paul must have looked at Jesus when he made wine out of water. This is a devotion he doesn't deserve, has never deserved, and yet he can feel himself flush underneath it. There are dark circles under Tobias' currently bloodshot golden eyes that suggest he's hardly slept, the brilliant yellow of his hair messy and knotted like it hadn't been brushed or washed for a while. The guilt comes through strong again, but he doesn't let himself stew in it this time. "How long have I-"

"Four days." He answers the question he didn't finish, almost too quickly, like he's afraid it might hurt him to talk. "I didn't know if- if you would- they told me all I could do was pray." His voice breaks on the word, almost angrily, and tears track fresh down his face.

"Did you?" It's a stupid question, he thinks only after he's asked it, but his head feels fuzzy. At his side, attached to an IV in his good arm, is a tall stand dripping clear fluid. Some kind of painkillers? They weren't doing much, if that was the case, besides making it hard to think straight.

He makes a sound that resembles a sob mixed with a laugh, wrung out of him as John's thumb caresses his cheek. "I haven't stopped."

There is a beat of silence, of the overhead vents kicking on, of an old love ballad playing from the lower floors. They must be in the Veteran's Center, as far as he could tell. There is a part of him, childish, that briefly but overwhelmingly feels safe here. Jacob had always protected him as best he could.

And then they are colliding, clashing, and it should be violent red and it should hurt but it feels to John like yellow, like blooming, like spring.

"John- Honey- You're still-" Tobias tries to pull away, however reluctantly, away from the desperation of their mouths pushing against each other. With all the strength left in his functional arm, John fists his hand into the collar of his shirt and yanks him back in the direction he wants him.

"I don't care." He's being selfish, like he so often is, and he knows it. "Let me make it up to you. Please, Tobias. Please."

"Make it up to me?" The small question shakes breathily, and he can feel the tears drip onto his cheek, can taste the salt on his tongue, but he doesn't disengage, he won't. He doesn't know if he can. He shifts along his jawline, catching them as they fall.

"You were right. I shouldn't have- I almost-" Tobias covers his mouth with his own before he can say the D word, swallowing it before it can reach the air, and then pulls back again. John can tell he doesn't want to talk about this, but words keep spilling from his mouth against his will anyway. "You tried to stop me. I didn't listen, and I- I saw the light, Tobias. I saw the light, and the only reason I'm still here is because you were brighter. And I can never- But I-"

Again, he is so sweetly cut off, perhaps with more urgency than before. "You came back to me, John. That's all I need. All I'll ever need. If this is what you want, then- But I don't want you to do it for me, because you feel like you owe me something. You are my something. You are my everything."

The words strike him through, stirring in his chest with a flutter of wings, and he smiles against Tobias' cheek. John had only ever considered himself lucky where his husband was concerned. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"That's a silly question." Tobias' lips press gently over a throbbing bruise on John's collarbone, the tenderness of it making his eyelids flutter. "You gave me something to believe in. Do you want me, John?"

John marvels at how easily he can say things like that, now- and how it still turns him inside out to hear them. Tobias' mouth trails down his throat with more of an intent, and he can feel himself start to heat up. "Always. Do you want me to-?"

"I want you to lay back and relax. Let me take care of you, okay?" His destroyed, blood-soaked shirt is unbuttoned and pushed aside with the utmost care, the position he was mostly stuck in making completely removing it impossible. The cold air of the room makes him shiver. Tobias draws his warm hands over his newly bare torso like he's touching something sacred and breakable- he's practically purring with it, the pain that should come with these touches all but absent. A delicate finger draws a circle around one of his sensitive nipples, and he finds himself making a much more obscene sound than any of the previous ones, melting a bit into the slab of a mattress beneath him. "Mmmn, yeah, just like that. Good boy."

Sometimes it's almost a detriment how well Tobias knows his body, knows him- the praise goes straight to his cock even faster than the touches do. He can feel himself, already embarrassingly half-hard. He wants so much more. "Say it again. Please."

The connection between them is such that John doesn't have to ask what he wants to be repeated. His hands never stop moving, never stop playing with him, and the warmth filling his core is building into all-out heat. "You're such a good boy for me, John. So perfect. So perfect for me. I love when you ask me for what you want. Do you know why?"

John almost doesn't even register that he's been asked a question, eyes having rolled back in his head a little when Tobias had said he was perfect. John had never been perfect, as far as he was aware- if anything, he had been the opposite. But God, If he didn't believe it when Tobias said it. It sounded so true when Tobias said it- like the touch of his Saint's hands could absolve him of every sin he had ever committed. "Why?"

He smiles. "Because I love you, and I love giving you what you want. What do you want now, John?"

His mouth, again, works faster than his brain. "Want to be inside you."

Tobias seems to think for a moment, appraising the situation, and there is a moment where he's sure he's made a far too outlandish request, the sting of rejection setting in over him quickly. Something must change on his face in response, because he's being soothed in an instant, Tobias' tongue replacing the ministrations of his hand around his nipple for a moment and drawing a high, breathy curse from him. He places a kiss to the nub, just enough sensation to drive John crazy. He'd be writhing if moving didn't still ache quite so much, thrusting up against empty air just for the ghost of friction. Instead, he just whines, a bit pathetically in his opinion, but the sound awakens something in Tobias, who moans low against his skin in response. A shiver of heat runs down his spine as those dainty hands slip down, down, tracing the outline of the little Eden's Gate symbol just above his belt line before sliding his pants down far enough that he springs free, cock bouncing against his stomach. "Shshshshsh, relax, prettyboy. How could I ever tell you no when you practically beg me like that? When you're already so hard for me? I just had to think about-"

Tobias positions himself, with no small amount of difficulty, with his knees on either side of John's legs, hand braced just above his shoulder as opposed to on it. It's a lot less touching than they might usually be doing during a venture like this, but he's not one to argue against his fragility at this moment, and the show is sublime- his lovely little husband in nothing but his rumpled white button up, gold streaming down his back and messily framing his face, cock leaking against the fabric as he fingers himself open with soft groans and exhalations of his name. John reaches up with his only free hand to slide the backs of his fingers along the length of his dick, as smooth and pale and perfect as the rest of him, and he shudders, head falling back as he completely stops all his motions. For a moment, he thinks he's done something wrong, when it hits him- he had almost made him cum, just from that.

"Are you ready?" His voice is still unsteady enough that John can tell how close he got. It makes his chest swell with something like pride- only he had ever seen him this way, would ever see him this way, and taking him apart was like second nature, an instinct. The feeling mingles with the ache of his desire, spiked by the thought of Tobias ruining his pretty white shirt all because John touched him the right way. He wants to make it a reality.

"Please. Please, Tobias, I need-"

Tobias is sinking down on him before he can finish that thought, bracing himself with both hands above John's shoulders now. The tight, wet heat of him is like nothing else in the world, momentarily strangling his capacity for language from him with the tortuously slow pace that Tobias sets, taking him all the way down and then sliding back up, or at least as far down as he can without actually putting any of his own weight on him. All he can see and feel is gold and white, and when his hips try to follow Tobias' ascent against his better judgment, their mouths are joined together, gentle and sweet to match the speed of their lovemaking. A tongue is again trailed down his throat, ending in another tender kiss to what he can only imagine is another bruise based on the low throb of it. "Do you trust me, John?"

"With- Ohhh, with my life." The words have never been more true than they are today.

"Then trust me. I'll take care of you. I promise. I've got you. There's no need to rush."

The build between them, usually like a dam breaking and overflowing, is now akin to the gentle ebb of the river through Hope County. It winds through his veins, the flames of it sinking into them like the spread of a venom that brought with it only a euphoria, the kind of euphoria that only Tobias had ever shown him. He loses track of the sounds he makes, of his husband's name slipping into the air around them to join his own spilling from Tobias like a prayer. He takes him in, memorizing a sight he has already memorized more times than he can count- the way his mouth falls open, having found the blissful spot inside himself to push into over and over, the flex of his muscles through his shirt, clinging to him in places with the sweat of his exertion, the shine of golden eyes riveted on him with a religious intensity. There is a new feeling he slowly comes to recognize, less than that of the dam breaking and more of the river lazily approaching a waterfall. It steals the breath from him, coiling in his stomach like a spring, and his hand finds his husband's waist, fingernails digging in as the feeling seeks to overwhelm him. "Tobias- Tobias I'm-"

"Together?"

"Yes- You first-"

He looks for a split second like he's going to argue, but then instead- "Touch me."

John does as he's told, applying the best grip he can to Tobias' cock, and he can feel him quake, can feel every muscle in his body tense and tighten like he's about to shatter into pieces. All it takes is one more slide downward, one flick of John's wrist up, and Tobias is spilling, beautifully, coating his hand and ruining his shirt, his hips jerking greedily into the grip and against his cock spearing him open as he chants John's name. The sight of it, and the way his body tightens around him, makes his vision go white as he is sent once more into freefall, ecstasy washing over him in wave after seemingly endless wave. Tobias doesn't pull off of him until his moans and whimpers turn into harsh breaths in the throes of overstimulation, falling boneless once more into the chair by his bed. The loss of him, of his body heat, devastates him for a moment. He's so used to him simply falling forward against him, to falling asleep sticky and sated and close, that for a moment he's convinced again that he's done something wrong. Only after this does he realize why that would be at worst impossible and at best a bad idea. Still, Tobias places his head back against his chest, as if sensing his distress, and presses a gentle kiss over his heartbeat.

"I know. I missed you, too. But we have plenty of time now." Another kiss, a nuzzle so slight he can barely feel it. "Forever."

He wipes his hand on the sheets and then returns it to Tobias's hair, carding through it gently- he can tell sleep is about to take both of them, and he wants to be touching him in any way he can when it claims him.

Forever doesn't seem like long enough to him.

But it's certainly a good start.

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger  stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

[anythingandeverything1d]

Plum Sized

Part 1: Congratulations Part 2: Im having your baby

The next few weeks had gone by in a blur. Harry had left again to do some more writing, promising he would be back for your next ultrasound and doctors appointment. Luke was still getting over the fact that you had just let Harry back into your life like that, but since Harry hadn't really been around much he was warming back up to the idea a little bit more and had started coming over more, specifically in the mornings which had been really hard for you. You had woken up every morning with extreme morning sickness. You couldn't eat for hours, you felt dizzy and threw up multiple times. Certain smells and foods just made you want to vomit at the thought. 

You were laying in bed trying to avoid throwing up when Luke walked in with a smile. “Morning beautiful, figured you might still be sick and in bed so I brought you a smoothie. Shouldn't have any weird smells or anything so I thought it might be worth a shot.” He handed you a large smoothie and sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you doing?”

You took the smoothie and thanked him before taking a small sip. It actually tasted amazing and nothing about it so far had made you sick so that was a big plus. “Not too bad....still just so nauseous. I mean the sight of food, the idea of food, it all just makes my stomach turn. I’m also just getting nervous about the appointment. I have to have my blood drawn and then we will probably find out the gender from that and of course it’s Harry’s first time going to an appointment so thats extra pressure because well because its Harry.” you sighed taking another sip and sitting up.

Luke nodded. “Have you heard much from him recently?”

“No...he’s been busy writing I think.” You bit your lip. Truth is after Harry had spent the night, he had waken up and left. You had hoped there might be something left to reconcile but he was really only interested in the baby. He had left the following afternoon even though you had asked him to stay. All you wanted was for him to actually step up, to be there for you the way he said he wanted to be. “He should be coming here tonight so that he doesn't miss the appointment..”

“Well I hope for your sake he does.”

“I’m sure he will but anyways lets talk about something else. What have you been up to? What’s new in your life?”

“Uh not a lot...I do have a date tomorrow though.”

“A DATE?!”

Luke laughed and grinned, “Yeah I met this girl, her name is Kayla and well we really hit it off so I’m taking her out tomorrow for a fun picnic lunch date. I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“Im sure it will be, you plan the best dates. So where did the two of you meet?” you played with the styrofoam cup your smoothie was in distractedly as went on about meeting Kayla at a gas station. You wished Harry would plan cute dates, and care more about everything. You wished he would text you good morning and good night or check in throughout the day. You wanted more from a relationship but at the same time...you really only wanted Harry. It was a hard place to be in at the moment. Just thinking about it and how frustrated you were with him made you tear up. You wiped a tear and noticed Luke was looking at you weirdly. “Sorry what?”

“I asked if you were okay....you seem. I don't know...not okay?”

You laughed and wiped another tear away. “Yeah, I’m fine just been thinking.”

He nodded unsure but was willing to let it go for your sake. “Well I have to go get ready for work, but enjoy the smoothie and text me later to let me know you are okay and all good. Promise?”

“Promise. Thank you for the smoothie..You really are the best friend a girl could have.”

“I try” he squeezed your hand and then walked out, leaving you to your thoughts.

After a few hours of lounging around you decided to get up and be productive. You threw on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt and froze when you looked in the mirror. Your stomach had definitely grown, and a small baby bump was definitely visible. You light touched your stomach and smiled. It was all startling to feel real. You got to work, cleaning almost every room of your house and by the end everything was spotless and beautiful. You felt good. There was just something about a clean house that cleared your mind. It was almost 4:00 pm by the time everything was finished and you still hadn't heard from Harry. He was supposed to come home tonight so that he could take you to your appointment in the morning. *Hey, how's writing going? Think youre going to make it home for the appointment tomorrow?* you texted him. You sat waiting for a reply but when it didnt immediately come you decided to start on dinner. Tonight you were going to be making spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread, nothing too fancy but still delicious. You were boiling the water and buttering bread when your phone buzzed. Harry’s face was on the screen so you quickly answered it. “Hey!” you said cheerfully.

“Hey love, look I’m in the middle of a song right now and I don't want to stop so I don't think I’m going to make it tomorrow.”

Your heart sank and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “But Harry this is a really important appointment. This is where we-”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be at the next one I swear.”

You didn’t even answer, just hung up the phone and went back to cooking. The whole night was spent thinking about Harry. How couldn't he want to be there? Why was writing more important than his family? Did he even care at all? You were frustrated, upset, hurt, and confused. None of it made sense. Harry always said that he wanted kids and he wanted to be the dad that was there at every moment. Yet here he was not even caring to show up and you were done with it. *Good luck writing. Don't bother in calling me anymore I think our baby will be better off without you in its life* you know it was a long shot, something meant to dig at him but you didnt care. You were done with letting Harry hurt you again. You were sitting on the floor crying when Luke walked in carrying two suits. 

“Hey which should I wear- Are you okay?” he immediately knelt down, dropping the suits and rubbing your shoulders. “(y/n) are you okay?” You shook your head no. Luke got more worried. He tried scooping you into his arms. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“No.” you wiped your face and let out a shaky breath. “I think I just broke up with Harry again.”

Luke froze trying to decide what to say. He decided to play it safe, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault, its not mine, its his. He just doesn't care.”

“He will one day, it just sucks he doesn't realize it now.” you nodded leaning into him. “So youre going alone tomorrow?”

You nodded again. “I’ll be okay.”

He sighed, “no. You shouldn't go through all of this alone. I’ll go. I’ll take you.”

“But your date..”

“I’ll reschedule. I have a friend in need.” You smiled and wiped your tears. 

“Can I still pick out the outfit you wear?” Luke laughed and nodded standing up and then pulling you to your feet.

“Of course.” He looked at you and gave you a look.

“What?”

“Your belly...its like actually bigger.”

“Well I do have a baby inside me that grows everyday.” You laughed. “Today, at 12 weeks, the baby is the size of a plum.”

“A plum? How do you know that?”

“I have an app that tells me its size according to fruits every week.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, “A plum. Who would've guessed.”

You laughed instantly feeling better. You held up the two suits and smiled. “The grey one. It brings out your eyes.” You smiled and handed it to him.

“That was a quick decision.”

“I’ve been your friend for forever. I know what you look good in.”

The rest of the night was spent lounging around. Luke had gone home, promising to pick you up for your appointment and you still hadn't gotten a response from Harry. You weren't really expecting one, but you had hoped he would say something. You decided turning in early was a good idea so you threw on Harry’s old t-shirt, the one you slept in every night and jumped into bed. You were exhausted so falling asleep was easy. You had awoken to the sound of the door opening. You laid in bed listening for other sounds but didnt hear anything. You covered your head with the blanket and tried thinking to if you had imagined it or not. Then you heard footsteps walking up the stairs. You panicked. You didnt know what to do. You grabbed your phone and looked for something you could attack an intruder with. The footsteps were getting closer and your heart was racing. The door opened and you were ready to dial 911. “(y/n)?” Harry’s voice whispered. You breathed out and turned on a light next to the bed.

“Harry what the hell!” you screamed. “I thought you were a robber or murderer or something. You cant do that!”

Harry walked in and smiled holding out a giant bouquet of flowers. “I’m sorry...I didnt mean to scare you but I also didnt want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

“What are you doing here.” 

He sighed and walked to the bed sitting down next to you on the edge. “I came to apologize. I haven't been a good dad lately. I haven't even been good to you. I got so distracted trying to please the fans with this next album that I was forgetting what's more important. My family. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I promised you I would be here and be present and then I wasnt but this time I will be. I want to be there for you. I want to be there for this little one.” He touched your belly and smiled. “Im done writing for now. At least leaving to write. I want to be here, with you, as much as possible. I want us to work on whatever this is and to experience all the baby stuff together.”

“Harry-”

“Please (y/n)....give me one more chance...I promise not to screw it up.” He placed his head down by your stomach and your fingers immediately went to his hair. You sighed and he looked up.

“Fine. One more chance but if you screw this up Harry you won't be in my life or the baby’s.”

“Trust me love, I won't screw it up again.” He kissed your forehead and set the flowers on the nightstand. He then stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He pulled you against his chest and trailed fingers down your belly. “Did you know that the baby is the size of a plum today. Like an actual plum, isn't that crazy?” 

