#maybe i just went into it with the wrong frame of mind. i usually really love evidence/logic based puzzle mysterys

[dreampearls]

finished the first two acts of fontaine w my sister :D it was. hm

[loulovingho]

if you're still doing prompts: maybe eddie thinks he sees tommy cheating and confronts him only to find out just how wrong he is. thanks!

“Sorry, man, I can't. I took an extra shift.” That was what Tommy had told Eddie when Eddie asked if he wanted to go to their usual sports bar for beer and wings.

Which is why Eddie was very curious as to why Tommy was walking down the street, passing right by the bar on his way to wherever he was going.

Eddie kept watching as Tommy reached the crosswalk, stopping as he waited for traffic to clear.

Buck wasn't with him, but some other guy appeared to be. At least, he kept talking to Tommy, leaning in close and laughing at something Tommy said.

“This can't be good,” Eddie muttered. He could feel himself starting to get heated already.

The light at the crosswalk changed just as Eddie threw a twenty down for the wings he ordered but hadn't gotten yet. He hurried out of the bar and managed to make it to the crosswalk just as the hand lit up telling him not to cross.

He crossed anyway.

Eddie waved off the honks and hid behind a building until he was sure Tommy wouldn't be looking back toward the noise.

Slowly he peeked around the building and glanced around until he spotted Tommy again. He and this guy were continuing down the street, so that's what Eddie did too.

He made sure to keep enough distance between them, but honestly Tommy looked so enthralled with whatever conversation they were having that Eddie was pretty sure he wouldn't be noticed anyway.

He had half a mind to whip out his phone and start taking pictures and videos. Get proof of whatever was happening so he'd have evidence when he told Buck.

Because he had to tell Buck.

Because Buck was all in on this relationship. He was undeniably in love with Tommy. Together for a year now, living with one another for four months, and Buck often talked about their future.

He had to tell him before papers were signed; before things were made official.

It would break Buck's heart. Eddie knew that. He'd be out of it for weeks, maybe even months.

But how could Eddie let this continue while knowing that Tommy was a backstabbing, two-timing, cheating skank?

Okay, maybe he was beyond heated. It was possible he was livid.

It didn't make it any better that the two men had stopped now, and this unknown homewrecker was reaching out and putting his hand on Tommy's shoulder.

“Hey!” Eddie yelled before he could stop himself.

Tommy's head jerked toward him, wide-eyed. Like a deer in headlights. “Eddie. What... I-hi.”

“Hi? That's what you have to say to me? Hi?”

Tommy's face went from surprised to confused. “Would you prefer hello?”

“Don't play dumb with me, man! How could you do something like this?”

“You gotta help me out here, Eddie. What'd I do?”

“You lied to me, for one.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Sorry, Eddie, I just had this thing I had to do today and I didn't want anyone knowing about it.”

“That's what you call this? A thing? Right in front of him?” He motioned to the man, who seemed a bit anxious at the moment.

“Well, it's not like he doesn't know what I'm doing.”

“Of course he knows! Buck's the only one who doesn't know. Have you thought about that? Have you spared a second to think about your boyfriend in all of this?”

“He's kinda all I've been thinking about during this.”

Eddie put one hand on his hip, the other pointed at Tommy. “I'm so close to punching you right in the face, Tommy.”

“I'd rather you didn't,” Tommy deadpanned. “Eddie, would you like to meet Gordon? He's the owner of the jewelry shop we're standing in front of.”

“You're cheating on Buck with Gordon? Really, Tommy? Gordon?” Part of Eddie felt a little bad. Gordon wasn't a bad looking guy. He was shorter than both of them, short brown hair and even browner eyes. He wasn't very muscular, but the suit he wore fit him well. Tattoos peeked out from underneath his collar, and the black frame of his glasses really tied the whole look together.

Still, he wasn't Buck, and they both needed to know that!

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “I'm doing what with who now?” he asked as Gordon shook his head nervously.

“Oh, no. That, um. No.”

“And you're gonna do it in his jewelry store? Shame on you, Tommy. Shame!”

“Eddie, I'm gonna need you to take it down like ten notches. I'm not cheating on Evan.”

“Then what's with the lying?” Eddie questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. “And Gordon?”

“Like I said before, Gordon owns the jewelry shop we're standing in front of. We met a few months ago on a call. We got to talking and that's when he told me about this place. He's usually closed today, but he was kind enough to bring me here on his day off so I could pick up the ring.”

Sometimes it took Eddie a minute to connect the dots, but he always got there. “Ring?” he questioned, his tone lighter now.

“Yeah. Ring.”

“You mean like an eng-”

“Engagement ring, yes.”

“Oh... Oh!” Now Eddie was smiling brightly, holding out his hand to Gordon for a shake. “Great to meet you, man! I'm Eddie.”

“H- Hi, Eddie.” Gordon returned the shake, but he was still a little nervous, and very confused.

“Gordon,” Tommy explained, “Eddie is Evan's best friend. I was supposed to hang out with him today, but I lied and said I had to work. My mistake.”

“Mm,” Gordon nodded. “It's starting to make sense now. Would you both like to come in?”

“Yes, we would,” Eddie answered, following behind Gordon as he unlocked the door.

“I'll go get it from the back,” Gordon said, locking the door back once they were inside. “It may take me a minute, but shouldn't be too long.”

Once Gordon had left them in the front of the store, Tommy turned to Eddie. “I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on Evan. Are you crazy?”

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “I couldn't believe it, that's why I was so mad! Why didn't you tell me this is what you were doing?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “I was nervous. Figured if he said no, at least no one would know I'd asked.”

“He's not gonna say no.”

“You don't know that.”

“Dude, he's not gonna say no.”

“But what if he does, Eddie? What if I screw it up somehow?” Tommy rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. “I want it to be perfect. He deserves that.”

Gordon came back out then, box in hand. “Here you go, Mr. Kinard. Make sure everything is perfect before you pay.”

“You didn't have to pay for it yet?” Eddie asked as Tommy took the box.

“No,” Tommy answered, glancing up at Eddie. “Another kind thing he did was let me wait until it was engraved before I paid. Because he's a nice person.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, then turned to Gordon. “Sorry for calling you a homewrecker, man. I didn't mean it.”

“I... I didn't know you called me a homewrecker.”

“That might've been in my head. Still, sorry.”

Gordon felt in a little over his head here. This Eddie person was... interesting. “That's okay.”

Tommy stared down at the ring, biting at his lip.

“Gordon,” Eddie flashed him a smile, “could you give us a couple more minutes? Then we'll pay and be out of your hair.”

“No problem.”

Once he'd retreated back to his office, Eddie moved closer to Tommy. “What's engraved on it?”

Tommy pulled the ring out of the box and handed it to Eddie. Silver with a gold band running down the center, dots and dashes on the inside. “It's um, it's morse code. It just says “ILY” for I love you, obviously, but the morse code is the special part.”

“Why's that?”

Eddie watched as Tommy smiled at whatever memory was popping into his head. “They still taught morse code when I was in the army, and when Evan found out I knew it he was determined to learn. We'd practice every time we were together.”

“I remember him doing that at work too.”

Tommy nodded. “Yup. He had it down in a month. We still use it whenever we can. He'll tap something out on my thigh, or even blink something at me from across a room.”

Eddie placed the ring back into the box. “Propose to me.”

Tommy stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Propose to me,” he repeated.

“Wh... Why, exactly?”

“You said you were worried the proposal wouldn't be perfect. That you'd screw it up. Practice on me, and I'll let you know.”

“That's insane.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Two months ago you and I parachuted out of a plane when the engine failed and got lost in the mountains for nearly two days. That was insane. This is being prepared.”

Tommy looked down at the ring, then to Eddie, then back at the ring, then back at Eddie. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Eddie clapped his hands together. “Okay, go.”

After a slow inhale, he began. “Evan.”

“Yes, Pooh Bear?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, tilting his head. “He doesn't call me that.”

“I've seen the texts, man.”

“Forget it. I'm not doing this with you.”

As he turned to walk away, Eddie grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him back in. “Okay, okay. I'll be serious. Now, come on. Propose to me.”

Tommy sighed. “Fine, but I'm not kneeling.”

“That's okay, I'll pretend.”

Tommy straightened his posture and cleared his throat before beginning again.

“Evan.”

“Tommy.”

“Growing up, I never thought I'd find love. Not real love, anyway. I thought that maybe, if I was lucky, I could fabricate it. Play pretend and be fine with settling. Then, as I got older, I realized how unfair that was to me, and to whoever I would have ended up with.”

Tommy blinked away the tears that were blurring his vision as he continued. “I went through life with people, friends and colleagues that kept me busy, but I felt alone. And then you came along, and you lit up my world. Every doubt that I had collected over time slowly washed away with each smile we shared. Getting to do life with you over this past year has been an honor. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep. If you would, I'd love us to have each other for the rest of our lives. So, Evan,” Tommy opened the box, presenting the ring to Eddie. “Will you marry me?”

Eddie stood there, staring between the ring and Tommy for what felt like an eternity, his own eyes red-rimmed and doe-like. “Holy hell,” he managed to utter out.

Nervously, Tommy asked, “You think he'll say yes?”

“Well, if he doesn't, I will!” Eddie took a step forward and wrapped Tommy in a hug, earning a surprised, “Oomph,” out of him.

“Yes,” Eddie said, patting his back. “He'll say say.”

When he finally pulled away, Tommy was smiling. He let out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. So, buy the ring, then?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, man. Buy the ring.”

[oracle-of-dream]

Favorite Seat

Minors DNI

Summary: Jay never complained when you’d sit on him, for comfort or pleasure. But sometimes, Jay would almost beg you to sit on his lap.

Warnings: Male Reader, Dry humping, PDA, Inscure Sunoo x Sunghoon, Cumming untouched, Slight Exhibitionism

Word count: 1.9K

“Are you ready, babe?” Jay called from downstairs as he paced the living room. He was already dressed for the day out with you.

Jay agreed to go see his friends today and they all encouraged him to bring you. It would be the first time you’d meet them, and he was more than a little anxious.

You walked down the stairs, “just finished. Relax, Jay,” you assured him.

The look in his eyes was a mix of pride and anxiety. “You won’t be cold or anything? I can bring my jacket,” Jay didn’t wait for a response as he was already moving to the closet to get his jacket.

“Hon, I think you’re overreacting. It’ll all be fine,” you kissed his cheek as he brought the jacket to you. “I know everything will be fine. As long as we’re together, tonight will be great.”

Jay nodded his head, his slicked-back hair softly shaking. “You’re right, I don’t know why it’s bothering me so bad. Maybe I just need to breathe,” Jay pulled you into his embrace by the waist as he breathed in your scent. “Better already,” he chuckled as he let you go. He awkwardly shifted in his pants, pulling them up while also raising one leg.

“Really? Hard from just a hug?” You teased.

Jay’s ears went pink, “You just do something to me… I didn’t mean to.” As you reached down to touch your boyfriend, he caught your hand, “Y/n, we can’t! We’re going to be late…”

“We can be quick,” you lean your body against his. His hands automatically fell onto your hips as he felt you grind against him.

“N-No! We can do that later,” Jay struggled against you.

