#just to get the water level in the toilet low enough to where i could plunge it.

[fallenangelflonne]

today's been a really long day.

[scaryscarecrows]

Salvation for the Weary

Dove’s been sitting on the toilet for about half an hour, waiting for the guy she’s got handcuffed in her shower to wake up.

It might be a while. She’d cold-cocked him pretty good once the door was locked behind them, and, uh...well…

She did put ice on the lump. After she’d stripped him and handcuffed him in the shower, but there is ice on the lump.

This whole thing is...it’s surreal, is what it is. She’s alert , hyper-aware of her breathing and that of the man’s, a little hung up on how uncomfortable the cold toilet lid is, and a bit, just a bit, sick to her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s nerves or just…

This man has information that she wants. He works for Lex, lower-level, it’s true, but he works for Lex and more importantly, he can tell her about the men who killed Jay. She wants those ones. And he’s going to give them to her.

When ten more minutes pass without a twitch, she reaches over and turns the water onto straight cold. Maybe it works, maybe it’s timing, but he comes to life with a strangled squawk.

“Wh-where--”

Oh, brother.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He doesn’t like that; his eyes narrow and he spits, voice dripping with hate, “You bitch .”

She’s been called worse in kinder situations, which means she can muster up a sunny smile when she leans forward and says, “Maybe. But this bitch knocked you out, so…” She shrugs. “I just want to talk.”

She does not just want to talk. She wants to scream, to rip him limb from limb and cut his tongue out to shove down his throat, followed by a finger or four, and just watch him choke.

But she’s not going to do that.

Probably.

“Fuck you, let me go--”

She jabs her stun gun into his groin, just above his dick, and hits the button.

He doesn’t scream, not really. There’s an aborted noise , but overall he just flops and jerks like a fish until she withdraws.

“That was the least painful thing I can do to you,” she tells him, doing her best to channel Penguin’s cold, disinterested-yet-pissed tone. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know, and you’re going to tell me now.”

He’s silent, breathing through clenched teeth. Dove sets the stun gun in the sink, where he can’t reach it, and picks up her still-bloody pipe.

“If you don’t,” she continues, “I start cutting bits off. Do we understand each other?”

He spits at her. Misses, but still. The sentiment is there.

“When I get outta here, you’re gonna be so fucking sorry,” he snarls. “I’m gonna kill everyone you ever so much as looked at and then I’m gonna fu--”

The pipe breaks his nose with a sickening crack! Knocks out two teeth, too; they skitter down the drain. Oops. Nothing a little Drano can’t handle, surely.

“Your boss,” she says, and she can’t stop her voice from shaking, “had my son tortured for two goddamn days before having him killed. There is nothing you can do to me, but there’s a lot I can do to you.”

He spits again. This time blood and a piece of tooth hits the edge of the shower. Dove puts the pipe aside, picks up her X-Acto knife, and gets up. He’s as trussed up as she could manage, but he can still kick at her. And bite, but...bites are easy to dodge.

She settles next to his head, uncaps the X-Acto, and presses the blade against the soft skin under his left eye. Said eye widens and lowers so that he’s nearly cross-eyed trying to see it. Good.

“I want Gregory Miller,” she says. “And you’re going to tell me how I can do that.”

Gregory Miller is one of the few cops that, as far as anyone knows, can’t be bribed with the promise of a free lay or a Favor. He goes to work, gets takeout on the way home. That’s it. She’s not stupid enough to get him in his house, but if there’s any sort of blackmail material...or, well, anything else. But she wants him, because he’s a midlevel: low enough that he won’t really be missed, but high enough to know, maybe, who had Jay. Or at least know someone who does.

“Screw you--” She presses the blade down a little more. A pinprick of blood appears and grows, trickling down like a tear. “Okay, okay! I’ll talk!”

“Never doubted you for a second,” she soothes, withdraws the knife so it’s just resting against the skin. “Miller. How do I get him.”

He takes a few deep breaths, clearly under the impression that she’s a patient woman. She’s about to dig the X-Acto in again, maybe take that eye out, when he blurts out, “He makes a little extra money selling drugs. Like. You gotta. Gotta go to him, he doesn’t come to you, he’s got an exclusive list--I-I can getcha on it! I can hook you up!”

Interesting.

Dove withdraws the knife and puts the cap back on. Safety first, after all. He sighs, clearly starting to feel better about his situation.

Sometimes, men are really fucking dumb. Then again, this guy wasn’t too bright to start with. All it took to get him here was a throaty, ‘hey there, big boy’, a wink, and a slow saunter out of the bar. He’d come running like a dog.

“I’ll get myself on it, thanks,” she says, twisting around to set the knife in the sink. “But I appreciate your cooperation. Really.”

“What are you doing.”

Dumb as a box of rocks.

“I can’t have you blabbing,” she says, because come on , he didn’t really think he was going to walk away, did he?

Come now, come now, you don’t have to be so dumb, now.

“I told you what you wanted!”

“Yup.”

“You crazy bitch--”

Dove has a gun. She knows how to use it. But guns are noisy. A switchblade jammed into a man’s neck, however, is not.

There’s a reason Penguin likes knives. 

She’ll take care of this in the morning. Or start to, anyway, start breaking him down and getting him out of here. She’s got some spring cleaning to do, or...something. Lotta trash to take out.

She flicks off the light and leaves the bathroom. Her heart’s beating too fast and she can’t quite catch her breath.

This isn’t the first time she’s seen a man die. It’s not even the first time she’s killed one. But. It’s just.

This won’t bring Jason back. She knows it won’t. But she’d...it almost…

It feels like it should. She did her bit, now he has to come home.

She sinks to her knees, sobbing. He’s not coming home, no matter what she does, and it’s so fucking cold at night--

Okay. Okay. Come on. Come on, get up. Get some. Some tea, maybe, yeah, tea, and calm down. Just try to calm down. It’s over for tonight.

It’s over for tonight.

THE END

[thewul]

design notes: and so we had to go back to the Amphitheater to find out what can take place beneath it, and the first thing we have to do is get the access ramp out of the way

it's a long ramp that leads to the 1st of our sideway alleys, these sideway alleys are large people can gather there while they are directed to their seats

also they allow for an efficient circulation going in and out of the Amphitheater

the whole Amphi plane levels down to the theater in front, now the question we have to ask is do we have that as a full fledged floor underneath or less

high estimate, low, median, we want to be conservative, because after all we just need enough space for our water rooms, judging from my experience with Amphitheaters we should have that floor stretching to include the 3rd row from the ramp

and that is more than enough space for our water rooms, on both sides of the access ramp

right now we have no interest in communicating spaces, but perhaps we could put some equipment in that space for air purification for example

let's carve out that utilities booth, and simplify our shapes and we end up with the wet areas of our water rooms that we have to split between toilets and showers

we made the wet areas wide, with roomy toilets and showers in mind

and we still obtain a lot of interior space, it so happens that we also have to implement a row of sinks

there, with the toilets in dark grey, we need to do 2 things now, implement the sinks and cut out our entrances

we have our sinks and entrances now, on the sides, pragmatically because a section of the toilets row cannot be accessed it becomes booths for our UV purification equipment

I am starting to wonder is such capable air purification unit and UV blocks do not actually handle all of the Amphitheater, of course with separate ducts

fine so let's see the UV lights set up and also where our air purification vents are located, UV beams are right overhead of the toilets rows, and the air vents are right overhead of the sinks

the showers should be fine, lots of soap and shampoo goes there we said these are biodegrable products, still cleaning them is part of the crew's clean up routine

now why do we bother with so much air purification even using UV to kill bacteria and germs, basically because we are aboard a submarine and that air isn't going anywhere it needs to be recycled and that recycling needs to be top notch, ie we have to obtain clean sterile air as an output

last but not least these water rooms are enclosed using automatic sliding glass doors so they're contained, the total volume of air in each wing is exchanged every 45 seconds

these are mixed use there's no way around it given that the composition of the crew might be 70/30 between men and women, even at 60/40 still a mixed use given the limited capacity of each wing, combined we should be fine

in retrospect it is important that our water rooms are located in the Upperdeck, because as can and should welcome visitors onboard to use the Amphitheater we cannot either tell them that they cannot use the waters in one of our main decks, or allow them to go about the ship unaccompanied

Thank you for having followed

design notes continued: I guess the air input into the air cleaning system is looped back into the UV units, that makes a lot of sense…

[lifewithoutmeds]

june 10, 2023

had a bad few weeks upon returning from my bishop camping trip.

some of it was driving down from bishop and remembering how on my last drive down from bishop, i was with jadai, fresh off of an amazing camping adventure, and now here i was, down the same road, in the same car, but without her, and only little landmarks along the way to remind me of where i used to go, and who i used to go with.

spent a solid two weeks or so just crying, sobbing at times, but this could also have been as a result of weaning off of lexapro for the first time in several years. i did finally get my lamichtal prescription, but the good effects have yet to kick in and i’ve just had an uncomfortable generalized itchiness and occasional rash which seems to be a fairly common side effect.

there were some days where i felt much heaviness that sometimes felt physical. one night i felt that my chest felt unusually heavy, and i checked my heart rate to see it going down into the low 50′s, just hovering over 50 at one point, which was alarming (which raised my heart rate temporarily), but i wondered if i had anything ranging from hypothermia from prolonged exposure to cold while fishing in bishop (it clouded over then rained and i was only wearing a thin long sleeved shirt), bradycardia (low heart rate), or low thyroid (sensitivity to cold, depression, tiredness, etc.) fortunately i had a doctor’s appointment yesterday morning in which my heart rate and oxygen levels and things that could be measured immediately came up normal, and i also got a blood test so i’ll find out more things in a week or so.

as i mentioned, the last two weeks were pretty bad coming back from camping, and i was pretty unable to do anything but stare at my computer ineffectively during work hours, then lie in bed and stare at my phone from about 5pm on. so things got messy, dishes went unwashed, and my car remained full of camp items until just a few days ago. 

the last couple days though have displayed a slight uptick in mood and activity. on thursday i reached out to amir as i often do and he suggested we go over to see cesar who was recovering from a leg surgery and we stayed out til about 12:30 a.m. getting appetizers and drinks in glendora. i didn’t sleep well or enough, but the next day (friday) had my doctor’s appointment and met up with tracy to go fishing in santa barbara, which was a relative success, minus the seaweed that our line often got tangled in, and accidentally leaving our items too close to the water while the tide was coming in, resulting in some of our personal items getting wet/sandy. we got dinner and a couple beers at barrelhouse 101 in ventura on the way back, then went back to our respective homes where i only had the strength to rinse/scrub the patches of tar off my feet and the sand from my legs before passing out and not really getting out of bed til around 11a.m. this morning.

today has been relatively productive so far. i made my list and have taken my new meds, made the bed, checked the mail, washed the dishes twice, run the vacuum twice, brought in some items from the car, scrubbed the toilet, and now journaling. rhiannon is over (she came over last week too) and is writing down her finances/accounting for May, which is an exercise we started about a month ago to better get an idea of input v output and start paying down some of her debt.

my heart feels a bit heavier than it has, but i can’t tell if it’s emotional or physical as sometimes i can’t differentiate between a stomachache and heartache, strangely.

i’m a bit disappointed that i haven’t been as strict with andrew huberman’s routine, as i’ve been too sleepy to go out for a morning walk and too cold for my cold shower, and then ran out of lemons so couldn’t include that in my electrolyte drink, but i DID just order some health supplements from amazon that should be coming in the next couple days such as protein powder (as it’s been difficult to get enough protein in a day), electrolyte powder (so i neither have to depend on julia’s lemons or go through a regular 5 lb bag from costco), vitamins (as i’ve run out and i’ve been more aware of how i need regular amounts of magnesium and calcium, as well as other vitamins), a green superfood powder (because Athletic Greens is cost prohibitive), and a bit more randomly, an indoor smokeless grill/cooktop because i’ve been craving kbbq but restaurant prices and rather exorbitant tip/wage adjustment expectancies have been making that rather cost-prohibitive as well. hopefully i’ll be able to do more in-home kbbq’s and save some money by doing so. i’ve already gotten some interest from xio and tracy, so that should be fun. also we’ll be able to allocate more money for beer/alcohol since we’ll be saving in the upcharge for eating out, so, everybody wins, except for service workers i suppose.

i just took a few tums so hopefully i feel better (physically) soon, and i hope i feel mentally better soon as well.

upcoming things:

comedy show, june 17th - with Anjali father’s day, june 18th - will bring some meat to grill to my dad’s place mom’s bday, june 21st, to be celebrated June 19th - Sakana sushi reservation and two tickets to a Hollywood bowl concert for her gift esther’s bday, june 27th, to be celebrated june 21st via bday dinner lorena’s bday, june 27th

[distracteddegenerate]

Carnation

Yuta x Fem!reader

Warnings: period sex, lots of blood mentions, yandere undertones for Yuuta, TW.Dubcon if you squint I just want to be safe lol, unprotected sex, smut

Got super carried away with this one which is why it’s so long lol. I decided to combine the asks since I have got a lot for Yuta. Second anon if you’re uncomfortable with this fic which is understandable lol just shoot me another ask and I can do something else for you.

You lay curled in your bed, the sheets and pillows a mess around you, a fluffy hot water bottle cradled tightly to your front. The side of your body you laid on was beginning to ache from pressure, and you felt flush from heat, but you dared not move. You dreaded the intensifying of the stabbing pains your own body was wretchedly subjecting you to. Of course today would be the heaviest of your period, the day you had scheduled for a study session with Yuta. He was due to come over in about half an hour, and your pains were yet to ease up at all, despite the painkillers you had recently downed. You could cancel, yet, this was the first ever study session you had set up with your handsome friend, and you were loath to cancel it over something that would clear itself up eventually.

You closed your eyes, and pulled the hot water bottle you gripped like a lifeline closer to the source of your suffering.

~~~

*knock knock*

Fuuuuck. Was it that time already? You groggily sat up, releasing your water bottle and in replacement lightly pressing your hand against the throbbing pain that was starting to surge more strongly in the pit of your belly. You gently placed your feet on the ground off the side of your bed, and rose onto the balls of them just as delicately. You began your gloomy shuffle towards the entrance of your room, fixing your ruffled hair into place.

You pulled the door open on yourself slowly, croaking as Yuta’s tired but docile face materialised into view. 

“Good evening, (Name)-chan.” Yuta had his hands in his pockets and wore a kindly smile, the only thing betraying his pleasant demeanour being those familiar dark circles dusking the underside of his eyes. Dreary though they appeared, you could swear you saw a specular shimmer dance across his irises when he registered your form.

“Ah good evening to you too, Yuta! Come in and make yourself at home, I have some stuff set up on the coffee table.” You tried your best to look as perfectly in humour as you could, to not draw any attention to your current pain stricken condition. Must have been good enough, as Yuta had nodded in response and was now making his way over to nestle himself onto one of the pillows you had placed next to your make-shift study station. 

You yourself was headed to the kitchenette, about to ask what Yuta wanted to drink when a sharp stab erupted from your core. You threw your hand onto a countertop and visibly winced, when you noticed Yuta’s widened eyes had been following you. 

“(Name)! Are you okay?!” Yuta’s expression was alarmed, prepared to pounce up from his seating.

“Uh- I er uh- tripped over! Nothing to worry about!” You were blushing slightly, but righted yourself regardless and tried to stand as straight as you could. Yuta seemed slightly confused, and whilst he opened his mouth to speak you interrupted him with a casual “So what would you like to drink?” 

“Er.. I’m fine actually, I had something before I left home... actually I think you should come sit down, er, carefully.” He still looked a little concerned. You nodded your head and made your way over to his side. Settling yourself down, you could feel more pain pulsating within you, a low rumble threatening another great stab like you had experienced just. You drew your legs to your chest in an attempt to alleviate it slightly, and picked up your copy of “a comprehensive guide to the relation of curses and the law”; holding it open in front of you.

You could feel Yuta’s gaze still trained on you.

~~~

“So, although the police would have to intervene if someone was hurt or killed in the incident, sorcerers still have the right to- er - (Name)?”

Crap. You were too focused on the waves of torture oscillating in your guts to keep your attention on Yuta explaining the info that went over your head in class to you again. And he noticed. You looked up at him softly, and offered a subdued “sorry.” You didn’t really have energy to maintain your act of being fine anymore. His eyes looked concerned. You turned your head to the floor and fiddled with your hands.

“Hey, (Name).” You heard him shift and alter the positioning of his legs. “Is it that time of the month?”

What?! Who asks that like this?! 

You threw your head back up to look at him, your face red and mouth agape. He threw his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, sorry!” He hurriedly turned his gaze into the distance and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just.. I have a little sister, so I’m used to this sort of thing, or at least I know a bit more about it than other guys.” He looked back to you. “It seems like the pains at least are distracting you from your studies, if you need painkillers or something.. I can go get them for you.”

“I er...I already tried that… doesn’t work out that well for me.” Was your meek, barely audible reply. You played with the tassel of the pillow you were sat on. Yuta looked pained on your behalf.

“Y’know… I read online somewhere that there’s always something you can try out failing all else.” He caught your gaze, and held it intently. 

It must be too good to be true, how would Yuta know some hidden method that you (as someone who experienced periods) didn’t know about for dealing with the pains?! Your eager look betrayed itself when a switch flicked in your head and your expression turned into one of astonishment. There’s no way he’s gonna suggest…

“Org*sms.”

You’d known Yuta for awhile now, but you had no idea just how… artless he was. Where was his tact?! Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. You felt like your face was about to explode.

Looking at him though, he was practically unfazed! As if you were going about some matter-of-a-fact order of business. What was this situation!

“I-is.. that a joke Yuta?” Your hands were curling into tight balls. 

“Of course not, (Name). You look like you’re in so much pain. I just want to help alleviate it.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Like you will just hop up right now and go jerk yourself in the bathroom as casually as using the toilet.. Or.. could he have meant..

You felt Yuta’s hand settle on your thigh, as he leant down further towards you. “I can help you out (Name)-chan.”

You couldn’t deny, you’d always found Yuta handsome, but for things to move along this quickly… and of all times! Surely his level of straight-forwardness defied all social conventions, and yet, it was working. The feel of his hand resting on you, his hungry stare, the way he loomed over you, chest rising and falling intently. You could feel a different kind of ache emanating from your lower parts. 

His hand drifted further up your body, coming to stop just below your belly button. “I want to help you… (Name)-chan.” You looked into his dark eyes. They were intense, hungry. You could swear he was salivating. 

“B-but Yuta.. I-I’m.. You know! Isn’t that.. Gross? For you?” He shot you a sheepish grin, hiding his eyes in an evasive fashion. His hand travelled downwards once more, snaking up the inside of your loose-fitting shorts and looping his fingers over the sides of your panties. He toyed with them, rolling the cloth over your skin and lightly pulling at them. “I don’t think any part of you is gross, (Name)-chan.” His eyes flicked open again, drawing you back into his intensity. “I think every part of you is beautiful, even.” You could sense his earnestness, and it made your cheeks burn. You went to throw your hands up to them, but he quickly caught them in his. “So, what’s your answer?” He planted a kiss in your palm. “Do you want my help? (Name)-chan.” 

Fuck.. the way he looked at you. Those ferocious, hooded eyes. Those calloused hands, usually wrapped around a katana, wrapped around yours right now. The burning you felt between your legs. God yes. God, you wanted it.