You laughed and turned towards him. You touched your nose to his and smiled. He kissed you softly and smiled back. “I’m glad youre here Haz” you snuggled into him and he held on tightly.

“Me too.” He rubbed your back until you fell asleep and part of you expected him to be gone when you woke up. Just a dream. An imagination. But when your alarm went off and your eyes opened, you were snuggled against his chest, his body gently snoring like the angel he was. You rolled over and snoozed the alarm before returning to him. You traced his butterfly tattoo until he cracked his eyes open with a smile. “Morning.” he whispered deeply.

“Morning.” you smiled before climbing out of bed. 

“Where are you going” he groaned sitting up in the white comforter. “Im exhausted...cant we stay in bed a little longer.”

You walked over to his side, knelt down and kissed his nose. “We have an appointment so get up and get ready.” You smiled and stretched. Harry jumped out of bed and froze watching you. “Whats wrong?”

“Your belly...I can actually see the plum size. That is so cool.” “Wait until you see the baby at the appointment.” you smiled walking into his embrace. “We should be able to see actual features today. It won't be just a blob anymore.”

You were getting ready and so was Harry, except he was pretty much done. He was in his black skinny jeans, a tshirt and a sweater vest. “Do I look like a dad?”

You laughed and nodded. “You look like a hot dad though.” He grinned and kissed you about to respond when the doorbell rang. “Can you get that, its probably Luke.”

“Luke?” 

“Yeah he's coming today too.”

“Great...” Harry mumbled walking downstairs to answer the door. You finished throwing your hair in a pony tail and picked one of Harry’s smaller shirts, the one with his album title along a heart with his name, before running downstairs. Luke and Harry were just staring, no glaring at each other. 

“Hey” you smiled hugging Luke. “Ready to go?” Harry and Luke nodded and you followed them outside. 

“Whats the deal?” Luke harshly whispered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. 

“What?” you played innocently.

“Why is he here?”

“He’s the dad Luke..”

“Yeah but I thought you were done with him.”

“I was...but I feel like I owe it to the baby to give him another chance. He showed up last night and promised to be here. I’m not just going to say no Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes and you pulled your arm from his grip to catch up to Harry. He smiled and grabbed your hand. “Ready to see our little baby love?”

You nodded and climbed into the car. Harry decided he wanted to drive so Luke jumped in the backseat. The car ride there was silent, no one really talking but when we got to the waiting room you told Harry to check you in so you could run to the bathroom. The nurse was waiting with the two guys and you followed her in. She retook your weight, stating that you had gained a little which was normal. She then took all three of you into a room where you changed into a gown and waited. Harry was anxiously pacing the room and Luke was just glaring at Harry when the doctor walked in. “(y/n) so nice to see you again, are you ready to see the baby?” You nodded as he looked to the two guys. “Who do we have here today?” he asked. Harry stepped forward and extended his hand. 

“I’m Harry, its a pleasure to meet you.” he smiled and gave you a reassuring wink. 

“Harry is the dad.” you added looking at the doctor. He nodded and smiled.

“Its nice to meet you Harry. And you?” he looked over at Luke. 

“Oh, I’m Luke. I’m (y/n)’s friend.” 

“Nice to meet you too. Alright lets see what we got here. He turned the lights lower and squirted the cold gel on your stomach earning a surprised look from Harry which made you laugh. “Have you been having any symptoms?”

“Yeah I’ve had morning sickness quite a bit lately.”

“Ah, thats a normal but unfortunate one.” He was scrolling around your stomach looking for the baby. “Has it been manageable?”

“Yeah its not been too terrible, I’m still feeling good most of the day.”

“Good thats what we want. Ah here it is...” Harry grabbed your hand and smiled looking at the screen. “So you can see here is the head, the butt, an arm, a leg, everything seems to be there. Let’s see if we cant get the heartbeat.” Luke looked a little sick but smiled when you looked at him and Harry was in awe. 

“I think she looks like you..”

“How do you know its a she?” you asked surprised.

“I just feel like its going to be.”

“I feel like its going to be a boy, and I think he looks like you.” Harry smiled shaking his head. He was about to respond when you heard the familiar thump thump thump of a heartbeat. Harry had tears falling down his cheek. You smiled and wiped them away.

“That’s amazing.” he looked at the doctor with a smile. “Thank you for showing us that.”

The doctor nodded, flipping the light back on and handing you a towel to wipe your stomach. “Okay, you look good the baby looks good but we do want to do a blood test..From this you can find out the gender if you like.”

“Yes.” You said and looked at Harry.

“I think we should wait...let it be a surprise.” Harry said looking at you.

“Harry its not your decision.” Luke intervened.

“Its my baby too. I think we should wait.” He said pointedly at Luke.

“It should be (y/n)s decision. She's the one carrying it.”

“Well I think we both would have fun waiting.” Harry looked at you and you looked down.

“You haven't even been here. You don't have a say in it.”

“Luke,” you cut him off. “It is Harry’s baby too. He's the one here now and thats all that matters. Why don't we wait now and we can always decide later to look.”

Harry smiled and nodded at you, then glared at Luke. Luke just rolled his eyes. “whatever.” The doctor took your blood, explaining that it would also test for some genetic defects and diseases and that you would receive a call in the next few days with the results. You held Harry’s hand the whole time while talking to Luke so luckily you did not faint. Harry helped you to your feet, and held onto you to make sure you weren't going to drop back at any notice. You smiled and gave him a reassuring kiss. He let you go a little but still tightly held your hand. You set up another appointment and then walked out with your guys. Harry opened the car door for you and Luke climbed in the back seat. After ensuring you were buckled the three of you drove home. Luke left without saying a word and Harry rolled his eyes.

“What an asshole.” 

You lightly smacked his arm and smiled. “He will come around. Trust me.”  

Harry’s only response was a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, we need to go by my place and pick up some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Like all of it.”

“Why?”

“Well I figured we should probably live together so I can help out with everything..” Your mouth dropped open. “Unless thats not okay...” he added concerned he had overstepped.

“No. No I would love that...I just didnt think thats what you would want.”

“(y/n) I know the last few months have been rocky with us but I want to be here all the time with you. I love you and I want us to make things work. If me being here to help, mends that? I’ll never leave the house again.” He kissed your softly and you smiled. 

“I love you Haz.”

“I love you too love.”

---

Part 3 of the pregnancy series, hope you guys like it :) There wasnt a lot of action in this chapter but just wait for the next ;)

xoxo

[normiewrites]

happy birthday katsuki! despite it being such a joyous occasion, i wrote something pretty down in the dumps. i dont wanna explain the plot and hope you all understand it, or not, doesnt matter as long as it made u feel something cause i felt nothing writing this. i tried making it more realistic than fiction and im pretty proud of it.

prompt was taken from @daily-prompts

thanks for beta reading @savnofilter @kingtamakimurder !

other tags: @mci-writing @lady-bakuhoe @mutantjournalist @assortedanime

warning(s): its kinda depressing, angst, smut, fwb, drugs (not too much)

‘when is it ok to steal something?’ - bakugo katsuki x (fem)reader

you didn’t know when you started noticing it all. but you did, whether you liked it or not. the way that the newspaper cut outs would hang lazily off his dull yellow walls, the gravity forcing them to bend over like worshipers. or the way that the green big grenades on his desk were more roughed up than you were with the drugs in your system. or the way that his left calloused hand was always so tightly held onto your waist, leaving bruises for the next day as memories, while his right robotic one barely ghosted your skin, as if he was trying not to accept the truth. 

but the biggest thing you noticed was how empty everything was inside of him. you believed that you didn’t have any choice but to notice these things, because you were constantly only being fucked doggy style, never to face him and only the blank sheets beneath you. or maybe because it was to distract you from the cold droplets of water that would rain onto your back in small amounts. he always cried and maybe that’s why he never wanted you to face him, to never see how his tears pulled out his broken soul for you to see.

it was always like this, and each time, you would never get closer. you’d meet him in the parking lot near your apartment. it was a big and lonely parking lot, the streetlamps barely working as they flicked on and off, like the universe was sending you a morse code. he would always be ten minutes late no matter what time you would reach. maybe it was because he wanted to guarantee your existence, to know that you’ll be there waiting for him, like he was scared that if he showed his eagerness, it would make you run away.

was he even eager to ever meet you? you wouldn’t really care, not because he was a good fuck and gave good prices for your drugs, but because you couldn’t. he was always a mirage, there for you to see but not touch and despite how hard he would rut his hips against your ass, he could never be close enough to capture.

there was never any time for ‘talking’. he always got straight to the point once he picked you up. smoking a few blunts in his living room before taking off both of your clothes and proceeding to his bedroom. neither of you would ever mutter a word yet you both knew what each other wanted. it was a ritual now. you always picked the easiest clothes to take off, not even bothering to wear a bra, and he liked it that way. most boys would, they’d find it hot and alluring, always aroused with how you planned to get down. but bakugo liked it because it meant he would spend less time close to you. it would mean he would have to use his prosthetic arm less.

you felt like you knew nothing about him. or maybe you knew too much to be true. the news paper cut outs would be all about the pro-heroes’ stories. deku, uravity, red riot, grand and many more. but most of them were about all-might. at first, you would’ve thought that he was just a fan boy and loved to keep track on the hero society. but the more times you came over and looked at them, the more you realised that they were pinned up so wrong. they were hung with sorrow and regret, pins in the wrong positions like he was playing darts while drunk. why did he do that? why did he pin them up with more pain than joy? was he actually drunk or was his past controlling his future?

it was amusing to you, the way he would make you feel so good and satisfied yet so lost and yearning. you weren’t even yearning something for yourself, rather for him. no matter how hard or how longed you yearned, you could never understand what it was for, and neither did he. of course, you never asked him about it, because the first few times you did, either you were told to leave or he would just straight up ignore you.

however, this night was different. you were going to hold your ground against him and find out the truth, because while it felt so good to be filled by his warm actions, it was all so empty and felt like there was no purpose as time went on. maybe this new found confidence was due to having the pro-hero deku walk by you on the street during patrol, or maybe because you wanted to desperately know what was on the photo frame that he always put down before giving into your urges.

“katsuki!” you moaned softly, moaning as he pressed a searing hot kiss against your neck, smoke gliding out of his mouth and tickling your chin as his hands massaged your ass.

you had gotten to the use of the cold metal of his prosthetic hand against your skin, in fact you found it slightly pleasing of the contrast in temperatures of both of his hands. maybe that’s why he kept you around; you were the only one who accepted him like that without questioning it. you couldn’t care to question it, you were a quirkless girl in a quirk filled world, nothing was shocking anymore. besides, you found it kind of cool. if only you knew how cursing it was.

the night was hot and urgent, the both of you were tearing each other’s clothes as you sat atop his lap on the sofa in the living room. the cheap material of the sofa dug into your knees as you grinded against his hard and restrained boner, moaning against his cheek, not caring for the sweat that accumulated on his forehead. you both had never kissed. it was one of the two rules that he had put from his side. no kissing, and no facing him. you had respected them as he respected yours, but the time you both spent together wanted you to be a rebel and break down those walls.

you giggled softly, the feeling of your high running through your body like silk on freshly shaven skin overriding your usual thoughts and stresses as you heard the familiar tear of your panties, a rough mark being left behind on your skin.

“you’re giving me the next 10 grams free, that was expensive, katsuki” you whispered, tugging on his hair as he growled softly at your name, leaving rough kisses against your collarbone and breasts.

katsuki liked having you around. you didn’t talk too much, didn’t question the mess of his room and silently adored his prosthetic arm, no matter how much he hated it. you were simple and not demanding yet you could pull out so many explicit moans from him. but the most important part is that you didn’t push about the tears that always seemed to find their way onto your bare back. you were comforting, almost too comforting that at times it alarmed the scared animal in his heart.

after sharing a few more rounds of blunts and hickeys, you felt the familiar nudge of his arms, his signal to tell you to go on all fours, never to face him for the rest of the night. but something inside of you stirred up, almost like you were being controlled from an outside force. you found your hands pinning his against the backrest of the sofa, a confused look shooting through his red eyes, his blonde eyebrows furrowing underneath his matching hair.

he moved to speak up but you cut him off, “please, just for tonight. i promise, i won’t judge, just please.”

you didn’t realise you were closing your eyes tight until you saw the sudden intrusion of red and blonde in your vision once his gruff answer snapped them open.

“why?”

least to say, bakugo was nervous. he had never felt this nervous since his surgery day. he couldn’t even believe you made him nervous, it was so stupid to him. his younger self wouldn’t be as nauseous as he is now, but then again, lots had changed and he wasn’t like him anymore.

“your face is just so pretty, i wonder how much prettier it gets with tears falling down” you muttered, holding his face in your palms as your thumbs brushed his cheekbones.

you were so close to him, much to close for his liking. well at first, it was too close, but he soon recognized the spike in his heart was the fact that he was exhilarated by your statement. he knew that you knew he cried, and he felt too ashamed to show you. but there was no hiding now, there was no point.

despite the soft blush that adorned his cheeks and the furrowing of his brows, he kept his face the same. it was like he had the inability to change his face, like he was wearing those clay face masks that would restrict movement. it was the expression of when you get laid-off from a job that you worked so hard for and was praised by your bosses for.

you nearly thought that you ruined the night as he backed his face out of your hands, his eyes looking elsewhere. now it was your turn to be nervous. the air was so still, unlike his red eyes as they tried to look for something to lock onto, to anchor him and help him make his decision.

“fine” was all you heard before you felt him lift you up slightly, aiding him and standing on your knees as he shifted his sweatpants and boxers down, his eyes still not on yours.

you couldn’t comprehend what happened, not only because of how surprising his reaction was, but because of how less time he gave you before slipping his cock into your wet hole. the action was so simple yet so satisfying, just like you.

“katsuki!” you moaned loudly, your fingers going over the small scars that littered around his undercut till they reached his blonde top, pulling on them.

it was hot and desperate, the way that he would quickly get to work on your nipples as he would thrust up into you and how you would roll against his hips, tugging on his hair and nipping on his ears. you fully understood how much you had been missing out on, how close it finally felt. the way that his arms would snake up against your back, pulling your chest closer to his face, even managing to angle his cock deeper. there was just one bridge left to cross and it was the man himself below you.

he was thankful for how loud your moans were to cover up his sniffles, and it was an odd feeling as his cold tears raced down your chest to your belly rather than on your back. and like before, you weren’t going to ignore this.

and like before, it didn’t feel like they were your actions as you had tugged his face up, connecting his lips to yours before he could say anything to stray you away. his lips were chapped and motionless against yours and you tasted the saltiness of his tears that had reached the cavern. it was so hot yet empty, just like him.

“what the fuck, y/n?” he asked, the nature of the words contrasting from how soft his voice was and how tired his eyes looked.

neither of you noticed how both of you stopped, the lust gone just like the rules that you had broken. if you could describe his face in terms of a colour, it would be grey. it was so sullen, tear marked and conflicting, just like thunderstorms.

“who are you, bakugo katsuki?” you asked, hands gracing his bare collarbones as you searched his face for answers. but it wasn’t like you were going to find any, because there weren’t any. hopefully one day though, you could make some for him, or at least he hoped that.

he completely ignored your question, sighing softly as he rested his forehead on your chest, not bothering to clear up his eyes.

“tell me, y/n, when is it okay to steal something?”

when was it okay to steal something? maybe it was okay when people got what they wanted through injustice manners. or maybe if it was something needed for an emergency, of course not that the cost of others. but then again what was stealing? poets would call it love, judges would call it a crime, thieves would call it a life.

you had so many answers that you didn’t want to say any, because what if the other was a better choice? so you stayed quiet, letting him fill the silence this time.

“tell me, y/n, when was it okay to steal my parents? when was it okay to steal my arm? when was it okay to steal my fucking life?”

the pain that rippled through your body was enough to ignore the snot and the buckets of tears that fell down your chest. in fact, it was too much, making your own eyes water, your hands instinctively rubbing his warm and firm back. who was he? the answer was too broad. too complicated. too scarring. it was all about him and nothing about him.

you didn’t mind the way that he gripped your arms, because the bruises would be nothing compared to what he went through. so, you pulled him close to you, letting him shake against you and cry against your neck.

bakugo didn’t know why he was opening up to someone like you. you both were just supposed to be fuck buddies, nothing else, and yet you had broken him down, and he fell voluntarily. maybe it was because of your quirklessness, or how observant and patient you were with him. but like many other unknown answers that night, it couldn’t matter to him, because you understood or at least wanted to. he needed you.

he needed a reason to live again.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 38)

Being sick is very different in a small village than it is in the palace. Illness is never comfortable but it is even less pleasant when the pillows aren’t as plush and fluffy and when she doesn’t have the security of physicians to monitor and care for her nearly every minute.

In Wujing she has to walk to see Min-Min. She is lucky that Hajime is willing to make that walk for her. But while he is gone, there is no one to tend to her, no one to make sure that she is still breathing. No one but Atsu whose idea of helping is occasionally feeling her forehead and declaring, “mmhmm, you’re still sick. I dieg-nose you with not healthy” before springing off the bed to fetch her soup. Soup that is lukewarm at best and clumsily delivered--she now has several wet spots on her sheets to add to her discomfort. He stands on his tiptoes and pushes the bowl onto the nightstand, spilling even more of the broth onto it. He takes the spoon and holds it out to her, dripping broth on to her collar and nightdress.

Azula bites her tongue, it takes all of her will power and then some to not snap at the boy. The boy who is only trying his best to care for her. She parts her lips before Atsu can splatter soup all over her face. She has to admit that he isn’t such a terrible cook. If only he didn’t make great messes while doing so.

“Did I do good!?” He shouts, putting an even deeper pounding into her head.