You backed off, “Okay if you think you can hold on. Then I don’t mind.” Jay is the kind of person who was always honest and true to his ideas, so if he promised something later then he’d keep that promise. But you couldn’t help but feel a little want to pounce on him when he was being so cutely vulnerable.

Jay drove you to the meetup. It was a cool restaurant he picked out, one that the two of you had been to before so he knew there would be something you liked. Jay was a nervous planner, down to even who’d arrive in what order. And he was rarely wrong too.

First was Jungwon. He was a shorter boy, with a thin frame but you could tell he was in shape. He was friendly and smiled often, what stood out to you was his bright red hair and how hard he laughed when telling goofy stories.

Next was Sunoo and Sunghoon. A short king and his tall prince. You didn’t want to assume they were a couple, but Sunghoon’s energy towards Sunoo was extremely different from everyone else. Jay would have to fill you in later.

Heeseung, Jake, and Ni-ki came last. Heeseung was the one who had to pick the other two up, so he’d usually end up being late. Especially because Jake would sleep for too long.

After everyone arrived, the food Jay had ordered when you’d gotten there was just arriving. He’d ordered something you mentioned was good from last time as well as new dishes you wanted to try. The others weren’t too picky so they were fine with everything that was brought out.

You were seated on the patio, there was a heater near your chair in case you got cold. Jay also offered his jacket to you four times, probably trying to predict when you’d eventually ask for it.

Sunoo mentioned needed to go to the bathroom, and you felt the urge to go with him. So the two of you, plus his shadow went to the bathroom. Sunghoon didn’t have to go, so he waited outside next to the door.

While washing your hands, Sunoo spoke to you, “So you can Jay, huh?”

“Yeah! What’s the story with tall, pale, and eyebrows outside?” You pointed at the door but whispered hoping Sunghoon wouldn’t hear you.

“We’re an item too,” Sunoo shyly confessed, “None of the members know directly yet, but I have a feeling that Sunghoon isn’t very subtle…”

You shook your head, “I’m afraid he’s exposing you hella.”

Sunoo shrugged, “Well we’re happy. And I’m glad there’s another couple in the group! It felt sorta awkward being the only couple, so we never tried to show it in front of the others…”

“Don’t be shy! Everyone seems nice, and I’m sure everyone would be cool. If you want, I’ll show some PDA to Jay a little too,” you winked.

Sunoo mulled it over, his fingers pinching at his sleeves, “You’d really do it with us?”

You nodded, “Yeah!”

You knew Jay wasn’t much of a PDA person, but he also wouldn’t deny you if you approached him. “Just be natural and it will come to you, and Sunghoon will pick it up,” Sunoo followed you out of the bathroom and Sunghoon followed the two of you back to the table.

Jay looked up at you expectantly, opening his jacket a little. Offering it again…

You whisper to him, “Let me sit with you.”

Jay didn’t hesitate to scoot back and let you sit on his lap, but you could feel his nerves spiking at you approaching him so suddenly. You gently sat in between Jay’s legs as he laid one hand on your thigh and the other on the arm of his chair.

No one said anything, Jake poked Heeseung and pointed at the two of you which made him look up from his food. The two of them smiled at each other, exchanging looks between each other.

You watched Sunoo as he looked at you. Giving him a wink of confidence, you nodded for him to try being physical with his boyfriend.

Sunoo nodded gently and put his hand on Sunghoon’s leg, near his hand. Sunghoon’s expression moved to surprise as he looked at Sunoo for confirmation. Asking if it was okay to touch him.

They exchanged glances, and Sunghoon took Sunoo’s hand in his. His smile was big and didn’t fade, while Sunoo kept interacting with the others.

It was so cute watching them slowly scoot closer together until their chairs were touching. You even caught a glimpse of Jake leaning on Heeseung, which piqued your interest but you decided you’d meddled enough. Jay was getting more comfortable with everyone in front of you. He let his hand sit on your hip and would rub your side to make sure you’re okay.

After the food came the drinks. It had been a while since Jay had drunk with friends, and you’d never seen him drink with his friends.

Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon drank the most. Jake tried but wasn’t keeping up, with Jungwon swapping his drink for juice when he wasn’t looking. Ni-Ki and Sunoo entertained themselves by messing with their drink buddies while you sipped at your drink. You felt it was probably best you didn’t get yourself drunk in front of everyone on the first time you met them…

It wasn’t until Jay lifted you and placed you closer to him that you felt how hard he was. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was sneaking in friction with your ass as he moved in his chair. Nothing to show the others but you could tell he was going to be a handful. You moved back to your chair, claiming it was so he didn’t spill any alcohol on you, but Jay was saddened by not having you with him.

Sunghoon ended up pulling Sunoo out of their seat and into his lap, sitting him on one of his legs. His arm locked around Sunoo’s waist. Sunoo tried to not think about it, but the pink hue in his ears showed how much he was enjoying it.

Jay leaned over to you, “How come they can sit together and we can’t?”

You smelled the alcohol on him, “it’s so you don’t make a mess, baby.”

Jay huffed, “I wouldn’t make a mess.”

You nodded, “Sure, hon.”

Jay leaned back and started man-spreading, almost displaying his bulge for his friends. He wasn’t usually the needy type but drunk Jay sure was. He was almost begging with his eyes for you to sit on him again.

“You’re not going to let this go are you?”

He shook his head, “No, I’m not.”

You sighed as you moved back to his lap, Jay catching you as you moved down onto him. He pulled you close and held you tight, his hardness poking at you.

You turned, “No funny business.”

Jay giggled at you, “You love funny business,” he pushed you down onto him as he pushed his hips up. He groaned in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s your fault anyway… It hasn’t gone away since earlier.”

He’d been hard since you left the house? You smiled to yourself, prideful at his love for you.

Jay kept himself pleased by occasionally rubbing against you, but his acting was spot on. No one seemed to notice anything, especially with the other two drunk boys at the table.

Sunghoon started bragging about how amazing of a partner Sunoo was. Jay chimed in mentioning you were the perfect partner. Then Heeseung casually mentioned Jake was better than you and Sunoo combined, leaving the group silent while they processed what they’d just heard.

Jake was the first one to react. “What!? Heeseung, why would you say that, we’re not- Guys we’re not a couple, it’s not like that!” Jake tried to defend himself but Heeseung made it pretty clear he wasn’t to take back what he’d said. He sealed his sentence by kissing Jake on the lips. Then Sunghoon kissed Sunoo.

Jay turned to you, “well?”

“Well, nothing. We’re not here to show off we’re a couple, baby.”

Jay’s shoulders slumped, “Not even one?”

With a sigh, you kissed Jay. His hand pulled you into his pelvis, taking advantage of your position, while his other hand held you to his lips.

Over half the table was making out with each other and Jay was tongue fucking you in front of his friends. You were feeling it until you felt Jay tense and shudder.

You pulled away from him, and spoke in a whisper, “Did you?”

Jay nodded, “I’m sorry, it just- happened.”

“How bad is it?”

Jay moved to let you see while using you to block everyone else’s view. There was a dark spot forming in his denim, and getting bigger.

“Are you still going!?”

Jay bit his lip, holding himself together with strands of sanity. He could only look up at you with slight shame.

You checked on his friends. They’d stopped kissing, and Jungwon and Ni-ki sat laughing at everyone. Sunoo was scolding Sunghoon for being embarrassing. Jake was still trying to deny anything while Heeseung looked like he was trying to dive in for a second round.

This would be the best time to leave.

“Hey guys, it was so awesome getting to me you all, but I think Jay’s ready to go home now,” you announced to the table.

There was an overall mumble of agreement and understanding.

The sober people figured out rides for everyone. You stopped drinking early on and didn’t even finish your drink, so you’d take Jay. Ni-ki would take Jake and Heeseung. Sunghoon and Sunno would ride with Jungwon since both seemed a little too distracted to drive safely.

Everyone went their separate ways as you helped Jay to his feet, covering his pants with his jacket and your body.

In the car, Jay kept whispering how much he loved you as he drifted off to sleep.

At least meeting his friends was interesting…

[peachhcs]

where did it go wrong?

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy tries reeling with everything a few days after the breakup in hopes that her brothers may have some advice for her.

2.2k words

i feel like i never write anything with samy and her brothers, so here's luke and quinn trying to comfort samy through the breakup that she's still trying to understand. p.s. these breakup posts aren't going to be posted in a set order, so i may jump around in the timeline a bit :p

au masterlist

samy flew home two days after the breakup. she didn’t want to crowd ryan’s house even when he told her she could stay for as long as she wanted (which in reality meant he wanted her to stay until her and will made up). the girl knew she needed to go, though. she wanted to be home with her brothers and family who she prayed wouldn’t give her shit when she told them what happened. she knew her brothers would want to give will hell, but samy had enough mind still to know that wasn’t fair. 

quinn, jack, and luke took themselves on a little fishing/camping expedition with their dad when samy got home, so she took those few days to just decompress and really comprehend everything that happened before those three bombarded her with a million questions. 

a tiny knock sounded on her door and then the heavy frame cracked open a few inches. ellen’s locks of blonde hair came in to check on her daughter. she knew she needed space, but mrs. hughes knew her kids well and when they needed her. 

“i made you some food downstairs,” ellen said gently. 

“thanks. i’m not that hungry right now,” samy managed a small smile even though they both knew it was fake. 

“how are you?” the older woman went to her daughter’s bed, sitting on the edge. the brunette shrugged. 

“i don’t know. weird? stupid?” a pitiful laugh fell from her lips. 

“oh, honey. you’re not stupid,” mrs. hughes wrapped samy into a tight hug which actually felt really nice. usually, samy wasn’t receptive to her parents’ touch, but right now she really needed it. 

“everything we’ve been through meant nothing to him. our friendship, ruined. i just..i don’t get what i did wrong,” the girl wanted to cry again despite her crying out everything she had the last two days. 

“no, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, baby. sometimes boys say one thing but they don’t actually mean it. maybe will’s just stressed about signing and it all came out the wrong way?” ellen tried. her words were genuine, but samy could never believe them knowing what her mom said was only trying to make her feel better. 

“it sounded like he meant everything he said. he couldn’t even look me in the eye, mom. i just..i feel so stupid and used,” her daughter’s words hurt ellen’s heart. the woman just squeezed her baby tighter in hopes that she could ease the pain that she knew all too well  being a teenager going through heartbreak. 

the hughes’ brothers came home that night. samy was fast asleep, but ellen kept herself awake in the living room having her late night tea. she smiled softly when all three of her boys came barreling into the room to greet her. 

“hey mom,” jack cheered, squeezing the older woman tightly. 

“hi, boys. how was your trip?” ellen beamed as she took turns giving out her “welcome home” hugs. 

“so great. we all caught massive 12 inchers. you should’ve seen them,” luke laughed as he dug for his phone to show the pictures. 

“they were massive! like this wide! never seen a fish so big like that before!” jack exclaimed before mrs. hughes quickly put a finger to her lips. 

“keep quiet. your sister’s asleep upstairs,” the boys immediately exchanged a glance. 

“samy’s here? i thought she was in boston for a few weeks?” quinn wondered. the look on their mom’s face quickly told them that wasn’t the case anymore and then the worry set in after. 