The alleviation of pain (and studying) was an afterthought.

~~~

Yuta had returned back to your living space with a towel from the bathroom. What? you didn’t want to get the floor messy. You could see an erection straining tightly against his black pants. 

Fuck, you were really gonna do this. He set it down flat on the floor, and invited you to come situate yourself on it.

~~~

After removing his shirt (It was white, after all), Yuta knelt himself down in front of you. He had a certain glint in his eyes, almost conflicting the harmless smile that he also wore, as if he wasn’t about to blissfully pound your bloody c*nt into oblivion. He undid the front buckle of his pants, a bulge emerging, the explicitness of his bare dick concealed by gray underwear. He began palming at the protuberance. You eyed the display curiously, when you had a sudden realisation.

“Y-Yuta, w-what about… protection?” you asked, uneasily. 

“Hm? (Name)-chan, you’re on your period, remember? You won’t get pregnant.”

“B-but..”

He cut you off. “I don’t have anything. Trust me.”

You nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. Yuta was always a trustworthy figure for you. Your strong, reliable friend who you could always depend on. He always took care of you, even during skirmishes with curses, arriving at your side before things even had the chance to get particularly hairy.

You watch Yuta as he tilts his keeling body forward, his hands landing on your ankles before travelling upwards, spreading your legs open in the process. You feel yourself blushing once again, tossing your head to the side. You can feel the front of your damp p*nties being touched, jumping in slight surprise at the abrupt action before Yuta starts rubbing at your cl*t through the fabric. He notices your breathing falter.

“Do you like it, (Name)-chan? Do you like how it feels when I rub you there?”

You mumble a small “yes.”

He’s applying more pressure to his administrations now. “Do you want me to take your p*nties off? So I can touch you properly?”

You answer yes again, this time more hastily. 

With that, he curls his fingers over the sides of your p*nties, dragging your legs into the air as he twists his body appropriately in order to shimmy the restrictive fabric off of you. He casts them to the side, before pulling your trembling limbs back into their previous position. Once he settled them back down, he kept his hands on your thighs as he drank in the glory of your exposed c*nt quivering before him, the string of your tampon peaking out in a taunting manner.

You heard him cooing at you quietly. “Beautiful.”

You cringed, wondering if he’d still be thinking that when he’s stained with blood. Even so, you couldn’t help but melt under the feeling of his fingertips tracing circles into your inner thighs. The way you felt a thumb flick over your n*ked sex.

“Is your stomach still hurting you?” The sudden question snapped you out of your stupor.

Truth be told, you’d almost completely forgotten about your pains you were so caught up in the moment, but something held you back from saying so. As if Yuta would stop touching you if you let him know the “reason” for the two of you doing this was almost completely resolved. And, you were relishing in the tenderness of his comforting too much for it to stop.

“Y-Yes..”

Yuta bent further over you, his head looming over your core. He sunk down, his face leaning into the space of your skin where your tummy and pelvis met. He planted a light kiss there.

“Well, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as his head lifted, his presence shadowing over you once again as he held himself higher. Your heart pounded. He leaned further on your left thigh and removed his hand from the other, as you felt fingers poking at your aching heat again.

Could you feel… pulling?

You felt a horrible, obscene slick escape you suddenly when Yuta yanked out your tampon. He pinched it limply in fingers, observing it slightly before placing it on the towel you shared.

“Yuta?!” You whelped. It was ironic. The two of you were sharing an intimate moment with each other, almost completely exposed. But this? It felt somewhat... invasive.

You could sense Yuta shrugging. “It needed to come out.” Before you even had a chance to respond, you could feel him caressing your folds. He was circling his thumb over them, the peak of the eclipse swiping over your cl*t. “Don’t worry, (Name)-chan you look beautiful.”

You looked to him, but he didn’t return the gaze. His stare was boring into your most private parts, hungrily eating up the view. The calloused hand still wrapped around your leg was gripping on tightly, as you felt Yuta dip a finger into your sopping c*nt.

“Fuck.. it’s so.. wet.”

Well, that was a given you supposed. But you knew a lot of what was down there was also probably your usual feminine slick, with the way he was making you ache. He continued pumping his finger in and out, the motion becoming deeper and rougher, him gaining confidence in what you were willing to take in. You could feel your muscles strain around it.

“That’s three.”

“Wait, w-what?!”

“Three fingers, (Name)-chan. You’re drenched down here.” You felt him remove his digits, Spreading them out across your lips. You then felt him draw a line across your inner thighs that intersected your p*ssy in the middle. Was he… playing in it? You decided not to question, you were too caught up in a wanton haze, hips bucking upwards, begging for his touch to return to your most sensitive parts.

“Y-yuta..”

He looked at you and smiled sincerely. “-just need to make sure you’re nice and loose for me, (Name)-chan.” Before you could react, plunging fingers speared your weeping c*nt, pumping with violent pace. You yelped and crumpled in on yourself when you felt his fingers curl against your velvety walls, yielding against the pressure. You squirmed underneath him even more when he began spreading them, parting your insides. You hummed, laying your hand over the top of his head, entwining yourself in the strands of his hair.

He shifted into your touch. “God, love this. So fucking beautiful.”

He peered at you from beneath those dark lashes. “You think you’re ready?”

“Hm?”

“For my cock.”

At that, you nodded, releasing your grasp on his hair and trailing your hand down his chest as he straightened himself, looping his fingers over the sides of his boxers, staining it with blood. He tugged them down, his painfully erect dick springing out into open air. You found yourself surprised at the length. Yet, He was focused on you. Pointing at your top half he asked you, “Can you take all of this off?”

You nodded and complied hurriedly.

When you were done Yuta was quick, grabbing your knees to hold you in place, leaning over to plant yet another doting kiss on your body, This time in the space between your bare breasts. You felt him begin to push into you. He managed the entirety of his length, before pulling himself almost all the way out again. You noticed how he looked down, admiring the sheen of your blood now coating his member. He quickly snapped his hips back into you again, and began assuming a steady pace of rutting. Your legs found themselves wrapping around him, your ankles cross sectioning across his taught upper back. You wanted to tell him it felt good, but the most you could manage was a weak moan.

That seemed to set something off within him. He lunged over you, enveloping your entire body with his own. He planted one hand on the towel beneath you, firmly beside your head. The other found itself groping a t*t, clawing over it to pinch your hard nipple, surrounding the ar*ola with petals of red. His pace was raw and piercing, but the slight discomfort you felt was laced with a more intense pleasure.

You heard him groan. “-god.. You feel so good. Fucking you like this.. It’s just so.. primal.” He was lightly scraping his nails against you, tracing trails of scarlet down your body. You understood what he meant by that perfectly. The way he was looking down at you, almost slavering at the lips at your vulnerable form, like some wild animal lost in it’s lust.

The feeling of it, the sounds of it. It was also so expl*cit. Yet so gratifying. 

You lost yourself, allowing Yuta to abuse your lower half as he pleased, even matching your hips to his punishing motions. The l*wd squelching noises as he fucked into your excessive wetness, the way he played with your sensitive nipple at the same time, your entire being yearning into his ministrations. 

“I-I’ve always dreamt of this, (Name)-chan” You were too lost in a fucked out haze to really respond, humming lightly as you stroked the arm gripping your breast. His pace got even quicker then, rougher. His form that was already entirely draped over yours weighed down on you with even more pressure, the slap of his bucking hips against your buttox resounding loudly. It’s all too much, your legs weak when you cream his c*ck, a wave of release gushing out of you as your heat throbs wildly.

Your limbs go weak as you reel from the org*sm, your walls spasming around Yuta as he continued his bucking.

Yuta’s gaze rests on your dazed expression, his dark eyes settling over you. “You needed my c*ck didn't you?” He moves the hand that was on your bre*st to caress over your face.  “Desperately. I know you did.” 

You felt Yuta’s pace get rougher, losing it’s steady tempo as he chases closer to his climax. He thrusts into you heartily a final time before his release spills into you, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm out slowly and tenderly. He remains inside for sometime after, rubbing your hips with his thumb as he admires the mixture of c*m and blood streaming out of your hole and cascading down his dick. 

“Beautiful.”

He looks to your face now, smiling gently. 

“So, do you feel better now, (Name)?”

[sgstories123]

Weijie’s Shower

Weijie prefers to run in the night as it was much cooler.  It was almost 2 am when he completed his run around his neighbourhood and reached his block of HDB flats. As usual, he ran topless and his whole body was drenched in perspiration, soaking through his running shorts. He was looking forward to a nice, long shower.

As he ran up the stairs to his flat on the 6th floor, he saw a female figure lying motionless at the front of his neighbour’s flat. He moved forward cautiously and on closer observation, realised that it was his neighbour Anna.

Anna and her husband only moved in a couple of months ago. They are newly married and both are working in large multinationals. Weijie did not get to see them much except during some mornings when they were going to work and he was going to camp for his national service. As such, he had almost always seen the both of them in corporate suits.

No wonder he could not recognise Anna as she is now dressed in a short red dress. She must have just come home from clubbing or a party. She was definitely drunk.

“Are you okay, Anna?” Weijie asked.

Anna looked up and managed a weak smile. “Oh, it’s you, Weijie.” She mumbled something incoherently and her eyes glazed over in drunken stupor.

Weijie got closer to help Anna up. As he held her by the arms, he realised that Anna had very smooth, flawless skin. Her dress was cut low at the front, showing her cleavage and large breasts. He had not realised how large they were as they were always hidden behind Anna’s corporate wear.

As he pulled Anna up, he saw that Anna’s dress was much shorter than he thought. It barely covered her ass and he could just see her matching red panties flashing at him.

“My keys. In the bag. Help me open the door.” Anna repeated, this time a little more coherently.

Weijie saw a small red bag on the floor besides Anna and fumbled through her belongings before finding her keys. He smiled to himself when he saw condoms in Anna’s bag. Was she using them with her husband or with someone else?

Supporting Anna with one hand, he managed to open the door to her flat with the other. Slowly, he helped her inside the flat and settled her onto the sofa.

“Where’s your husband?” Weijie asked, looking around the neatly decorated flat.

“He’s away on a business trip. Won’t be back for a couple of days.” Anna replied.

“Oh, okay. You seems better now. I better make a move.” But before Weijie could even move, Anna stood up suddenly and with a serious look, said in a low urgent voice “I think I am going to throw up. Help me quickly to the bathroom.”

Weijie held Anna by her arms and went into her bedroom’s adjoining toilet. She supported herself with her hand on the wall, waiting for the nausea to subside. Weijie stood next to her on the pretext of helping her but in reality, he was admiring her curvy figure in the tight short red dress.

Anna smiled. “Looks like I am okay. Thanks Weijie.” She turned around but her hand hit the tap level by accident and water from the overhead shower rained upon them.

“Ha ha!” Anna laughed, seemingly still a little drunk. “Help me remove my clothes,” she giggled while fumbling with her dress.

Weijie hesitated for a moment but complied anyway. It was difficult trying to remove the tight dress, especially when it is wet and clung on to Anna’s skin. He finally managed to peel it off, revealing a set of matching red lacy bras and panties.

Anna seemed oblivious to her surrounding. She closed her eyes, lifting her head upwards to enjoy the water pouring down her face. Weijie was also wet from the water but he did not care as he was mesmerised by the sight of Anna looking so sexy in the shower.

Anna reached behind her back, removing her bra in one quick movement. She pulled her panties down, revealing a small, black, triangular patch of pubic hair. She seemed to have some trouble removing it entirely as her panties were now soaked with water and clung to her skin.

“Help me?” Anna looked at Weijie seductively.

Weijie knelt in front of Anna, helping her remove her panties. He looked up and saw her slit to her love tunnel through the thin, short public hair. Anna trimmed her pussy, thought Weijie.

“Oh, I am going to pee.” Anna said softly before resting one hand on Weijie’s shoulder, preventing him from standing up. Her fingers from her other pried open her vagina, allowing a stream of yellow pee to emanate from within.

When her urine hit Weijie on his face, he thought he will be disgusted. He had heard of golden showers before but never thought that it will be something that he will enjoy. Instead, when some of Anna’s body fluid went into his mouth, he thought it tasted like warm beer. He opened his mouth to drink down more of Anna’s pee, arching forward to lick off the last drops from her vagina.

He continued licking Anna’s cunt, using his fingers to spread open her inner lips. When he found her clitoris, he alternated between jabbing and rubbing it with his tongue. Anna was getting horny from his licking. She clung on to him, digging her fingers on his back. As Weijie intensified his attack, Anna started moaning in pleasure, grinding her pussy deeper into his face. Weijie responded by grabbing her buttocks, and pushing himself even deeper. Before long, Anna achieved an orgasm, squirting her love juices on Weijie, rewarding him with another round of her body fluid.

“Wow. That was awesome. Your turn.” Anna smiled at Weijie. She pulled him up and pushed him against the wall of the toilet. She knelt in front of him pulling down his shorts, revealing an already hard and erect cock.

“Oh my god! This is huge. Much bigger than my husband’s.” Anna gasped. Hungrily, she swallowed Weijie’s cock, trying not to choke on his tool. Weijie held on to Anna as she gave him one of the best blowjobs that he ever had. Anna alternated between stroking his balls and his shafts, sometimes adding to the pressure and pleasure by squeezing his cock with her hands. Within minutes, he could feel himself approaching an orgasm. He pumped his cock faster into Anna’s mouth, and holding on to her head, ejaculated into her mouth.

Anna looked up at Weijie, still with his cock in her mouth. She swallowed his cum and licked his cock clean before letting it out of her mouth.

“Hmm, that was tasty.” Anna stood up to face Wiejie, giving him a kiss on the lips. Her arms wrapped around his body and her fingers drew lines along the contours of his muscular frame. She stopped at his nipples, giving him a tiny flick with her fingers, sending an electric shock through his body and giving him another erection. “You have a nice body. Strong and muscular. You are in NS, right? Are you man enough to fuck me?”

Weijie took that as a challenge. He turned Anna around to face the toilet wall. Now with the water from the shower flowing down her back, he spread her legs and pushed his hard cock into her waiting cunt. Anna held on to the wall for support as Weijie pushed himself deep into her from behind. He increased his pace, fucking her with deep strokes. Anna found herself moaning in pleasure from Weijie’s large cock. With each thrust, she moaned louder and louder.

“I am cumming” Weijie whispered in Anna’s ear. He grabbed her breasts, squeezing the large melons as if he was milking them.

“Cum in my asshole.” Anna whimpered.

Weijie pulled his cock out of Anna reluctantly and slowly prodded open Anna’s asshole with his fingers. Perhaps it was because of the water from the shower, but he was able to ease his cock slowly into Anna’s ass. It was much tighter than Anna’s vagina and Weijie could feel the warmth surrounding his cock. He continued fucking Anna for a couple more minutes before ejaculating into her ass. As he felt his cum dripping out of her asshole, he leaned forward to caress Anna’s breast before turning her head upwards for a final kiss.

“If you think you are man enough, shall we wash up and go for another round on my bed?” Anna smiled at Weijie.

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Tainted : Part One

Pairing  ::  Steve Rogers x  fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Smut, Masturbation(M), Invasion of Privacy?(it’s an imitate moment walked in on) 

Word Count  ::  2,090

Summary  ::  Everyone teased Steve for being “a boy scout”, but you find out he’s not so innocent after all.

A/N  ::  Takes place before Civil War.....there’s probably gonna be a part two... i don’t know when... most likely soon... I must be cleansed.... 

Part Two

Steve Rogers, aka, Captain America. To the public, he was perfect in every way. He was strong, kind, never swore, and always did what was morally right. Everyone loved him, how could they not? Especially when he smiled with his perfect pearly white teeth. 

What mattered most though was the fact he was a damn good soldier. On missions he did everything by the books, doing his best to fulfill the mission without a problem. Even when things did start to go wrong, he never crossed the line.

You, on the other hand, got the mission done, to say the least. You did what you felt was efficient and got the job done without a hassle, even if it meant throwing a few guys out a window. 

-

Thanks to a certain incident, you and Steve were paired together for your latest mission. The two of you had to sneak into the dictator of Latveria’s home and help break free a US diplomat who was being held forcefully at the mansion.

Sneaking in was easy, especially with the help of a secret informant within the mansion who had planned everything. You would dress up as a maid, easily blending in thanks to the large amount that worked there, and go a few times to get a layout of the place. You had three days to learn and remember every room on all four levels and figure out where the asset was.

On the fourth day, Steve would be snuck in by you pretending to bring in fresh linen sheets for the many beds of the house. He was in a laundry cart, which made it easy to transport him around the place. That didn’t make your job any easier, as the bedrooms were on the second and third floor, and the diplomat was in the basement. 

“How did you learn that many names in three days?” Steve questioned as he began to throw the sheets off of him.

You took him to a room on the second floor where you were more than positive no one used. On the way there, you had greeted several other maids and armed guards.

“I say a person’s name three times when I meet them so it helps me remember them.”

Hopping out the cart, he gave you a confused look. “It took you a month to learn mine.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t say it worked very well.”

You removed a few more sheets revealing two guns. You lifted the skirt of your dress, revealing two leg holsters attached to your thighs, and put the guns away.

Looking up at Steve, you saw his brows were raised, staring down at the skirt that now covered your thighs. “I thought this was supposed to be a quiet simple ‘get in and get out’ mission.” His eyes moved up to yours.

You stared at him deadpan for a moment, then let out a long sigh. “Rogers, you’re here to make sure things are ‘quiet’ and ‘simple’, and these are here,” you patted the guns on your thighs, “for when that doesn’t happen.”

He seemed stunned for a moment, but eventually nodded and the two of you were out of the room. 

It was fairly easy, sneaking down from the first floor to the second floor. Sneaking down from the first floor to the basement entrance would prove to be difficult though, as there were far more guards on the first level. 

The two of you stood in an empty hallway, staring around the corner at two men with large guns guarding the entrance to the basement. 

“That’s the only entrance?”

“That’s the only entrance.” You took in a small inhale, hand instantly going to your holster. “I say we take ‘em out, rush in, get the guy, and rush out.”

Steve shot after your hand, holding it with a firm grip. “Are you insane? There are probably over fifty guys in here and you want them all after us?”

“Well I’m sorry, but do you have a better plan?”

“Why don’t you ask them for help.”

“At best, one will come to help me. At worst, they’ll know something’s up because there are plenty of other guards I could’ve asked for help.”

The two of you began to bicker quietly, trying to figure out how to deal with the guards. So distracted amongst yourselves, you almost missed the faint sounds of the guards talking.

“Shush.” You put a finger up to Steve’s mouth, silencing him.

You peaked around the corner, eyes widening when you saw the guards were trading shifts now. The ones who had previously been on guard began walking away, headed towards your direction.

‘We need to go now’, You mouthed.

You and Steve quickly moved to the other end of the hallway, ready to turn the corner and hide, when you saw another guard talking to a maid. You glanced back to see if the guards had come around yet, seeing one of their shoes come into sight.

In a panic, you grabbed Steve’s hand and rushed him into the one closet you knew was in the hallway. The closet was rather small, almost filled with cleaning supplies. Luckily, there was barely enough room for the two of you, even if you were directly against one another.

You pushed him in, then backed yourself in and shut the door as quietly as you could, seeing the guards fully come around just as you closed the door. Your back was fully against his chest and you could feel his warm breath coming down on you. Steve tried to adjust himself in an attempt to put some sort of distance between the two of you. You were pressed against him so much, he could feel your lower back against his dick. He quickly stopped, jaw clenching when he realized he was only rubbing himself into you further.