“You did fine, Atsu.” She coughs. With each cough comes a throbbing like the strides of a soldier, heavy of armor and step. She massages her temples as Atsu holds out the spoon again. This time he holds it too far and she has to crane her neck to reach it. This is how Azula endures the better part of an hour until Atsu hums to himself and declares, “maybe I should hand you the bowl!”

She wishes that he had handed her the spoon or a pair of chopsticks to go with it. Instead--desperate for the soothing warmth and the favors it does for her sore throat--she drinks straight from the bowl. She can practically see father, Zuzu, Mai, TyLee, and everyone she had ever known balking at the unbecoming sight.

She puts the bowl aside and lays her head back all while the spills on the dresser and on her skin drive her mad. She longs to fetch herself a napkin but, spirits, she is so weak. Her pounding head is spinning faintly and she thinks that just trying to stand will leave her feeling entirely nauseous.

She knows that this is it. That this is where she will meet her end. The mighty and proud Azula will have her demise at the hands of an apparently common Earth Kingdom cold.

She bunches in on herself, her stomach does all sorts of flips and flops and she swears that she is going to throw up. She doesn’t even want to move an inch. This is how Hajime finds her. He sighs, apparently noting the mess on the dresser and her skin. “Atsu, you made a big mess!”

“Sorry dad.” He mumbles from the other room.

“Don’t apologize to me!” He rolls his eyes. “You git in ‘ere and ‘pologize to Rikka.”  He shakes his head with a small laugh. “Sorry about Atsu, he was just trying to help. He used to do that to his ma…” he washes away the splotches of soup.

Sometimes Azula wonders about Hajime’s old wife. He talks about her often enough but has never once mentioned a name. She can never bring herself to ask. She doesn’t want to open old wounds. She can’t imagine what it would be like to have a lover die. She can’t imagine that she will ever have to, not when there is no face to picture. At least there is one perk to being unlovable, she will never know that kind of pain.

And yet, Hajime makes her feel like she isn’t unlovable. The way he dabs at her forehead with that wet cloth. The way he smiles at her and brushes her hair out of her face. The way that he assures her that it wouldn’t bother him if he caught her cold while taking care of her. The way that he takes care of her.

It is very different to have someone other than royal physicians to tend to her. She finds that it is significantly less indifferent and methodical. Hajime holds her hand while checking her temperature. He strokes her hand while she drinks her medicine down. He reads to her as she struggles to find sleep.

He is not there when she wakes though. And neither is Hajime. What she finds instead is a prepared meal, her medication, and a note reading, ‘taking Atsu to school and heading to work.’

She understands but wishes all the same that she wouldn’t have to endure this alone. Her stomach isn’t quite as delicate today but the pounding in her head brings tears to her eyes. Involuntary tears, but tears no less. To think that her own body is betraying her like this…

By mid afternoon she is certain, this time for sure, that she will die. That Hajime will find her corpse, still warm, in the bed when he gets back. She sits up to take her medication and the nausea comes back with a vengeance. She doubles over, just barely making it to the sink before heaving.

Yes, this is definitely what death feels like. She slumps to the floor, mouth dry, stomach still queasy, and head still beating. Her body shakes.

She knows that it has been at least an hour, possibly longer than that even. She can’t just stay on the bathroom floor, but every time she moves she feels sicker still. Even so, she forces herself up onto her hands and knees. She takes a deep breath and tries to fight off the dizziness.

Spirits, just what kind of sickness has she contracted? WuJing isn’t exactly a peasant town--well it is in that it is a village for commoners, but it isn’t the dirty, disease riddled variety.

She feels arms under her shoulders. Arms that help her to her feet and a body to lean on. “Hajime?” She inquires weakly. But the body is too small to be Hajime. It is too large to be Atsu. “Seukhyun?” But no, it is too small to be Seukhyun too.

“Not quite.”  Replies the man.

If her nose weren’t so backed up she could have easily smelled turnip on him. Ojihara helps her into bed and uncorks the medicine bottle for her. “Your food’s all col’. I’ll fix you somethin’ new to eat.”

“Okay.” She says, her voice has been reduced to little more than a hoarse whisper.

“You got it bad, don’cha?” He clicks his tongue. “‘S a good thing I came to check on you.”

She can’t disagree. She nuzzles her face against the pillow and clutches her fingers around the bed sheets.

“I have a special remedy that my own grandfather passed down from me. S a secret one…” Ojihara calls from the kitchen. “But it works e’ry time. Seukhyun would cry like a baby when he got sick, this stuff fixed ‘im up good as new.”

Azula decides that she will have to remember to bring that up next time she sees Seukhyun. Not that she hasn’t been doing a decent share of crying herself. He doesn't have to know that.

“Thank you, Ojihara.” She mumbles as she curls her fingers around the cup. She sure hopes that this remedy tastes better than it smells.

She feels absolutely horrible and, by all means, the medications and treatments aren’t as effective in Wujing. And yet, somehow, she thinks that she would rather fall ill here than at the palace. The warmest blankets at the palace aren’t as warm as the company that cares for her here.

That day she learns that a moment of vulnerability will strengthen her in the long run.

.oOo.

The icy howling of the wind alone is enough to drive her grief out and freeze her guilty conscience. There isn’t much room to think pessimistically when the only thing on her mind is how painfully and aggravatingly cold it is.

“How do you people live like this?” She shives, wrapping her arms around herself.

“We bundle up adequately for one thing.” Sokka chuckles. “Here.” He holds out a heavier parka.

“I’m already wearing one.”

“But you’re not used to this weather. And where are your mittens?”

“In my pockets, I was having trouble picking things up.”

“You’ll have more trouble picking things up if you lose all of your fingers.” He snatches her hand and shoves it into a mitten. “And pull your hood up!” He doesn’t give her the chance, instead he tugs it over her head. So far that the fur obscures most of her vision. She slips the second mitten on and moves the hood to a more optimal resting place.

“For someone so smart you sure are…”

“I’ve never been to the Tribes before. I didn’t realize that it would be this cold.” Until now such biting weather has been entirely unfathomable to her. She had always thought that the sun was radiant enough to cast heat everywhere. The sun in the Tribes seems so much weaker than it is in the Fire Nation where it beams down upon her with the same merciless brutality as the people under its rays. “I don’t think...it shouldn’t be possible for a place to be so cold.”

Sokka laughs again. “It can’t be sunny everywhere.”

And in most places in her life, it isn’t. Most things in her life are somehow colder than even this. Than even the sort of weather that has her locks stiff and tinged with frost. She shivers. She wants her world to be warm and cozy again. She wants such in every conceivable way; physically and emotionally.

Sokka cups her cheeks, at the very least, his hands are warm. It puts a tickle in her tummy. A tickle that grows in intensity at the dull reminder that she can be warm and cozy again if she lets herself be. “Can we go inside now?” She mutters. “This snow is up to my knees and I’m tired of walking in it.”

Sokka nods. “That’s what snow shoes are for.” He gestures to his feet.

“Those look hard to walk in.”

“Harder than trudging through mounds of snow that are taller than you?” He quirks a brow.

She fights to keep a pout off of her face. He laughs and ruffles her hair before scooping her into his arms. She hadn’t imagined that, that would be the first thing that Katara has seen of her in several years. And she isn’t sure if it is a good impression or not.

Her eyes lock upon Azula. They follow her across the room to where Sokka sits her down in front of a fire.

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s out fishing with Bato. What’s she doing here.” Katara nods in her direction.

“Wweeell...I was hoping to reintroduce her to you and dad.”

Katara’s brows furrow. “You’re not serious, Sokka! I don’t want to talk to her again.”

“She’s different now, she…”

“I don’t care how different she is!” She practically spits the word care.

“You didn’t care how different Zuko was either…”

“Zuko didn’t kill Aang.”

“He tried to.” Azula points out, quite unhelpfully in the grander scheme of things. At the very least, the woman will be speaking about her to her instead of to Sokka. At least that was the hope…

“Zuko...he was confused. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

She wishes that the same could be said now. Sokka comes to stand beside her and rests an arm on her shoulder. She wonders if he can sense her unease through touch alone. She already feels like a monster, she doesn’t need more confirmation of that.

“Just give her a chance, Katara.”

“She’s already had one and she spent it trying to kill her own mother.”

Azula cringes.

“Well this time she’s ready for another chance.”

But she doesn’t think that she can ever be truly prepared. Not for something like this. It doesn’t matter how hard she tries nor how she arranges her deck. Briefly she wonders if it would be better to chance freezing to death than speaking to Katara a moment longer.

“I’m not ready to give her one.”

“Katara…”

“Why do you care about her all of the sudden, Sokka. Remember what she did to Suki?”

“It isn’t really sudden.” Sokka rubs the back of his head. “I’ve been talking to her for a while now and she’s…” he trails off. “She’s actually kind of a sweet person.”

“I am not.” She grumbles.

“Believe it or not, she’s pretty good with kids.” Azula is certain that he has sensed her discomfort this time because he shares a half truth. “Ursa, ya know, her mom…”

“I know who Ursa is, Sokka.”

“Ursa has this kid…”

Katara rolls her eyes, “I was there, Sokka.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“Well Azula gets along with Kiyi and Kiyi’s, uh, friend, Caihong.” Sokka nods, seemingly pleased with his white lie. “Azula really like Caihong and Caihong is an earthbender. And that’s good because Azula used to only talk to earthbenders if they were Dai Li agents…”

Spirts, she can’t remember the last time she had felt such an intense secondhand embarrassment. She wonders if Katara would buy that the color on her cheeks is the product of cold alone.

“Why do you care about her?” Katara asks again.

“Talk her and find out.” Sokka musters up a smile. “You’ll understand why, if you do.”

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 28

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.2k - 4.3k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: filler chapter again sorry! but i tried to make it cute! i didnt plan a sex scene but its there sooo yea haha lol

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : 2 requests! i hope i wrote them right! love them btw! please keep sending them!!!

Chapter 28 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

I thought we would have sex before we went to bed but I must have fallen asleep faster than I wanted to. Niall also probably undressed me because when I woke up in the middle of the night, I was wearing his shirt and nothing else. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed, and brought my shoulder closer to my nose. It smelled like him even if he probably didn't wear it for too long since he had a buttoned shirt at the wedding. I turned around in bed, trying to reach him with my arm but he wasn't there and I let out a short whimper before forcing myself to open my eyes.

The room was dark and quiet and it made a shiver run in my back. I got up and realized his shirt was a bit short. I searched through my stuff for a clean pair of panties and put it on before quietly getting out of the room. Everything was dark except for a very low and warm light in the living room. I walked slowly closer and leaned against the wall when I saw Niall sitting on the couch. He was writing very quickly in his notebook and he was so concentrated that he didn't even notice me. It was always special for me to see him when he seemed to be so deep in his thoughts that no one could get in his bubble. His hair was a mess and once in a while, he ran his hand in it, making the mess even worse. I stared at him for a while as he kept his focus on the paper, wearing only his boxers and making me realize he probably woke up in the middle of the night with an idea that he couldn't let go of. Something that he knew he wouldn’t remember in the morning but that he just had to write about.

I didn't know how long I stayed there but I didn't want to interrupt him or distract him. I just walked back to the room after a while and lied down in bed, looking at the ceiling. I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened to me in the past few months and somehow, I felt like everything was going for the better. The more time passed, the more It seemed like I was discovering who I was and what I wanted.

It was so obvious that what I wanted was Niall but more than that, what I really wanted was a healthy relationship with Niall. I wanted us to be the kind of couple that would drip with sweetness but that also could spend time without each other without going crazy. I wanted him to be my best friend but not my only friend and I didn't want either of us to be afraid, insecure, jealous or unhappy. I knew I was asking a lot, and I knew not everything could be perfect all the time, but I knew Niall and I together could come very fucking close to perfection.

I tried to stay awake until he came back to sleep but once again, I probably had fallen asleep despite myself because when I woke up again, the sun was already up and I had a small headache. I groaned and this time, I knew he was still in bed. I could feel the warmth of his body close to mine and I turned in the sheets, wrapping my arm around his back. His cheek was flat against the mattress just like his chest and I watched him sleep, his lips parted and slightly twisted as he let out a low snore. Fuck, he was so hot and I just stared at him with my eyes half-open for a few minutes, or maybe 15? 20? Who knew?

When I realized how bad I needed to pee, I finally got up very slowly, making sure I wouldn't wake him up. He was always up before me but I knew he had been up a big part of the night to write something and I wanted him to get the rest he needed and clearly deserved.

I made coffee and stayed next to the coffee machine as I watched it fall down, yawning a few times before adding cream and sugar in my cup. I couldn't stop thinking about him going on tour and being separated from him for weeks and it made something twist in my chest. Of course, I didn't want to be the girl who would follow him everywhere. I was not that girl anymore. I was not dependent of the man I loved, and I had stuff to do and commitments, too. We were about to start filming the new season of my tv show and although I dreaded playing with Dylan I knew it was something we had to do. It would be awkward at first, for sure, but in the end, I knew he was professional and I promised myself I would be, too.

I finished my coffee but left the cup in the sink before walking to the living room. It was supposed to be a lazy day and I was surprised my head didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, or that I wasn't nauseous at all despite all the champagne I had drank the night before.

I sat on the couch and pushed the stuff on it to find the remote. It showed that I was spending time at Niall's : his place had never been so messy and I suddenly felt guilty. I finally found the remote but looked at it before sighing, putting it back on the coffee table as I took the decision to clean a bit while he was still asleep. Something caught my attention and even if I knew I shouldn't, I grabbed hos notebook to the page it was opened and started reading. Niall rarely shared his writing with random people until it was a final product and all the songs I had heard was because I had crept on him somehow. I was not proud of it but at the same time, he never really seemed angry about it. I remembered that time when we were all at his place and I had followed the sound of his guitar until I practically fell in the room like a loser as he was playing a song. At that time, I had thought it was about Heidi but now that I knew it was about me, I wished I could remember what the lyrics were. All I could remember was that I had deeply hoped that it was for me. That thought made something twist in my chest and I licked my lips before letting my eyes roam on the words I was probably not supposed to see.

"I want the world to witness When we finally say I do It's the way you love I gotta give it back to you I can't promise picket fences Or sunny afternoons But, at night when I close my eyes"

A lot of words seemed to be scratched a few times and then I could read something that seemed like a chorus.

"Yeah, I see us in black and white Crystal clear on a star lit night In all your gorgeous colors I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life See you standing in your dress Swear in front of all our friends There'll never be another I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life"

I swallowed and ran my fingers on the ink, feeling the tiny rifts and bumps in the paper and feeling my heart beating so fast in my chest that I had a hard time to breathe.

"Now, we're sitting here in your living room Telling stories while we share a drink or two And there's a vision I've been holding in my mind We're 65 and you ask "When did I first know?" I always knew."

And just when I thought it was probably not about me, I saw a word that was also scratched at the end of the lyrics and I could swear it started with a capital O. I grabbed the notebook, moving it up and putting the simple sheet where the song was written in the light. It appeared clearly. My name at the bottom. I didn't know why it was crossed out and I was not sure I wanted to know. but as I re-read the lyrics for the tenth time, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. It was a wedding song.

After a few minutes, I finally started moving again. I cleaned the living room, washed the dishes, started laundry and even started cleaning the windows. All while thinking about the song, the lyrics hitting inside my brain and doing something incredible to my heart : something I hadn't felt ever before. I would never tell him but if Niall asked me to marry him at this exact moment, I would say yes. Was it because of the great time we had the night before? Or maybe because we were so happy together these days? I had no idea. But I knew I'd say yes in a heartbeat. Tomorrow, I couldn't tell you what my answer would be but today? It would be a million times yes.

I saw him walk behind me in the reflection of the now extra clean windows and my lips immediately curled. He placed himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning his chin on my shoulder, and suddenly, I felt so much better than I did only a few minutes ago, even if I was still happy before.

"You should have waken me up." he whispered in my ear. "I would have helped you. Especially that you're cleaning wearing only a shirt and panties. I'd love to see you on all four as you clean the floor."

I laughed and raised my nose up as he kissed a spot near my ear. It was not only my love for him that made my heart jump when he was near, it was more than that. It was who he was, who I hoped he would always be.

"Tell me you'll always do that, that you'll always say things like that."

He pulled away slightly and turned his head more to look at me. I waited for his answer but he was waiting for me to look at him and I gave in, my eyes finally meeting his.

"Hold you? Kiss you? Tell you that I love and lust you?" he asked low, raising his eyebrows. I bit my bottom lip and nodded. "I promise. I swear. You have my words. And my heart. And my body, soul and mind."

My traits softened and I turned in his arms to face him, wrapping mine around his neck, moving my chin up to kiss him. He pushed me gently against the window as we kissed and I felt my butt press against it, making me chuckle.

"I'm gonna have to clean that window again." I let out with a smile as he chuckled against my lips.

"Or, you know, we can leave it like that." he proposed, shrugging a shoulder. "Your butt print seems like a nice decoration."

I'm the one who laughed this time. "You? Leaving a dirty window without touching it? Who are you trying to fool, Horan?"

"Don't call me that." he just said in a serious tone, raising his eyebrows.

"Or what?"I asked, teasing him with a sassy voice.

"Or I'm gonna tickle you." he pointed out, making my heart skip a beat. "I'm gonna tickle you until you beg me to stop."

"Sure, Horan." I tried to provoke him, putting emphasis on his last name.

He stared at me for a few seconds but suddenly and quickly, he picked me up and brought me to the couch. I was surprised that he could actually support my weight and he finally let me fall on the couch as I bounced on the cushions but he quickly straddled me, grabbing my wrists and pulling them over my head. When was the last time we played like that? It had been so long I couldn't remember.

"Apologize now." he ordered, looking down at me.

I could feel his grip tighten on my wrists and I licked my lips. "Never."

"Last chance." he let out, making me smirk.

"Bite me, Horan."

Quickly, he brought his free hand to my waist and started tickling me. Immediately, I started squirming, trying to get out of his grip as I let out a few high pitched yells. It made him laugh and it made me remember how much I hated to be tickled. After a while, he stopped and my lips parted as I started panting.