“it’s not my business to say, but your sister and will broke up,” ellen filled the boys in. 

a quick beat of silence passed between all of them before a “what” fell from luke’s lips. their mom’s tiny nod and wordless response told the boys that what they were hearing was in fact real. after that realization, their expressions twisted into shock. 

“wait, what happened? they broke up?” jack quickly asked for more details, but ellen shook her head. 

“i’m not gonna be the one to tell your sister’s business, but don’t bombard her tomorrow. she’s pretty beat up about it and i don’t want you harassing will either. let her tell you on her own time, promise?” ellen demanded knowing questions from them wouldn’t help.

the boys weren’t the greatest at minding their own business, but quinn, jack, and luke would comply since their own siblings rules were to not push one another into speaking about something if they did not want to. 

they just hoped this wasn’t as bad as it was sounding and their mom was making it out to be. 

—

the next day, luke found his sister first. he just woke up twenty minutes ago despite it being nearly 12 in the afternoon. as he trailed into the kitchen in search of food, he caught sight of samy sitting out on the back porch. the older boy debated for a second wondering if it was the right time to be asking, but he figured company wouldn’t hurt either way. 

he trailed outside with some cereal. samy gazed over at his warm smile while he took the chair next to hers. 

“mom said you guys caught big fish,” the girl began, managing a small smile.

“jesus, they were huge. i’ve never seen fish that big before,” luke laughed lightly. 

“i bet you dropped them,” the younger hughes teased making luke roll his eyes. 

“stop, i did not. you would’ve dropped them if you were there though,” the brunette smiled. 

“shut up,” samy rolled her eyes too. 

“wish you were there. would’ve been so fucking funny watching all four of us trying to camp together,” luke laughed again. his words made samy smile again before it slowly faded as her gaze fell on their yard. 

“yeah, me too,” she said quietly. her brother’s gaze fell on her as he studied her. he could tell how hurt she looked despite how much she tried hiding it. he didn’t know if it was appropriate bringing it up, but luke didn’t have to think much more because samy brought it up first. 

“i’m sure mom told you,” samy began. 

a small frown appeared on luke’s lips, “yeah..she did last night when we got home. i’m really, really sorry, samy.” 

“i don’t even know what happened. it looks like he doesn’t even fucking care after seeing his signing post,” the pictures dropped yesterday making will’s move to california official and the worst part of it all was how happy he looked in that fucking picture. 

“that can’t be true. he does care. he cares a lot about you,” luke tried. 

“not anymore, i guess. he said long distance wasn’t worth it for me and then everything between us meant nothing to him,” samy summed it up. luke’s jaw tightened hearing that. 

“he’s an idiot, samy. none of that is true, you know that.” 

all his sister could do was shrug because she thought she knew will like the back of her hand, but after what happened, she wasn’t quite sure anymore. he threw everything they had away just like that and now it looked like he was completely okay. a small sigh escaped luke’s lips seeing that he didn’t know what else to say besides how sorry he was for it. 

even he couldn’t believe will would do something like this. the boy’s known that kid his whole life and it looked like a lot was going to shift between everyone’s dynamic. 

“maybe you guys will be able to talk it out when july comes for the family vacation? like you guys just need some time apart or something to cool off a bit,” luke suggested a bit hopefully. 

“fuck, i forgot about that stupid vacaction. think mom would let me skip that?” samy groaned, head falling back out of frustration. 

seeing that reaction from her after samy always being excited for the hughes/smith vacation made luke realize how serious this breakup was. if samy was trying to get out of the vacation she’s loved for years, then maybe there wasn’t a chance of the two making up. 

“probably not, but i mean, it just happened. maybe things will feel different by the time july comes?” 

“are you for real trying to tell me how to feel about my boyfriend breaking up with me right now?” the younger hughes narrowed her eyes. 

“no, that’s not what i’m saying. i’m just saying that you guys were best friends. there’s history. that kind of shit can’t be thrown away that easily, no matter how much you wanna throw it away. plus, what happened to you guys staying friends even if you broke up?” the older boy inquired. 

“seems like that never mattered to him ever. this kind of thing can be thrown away, luke. just because we have history doesn’t mean it’s a fixer for everything.” 

luke backed off after that knowing he didn’t wanna argue with samy. Instead, he rubbed her shoulder in hopes that everything would work out and will and samy would be back to normal by the end of the summer. everyone had bumps in their relationships at one point or another. this was just a bump for the two. 

—

“if you’re out here to talk to me about my breakup, i’ve already heard it from mom and dad,” samy mumbled when she heard some footsteps behind her on the porch. they stopped momentarily, so she glanced over her shoulder to quinn frozen in place with two bowls in his hand. 

“i was just offering you some ice cream. i just picked it up,” the oldest hughes held the bowl out. samy studied her older brother for a moment as her expression softened out a bit. 

the breakup had made her a bit more meaner than she was before when she didn’t necessarily mean it. 

“oh, sorry. thank you,” she smiled. 

quinn took the spot beside her on the stairs as he handed her the bowl. the two didn’t speak much as they slowly ate their ice cream together and enjoying the sun slowing setting for the night. 

it was known that quinn wasn’t the one to pry into his siblings feelings. he always let them start speaking first if they even wanted to. the oldest hughes sat in the back more just happy to keep them company. they could hear jack and luke yelling at one another from the living room inside where they battled over some video game—one’s samy hated and quinn was a bit too old for. 

the comfortable silence lingered for a bit longer before samy decided to speak, “be honest with me quinn, do you think he was gonna break up with me all along?” 

her question caught the dark-haired guy off guard. he wasn’t expecting her to bring it up considering the two didn’t talk about feelings in this way with just each other before. 

“god, no. i never thought you guys would ever break up,” quinn said honestly. 

“then why do you think he did? i’ve been trying to run over every reason since i got home and i just..it doesn’t make sense to me,” samy frowned which in turn made quinn frown too. he always hated seeing his siblings sad. 

“when i was your age and got drafted i remember i had about a thousand thoughts running through my head at the idea of moving so far away from home at some point. the idea scared me, honestly. i’ve never been away from home like that. sometimes when people are going through these big changes, they make rash decisions thinking it’s for the best when it’s actually not. there’s a chance will could’ve been feeling..overwhelmed? scared? everything just came out the wrong way? i know those aren’t excuses, but big changes in people’s lives make them a totally different person,” the oldest hughes answered honestly. 

in some ways, he knew all too well about those feelings will could be feeling. moving to a new state anywhere far away from home sent a lot of anxiety into people when they didn’t even realize it. 

“i guess. i just feel so stupid. like why didn’t he talk to me more? why did he just choose this option first,” the girl mumbled. 

“it’s hard to say. i’m sorry this happened. breakups are the worst.” 

“how do you get over breakups?” samy wondered hoping quinn had some expert older brother advice that might make her feel better. 

“well, i’d usually head to the rink and shoot pucks around until i nearly broke my stick. i think getting any of your anger out is the first step to anything, then your mind will become a little more clear without the angry, rash decisions that you were just thinking of in the moment,” samy wondered why she didn’t go to quinn more often for advice. 

“okay mr. wise guy. i forgot being 24 makes you wise because your brain finished developing,” the brunette teased a bit earning a small eye roll from her brother. 

“i guess. i’m always here for you, yeah?” he nudged her leg with his own and samy nodded. 

“yeah, thanks quinny,” the siblings sat there for a little bit longer together with samy’s head on quinn’s shoulder. it wasn’t often they got to spend time together by themselves, so samy would savor it while she could before her oldest brother got whisked away again for hockey. 

[ihrtnemi]

Hi! Can you write a story about shinobu getting caught watching pillar!reader train? Maybe this wouldn't be the first time they caught her watching, just the first time they say something about it? The reader is strong, and tall in frame and shinobu secretly has a crush on them. Thank you!

A Night To Remember

CW: Gender Neutral - Shinobuxreader WC: 980 Header:https://ph.pinterest.com/pin/87960998964233319/ First request that I made! Im so happy!! I hope you guys like the short oneshot that I made, I also dont know if I made it as envisioned by anonymous (crying) DO NOT REPOST/REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

As The Mirage Pillar, you were a skilled fighter. You used quick and precise techniques that left behind images, used to trick demons. It was created by you and it was derived from Thunder Breathing. 

You were new to the entire “Hashira” thing and often avoided every pillar that scared you. You've been observing every pillar ever since you became one and concluded that everyone was intimidating. However, there were still some that approached you, even with the timidness that you showed. There was Mitsuri Kanroji, she was a fun and bubbly person whom you liked talking to and then there was Shinobu. Shinobu was kind, she spoke and looked smart but she always carried a frightening aura wherever she went. It shook you the wrong way but you let it pass. 

You weren't shy, you were just overwhelmed with everything and you didn't really feel like you were good enough to be a Hashira yet. 

So, it led you to training aggressively in the day. During these training sessions, you would always sense someone watching you. You let it go since it was daytime and it was probably just an animal. 

But, as days passed, the strange feeling never left you whenever you trained. You tried looking at your surroundings and walked over to your gate. To your surprise, the strong scent of a clinic hit your nose hard. “Smells weirdly similar to Shinobu.” you thought. 

You didn't think that Shinobu would stalk you though, so you thought she was just passing by.

You then asked your crow to survey the area while you trained during the next few days. Your crow did as asked and to your horror, you found out that Shinobu has indeed been watching you train for the past few days. 

“Maybe the master just ordered her to see how i'm doing?” you thought, you still weren't sure though. 

“I'll just ask her the next time I see her” you thought. 

The next day, you sensed her presence near the gate and finally decided to confront her. You walked towards the gate and saw her. 

“Hi Shinobu!” you greeted her kindly. 

She then turned to you, with a startled expression..

“Oh! (Y/N)!” she said with a hint of surprise and embarrassment.

You then walked closer to her, towering over her frame. “Uhm, can I ask? Did the master ask you to spy on me?”

“Well, of course yes! Why else would I even be here?” she blushed. 

She then moved on and said, “I'll get going now,” she turns away and tries to leave.

“You know, you can just sit and watch me train rather than, uh, spying on me. I wouldn't mind training with you either!” you said.

She turned back around, “That would be lovely,” smiling. 

After that, you and Shinobu started getting closer . She would usually sit back and watch you train, on rare occasions, she would even spar with you. 

You did notice the blush she had on whenever she was with you, but she always looked calm and collected. “Maybe she has rosy cheeks?” you thought. 

It was another day of training and it was an exhausting one. You just finished an extremely long mission but still decided to train instead of rest. 

“(Y/N),” Shinobu said sternly. “You should rest, this isn't good for your body!” she looked at you menacingly. 

“I guess you're right.” you then went to a nearby bench, waiting for her to sit down next to you. 

“I'm so tired,” you said, exaggerating. 

“Lay down on my lap.” she said. 

“Huh?” with confusion but you still did as told. 

You then layed on her lap looking at her, she was very pretty. She had fair skin and pretty eyes, you wondered why she hasn't started modeling. 

“You're so strong, (Y/N),” she looked at you smiling, she then started playing with your hair. You could feel heat rising up to your cheeks. 