You, too focused on listening for the guards and anyone else that could pass by, had only vaguely noticed Steve move around for a moment before stopping. Besides that, you didn’t care all too much if he was comfortable or not.

Until this moment, you two had never been close, physically or as friends. You were acquaintances, at least, that’s how you saw it. You found him handsome, as most women seemed to, and he was always a gentleman around you. You were polite in return, but aside from work, you two didn’t talk. He was the perfect boy scout and you were the girl scout that got kicked out for punching a girl who stuck gum in your hair. You didn’t think your two personalities would clash very well.

Mistakenly, you moved one of your arms, elbow hitting a lobby dustpan and causing it to fall over and jab your side. You winced, jerking back against Steve. Instantly, he grabbed your waist, holding on with a tight grip.

You assumed he was angry. “Sorry Cap,” You whispered.

After a good few minutes of you two being stuck together, with Steve still holding on, though not as tight, the coast was clear. You each crept out silently and continued with the mission. You noticed Steve stayed at least two feet away from you since, however, you ignored it.

-

The mission went on with a few hiccups, but you and Steve were able to handle them and safely extract the diplomat. Then, you managed to escape, avoiding oncoming fire from the guards and took the man to a safe house where he would then be snuck out of the country by different agents.

You and Steve, instead of going to the safe house, went back to the hotel you two had been staying at. Your mission was to get the guy out and to the safe house, that was it. Besides, you couldn’t even leave with him as there wasn’t enough room to take you and Steve. You wouldn’t be staying long, already scheduled to meet at a secure location for the next day to leave.

The two of you didn’t speak much once in your shared hotel room. You were rather tired, and Steve, being the incredible person he was, already started working on the report.

After changing into your pajamas, which was a large hoodie and a pair of shorts, you flopped down on the bed and passed out immediately. Steve gave you the bed when it was revealed there was only one, and instead opted to take the couch that folded out into a springy mattress.

You fell into a deep slumber, sleeping for a good few hours without disturbance. The only thing that woke you, was the need to use the restroom. Your body on autopilot, you stood up, carefully heading straight for the bathroom in the darkness. 

With your mind foggy from just waking up, you didn’t think to knock before entering, nor did you hear the faint sounds of water sprinkling down. You opened the door quietly, your tired mind under the impression Steve was asleep as well until you looked in.

The setup of the bathroom was the toilet right on the right-hand side when you opened the door and was the first thing you saw. Then, right next to it, was the sink with a large mirror. Across from it was the bathtub shower combo, that had a clear shower curtain with a few flowers spread across. The showerhead was placed opposite the door, so whoever was taking a shower had their back to the door.

You saw Steve’s bareback, but in the mirror, you saw him fully nude with water falling down the back of his neck, and his fist wrapped around his cock. You blinked twice before your eyes widened with pure horror as you realized you just walked in on Captain America masturbating.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to stop you from saying a word. You backed away, carefully trying to close the door so he wouldn’t notice you had walked in, until…

“(Y-Y/N),” He groans out. 

You halt, heart speeding as you believe he caught you walking in. You had the door open only a crack now, but you could still clearly see him.

“Fuck… (Y/N).” His voice is low, and he’s using a tone you’ve never heard from him.

‘He doesn’t know I’m here,’ You thought at first, glad he hadn’t seen you. Then, your brain falls into chaos and something lights up inside of you. ‘He doesn’t know I’m here! He doesn’t fucking know I’m here!‘ Your mind screamed.

His right hand glides over his dick and his left hand his firm against the tile wall. Rapidly, his hand moves from the head that’s already leaking, down the long shaft, and to his ballsack before coming back up and repeating the motion. With his small ragged breath, it’s clear he’s desperate for a release.

Your panties grow wet, hearing his low moans and watching the water droplets roll down his muscular build. You clench your thighs, cheeks burning, and your breathing now heavy. Not a single part of you had been touched, but the arousal you were getting was ruining your panties. You feel extremely guilty for watching him during this very private, and extremely intimate, moment. However, he did say your name, whether he knew you were listening or not, still, under the belief you were in the bed sound asleep.

His breath growing uneven, his legs begin to spasm, and his left hand balls into a fist against the tile wall. HIs pumps become erratic and he throws his head back, eyes shut. 

“Fuck,” He groans out, his cum finally spurting out of his cock. 

You watch his load come out, only to be washed away and down the drain. Your legs become shaky, watching his dick pulse with each spurt that comes out. He pumps until his cock stops shooting out cum and he moves his hand against the wall. He slumps forward, his hands holding him up as he takes a few deep breaths.

You see the corners of his lips curve upward as he enjoys his small moment of bliss. When he reaches to turn the knobs, you finally shut the door, careful as to not make a noise.

You scurry back to your bed, jumping under the blankets and hiding your face. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fall back asleep. Your racing mind wouldn’t allow it though. You had just watched the Steve Rogers masturbate, and you weren’t sure how to face him now.

[ofmermaidstories]

Over the weekend, my town flooded.

(content warnings for speculative dialogue about Putin’s invasion of Ukraine and implied animal death)

This isn’t particularly unusual—I live in a rural area, a valley, where the town’s spread over either side of a placid river. Placid in that on a normal summer day it’s not likely to drag you off, or under: when it rains, however, the catchments further north feed into it and given enough of this the river will do what all rivers do, when pushed, and breaks its’ banks.

We’d had a minor flood in January. Minor meaning, in this case, that the sports oval closest to the river and the lowest bridge that connects the town floods out. I live on what the locals call the “town” side, where most of the businesses are—it meant that the January flood was just another rainy season event. Sometimes this happens. The milk and bread and toilet paper disappear from the supermarkets, for a day or two (“I hate when my milky sandwiches give me the runs,” some smart-ass old guy comments on a post fretting about the panic buying, in the town’s facebook group, “These newbies haven’t seen nothing yet,” he warns).

Early last week we flooded again—this time, the water reached past he sports oval and under the highway and to the kids’ park. People post photos of their kids playing on the equipment anyway: giddy teenagers climbing on swings built for toddlers; actual toddlers toeing through the water mistrustfully. Nothing’s impacted, though. The town carries on as usual, forgoing that first, low-lying bridge to the other side of town in favour of our highest one, that slants over the state highway.

But then it rains all day Friday, with a wet weekend predicted. “We’re going to flood,” an older woman posts in the facebook group. “Stock up now while you can, we’re probably going to lose access to the roads soon.”

People panic in the comments, wondering about husbands away down the coast, or whether or not they’ll be able to get to work in the morning.

“Mate,” someone replies to one such comment, “you’ll be lucky if you’ll be able to get to your letterbox the way this is going, let alone to work.”

It’s easy to be curt or mean in a comment but I snort at the reply anyway, thumbing past it.

When I wake up the next morning, it’s to my neighbour’s voice carrying across the property, shouting into his phone that he’s lost power. Beyond his voice, I realise it’s too quiet—my fan, a Dyson knockoff that’s been running non-stop since I bought it earlier this summer, is turned off. We’ve lost power too—along with a third of the town.

Cutting the power in our case is a safety measure—we’re not close to the river so we’re not at risk of flooding, but the station that oversees our grid is. It turns out the caution is warranted—during that evening, while I lay in the dark making shadow puppets out of boredom and listening to the rain thunder down, the waters rise. The remaining bridge that connects the halved sides of this town together—the highest one we have, over the bottle-neck highway that connects us to the rest of the state—goes under water. The facebook group booms with anxious enquires, check-in posts, people asking for help to move things out of their homes or stores. Our town’s main street is in a basin; nearly half the businesses that make it up flood. People post photos of the water reaching the roof of the real estate agency; the pub. The $2 Dollar shop. The water is mere metres away from the only open supermarket in town—it stays open, though the shelves get stripped quickly. People stand in clumps; anxious, talking about the predicted levels, about more rain being on the way. One man holds a newspaper—Russia’s invasion of Ukraine printed on the front.

(“Could be worse,” he says to another old man, indicating with it, “they’re just like us, you know. Normal people, only now they have to fight off that bastard Putin.”

They’re just like us—the more I hear this phrase, the more I hate it. It’s the implication behind the surprise that we could somehow find other human beings relatable. My neighbour had come over, a few days before the flood, to say the same thing. “What do you think of all this business?” he’d asked, “It’s just not good. You watch the news and you see them walking around and drinking coffee and you think, ‘they’re just like us!’, and now they’ve got that tyrant coming down on them!”

I stare at my grass while he talks. The first tiktok I’d seen that day was of a tired looking man winding ribbon in his hand, surrounded by bouquets; a florist in Kyiv, staying open while others evacuated. They could be for soldiers to give to their wives and girlfriends, someone comments, optimistically. Flowers mean funerals, my friends, someone else says, underneath it. My neighbour shakes his head in disbelief that people just like us could be facing something so awful. On the news that night, an Australian journalist in Kyiv says beseechingly, “they’re just like us. And now they’re facing a war.”

When I hear that godforsaken phrase for the third time, during the flood, I am holding a bag of greens: cucumbers, tomatoes. Stuff that I got easily, stuff that will keep in the heat, that can be eaten without needing to be cooked. I can drive home, taking a rat-run that avoids the worst of the flooding. There are no winners in a Misery Olympics and I generally take most things in good faith—but there’s something so curiously blind in that one, stupid sentence)

The day drags on without power. I hadn’t realised just how dependant I’d grown on the noise and distraction that was my tablet, my phone, my switch. As it rains on and off, I dig out my sketchbook and draw—doodle, write notes to myself about fics, other projects. Like a missing puzzle piece found under a couch, an idea slips into place about a problem I’d been having—I scrawl it out in barely legible handwriting. R. likes to cook—takes great joy in it, in t—g the time. Taught to us by some—e we resnt.

I try and get as much done by daylight as I can—that night I’m back to making shadow puppets with my torch. I can make a rabbit and a bird with a sharp beak. I have limited reception, at this stage, and about 3% charge on my phone. It takes another percentage just to load the facebook group to see if there’s any updates.

(the first thing I see when it finally loads is a post from when the flood was at it’s worst—a photo of little tuft of land in a sea of brown water, a shipping container towering over a little family of hares, huddled close. “There’s a family of hares stuck on a tiny island at the end of [blank] Drive. Does anyone have a way to help them? A boat? So sad to loose such beautiful creatures,” the poster says.

The comments are filled with outrage. “Shoot ‘em and make hare soup and give it to people doing tough,” one guy says.

“You want someone to risk their life for some pests?” Another asks. This is a farming town—the value of life is black and white. An earlier post had nothing but praise for a young man who ended up diving into the flood waters to help a steer get to high ground. A day earlier, a mother had posted about her daughter’s pet cat and bird, stranded at her father’s. “He’s had to leave them behind,” she explains, “and my girl is devastated. The cat can probably get up high if it needs to, but my daughter is worried about the bird, he’s in a cage. I don’t want anyone to put themselves in danger—no animal’s life is worth a human’s—but if anyone nearby could let me know if the house is close to flooding, I’d appreciate it, just so we know.”

“Pets matter,” someone kind comments. “I live a street over. I can wade in and grab them and keep them at mine until things clear up and your girl can get them.”

“My ex has locked his house so I’m not sure if there’s an easy way in,” the mum explains, the last comment on the post before my phone dies. “but if we could just know if they’re in danger or not—it would be mean a lot to her.”

The ex’s neighbourhood makes the news, a few days later, for a photo of a quad bike, suspended from the power lines, caught there during the water’s peak. When I tell my Dad about the bike, he laughs)

By the time the sun returns in full, I’m burnt out with facebook and it’s pot-shot replies.

“What the fuck are [energy company] doing?” Someone vents. “We’ve been without power for days now, everything in the fridge’s spoilt, they can’t even give us a bloody timeline.”

“Whinging arsehole,” is one of the many similar replies. “Get some pliers and get out there and help them if you think you can do better.”

“At least you have a roof over your head!” Another one says. “You should be grateful! Instead of complaining! Some people don’t know how good they’ve got it! You should be helping people!”

“I have four littlies here at home,” the original poster replies, to one such comment. “They don’t understand why they can’t play their games or why their mum’s so stressed—her work’s gone under. I get that it’s shit for others but I can’t help anyone if I can’t help myself or my family, can I?”

“Could be worse mate,” someone writes. “At least we’re not fighting off an invasion.”

The thread quickly devolves. (“Why the fuck are we sending lethal aid overseas when we can’t even send friendly aid to our own?” Someone starts.

“We need to send more than guns,” someone else retorts. “We need to send soldiers and kick Putin’s arse back to the kremlin!”

“We need to send Doctors,” comes the correction.

“I read the Russian army is marching with mobile crematoriums,” someone else supplies, unhelpfully. At this stage, reading this, I’m just grateful no one’s said they’re just like us)

“[Energy company] have posted they’re flying in more linesmen to help the local crews,” I end up replying, ignoring the War speculation and the pettiness that’s breaking out. “I hope you guys are staying safe over in your neighbourhood. It must be frustrating for everyone in the house.”

Our neighbour two doors down came up to the house when the rain was coming down hard—asking if we were okay, if we needed anything. He has a generator—gas for a barbecue and sausages ready to go, “if you want a hot feed,” he says. What he doesn’t mention is that he also has three kids—lively ones that like to run with their dogs in the paddock behind our stretch of houses, startling the horses that graze on the hill beyond our street and scaring off the kangaroos that sometimes rest there.

I’m touched that he’s come over, getting soaked in the process. His name is Steve and he has an Irish accent and sells fire wood in a side business he runs from the house. When they’re not at each other’s throats, the facebook group is filled with similar offers, or stories—someone sets up a barbecue on the highway. Literally on the highway, feeding the stranded truck drivers and travellers that now find themselves on an island. They do this for days. The managers of both a rotisserie chain and a pizza store get into their shops with skeleton staff and cook what they have, ferrying it out to whoever needs it. “Don’t be shy to ask,” the manager of the pizza place posts. “No matter your circumstances. if I can provide it, I’ll give it.”

“Does anyone have experience with clipping dogs?” Someone asks. “I’ve taken in an older lady with a little Maltese who’ve lost their home—the poor pup in particular needs a decent wash and dematte-ing.”

“If I can get to you, I’ll bring my wagon.” Someone replies. “I run a dog washing service, we’ll get her cleaned up and pretty again.”

The town is now in cleanup mode, even as the floodwater and rain moves down the state.

I woke up early this morning—a neighbour’s rooster has dried out and gotten his courage back. When I sit up to peer out the window to where the world is still blue and cool, there’s an hare—sitting amid the now overgrown grass and picking out the best weeds, the tallest dandelions, eating fast. The little yellow butterflies—moths?—that went missing in the rain have returned, flitting around the hare and the grass. It flicks an ear when one gets too close and all I can think about is that woman’s plea, for the hares trapped by all that floodwater.

Despite that and the trap of of my own thoughts, it’s objectively the start of a beautiful day—the clear sky above us. I stand up and think about a cup of tea and the hare’s ears twitch again, like he can hear the floorboards under my feet. “Sorry mate,” I tell him; he stills and I snort to myself and leave him to his breakfast. His little world, drying up at last.

[greypoth0ts]

it was a pretty long day

T/W: MENTIONS OF PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACK/VOMITTING

Characters: Ushijima(who else) hehe

Note: Yes I am projecting again - these days I just want to dance to LANY with the person I love. :')

It was a pretty long day - you're so worn out from work.

Work was tough, your line of work has always been tough. Not only do you nurture kids, you nurture kids with special needs. On top of teaching, you deal with emotions, tantrums & melt downs. Good days are good. Bad days.. they'll take a toll on you.

Today was tougher on a different level. Chaos in the class. Kids screaming their head off, dealing with meltdown and toileting. Refusing to cooperate, didn't want to do their work. By 3pm you were already flat out exhausted. You just really wanted to call it a day.

You know that days like these are normal. Sometimes you take it in your stride. Sometimes you just let it weigh you down. Today.. today you finished work with anxiety and it almost went onto a full blown panic attack.

"goodbye! see you tomorrow!" you said to your colleagues. Getting out of work on time. Today was just too much to put up with.

Stepping out of school gates, you felt faint. Sick to your stomach even. You tried your best not to throw up. You kept walking until you reached your train station.

"I am leaving workplace now, going to reach home in 30 mins babe." you texted Ushy. It was a Tuesday. So Ushy does not have practice on Tuesdays. He's home, waiting for you to have dinner with him.

"ok babe, waiting for you. I made some steak. Safe journey home. :)" - Ushy replied your text almost immediately.

"I'm not feeling too good, I think work was too much today. I feel like I'm going to throw up" - you replied to Ushy.

You haven't had a panic attack in awhile now. It's been years. You've kept it controlled all these years and also, Ushy played a big part in keeping it controlled. He recognises the signs and immediately helps you to snap out of it when he sees it. He tries to never let you slip into it.

You try to hold it together, your stomach in knots. You really want to throw up but you don't want to be judged. You try to find one thing to focus on. But you just can't keep your focus. You keep walking, walking and walking. It's like even though your body wants to just sprawl on public floor, your muscle memory just kept bringing you through to the train station.

Ushy kept calling. But you left your phone on silent. You were too focused on trying to suppress the attack anyway. There was no way you would be able to string your words even if you picked up the phone.

Ushy at home - worried sick. He's seen you spiral before, it's not a pretty sight. It's a sight that he hates because he is so helpless. He hates seeing you in pain, even if you get a paper cut, he makes a big hoo ha about the small wound. Thats what you love about him. He cares, and he cares so deeply. Hence he made it a point to himself to learn your first signs of panic and stop it just in time before you spiral.

He's considering to come find you and meet you half way. He would've hated if anything happened to you. But he kept his cool. He knew that the best bet is to stay home, to wait for you. He kept pacing up and down the house, he kept calling you. He is imagining the worst scenarios in his head and was on the verge of tears. But Ushijima never gives up, he just kept calling in hopes that you will pick up soon.

You survived the walk to the train station in a piece. Now the peak hour crowed made it worst. Whatever you want to let out is already at the tip. You stopped in your tracks.

Closed your eyes, took a deep breath..... steadied yourself.. and entered the train.

"keep it together, keep it together, am not going to puke in the train" - you thought to yourself repeatedly in the train.

You clench your fist so hard they leave a mark. You were bursting in cold sweat. You tried to keep your focus but you couldn't.

As soon as you turn into your house - you see Ushy at the door, walking towards your direction. Even before you could greet him, you threw up all over the floor. And as he inches closer - you reached out your hand to him, in a way to stop him from coming closer because the vomit will get all over him.

But Ushy didn't give a shit. The person he loved the most was suffering, he wanted to be there to hold you no matter the circumstances.

And you did exactly what you didn't want to - you threw up on Ushy.

"it's okay love, I'm here now. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. Take all the time you need to puke, once you're done, we'll get you cleaned up." - Ushijima reassured you, with his hands on your back, patting you, hoping you feel better.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say sorry. You didn't even get a chance to. You're bent over, puking your guts out. Ushy could only pat your back and look on helplessly.

Once you're done, he took your bag, swung it on his back and princess carried you into the house. You felt better after puking your guts out but you were still in a daze.

He removed his shirt(cos you puked on him), revealing his perfectly chiseled abs. Ah, what a sight.