"You looking like that? God. Makes me want to tie you up and have my way with you."

I let out a short laughter and he started tickling me again until I started screaming his name.

"Niall! Niall stop! I c-can't!"

He did as I asked and smirked. "Beg me." he let out, shaking his eyebrows. "Apologize and beg me."

"Mm, I'm so sorry, Niall." I whispered with puppy eyes. "Please I'm begging you, stop tickling me?"

"Don't you fucking pout like that, it makes me want to fuck your mouth."

I laughed louder this time, tilting my head back slightly and closing my eyes as I felt his hand run up my breasts.

"And you say I'm the horny one!"

"Heyyy!" he argued with a frown. "I fingered you last night and I didn't cum at all, remember?"

My smirk disappeared and I just smiled at him. "You want to cum now?"

He groaned and raised his nose up. "I feel like all we do is fuck."

I shrugged and he finally let go of my wrists. I brought my hands to his pants and slid one in them, raising my eyebrows again but in surprise this time.

"You went commando?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he reached for my shirt and moved it up to expose my breasts as I took his cock out of his pants, stroking him slowly with both my hands. He breathed in and then out, letting out a very short whimper and one of his hands moved back to reach between my legs. He moved two of his fingertips on my panties, brushing against my clit and I pressed my lips together. I tried to focus on what my hands were doing and spit on his cock before running my fingers right under his tip. He groaned and brought his hand back to grab one of my breasts hard and I started stroking him harder.

"That feels so fucking good." he admitted, running his thumb on my nipple. "I tried doing that to myself and it just doesn't work. It has to be your hands."

I didn't tell him but it probably could have been anyone's hands except his and even if he probably knew it, I didn't want to point it out just in case. He took his cock in his hands, making me hold my breath and take my hands away and quickly, he tapped his cock on my tits before rubbing his tip on my nipples.

"Please, petal, push your tits together."

My heart jumped so high in my chest that I had to swallow it back.

"Niall, I don't think my boobs are big enough to-"

"Do it." he cut me.

I bit my bottom lip and did as he asked, just watching him spit in his hand and rub his cock again. My lips parted when he put his cock between my breasts and he was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't even look at me again. I could pretend otherwise but watching him using me to cum was actually exciting and when he groaned, I pressed my thighs together as I felt my pussy throb. I loved the feeling of his cock sliding quickly between my breasts and the thought in itself was driving me insane. After a while, he took his dick back in his hand and started jerking off harder until his lips parted.

"Jesus Christ." he whispered as I held my breath.

He shook slightly over me, moaning low as his cum spurted on my chest and breasts. I just remained motionless as he came down from his high, letting out a low 'fuck" and rubbing his tip on my nipples again, spreading his cum on me.

He sighed and sat on me, putting his cock back in his pants as I stared at him and he shook his head.

"I'm so.. so sorry. I was just so..."

"Horny? Yea I noticed." I chuckled, letting my lips curl as he finally looked back at me.

"I didn't really give you much attention, did I?" he asked, raising his nose up. I could read guilt on his face and my lips curled. "I'm sorry, pet."

"I'm just... I'm glad I made you cum. Didn't think that would be so exciting, but it was." I admitted, pulling my shirt back over my breasts as he laughed. "Also didn't think it was possible with my boobs."

"Your boobs are perfect." he pointed out before getting up and holding his hand out for me.

I put my hand in his and his fingers gripped mine as he helped me get up, letting his eyes roam on my face. He bent down to kiss me and I closed my eyes at the way it made my heart jump in my chest.

"Lazy day yea?" he proposed in a breath, his mouth still pressed against mine. "You go take a shower and I'll close all the curtains, find a good tv show to binge on netflix, and order something, chinese maybe?"

I nodded quickly and smiled. "That sounds perfect."

I took a quick shower and put on a pair of his sweatpants and one of his shirts and when I got back in the living room, he had brought pillows and blankets, a few beers and was waiting for me with the remote in hands. I stared at him for a while, just trying to live the moment and realize how lucky I was, before finally sitting next to him. He looked up at me with a smile and I pushed the pillows away to lean against his chest as his back was against the side of the couch. His legs were spread but they moved a bit close to both my sides, kind of to trap me close to him. He tried to put the blanket over us and I helped him before squirming slightly to be more comfortable.

"Hey, watch the goods, yea?"

I laughed but still took care of where I was moving and he wrapped one of his arms around me.

"Remember this spot because food will be there in half an hour and we're gonna have to do it all over again." he said, making me groan and making him laugh. "Seriously though, it feels good to have you here with me just to have a lazy day."

I felt my heart swell and smiled more, turning to kiss his jaw gently. He looked down and his lips met mine and he deepened the kiss just as the first episode of a series we both wanted to watch started.

"How will I be able to focus on anything but you today, mm?" I let out, half-joking.

He rolled his eyes with a low chuckle and we both focused on the tv for a while. I groaned when the doorbell rang and he laughed again. I sat up to let him get up and when he came back with the food, I realized how hungry I was. we ate again in silence but I couldn't stop glancing at him. There was something endearing in the way he used his chopsticks to push the noddles in his mouth and I only realized I was staring when he turned his gaze to me and chuckled. I blinked a few times and looked away as he swallowed his food.

"It's okay, you can stare. I stare at you too, you know. You just don't notice."

I felt my heart jump in my chest and put my food away.

"Just like I stared at you for about twenty minutes in the middle of the night." I confessed, making him frown. "You were sitting here, in only your boxers, and you were writing. You were so focused on what you were doing that you never noticed me."

I couldn't add that I had found him gorgeous with his messy hair and his tired eyes. I couldn't say that I had felt a wave of love so strong that I almost started crying. I couldn't tell him that because it still embarrassed me to be so in love with him. Not because I didn't want to be, but because I was scared I would end up losing him again.

His lips curled into a smile and he pushed the air out of his lungs. "I was writing a song. For you. About you."

My lips crashed against his and he replied to the kiss quickly, pushing his tongue deep in my mouth as I whimpered. He didn't know that I had read it and I suddenly felt guilty but he literally confirmed that his lyrics were about me and somehow, it made me ecstatic. So ecstatic that I surprised myself wishing he'd ask me to marry him as soon as our lips would part.

"I didn't know if I should tell you but, Olivia, I'm so happy we're both single right now. I know it's wrong to say that but fuck, I'm happy with you. Just you and I. No guilt, no stress, no question. You and me, living this moment."

I kissed him again, not knowing what to answer. I was happy too. I was happier than I had ever been, even before we broke up, and I didn't want anything to change. I didn't want to jinx this by claiming my happiness out loud. I didn't want to risk this happiness with an official relationship because last time didn't end well. It was ridiculous. All my fears made no sense, but it didn't make them vanish to know that.

"I love you, Niall." I whispered, leaving small kisses slowly on his mouth, jaw and cheeks. "I love you more than anything. No one is you."

He finally let go of his chopsticks to cup my face and he breathed in before his mouth found mine again.

"I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life." he murmured quickly before kissing me again.

My heart jumped when I recognized the lyrics and it made me wonder how often he talked to me with his own lyrics. I wanted to hear all of them. One time, twice, three times... a hundred fucking times. I wanted him to play me all the songs that were for me, to sing them, to whisper them, to yell them. I wanted him to make love to me while he'd do it, to hold my hand as we walked outside as he'd sing, to fucking marry me as he'd yell. I wanted him to claim his love for me until I'd be tired to hear it. And deep down, I knew I'd never be.

"I have a weekend left before I leave for tour." he just said sadly, breaking my heart. "I thought we could leave. Pack a bag, take the road, only you and me, for a few days."

My lips curled so much that my cheeks started hurting and I quickly nodded. I really wanted to spend quality time with him while it was still possible and I kissed his lips again.

"That's a yes?" he made sure as I nodded. "Okay then, we're leaving in 3 days. So cancel all the plans you had."

I laughed and licked my lips, licking his at the same time because of the proximity of our mouths.

"Niall? I'm sorry, I had planned to spend all my days with you but this super hot guy just asked me on a road trip so I'm gonna have to rain check."

He laughed and shook his head slightly. "Dork."

He pulled away slightly to stare at me as we completely forgot the show playing. I grabbed the remote and put it on pause before looking back at him and tilting my head. I needed him more than I ever needed him before and it was scaring me so bad I could feel my heart trying to escape my rib cage in intense thumps.

"Tell me you love me." I whispered as I bit my bottom lip nervously. "Please, Niall."

His face changed and he moved closer. I thought he'd kiss me again but instead, he got serious and I felt him grab my hands.

"I love you, Olivia. I'm in love with you. I never stopped, not one second. And I never will. Do you want me to repeat it every day? At which frequency? Every 6 hours? 4 hours? Two? I'll put a damn alarm on my phone to tell you in the middle of the night if I have to." he said in a soft tone. "I know it was different when we dated, but I will never let you believe that you are not perfect the way you are, that you are not everything I want and need, or that you are not loved. Never again. I swear, Olivia. I fucking love you."

[baekhyuq]

“Cybersex.” Baekhyun (m) Robot!bbh

[Artificial Intelligence!Baekhyun/Robot!Baekhyun]

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word count: 3.5k

Playlist: Cybersex - Doja Cat/Say so-Doja Cat

Summary: You order your first AI because you’re lonely, but the AI seems to be more in control of you than you are of him.

Dragging the tab to customize your characters face, you make a sound as it comes together. Your customized character looks absolutely fuckable. In your own words.

Your friend—Yeri—introduced you to a very popular company that allows you to custom a robot/AI and have it delivered right to your door step. This was a dangerous thing you’ve considered many times. What if the AI becomes something evil? Your worries were just childish but valid. Your friend assured you nothing bad would happen, you could always report it to the company.

She went on to tell you how she’s had her AI for about a year and nothing has happened. You remember coming over to meet her robot—man. He was charming to say the least, with the modern technology they’ve developed over the years, they’ve replicated human emotions almost perfectly. Some interactions are still awkward and stiff between the human and AI.

“It’s expensive but worth it, I need somebody.” You talk yourself into hitting the confirm order button. You stare at the button for over 5 minutes before clicking it and instantly regret.

“W-wait.” You breathe out, what if this was the worst thing you’ve done yet?

***

“Y/n you can’t cancel it...Once the order is made you can’t go back.” Yeri tells you over lunch. You’re both eating veggie burgers with a side of fries. You explained how you’ve tried everything to cancel your order to the company.

“I cant believe I just blew so much money on fucking AI.” You sulk in your seat, the truth is, you’re lonely and need a companion but literally buying one isn’t the way to go about it. Right?

“I just wanted someone to share my time with.” You confess, embarrassed. “Is there really no way to cancel my order?” You ask for the third time.

Yeri sighs, “No. Y/n, just think of it as a treat for yourself. There’s no harm done with wanting company!” She manages to cheer you up about the situation in which you’ve spent a large sum on a robot man.

If there’s no way you’re getting your money back then you might as well start making a place for it to stay.

You and Yeri shop for things to decorate its room with. Living in a two bed apartment, you had the space for the AI to live. Or exist, whatever it will do.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. You check your phone, a message displaying across the screen. “AI has been delivered.”

It’s been only a day.

“Yeri!?!” You yell in the middle of checking out.

She turns to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong? Do you not like the bedding that much? I’ll change—“

“It says he’s been delivered!” You whisper yell, you didn’t want anyone knowing you fell into society’s trap of having an AI.

Yeri’s face relaxes, “Their delivery has gotten faster, Chanyeol took about three days for them to ship him.” She smiles fondly, “We should go to your house asap.”

***

“I didn’t freaking know he would get here the very next day!” You’re more freaked out by the very tall box that’s standing by your front door.

“I-is he alive in there?” You tap the box.

“He has to be activated first silly.” Yeri giggles at you, pushing the box past your door way. “Let’s go!”

“Yeri im terrified.” The heavy box has been standing in your living room for almost 20 minutes. Yeri has had enough of your hesitating self, she’s taken the responsibility into her own hands to open the box.

“Instructions. These are important, so don’t throw them away, got it?” She talks you through the unboxing. She pulls the wings of the cardboard back and you see a hand.

“Oh my god!” You cover your eyes. This can’t be fucking happening.

Yeri tears away the plastic the robot is wrapped in. You peep through your fingers. He’s absolutely breathtaking. You gasp audibly.

“Oh my god, Y/n. You made this?!” Yeri’s surprised by how handsome he is, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Oh he’s toned, lets activate him!”

Yeri takes your phone and goes to the app of the company. She navigates through some steps before coming to a loading bar.

“Once this is filled up then you’ll have yourself a man!” Yeri’s clapping happily as she sits beside you to wait patiently. “You did such a good job, his face is so handsome.”

You’re jaw is still on the ground, you can’t believe your creation is here in the...flesh? You’re scared but at the same time you’re also excited.

“It’s almost finished.” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your staring competition with the robot that has ceased to live yet. “Complete!”

A sound is emitted from the app, a beeping and a few buzzing sounds before its quiet. You can Yeri are hanging off the edge of the couch.

“Did it work—“

The AI jolts to life and looks around the room before introducing himself, “Hello, my name is Baekhyun.” A smile reaches his face and he looks even more handsome.

You’re forced to stand, reaching out to take his hand, shaking it. “H-hello my name is Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you, Baekhyun.” Your hand is sweaty and you’re hoping he isn’t able to feel it.

“Your hand is damp, sweaty palms is an indicator that the person is nervous. Am I making you nervous Y/n?” The AI says intelligently, his voice is soothing. It’s also embarrassing that he just pointed that out.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nervous since I ordered you...” You’re uncomfortable claiming that you bought him right to his face. Is it like an unnamed rule that you shouldn’t mention it?

“That is a normal reaction I suppose.” He laughs, your heart melts and your stomach erupts with butterflies. “Your brain is releasing oxytocin and cortisol, now your blood vessels around your gut are constricting. You must be feeling nauseous now, or as you humans call it ‘having butterflies in your stomach’.”

How can he tell by just standing near you?! It’s almost creepy!

“Baekhyun you’re very knowledgeable, you know that?” Yeri jumps in to slice the awkward conversation. She stands up to shake Baekhyun’s hand introducing herself.

“Nice to meet you, Yeri.”

“I actually have an AI of my own, his name is Chanyeol.”

“I’ve never heard that name before. He must be a customized model?” Baekhyun asks.

Yeri nods, “I should introduce him to you one day!” That’s not a bad idea, Baekhyun will probably become lonely here when you’re out.

Baekhyun smiles before shifting his attention to you. “You are my creator, correct?”

His question throws you off for a second. “Yes.”

“Alright, you must answer a few questions for my system if that’s alright.”

“Ah yes, that’s fine, please come and sit.” You and Baekhyun sit next to each other while Yeri wonders off into the kitchen for food.

Baekhyun asks questions such as what his duties are, or where he may or may not go in the house, ect.

“What is my purpose?” He asks, a blue dot by his ear lights up.

“For keeping me company...” You couldn’t blatantly tell him he was here because you wanted a man in your life! What kind of creator would you look like?

“Just company?” Baekhyun smirks almost, a questioning look on his face. He doesn’t press further, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. He could sense your heart rate increase at his questions. Your cheeks were becoming red by the minute. Each question would result in a stuttering response from you. Baekhyun found you fascinating.

“That is all I needed thank you, my system will accommodate to you based on the answers you provided.”

“Ah, no problem.” You can’t help but stare at him, he’s just so perfect. The round rip of his nose and the curve of his cheeks. It’s all so inhuman.

“I h-have a question actually.” You turn to face Baekhyun, your leg brushing his.

He nods encouraging you to speak.

“May I touch your face? I know it sounds weird but I just can’t stop staring at it, I know I created your face and all but I just want to see for myself. You know? Should I not mention that I created you? Does it make you uncomfortable? I won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable—“

Baekhyun interrupts your speech by grabbing your hand and placing it on his cheek. “Fleshy exterior and a metal interior. I’m made of 60 percent of customized silicone to replicate human skin. But the rest of me is various metals. You may ask any other questions you might have, I will answer to the best of my abilities.” His voice is silk, not skipping even one beat as he spoke.

Your hand hesitates in feeling around his face, tracing his nose and pinching his cheeks even. He feels just like a human. “What’s your hair made of?”

“100 percent human hair.” He chuckles, his hands in his lap. “My teeth are made of the silicone and various muscles replicated are made from the silicone, but with variations of densities with making one organ harder or squishy. Here touch it.” He sticks out his tongue and you grab it without hesitation. It’s wet and rough like a tongue.

“Wow, thats so freaky.”

“Right? The wondrous world of AI technology!” Baekhyun’s first joke to crack has you giggling endlessly.

***

‘He’s charming’ is your first thought of Baekhyun, he hasn’t stopped making you laugh since he’s arrived. Another thing is that he’s understanding, you’ve been sharing your personal life with him and he’s listened the whole time without judgement. He’s even given you well constructed advice.

“Ah! I forgot, Yeri and I were actually shopping for your room today. We picked up a few things, we weren’t sure what you’d like since...you know.” You led him to his room which was right across form yours.

“Wow that’s very considerate of you both, I really appreciate it.” Baekhyun looks around, the rooms to his liking. He doesn’t know exactly what he likes about it but he’s content with it.

“If you want anything else to decorate it with just let me know!” You stand at the door with your hands together. It’s an awkward silence before Baekhyun speaks.

“Is there anything that you would like me to do?”

“Oh, I—no. Not right now, no.” Your stuttering response makes Baekhyun emit a laugh.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me Y/n. I am your creation think of me as...” He pauses to think, his chin in his hand. He looks back at you, “Think of me as if i’m just your boyfriend!”

You choke on your spit, alarming Baekhyun who stands up to pat your back.