You and Shinobu have been friends for some time now but it was never this intimate between you two.  

“Meet me at the garden of the butterfly estate at midnight?” she asked. 

“Sure.”

She then left to attend to her activities. 

A few hours passed and it was finally midnight. You started running towards the butterfly estate, being a bit late. Then, you finally arrived. 

“Shinobu!” shouting, “I'm sorry I'm a bit late! I tried running as fast as I could,” You then lost your speech at the scenery. 

It was beautiful, it had blue and purple flowers with the fireflies and the moon illuminating the scene. It also had a gazebo?!

You then saw Shinobu standing at the Gazebo watching you, and you started walking towards her. 

“I never knew there was a Gazebo here?” you looked at her, “It's also way prettier here than the last time I saw it” you smiled.

“It was added just today,” she said quietly. “Are you okay, Shinobu?” you asked, concerned.

“I have something to tell you,” she said seriously, “You're one of the kindest people that I know. You're a strong, passionate person and ever since I saw you, I knew that it was fate when I met you,” she then trailed off. 

“I like you, I've had a crush on you ever since I met you.” you could see the blush on her face, she was very red. 

At that moment, you knew that you also liked her. “Shinobu is nice, pretty, charming, cute, smart, lovable, and just amazing” you thought, while looking at her. Your cheeks felt hot and you looked away. 

“You don't have to give me an answer right now,” she held your hands, “I can wait.” looking at you. 

“I like you too.” 

“Really?” she asked.

“Yes”

—

Bonus Scene:

“So, are we like dating?” you asked

“I don't mind,” she said. 

“Omg, we're dating.” you said in disbelief. 

Authors Note: I feel like theres just something missing in my writing can you guys give me tips? Also! please send me requests on the anime's that I put in my masterlist!

By the way, if i dont respond to requests that means that I dont have the interest to write it, Im sorry. :(

[jowrites]

"If I buy a car, will you take me on late night drives?" - Part 1

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader. Where 2 neighbors befriend one another because of his dog, and she doesn't have any friends.

TW: Isolation(?), mentions of being a lone(r), mentions of parent death

Jake liked to think of himself as a disciplined man. When he had a goal and set his mind to it, nothing could stray him and he always managed to achieve it. He came from a good home, good family, he had good friends, and attended University and has a good job. He works hard. He worked incredibly hard to get the nice studio loft he had been dreaming of since he saw it. The location was perfect, near his University and by the College of Engineering where he was doing his internship. He was on cloud 9.

When he moved in he loved how quiet things were. The first week of moving in he wondered if he had a neighbor across the way or if the place was vacant and that's what made it so quiet. He figured that's what it had to be and every time he took his dog, Layla, out for a walk he would look at the door across the way and have this odd feeling that he wasn't alone. Because he wasn't.  One day, he came home later than usual and he heard the faint noise of music playing. He was familiar with the sound, it was “Cry” by Cigarettes After Sex which so happened to be one of his favorite artists. He stood outside his door just listening to the song, until suddenly the door across the hall swung open and one of the most beautiful people he had ever laid eyes on stood in front of him. 

She had a trash bag in her hands, her hair was tied up, glasses framed her face, and she was in a pink overalls and a white tank top. Her whole being was covered in paint. She stared at him before shrugging and walking to the trash shoot to dump her trash. Jake snapped out of his zone, amazed he did indeed have a neighbor he finally confirmed after being there for a month, he just had to get her name.

“So there IS someone that lives across from me,” he smiled.

“You talking to me?” she asked, stunned as she stopped in her tracks and looked around. 

“Well, we are the only 2 people here. I'm Jake, it's nice to meet you,” He held out his hand.

“Y/N. See ya!” And with that she waved goodbye and quickly went back inside and closed her door.

 Jake was left speechless. Did he do something wrong? Is she afraid of him? Maybe she just needs to warm up to him. He couldn't help but have her on his mind, and for the rest of the night she was flooding his mind. When he laid down to go to bed, he stared up at his ceiling with his neighbor across the way still on his mind. 

He didn't see her for another 2 weeks after that. He was so curious about her. Who was she? What did she do? Did she go to school? One thing he assumed was that she liked art or was an artist given she was literally covered in paint. One day, he opened his door to take Layla for a walk when he ran into her coming home. She had a duffel bag on her and Layla got out of his grip and ran straight to her.

“Layla, no!” He ran after his dog. Layla, was fine as his neighbor, knelt down on the floor petting the white creature. 

“Layla, I think he's talking to you,” He heard her say. “It’s okay, I don't like to listen either.”

“I'm sorry about her, she gets excited especially with new people,” he explained as he grabbed Layla’s leash.

“Hm. I love dogs, so you can stay I guess,” She stood up not taking her eyes off Layla. Jake tilted his head, finding it a bit odd but moved on.

“Ah, thank you for the approval,” He jokes.

“Really, thank your dog, she can stay, you're just a plus one. See ya around!” She waved before opening her door and closing it in his face. Did his dog just one up him with the pretty neighbor?

To Jake, it didn't seem like you were scared to speak to him, but you avoided him it seemed like. He also noticed how he almost disappeared when Layla was around, your attention fully on her and her only. This became a habit. Every so often Layla would escape and run to your door scratching or barking until you opened it. You would open the door and let her in only to close it in his face and not open it. The first time it happened Jake was mad, he thought you kidnapped his dog. 

“You can't just take someone's dog without permission! How do I know you're not going to harm her?” He voiced.

“Oh, I would never do that! We had some things to discuss. She's welcome anytime!” You smiled, finally reaching his eyes before going your way.

He got used to the way you were around him. He would let Layla go as it seemed she truly enjoyed your company and you hers. She was never harmed and always seemed to be around no more than 10 minutes at most. He would wait until you opened the door and you would be in a full conversation with the dog as if you two were actually speaking to one another. 

“You know, some people might think you're crazy for talking to a dog,” He had his arms across his chest.

“What do you mean a dog? Layla’s not a dog, she's a friend,” Again, you left Jake laughing at your words. Your mind stunned him.

There wasn't anything wrong with you, you just didn't have many friends and you lived a very isolated lifestyle with just you and your cats. You prefer the company of animals more to the company of people. After 4 months of this going on, you started talking to Jake more too. He wasn't so bad and he always seemed to try and stay on your good side which you appreciated. You didn't understand why he tried so hard, but he started understanding your language more and so I guess he was a nice neighbor. Then one night, everything changed for him and for you.

He came home late. It was actually very late but he got stuck with things at the University and so he was forced to stay longer. When he got home the moon was bright and the hall was dark. He was so focused on getting to Layla to check on her he almost missed your form leaning up against the windowsill at the end of the hall. When he opened his door, Layla immediately ran out and ran straight to you. It's like she knew something was wrong and when he approached you the tears down your face really struck a chord in his heart.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked quietly, not wanting to disturb you.

“It's just SO sad! Isn't it sad, Layla?” You turned to the dog before crying again. He then realized your slurred words and concluded you were drunk.

“What’s sad?” He knelt down to your level, not once leaving your side.

“I don't have anyone to go on late night drives with,” you admitted. 

“Late night drives? You want to go on a late night drive?” He frowned, feeling confused but also wanted to understand more of what goes on in your head.

“I want to go on late night drives, but I have no one to take me,” You hiccuped clutching your cheeks in your hands.

“Well, I'll go with you,” He offered and your face perked up.

“You will!?! C-can you drive?” You asked him and he nodded.

“Yes, I have my license,” he chuckled. “My only problem is I don't have a car. I never needed one.”

“Oh no, that's not going to work. If I buy a car will you take me on late night drives?” You asked.

“Buy a car? You want to buy a car just to go on late night drives?” His eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

“Yes, yes I will. I want to go on late night drives, it's my dream,” you cried again leaning your head on his shoulder as he started comforting you.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “If you buy a car, I'll take you on late night drives.”

And that's how it started. It was 4 nights later and Jake hadn't seen or heard from you so he assumed you were too drunk to remember. That was, until he heard a knock on his door at 10:30 PM at night, currently a Thursday and he was just about to go to bed. He opened his door to a very excited you. You were dressed in jeans with a black leather jacket and white tank underneath.  Your hair was down and you looked awake and ready for something.

“Oh, this is a cute look! It's time to go,” You held up a key, not just any key: a car key. 

Jake's mouth dropped, he was in the middle of brushing his teeth and he couldn't believe you were here in his presence being serious.

He ushered you to come inside as he quickly went to clean up his face and rinse his mouth. You took a look in his apartment and noticed how clean it was, neatly decorated and it smelled like cedarwood and grass. Layla came running to you and you quickly embraced her, giving her hugs and pets. You and Jake seemed to be the opposite but you didn't mind.

“You were ACTUALLY serious?” He asked you.

“I'm always serious, I never lie,” You said. 

“You ACTUALLY bought a car? Who are you? You're like this...this person I can't figure out,” He was in such disbelief, he really could not understand you.

“Well, I'm Y/N. I got a large inheritance after my parents died and I just bought a car, now let's go!” You hopped up in excitement. “You told me you would take me on a late night drives.”

Jake felt sad. He didn't know your life story or who you actually were but sharing little details here and there just made him want to embrace you even more. You were such an enigma to him, and now he was afraid that if he poked too much you would run away. 

“Okay, I did yeah. Let me get changed and we can go.”

And so that's how it started. Almost every night for 3 weeks straight you would come to him and say you wanted to go for a drive and he would take you. He learned you had your license but you hated driving. You prefer to be driven around and he didn't blame you. You don't go out much and he learned you have an Estate that you look after that's outside the city. He also learned you were indeed an artist and sold paintings to your parents wealthy elite friends and made a good living from that.

“Can I ask you something?” Jake spoke up. 

It was a Saturday night, almost 3 AM and you and Jake were out strolling around the City. 

“Whats up?” You looked over at him, giving him your attention.

“Where are your friends?” He asked. 

“I don't have any friends,” You said. 

“What do you mean? Like…at all?” He frowned.

“Well, if you count the people at my family's estate then they're all there. That's where they are,” You shrugged. “My butler I grew up with, he's more like an Uncle now.”

“You didn't have any friends at school?” He asked.

“I didn't go to school, I was tutored at home,” You said. “Well, you're my friend too, right?”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” He smiled looking over at you.

“Then you're right here. Here is where my friend is,” You smiled at him. “Oh, I miss Layla.”

Of course, Layla.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Week 7 - It’s just a cold, Izu!

Summary: Midoriya can’t handle his love ones being sick and Y/N can’t handle Izuku when he’s freaking out for no reason. The duo has their first proper fight but Mama Katsuki and Auntie Inko are here to help.

Warnings: Swear words, a bit of angst, Y/N has a cold.

First Part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Things went back to the good old ways after all the drama during the camp; Midoriya worked a full week without a single day off, you worked your ass off on your commissions to have some money to buy the latest hero merch, All Meowth continued to get fatter and fatter so you decided to alter his fancy ass feeder but even though Midoriya isn’t home at all he somehow still manages to change the settings back in those 5 fucking hours he’s home. It’s a pain.