He then placed you gently on the sofa, went to the kitchen to take some anti nausea meds along with warm water in a flask. Bringing along some warm towels at the same time and cleaned you up.

"I'm sorry Ushy - you must be hungry and tired. But I've burdened you." - you trembled as you said this. Tears rolling down your cheeks.

You felt bad. On the day that Ushy could rest, he had to take care of you.

Gently, Ushy wiped away your tears and held you close to his chest.

"that's what I vowed to do for you - when I married you. was it not clear in my wedding vows? maybe I should rewrite to make it clearer for you." - his voice low, almost with no emotions.

You cackled. But Ushy was serious about this though. He does not understand why you're upset when you are not the issue. However, he fully understood that you had no control over your panic attacks and when he asked for your hand in marriage, he has vowed fiercely to love you and take care of you, whatever comes.

You couldn't help but feel like you're the luckiest girl to be loved by the Ushijima Wakatoshi. The ace of Japan, where he has all the girls swooning over him but he only has eyes for you. And here you are, lying on his chest. Sharing a home with him, and what a privilege it is to be loved by him.

"I am sorry - I will do better next time. I wasn't there to stop your panic attack this time round, but I will do my best.. to never let it happen again." - this took you by surprise. Why is he blaming himself over something the both of you have no control over?

You gently placed your hands on his face, thumbs circling his cheeks. "this was not your fault at all, please don't apologise. You've done so much for me. And I haven't had an attack in awhile now. Do you know why? It's all thanks to you. You always manage to detect it before I spiral. I can function almost at 90% because of you, Ushijima. Please don't ever think that you're not doing enough." - you assured him.

He nodded and kissed your forehead.

"you know what will make it all better?" - you asked Ushy.

He raised an eyebrow - "what is it, y/n? tell me and I will get it done."

"Put on my favourite album from LANY, let's dim the lights and slow dance.. it'll make me feel 100% better in no time."

"consider it done" - Ushy replied firmly.

He wasted no time in getting it done. Ushy dimmed the lights, lighted up your favourite scent of candle & put the music on.

"may I?" as he extended his arms.

"I would love to." you held onto his arms, standing up.

He held you close, your head on his chest. Feeling safe, secure and loved.

Enjoying this special moment that you both share. A love so deep.. the ocean is jealous.

reblogs & likes welcome! requests open :)

[alicemitch09writes]

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

  He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

[pixieungerstories]

Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole.  1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions.  Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth.  I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off.  None of the windows were smashed.  There were mature fruit trees in the backyard.  If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential.  The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced.  The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did.  It had a boiler.  I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning.  And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler.  The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them.  It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually.  It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house.  I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make.  I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound.  The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul.  Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen.  Not exciting, but satisfying.  Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access.  Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse.  I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in.  I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it.  The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch.  It was fine.  I understood completely.  I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all. 

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine.  I was young and healthy.  I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever?  I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight.  I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips.  I was so fucking thirsty. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me.  Chicken noodle out of a can.  It’s not that hard to make.  I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep.  Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night.  I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card.  So was the mattress and sheets.  It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them.  I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom?  I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors.   I must be losing my mind.  I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work.  I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down.  I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not.  I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.  

The watched feeling was worse.  I ordered some rat traps with my groceries.  I didn’t catch anything.  They didn’t take the bait.  I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning.  That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself.  Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud.  “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure.  “At least it is some sound,” I muttered.  “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback.  I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms.  The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks.  When I needed to actually go out, that might help.  In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind.  Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet.  Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.”  Shit.  I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily.  I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early.  In the morning there were footprints in the dust.  They weren’t mine.  They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human.  Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside.  I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house.  I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?”  I called from the doorway, ready to run.  I had no idea where I could even run to.  “Um…  Is anyone there?”  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Hi?  Um ….  I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here.  I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck.  The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting.  “I … uh…  I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here?  Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit.  That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said.  Oh.  “No, that was an accident.  I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that.  I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette.  I hadn’t smoked in years.    The sun started to go down and the bugs came out.  I was being eaten alive outside.  Going inside was scary but he was right.  He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door.  “Did you order furniture on my credit card?”  I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy.  I shivered and thought about going back outside.  The door pulled itself closed behind me.  I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything.  I could hear something breathing. I turned again.  Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear.  Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now.  “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence.  Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room.  I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing.  I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate.  I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon.  “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet.  “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief.  I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now.  You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove.  My breakfast dishes were gone.  I found them clean and dry in the cupboard.  “Thank you,” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet.  The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating.  Or washing and drying the dishes.  I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor.  Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there.  I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it.  It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me.  I spun, there was nothing there.  “Do not open that door.  Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant.  I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again.  I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on.  Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen.  I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big.  He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong.  I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped.  “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows.  Go to bed.”

“Um…  I was thinking, that should be your room, really.  Your closet.  You picked out the bed.  I can just camp down -”

“No.  Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened?  I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I.  The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out.  “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that.  “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me?  What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep.  You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?”  he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”  

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one.  Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six.  It had been turned off.  The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs.  The air smelled faintly of solder.  There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker.  Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly.  I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home.  The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom.  I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone. 

Well, not gone.  I could see it installed through the holes in the walls.  I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water.  I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out.  Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months.  I tried all the taps and the toilet.  Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.”  It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker.  Nothing happened.  I growled as I plugged it in.  The power went out.

“Oh come on!  Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.”  It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t.  I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window.  The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days.  I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too.  Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it.  I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh!  Dude!  You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath.  “OK.  Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue.  “Do you?  Eat I mean.  Do you eat?  What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me.  I am not going to eat you.  Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden.  I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself.  The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie.  I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started.  Right! I thought.  Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends.  Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out.  That was just a thing now.  My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me.  That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others.  I hit the mute button.  “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you.  What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled.  I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago.  Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks.  Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go.  It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah.  Good night.”  After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat.  “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear.  I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed.  Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me.  The hands on my arms were cool and smooth.  “What are you?”

“I am me.  I have not asked your name.  You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail.  And my credit card.  You know my name,”  I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try.  “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side.  The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer.  The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.  

I sat frozen.  “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down.  I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”  

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut.  I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs.  I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix.  This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache.  I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

[candychronicles]

quarantine // k. bakugou

A/N: this is my take on the kink experimentation bnharem server collab! hope you enjoy!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,534

WARNINGS: face-fucking, pegging, smacking, dom reader, implied knife play

SYNOPSIS: being stuck in quarantine is not easy, especially for heros who are so used to being active. in order to help your anxious boyfriend, you hatch a plan, one that will allow him to be relaxed while delving into your desires.

Want to enjoy more kinks? Head on over the the masterlist! 

things had taken a turn for the worse: people were getting sick, people were dying, over a novel virus. panic had settled in thick as the world raced to gain control of the situation. many had begun to hoard things like toilet paper and hand sanitizer, while many simply ignored what was going on and continued to party the night away.

strict protocols were put in place to curb the spread of the virus like closures or revisions of rules over places like restaurants and bowling alleys, gatherings of 100, 50, then 10 or more were prohibited, guidelines and updates were constantly being blasted so people could stay aware of what was going on. eventually, it came to a point where stay in place orders were mandated and eventually enforced. nobody was allowed to go in and out, distribution of food and water were manned by national guards, and only the most essential of workers, like police and government employees were allowed out of the house. 

the only other exception to the rule were pro-heros, who were invited to news, police, fire stations to report the facts and quell anxiety about the virus. villains were still flooding the streets, even more so with quiet streets and empty buildings, and with police and national guards being split so thin to begin with to care for the citizens, pro-heros were forced to take in an extra workload.

however, things with the virus only continued to get worse, and as more and more villains congregated with their newfound freedom, many got sick and decided that their life wasn’t worth galavanting around. and so the time of needing an influx of pro-heros dwindled out and with that came shifts, just enough to keep the peace and help where it was needed without risking any spread. even though these men and women were heros, many were still susceptible to illness and it was important to take precautions as much as possible. 

this meant that Bakugou was stuck inside, subjected to the same punishments as anyone else who tried to leave the house without good reason. it would be another three weeks before it was his turn to work again and you could feel the frustration boiling under his skin. you had attempted to console him, to get him to relax, but his energy was too much and your words were fruitless.

your brain had worked tirelessly to attempt to figure out what you could do to help. he needed something different, something that would stimulate him enough to release his energy while also keeping within quarantine guidelines, something that would make him feel alive within these four walls. with those thoughts in mind, your body moved of its own accord, padding around your small house, attempting to find something that would help.

massage? no, he wouldn’t sit still long enough for that. working out? no, he does that every day. 

just as you were about to give up all hope, you stumbled upon your box of toys Bakugou had used the other night on you. all sorts of fun things were in there and each one got plenty of use. while he prided himself on being more than enough to satisfy you, he was more than happy to experiment and have fun.

hmm, experiment? 

that one thought sent you spiraling. you wouldn’t be able to get any new toys, and a new sex position was boring enough. a new kink needed to be experimented with. it was backbreaking work to get Bakugou to listen to you in the bedroom, but you knew with the right tools, combined with his frustration, it just might work. 

your plan was thankfully enacted only a few short hours later. Bakugou, finishing a shower, had exited the bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low over his hips, his happy trail curly and glistening from the water on his body. you had found your favorite orange lingerie, the color similar to his hero costume, lacy in all the right places and hugging your frame deliciously. 

“well, well, well, what do we have here?” you heard his husky voice approach you, tracing his finger appreciatively over the fabric.

“what we have here is a stress reliever. i know you’ve been anxious about being pent up in here. so have i, so i figured we might have a little bit of fun tonight, try something new.”

you stood up slowly, the fabric rustling as you reached up to cup his face in your hand, bringing your lips together in a soft kiss. you began backing him up to the bed until his knees hit the mattress and he sat down with a soft thud. you followed his body, pushing him back until he was flat on his back, crawling over him, feeling the hardness of his cock through the towel that was dangerously close to falling off.

you positioned yourself so you were level with his eyes, leaning down to ghost your lips over his ear, whispering, “do you remember our safe word?”

he nodded in response, too lost on the way you felt on top of him.

“good, because you’re going to need it.”

you got up without warning, reaching towards the bottom of the bed where you pulled out your toys, skimming your fingers over the various rubber and plastic figures, hand settling on a bottle of lube.

“what are you up to?” he asked, unusually meek sounding.

“do you trust me?”

“yes,” he responded instantly, breath hitched as he watched you continue to rummage around the box, pulling out both the blindfold and a long forgotten strap on, something that you had kept hidden for quite some time and never had the chance to use it. but tonight, tonight you would ravish your boyfriend.

you only nodded out in response as you brought the items over, dropping them on the bed unceremoniously. 

“sit up,” you commanded, crooking a finger towards Bakugou.

he obliged without question, though his face looked like he had a thousand he wanted to ask. you pulled the blindfold slowly over his eyes, running your fingers up through his hair as you straddled him, effectively removing the towel from his waist, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his neck, biting and sucking as you went along.

Bakugou was unusually quiet, only breathing heavily. you placed a hand over his heart and felt that it was racing.

“are you okay? do you want me to stop?”

“fuck no. i mean, yes, shit, i’m okay,” he answered.

you only hummed in response, continuing your worship of his body, feeling the way his pulse jumped as you bit down on a sensitive point on his neck. you pushed him back down again on the bed, this time adjusting him so his head was on a pillow and his body was fully laying down. when he was fully settled, you adjusted yourself so you were straddling his head, lingerie pulled to the side and cunt dripping in anticipation of what was about to go down.

“i need to hear you beg,” you stated simply, looking down to see his reaction.

“i think i should be telling you that,” he retorted with a cheeky grin.

“oh no sweetheart. i can take care of myself better than you, i think.”

with that statement in mind, one of your hands found its way to your cunt, experimentally flicking your aching bud, collecting the juices and going back in, harsher this time. your whines and the sloshing sounds of your pussy were all the indication Bakugou needed to know what you were doing. he brought one hand up to attempt to bring you down but you swatted it away, continuing to tease him as you teased yourself.

“no touching. not until i hear you beg.”

you whined at the feeling of your own fingers against your clit, rocking yourself to create more friction.

when Bakugou scoffed and tried again, you slapped his face, hard.

“i said beg.”

if you were able to see Bakugou’s eyes, you would’ve known that his pupils were blown wide with lust and desire. while he often wanted, no needed, to take control, this was nice, he had to admit.

“yes, mistress. please let me taste you, please,” you heard him, a whiney undertone to his sultry tone.

you immediately lowered yourself onto his face, murmuring how good of a boy he was as you felt his tongue lick up all your slick. his hands came experimentally up to your waist, wanting to see if you would swat him away, but when you only encouraged him, he gripped tighter, almost as if you were his anchor.

you continued to ride his face, praising him and yelping his name, getting lost in your own high. with one swift slap to your ass, he commanded you to cum and you did, leaking all over his face. he licked up every inch, hungry as a dog for your essence.

when you came down from your high, you tutted, upset at how he flipped the situation around so easily. you removed yourself from his face as he pulled off the blindfold, hair wild from you grabbing it.

“get on all fours,” you commanded, eyes blazing fiercely in the dim light from the bathroom that he forgot to turn off.

“what? why?”

“if you want to act like a dog, barking out commands, acting like you’re starving for my pussy, then you’ll get fucked like a dog. on all fours, now.”

when he didn’t comply immediately, you yanked his body to the edge of the bed, flipping his body over and sticking his ass in the air. Bakugou was too dumbfounded to realize what was going on, not even realizing that you had the strength to manhandle him, but before he could regain his composure, he felt something warm and sticky on his asshole.

you had warmed up the lube in your fingers around his ass, watching as the hole puckered around nothing. slowly, you inserted one finger, watching for signs of pain, but all you saw was a confused yet extremely pleased face. experimentally, you crooked the finger around, in and out, watching as Bakugou’s breath quickened and his hands fisted the sheets.

you pulled your finger out, smirking as he whined at the loss of your digit but quickly realized what was coming as you began inserting two fingers back into his fluttering hole. he gritted his teeth at the intrusive feeling but quickly relaxed as you continued to pump in and out of him, scissoring to loosen him up, applying more lube to keep things safe and pleasurable.

once you were satisfied with your work, you removed your fingers, wiping them haphazardly on the sheets, not caring. right now, you were too excited about what you were going to do to your boyfriend. he looked so innocent, eyes boring pleadingly into your own. you were so used to being dominated, tossed around like a ragdoll, and though you never really complained because Bakugou always took care of you, it was an exhilarating feeling to be in control of someone usually so stubborn and hard headed.  

you lubed up the strap on, warming it up in your hands. it felt awkward on your body, but you took a few experimental thrusts in the air and got the hang of it quite quickly. 

“hurry up already and fuck me,” Bakugou half pleaded half demanded.

without hesitation, you raised your palm and smacked his ass, hearing him hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“you’ll get fucked, don’t you worry.”

slowly, you lined the tip up to his ass, watching as he shook it in the air, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. you pushed the tip towards his waiting hole, feeling immediate resistance.

“relax baby. i’ll take care of you, i promise.”

you continued to push, making sure to take your time, until you felt the strap on bottom out, sinking into his gaping hole. amazement crossed your face as you watched the fake dick slide in and out of him, as you watched Bakugou clench up and then release all the tension in his body. soft whines and pants were heard from your boyfriend and you watched as he began thrusting himself back on your cock.

“i’ll go faster if i hear you beg,” you cooed, tracing your fingers down his back and over the curve of his ass, smacking it once more and then soothingly rubbing circles over the now red skin.

“fu-ugh, nnh please fuck me. please fuck me so hard (y/n), mistress, ma’am, fuck, i’ll call you whatever, just fuck me.”

you arched your brows in shock over hearing your boyfriend beg so freely, but who were you to deny a pretty man with a pretty ass? picking up your pace, you began slamming into Bakugou again, telling him how good he was doing, how pretty he was, how good he felt.

he seemed to appreciate the words, whining and stuttering through his emotions, too caught up in his own pleasure to be able to string coherent sentences together. you continued to thrust in and out, building up a sweat but enjoying the sounds and sights of your boyfriend being demolished to even really notice. you felt him tense up, his whines getting louder, and with a cry, he came, sticky ropes of cum shooting out onto the sheets. he collapsed on the bed not soon after, too spent to even care about laying in his own load.

you carefully pulled out, watching as his hole puckered and clenched around the sudden emptiness. you removed the strap on, throwing it on the floor and crawling onto your boyfriend, laying your slick body on his own.

“how was that?” you asked, hopeful yet concerned.

“s’fucking good,” he mumbled back, still reeling from what had just happened.

once he gained his breath back and his senses, you clambered off of him and plopped down, too tired to care. he got on all fours and slowly climbed over to you, pulling you into a searing kiss, murmuring his thanks against your lips.

when he pulled away, you saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes that meant he was up to no good. you gulped in anticipation, waiting with baited breath for what he was about to say.

“you know princess, you really surprised me tonight. hell, i even surprised myself. but tomorrow, tomorrow i will get back at you.” 

you looked up at him through hooded lids, lashes batting innocently as you pondered what he had in store.

“i know you’ve asked before if we could try some riskier kinks. i’ve been hesitant because i wasn’t sure you could handle it, but after tonight, i know better. you showed me tonight that i belonged to you,” he started, chuckling at the thought,” but tomorrow, i’ll carve my fucking name into your back, just so you’ll know that you really belong to me.”

your pussy clenched immediately at the thought, eyes open wide at his suggestion. sure, you had fantasized about, er, riskier kinks but never had you thought he would agree. maybe, you thought, maybe this quarantine won’t be such a bad thing.

TAGS: @redbeanteax​ @softforshigi​

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[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part three

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at.

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

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***

Luna’s Great Escape

It’s been two days since Ryan last saw Harry in her doorway, and she’s grateful for the rainstorm that’s been plaguing north central London ever since he left her heart racing that afternoon. The rain hasn’t stopped roaring, presumably ruining Jackson’s playtime in the park, allowing Ryan a short period of time to catch her breath.

She’s spent the past two days in a bit of a drunken stupor. After Harry uttered those words to her in the hallway before entering his own flat, Ryan ripped open the parcel and finished her work for the day, sending over her inspections and adjustments to her supervisor in a daze before the clock struck five. Afterward, she tore off her flannel pajama bottoms and shoved them into the depths of her drawer to hopefully never be seen again, traipsing into her bathroom to turn the tub on, a few bottles of Carlsberg nestled tightly under her armpit.

It’s not that Ryan was avoiding her feelings, because she truly didn’t understand them. After two beers, she came to the conclusion that the bubbling in her gut and the warmth on her cheeks, the fluttering of her heart and the pinch in her breath—was all due to the fact that she found Harry annoyingly attractive.

Ryan’s no stranger to attractive men. Her awkwardness practically disappears after a few shots of tequila have settled into her bloodstream, allowing her to hold a conversation with a handsome man without the overwhelming urge to stutter over her words or shift in her heeled boots from nervousness. Most times, in her debilitated state, she’s gotten lucky with a quick shag and a fumbling exit hidden under the darkness of the night. But now, as she sits in her bathtub nursing her fourth beer, a Kiehl’s face mask hardened over her skin, she’s not sure how much alcohol she would need to consume in order to appear seemingly normal in front of Harry.