“Baekhyun I think i’m going to take a shower feel free to wonder the apartment.” You spit out before practically running to your room. If he wasn’t a fucking AI you would jump his bones right then and there.

You try to calm your heart rate with a steamy shower. The mirrors fogged up and you’re listening to your music on a low volume, minding your new roommate.

You’re shaving your legs when you hear the door open. You pause, did you hear right? There’s no possible way he would—

The shower curtain is ripped back and reveals a naked Baekhyun.

“Baekhyun—close the curtain! What are you doing in here!?” You scream in terror, your AI has literally just seen you naked.

“I thought this was an invitation? Did I read you wrong? Your body temperature was very high and your eyes were dilated. Those were signs of attraction, then you said you would go shower, I thought—“

“Baekhyun get out!” You cut him off by yelling.

Baekhyun leaves the bathroom. You’re absolutely mortified and embarrassed. You get out the shower wrapping a towel around your body to dry off. You begin to dress when you notice the shadow of his feet. You pull open the door, standing face to face with Baekhyun.

“Y/n, I ran through my system to see what mistake I made and I apologize.” He looks down at you, his arms at his side. He looks so robotic.

“Baekhyun don’t come into the bathroom when I’m in here... People take showers alone, okay?” You’re straining from what you want to actually say. Please fuck me now, Baekhyun.

“Yes Y/n.” There’s a pause. “Did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The body you created.” He almost smirks, and you want to wipe it off his face. His subtle cocky attitude makes you uncomfortably horny.

“Seeing as your body temperature is rising again and you’re blinking a lot. And also how your brain is releasing plenty of dopamine and also your nipples are poking through your shirt. You must have enjoyed a part of it.” He’s leaning closer, blocking you from running.

“Tell me Y/n. Do you want to test if this body can meet your expectations? Would you like a test drive?” Baekhyun’s mouth is by your ear, his breath fanning the side of your face.

You can barely respond with a nod, not trusting your voice.

“I need words, I need your verbal permission. I will not hold back If you agree Y/n.” The way he says your name, your kitty is dripping already.

“Yes, Baekhyun. Please take me.” You gain a small amount of confidence from his want. His desire. Your hands grips his toned arms.“I want you.” You whisper.

Baekhyun picks you up with inhuman strength and carries you to your room. He tosses you on the bed.

“I would ask how you like it, but telling by your arousal at me throwing you on the bed I’d conclude you enjoy it rough.”

His words shoot right to your kitty. Fuck, how could this robot possess so much sex appeal right now? Looking like that should be a punishable crime.

You’re also curious, as to how he will perform. Will he be inhumanly perfect? Will he be careful? They are questions begging to be answered.

“What are you thinking of at a time like this? You’re zoning out.” Baekhyun straddles you on the bed, his hands running up your sides to take hold of your hands. He pins them above you, glaring down at you.

“Keep your mind only on what’s happening in this room.”

“I was thinking about you.” You bite your lip as you shamefully admit your dirty thoughts.

“Were you?” His eyes travel down to your lips, he licks his own.

“I was thinking of how you would be..in bed.”

“Is that so? Why don’t I just demonstrate.” Baekhyun dips his head to catch your lips with his. His lips taste like cherry, how could this be? His hand comes to the side of your face to caress your cheek. He’s gentle.

“Go ahead then.” You gain confidence at his desire, once more.

“Yes, Y/n.” He breaks away to let a smirk play on his lips. He starts with your nightgown, taking off the lacy slip. He kisses your shoulders and over your collarbones. His hand travels to your waist, holding you. You breathe calmly, the nervousness melting away with each kiss set by Baekhyun.

“Your heart rate has calmed but your body temperature is rising. How adorable.” He pushes your panties down teasingly, not taking them off. You roll your eyes, pushing him by his shoulder. For an artificial man he posses enough charisma and sex appeal to charm you out of your panties yourself.

He lets the band of your panties smack against your skin. You whine and pout, furrowing your brows at him. Baekhyun puts his hand over your clothed kitty, letting a single finger push down and sink between your folds. He rubs your clit gently, barely stimulating you but revving your engine nonetheless. You grab onto his wrist, asking him to rub you harder.

“Stop teasing.” You whine at his dainty touch, wanting to be petted way heavier than what he’s giving. Baekhyun laughs at your desperate attempts. He gives in and presses harder on your clit, rubbing in circles. You moan quietly, biting your lip quickly after.

Baekhyun’s brows furrow at the sound of your moans, his ears have never heard such a sound before. He rubs your clit harder to hear the song once more. You hold out trying not to embarrass yourself but it slips out when Baekhyun licks up your neck.

“Your moans are so adorable, Y/n.” You feel his voice vibrate through his chest.

Baekhyun slips his hand into your panties, touching your bare clit, his fingers become sticky and damp. The sounds coming from between your thighs fill the room, along with your heavy breathing. Baekhyun seems to be the only one unaffected.

“How can you not be out of breath?” You ask, turning your head to face him.

Baekhyun grins at the layer of sweat over your body. “Oh, Sweetheart. I am very much affected.” He takes your hand and places it over his chest, his hearts beating fast. “You caused this.”

He catches your lips in his and your hand sneaks up to the side of his face. His finger dipping into your hole surprising you, you jolt and let out a surprised squeak.

“The noises you make, I could listen to them all day.” Baekhyun confesses, he sits up, positioning you to lay on your stomach.

You lay obediently, becoming anxious for his touch. His thighs are on either side of your ass, his hand lands on the small of your back. His fingers walk up your spine to your shoulders, then down to the small of your back.

“Baekhyun stop playing, grab my ass.” You whine, arching your back for him even further.

Baekhyun erupts with laughter, “You’re so impatient.” He smacks your ass before grabbing it and soothing the sting. He slides off your panties tossing them on the floor. He has full access to your pussy. He dips his fingers between your thighs, rubbing you from behind. It feels as if the sensation feels more intense in this position.

You moan softly, earning a grunt from Baekhyun. You turn your head to see his face. He’s already looking at you. His dark eyes are penetrating yours. You feel as if you can’t hold out anymore.

“Baekhyun, please fuck me.”

Baekhyun undresses in an instant, you didn’t have to tell him twice. He’s positioning himself up to your pussy and slowly slides in. You almost cry out from the stretch. His length is perfect but he’s thicker than anyone you’ve ever had. He bottoms out, resting his hand on your hip. He slides out and thrusts forward slowly, letting out a low moan in your ear. His chest touches your back. Your breathing is uneven and your heart is beating fast. You could feel every inch of Baekhyun, his delicious cock buried inside of you. Baekhyun wraps and arm around your neck, holding you to him. He starts thrusting quickly, you squeeze your eyes shut at the pleasure.

Your climax begins to build, the knot in your stomach unraveling slowly. You reach down to rub your clit but Baekhyun slaps your hand away, rubbing it himself. You almost feel sensitive at the way he’s rubbing it and you jerk away from his touch.

“Baekhyun i’m about to cum!” You whine loudly, biting down on his arm. The slapping noises emitting from you both fill the room and the bed creaks quietly. The air is filled with sex and the smell of sweat.

Baekhyun furrows his brows as he speeds uo his thrusts. Your body is buried in the mattress, your hip burning from his grip on it. You feel as if any second you will—

“Ah~” Your feet dig into Baekhyun’s lower back, pressing him further into you. Your greedy kitty contracts around his length as Baekhyun tries to reach his own climax. Is it possible for an AI to ejaculate? You find out soon when Baekhyun lets out an animalistic grunt and your back is covered in a sticky wet goodness. Your feet drop back into the bed, fatigue plaguing you as your head rests on Baekhyun’s arm under you. You can feel his heavy breathing evening out as he rolls off of you.

“Well?” He breathes out, looking over at you.

You look up at him with droopy eyes. “Well what?”

“How was my performance, did I meet your expectations?” His toothy smile melts your heart once more. You place a hand on his chest, curling up by his side.

“You were amazing, I didn’t think I would cum so hard by an AI.” You tease poking your tongue out at Baekhyun. He spanks your ass and you giggle.

“This AI can do more than make you cum more than once, Sweetheart.”

[its-ya-boi-autumn]

Omg omg omg its me AGAIN. Idk how its possible but im in love all over again. I was thinking, like idk ive got so many ideas but like what if one day adeline is like 15 and she kills someone out of instinct, rage etc. And shes rlly guilty and chrollo happens to be in the same city/area n sees n hes gives her the talk??? Like "it is what it is". Maybe even helps her hide the body n evidence so his ex s/o doesn't flip? Totally understand if u dont wanna do 2 requests in a row, love ya xx.

I'm totally fine with doing two in a row baby~ I'm just a little slow is all 🤣 I've had a lot of social interaction going on today and then I came home and now I gotta fix my room so if this doesn't come out the same day I apologize 😅 (probably won't, I'm just super tired) Warning: abuse and violence

Adeline’s chest was heaving, her throat feeling as if she were breathing fire instead of air. Her chest and cheeks were colored an angry red and her legs were beginning to go numb. She couldn’t fall now, not when he was quick on her heels. Tears stained her cheeks, still falling from her eyes. The adrenaline continued to push her forward. To keep her running as fast as she could. The ponytail that held her hair up finally gave way, allowing her long black hair to block some of her vision when she turned around for a split second.

Danny was still too close for her to even begin to slow, his stamina almost inhuman.

A sob wracked her entire body at the sight and she nearly tripped. Her eyes frantically darted everywhere. Where could she run that would slow him down? Could she hide anywhere? Was there anyone else around? She had to find something to at least slow him down. Was there anything at all? Running straight through the pathway in the woods had proven to be a bad idea after she came out into a vast meadow of nothing but grass and dirt patches. 

“Adeline-”

“Leave me alone!” her voice screeched into the evening air, tearing at the tissue in her throat. She prayed her voice would be heard by someone. Anyone. Danny’s pace picked up, his arms quickly enveloping her, crushing her ribs.

“Adeline Lucilfer-”

“LET GO OF ME!” her fist reached up, coming into contact with his jaw and forcing his head up roughly. Danny released her, his hands covering his mouth at the throbbing pain he was probably experiencing. Adeline wasted no time to be proud of herself and began to run again, but her legs weren’t having it. The short time she had been stopped caused her muscles to relax and they wouldn’t cooperate anymore. Instantly, she fell forward, trying to force herself up again and keep going. She heard the deep groan of pain resonating in Danny’s chest. Her heart raced. What could she do? Her legs were rendered completely useless right now and there was nothing she could defend herself with other than her own two fists.

All the running she had done was starting to catch up to her too, her lungs having a hard time allowing her to breathe and her throat burning. Her body wouldn’t help her this time. She was sure she was done for. Adeline flipped onto her back, trying to almost crab walk away while Danny was still getting his bearings. When his eyes met hers, they were swirling with nothing but pure malice. He’d had enough.

“Adeline...” his voice was soft despite his hard face. Her own eyes grew wide, tears once again blurring her vision. The only thing she could actually see was Danny’s broad shape standing to his full height, strolling towards her slowly.

“No... no, no, no, no- Danny please, just leave me alone!” she opted to beg for him, hoping that some slimmer of his good side would show through, showing him what he was actually doing. What he was about to do. Danny didn’t seem to notice her begging or at the very least he didn’t seem to care. Adeline pushed herself up to run but she wasn’t fast enough. A harsh blow was received directly between her shoulder blades, forcing any air in her lungs out within a matter of seconds. She choked, falling onto her chest again. Coughing, she made another attempt to steady herself, but another hit was taken on her lower back. It didn’t hurt as bad as the first one, but the initial shock caused her to hesitate for just a moment too long. A rough hand snatched up her arm and suddenly her body was flipped onto its back. Danny dropped to his knees on top of her and she watched his fist slam into her chest.

Another hit.

Another.

And another.

Her face.

Her chest.

Her stomach.

Adeline was limp on the ground, her breathing becoming more and more labored as the sun set behind her. Her vision had gone completely blurry and she could feel the large bruises forming on her skin. He was brutal. Adeline was only 15, this shouldn’t of been happening. She should have listened to you. She should have listened when you told her to find Chrollo and bring him to her. She should have listened when you said to have Chrollo handle ‘daddy’. But she didn’t. Adeline thought she could protect you from Danny. She wanted to be the hero.

“Are you done running, Adeline?” his voice broke her thoughts. She couldn’t even bring herself to make eye contact with him, still watching the sun fall below the horizon, stars beginning to twinkle in the distance.

“Answer me.” the command shook her.

“Yes...” she tried to form the word properly but her tongue was too big for her mouth all of a sudden.

“Yes what?”

“Yes... daddy...” his sexualization of the word sickened her, but she couldn’t bear to be hit again. She might go unconscious if he struck another blow. He stood, taking her by the shirt collar and making her stand. She stumbled, coming across something in her jacket pocket as her hand fell in while she stabilized herself on her knees.

Her house key.

Hope pushed through her misery. She could put an end to this. An end to him.

“Hurry up, your mother can’t be alone for too long, not with that Chrollo guy running around still. Fucking scumbag..” Danny scoffed, turning to face her again. It hurt her to hear him call Chrollo such a thing. Chrollo had been nothing but sweet you her and you when he came over to see you. She wasn’t sure of why it was her specifically that he wanted to see, but that was probably what you meant to talk to her about today.

“Let’s go!” he ordered, waiting impatiently. Adeline didn’t move, thinking her plan out of how to end this man. This horrible, sick man. Her hand stayed within her pocket, fingering the key in thought. Danny’s teeth ground together, his feet stomping up to the young girl.

“Was I not clear enough? I said let’s go-” when he raised his hand to hit her again, he left himself open. Adeline slid the key out of her pocket and dug it across his throat. At first, she thought she failed as no blood even shown. What gave it away was Danny’s mere expression of surprise. An uneven white slit on his neck turned dark red as it spotted with blood. Then, it poured. The red liquid ran down his chest, leaving the man choking on himself. Adeline slowly backed away, hoping he wouldn’t charge at her in a spur of the moment. Danny did no such thing, solely focused on the fact that his throat had been slit. The fact that he was going to die. Adeline didn’t know what else to do other than watch him struggle to breathe. His hands covered his throat for a moment and wiped at the blood, pulling them away again to see the bright red on his fingers.

“You... you cut me...” his voice was weak and shaky. Adeline didn’t reply. She backed away more, falling onto the ground as her legs fell numb from running. She kept backing away from him, trying to keep her distance.

“Adeline...” he was trying to make her feel like shit, and it was working. What had she done? She just killed the man she called her father and for what? Her mother? Herself? She didn’t even know the answer as he crawled forward. She moved backwards, keeping her distance from him. Danny fell to his knees before her, hand outstretched.

“Why would you... why would you do this?” he kept going as if he didn’t know. As if he hadn’t been the cause of so many sleepless night for both Adeline and yourself. How was he not dead yet? He had to die soon, this was too painful for her to watch. Danny balanced himself on his free hand while the other tried to hold his neck closed, stopping himself from bleeding out. Faster, he scrambled towards her. Adeline held no mercy in her leg as it surged outward, kicking him in the nose. He recoiled on the dirt. Crying. Danny had never cried before, in fact, it was always Adeline and you who cried because of him. Nonetheless, listening to the man sob, helpless and dying in the dust made Adeline nauseous. She couldn’t take this, she couldn’t just sit her and watch him bleed out. But she felt like she couldn’t leave him alone here either. Dying alone was her worst fear. The knowledge of murdering somebody and leaving them to nature made her wretch up her dinner. Doubling over, she puked to the sound of Danny’s final sobs.

Her hands trembled as she held the key in her hand. Why hadn’t he continued to fight her? He still had a chance and he just laid there, surprised by her courage to go so far as to slit his throat. Again, her stomach shoved food up and out of her esophagus, a horrid stench clouding her senses. Her shoulders shook as she lay there on the ground. She didn’t even hear the footsteps come up from behind her.

“Adeline?” a gentle male voice startled her, making her gag on her own vomit. She turned, her eyes meeting Chrollo’s. His brows we’re furrowed, worry obvious in his features.

“What happened?” he kneeled down to her, ignoring her mess underneath her and behind her, curled up in the dirt. Dead.

“I... I can’t-” and she threw up again. Chrollo’s hands worked themselves into her hair, pulling it back for her to keep it out of her face.

“You’re okay, I’m right here.” he shushed her gently, his free hand rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort her shaking form. Another vile pool retched out of her mouth, hacking and dry heaving following suit.

Eventually, she managed to calm down. Adeline sat up and wiped her mouth with her jacket sleeve, quickly becoming disgusted with the action and discarding of the attire altogether. She wheezed against her sore throat, the tops of her lungs burning again like when she was running.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Chrollo didn’t even seem affected by the dead man right next to him, even taking a chance to glance at him. His eyes didn’t linger too long on Danny, obviously more worried about Adeline herself than anything. When his eyes met hers again, she couldn’t help but let those tears from before slip out and onto her bruised cheeks and chest. Chrollo didn’t push her any further, instead moving closer to her and embracing her. Every instinct told her to push him away, that she was a monster and that she didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, not after killing somebody. But her weakness didn’t allow her to fight back and she simply melted against Chrollo’s chest, sobbing and quaking. You always told Adeline that Chrollo was a sweet-tempered man, that he was always patient with you and with his friends. It seemed you had been right. He didn’t force Adeline to tell him anything, he didn’t shove her away or treat her unkindly. He knew she wasn’t a bad person and that she was in a state of distress. He had to of known that Adeline wouldn’t kill someone without having a reason. A good one at that.

“Now, Adeline,” he started, lifting her head up to look at him in the eyes. The same eyes as her own. Almost like staring back at her own reflection. It was strange, “I do want to hear about this, however we don’t have much time. We need to dispose of this immediately.” she could hear the urgency edging in his voice, but he still held a level of stability. Adeline nodded, pressing her hands into the dirt to push her body back upright. He followed her over to Danny and thought for a moment, hand on his chin.