Sometimes, Midoriya manages to get into his bed. Sometimes, he just sleeps on the sofa. And sometimes, more often than not, he just curls on himself by the end of your bed like a little stray cat and sleeps for a few hours, not even changing into his pajamas which usually ends up with you changing your bedding after finding mud or blood - or whatever pro hero Deku decided to roll himself into during his mission - on your sheets. Thankfully, Izuku has a super high tech washing machine x dryer combo with a built-in washing detergent and fabric softener dispenser, so the only work you need to do is fold it and put it away. That doesn’t make changing the sheets less annoying though. You might need to ask Midoriya if there’s a device for that too.

Are you bothered by Midoriya sleeping by your feet like a fucking dog? Yes.

Would you rather have him sleep like a normal human being, snuggled into your back cozily? Yes.

Will you ever tell him that? Probably no.

Well, listen. Things might be back to normal but your feelings are not. It’s nearly impossible for you to sleep on the days he decides to sleep in your room. He also mumbles a lot before he actually falls asleep, his mutters usually consist of him saying sorry and talking about consent and about his terrible day and you do respond, especially when he starts beating himself up for doing “the wrong thing” but you are quite sure he thinks it’s his mind speaking back to him in your voice by the way he just ignores them.

For your surprise, after his fifth day of working non-stop Midoriya actually manages to come home on time; and by “on time” you mean 8PM instead of the usual 2AM. You look at the poor guy like you’ve seen a ghost.

“What? I mean what are you doing here? I mean, you live here but… Are you hurt? Did something happen? Izuku, are you an apparition?” Your voice sounds really raspy compared to your usual sound but you blame it on not speaking for 5 days. “Oh, maybe you are just that holographic thingy you have in your bracelet.” You move towards the ghost by the entrance, grabbing his beautifully sculpted bicep to prove your point. Oh. “You are here. Wow.” You snicker awkwardly, giving his bicep another squish because… well… you fucking can.

“Sweet Pea, are you okay? You act a little bit weird and I’m not talking about the part where you squished my arms, twice, but… you don’t really sound coherent?”

“Nah, I’m all fine!” You laugh like a maniac, waving your hands in front of you so aggressively you almost knock one of Izuku’s ‘welcome figurines’ off the shoe cabinet.

Yes, you guys have a bunch of figurines by the entrance to welcome the guest, mostly of the Deku squad so they feel loved and cherished. “I’m peachy.” You try to laugh but your face contorts into something extremely unappealing right before you sneeze and headbutt the door frame. “Ahh, allergies.”

Okay, you have a confession to make…

You’ve been feeling under the weather for a while now. You were okay when you came back home, but on the third day, your throat got a bit itchy and your mind a bit fuzzy. That didn’t stop you from working through the whole day, drawing, cooking, taking care of the laundry and the garden and trying your best to scrub out the blood of Izuku’s dirty clothes which probably didn’t help with your worsening condition.

It’s really not that bad though. Back when you had a job you went in to work when you were sick with no problem at all. It’s really not the end of the world…

… for you.

Apparently, it is the end of the world for the hero in front you.

“I’m calling the hospital, Sweet Pea! Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me you’re feeling unwell, you could have died! Oh my god.” Midoriya freaks out completely. He throws all his stuff on the floor with a loud bang and comes closer to you, his palms on your forehead in only a millisecond.

“Izu come on, let’s watch a movie, I want to snuggle up! I haven’t seen you for 5 days! Also, stop bleeding over my bedsheets I had to change them three times this week! Just put on a bandaid or sleep without your clothes! Wait… no… don’t sleep in my bed without your clothes on, you might set my sheets on fire with your hot ass.”

Shut. Up. For the love of god, just shut up.

“Oh my god, you are burning up.” Midoriya declares, ignoring your rambles. Well, thank fuck for that.

“Aww, thank you!”

“No… I mean yes, but no, you have fever! It’s really dangerous to have a fever, Y/N!” He reprimands with tears pooling in his beautiful eyes and you can’t help but laugh.

“Says the guy whose life is literally in danger 14 hours a day. Come on now, change into your pj’s!” You try to pull the hero in by grabbing his hand on your forehead, but he doesn’t move.

Midoriya is having a meltdown. Internally. And externally as he can’t stop muttering. He drops on his knees right in front of you, hugs your legs and just mutters and mutters and mutters…

“It’s just a cold, love.” You kneel in front of him to swipe your fingers underneath his teary eyes to dry the skin. “Do heroes not get cold?”

“I should have realized something’s wrong, but your snores were so cute…”

“My what?!” You yell, trying your best not to cough all over the hero afterwards.

“You snored a bit yesterday. It’s was so adorable. I should have known you are getting sick. You never snore.”

The fact that he knows that makes you wonder how many times he ended up in your room without your knowledge and you should probably be concerned, but this is Mr. Green flag. He might not know the word ‘personal space’ but he can’t even hurt a fly. Literally.

You wanted to buy a Venus flytrap and Deku started crying because the plant is carnivorous and it would kill the flies around the house. You really had to stop yourself from telling him about where meat comes from. If Izuku would take a few seconds to think about that he would go vegan in a heartbeat.

Wait, how did you end up on this topic?

Also, why are you flying right now? Oh, Midoriya is taking you to your bed.

“Izu, I don’t want to sleep! I want to watch something!”

“You are going to bed and I’m going to get a bucket of water and a sponge. Then I’m going to the conbini to buy you medicine then I’ll cry in the shower.”

“Izu, you are overreacting.” You sigh. Yes, you do feel a bit weird but it’s really not that bad. This drama is uncalled for.

“Okay, I’m calling the ambulance.” Deku puts you down on your bed and gets his phone out to actually make a call. You really want to fangirl over the fact that his background is one of the pictures the gang took while camping and you are also on the picture but even with a high fever, you know that’s not the priority right now.

“Okay, okay, Izu, stop! Just.. whatever. Do whatever you want.” You give in, not even moving to get under your sheets. You can’t believe he came home sooner to be with you and you ended up like this.

“What about watching Netflix on your computer when your fever breaks?” Izuku asks, his hands caressing your forehead.

“Snuggles?”

“Snuggles.” Izuku smiles, tugging a stray hair behind your ears.

“Okay.”

~•🥦•~

Izuku really goes above and beyond to take care of you. He sponges your skin with tepid water to help the fever to go down, tugs you in like a baby so you can rest comfortably while he runs outside to find something for you to take. He comes back with a bag full of random stuff; there is a nose and throat spray, cold medicine - the super high end one you could never afford - throat sweets, vitamin C, pre-cut fruits and easy to eat stuff, Orange juice and a Deku plushie.

“I missed you.” You murmur as Izuku puts the stuff on a big tray and puts it on the bed.

“Have you eaten today?” Midoriya grumbles and you really hate the way he ignores you completely.

“Don’t be like this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m freaking out. Let me take care of you first, okay? Then I’ll be back to normal.”

“Gimme’ the Deku doll.” You command. Deku’s eyebrows rise at that.

“Excuse me? That’s for when I’m gone to patrol.” Deku reprimands, his eyes full of that weird kind of darkness again.

“Are you jealous of yourself, Izu-Izu?” You say mockingly.

“You know what, princess? You are not getting it. Nope. You’ve messed up.” Midoriya pouts while pointing his nose towards the ceiling offendedly.

“Give him to me, I’m a sick woman!” You move yourself up from the bed, aggressively trying to take the doll from Izuku. You manage to grab the poor fluffy thing so you yank it towards you but the hero comes with it; he ends up on top of you, giggling and laughing while you struggle to breathe. Midoriya pulls himself up to let you take a deep breath and you can’t help but look at his pretty and tired face up close; his eyes are shining in that weird way they usually do when you are around, gaze full of fondness and something else you can’t put your hands on; you look at his freckles and start counting them but there’s so many thanks to the sunny weather… at last, you look at his lips which you kissed by accident the other day.

Talking about that little accident…

“What if you get sick?”

“Why would I?” Midoriya smiles.

“I… we… kissed… on the peak. By accident.” You mumble nervously.

“Could you not say that right after you stared at my face for a whole minute, Sweets?”

“But staring at your face for a whole minute made me remember it.” You mumble like it’s common sense.

“You don’t have a filter when you have a fever, do you?” Midoriya giggles, but his shyness wins; he moves to the end of the bed, his face hidden in his hands awkwardly while his shoulders move with the laughter. After a few seconds, his tone changes into a serious one. “We barely get sick.” Midoriya admits. “We are always on edge, ready to fight. We are stubborn bastards who don’t let themself rest for long enough to be able to get sick.” Deku smiles into the nothingness with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“We should go on a holiday, Izu. To America, where All Might studied.” You sigh. “We could go to see his school, that famous street where he first debuted. Geeky stuff like that.”

“Sounds like a dream, Sweets.” Deku smiles for real this time and you really want to daydream a bit more but somehow you’re incapable of words; the sleep takes you without a warning and the world goes black.

You wake up after a few hours; it’s still dark outside, but it’s closer to the morning than to the night; or at least that’s what your body clock tells you. Next to you, there is a green mop of hair sprawled out on the second pillow you never use; he’s sleeping next to you but in a safe distance, unlike the other day when you woke up in his arms. You really miss the closeness, you miss everything about those three beautiful days; it’s harder and harder not to point out the elephant in the room and just end this sweet nothing and burn it to pieces for that 1% chance of your feelings being reciprocated. Apparently, Izuku is a vigilant sleeper; when a tiny sigh leaves your mouth he opens his eyes; without a single word he puts his palm on your forehead and starts his usual freak out session.

Honestly, this joke is getting old.

“Izu, stop freaking out, I’m actually feeling okay. My fever broke hours ago.” You stare at your shaking roomie with disappointment. “I’m literally tucked into 3 different comforters, of course I’m burning up. I’m quite sure I fell asleep in one, so why do I look like a burrito now?” You try your best to get out of the hellishly hot covers but Izuku looks at you with those freaking puppy eyes; he literally looks like a puppy who just peed on the carpet and feels bad about it. He’s the definition of a baby golden retriever.

“Let me get the sponge at least!” He murmurs almost silently with a little pout on his face. Adorable.

“Izu…”

“What about a lukewarm bath?” Midoriya pushes but you roll your eyes. “I’ll help you.”

This guy is ridiculous.

“You wish.” You snap back with a red face and if you wouldn’t be so ashamed you would have heard the almost silent “I do” murmured into his pillow.

“What did you say?”

“I said I need to go to work.” Midoriya grumbles, his sleepy voice more deep than usual. Oh no…

“Izu, are you grumpy right now?” You giggle and Midoriya really doesn’t appreciate that; he looks at you with an offended gaze. “Did you wanna have a lovely bubble bath with me and wash my back like you wanted in the camp?” You full on laugh now which ends up with you coughing a bit, which as per usual makes the greenette freak out for a good moment but after he checks your vitals and decides you are not about to die from a single cough, his angry pout is back.

“Shut up and take your Deku.” Midoriya tries to throw the stuffed version of himself to you and it lands on your face as your reflexes aren’t really good in your condition; you might feel better but there is definitely a long way until you can go back to your usual self. “Don’t make fun of me, I’ve grown up in a really loving and really touchy family. Once I tried to wash Kirishima’s back in the river and almost got Howitzer Impacted into the moon.” Midoriya admits and you burst out laughing.