That was last night. Now, as her hangover starts to settle in, Ryan’s decided that she needs advice. The brutally honest kind that usually fell unapologetically from the lips of her best mate Fiona. 

“So let me get this straight, your new neighbor just so happens to be fit as all hell, and you’ve had a handful of conversations with him without making a complete fool of yourself, and you still haven’t shagged him? What am I missing here, Ry?” Fiona’s voice calls out from Ryan’s mobile that’s leaning against her porcelain fruit bowl, the camera angle allowing her to be able to see Fiona while attempting to cook some sort of pasta dish to cure the throbbing in her head.

“Fee, I got fucking rug burn on my knee from tripping over my own bloody feet the first time I met him!” Ryan recalls, the memory causing her head to shake aggressively, trying her hardest to expel it from her brain.

“Well, I did say complete fool,” Fiona retorts, causing Ryan to roll her eyes as she tries her hardest to follow the vodka sauce recipe she found on Pinterest. She’s eyeing the heavy cream she just added to the saucepan, wondering if the color should be pinker.

“I think it’s for the best if I just continue avoiding him for the rest of my life,” Ryan says, opening the box of ziti and throwing it into the boiling pot on the back left burner. 

She can hear Fiona laugh over the hiss of the water. “Stop with the dramatics! You’re starting to sound like me.”

Ryan just ignores her friend, stirring the sauce that’s starting to smell. She instantly reaches for the parmesan cheese, adding more aimlessly to change the viscosity into something that doesn’t resemble broth. 

“This could be great for you, Ry,” Fiona says through the screen once Ryan’s reappeared in front of her.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ryan asks, a bit distracted with the way the saucepan on the hob begins to gurgle inconspicuously.

“Because he’s fit. And he literally lives right next door. This is fantastic news! You can get laid without even leaving your building! Especially during quarantine with the entire city on lockdown!” While Ryan loves her friend, she hates the way Fiona says certain words, her voice level rising with each stressed syllable. She’s speaking so loudly that Ryan thinks back to how Harry referred to hearing Mrs. Bingsley banging about in the kitchen when she used to live in this unit, and immediately Ryan lowers the volume on her mobile, grabbing it from its spot against the fruit bowl and turning into her living room to be as far away from the thin walls as possible.

“I’m not sleeping with him, Fiona. I literally just met him,” Ryan says, sitting on the arm rail of her couch, watching Luna in her periphery continue sleeping soundly against the throw pillows. 

“But you want to.”

Ryan stays silent, wondering if that’s what the bubbling and fluttering and pinching of all her insides means. Wondering if all of these feelings can simply be associated to sexual attraction.

“Why don’t you knock on his door and ask for a plunger or something?” Fiona says, breaking the silence. Ryan instantly disagrees, her eyes widening in fear.

“No, that’s a terrible idea! I don’t want him to think I’ve clogged up my fucking toilet,” Ryan shrieks, knowing that move would definitely work on a girl like Fiona—confident, unrelenting, and fearless. But for a girl like Ryan, whose cheeks turn red whenever a boy like Harry even looks in her direction, she knows there’s no way she can handle that.

Fiona sighs. “You’re probably right.” 

Before Ryan can respond, the blaring sound of the smoke detector going off from the kitchen interrupts her thoughts. “Shit!” she screeches, jumping up from her seated position and running into the kitchen, her mobile clutched in her fist as she approaches the stovetop. The saucepan with the once pinkish-red sauce has now turned black, the edges burnt to a crisp, smoke rising from the top because Ryan forgot to lower the heat to a simmer. The pot with the pasta has boiled over, water falling onto the burner with a loud fizzle. “Fuck!”

“Christ, Ryan! Only you can burn fucking pasta!” Fiona shouts through her mobile, and Ryan immediately discards the device on the countertop, flicking the burners off. She reaches for the dishtowel near the sink, waving it under the smoke detector to make the incessant noise cease.

“It won’t fucking stop!” Ryan bellows, switching the towel to her left arm. If Harry didn’t hear her before, he definitely heard her now, and the thought is enough to make her wave her arms frantically, praying for the smoke detector to shut off.

“Open the front door, get some airflow in the flat, you twit! Twenty-seven and still can’t cook a bloody meal, it’s a shock how you’ve survived this long on your own—”

Ryan doesn’t stay in the kitchen long enough to hear the rest of Fiona’s comment. Instead, she’s spinning on her heels towards her front door, opening it up partly in hope to get the smell of burnt food out of her flat.

Just as she walks back into the kitchen, the beeping finally stops, and Ryan feels as if she can finally breathe again. Her cheeks are stained red from the exertion of flailing her arms about, the stray hairs from her low ponytail sticking to the nape of her neck uncomfortably. She takes in the state of her kitchen, annoyed with herself that she got too preoccupied with Fiona’s ramblings instead of focusing on cooking her pathetic meal.

“Have you died?” The sound echoes from the countertop where Ryan left her mobile, and for a moment Ryan forgets that Fiona was waiting for her. She saunters over slowly, leaning her mobile on the toaster oven so that she can rest her bent elbows on the countertop, her hands falling over her cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Knew I should’ve gone with the boxed mac and cheese,” Ryan mumbles, catching her breath.

Fiona laughs. “I appreciate the attempt, Jamie Oliver. You’ve probably scared Luna half to death, poor thing.” 

At the mention of her kitten’s name, Ryan immediately swivels her head around to the living room, eyes falling to the spot on the couch her white British Shorthair was just occupying. But when she looks closer, she realizes that Luna is gone.

She quickly stands up straight, telling Fiona she’ll call her back before ending the FaceTime call, entering the living room to search every nook and cranny for her kitten. Luna’s small body is nowhere near the couch or armchairs, her cat tree is empty, and when Ryan takes a look in her bedroom and finds absolutely nothing, she’s suddenly filled with fear at the fact that her kitten has disappeared.

Before Ryan can have a full-blown meltdown at the loss of her meal and kitten in the span of ten minutes, she hears the faint echo of a meow from the other side of her front door. A tiny giggle follows after, and suddenly Ryan’s head is peering out into the hallway, falling on the sight of Luna laying on the carpet with her tummy up in the air, and Jackson’s small hands rubbing soothing circles in her fur.

“What would your dad say about you leaving the flat without him?” Ryan calls out from her doorframe, watching the way Jackson’s face lights up when he realizes it is her speaking to him.

“Daddy will probably be mad. But I heard the kitty outside when I was playing! I didn’t know you had one!” He’s smiling so wide it causes Ryan to immediately do the same, despite her borderline breakdown a few moments prior. She trots over towards the pair, crouching down in front of them and balancing on the heels of her socked-clad heels, watching the way Luna purrs at Jackson’s soft strokes.

“I do. This is Luna,” Ryan answers, grinning when Jackson begins cooing at the tiny animal.

“Hi Luna, I’m Jackson. You’re so soft.” He’s whispering to her and Ryan isn’t quite sure why, and when Luna suddenly flips over and sits on Jackson’s lap, Ryan feels her heart swell at the sight of two tiny things cuddling up to one another.

The silence is broken by a gruff, frustrated voice. “Jackson! You can’t keep runnin’ off—oh.”

Three pairs of different colored eyes look up at the intrusion, and suddenly Harry’s anger dissipates at the sight of his son holding a cute kitten in his lap. A cute kitten that just so happens to belong to his even cuter neighbor who he seemingly can’t stop thinking about.

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at. 

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

Ryan just smiles shyly, swallowing harshly when Harry crosses his arms over his broad chest, his large palms cupping his bulging biceps under the thin material of his shirt. She coughs into her fist, realizing now that she probably should stand up from her crouched position so that she’s no longer staring up at him underneath the cover of her eyelashes.

“Daddy look! Ryan has a kitty!” Jackson squeals, his cheek squished against Luna’s tiny face as he pets behind her ears, causing her whole body to vibrate with a deep purr.

Harry looks between Luna and Ryan, that slow smirk grazing his lips that causes Ryan’s cheeks to burn with a deep blush. “I can see that, Bubs.” His voice is so deep Ryan can feel it settle into her bones, and suddenly she wishes her hair wasn’t tied behind her head in a ponytail so that she could hide her reddened cheeks under the deep brown tendrils. 

Before she can speak, a loud whistle from Harry’s flat breaks the silence. His upper body shifts away from the doorframe so that he’s standing straight, arms falling back to his sides as he peers behind the entranceway to ensure that the steam is blowing from the spout of the kettle on the hob.

“Fancy some tea, Ryan?” Harry asks once he’s turned back in her direction. 

Ryan quickly stumbles to stand upright, wiping her sweaty palms on her cotton biker shorts. An oversized band tee she stole from her ex-boyfriend swishes with her hasty movements, and she can feel her head shaking before her mouth can say no.

“Uh, I’m okay. Don’t want to impose or anything,” she stutters, the sound of her thick woolen mid-calf socks scuffling against the carpeting with her incessant shuffling due to the influx of nerves that begin creeping up her spine.

“Please, Ryan? I can play with Luna! I’m a great sitter,” Jackson proclaims loudly from his seated position behind her. Once again, Ryan finds herself struggling to say no to her new friend with just one look into his beady green eyes. With nothing but a small smile, Ryan’s nodding in Jackson’s direction, her grin growing larger when he scoops up Luna in his little arms, ducking past his father and entering the flat.

Harry chuckles, holding the door open a bit wider so that Ryan can follow him inside.

She’s watching as he ducks into the kitchen, shutting off the burner so that the whistling kettle can quiet down. Ryan watches Jackson plop Luna on the soft emerald rug, laying on his stomach so that he can observe her every move. After guaranteeing that her kitten is in good hands, Ryan enters the kitchen, settling on one of the dark leather barstools and watching Harry grab two tea mugs from the cabinet above the sink.

As his arm extends to reach the top shelf, Ryan can’t help but take note of the contrast between his right and left arm. His left arm was ornamented with various black etchings, flowing across his skin in a strange way that somehow looked beautiful. When Ryan watches his right arm reach out to grab the tea bags, the untouched skin practically blinding against the harsh overhead lights, she feels her throat suddenly dry up—and she’s left wondering if she should add this to her growing list of symptoms she feels whenever she’s around Harry.

“Sugar? Milk?” Harry asks, his back still to her as he rummages around the drawers to prepare their tea. 

“Sure.” She’s distracted by the way his thin t-shirt practically hides nothing, the ebb and flow of his back muscles constricting with each gentle movement he makes as he grasps the sugar from the counter and grips the milk from the fridge.

When he turns to meet her at the kitchen island, he clutches both mugs in one hand, the other holding both the sugar jar and milk carton. Ryan’s forced to look away, her mind completely fogging over at the site.

The sound of the ceramic mugs clinking against the granite counter causes Ryan to look up, smiling softly when he pushes the tea in her direction. Just before her hands can clasp around the handle, she regards the black script tattoo above the crook of his elbow, the words Jackson in lowercase lettering make her breath hitch in her throat.

“How have you been, all right?” Harry asks from across the island, reaching for the milk and adding a generous amount to the murky tea. His eyes are busy focusing on the task at hand, and Ryan can finally feel herself calm down a bit.

“Yeah, been okay. You?” she responds, blowing a bit on her tea before bringing the mug to her lips, swallowing deeply and reveling in the taste of the brew. Harry’s eyebrows arch when he notices that she takes her tea black, but he doesn’t make a comment about it, choosing instead to rest his forearms on the counter, pushing his mug a bit closer towards Ryan’s as he leans against the island, infiltrating her personal space just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, okay. Bit shit with the weather, though. Jackson’s been going crazy,” he comments, his mouth far too distracting when he licks the spilled over tea on his lower lip. Ryan flicks her head over in Jackson’s direction, thankful that she can look at something other than Harry’s stupidly good-looking face.

Ryan hums in agreement, bringing the tea back to her lips as she swivels back in her stool, her eyes back on Harry’s. 

“That cat of yours will give him another reason to talk about you for hours,” Harry says with a grin.

“If it weren’t for his knack of sneaking out of your flat, Luna probably would have ended up on the seventh floor. Guess I owe him a proper thank you,” Ryan counters, smiling at the fact that she made Harry laugh.

“Little shit never listens to me,” Harry says lightly, and Ryan suddenly wonders if he has any help looking after Jackson.

She starts to look around the kitchen for any hints of a feminine touch. The state of his flat is disgustingly clean, and when she observes the fridge to see if there are any photographs of Jackson’s mum, she’s found that there’s nothing but artwork most likely done by the hands of a four-year-old.

When she shifts her head to the other side of the room, where the kitchen flows into the living room, she doesn’t really find anything new. The walls are still filled with records, the instruments are still lining the walls, the couch is still void of throw pillows. Ryan tries to visualize the entranceway, trying her hardest to remember if she noticed any heeled boots or women’s jackets on the coat rack.

She hasn’t known Harry long, barely a month at this point, and in that short period of time she’s never heard him speak about a woman before. Ryan’s not stupid—she knows that both sexes are needed to produce a child—but she’s truly never seen a woman enter or exit Harry’s flat.

Granted, it’s only been a month. And she isn’t really sure if she can call him her friend yet, therefore she feels a bit odd in asking. Ryan’s come to the conclusion that maybe Jackson’s mum is an essential worker, a nurse perhaps, a profession in which she has the luxury of leaving her home to go to work.

“Ryan?” Harry’s oaky voice breaks Ryan out of her headspace, and suddenly she’s blinking in Harry’s direction, embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t listening to anything he had just said to her in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” she responds lamely, bringing the mug to her lips with the goal of hiding the lower half of her flushed cheeks.

Harry just laughs, cocking his head to the side to observe her intently. “Doesn’t matter. Lost you for a minute in there.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” Ryan responds, wishing Harry would stop looking at her as if she were the most fascinating creature on the planet. 

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asks quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to know every little thing about her.

Ryan’s eyes squint in confusion. “Does what happen?”

“That,” Harry starts, taking a sip of his tea without tearing his eyes away from Ryan’s. “You getting lost in your own head.”

Ryan quietly contemplates Harry’s comment, watching the way he watches her with intrigue. As a serial overthinker, Ryan knows that she retreats sometimes, mulling over her words intensely before speaking. Unlike Fiona who blurts every thought that runs through her head, Ryan’s always been more critical, obsessing over every detail before verbalizing. It’s the only thing that helps subdue her social anxiety.

But she’s found that whenever she’s around Harry, she can’t bring herself to think about anything, really. It’s as if her mind is blank, encouraging her to speak what she truly feels, without all the thinking that usually comes along with it.

She’s not quite sure what that all means.

So she just shrugs, sipping softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Harry nods before changing the subject, which makes Ryan feel relieved. “So, my quiet, reclusive neighbor is also a cat lady? It’s far too fitting, Ryan.” He’s teasing her a bit and it’s enough to make Ryan giggle, the sound practically causing Harry to splutter his tea over the rim of his mug. 

“I’m all about clichés, clearly,” Ryan responds, her eyes zeroing in on the hollow dimples that appear around his mouth whenever he laughs. She finds herself enjoying the sight very much.

“She’s cute,” Harry says, his eyes shifting from Luna to the woman sitting across from him. Ryan assumes he’s talking about her kitten, and she smiles, swiveling around in her chair to watch Jackson giggle whenever Luna’s paws graze his arms. But when she feels Harry’s gaze on her cheek, she’s wondering if he’s talking about something else, too.

“He’s good with her,” Ryan acknowledges, impressed with how gentle Jackson was with Luna. Most toddlers his age were too handsy with her, scaring her off before she even got the chance to get used to them. But Jackson is proving to be a natural, allowing Luna to grow comfortable around him before he started playing with her.

Harry finally looks over to his son, smiling at the sight in the living room. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

Ryan turns round to face Harry again. “He really is. Guess he has you to thank for that. And his mum, I suppose.”

Harry’s face suddenly loses its grin, and Ryan’s wondering if she’s said too much. His eyes have lost their shine, and the granite countertop seems to be more interesting than Ryan’s face. Before she can say anything, an apology or some version of one, the computer in the corner of the living room begins to ring loudly, causing Harry to stand upright and peer at the clock on the microwave screen.

“Shit. Forgot I had a four o’clock meeting,” he says quickly, gathering his mug in one hand and crossing the threshold so that he’s entering the living room space. Ryan stands up, frowning down at her half-emptied cup of tea, wondering what blend Harry uses because it’s just that good, and she’s a bit sad to leave it unfinished.

Harry turns around, catching the frown on Ryan’s face. “You can finish it at yours if you’d like,” he offers with a small smile. 

“Oh, no it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to—”

“—Ryan,” Harry says, cutting her off and walking towards her so that he’s fully in her line of vision, “It’s fine. ‘S not like I don’t know where you live.” The smirk is back on his face and the blush is back coating Ryan’s cheeks, and suddenly the balance has been restored in their small universe.

Ryan nods, clutching the mug tightly in her hands and side-stepping Harry in order to reach Jackson and Luna on the living room floor. “‘M sorry, champ, but Luna and I have got to go.”

“Really?” Jackson says, tearing his eyes away from Luna and onto the two adults standing in front of him. He’s frowning and Ryan instantly feels bad.

“Yeah, Bubs, daddy’s got work to do. I’m sure you can see Luna again very soon, if Ryan’s okay with it,” Harry says, causing two pairs of green eyes to fall onto her frame.

She nods quickly, crouching down in front of her small friend and grabbing Luna in her unoccupied hand. “Of course, champ. We’ll schedule a playdate.”

Jackson grins enthusiastically, wiggling on the floor with excitement. Before Ryan can respond, Harry appears in front of her, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Ryan,” he mutters in a low timbre.

“Bye, Harry. Thanks again for the tea,” she responds, heading towards the doorway in her socks and leaving the confines of his flat, trying her hardest to catch her breath in the silence of the empty hallway.

It’s only once she’s back in her own flat, her sad attempt of dinner disposed of in the bin and in its place an oversized bowl of cereal in one hand, with Harry’s mug in the other, Ryan comes to a startling realization.

Harry’s tea mug was a far better alternative than the fucking plunger.

*** A/N: Hi guys, here’s part three of you feel like home! I hope you enjoyed it. Part four will be posted on Thursday November 19, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light​ @onlyphysicallypresent​ @dontwanttobealone​ @justsaying20​ @elemayox​ @awomanindeniall​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum​ @kakayam​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @hopelessly-harry​ @ficnarry​ @morethanamelodyy​ @niallgolden​ @harryswinterberries​ @caramello-styles

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 29

; Hoseok x Reader

;Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Warnings: Discussions of periods and contraception

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I know it’s taking a long time for me to update this but I hope you enjoy it :D Please reblog if you do and let me know what you think my commenting on this or sending me an ask!

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Hey, meeps,” You hear Hoseok’s voice calling to you from the end of the aisle, his new nickname for you now gaining its own nickname as well. “If sunflower oil is made from sunflowers, and coconut oil is made from coconuts...then baby oil…”

He trails off, raising his eyebrows and giving you a scandalous look as he holds up a bottle of baby oil. For a moment, you just stare at him blankly before sighing and rolling your eyes in amusement. Taking the bottle from him, you place it back down onto the shelf before linking your arm through his.

Thankfully, he lets you direct him back to the little section they have in this makeup and skincare store that’s fully dedicated to Korean beauty. This is one of those strange stores where they have tons of products that are basically on sale yet also have branded stuff alongside it. Not that you cared though; it had the Korean brands you swore by for your skin and you were more than tempted to try out the Japanese beauty stand next to it.