“Okay, I’ll have someone take care of this here in a second. I’ll call him.” Chrollo was speaking more to himself than to Adeline, pulling out his phone and dialing a number before letting it ring. She didn’t hear the other end pick up, but it was apparently instant, as Chrollo began speaking to the other man. He gave him their location and the situation at hand, even mentioning his daughter.

At first, this confused Adeline. She wasn’t his daughter. She was Danny’s daughter... her brows furrowed and her arms crossed over her chest. What was he talking about? Sure they had the same eyes and the same hair, and even the same nose now that she really looked at him. You had never told her anything about Chrollo being your father.

“Alright, he’ll be here shortly-” he started after hanging up.

“You called me your daughter..?” she knew it was rude to cut him off, but she couldn’t help it. She felt like she needed to know, felt as if she had the right to know. Chrollo turned his attention her, setting his phone back into his pocket.

“Yes. I did. Y/n never told you?” even through the monotone sound Adeline swore she could hear the hint of pain there. You told her Chrollo didn’t feel much, but when he did they were pretty strong emotions.

“No...” it was the only word she could think of to respond with. At first, she didn’t know how to feel. She didn’t blame you or anything, understanding that she was young and you must not have wanted to confuse her. You may have even planned to tell her now. Then the reason behind Danny’s outrage hit her like a train.

She gasped out loud, her facial expression giving her away. Chrollo’s own features formed into a visual of worry.

“What? What’s wrong?” almost as if it was his instinct. That gave her even more evidence that he was truly her father. Danny never worried about her, but any slight movement drove Chrollo to panic.

“How long until that guy gets here?”

“Already behind you baby~” a deep voice sounded from behind her. Adeline turned around but was met with a stomach instead of a head. Craning her neck up, she found an exceptionally tall man with tan skin and fluffy grey hair. He smiled down at her.

“So this is Adeline boss?” he was addressing Chrollo, who nodded in response.

“Yes, she’s just finding this out as well. Adeline, meet Uvogin.” he explained. Uvogin made a face down at the both of them.

“Wait, you’re saying y/n never told you Chrollo was your daddy?” he kneeled down to her level, she could see his level of confusion even better now. She shook her head.

“Honestly, I suspected considering that my appearance is much like that of his own. Especially in the eyes and the nose,” she turned to face Chrollo who was also watching her, “and I looked nothing like Dan either.” she explained, finding herself being rather analytical. It wasn’t unlike her, as she grew she came to terms with the fact that she enjoyed learning and finding out new things. You always told her that she was intelligent. Uvogin laughed though, standing back up all the way.

“Damn boss she even sounds like you. It’s adorable. Anyway, where do you want me to put this thing? I assume this is Danny?” Uvogin wrapped his hand around the corpse’s waist, throwing it over his shoulder. The sight made Adeline sick and she doubled over again, nearly throwing up. Chrollo was at her side in an instant, holding on to her to make sure she didn’t fall.

“Sorry babe, I forgot you’re not used to that.” Uvogin turned his head away in apology. Adeline raised her hand to signal that he was fine but didn’t turn around for another minute or so, Chrollo soothing her the whole time. She felt dizzy when she met Uvogin’s eyes. The little names her called her were of some comfort, considering this must have been Chrollo’s–her father’s–friend. 

“Well, I’ll just take it with me so you two can have your moment or whatever. Tell her everything.” Uvogin sent a finger gun Chrollo’s way and sprinted off, leaving the Chrollo and Adeline alone. She was felt slightly perturbed by Uvogin’s absences, it was so quick.

And tell her everything is just what Chrollo did.

Chrollo told her about how he made you leave in an effort to keep you safe. He told her about his background, about the troupe, about you. About how much he missed you. About how badly he wanted to see Adeline born but he couldn’t because he was too far out. Adeline didn’t interrupt with anything, though she still had so many questions, but he kept going. He must have wanted to enforce as much trust in her as he could. It was working.

“I’m sorry for not being there and I’m even more apologetic for driving your mother away, it was for her safety...” his eyes never left hers.

“I understand, and mom does too. She was just upset.” Adeline accepted this apology even though she felt like he shouldn’t even be apologizing. It wasn’t his fault. He was just trying to protect you the best way he could think of. Chrollo let out a breath she didn’t know he was holding.

“Now, please, explain to me why you killed Danny?” there was no filter. It made Adeline’s stomach churn at the thought, the feeling of the house key tearing through his skin. She took a deep breath.

“I think mom was going to explain everything to me,” her voice had become shaky. She sat on the ground and curled into herself to gain some comfort as Chrollo followed, an arm draping over her shoulders and keeping her close, “and I think Danny somehow found out... and got upset about it. He liked when I called him ‘daddy’ almost in a like sexual way...” she tried to explain without crying but the word was almost triggering. She hated the way he’d make her use it. He become irrationally upset with her if she called him dad instead of daddy. It was disgusting...

“And I don’t know why... I think he... he just...” she was desperately trying to think of her next words. What could she say next? How should this all go? Chrollo was patient with her the whole time, never getting upset with her or scoffing. He just listened. She was so confused on everything that had just happened and the fact that it all happened so quickly.

“I don’t know, all I remember was that mom said she was going to talk to me and then I went in my room for like 5 minutes and then I heard her screaming,” she sniffled, not able to hold back her tears again. Her head fell into her knees for a few minutes before coming back up to take a deep breath, “and a loud bang against the-the counter. Dan was yelling at her about something, I can’t remember. So I went down to see her and make sure he didn’t hit her like I thought he did, but he did. Chrollo he hurt her...” Adeline was full on sobbing again, feeling another round of bile ease it’s way into her mouth. Chrollo’s grip on her tightened and he rocked her, letting one of his hands rub her arm. She laid her head on his shoulder and he rested his chin on her temple.

“Is she okay now?”

“I don’t know. She told me to just go and get help but instead I got upset and threw the pan she was cooking with at him. Obviously he got mad and started chasing me, so I tried to defend myself as best I could and-”

“It’s okay, I understand. It’s alright...” he continued his motions, keeping her at bay from breaking.

“Do you think you can take me to y/n?” Chrollo asked after Adeline had calmed down. She nodded, standing again.

“Yeah, I wanna make sure she’s okay after all of that. He didn’t get to hurt her too bad that I knew of.” she wiped the tears away with her hand, searching for her jacket somewhere. She found it next to a bush along with her bloody house key. Picking both items up she led Chrollo home, hoping to find you there, okay and at the very least, resting.

[pbandjesse]

Well I contacted a cobbler and he was very nice but my clogs are not something he can fix because the sole is unusual. I will keep researching to see if I can fix them at least a little bit, but I might just have to replace them again. Sad. The man was very nice though! And that made me feel a little better about everything. I was feeling really anxious about contacting someone. 

Honestly today was a lot of anxiety and I dont even know why. I just feel weird today. I dont feel very good honestly. But I tried. 

I slept okay and I woke up without an alarm. But I felt very dizzy when I got up. So I just laid there for a few minutes. Scrolled on my phone for a while. But I got up eventually. I tried to feel okay but I just sat there kind of sad. 

I went and showered and that helped a bit. James asked me if I wanted breakfast but I didnt. I just wanted to be quiet. I washed my hair again. Got more of the dye out. Fingers are still getting stained blue but thats alright. I liked my outfit a lot today. And I sat with James while he put laundry away and had some of my apple cake from yesterday. 

It came out really good actually. I think next time I will mix the apples in as well, because the recipe has it in layers and that lead to a lot of bites with no apple at all. But the cake part is still really nice. Me and James talked about ways we could improve it for next time and why the orange juice that is usually in it gives it that sort of metallic taste it gets sometimes. Apparently its reacting with the baking powder. So we might try it with cream of tartar. Could be a fun experiment. 

I wanted to do something today. So once things were put away we went to canton to walk by the water. Just the other side this time. It was a nice day. I liked being there but it felt like James was rushing. I dont know why. We talked about maybe walking all the way to the target but my shoes were hurting the bottoms of my feet so once we finished the trail I asked if we could go back to the car and drive there instead. 

We drove up to target. Got some groceries. A few cleaning products. Because I feel like I have to do that every time I am at target. I got a silly little octopus keychain. It was a nice time all things considered.

We drove across the street and went to five guys. While I waited outside at a table I texted Alexi and she finally got back to me. We are having a training class on wednesday and then another possibly next week. So I am slightly employed again!  Still dont know when or if we are doing things in person but its something. And I always like a class. I am a little put off by some of the requirements (you cant multitask, you have to talk at least once? Sir I have anxiety!) but I hope its still good. 

I felt a little more positive after that. And our lunch was very good. I had a nice time with James even if he cant pull himself away from the news on his phone sometimes. As long as Im involved I dont mind to much. 

We headed home after that I laid in bed and watched videos while James played games and read his book in the other room. But it felt quick when it was time for him to leave for work. 

I sort of wanted to nap but I couldnt turn off my brain. And just ended up laying there for a while before I finally got up and tried to work on something. 

I wanted to add side panels to my fluffy sweatshirt and I am super proud of how it came out. I think the cream color looks super nice and its the same type of fabric. I may embroider the hem but for now I am jsut very please at the way the oversized panels came out. 

I also worked on some quilt stuff. Not a lot but some. I wandered around the apartment a bit. But I mostly quilted and was bored by my videos and felt weird. 

I had to stop sewing after a while because my needle got stuck in a large fold in the fabric and I had to spend way to long trying to yank it out and not only broke the needle, I slammed b wrost on the table and I have a sizeable lump on my forearm now. So that was enough of that for the night. 

I had frozen quesadillas for dinner. I played animal crossing. I watched nonsense. And I finally contacted a cobbler. 

I contacted one through email and he got back to me so fast. He was really nice and apologetic. But Im going to see what I can do with some flat sore replacements I got on ebay. But if it doesnt work its okay. I will be sad but at least I tried. 

I am going to go wash my face and wait for James to get home. I am feeling a little nauseous right now. But I hope I sleep well and things feel okay tomorrow. For you all as well. Goodnight everyone. 

[nadiineross]

chlodine band au

abandoned concept 

Already, Nadine feels as if she has retired. Though she has always enjoyed routine, this is something else entirely—monotony.

Every morning she wakes up at the exact same time, drinks the same coffee, rides the same bus to work. Lunch breaks, she takes alone. The street on which she works is designed to appeal to as many people as possible, so everything is generic as it is flashy. When she had first gotten here, she had devised a list of restaurants within a five minute walk which she would try, and she still uses it as a rotation. On Mondays she eats at the American-style diner, Tuesdays are for Indian food, Wednesdays, Mexican, and so on and so forth.

Work is uninspiring and unfulfilling. Head of security in the city’s biggest music hall. The paperwork is dull and the patrols even more so. The only time she feels remotely close to who she was before Shoreline collapsed is when she’s working out at the gym. Even then, it is a poor substitute.

Routine. Simple, straightforward.

Eventually, she might let go of her resentment and learn to be grateful for the fifteen years she had with Shoreline. Now, however, she can’t help but still be bitter, even two years after it had slipped from her fingers. Her father’s doing; he had grown weak and sentimental, and dissolved the company before she could even think to step in for him. He had gone as far as to forbid her from that career and she was nothing if not dutiful as a soldier and as a daughter, even if it angered her to be so.

She hasn’t spoken to him since. She had moved away so she wouldn’t be tempted to continue their never-ending argument, and found her mind-numbing, soul-sucking job working as a cockblock to crowds of groupies when the next big thing deigned to tour in her coastal city.

She had become robotic. She felt as if she were wasting her life away, doing nothing. Though she was not retired according to the official definition of the word, she had been retired from her career as a soldier and, as someone who had cobbled their entire identity around being one, it was as good as true. Retired at 36.

These are the thoughts that plague her every waking moment. It’s not like the job requires of her more than 4 braincells. She has never been good with idle time.

On top of all that, there is a big concert tonight and will be followed by one more the following night. This, she has been dreading in the months that preceded it. The band is native to the city and, no matter what Nadine thinks of them, they are successful enough for the city to treat them as if they were its crown jewels. They aren’t even a real band—there are only two of them. How they coerced anyone to like them with a name like “Drake’s Fortune,” she will never know.

Still, she doesn’t work at The Rolling Stones, isn’t paid to opine, so she keeps it all to herself and does her job: a circuit of the building, double and triple-checking the locks on all the doors, and checking in on all the guards on duty tonight via radio.

As head of security, she doesn’t have a concrete post for the night. It’s more of a rotation, ensuring the gears are in place and well-oiled, at that. Generally, with big concerts like this, she tries to linger near the backstage to stop any zealous fans her subordinates can’t handle on their own. It hasn’t been that bad tonight and even she will admit the music isn’t terrible. But, of course, the band members themselves sound smarmy and obnoxious. From the hall, she hears the lead, Nathan, try to woo the crowd with his boyish charm and she scoffs at it. Sam the drummer and backup singer tags along and she fears she might roll her eyes so hard they become permanently affixed to the back of her head.

Probably, she has just lost her tolerance for people who are unnecessarily loud about how happy they are with their careers. The irony doesn’t escape her, doing what she does. Every other week, a new band or singer parades through town to laugh and scream and flaunt themselves on a stage in fromt of thousands. And she had been tasked with making sure they make it to the next city intact enough to do it all over again.

She misses the rest of the show, called to the entrance, and she is thankful to leave behind the sounds of the brothers Drake. After that, she has to go help out at the backdoor which takes almost an hour to handle. The thick of the crowd has mostly dissipated by the time the clock hits 12:30am and none of the band members had appeared—thank god for that.

It is another hour before she’s finally finished with all her responsibilities. She immediately takes off her uniform top and ties it around her waist, sweat-stained as it is. She has a second tank top and a spare shirt in her office to change into.

It’s on the way back there that she notices she’s lost the only personal affect she takes to work: a bracelet her mother had gifted her at the airport before she’d left for this city. Immediately, she feels a headache coming on.

If her mother found out, she’d be delivered from an early retirement to an early grave.

Bordering on nauseous, she rushes to retrace her steps: backstage, entrance, backdoor. As she’d expected, she comes up empty. Really, what are the odds?

Sighing, she turns back to the backdoor and begins to unlock it. It’s then when it swings open from the inside; Nadine has to jerk back to avoid getting slammed in the face. A woman comes stumbling out, cursing as she misses the step down into the back alley. She’s in a red shirt, tight and cut just above her bellybutton, and a pair of what looks to Nadine like fashionable, upscale cargo pants. In her hand, she holds a phone which she had obviously been watching instead of her step.

Nadine scowls. “Hey, watch it.”

The woman spins around, a look of surprise flashing across her face. “Sorry.” Then, she squints at Nadine, under the neon lights, and her look of remorse fades into curiosity, and mischief, and an infuriating arrogance. “Hey there.”

Nadine only glares and makes for the door. The woman raises an eyebrow and steps in her way.

“I’m not sure you’re allowed back there, love,” the woman drawls, leaning too close into Nadine’s personal space. Ordinarily, Nadine would’ve put this woman in her place instantly, but the confidence and her apparent access to the backdoor leads her to believe she might be with the Drakes in some capacity. She isn’t interested in losing her job over this. “But I’ll be happy to show you to where you are very much welcome.”

Oh, she thinks Nadine is a groupie. She closes her eyes and tries not to fly off the handle. “Christ, I don’t know who you are but I work here and I’m not in the mood for this.”

To her credit, the woman takes it in stride. She sticks her hand out. “Chloe Frazer, touring member. I play bass.”

Nadine stares at her hand. Stares at the wrist attached to her hand. Stares at the bracelet looped around the wrist.

Slowly, Chloe’s smile fades and she drops her hand. “Look, are you lost?”

“Am I— I’m the head of fucking security,” Nadine barks out, near trembling with rage. “And you’re wearing my fucking bracelet, and you’re in my fucking way, and you’re wearing my fucking bracelet!”

Chloe steps back at the sheer outrage in Nadine’s voice.

“Well?!” Nadine thunders.

Sheepishly, Chloe takes the bracelet off and holds it out to Nadine— she snatches it back and tightens it hard enough to maybe cut off circulation.

Chloe clears her throat. “Hey, uh, I found it. I was going to bring it to lost and found.”

Nadine scowls. “Funny, I’ve worked here for ages and I’ve never heard of the back alley lost and found. Must’ve slipped my notice.”

“Actually, the thing is, I was going to make a call first—”

“Save it.”

And Nadine wrenches the door open and slams it shut behind her, and storms her way through the building with a glower so biting she thinks she spots Nathan Drake ducking behind a crate to get out of her way. As it should be.

note: so basically im incapable of giving either of them occupations that arent treasure hunting so it wouldve turned out chloes an eccentric well off treasure hunter who also plays bass sometimes for her friends cos she’s a hot girl and nadine, unhappy w her career, is offered a job by chloe (see: tll) but this is only after nadine n chloe hv been dating for a while:) i dont like this enough to continue it but here ya go

[devnny]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

yall im fuck im UFUC im N 💞💗😭💕💖

ITS DEVI LOVING HOURS EVERYBUDDY.....

The twin blades of some well-used craft scissors gleamed as much as they could with the speckles of paint and glue that clung to their surface, as Johnny lifted them up to the extended section of hair above his forehead. His free hand plucked up the pointed tip of the tuft and stretched the hair out fully, then clipped it short with one snip of the scissors. He copied the motion with his other ‘antennae’, and watched the black tendrils fall to the kitchen floor. Poo, he’d need to sweep this up. Devi didn’t accept messy floors the way he did.

His fist gripped another patch of his hair and he sheared away chunks of it at random lengths, as he always did. Johnny had decided after Devi complained that it was his ‘mop’ of messy hair that had disturbed her from her sleep a couple of days ago, that it would need to be cut. It was long overdue, anyway. He hadn’t given himself a haircut since he went partially bald on his return from Hell.