“You did not…”

“I fucking did and he fucking let me. It almost cost my life.”

“Wow, you swear so much on this lovely morning.” You grin menacingly. “Did you not sleep well in MY BED?” You try your best to tease him flirtatiously; Midoriya was right, you have no filter when you’re sick. Oh well.

“You snored so much I couldn’t sleep well!” Izuku sticks his tongue out and you can’t believe his audacity.

“You cheeky little bitch, get out!” You whine and your green companion snickers as he leaves your room to get ready for his day. He comes back after a while in a full setup with a steaming cup of noodles in his hands.

“Eat this and take your medicine. Only leave the room if you really need to. Send me a message every hour if you don’t want me to jump in through the window which I will leave open just in case.” Midoriya mumbles, and you can’t help but giggle.

“We have a door you can use, I hope you know that.” You try to deadpan but your mouth doesn’t want to cooperate.

“Let me be extra, okay?!” The move Izuku made with his hands really makes you question his sexuality.

“I didn’t know you can be so sassy, Izu-Izu, I kinda like that.”

“Say that when there’s no snot dripping from your nose and I might get a little bit turned on.” Izuku fucking WINKS at you and leaves like the sassy bitch he is.

So let’s take a deep breath and think about the fact that Deku openly flirted with you, even though you look like you were just hit by a truck.

… and now freak the fuck out.

Yes, that will definitely help you to get better.

~•🥦•~

Well, Deku wasn’t joking when he said you need to message him every hour. If you were even a minute late, you woke up to a green blob staring at you from your window like a creep. It was kind of funny until you realized how dangerous this whole situation is; Deku is clearly not concentrating on his job properly which is not just a risk for his own health but to the people of the city as well. You need to do something about this.

“Hey, Katsuki.” You ramble into the phone with a husky voice. “I have a problem.”

“The fuck, freeloader! Are you hurt?! I’m coming over!” Katsuki is about to end the call but you stop him.

“I’m sick, don’t come here. I need your help with Izu.” You sigh. “He’s not concentrating on his work because of me. He’s around the house every hour, he’s absolutely lost it.”

“Fuck. He did that to me too when I was sick. Only happened once but fuck I make sure to eat my fucking vegetables since, he was an absolute emotional mess, crying and yapping by my fucking bed like I’m dying.” Katsuki tenses. “I’ll sort this out, you rest or whatever.” The line goes dead and the silence is back. You send a quick message to Midoriya that you are about to sleep and decide to close your eyes a bit; the sooner you get out of this mess the sooner you get your old roommate back.

~•🥦•~

The next time you open your eyes, Izuku’s sitting at the leg of the bed, hunched over; he looks banged up and really tired but he still smiles at you as you sit up.

“Hey, Sweet Pea.” His voice is rough. Something is not right. Something is…

Dripping. On the bed. From his side.

That’s fucking blood.

Okay, this is it. You are done.

“Midoriya Izuku, you are bleeding! What the fuck are you doing here and why are you not in a hospital?!” You yell but straining your voice probably wasn’t the best idea as you end up having a coughing fit. Midoriya tries to move and help you through it but even the smallest movement makes his breath hitch.

This is not funny anymore. “Why are you doing this?! How am I supposed to get better if all I can think of is you dying on the battlefield because of me?! Huh?! I’m really fucking done, Izuku! I don’t want you here! I want to sleep! I’m calling the hospital!” You cry to him, your eyes full of worry. It breaks your heart to talk to him like that, but he didn’t listen to you when you were nice and if you need to break your own heart to save his life, then so be it.

“I’m sorry, I only looked at my phone for one second…” he tries to explain, but fuck if that doesn’t make you even more angry.

“You looked at your phone in the middle of a fight?! I’m having a cold Midoriya, not a terminal illness that will take me away randomly!”

“Don’t call me that…” Midoriya’s eyes are full of tears and that only makes you cry harder; it’s extremely hard to breathe, your already stuffed nose not letting any air into your lungs. Your door gets smashed in suddenly and you both jump; Midoriya makes a tiny whine from the pain.

“Okay, this shit show ends now.” Bakugou barges in and puts Midoriya on his shoulders like he’s nothing but a sack of potatoes. “Deku, you are going to the hospital.” He grumbles. “Freeloader, you hide that fucking bedsheet before Auntie gets a heart attack when she comes in from the living room.”

“Mum is here?” Midoriya mumbles with a pale face. The weakness of his voice makes you cry again.

“Yes fucker, she’ll take care of your girlfriend while you get your ass treated. You are not going back to work today. We’re going to use your window so she won’t freak out. Now shut the fuck up and chill for the fucks sake, what kind of fucking drama is this anyway? Honestly, you need to get a grip, you fucker! She’s just fucking sick. Stop being an idiot!” Bakugou doesn’t stop talking as he jumps out of the window; you can hear him yelling at the greenette until their silhouettes disappear in the sea of skyscrapers. When you hear the footsteps coming from the living room, you quickly hide the top sheets under the bed.

“I heard a lot of yelling, are you okay?” Mama Midoriya comes in but she stops at the door when she sees your teary face. “Honey, what happened?” Inko runs over to hug you. You try your best to not cry even harder as she embraces you the same way a mother embraces her child.

“He doesn’t have any sense of self preservation, I can’t do this. It’s my fault, everything is my fault…” you bawl like a baby, your words so mumbled she probably can’t understand the half of it.

“Is there something bloody hidden under your bed, honey?” She mumbles into your ear and you freeze; Katsuki went above and beyond to make sure Inko doesn’t see his injured son yet you managed to mess up everything in the first 30 seconds. Well done.

“… N-no?” You stutter but Inko only laughs at that.

“Y/N, I know those two like the back of my hands. I heard yelling then Kacchan disappeared through the window, together with my son. I might be a working class woman but I’m not stupid.” The lady smiles. “I used to cry so much when my boy got injured but it’s the part of the job. I can’t believe they still try to hide this away from me. I was the one who treated Izuku’s wounds in the first few years. I was the one who washed his blood soaked clothes. Honestly, these two boys… they are a handful.”

“It was my fault, I’m sorry…” You try to apologize but Inko puts her hands on your mouth.

“Oh, shush now, Sweet Pea. It’s his own fault for not taking care of himself. He should have called me right away. This isn’t a first time I take care of his friends while he’s on duty. But I guess you are special. He wanted to take care of you himself.” Inko looks at you with a knowing look. “Don’t be too hard on him when he comes back, okay? He’s probably really heartbroken right now. He takes everything so seriously…”

“I yelled at him.” You sniffle. “I yelled at him and told him I don’t want him here. I didn’t mean it…”

“I know, honey. But you thought this is the best you can do to keep him safe. Thank you.” Inko keeps rubbing your back soothingly and the movement makes your sick brain feel super woozy - in a nice way. You could really sleep in Mama Midoriya’s arms. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a minute, honey? Let’s kick this cold in the butt so you two can make up and be happy again, yeah?” The soothing little circles lulls you to sleep really quickly; the next time you wake up it’s the next morning; you are alone in your room, there is water and breakfast ready for you by your bedside and there’s also a little pot of pink flowers sitting next to your pancakes. By the look of it, they were planted really quickly and you must add, really messily but you know these flowers; they are pink kisses, the flowers you made Midoriya buy for the garden when you first moved in. You really want to cry right now.

“Are you feeling better, honey?” Inko comes in with a sleepy face; you really hope she didn’t sleep on the sofa. Knowing Izuku, he probably let his mother sleep in his bed while he crashed on the sofa even though he’s hurt. You want to strangle that man and kiss him senseless, all at the same time.

“Much better, thank you. That disgusting thing with ginger really helped.” You giggle. “How is he?” You ask in a serious tone, worried. The poor guy went out into your garden and dug a flower out of the fucking dirt. He must feel so guilty for everything he’s done and probably has the wrong idea about your feelings as well. You really need to talk to him. As soon as possible.

“He’s okay… right, Izuku?” Inko smiles and suddenly, there is another green head in your view; Izuku looks so tired, his eyes red-rimmed and full of regret.

“Izu…” Things happen really quickly; Izuku is at the door one moment and in your bed in the next; he hugs you like he haven’t seen you for a year, grabbing your shirt anxiously while he buries his head into your neck. “I smell really bad…” you mumble self-consciously, but he only buries his head in deeper.

“I’m so sorry.” He sniffs and you really can’t take this anymore; you embrace the man so tightly he ends up making a little noise of discomfort.

“Ahh, sorry, did I hurt you? You got injured yesterday, I’m so sorry!” You ramble but Izuku only smiles. Inko slowly backs out of the room and closes the door behind her to give you some privacy. Bless that woman.

“I got healed by recovery girl, I’m fine. I’m sorry I made you worry and for being a ‘creepy ass fuck’ as Kacchan has said.” Poor Izuku looks so dejected you can’t help but caress his cheeks to cheer him up.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. You were hurt and I only made it worse for you. Look at your eyes, love, they are so red and puffy…” You barely realize what you’ve just said. It just slipped out without your knowledge. Oh, you really fucked up this time, you really…

“I love the sound of that nickname.” He mutters with a red face. “You are forgiven. You’ll always be forgiven, Sweet Pea.”

“And so will you, Izu.” You mutter back with teary eyes. “Whatever you do, I’ll be here, waiting for you to come home to me again.”

This is the last straw for your poor heart. You are in love with him. You can’t fucking lie to yourself anymore. He’s the most perfect creature you’ve ever met in your life with all his weird habits and stupid shenanigans. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You really need to take a deep breath and close your eyes for a second to not act on your instincts and kiss the man in front of you.

“Promise?” Deku smiles, his pinky lacing together with yours.

“Promise.”

~•🥦•~

After a few days, you feel good as new; at last, you can safely snuggle with your favorite roommate as you two enjoy a movie on this lovely afternoon.

“Hey, Sweet Pea…” Midoriya mumbles shyly. It weirdly sounds like a beginning of a question so you look up at the green haired hero. “So, my mom told me off for not listening to the doctors and getting glasses for home to read and to watch the TV, so… what do you think?”

“About you in glasses? Or about you being an insufferable little bitch about using them?” You grin when Izuku makes that funny squeaky noise he usually does when he’s being bullied.

“Excuse me, first of all, I’m not an insufferable little bitch about it, I just forgot to get my glasses done. Second of all, stop chatting with Kacchan when I’m not around.” Izuku pouts, so you give him a little kiss on his cheek to stop his incoming tantrum.

“You are literally so obsessed with him you have all his merch, is it really a bad thing if I sound like that?” You continue your teasing, because you are an asshole.

“Well, first of all…” Midoriya is about to start ranting but he gets cut off by your loud laugh.

“First of all, stop saying first of all over and over!” You talk back, still snuggled close to him, your hands playing with his fingers in his lap.

Yes, friendzone be damned, you two can’t stop touching each other since the fight, and no, not in that way, obviously, but you can’t lie, it is constant. Good morning kiss on the cheeks, good night kiss on the forehead, a ‘well done’ caress after finishing a commission, ‘thank fuck you are alive’ kiss on Izuku’s shoulder because you can’t reach his face properly without jumping up on him like a monkey, fingers entwining while watching a movie on the sofa, secret sniffs of the other’s skin after a shower… Long story short, it’s bad but neither of you really care at this point.