For someone who isn’t particularly bothered about the whole concept of skincare, though you had managed to convince him to at least improve his routine, Hoseok was being a pretty good boyfriend right now. He hadn’t complained about the half an hour you’d spent perusing the makeup to find new stuff to put into your collection and he still wasn’t complaining as you filled your basket with face masks.

If anything, he’d managed to entertain himself quite well. 

But you think he was being good purely because you’d gone with him to a concert last night. It had been for one of his favourite bands, Metallica, and he’d ended up with a spare ticket as Jungkook had ended up ill with food poisoning. He had been about to go on his own, but you hadn’t liked the thought of him being lonely so you’d gone with him.

You’d recognised some of the songs they’d played from whenever Hoseok played them in the car or the house but it hadn’t been your scene. Still, it had been fun enough and you’d more than enjoyed seeing Hoseok happy as he’d rocked out to his beloved band.

It did mean that you were exceptionally tired today though as the two of you hadn’t gotten home from the stadium they’d performed in until after 2 am. That had been the closest performance apparently and you’d been shattered, sleeping until well after 11 am. Hoseok had promised you a day of relaxation, which you’d jumped on by asking him to do a full Korean skincare routine with you tonight.

He’d agreed, and you’d eagerly dragged him out to this store to replenish your supplies. The makeup was just because it was there and you couldn’t resist it. Already you were coming up with ideas for looks in your head that you could create and then put onto your Instagram. Moving places had meant that you hadn’t done many looks lately and you were eager to change that.

Especially now that you had a yard to take nice photos in. Hoseok and you had both been working hard on the weekends and evenings to transform the yard from the overgrown mess it had been into something nice. Nothing too amazing or expensive as it wasn’t your own house but nice enough that it made from some pretty aesthetic photos.

Placing a final bottle of moisturiser in your basket, you smile at Hoseok and hold it up proudly. He just looks at you in amusement for a second before smiling back.

“All done! We can go to pay now.” While you pay for all your new stuff, he goes and waits outside for you. Which you discover means he intently window shops at the video game store, getting that look on his face when he wants to do something.

Feeling that your bladder is a little too full right now, you glance over to where the public restrooms are and move over to Hoseok. “You can go in if you want, I’m going to the restroom so I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He takes your bag for you like the gentleman he is before disappearing inside, immediately making a beeline for the Playstation 4 section. You have a feeling he might be about to drop some money given how interested he’d been in some of the new games that have been released in the last few months.

Any thoughts of games are wiped from your mind very quickly though when you’re on the toilet. The sight of red staining your underwear has your eyes widening in horror as you realise that your period has decided to make an early appearance. For a moment you simply stare, brow creasing before you reach for your bag and grab your phone.

The period app you use says that you shouldn’t have started for another four days and you curse your body for doing whatever it likes. Scowling at the stain, you attempt to clean it before sighing in defeat, acknowledging that at least you were wearing black jeans today.

Another rummage in your bag causes you to find another problem, this one sending ice water running through your veins. Grabbing it and placing it onto your knees, you visually scan through every space and almost pull out the entire contents before letting out a small sound of despair.

You had no tampons.

Cursing to yourself quietly, you finish up and make do with an almost ridiculously large amount of toilet paper. Rushing out, you wash your hands before moving over to the machine that always had condoms, sanitary pads and tampons.

Only to see the ‘sold out’ sign on both the buttons you need. Groaning quietly, you do a little dance of frustration as you realise there are not even any other women in the restroom for you to ask. Not that you would. As if your social anxiety would allow for that!

So instead you have to slink outside and into the game shop, lip jutting out in a slight pout as you become hyper-aware of yourself. Can other people smell the blood? What if you leak through all the toilet paper and it does somehow show through your jeans?! What if you leak through onto a chair!

Hoseok wanted to get something to eat after this and you were dreading having to sit there for ages. Playing with your fingers nervously, you move over to where he’s crouched in front of the PS4 stand. He already has two game cases in his hand and is reading the back of another one, your bag of goodies on the floor between his feet.

Glancing up at you, he grins brightly before showing the cover of one of the cases he’s got.

“Look! The Spider-Man game is on sale! You want to play this, right?” Absentmindedly, you nod. The back of your mind takes in the fact that he’s also got Divinity: Original Sin 2 in his ‘buy’ hand and the other case he’s considering is the Doom remake. You wish that you could let him browse more but the drug store wasn’t close by and you didn’t want to just abandon him suddenly.

Still, the thought of what was going on down below was overwhelming and you found yourself shaking his shoulder slightly.

“Hey, are you done? Can we go?” Reaching down, you take your bag back and stand back as he rises, the crease between his brows letting you know he’s a little confused as to why you’re suddenly rushing him. He knows full well that there’s nothing important you need to do.

Still, though, he doesn’t question it and instead nods slowly. While he goes and pays for the games he’s buying, you go to wait by the entrance. Wrapping your arms around your waist, you realise that the low ache in your back that you’d had for a day or so was one of those early symptoms you got of your period.

Only you hadn’t thought anything about it. Not when you’d spent a few hours last night stood up. You’d just thought it was because you’d done a lot of work in the yard combined with the concert. Apparently not.

You’re pretty much already walking in the direction of the drug store by the time Hoseok comes out, causing him to have to jog to catch up with you. All you can think about is whether or not walking faster or slower would make things worse.

“Woah, hey, where are we going?” Hoseok asks, matching his speed to yours. You’re just thankful that there are not too many people out shopping today because it would only increase your stress levels if there was a big queue that you had to wait in or something.

“Just, to this store.” Admittedly, you’re not being very open and honest right now. But you’re embarrassed. Hoseok is fully aware of your periods and that they’re very much a thing that happens. They’d become a little more irregular recently as you’d had a copper IUD put in around a month before moving in with him.

Nothing drastic or anything, but then again they were also sometimes longer and a little heavier than you were used to when you were on the pill. It wasn’t exactly something you enjoyed talking about with anyone though; Soyeon and Chungha were pretty open about this kind of stuff but you had always mostly stayed quiet whenever they talked about it.

Which was silly. They were women who fully understood what you were going through and Hoseok understood that it was a monthly event. So it wasn’t like he’d be shocked to find out or anything. If anything, you’d probably done a bit of a bad job in explaining some things to him as you’d always got too shy whenever he’d asked things.

That was bad, you were well aware. But you’d only really got comfortable talking about sexual things with him. You knew that there were guys who thought it was gross that women bled for a week or so. Hoseok had never made those kinds of comments, but still. You were a work in progress.

“We’ve already been in here, why are you dragging me like Jason Voorhees is running after us with a knife?” He whines when you enter the store. You’re not surprised he’s confused because he’s right, you had come in here earlier and picked up what you needed. Still, though, he follows close by.

“I thought we didn’t need anything else.” Comes from him next, his lip pouting and you get the sense that he wanted to spend more time in the game store. A rush of guilt and shame washes over you, causing you to grip his hand even tighter as you shuffle awkwardly in place for a moment.

Finally in the store though, you realise just how silly you’re being with him. It’s not like he’s going to get outraged or upset. And you’re sure he’d have been much more willing to come along if he hadn’t been dragged along half the street with no idea what was happening.

Leaning into him, you cough slightly before swallowing as you feel yourself go hot with anxiety.

“My period started.” You whisper, keeping the words quiet enough so that he can hear them without having anyone else overhear. Though the rational part of your mind knew that you shouldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thought. It was a natural, bodily function and all that.

Your mind has never quite done things rationally though.

Hoseok has heard you though, you can tell by the way his head tilts to the side ever so slightly. But his expression is blank for a moment before his brow creases in obvious confusion, lips pursing as he contemplates what you’ve just told him.

“Okay...so why are we here?” Annnnd there it is. That famed male obliviousness to female problems. You couldn’t get annoyed at him though, not when he was good with you on everything else. He was cute.

“It’s early? And I have nothing to use. So I need to buy some.” His face changes immediately when he understands finally, mouth curving into an ‘o’ shape as he lets out a noise of recognition. It then contorts into worry for you, his eyes glancing down to your crotch area with wide eyes.

“Wait, so that means you’re...just…” He creates a rushing gesture with his hands, imitating a waterfall as he makes a ‘whoosh’ noise with his mouth. It’s a little too loud for your liking and you hiss at him, poking at his stomach before quickly pulling him over to the menstrual health aisle.

“I’ve used some toilet paper but it probably won’t last. It’s come on pretty hard and fast today. Please don’t laugh.” You beg him and his face sobers immediately, eyes darting over your own as he takes in your distressed appearance. Licking at his lips, he inhales deeply before nodding.

“Okay, you use tampons, right? So like...which ones? You never keep the box.” Automatically he starts to look over all the boxes of tampons; staring at the brands, types and absorption levels like he’s reading signs in Mandarin or something. It makes you want to laugh, despite the situation.

You appreciate his eagerness to help though, even when he points at random boxes with absolutely zero knowledge of what it was.

“What’s the difference in the brands? Is there a difference? Or is it like...when you buy those store brand biscuits and realise they taste the same as the branded biscuits only to find out that they’re made in the same factory and just relabelled?” That makes you snort with amusement, particularly as he’s now holding up a box of Tampax and a store brand to try and see the difference.

He’s not finished yet though, and even though you still feel the urgency to just grab some and run, you can’t help but let him entertain you. Because that’s what he’s doing. You’re not oblivious, you’ve realised over time that if you’re feeling anxious or uncomfortable or shy, Hoseok will often use humour to distract you away from your negativity.

It’s nice, which is why you let him carry on for a minute or so more.

“What are the drops for? And what’s the difference between regular and super? I mean, I think you’re pretty super but is this like...super big or something? Wait, is this plastic?! How does it absorb blood if it’s plastic?” Rolling your eyes at him, you bite your lip to stop the laughter that wants to escape before reaching past him to grab the box you usually buy.

Lifting it, you decide for a quick crash course in tampons. As your boyfriend, you never know when you might need him to run out to the store for some and the last thing you need is him bringing the entirely wrong type back.

“I use Tampax, purely cos it’s just the brand I’ve always used and I’m familiar with it. Super and regular are like the absorption so you’d use a super for the first few days when a period is heaviest. Hence why I’m getting these. The drops are the absorption rating too basically and it’s not plastic, that’s just the applicator that makes it easier to insert.” You say it all pretty quickly, but quietly enough that only he hears. 

Not that there’s any need, the store is loud enough that your conversation can’t be overheard and on top of that, there’s no one in this aisle anyway. But Hoseok nods thoughtfully, scanning the front of the box carefully.

“When we get home, I think I need a crash course in periods because I’m feeling pretty useless and dumb right now.” Laughing, you lean up to kiss his cheek quickly before heading in the direction of the cashiers.

“We can do that for you. It’s better to be educated after all. This is where I find out that you have this bizarre knowledge that is unbelievably wrong and I cringe.” Hoseok doesn’t answer back to that, causing you to look back and chuckle at his meek shrug and wince.

“What can I say? I’ve never had a girlfriend long enough to learn and education in high school was terrible. I’m not even gonna try to defend myself.” Humming lightly, you grin at him as you pay before heading out of the store. Looking in the direction of the toilets, you twist your lips as you consider your options.

“You want to eat at that place, right?” You ask, nodding your head towards the Japanese place that was down the opposite end of the street. Hoseok looks that way and nods, confirming his desire to you. Already you can feel your stomach rumble as you imagine the delicious food.

“Okay, we’ll just go there and I’ll go straight to the restroom in there. Come on.” Reaching you, you take his hand and smile up at him, your walk not so hurried now compared to before. Not that you aren’t completely aware of the fact that you’re free bleeding from your vagina right now, but walking faster might just aggravate it more. 

You had what you needed, so now you could relax a little more.

-

“Why are there so many steps in this? Don’t you get bored?” Hoseok mumbles, his words a little slurred due to the fact you’re rubbing serum into his cheeks. He’s already been here for ages in the bathroom as you’d used a cleanser to clean his face before exfoliating and then using toner on some cotton pads. 

You could tell that he was amused by the whole situation, even though he’d seen you do this many times before. But it was different experiencing it for himself you supposed. Still, he looked so adorable and you cooed to him, squishing his cheeks even more in amusement.

“No. It’s relaxing. You’re supposed to relax.” That makes him scowl, the expression not nearly as intense as he was going for given you’ve got his lips in the cutest pout. Still, you’re finished with that part so you let him go, laughing as he runs his fingers over his skin.

“I’m not relaxed. More...manhandled.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes as you get to work rubbing the serum you need into your skin, focusing on your eyes. The dark circles beneath them were far too...well dark for your liking.

“Okay, how’s your skin lately? Dry? Oily?” Frowning at you, he twists his lips as he considers your question. He’s been taking better care of his skin than he had been before dating you, but you knew that he still didn’t care that much. Surprisingly though, he has an answer for you.

“Dry?” Nodding to yourself, you reach through your box of face masks and pull out a moisturising one. Handing it over to him, you take your own and rip it open, pulling out the mask and carefully putting it on. Hoseok watches you intently before opening up his mask, his face immediately twisting into a cringe.

“Ewwww, oh my god. Why is it so slimy?!” He whines, holding it over the sink like it’s some monster that might kill him. With the mask on your face, you can’t laugh properly like you want to.

“Stop being a baby and put it on.” With a little more whining, he does so, lining it up and putting it onto his face. What follows is then complaints that it’s also cold and feels weird, causing you to roll your eyes at him once more as you help to smooth out any creases in it.

“Right, we’ve got to keep this on for twenty minutes so let’s go watch some Netflix,” Looking over him, you take in how he still manages to look handsome even with a white sheet mask on. “It’s not fair that you always look so good. Honestly.”

Hoseok just shrugs before licking his lips, his reaction immediate as he registers the foul taste. “Oh fuck me, what the fuck. This tastes fucking vile!”

“...you’re not meant to eat it, babe, they don’t make it for the taste.” He washes his hands in the sink to get rid of the remaining residue before following you out to the couch in the living room, Netflix still paused on the large television screen. Kasumi is curled up on her cat tree, fluffy body small as she sleeps quietly.

For around ten minutes, neither of you speak as you continue to watch Warrior Nun. It’s surprisingly got both your attention hooked, so you’re a little surprised when Hoseok suddenly speaks up and distracts you.

“Hey...I know this is a weird time to talk about this but after your whole period thing today it reminded me. So, I’ve been thinking lately. You definitely don’t want kids...right?” He looks at you and you get the impression he would raise his brow if he could. When you nod in response, he blows out a breath slowly.

“Okay...how would you feel if I said I wanted to get a vasectomy? I mean, I know you’ve said you don’t want kids but there’s always a chance that you might and a vasectomy is pretty final. Despite what people say.” Now it’s your for your expression to be mostly hidden by your face mask, your eyes widening until your eyelashes are uncomfortably touching the edges of the holes.

“You want that? I thought guys normally got all weirded out at that prospect. And I don’t want kids, ever. Full stop. Are you sure?” Of all the things you were going to be discussing tonight, you did not expect it to be this. It’s almost amusing that Hoseok has decided right now is the time for something so serious, when you both look so silly.

“I do. I just...I don’t want to risk a pregnancy and I know you’re scared of that too. Also, it’d put less stress on you, I know most birth control is usually aimed at women except for condoms and it’s a lot easier for me to get a vasectomy than for you to get anything done.” That makes you snort in acknowledgement, shifting on the couch until you pull your leg up and wrap your arms around it.

“Yeah, because god forbid a woman not want to fulfil her natural duty and pop out a kid, right?” 

“I’ve been looking into it, I’m pretty sure I could get one. If not, I’ll just talk the doctor’s ear off until they let me. Because it’s gonna happen. It’s way easier and less stressful than anything you have to do.” His dual concern for not wanting to cause an accidental pregnancy that neither of you wanted along with not wanting the burden to fall too heavily on you warms you, causing you to reach out and grasp his hand tightly as you squeeze at it.

“Is it easy? Or quick?” 

“Apparently. Some guys say it doesn’t hurt at all, others said it hurts. But...I’m pretty sure I want it. I just wanted to check with you that you’d be okay with the idea too. As I said, it’s final.” Hoseok smiles at you as best he can, causing you to shuffle a little closer to him. You’d like to rest your head against his shoulder but you’d just get it covered in face mask gunk.

“I mean, it’s your body. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” Pointing this out to him, you look up and tilt your head, your statement almost a question.

It makes him sigh and focus on your hands, shifting them until he could interlink his fingers with your own. You let him do so, figuring he should probably be taking the lead in this conversation. It is about him after all.

“We’re in a relationship. A serious relationship and this decision would affect both of us. It’s cutting off the chance for biological kids, despite people saying you might be able to reverse it. I feel you should have a say too.” Nodding slowly, you hum lightly as you consider his words carefully.

“Well, if you want it then I’ll support you completely. I never want children so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s your decision, but I just want to make sure you think it over properly and do research, okay? Don’t go rushing into it.” That makes him snort in amusement.

“Meeps, if there’s one thing you should know by now; it’s that men do not take decisions regarding their dick and balls lightly. You can be damn sure I’m going to be 100% in my decision if I’m going to let someone come near my balls with a scalpel or somet.” The way he says this is so matter of fact that you can’t help but laugh, the sound not as big or bright as you’d like it to be given you still had your mask on.

“Man, I can’t believe I’m talking about someone knifing my balls while I’m sitting here looking like a dollar store Michael Myers.” Hoseok points at himself, his bemusement clearly obvious despite his poor Halloween costume and you giggle softly.

Reaching out, you run your fingers through his hair that’s currently being held back by a bandana and smile at him softly. “Come on, let’s go get these off and start looking human again.”

Hoseok follows you immediately, already peeling the face mask off and making casual comments about how the mask isn’t as slimy as it had once been. You take off your own and drop it into the small bin in the bathroom, making sure that he does the same.

“Okay, rub it in and pat it dry. Make sure you get the excess to go on your throat and stuff, it’s good for your skin there too.” Hoseok looks in the mirror, his face shining obscenely from the residue leftover and grimaces.

“Ew, this feels...gross,” One hand presses to his skin, rubbing it in and cringing. “Is this what it feels like when I cum on your face?”

The comment is so random that you pause for a moment, all thoughts disappearing as you comprehend what he’s just said. A glance at him makes you realise he’s being completely serious, his expression focused on rubbing his face as you’d told him. It’s moments like this that make you love him even more, the blasé comments he makes that are so funny and yet also x-rated.

“No...not really. That’s more...well it’s not all over, you know? And it’s thicker than this. And I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you. You know what your cum feels like.” A snort from him gives away his bemusement.

“Yeah, but I’ve never smeared it all over my face before.”

“Maybe you should. Experience it for yourself for once. It’s not all that good for you by the way, despite what people say. It has protein but it’s not enough to make it worthwhile or anything, so don’t think I’m going to be asking you for your special facials anytime soon.” Looking away from him, you grab the next item on your routine before looking at him with a smirk.

“Damn, there goes my plan to be self-sufficient. Could’ve made a whole organic spa thing out of it.” 