The harsh ring of Devi’s phone interrupted his trimming, and he gave it an aggravated scowl. The phone always seemed to go off when Devi was sleeping – people are so inconsiderate. He set the scissors down on the counter and moved to answer the phone in her place.

Johnny plunked the phone off its rest, and placed it to his ear. Before he could even say ‘hello’, a man’s voice burst to life on the other end.

“DEVI!” The man said in a lively voice. “Devi, baby, why you not call me, hm? You want me to be dead, yes? You like to worry me?”

Johnny’s frown returned with a vengeance.

“Uh.” He grunted out, trying to gather an articulate thing to say from the strings of suspicious words in his head. The man on the other end went quiet a moment, realizing the person he was speaking to was likely not Devi.

“Who is this?” He asked accusingly.

“This is Johnny.” Johnny replied in an irritated tone.

“What—why are you answering her phone, ‘Johnny’-man? WHERE is Devi!?”

Johnny looked at the earpiece with a snarl, then set it back against his head.

“Devi is sleeping. And I live here.” He wanted to add ‘temporarily’, but didn’t feel like this caller needed to know that much. There was an aghast gasp in reply.

“PUT HER ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW.” The man demanded.

“She’s sleeping—who are you to demand her attention?” Johnny glowered resentfully.

“I am her FATHER.”

Johnny’s mouth disappeared, and he stared wide-eyed at the phone. Her father? He had forgotten all about the fact that most people… have families. He even knew that Devi had a dad; she mentioned him off-handedly a few times when they would talk at the bookstore. But she hadn’t mention him again the whole time he had lived here! He couldn’t be blamed for forgetting the possibility that her family would call for her, could he?

“Oh.” He replied, his voice back to a casual level. “Uh, yes. Okay. I will go get her.”

He set the phone down on the kitchen table and hurried to Devi’s room. With a nervous swallow, he turned the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, made his way inside. Johnny crouched slightly at the side of her bed, watching her sleep for a moment with a guilty expression. He hated to wake her if she needed to rest, especially when he’d already interrupted her sleep once this week.

One of his fingers popped out of his fist to poke at her shoulder a few times.

“Devi, Devi… Devi wake up.” He whispered. “Um, please.”

Her body shifted a little, and she groggily opened one eye to squint at him.

“Nny…” She croaked. “What?”

Johnny looked to the side nervously.

“Your dad is on the phone for you.”

Devi’s eyes opened immediately, and her mouth flattened in mild panic.

“WHAT?” She gasped as she sat up. “He—oh my God, you didn’t answer, did you?”

What a stupid question, she immediately thought, since obviously Johnny would have had to in order to know her father had called. Johnny’s impish smile confirmed that fear, and she groaned in distress before flinging the covers off and rushing to the phone.

--

Devi held her face in her hands on the couch, her hair sticking out every which way from sleep.

“Why, why, whyyy did you tell him you lived here…” She lamented in overexaggerated anguish, and Johnny pouted shamefully beside her.

“GOD.” Her hands shot down limply, and she frowned at the wall. She hadn’t gotten chewed out like that since she was a teenager – well, as ‘chewed out’ as she could get with her dad being as soft as he was. He was never one for discipline and yelling; his scolding was more akin to him being over-protective, and ranting about if she was being safe, and guilting her for hiding things from him.

Devi sighed tiredly; at least she had managed to convince him that Johnny was just a temporary roommate, a friend down on his luck with nowhere to go. That was true, at least, if not a major understatement.

“Whatever. I’m going back to bed.” She paused. “…Did you cut your hair?”

--

SOME TIME AFTER:

She was certain now that Meat’s plans were to push Johnny incessantly toward the desire for her touch – there was just no way it could be anything else. After a week or two with more observation, Devi had awoken to find Johnny in her bed a few more times; never as tightly cuddled against her as the first instance, but curled up in a little paranoid ball near her all the same.

Each time he would express having nodded off only to be met with gruesome figments of his own imagination – or maybe not of his own imagination, really. She had ‘caught’ him bundling up beside her the last time, but had remained quiet, her stare undetected by the wary maniac. Devi was angry with him, to some degree, for allowing this routine to continue so blindly. Couldn’t he see what Meat was pressuring him into doing? With all his lamenting about how touch-repulsed he was, and how he loathed the Reverend for trying to force him to partake in it, he didn’t notice that he was being coerced to find comfort in the spot beside her?

But mostly, she was angry with herself.

Devi was furious with herself every time she stopped to think about how Johnny’s close proximity didn’t bother her in the slightest. She hated that the shift of her mattress caused by his knees while he crawled along her comforter only filled her with the mild irritation of being woken up, and not panic-stricken dread that he was approaching her supposed-sleeping form. She hated that him laying only a foot away from her sparked not a single concern in her entire being, and that her mind could easily drift back to sleep while he rested beside her, if she let it.

She completely trusted, whether it was wise or not, that he would do nothing nefarious to her, murder or otherwise, while she was defenseless – and it was completely MORONIC.

This was a man known to be unhinged when emotionally compromised, and there he was, in her bed, actively trying ease his burdened psyche, and still her brain sent her body no distress signals. No natural reflex to run from him, or lash out and demand he get the Hell away from her. She had never allowed any man to live with her, and she certainly had never let anyone sleep in her bed. And yet Johnny had worked his way so casually into both situations, with neither Devi nor himself intent on this being the outcome.

It made her near-nauseous with anger. Anger at her own emotions, for letting someone get this close.

Emotional softness, physical tenderness, codependence, domesticity – all were things Devi had eagerly sworn off of around the time of her minor mental deterioration during and after her bout with Sickness… and Johnny.

The reminder made her want to rip her hair out in frustration. Johnny was one of the leading factors in her acceptance that she would never share her life with anyone, and yet she was currently doing just that, with him! It was maddening!

This had to stop, she decided. She needed to pull away, build her boundaries again.

But she only remembered that pledge when she would fall into a comfortable moment with him – each time their interactions got too playful, or too warm – and it scorched her insides that she only noticed after it was already happening. Devi would stop, readjust, cut the mood short, and reel it in to a more respectable level, but that just left the previous lightheartedness floating around aimlessly in the air with nowhere to go, and left Johnny wondering what he’d done to screw up the conversation this time.

AND TONIGHT:

The evening had been lovely so far – Johnny thought so, anyway. Devi had given him a small painting lesson at his request, and it was fun. Part of his arm seemed to recognize the feeling of a brush in his grasp, and after Devi corrected the way he held it, the movements felt almost natural. His artistic skill was still not on par with his old paintings, but painting anything at this point was thrilling.

Devi kept her distance, mentoring from afar, but her delight showed through the more Johnny went on. She commented on his subject – a detached rabbit head – with a morbid snicker, and Johnny joked that he could call it a self-portrait. Devi warned him, with a teasing tone, to be wary of self-portraits.

Then she brought a hand up to his chin, and thumbed away a speck of black paint that had managed to find its way onto his face. Johnny felt his chest flutter as she did, but the delight was short-lived. With twisting heartache, he watched her pupils tense in realization, and her fingers immediately whipped away from him, leaving her arm tense at her side instead. He tried to hold in his dejected frown, but thought he must not have done a good enough job, as Devi’s mouth smeared into an uncomfortable scowl as she turned away from him.

Dammit! What had he done now? No matter how hard he thought about it, every time Devi grew distant these days, he couldn’t decipher which of his actions had upset her.

“Devi—” He said hurriedly, seeing her make a move for the doorway. “Devi, wait, what’s wrong?”

Devi stopped abruptly and winced her eyes at the floor before turning to face him again.

“Nothing is wrong, Nny.” She stated flatly. “I’m just going to get a drink.”

“That’s not what I’m… referring to!” He pressed, and walked closer to her. “You’ve been acting so, eh… strange, lately…”

“Strange?” Devi glared at him, and he flinched, regretting his phrasing.

“I don’t mean like, in a BAD way! It’s just that… well…” Johnny scuffed his boot on the floor and sighed. He didn’t like commenting about her behavior, he would rather just get to the root of the problem, which was usually himself.

“Devi what did I do to upset you?”

“Nothing. I’m not upset.”

“But you—urgh.” Johnny groaned. “We were just—talking, laughing, a second ago! And then, you—”

Devi scoffed in annoyance, cutting him off.

“I’m not upset, just drop it.” She spoke tightly, and walked out of the room before he could have a chance to refute her. Johnny’s mouth squirmed uncomfortably.

He wouldn’t ever brag about his prowess in interacting with other human beings, but he was pretty damn confident that he knew Devi, at least. And she definitely was upset. It was very strange for Devi to be unhappy with him and not tell him loudly and pointedly why. Unable to let his worries go, he followed her to the kitchen, catching her just as she was reentering the living room.

“Devi, just tell me, please! I don’t care if it’s some little, miniscule thing!” Johnny insisted, wondering if maybe it was so seemingly-insignificant that she felt embarrassed to bring it up. “I just don’t want to upset you, but I can’t avoid doing whatever it is unless you tell me!”

Devi’s scowl returned, and her head felt hot in response to his defiance. That idiot had no idea what he was asking.

“I’m NOT upset!” She insisted again, angrier this time.

“Yes you are!” Johnny frowned back at her.

“Well NOW I am, because you’re annoying!” Devi growled and moved to walk around him. Johnny reacted by stepping in front of her, a move that surprised them both, and only served to enrage Devi further.

“Devi, please!” He urged her. “PLEASE, tell me what I’m doing wrong! I just want us to be friends again, like before…!”

His words made her face hot, and she barred her teeth at him.

“Well I DON’T!” Devi leaned into his face to yell at him before rearing away again. “I don’t want to be friends – I don’t even want to like you! I don’t want to like ANYONE!”

With a loud grunt, she stormed past him, but couldn’t keep the rest of her rant from spilling out of her mouth.

“You moron, don’t you GET IT? You don’t want to ‘upset’ me—I don’t care! I don’t fucking care!! There is no relationship here, there is no blossoming friendship or whatever-the-fuck! You CAN’T upset me like… like we’re so CLOSE.” She seethed, and Johnny shrunk back in hurt confusion.

Devi took a step toward him and continued her tirade relentlessly.

“I’m not ‘close’ with anyone, and I’m never going to be! All my attempts in my entire life to share myself with another person have ended in complete fucking catastrophe! I am never going to make the mistake of TRUSTING someone again. You don’t want to upset me? Then leave me the HELL ALONE! I’m better off that way!”

Devi took in a few haggard breaths, and watched Johnny’s wounded expression with a venomous stare. She hated him so much for doing this to her – for putting her in this situation. He couldn’t just leave it be, could he? Couldn’t drop the topic when she told him to.

All of this was his fault anyway! His for being enjoyable; his fault for tricking her, again, into thinking of him as someone worth trusting. Well, he wasn’t! She knew that, and it was absolutely absurd to think otherwise! Devi outright refused to leave herself open to being victimized again; she needed to make that very clear.

“I can’t ever have companionship, and that’s YOUR FUCKING FAULT!” Her expression pained through her anger, and she threw an accusing finger in his direction.

“You and every other fucking asshole that somehow persuaded my stupid ass into giving them a chance! I have absolutely ZERO trust in other people because of what you did to me! I’m never letting anyone get that close again, I’m never going to give someone enough room to hurt me—I’m not going to let you DO THAT TO ME AGAIN, NNY!”

Her scream trailed out on the last thread of air in her lungs, and she stopped again to pant raggedly for a moment. Johnny stared at her with his wrists cross meekly, eyes wide in horrified sadness.

“Devi…” He whispered. For a moment, Devi thought the devastation in his voice was for himself, until she felt a sensation on her jaw and instinctively went to rub it away.

It was only then did she recognize that the feeling was wet, and looked to the base of her palm in shock to see the smudged remains of a tear there.

Her stomach sank in realization.

She cried? Cried one single, shitty little tear? Her lips trembled into a miserable sneer. Oh, Hell no. She was not about to cry over this, and definitely not in front of someone else, especially not Johnny. Devi could feel the weight of another tear brimming on her eyelashes, and she immediately turned and retreated to her room.

Johnny reached a hand out, but couldn’t say anything before the door shut. His mouth closed into a near-invisible line, and his posture sagged pitifully. With a sigh, his head dropped as low as his shoulders.

What had he done? Why had he tried to argue the point with her? It wasn’t like he had any right to her thoughts or feelings. If she didn’t want to share what was distressing her, she didn’t have to. But he did push her, and he must have pushed her too far this time, enough to make her… cry.

His innards churned in pulsating rhythm with the painful goosebumps on his arms and back, and he thought that he might actually be ill, which would be very inopportune right now, since the apartment’s only bathroom was currently inaccessible.

“You should go check on her, Johnny.” A voice whispered in the back of his head, and Johnny couldn’t decipher if it was his own, or Meat’s.

“No.” He answered. “She’s… crying. She wants to be alone.”

“You would let her cry alone? After she held you as you wept on her?”

Johnny stared at the floor, a new ripple of guilt cascading over his already aching skin.

It was true that Devi was his emotional crutch, but he needed one. Devi didn’t. She was self-sufficient, she was stronger than he was. She could easily comfort herself when she needed it, he assumed… but he now wasn’t sure. What if she could, but it would be nice to have someone there to ease her pain? Would she even want to be comforted by the person responsible for the hurt she was feeling, though?

He shuddered out a nervous exhale, and began inching toward her door. The feeling in his stomach was so insistent that he go to her, even if she just responded with more yelling and hurling anything on hand at his head. If there was even one sliver of an iota that Devi needed him, he wanted her to know he was readily available to do whatever it took to console her.

--

Devi stood over her sink, blotting away at the persistent wetness that continued to drip past her eyelids. The wad of tissues in her hand has been doubled twice, and was almost soaked through.

“Stop… fucking crying!” She hissed a whisper at herself, glaring at the pinkish tinge in the whites of her eyes from the reflection that greeted her in the mirror. She hated crying; it was such a pointless expulsion of emotion, in her opinion. It was proof that her screws had come undone too far, and all the things that she kept bolted up inside where seeping through the cracks. Repulsive.

That’s what she needed to do – she needed to keep the screws in. She needed to wind them back up as tight as they would go, and make sure all this weepy, sappy shit stayed securely locked away, where it belonged. Devi moved her attention from the faucet back to the mirror of the medicine cabinet, and frowned despondently at her tired, sad eyes.

God, she hadn’t cried in such a long time. Not since her first ordeal with Johnny, actually.

The memory of her panic returned to her briefly; her back against the door of her old apartment, her voice shaking as she tried to speak to the police over the phone, coming down from the adrenaline as she hung up, and the realization that the man she had grown to adore had just tried to kill her. That gut-wrenching devastation that there would be no more days spent talking with him, and that their relationship would not only not be progressing further, but that their relationship in its entirety was gone.

She had cried so hard, there against her door, sitting with her nose to her knees, miserable and deflated, trying as best she could to separate the meek, cynical dork she cared so much about from the crazed, wild-looking man that had intended to stab her to death.

Another line of tears filled the bottom lid of her eyes, and she trembled out another scowl to combat the pain. It was getting difficult to keep her fire going, and that startled her. Her anger was all she had to shield herself from her other feelings. Feelings like sadness, or fear.

Devi’s lips twitched weakly as they fell into a small frown, and she left the sink to sit on her bed.

That’s what this all boiled down to – this was because she was afraid. Vulnerability was something that she no longer trusted, and she had grown so comfortable in the idea that she had expelled the need for it out of her body like the pus from an offensive little zit. She didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that if she wasn’t uneasy with Johnny being in her space, that meant that she wasn’t the independent, self-reliant person she believed she was, and that she was still unfortunately receptive to her body’s craving for emotional and physical intimacy.

She lifted her tissue lump up to her face again, and smudged away another unyielding droplet.

The door creaked open as she did, and Devi tensed slightly at the sudden interruption. She was grateful that her back was to the door, and made no move to look behind her. It wasn’t like there was any need to guess who was there.

Johnny sulked at her weak form as he hovered near the doorframe. Her figure looked so small and un-Devi-like, all slack and closed-in like that. He could tell from the slight movements of her shoulder and what minimal view of her hands that he had, that she was blotting her eyes, and another strong resurgence of guilt overcame him.

He had never seen Devi cry. He was confident that he must have brought her to tears in the past, long ago, when he betrayed her confidence in him the way he had, but he had never had to see it firsthand. Johnny felt smothering fear at having to face the consequences for his callous badgering, but still urged himself to persist, even if he desperately didn’t want the memory of her tear-stained face.

He left the safety of the door’s threshold and walked quietly to the side of Devi’s bed. Devi turned her face further away from him as he stopped at her side, and Johnny pouted more. He almost wished that she would just yell at him, curse at him or beat him with her fists or some blunt object – that would be easier to bear than her tormenting silence. Unsure of what to say or do, he took a seat beside her on the mattress, and sat with his hands clasped between his legs.

Devi glanced at him without offering him a view of her face, and smiled weakly with an inaudible sigh of a laugh. He was always so cautious with her. She appreciated that he offered her full sovereignty of her space, unless he was otherwise invited into it – the incident of waking her up as a sobbing mess withheld, of course. Johnny had been like that from the start; keeping his distance, either out of fear or respect for her. It was what had made her so comfortable around him to begin with.

She lowered her head again, shaking it softly with a sigh. Johnny turned his attention to her abruptly, afraid that he’d upset her further with his presence, but from what he could see, her demeanor hadn’t changed.

He desperately wanted to apologize, to tell her that he was sorry for pushing her into talking to him, that he was selfish for demanding it, and more importantly than anything, that he was so deeply sorry for damaging her trust the way he had, but no matter how he tried, the words clogged inside his throat, unable to arrange themselves in a presentable, meaningful fashion.

“Y’know what’s stupid, Nny?” Devi spoke suddenly, jolting Johnny away from his thoughts of jumbled apologies. He stared at her eyes, but they were focused on the floor, not him.