“I don’t want you to sound like Kacchan, because one is perfectly enough of him. Also, I’m getting those glasses, so if you see a new man sitting on the sofa, please refrain from attacking him with a mop again.” Izuku giggles, reminding you of your second encounter in the living room.

“Nah, I would know it’s you even if you take away all my senses.” You smile with a fond look on your face. You are so fucking obvious it’s actually hilarious.

“That’s highly unlikely, but I’m still fluttered.” Midoriya smiles back with a dorky look.

“Damn, you don’t even have your glasses yet but you already sound like a fucking nerd.”

“That’s it princess, you are going to the naughty jail!” Midoriya giggles and makes a move towards you. You look at him with questioning eyes.

“The wha… oh my god, Izu, stop!” You whine as the hero lands on top of you, viciously tickling you on your super ticklish sides, movie long forgotten. If you two end up staying in this position after tiring yourselves out by playfully fighting on the comfy sofa then falling asleep in each other’s arms, that’s no one’s fucking business.

Fuck, you really do sound like Katsuki these days.

~•🥦•~

EXTRA - A few days before

Deku’s mental health support group

Green oblivious idiot: Even her snores are cute…

Kacchan: Jesus ducking Christ Deku.

Kacchan: ducking

Shitty Hair: 🦆

Kacchan: I ducking hate you all.

Kacchan: Duck’s sake

Green, oblivious idiot: 🦆

Kacchan has left the group.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~��~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- This was actually supposed to be a 2 parter but I have so many chapters sitting in my notes I decided to post both of the chapters together haha I hope you enjoyed the little treat!

- The next chapter is my personal favorite one and guys… you are not ready.

- HEY VIETNAMESE FRIENDS, this story is being translated to Vietnamese by the lovely @tlam105! Thank you very much for your hard work! 🩷🩷🩷🩷 CLICK HERE IF YOU WANNA READ IT!!

- Eyy, Izuku has issues, man 😂 Someone needs to give that poor guy a chill pill. I’m really not sure how the heck did he manage to look at his phone during battle though, I’m quite sure he was hiding somewhere and that’s when he took his phone out, not in the middle of an actual battle but that doesn’t make it any better.

- I have a confession to make; I finished this story a few days ago and I’m really emotional right now 😂 the story will end with week 10, BUT! You know me and how much I love this story so there will be a second season! We will see more of Izuku’s weird habits in that one! It will just as fun as the first season was! 🥦 I already finished the new header for it 😂 I really hope you like the ending! (which ain’t an ending but you know what I mean.)

- My boyfriend is cutting onions and I can’t see from the tears so if there’s a mistake in the potato ramble bit I’m sorry I’m literally blind. TMI, I know.

See you next week! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! I love to hear your thoughts! 🥦🩷

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @momothemasocist @aymasakusa @kastuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore

[sarahblueskyyyy]

Frames

Romance, MaxBradley, Fluff, Slow Burn, Tension, Post Canon, Future Setting, Happy Ending, Reunion, etc.

Bradley Uppercrust the Third, has always been and always will be someone who’s minding his own business. At least—that’s what he has learned throughout the years, ever since his university life.

“Oh, God—are you seriously saying that? I can’t believe you!”

He lets out a yawn. His head is filled with what he should eat when he finally gets home. A takeaway from that one Chinese diner might be nice—or he could just bring home something. The owner of this restaurant is kind enough to share any remaining food with his employees anyway.

“Bradley, you seein’ this?” One of the waiters nudges him with his elbow. He cocks his head towards the center of the freshly-made exhibition. “That guy is gonna get dumped. It’s a painful sight.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Really, as if there isn’t anything worth watching.”

“At this moment? No, not exactly.”

A kitchen staff member rings a bell—an implicit order for a server to fetch the cooked meal to its customer. Bradley picks a tray, puts that plate onto it, and his blue eyes scrutinize the number of the table that is attached to a bill besides the plate.

How lucky. It’s the table with that couple that has been on each other's throats for the last 10 minutes. Well, to be more specific, the lady dog is the one who’s berating him, and the poor guy is just accepting it in silence.

Eh. Maybe he deserves it.

Bradley shrugs and brings that tray towards the table, unwavering. It’s not really his problem, but perhaps he should meddle, for other customers have been whispering and trading looks. Certainly concerning to the restaurant’s reputation. And, who knows, he might get some appreciation from his boss if he could break lovers’ quarrels.

However, when he arrives at the table—even before he could part his lips to say a word—the lady dog stands abruptly. Without him realizing it, her fingers wrap around that glass of whiskey, and her arm swings in a forward motion, transferring all the liquid inside to drench the other person on that table.

The other man is still looking down. His hair, pitch black like a pair of a raven’s wings, is damp and shiny under the light. Droplets form rivulets on that head before they fall free from the pointy end of his hair.

Bradley sure hopes it was the climax of her wrath, and perhaps God answers his hidden thought because, in the next second, that lady dog storms away until she is no longer inside the building.

Alright. At least one problem has ceased for now. Bradley sighs. His job still requires him not to be a dick, so he calls out delicately to the poor guy, offering his condolences and help.

“I’m sorry for what has happened. May I offer you our hospitality, and get you some dry towels—”

When the other guy lifts his face, this time Bradley manages to have a good look. He can’t prevent the smirk that creeps into his cheeks, carving an absolutely snarky expression.

“Ha!” His scoff surprises almost everyone in that room. “Long time no see, freshman.”

Maximilian Goof groans, and the frown on his forehead is apparent. “I miss you too.”

It looks like both of them developed a sense of humor over the years.

.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

As sharp as it might sound, the sentence lost its bite completely. Max receives the towel Bradley gives him and places the fluffy fabric on top of his head. His ears sag on the sides of his face like usual, but this time they look even more slumpy because of the whiskey.

“My boss pities you.” It sounds like a plain mockery, but no—Max notices it’s just how Bradley talks. How has he always been. “Besides, my shift is gonna be over soon. So, dry yourself up, be a doll, and go home.”

Max doesn’t answer that. Instead, he rubs his own hair with a tad too much force, finding the rocky pavement more interesting to pay attention to.

Bradley breaks the uncomfortable stillness with a question, “So—what went wrong? I didn’t take you to be the cheating type. Or a jerk—oh, wait, you maybe are one.”

“Perhaps take a look into a mirror for once.” Max is pressing the back of his head. Then, after that, the tone of his voice gets gentler a notch. “Nothing, really. I just admitted I’ve lost my feeling for her, and I thought it’s best to break it up now than prolong it into something worse.”

“Lost?” Bradley isn’t sure why he needs a confirmation, but he asks it anyway, “Or never had it in the first place?”

That makes Max snap his neck towards Bradley, his expression almost unidentifiable. But for some reasons—for Bradley, it is quite clear what’s going on inside his mind. Max wears his heart on his sleeve; it is easy to see and even easier to break. Max looks hurt and betrayed—like a child who’s caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t do, and now he can’t lie through his teeth about it.

Aha. Bradley shakes his head and smiles. "You've got to train your poker face more.”

“That’s not funny, Brad.”

“It's Bradley, and I wasn’t trying to be a jester.” Bradley thinks for a few seconds before he proceeds with his words, “Big chances are that lady knew you were lying to her. She probably figured out you never really loved her, and yet, like a fool, you keep being kind to her until you realize it’s futile. You let her make you the bad guy.”

Max’s lips grow apart. His eyes are fixated on the figure in front of him, incredulously.

“What? Bull’s eye?”

“How do you know that?”

“What don't I know?” Bradley mentally takes note of how—maybe some things aren’t meant to change. Case in point: Max Goof’s naivete. A wave of innocence blankets his personality and protects him from the world’s vile truths, and they against his optimism. A combo match made in heaven. “Anyway, are you done? I need to get ready to go home; it’s getting chilly.”

Bradley is greeted by faint cricket sounds and the night wind.

Max takes a deep breath and empties his lungs before he answers, “I share an apartment with her. I can’t exactly waltz into my home right now.”

“Are you serious?”—that’s what Bradley was going to ask. That, and probably followed by, “How is that my problem? I ain’t your babysitters; figure things out yourselves, hon.”

Unfortunately for him, as he matures in age, empathy seeps inside him now more than ever, and the intensity magnifies compared to when he was still an adolescent. And also, all the hardship he encounters perhaps contributes to the sentiment.

Bradley knows he’s going to regret this, but the last thing he wants is to find the possibility of tomorrow’s newspaper filled with information about a missing dog or a dead one. Exaggerating it might sound.

“Do you want to stay at my place?”

.

.

.

Bradley isn’t kind, compassionate, or polite enough to sputter out the courtesy, “Make yourself at home.” He doesn’t need to, anyway, because the younger Goof marches inside the apartment with such confidence.

“Sit.” Bradley’s forefinger is aimed at his couch. “I’ll give you my unused shirt and towel.” Before he himself goes into the bedroom, the corners of his eyes catch Max's unusual excitement towards the living space. Bradley alarms him with an order—which he’s quite sure will be disregarded completely. “Don’t look, don’t touch, nothin’.”

Max gives him a half-hearted thumbs up. He can hear Bradley’s grumble as he walks inside his room. Then, the black-haired canine, as expected, starts looking around the place. Order and rules are meant to be broken—or however the saying goes.

If there is one thing he realizes once he steps foot inside the house, it’s how inhumanely tidy this place is. Small paintings are framed and nailed to the wall with such precision that they rival the strictness of Britain’s royal regulations. Mugs, accessory bowls, and ornaments are placed in their own designated area. There is no dirty laundry or random briefs on the corners of the room, which, by Max’s standard, is preposterous. Who doesn’t throw their shirt somewhere on the floor once in a while? There are many times when Max is exhausted and just overwhelmed by his work; his limbs feel like they’re falling out, and he can’t be bothered by doing laundry.

However, his mind’s focus shifts almost instantly when he sees three framed photos on the TV table.

The first frame is a photo of Bradley and his—Gamma Mu Mu. He had his usual arrogant lines on his expression, while the rest of the members were wearing this silly laugh. It looks surprisingly endearing.

The second one is his graduation photo. A formal one where he wore a mortarboard and the college’s distinct cloak. In that picture, he stands tall with his chin up, yet he’s alone. The display alone raises Max’s memory of his own graduation photos—and there are a ton of them. Of course, his father, Goofy, insisted on such an idea to make sure they have something to remind them of home—no matter how far the world may take them. And Max, albeit being surged by the complexity of embarrassment and elation, is forever thankful to his dad. He remembers the series of photos of him, Bobby, and P.J., then some others of him, his dad, and Sylvia.

So why did Bradley take the photo alone?

Before the cogs of his head could turn and arrive at a conclusion, his eyes had already moved to the third frame, and it's empty. There is nothing in it.

Why bother setting up the frame, then?

“Having fun diving your nose into my business, Max?”

“How come the third frame is empty?”

Crass, brash—Bradley didn’t know Max could showcase two insufferable traits in one go. But he’s been proven wrong, hasn’t he?