[thegreatestofheck]

warm //Fred Weasley\\

warnings - mentions of death, angst and a lot of it, really like there is nothing here except angst and also Fred dies again. also, I didn’t edit this.  synopsis - you and your husband survive the second wizarding war, but so do some of Voldemort’s old followers, and they are hell bent on revenge.  pairings - muggle!reader x Fred Weasley a/n - so this is based on a dream I had a long while ago and I just needed to get off my chest. I hope y’all enjoy it. Also, sorry, I’m not british and it feels weird typing Mum and not being british so I just used Mom. I apologize. And yes, the first part of this was an actual dream that I had once and it absolutely broke me to pieces. So, here I am sharing it with you so that you can all cry too. You’re welcome. 

~~~

You had spent many Christmases with the Weasleys, but this was your first Christmas celebrating as a Weasley. 

You twisted the simple copper bands around your fingers, as you always did when you were nervous. Fred Weasley, your husband, reached out to take your hand without even looking at your fidgetiness. He knw you well enough to know when you were nervous. 

“You already know everyone here,” he said in a low whisper. “There’s no need to be afraid.” 

“I’m not scared of your family!” You told him quietly with a smile before placing your other hand gently over your stomach. “I’m just...nervous about telling them.”

Fred looked over at you as if suddenly remembering that you were expecting your first kid, who would be the second of Molly and Arthur’s grandkids, right after Victoire. He smiled at you and then smiled down at your hand. 

“George and Angelina already know, what’s the difference from telling everyone else?” 

“Well, let’s think,” you hummed sarcastically, tapping your free hand against your chin. “Oh, right, there’s like a million people in your family and I have a paralyzing fear of public speaking.” 

Fred laughed and it sent your stomach rolling like it always did. Your dad had warned you about what would happen after your honeymoon period had ended, how the butterflies might go away, but it had been almost a year and every time Fred smiled, your entire body still burst with joy at the sight of it. 

“We’ll just go in and figure it out from there, yeah?” He said, with a side smile and his never fading confidence. You squeezed his hand and smiled back. 

“Yeah.” 

You sucked in one last calming breath as Fred lifted his hand to knock on the wooden door. It was your final chance at peace before the world decsended into the chaos that was the Weasley-Potter-Granger-Johnson-Delacour-y/l/n family. 

Arthur opened the door and barely had time to recognize that it was you and Fred before Molly let out a cry of joy and ran to greet you. 

“My dear y/n!” Molly Weasley wrapped you in a tight hug. “How are you? How was Spain? Didn’t run into any trouble I hope?” 

“Mom!” Ginny laughed, pulling her mother away from you. “Merlin’s Beard, let her breathe!” 

“Hey, Gin,” you whispered as she pulled you in for a short squeeze. 

“Hey, sis.” 

Ginny escorted you to the dining room where the others were waiting eagerly to greet you. George and Angelina stood back, watching you and Fred with knowing smiles. Hermione let out a squeal of excitement at the sight of you, tossing Ron’s arm from around her shoulders so she could run to embrace you. 

Throwing her arms around your neck almost threw you off balance, but Fred was right behind you to keep you steady. 

“The house looks amazing,” you said Hermione pulled away. You looked up at the tall ceilings, the crooked paintings on the wall, the charmed knitting needles doing their own thing in a vacant chair. “Just like it always has been.” 

Fred snaked an arm around your waist, but not before Hermione and Ginny pulled you away to chat. 

“And who is this lovely lady?” Fred asked, walking over to a brunette standing beside Percy. The girl blushed and extended a hand. 

“This is my friend, Aubrey,” Percy told, the same level of sobriety as always. 

“Friend,” Ginny mouthed to you with air quotes. You laughed, just as easily as you always had. 

“Are Bill and Fleur here yet?” You asked. “I haven’t had the chance to get my hands on that baby of theirs.” 

“Not yet,” Angelina said as she walked over to join the group of girls. You could see the smirk on her face as she settled in beside you near the fireplace. “You’re going to have to forcibly take Victoire from Bill. He doesn’t like to let her go.” 

“She’s gonna be a daddy’s girl I see,” you teased and the girl’s laughed. 

“If Bill has anything to say about it,” Ginny added. 

Fred and George fell quickly back into their usual antics, leaving you and Angelina to watch with amused smiles from the side. 

“So,” you said quietly once the two of you were alone. “When is he asking?” 

Angelina sighed. 

“He refuses to tell me. Said something about waiting for the right moment.” You rolled your eyes. Fred had said the same thing. “Have you seen the ring?” 

“Oh, definitely.”

“What does it look like?” 

“I can’t tell you, Ang! It’s a surprise!” 

Angelina nudged you gently with her elbow, but not too hard. 

“Have you told your parents about...?” She nodded down to your stomach, sure to keep her voice low. 

“Of course I did,” you said. “My mom is just excited that her little girl’s all grown up and my dad is hoping for another magical baby.” 

“Right. How is your sister doing?” 

“She’s good. Out there living her best magical life.” There was only the faintest trace of bitterness in your voice. 

Both of your parents were muggles. Your sister ended up being a witch, but you, unfortunately, did not. Still, you and your family had always been exposed to magic, having been family friend’s with Angelina and the rest of the Johnson’s for almost your entire life. It was Angelina who introduced you to the twins when you were nine, Angelina who forced all three of you to hang out until the twins actually started to like you, Angelina who convinced Fred to ask you out, and so, naturally, it was Angelina (and George) who was that first to know about your baby. 

“Have you picked out any names yet?” Angelina asked, leaning in even closer. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at her, the very subject making nearly burst with joy. You wanted to tell her, oh how you wanted to tell her, but you and Fred had promised to keep it a secret, even from Angelina and George. 

“I can’t say just yet,” you replied. Angelina raised an eyebrow. 

Not much later, Bill and Fleur arrived, baby Victoire in her daddy’s arms. You nearly jumped out of your seat with excitement. Bill took one look at your face and nearly hid Victoire behind his wife, who simply laughed. After another long round of greetings, Arthur finally called everyone to the table. 

“Our family grows every year,” he said, his eyes beginning to swim with tears. “Each and every one of us has lived through the unimaginable.” 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, knowing that everyone around you had fought in a war that you didn’t even know was going on. Once again, Fred reached out to grab your hand under the table without even looking at you. 

“I am so proud to get to call you my family,” Arthur said, choking up even more. Molly reached up a shaking hand and placed it over his. He looked down at her and she smiled. You pictured yourself there one day, surrounded by an enormous family, full of joy and happiness and memories despite all the pain the world would inevitably throw your way. You looked over at Fred and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“We have an announcement,” you said suddenly, smiling as you stood. Angelina immediately blossomed into a grin, while Fred turned white. You looked around at all the expectant faces watching you. 

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. His lightning bolt scar had begun to fade in the last year and a half since the Dark Lord was defeated. His glasses were almost always broken, but Hermione had taught Ginny the spell to fix it. 

Ron Weasley. No longer was he Harry’s best friend or the last of the Weasley boys. He had made a name for himself. Hunting down dark wizards to every corner of the world, the world was safer with him in it. 

Hermione Granger, on her way to becoming the first, and youngest, female Minister of Magic. With all her studying and hard work and dedication, she never lost that childlike twinkle in her eye. 

Ginny Weasley, chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. No one could beat her. With an iron grit and nerves of steel, no one could stare her down and make it out on the other side. Yet she was still the kindest person you knew. 

Fleur Weasley, a kind and loving woman, despite all the pain she suffered. 

Angelina Johnson, a wickedly talented witch and the best friend a girl could ask for. 

Percy Weasley, a pain in the arse, but the constant voice of reason. 

Bill Weasley, always find the best in every situation, even when things are the most dire. 

George Weasley, who never had an end to all the jokes and smiles, even in the darkest of times. 

Molly Weasley, who gave everything she had to her kids and kept on giving. 

Arthur Weasley, who’s courage and loyalty to his family kept them all alive for this long. 

Aubrey....well, you didn’t know her that well, but she had a kind smile and a wicked sense of fashion. 

And Fred, your Freddie, who made you laugh even when you wanted to cry, who held your hair back as you violently vomited in the toilet, who would build forts with you in your tiny loft and remind you to water your plants and feed the cat, who was more than willing to give up his joke shop and travel the world with you if that was what you wanted. Your solid rock, your standing place, your hope when the world was nothing but bleak. Your everything. 

You looked at each one of their faces and remembered how much you loved them and how grateful you were to have them in your life. And you couldn’t hold your secret in any longer. 

“Fred and I are-”

The wall beside you exploded into a million pieces, sending you flying forward. You barely heard Fred scream your name over the sounds of the others shrieking and the ringing in your ears. 

You hit the stone ground hard, the air squeezing painfully from your lungs. Your squeezed your eyes shut, praying for the high pitched squeal in your ears to fade. Once it had, all you were left with was screaming. Your eyes refused to open quickly. All you could do was blink. Dust and ash floated around your vision. Bursts of blue and green and red light flew across the room before you could even recognize it. 

“Ang!” You heard a voice cry. 

“Here!” Someone replied. 

You stood as quickly as your trembling legs allowed you to, pulling yourself by the fireplace mantel. All around you, more spells were shot back and forth through the house. You pressed yourself as tightly against the wall as you could manage, hoping to not get hit by anything stray. 

“Aubrey!” Percy shouted, grabbing hold of her wrist from between the legs of a fallen chair. 

“Go!” Arthur shouted over the cackling of the intruders and the shattering of picture frames. “We’ll find you. Just go!” 

With a hiss and a pop, Percy and Aubrey disappeared from your sight. You wished you could Apparate now. But you wouldn’t leave until you found Fred.

Taking in a deep breath as if diving under water, you ducked and rolled into the fireplace where you were hoping it would be a little more safe. 

You searched through the chaos with your eyes, afraid to move from your spot, for any sign of your husband. Your heart soared as you thought you saw him, only to realize that it was George pulling Angelina into a tight hug before following in Percy’s footsteps. 

You met Angelina’s gaze just before George Apparated them away, her eyes going wide and her lips just beginning to form the shape of your name. Your heart jumped into your throat. 

“y/n!” You heard a familiar voice call. 

“I’m here!” You weren’t sure how far your voice carried over the sound of mini explosions, or if it was even safe to give away your position at all, but anything was better right now than being alone. 

Your heart pounded in your ears as you scanned the dining room for any sign of him, but the dust and the smoke was filling the room rather quickly and it was becoming difficult to see. You could hear someone screaming and for a moment you feared it was Victoire. 

The screaming became too much and you covered your ears with your hands, only to discover that it had been you that was screaming, not anyone else. Your voice echoed through the fireplace. 

Finally, through the haze Fred came barreling through. You let out a cry of joy, lurching forward at the sight of him, leaving the safety of your hiding place.. 

“Avada-” 

You reached forward with all your might, seeing a smile on his face as he reached out to grab hold of your arm. As soon as his skin met yours, there was a shout from someone else, almost like a warning cry, and your stomach lurched, the familiar feeling of Apparating. 

You squeezed your eyes tight, not wanting to watch the world spin out of control around you while you were taken to wherever it was the Fred wanted you to go. You thought of your trip to Spain, of the beautiful countryside where there was no one for miles. In the sleepless nights since you had returned and through the bouts of horrible morning sickness, that countryside was peaceful enough to calm you down. 

So, when the spinning sensation stopped and you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself standing on those same countryside. Fred quickly pulled his hand from yours as he landed. Before you could even question why he brought you both here, your stomach churned again, but this time, it wasn’t magic. Your baby heavily disagreed with your husband’s quick way of travelling. 

After emptying your guts into the grass, you straightened and looked up at the blue sky. 

“It’s still so beautiful here, Freddie,” you said, letting your eyes close as the gentle breeze blew through your hair. “But why bring us here? Why not somewhere-”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you turned around to face him. 

He lay on his back, arms out beside him as he stared up at the beautiful sky above him. Only, he wasn’t staring. His eyes weren’t seeing at all. 

“Freddie?” 

You walked over to him, your heart roaring to life, beating so wildly in your chest, you feared you might explode. 

Dropping to the ground beside him, you fought back the water that was rapidly obscuring your vision. 

“Freddie.” You reached out to take his hand, only to find him cold as stone. A horrified gasped came from your mouth. Nothing about Fred had ever been cold. He was light and life and everything warm under the sun. His soul burned like a thousand infernos, heating everything in his wake. His heart was a million suns beating in unison, to the same rhythm as yours. Nothing about Fred was ever cold. 

Except, now his hands. Now the distant, glazed over look in his eyes. Now the ghost of his last smile etched onto his lips. 

Leaning over him, you could have sworn you saw a flash of green reflected in those beautiful brown eyes of his and your mouth fell open in shock. 

“Freddie!” You cried, suddenly realizing what exactly had happened. “Fred!” 

You took his cold hand in yours, bringing it to your lips. You breathed against his knuckles, hoping to give him some of the warmth that you had left in you. 

“Come on,” you whispered, letting his hand fall into your lap as you placed your own hands on his face. “Come on, breathe!” 

Your lower jaw began to quiver as tears started to drip down your cheeks. 

“You can’t leave me yet,” you whispered to him, curling your body over his. You tucked one arm under his neck, pulling him into your lap. His eyes still did not move and his ghostly smile never wavered. “Don’t leave us.” 

But his body was still cold and growing colder with every passing second. 

“Help.” Your voice broke, your words drowned out by your owns tears. “Somebody, please, help us.” 

Even if you could get your voice above a whisper, there would be no one for miles. This was the place you had wanted to go, the place where you and Fred could be alone and safe from the wizards in the dark cloaks. You had brought the yourself here because Fred didn’t leave his house alive. 

Leaning down and pressing your forehead to his chest, you let out a sob and then another one, your fingers curling around his Weasley jumper. The golden ‘G’ darkened from your tears until the entire thing was soaked through. 

“I can’t do this alone,” you said, finally lifting your head to look at his face. 

“You’re not alone,” whispered the wind. You gasped and sat up straighter, looking around for the voice. There was no one in sight. “I’m right here.”

“Freddie?” You asked, barely trusting the word that left your lips. The wind was silent. You looked back down at Fred, at Fred’s body, and tightened your jaw. You brushed away what remained of your tears. 

“I’m getting us home,” you promised him, lifting your hand to shut his eyes. “Just you wait, I’m getting us home.” 

~~~

You looked up at the Burrow. Once again, the windows were shattered, the door was broken to splinters, one wall had caved in. You could hear voices from inside, whispering, talking. A laugh rang out. Your heart soared in your chest. 

It had been weeks since you saw them last, weeks that you had been carrying Fred’s body behind you. A kindly wizard you had met along the way froze him for you so he wouldn’t decay, which felt awfully morbid, but you were grateful. Your hair was a tangled mess, your face covered in dirt and sweat and sunburnt nearly beyond recognition. 

But you had finally made it home. 

You weren’t sure you would be able to drag Fred’s body the rest of the way up to the door, but you wouldn’t need to. Before you could take another step, Angelina stepped into view. 

For a moment, she just stared at you and you simply stared back. Her eyes didn’t even move to the rolled up carpet where you had hidden Fred’s body behind you. She just stared. And then, as if a gate had suddenly been opened, she came hurtling toward you at full speed. 

You let out a single laugh just before she collided with you, pulling you in for the tightest hug she could have given. You were crying again once you were in her arms. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered against your hair. “You’re safe.”

Your legs gave out beneath you and she helped you to the ground. Everyone else inside had heard your cry and came filing out one by one until they were all standing around you. You were surprised to see even Charlie was there, the prodigal son returned home. 

“Where’s-”

Ginny didn’t even need to finish your question. From the look on your face, they all knew. 

“He-” You struggled to keep your words from shaking. Angelina squeezed your hand and helped you onto your feet. “I couldn’t leave him there.” 

The words you spoke made Harry take a step backward, the first one to fully put things together. He looked at you and then he looked back at the rug you had been dragging and his face turned white as snow. 

Angelina had to keep you upright, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding onto your arm. 

“I tried,” you said, looking straight toward Molly, who still didn’t fully understand. 

“Oh, god,” Ginny breathed and then let out a shuddered gasp as she finally puzzled things out. Harry took her hand and pulled her into a hug and, as soon as he did, she dissolved into tears. One by one, they each began to realize what had happened. You watched in horror as that family slowly began to fall apart. Molly shrieked, falling to her knees and Arthur following after her. Hermione immediately put her arms around Ron to stop him from walking toward the rug that held his brother. Bill stared in wide-eyed horror at his wife, who had turned her body so the baby in her arms wouldn’t be able to see the rug at your feet. Percy was still as stone. 

And George, George stared at you and you stared back unable to see anything but your husband’s face. 

“George, I’m-” 

Before you could even try to apologize, he strode toward you and snatched you out of Angelina’s arms and into his, pulling you in for an even tighter hug. And like that, the two of you finally fell apart. 

~~~

You couldn’t stand at his funeral. Your body was still so exhausted from the journey home and from trying to keep the baby inside you alive that your legs would simply no longer hold you upright. 

You were glad they had you in a wheelchair. That way, they couldn’t see your knees shake. 

Your eyes never dried the entire time. You thought you might have cried every last tear you had in your body the day you returned home, but you apparently had more inside of you. 

Aside from your family (and Lee Jordan, who stood beside Angelina), there were so many people you did not recognize. An older woman with glasses and an emerald green dress. A rather large man with bushy hair and a long beard. A blond boy who stood off to the side, away from everyone else. Two boys, one shorter and one taller, holding hands as they both stifled tears. 

You wondered how many lives Fred had touched, how many people he had made laugh, that you would never get the privilege of meeting. 

Back at the Burrow later that day, you sat next to Molly and Arthur, each of you staring blankly at the floor. You twisted your rings around your fingers, but not out of worry. You slowly pulled them off before turning to Molly. 

She looked at you, a stream of tears running from her eyes. With trembling hands, you handed the rings out to her. 

“These belong to your family,” you said, chin shaking as you tried to fight back tears. Molly shook her head, eyes closing, but she was unable to say anything. 

“Just because you are no longer married to our son, does not make you any less our daughter,” Arthur told you with the only hint of a smile that he could manage. You gasped in shuddered breaths and Molly reached out to pull you into a tight hug. 

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed as you clung to her jumper. She ran her fingernails over your back and you were pretty sure you could feel her smile. 

“I know. Fred told me.” 

You managed a laugh as you pulled away.

“If it’s a boy, we want to name him Gideon,” you said, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Molly sucked in a shuddering breath. “Gideon Lee. And if it’s a girl, we want to name her Persephone, but, Percy, for short.” 

Somewhere across the living room, Percy Weasley lifted his head. Aubrey was no where to be seen. 

“You saved his life at the battle you fought,” you reminded him. Percy’s eyes swam with water. “He never forgot it. This is how we say thank you.” 

Percy nodded his head slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he dropped his head back into his hands. 

~~~

You had a boy and a girl. 

You weren’t prepared for twins, but it didn’t matter. 

With so many of his kids moving out to start their own families, Molly prepared a room for you to stay with her and Arthur. Molly dotted on Gideon and Persephone, never wanting to put them down no matter how loudly they cried. 

“My twins were the same,” she said, smiling at the memory. Her face never turned sad. 

Some days you were perfectly fine. You could look at Persephone’s full head of bright orange hair and Gideon’s hazel eyes and see Fred and smile. And some days, you couldn’t even bare the thought of getting out of bed. But Molly and Arthur never left your side. Angelina and George were over all the time, to take care of you and the help with the kids. You couldn’t look at George for the first few weeks without breaking down completely. He understood. 