“…Hm?” He replied nervously, afraid to say more. Devi exhaled slowly before she continued.

“I’ve dated… a lot of shitty guys.” She started. “I mean, fuck, one of them was literally shitty. Shit all over himself during dinner. I told you about him, I think. Another guy that I met at a club or whatever, in college, burst into fucking flames after things went south. It’s always been some stupid crap like that.”

She moved the heels of her shoes off of the bed’s metal side railing and set them on the floor, crossing her arms over her lap.

“The first guy I ever dated was in high school, and he fucking crashed his car trying to get me to screw him, and we were stuck in there for like twelve hours before someone found us. The last one was a zombie. An actual, brain-eating, walking dead, zombie.”

Devi stared blankly at the floor while she spoke, and Johnny shifted uncomfortably beside her.

“And even with all of those idiots tallied, even with all the garbage I’d dealt with at that point, nothing, and I mean nothing, hurt me… the way you did, when you turned like that.” She kept the confession quiet. Johnny’s mouth parted slightly as he watched her with wide, remorseful eyes.

“I was so gutted.” Devi added, lifting her shoulders up more. “It completely tore me up inside, that you would do that to me. You, the guy I thought… I don’t know—I liked you. I really liked you. I thought my crappy dates were all over with by the time we got back to your house and you still hadn’t even tried to allude to wanting things to get… physical.”

She paused for a moment.

“I think you might’ve broke my heart, Nny.”

Johnny’s eyes, long since centered on her carpet, bent up painfully the more she talked. His eyebrows arched downward fully at her last comment, and the guilt in his chest reached new heights, threatening to release itself in the form of tears. He sucked in a whimpering breath, but again couldn’t say anything before Devi resumed talking.

“And… you know what’s, even stupider?” She asked him again, with a downtrodden laugh in the back of her throat. Johnny adjusted his leg, and moved his palms to rest flat on the sheets, too anxious to respond otherwise.

“After all of that, after everything we’ve been through – with the attempted murder, and then me accidentally killing you, and… and you giving me a head-parasite, and you trying to murder me again, and then… all the fighting and screaming, and failing plans to help you regain control of your brain, and ALL of the other stupid shit that got us to this point,” Devi hesitated, then lifted her arm, and set her hand over his.

“…I still like you best.” She finished with a small smile, and gave his hand a squeeze. Johnny’s eyes popped back open to their normal round shape, and he stared at her in shock.

He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, he thought, but his doubt was distracted by Devi’s hand kneading against the back of his own. He stared down at where they were connected, and couldn’t believe that after all the things she had just told him, that she would extend such a tender offer. With a nervous hike of his shoulders, he flipped his hand around, and closed his fingers around hers as she did the same.

Johnny could see the slight curve of her mouth, and smiled hesitantly himself.

It felt so wonderful, her palm against his. He had been so worried that her explosive rant less than fifteen minutes prior had marked a definitive end to any pleasant interactions between them, let alone any touching. The flexing of Devi’s digits against the side of his hand soothed his remaining worries, and he tried to mimic the massaging movements with the tips of his fingers as best he could.

Devi surprised him even further when she made a quick scoot closer, and gingerly rested her head against his shoulder. Johnny thought his entire skeleton had jumped out of his body at the sudden contact of her cheek against him, but after a quick breath and a few erratic heart palpitations, he was assured that no part of his physical form had blown off.

He realized slowly, as Devi’s thumb dragged hypnotically across his skin, how symbolic the gesture was. After all of her admissions settled with him, Johnny came to the tentative conclusion that all of her gnashing and belligerent comments previously were just a mask, made to cover what she didn’t want seen by others. Like the claws of a wounded animal, swinging and scratching to ward off this next potential predator, in hopes of surviving the injuries already sustained, her words shot out like a defense mechanism, sharp and erratic from fear.

Fear because… she did trust him.

It excited him through his disbelief to imagine that Devi would, genuinely, want to share herself with him again, unprotected by barriers built from cruel words or standoffish behavior. Johnny wanted more desperately than ever to ease her concerns, and offer himself as the comfort she needed, just as she offered herself to him, begrudgingly or not.

Devi hummed a long sigh through her nose, and Johnny’s eyes drifted to watch her, though his only view of her was her hair. A long, easy smile grew across his face, and whether from lack of judgement or eagerness to reciprocate, tilted his head, and rested his ear on her crown. Devi only replied with another sigh and slight shift of her body.

This was absolutely the stupidest thing she’s ever done, she admitted to herself without reservation. Just as bewildered as Johnny was, Devi too couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what sense it made to like Johnny best out of every dipshit she’d ever taken a liking to. Sure there was more common interests between the two of them than most of her prospective partners, and maybe their personalities bounced off of each other’s better than hers did with most other people, but it was still ridiculous.

He was a dramatic, overly-sensitive, insecure, clingy, lit powder keg full of violence and destruction – what could outweigh that? Did she have some pitiful hope that the Johnny she ‘knew’ was inside the jumbled-up mess of a man that the wall-thing left behind, or, was it because of how eagerly he tried to please her and obey her instructions despite every atom in his body pulling him in the opposite direction? She was too drained to even try to debate it.

Johnny turned his face against her hair slightly to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Devi.” He said softly, remorse evident despite the contentment in his voice. “I would never want to… drive you to tears. You’re so wonderful.”

A quiet, airy laugh burst past her lips, and Devi hid her face further into his shirt while she finished with a snicker. He was so embarrassing.

They stayed perched on the end of her bed for a few minutes longer, resting in the same position while Devi gathered herself. She took as much comfort as she could from the grip of his hand as it cradled hers, and from the timid, hesitant nuzzling of his cheekbone on the top of her head, which might have just been the result of two bodies breathing together and not anything decisive on his part. She almost hoped it wasn’t intentional, because the idea of being cuddled was too sappy for words.

That thought pushed her to get up, and she waved her hands flippantly with a blush on her cheeks, palming and brushing away any remaining dampness under her eyes.

“Okay—okay, enough of that…!” Devi spoke with a laugh in reference to her tearful outburst, looking off awkwardly as she did.

Johnny stayed seated, watching her regain her composure with an adoring smile. He clasped his hands in his lap again, reveling in the warm, buzzy feeling that had replaced the nervous knots in his stomach; she was so charming, and sweet, and she liked him, still! Nothing on Earth could make him happier!

Devi listed her irises back to him, trying to save face in the wake of her embarrassingly vulnerable moment.

“You want to, um, watch a movie?” Her arms crossed awkwardly. “Maybe? Heh—or, something?”

Johnny nodded with a wide smile and an eager “Okay!”, then popped up into a standing position in front of her. Devi sputtered out another embarrassed laugh from the shine in his stare, and started shoving him toward the living room.

“Go, go—shut up, don’t laugh!” The light tone of her voice betrayed her demanding words, and Johnny gagged back giggles the entire way to the couch.

--

NEXT.

[chasing-rabbits]

Pet Peeves.

One thing lately that has really been ticking me off about meat eaters. Especially the advocates of the pro carnivore diet, is consistently being told meat would cure all my ‘problems’. When I inform these idiots that I am badly allergic to dairy and intolerant to meat. They just say have you tried raw milk...its like dude im not intolerant to lactose its also not the process of it being pasteurised. I am physically allergic to the proteins in milk. No way of processing or not processing it will make me not allergic to it. It is wild and more to the point why would I risk it? Just earlier this month my partner got me a smoothie no yoghurt. I was suspicious honestly I am ALWAYS pretty OTT when it comes to dairy and if its a place I am not entirely confident in their ability to not mix it up. I dipped my finger in it twice as my partner could not tell. i had a tiny little bit of it to test. It tasted kinda creamy and thicker than I thought it should be but it has been so long since I’ve touched dairy I wasn’t completely sure because mango anyways can thicken a smoothie really well.  But I was kinda suspicious there was yoghurt in it. Not moments later my breathing slowly got more laboured and i felt a little dizzy. Now because I only had such a small amount I did not need medical attention. I breathed heavy and laboured a bit like an asthmatic might when wheezy but luckily a couple hours later I returned to some what normal. I mean I had bad bloating and stomach pains for a day or two afterwards. But at least my body did not go into full anaphylaxis.  As for the meat issue people think meat intolerances are completely made up. My mum has one and I met a friend of a friend once and older lady. She also had issues with meat she said she thought it was the chemicals in the meat but who really knows. She had the same symptoms as me and my mum.  Meat makes me feel nauseous and bloat up. My mum gets it worse than me she looks pregnant almost especially with certain meats over others like beef.  These people think they are qualified doctors and are potentially giving out harmful advice to others not only causing more animals to die but possibly human lives too.  You know what their response to me was? Oh it is because you ate factory farmed meat pure grass fed beef is so much better. I’m like dude i live next to a farm I saw the cows outside my window mooing everyday along with the sheep. And the chickens who got into our paddock regularly years ago. There was a local farm shop I’ve had the dead animals from there before I still got sick as can be. I mean regardless of health I would not be able to eat a sentient being. I was vegetarian for awhile before going vegan after I was educated via Earthlings about eggs and dairy I mean I was allergic but like..it went undiagnosed for a long time and my reactions got worse and worse over time but I actually ended up helping myself without realising it.  I didn’t want to be sick and experience the symptoms doctors didnt correctly diagnose years ago as dairy allergy so I basically didnt eat much at all I guess out of almost fear of eating and being sick. So it did prevent me noticing the allergy until I went to university and was vegetarian so naturally ended up eating more dairy than back home and got real sick. Then I realised and just recently a dietician confirmed from birth I had a milk protein allergy that was missed. Forget about the heinous ethical and moral issues with eating meat. This advice KILLS. In their hatred against vegans they forget people out there have allergies REAL killer allergies and providing this false uneducated information to people is dangerous in the same way thinking its funny to prank the vegan with dairy in their food is life threatening.  It is why I always get OTT about confirming there is no dairy in my food more than anything else.  I worry people hear the word vegan or notice i am ordering vegan food and think right that dairy allergy isn’t real or they won’t take proper precautions to make sure no contamination happens. It wouldn’t be the first time someones done this no doubt and won’t be the last. 

[harrieatthemet]

Wanted

oh yes im back and to kick it off, yes, it’s ANGSTY!!!!! thx to my anon, hope I did it justice <3

It feels so good to be wanted.

It feels even better to be held at night, falling asleep with an arm lazily draped over your waist. Waking up to muffled breathing, hair vehemently scattered over the pillow case beside your own. His breathing is rugged, bordering on a snore, as his eyelashes flutter every so often. The bedroom is stuffy, the sheets are sticking to the exposed skin on your body. Having him pressed so closely against you doesn’t make it much better, and in fact, it just makes the room feel all the more muggy. But you don’t move him, you don’t move because it feels so good to be wanted. 

The feeling withstands the goodbyes, and how he gently locks his grip around your waist so you can’t move from your spot on the bed. You have to go, you can’t stay here. He knows that. He makes it hard to leave as you shimmy each leg back into their rightful place within your jeans, gracing the back of your neck with airy butterfly kisses. It feels so good to be wanted. 

But the feeling dissipates upon the buzz of your phone, which is faced down on the nightstand, resting just beside your keys and wallet. It buzzes once, then twice, a third and fourth time. The seventh time has knots getting tighter and tighter in your stomach, because you know why it’s buzzing that much. You know who is making it buzz that much. 

“Need to get that?” He asks, his eyes rife with sleep and his voice still groggy.

“No,” you answer flatly, “just have t’go.”

It must’ve been the fiftieth ‘I’m sorry’ text to make its way to your messages. The texts started rolling in after the calls were sent to voicemail. The calls, the hundreds upon hundreds of calls, with voicemails that always followed. You don’t know what had gotten you this angry. You can’t remember why you were so upset, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the route of the issue. But you knew you were fuming, and that was enough of a reason to screen the calls and leave the messages unread. 

Phone calls and text messages are about as far as Harry could get, for now. Being so far away comes with a variety of disadvantages, and this seemed to be one of them. Leaving for a three week trip after what had the potential to be categorized as, perhaps, one of the very worst arguments the two of you had ever had didn’t seem to be one of his better ideas. Of course, it took him about two weeks to figure that out. It took him two weeks of not hearing from you, seeing you, just having the opportunity to hear you talk, to realize that a lot of things had slipped from his mouth that should’ve never graced the ears of anyone. Especially you. 

And every word that he spat at you, every snarky remark, each time he raised his voice, he pushed you further and further away. Which is probably how you ended up here, pulling into the driveway in the same clothes you had on last night. It’s probably how you ended up sleeping with your coworker. Seven times. 

“(Y/N)?” And the sound of Harry’s voice as you creep in the door puts an un-ignorable lump in the center of your throat.

It’s Monday. You’re sure that it’s Monday and that he wasn’t supposed to be home until Sunday. It’s practically a week earlier than he had planned, and a week earlier than you were expecting him. 

You hadn’t thought about this, the repercussions that followed an affair. You didn’t consider the guilt, the shame, the turmoil. You didn’t consider Harry. 

A couple fingers run through your hair in attempt to smooth out the sex hair you were sporting, as your heart races faster with each step. Your thoughts are moving too fast for you to sort them out and find an excuse for wearing jeans and a work shirt at 8 in the morning, because it’s Sunday and you don’t work on the weekends. It’s fucking Sunday and Harry wasn’t supposed to be home until next week. 

“Hey,” he sighs, placing a handful of envelopes on the kitchen counter, “grabbed th’mail.”

“I thought you were coming home next week.” Your answer is meek, expression dim and unamused, the complete opposite of what he was hoping.

“Supposed to,” he breathes defeatedly, “I just- You’re still mad a’ me. Y’still mad ‘nd I didn’t wanna keep apologizing behind a screen. Needed t’just, dunno, needed t’see yeh.”

You can tell he’s already waving his white flag, completely surrounding any fight he had left in him. He’s soft, so so soft, and genuinely distraught. Bags under his eyes, body hanging low because he’s tired of fighting with you. He’s tired. 

“S’alright,” you exhale, and you can almost see a weight lifted from his shoulders, “it’s okay. M’not mad, it’s okay.”

He goes in for a kiss, to finalize the forgiveness and grant himself that small piece of solitude he’d been denied of for so long. And God, does it feel so wrong. There’s still a trace of another man on your lips, on your skin, all over your body. And all he wants to do is drown in you. It feels wrong. You allow it, letting him cup your face with his hands as he peppers your cheeks with dainty pecks, any remaining tensions relieving itself in the company of your comfort. 

“Left all th’mail fo’ me, yeah?” He tsk’s playfully, heading back over to the unopened envelopes.

You shrug innocently, sauntering past him and his pile of mail to get a glass of water and a piece of gum. The only sound throughout the house is the loud smacking of chewing gum, the tearing of paper, a few notes Harry hums as he sifts through junk mail and separates it from the rest. 

“Christ, (Y/N),” he grumbles, “who’s callin’ yeh this much?”

“Let me see.”

You peer over his shoulder from behind, his hands holding the phone bill up high enough so that it’s visible to you. And as soon as you see the number, deeming it recognizable, your heart sinks and that familiar knot in your stomach begins to make it’s return. You figure that there’s never gonna be a good time to tell him what you’ve done. Regardless of when, or how, you tell him there’s no avoiding that heartache and the blowout fight that will soon follow. He’s got to know now, after looking that bill. He’s got to know.

“Yeh mum change her number?” He asks, turning his neck so his eyes could meet yours.

“Yeah,” you croak, “yeah she did.”

He chuckles to himself, mumbling about how he’s glad there’s no house phone, how it’d be ringing off the hook for 23 hours of the day. And as he mutters to himself, sliding the phone bill to the side where all the other bills laid, you took your water and your gum to the shower to wash away any remnants of your previous night in hopes that maybe the hot water would rid you of some of the guilt, too. 

The duration of your shower seems much longer than it really is, as you let the water run along the top of your skin as you stare at the tiles in front of you. It’s better to just tell him. Just get it over with. There’s no way you could keep this to yourself. How could you when you feel this shitty, and so small. God, you feel small. And as your hand reaches for the towel slung over the shower door, wrapping around your body before stepping onto the granite floor, you decide that you’d tell him now.

“Harry,” you call to him, feet leaving small wet puddles behind you down the stairs, “gotta talk to you.”

He’s still stood exactly where you left him, a pile of mail scattered haphazardly along the kitchen island. The phone bill is in the center, your phone laying just a couple inches away from it, and just a few inches in front of Harry. His lips are pursed, palms resting omg the edge of the counter. His head is hung particularly low, before he lets out a low huff. 

“Y’mum called,” he states, “at least, thought it was yeh mum. S’why I picked up. Must’ve been the deep voice that threw me off.”

“Can you just let me-”

“A name,” he exhales shakily, “think y’owe me tha’ much, yeah?”

Your silent for a minute, before he looks up at you for his answer, “Tyler, from work it’s- Tyler.”

The room falls silent. The deafening sound of bitter silence feels like it’s weighing down on you, harder and harder, so much so that it feels like the room keeps getting smaller. There’s a tightness in your chest, a blatantly undeniable one, and the nauseous feeling swirling in your gut soon makes an appearance as well. He hasn’t said anything. Not a word comes from him. You would’ve preferred the shouting, the yelling, even the crying. Even when you think there’s a sign of a tear, he runs his hands over his face. 

“Don’t see him anymore.” He declares.

“What?”

“Y’fucking listening to me, (Y/N)?” He hisses, “if we wanna get past this, yeh can’t see him anymore.” 

“If I stop seeing him?” You ask, brows furrowed.

“I can,” he sucks in a breath, “can get past this, was away and said some things to yeh. I can get past this, but yeh can’t see him anymore.”

His eyes flicker up from the top of the counter to meet yours, studying your face for a response to his request. And there’s an uncomfortable stiffness in the room as he waits, and as you ready yourself to say something he may not care to hear.

“And what if I don’t want that?”