Bill and Fleur brought Victoire to play with Gideon and Persephone and Bill even let you hold her sometimes. She really was going to grow up to be a daddy’s girl. The others never failed to visit either. Even Charlie would stop by occasionally as the two grew. 

Your parents and even your wayward sister enjoyed spending time with them. You had never expected it, but the birth of your children had drawn you closer to your sister. After years of estrangement, the two of you were able to sit side by side and laugh together, as if not a day had gone by since you were ten and had no worries in the world. 

You missed Fred’s warmth every single day of your life, but you found his joy in Persephone’s laughter and Gideon’s proficiency for setting things on fire. You remembered what the wind had told you that day, that you were not alone. You were never going to be alone again, and you were grateful for it. 

You had spent many Christmases with the Weasleys and now you shared many Christmases as one of them. 

~~~

In this life, you had lost Fred after the war. In your life before, you had lost him during it. It was almost as if the universe and all it’s splinters had decided that you and Fred were not to be. You lost every game you played together, but you were willing to lose them all, so long as you got to bask for a few minutes in his light. 

~~~

tagging - @inaworldofwonder (aka the only person who liked the post I made about this story three days ago) @x-lulu (i’m not sure if you’re into harry potter, if not, im sorry) @bricksatanakinswindow (because you like harry potter and I like harry potter and you like angst and I like angst so here we are) 

none of you need to feel obligated to read this but it’s been in my head since 8th grade and i just needed to get it out. thank you. love you all.

[handsome-john]

Community Gardens

Guess who’s finally dragged themselves out of writer’s block hell and is using this energy to fix the terrible lack of Hanahaki fics in this fandom! Check reblogs for ao3 link if you prefer reading that way

Relationships: Rhack, with some Timoxxi in the back ground

Words: 3621

Warnings: Blood, vomit, strong language, and sexual humor 

Summary:  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood.

Handsome Jack did not fall in love. Sure he slept around, maybe had a few candle lit dates, once even playfully kissed a co-worker on the cheek while a little tipsy. But he did not fall in love. 

  Sure Jack fell in love plenty of times. Even married twice and almost got married a third time before Nisha had the common sense to walk out the door. But Jack died long ago, in a godforsaken vault on that godforsaken moon. 

  All that was left was Handsome Jack. Powerful, rich, and sexy CEO of Hyperion. Who did not fall in love with anyone! No one at all. 

  Handsome Jack told himself that every night. But that did not stop the soreness in his throat or the tightness in his lungs. It didn’t stop the constant flow of rose petals he coughed up each night.

  Handsome Jack did not fall in love. He plunged head first into it, just like Jack plunged into that vault all those years ago. And just like that vault, the only thing Jack would gain from love is disappointment and permanent scars. 

  He didn’t realize he’d been zoned out for the past half-hour until the hot piece of ass Jack called his PA snapped him out of it.   “Your coffee, sir.” Rhys said, handing him a mug with Jack’s face on it. “I made it as sweet as you, sir.” 

  The coffee was black, just how Jack liked it. He gave him a smile that was all teeth. “You’re lucky I’m too lazy to find another personal assistant as good as you, pumpkin. Anyone else would be getting an up close and personal look at my airlock for that kind of sass.”

  “I know sir,” Rhys said with the tone of someone who knew exactly how important they were, and the smirk to match. 

  Do you really? Jack wanted to ask. Do you have any idea how important you are to me?

  Rhys made Jack feel vulnerable, and he had the charm and personality to make Jack not even mind. He had Handsome freakin’ Jack wrapped around his little cybernetic finger and there was nothing Jack could do about it. 

  Well there was one thing. But Handsome Jack didn’t do that. Even if he wanted to. 

  He was snapped out of his thoughts once again by another coughing fit. His throat had been killing him all morning. It’s the worst it’s ever been and the strangest part was that there hadn’t even been any petals yet. Sure he was grateful, wouldn’t want to spit bloody sunflower petals all over Rhys’s stupid asymmetrical shirt, but it was odd. 

  “Are you alright sir?” Rhys said with concern so genuine it made Jack’s stomach twist into a knot. 

  “I’m freakin’ fine-” He wheezed, sounding like a dying dog. He gripped his desk for support, coughing his throat raw. 

  “I’ll go get some cough medicine!” Jack didn’t want to be alone at the moment, but he’d rather Rhys not see what happened next. 

  Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, definitely seeping under his mask and splattering across the desk. The burning in his throat made his eyes water, like he ate a cup full of razor blades. No scratch that, a cup full of razor blades would be preferable to this.

  He jolted forward, retching when he felt something tickling the back of his tongue. It was soft, like a tissue. It was also very good at hitting every single one of his gag triggers. 

  He knelt over his trash can and shoved two fingers into his mouth. He was desperate to get whatever the fuck that was out of him. 

  The pain intensified tenfold as he tugged. Black spots danced in his vision. God he was pathetic.

  Finally there was a soft snap and Jack threw the wet thing onto the floor with a soft splat. He grabbed the bin and hacked up petals and whatever he ate for breakfast. With his stomach emptied, Jack laid down on the floor, the cool tile nice against his burning face, and examined whatever the hell he just coughed up. 

  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood. 

  Of course it was a fucking rose. 

  The door opened with a whoosh, alerting Jack that Rhys was back. He quickly threw away the rose and whipped his face. Hopefully Rhys wouldn’t notice all the blood on his desk, or floor, or in the garbage can, or leaking out the side of his mask, or…

  Okay so he was screwed.

  “What the hell happened!? Jack! Jack, do I need to call anyone!?” Rhys knelt by his side, gently shaking the man on the floor.

  “I’m fucking fine kiddo.” He grimaced, his body screaming at him to shut the hell up. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him. 

  “You should lay down. Rest your head. What happened? Is there a doctor I can call?” 

  “No!” Jack growled. He hated doctor’s. Last time he went to a doctor for anything more than a shot or a regular check up was when he was getting a mask grafted to his face. He hated their pitying looks and how they treated him like glass. He could never trust a doctor. 

  But he trusted Rhys. Rhys had only worked for Jack a little over five years. But in those five years Rhys had gotten closer to him than anyone else. Jack trusted Rhys enough to open up about his daughter, his sweet Angel that was off with another pair of sirens learning to use her Phaseshift powers. 

  Could he trust Rhys with this? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice because the more he thought about Rhys, the itchier his throat felt, until he was sputtering out sunflower petals. 

  Rhys’s expression was hard to read. A mix of horror, realization, and sympathy. “Oh… Oh no.” 

  Oh no was a pretty good way to describe hanahaki. It wasn’t contagious, but it was extremely easy to catch. There was no cure, at least no cure that was worth it, but with advances in modern medicine it wasn’t deadly. 

  There were three levels of severity. Tier one which was common in kids with schoolyard crushes that would really go anywhere. It usually only involved petals. Tier two is what you had to worry about, coming from the kind of crushes you could actually see yourself marrying. Sore throats, difficulty breathing, and small flowers.

  Tier three was the worst kind. While the flowers and vines themselves won’t kill you, suffocation and blood loss will. There were medicines that could get rid of the stems, and small surgeries to help the lungs, but completely removing the flowers could be extremely detrimental to both your physical and mental health. 

  Tier three hanahaki came from deep love that was surly unrequited. But that’s just what the ECHOnet told him. And what did the ECHOnet know. Handsome Jack did not fall in love.

  Sure his doppelgänger fell in love, but Tim wasn’t Jack, even though Jack was paying him to be. Tim was actually where he learned about hanahaki. It happened after they met Moxxi on Concordia. 

***

“Does anyone have a bottle of bubbly I can smash against this thing?” Jack asked as they prepared to launch the Meriff’s statue-head into Pandora’s asshole. “Ah nevermind. Go ahead and fire!” 

  Nisha cackled as she slammed her hand onto the launch button. The remix played as it zoomed off. 

  Jack glanced around, noticing one of his vault hunter’s missing. “Say have any of you seen Timmy around? He was supposed to be here for this!?” 

  “Lost track of him after we spoke to Moxxi.” Wilhelm said, which was probably one of the longer sentences he’s said yet. 

  “I think I saw him run to the bathroom. Probably to deal with a ‘little problem’ of it,” Nisha said with an exaggerated wink. 

  “He’s going to have bigger problems in a minute.” 

  Jack made his way over to the bathrooms, fully ready to chew Timothy out. “Tim! You better not be Jacking-off in here!” 

  He heard Tim groan in pain and ran over to his stall. He found the doppelgänger kneeled by the toilet, face first in it. Jack let out a low whistle, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

  “Moxxi rope you into having one too many drinks?” He paused, noticing a trial of magnolia petals. 

  Tim looked at Jack and coughed, spraying petals across the floor. 

  It wasn’t hard to figure out it was hanahaki. Looking up “coughing up flowers” really only has one result, not including weird fetish porn. 

  “It better not be Moxxi.” Jack said, threat emanating from his voice.

  Tim had a bashful look on his face that Jack would never be caught dead with. “She’s just so pretty. And smart! She’s a mechanic and she looks cute even witho-” he whimpered as more petals filled his mouth.

  It only seemed to be a tier two case, still it would be annoying if Tim was kept from work just because of some flower petals. Though it would also be annoying to watch his ex and his doppelgänger get all mushy and gross together. 

  Somehow the tiny little piece of him that felt bad for the doppelgänger won out. 

  “Okay fine. Go for it.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve got my charm and good looks. You can win her back no problem.” 

  Tim smiled, wiping the drool and petals off his face. “Thank you sir! I won’t disappoint you sir!” 

  That night Tim fell in love. But Jack was not Tim. Handsome Jack did not love. 

***

After Jack refused to see a doctor, Rhys decided to assign himself the role of caretaker, starting with getting Jack home. Handsome Jack wasn’t sure why Rhys insisted on supporting him as they made their way up to Jack’s penthouse. It wasn’t like his legs were broken. 

  Rhys laid Jack onto the couch. “Stay here and rest. I’ll make tea, it'll help with your throat.” 

  “Fine fine.” Jack wasn’t even sure if he had tea. He was more of a coffee man. 

  He didn’t usually bring people up to his penthouse for social calls, if you could call whatever this is a social call. Actually he never let anyone in here that he wasn’t planning on fucking or killing. The more he thought about it, the more likely he would probably end up doing one of those things to Rhys. 

  Rhys returned, handing him a teacup. “This will taste bitter, but it helps with the sore throats and the thorns.” He smiled at him. A soft smile that made Jack feel weirdly vulnerable, like Rhys could see right through him and still wanted him.

  Jack shuttered, his throat burning when he thought of Rhys. It was coincidence of course, Jack was not in love with Rhys. 

  He took a slow sip of the tea and forced back a gag. “God you weren’t kidding when you said bitter!” 

  Rhys winced. “Normally people add a bit of honey to help with the taste, but I couldn’t find any and I was in a hurry.” 

  Jack stared at the swirling grey-green liquid and decided a bad taste was better than a sore throat. 

  “How do you know so much about this shit anyway?” 

  Rhys sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a friend that had a chronic case of it. I learned a lot helping them out.” 

  “Oh… How long did your friend have it?” 

  “Five years.”

  “Damn. How does someone live that way.”

  Rhys shrugged. “You get used to it. Eventually taking pain meds and hiding flower petals in your shirt becomes as normal as waking up every morning and going to work. You adapt.” 

  Jack wasn’t sure what to say, which was probably a good thing since it was killing him to hold a conversation this long. Rhys stood up, signifying that this conversation was probably over anyway. 

  “I’ll make dinner. Something soft. Do you have ice cream? I guess obviously you probably do. I’m going to walk away now.” 

  Jack pretended he wasn’t staring right at Rhys’s ass as he left. Rhys always seemed confident at work, when he was making phone calls and chewing someone out for Jack. But the few times Jack had caught Rhys outside of work he was a whole different person. Jack could certainly understand putting on a mask.

  Speaking of masks, god his was itchy. He trusted Rhys, but he didn’t want to take his mask off around him. Rhys would be disgusted, probably be asked to be transferred to a different part of Helios. Jack would probably have to kill Rhys in case he tried to use his secret against him. 

     No, the reasonable side of Jack protested. Rhys never once tried to manipulate Jack. Sure sometimes he would hackle Jack about a raise, but he never once used Angel against him, or slipped a little alcohol in his drink so he’d be more agreeable. Hell the kid hasn’t even tried to get in bed with Jack. And at this point, shooting your shot with the Handsome Jack, might as well be in the job description. 

  Jack wheezed as he coughed up hyacinth petals into his now empty glass. Why hadn’t Rhys ever made a move on him? It wasn’t like Rhys was afraid of Jack. Is it possible Rhys just doesn’t see Jack that way?

  No that’s impossible, Jack’s vanity said. Everyone in the ship, no matter the sexuality, wanted a piece of Jack. And Rhys’s feelings didn’t matter either way, because Handsome Jack did not fall in love. 

  Rhys, the pure angel, returned with a bucket and a tub of chocolate ice cream just in time to catch the hyacinths Jack puked up. 

***

“You know this would be easier if you took off your mask,” Rhys said softly. 

  “You’ve said.” Jack growled, plucking petals out of his drink. Jack didn’t remember when Rhys dragged him over to his bed but that’s where he’s been the past couple of days.  

  “I just want to help you. I promise I won’t tell a soul. It just can’t be good for you to wear it this long.” 

  Rhys had been up in Jack’s penthouse for a week. Jack refused to see a doctor and his condition was slowly getting worse. Rhys did what he could, but what Jack really needed was a doctor or to confess his feelings. 

  It hurt watching his boss and friend, at least Rhys hoped they were friends, in so much pain. For many reasons. His most selfish reason was that he was sure that whoever Jack loved, it definitely wasn’t him. 

  Jack gave him a cold look that made Rhys’s stomach twist for many reasons. 

  “Fine I understand. I’m going to go make dinner.” Rhys got up and made his way over to the bathroom instead. He kneeled over the toilet, jacarandas spilling out of his mouth. At least they aren’t roses, he thought bitterly. 

  Jack insisted that he could eat solid foods just fine, but Rhys knew from experience that probably wouldn’t be a good idea without proper medication. 

  Proper medication that Rhys hadn’t had access to in a week because he’s been at his boss's beck and call ever since he watched Jack hack up three bloody roses on the floor. 

  His condition was getting worse, he could feel it. He’s had to step out more and more to deal with his problem. And just being around Jack in itself made his condition worse enough. 

  It was only a matter of time before it slipped out and Jack threw him out. God if only he could just get over his stupid crush. 

  Rhys was careful not to get kalmias in the smoothie he was making. He’d have to go shopping soon too, they were running out of supplies. Though Jack probably got everything delivered. 

  Jack glared at the cup in Rhys’s hand. He was tired of eating out of a straw. But at least Rhys seemed to know what he was doing. 

  He was running out of time and he knew it. It was only a matter of time before he suffocated on petals, or the roses and sunflowers fucked up his throat beyond repair, or worst of all, he accidentally confesses his feelings and scares Rhys off. 

  Why was Rhys staying with him anyway? It wasn’t like Jack asked him too, and Rhys wasn’t getting paid for any of this. Is it possible Rhys could like him back?

  Jack immediately regretted letting himself go down that train of thought. He could feel a sunflower pushing his way up his throat. Sunflowers were the worst. Sure less thorns, but god were they huge and seemed to come up the most. 

  Rhys frowned sympathetically, reaching out to massage his throat. Normally Jack would murder someone for getting so handsy, but he wasn’t in any position to snap at him. Besides it was helping. Has been helping for the past few days.  

  “Jack! Please let me remove your mask.” Rhys said, trying to be soft. This felt big and it would certainly help if there wasn’t a mask in the way. 

  Jack glared, trying to push Rhys away against his better judgement. In his defense he was loopy from oxygen deprivation. 

  Rhys sighed, future him could deal with the consequences of reaching out and undoing the latches and throwing the mask onto the floor. Rhys tried not to let his gaze dwell on the deep scar running down Jack’s face. He focused on soothing Jack and keeping him calm. He could feel his own throat tightening with petals. 

  Slowly he helped Jack up, bringing him down the hall to the bathroom. Petals were already seeping from Jack’s scarred lips. 

  Jack could feel the sunflower’s head hit the back of his mouth, making him gag. Rhys brought him into a kneeling position over the bowl. Jack shoved his hand into his mouth, trying to yank it out, also against any logic. 

  Rhys winced as he pulled out a sunflower the size of his head. It would be beautiful if it weren’t covered in blood.  

  “Remember to breathe through your nose. Doesn’t try and force anything out. Just relax your throat and let it all fall out.” Rhys kept his voice calm, an emotion he absolutely did not feel. He grabbed his stomach, suddenly going into a coughing fit. Shit not right now. 

  Jack wasn’t sure what he felt as he watched Rhys spit out kalmias. Well he didn’t know what he felt besides pain and envy. 

  “Shit!” Rhys said, once he got it out of his system. “I’m sorry!” 

  Jack grabbed the front of Rhys’s shirt and pulled him in, locking their lips together. Rhys froze, his brain lagging behind everything else. Was Jack kissing him or was he finally dying and his brain was making him happy before he goes. 

  Jack wasn’t thinking at all. It wasn’t a kiss out of love, Handsome Jack did not love.

  Okay fuck it, Jack was stupidly in love. Stupid, stupid, stupid feelings! Rhys already loved someone else and was probably going to run off as soon as Jack let go. 

  So just never let go, Jack’s possessive side said. Jack hugged Rhys tighter, kissing him harder.

  So this was real. Rhys melted, having trouble keeping up with the kiss. Tears spilled down his cheeks, he wasn’t sure if they were his or Jack’s. He felt his lungs twist and he shoved Jack back.

  Five years of roots were coming up all at once. Rhys braced himself, grabbing Jack’s hand hard enough to hurt.

  Jack was about to say something but was interrupted by a sudden lurch as his own roots forced their way out. They weren’t as deep, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

  After several minutes of hacking up repressed feelings, they both collapsed on the floor. 

  “So…” Rhys said, cringing at how his voice sounded. “How’d you get that scar?” 

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Jack said, voice squally scratchy. “I don’t want to talk at all.” Jack cupped Rhys’s cheek and pulled him into a kiss, and Rhys happily let him. 

  Maybe Handsome Jack could love, just this once. 

***

“There you two are! I’ve been trying to contact you for days!” Timothy said, glaring at his boss. “You can’t just say you need me to take charge of Helio’s for a while and then not give me any information! And where have you been!?” He points at Rhys. “You’re supposed to fill me in on what’s going on. I’ve been winging it for a week!”

  Rhys gave him a nervous smile, taking Jack’s hand. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Tim who was starting to deflate. 

  “I told you I was sick.” Jack said. “Rhys was taking care of me.”

  “Whatever. Just don’t complain to me about all the work you have left over. And don’t forget to pay me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll ECHO you later. Don’t you have a girlfriend to run home too?” Jack really just wanted some alone time. Well alone with Rhys time. 

  “Fiancée.” Tim corrected. Jack could tell his dopplegӓnger was blushing slightly under his identical mask. “I’ll see myself out. Congrats on finally getting together.” 

  “Finally?” Rhys asked, but Tim had already skipped out. 

  “Don’t mind him.” Jack said, kissing his cheek in an oddly gentle way. “We have work to catch up on.”

  Rhys smiled, pulling Jack into a kiss. “I’ll get your coffee then, sir.”

  Jack shamelessly stared at Rhys’s ass as he walked off. Yeah this could work out.