Bradley’s refusal to answer is prominent. He shoves a set of comfortable clothes into Max’s arms, which readily cradle them. That, and a clean towel. The silky smell of fabric softener is gently spewed out of those cloths, and the electric synapse in Max’s brain works fast to associate the fragrance with Bradley.

“Take a shower, stinky.”

Max offers a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

When he finally steps inside the bathroom, Bradley sighs deeply. Wondering what he’s gotten himself to.

.

Bradley has taken his own bath when he enters his room with a towel hanging on top of his head. His sky-colored eyes look at Max, who’s now leisurely lying down on a mattress he provided before. There is a scrunch between Max’s eyebrows and his fingers typing fast on the thin screen of his phone—Bradley can guess several reasons for such behavior.

The Uppercrust sits down on the edge of his bed. He blinks—once, twice. Perhaps he’s really drained because his eyelids struggle to keep them lifted. And the effect of the warm bath that relaxed his whole body is surely pumping the melatonin even more.

He still observes the young Goof. The way his own shirt fits on his toned body, sharp blade shoulders, and a little too tight on his biceps and the curves of his muscles are obvious behind the cloth. Huh. Brandley wonders if Max has always leaning on the sturdy side, even back in the day.

“Are you sleepy yet?”

Bradley snatches the towel off, then spreads it on the hanger to ensure its dryness the following day.

“Unlike you, I worked all day. So, in a matter of fact—yes, I am. Goodnight.”

“I worked all day, too.”

“And getting dumped by the end of it? God really hates you, Goof.”

Max scoffs and smiles. He puts down his phone, eliminating a source of dim light in that room. “So, tell me. What a rich guy like you doin’ in a restaurant as a server nonetheless?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Bradley flicks off the switch of his table lamp, and instantly, the room is engulfed by the dark. “I got disowned right after the X Games. Cash is an old friend.”

Max can feel his furrow go even deeper. A little more of that, and it’ll dig into his skull. “I thought that was just a—rumor.”

“Why would it be?” Bradley yawns, and as a result, a drop of tears prickles out of his eyes. He rubs it away. The timbre of his voice insinuates that this is no more than a weather talk—it’s concerning for Max personally. “Uppercrust never jokes when it comes to the things that matter the most.” 

“…. I can see that now.” A silence. “Is that why I practically never saw you anymore after the games?”

“More or less.” Bradley speculates how many more questions he needs to answer before the curiosity weans off. But then he realizes it feels good to talk about himself occasionally. And to be fair, it’s been a long time since he did that. “Gotta focus on graduating, then job-seeking. It wasn’t so bad. It took me fast enough to comprehend that the money you gain yourself is far more satisfying than being given.”

“But that’s …,” Max’s words dissipate in the air before it comes back to its track, “… crazy. I mean, why would parents abandon their own child? I know my father wouldn’t.”

“Good for you.” Bradley can’t see Max since he’s lying on his back, but he’s pretty sure that empty head is tilting in confusion. He continues, “People are just different. You of all people should’ve known that.”

“You did almost kill me. And Tank. And the others.”

“…. That I did. If my memory serves me correctly, I have properly apologized."

"You have." Max huffs quietly. His vision scans the strange ceiling, almost alienating since he’s gotten used to his own. “You’ve mellowed.”

Bradley almost lost his drowsiness. “Are you calling me old?”

“Well, I mean—I am 29 this year. That makes you … what, 40?”

“Your perception of others is fucked. I’m 33.”

“Oh. Well. It wasn’t an insult.”

“Sure, it wasn’t.”

Max chuckles. His laugh is light and airy, oozing across the room in a tender way. And at the end of that giggle, there is a unique hiccup—something only the Goofs have. It throws Bradley off for a moment. Is he deranged, or somehow, he does miss that laugh? Something he hasn’t heard since a decade ago.

“It’s good, really,” Max tries to convince him. “I mean, how to put this … you are still—you. But you’ve matured and are not as annoying as before—”

“Maxmillian Goof.”

“—but you know. All grown up. Hey, look! Shitty parents don’t always produce shitty kids. So, there is that.”

“I was a shitty kid.”

“Not anymore. If you were, I wouldn’t have been here.”

Bradley pursed his lips in defeat. He wants to retaliate, but then it’ll look ridiculous. So instead, there is an attempt to change the topic, “How about you? No luck with girls, ever, huh?”

“Oh, c’mon ….” Max scratches his nape. “I just haven’t found the right one, I guess.”

Bradley hums. “The right one. That’s a broad description.”

Max ponders for a few seconds before he verbalizes his thoughts, “Well, someone that you’d get married to. The one that stays in your life for the better or worse. Cliché, I know, but—that’s the goal.”

Bradley forgets that not everyone is as laid-back as he is. People tangle themselves in relationships and a series of interlaced emotions so they can have a friend that’ll walk with them until the end of the line. Truth be told, if he wanted to satisfy his primal, compulsory needs, he'd just rub it out or hire someone.

“What if you never find one?”

Max blinks in his direction. “It can’t be helped, then. My dad probably will be more devastated than I am, but—you can’t force a feeling.”

“Look at you. All grown up, huh?”

Max feels a heat crawl into his face, and he groans. “We should sleep.”

“Thank God, I’ve been saying.”

Reticence comes back with the absence of conversation. Just a mild whirling sound from the air conditioner and an even muted ticking from the clock.

“…. Bradley?”

An exasperated sigh. “What, Max?”

“The third photo frames. Why didn’t you put anything in it?”

Bradley closes his eyes.

“The third is not important. Go to sleep.”

Max goes quiet. It doesn’t take him long to drown in his own unconsciousness, pulled by an immense strength that renders him unable to stay awake.

When tomorrow comes, he knows it’s time to say goodbye.

.

The next morning, Bradley wakes up at 6—just like he always does. Apparently, Max woke up even earlier, seeing that his used mattress had been neatly folded. Bradley notices a small note that was put on top of it, with handwriting that he recognizes as Max’s.

Thank you!

M. G. 

That’s what was written.

That’s it, huh? Bradley closes his eyes, reminding himself internally to stay alert, and only after then is he startled by his own thoughts.

That’s it—of course. What am I hoping for?

.

.

.

.

.

“Oh—hey, Maxie.”

Max’s arm freezes in the air, just by the time his fingers are holding a warm cup of latte. His head turns to the side, where he finds a lady dog smiling gently towards him. Max goes agape before his voice resurfaces, “Oh. Hi.”

It’s his ex. The lady dog’s chin perks up in another direction—an invitation to talk. Max’s stomach is filled with a ball of worry as his footstep follows her—and he suddenly remembers that the two of them never really had a chance to talk it out.

That morning, after the one-sided fight and an awful breakup, Max found his apartment already cleared of her stuff. There is no remnant of it except what’s left in memory. If Max didn’t know better, he’d have doubted her existence.

However—he was sure she was real because the feeling was there, no matter how minuscule it was. There were comforting moments between them, a shared fleeting happiness. So, it was real.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything.” The lady dog speaks in a serene demeanor. A contradiction of what she was displaying that night. But Max knows this is how she usually is. “I was just … too distracted, and my emotions got ahead of me, and I selfishly pulled myself away.”

“No—,” Max quickly interrupts her. He parts his lips, trying to say something, and his guilt is weaved along with his explanation, “I’m the one who should’ve been apologized. You’re right; I don’t deserve you, and I shouldn’t stay longer than I did. I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

The lady smiles. No faux geniality, and her heart swells. “You are kind, Maxie. You’ve always been. I took advantage of that. I knew you never loved me, yet I still try to convince you that you do—because I was craving the affection. It was foolish of me, because then I realized that the compassion you had, the kindness you served me with—were never mine in the first place.”

Max’s head slants to one side, and his loopy ears follow the gravitation and sway softly. It is expectedly adorable, and the lady is confident there are other people who’d think the same.

“I don’t know, Max,” she says once again with firm authority, but she doesn’t lose the tenderness. “You love someone, that’s certain. If you’re confused by it, I suggest you better start finding out, for you don’t want something similar like this to happen again.”

Those words root and glide into the slopes of his heart. The lady bids farewell and walks away, and still, Max doesn’t move from where his feet are nestled. Eventually, he drags his limbs outside the café. He isn’t sure where his legs are bringing him forward, but there is an indescribable relief when he stumbles upon someone he knows on the bench near the central town.

A smile instinctively sculpts itself on Max’s face.

“Bradley.”

Bradley grimaces at the sudden sound. Not for long, because he finds a familiarity in that intonation.

“Is this town getting shrunk or what?”

“What are the chances, am I right?” Max sits beside his former upper-class man, ignoring the look of disapproval that is shot towards him. A beat of silence. “I met my ex just now.”

“Congratulation!” Bradley bites back quickly. He takes a furtive glimpse at the Goof and notices how fidgety the man is. “There wasn’t any incident involving liquid, I assume, since the content inside that cup is still whole?”

Max shrugs. “No, there wasn’t.” He looks at Bradly, who mutters a low hum. “What are you doing here, anyway? No work? How about that restaurant?”

“Easy, Max.” He shakes his head. “I’m just taking a walk. Besides, that wasn’t my fixed job. It was part-time until I landed on a permanent one, and I have, so I quit.”

“Oh … good for you.”

“Yep.”

“So, what are you going to do? I mean—what’s your job now?”

“Just simple supervising in a garment factory. The idea is, I’ll get promoted to manager after 2 years.”

“That’s cool. I can’t imagine doing corporate work, though. Being a sports coach feels right for me. A lot of movements and all.”

“Well, each to their own, I guess.”

Max nods, almost in slow motion. His dark eyes stray to glance at something else, but it’s ineffective since his thoughts are reverberating, pleading to get unraveled verbally.

“I’m not good at this. Can I just say whatever's on my mind?”

Bradley exhales in a dramatic manner. “Finally, yes—stop beating around the bush.”

Max’s grin widens from ear to ear. He takes out his phone, and with a somehow crafty look, he tells Bradley, “Look here.”

Bradley automatically slants towards Max, just for him to be met with Max’s phone camera, and the younger guy wastes no time to hit the red button in the middle.

“Hey! What gives?”

“You said the third frame is not important, right?” Max is filled with glee that Bradley doesn’t understand. Max’s goofy teeth peek up from the lips, and there are lines near his eyes, an undeniable proof that the flow of time waits for no one, yet it feels like the same smile he wore when they first met. “Then I claim its spot, and it’s up to me to fill it with whatever.”

“Excuse me? What even are you yappin’ about?”

“Oh! Or maybe you want to settle this on the skateboards, like old times? I don’t mind—it’s our style after all.”

The look on Bradley’s face is one of disbelief. His jaw falls, almost comically. He suspects Max is toying with him. His thoughts dart around, bouncing inside the space in his skull, and he tries to make sense of the situation. However, he sees the grin on Max’s lips and how the evening sun outlines his unruly hair, and he caves in.

“What? You scared?”

“Okay, whatever, Max.” And he'll be a hypocrite if he says he doesn't feel the same thrill. “What do I get if I win?”

“Me vanish from your life forever.”

Bradley raises both of his eyebrows. How fuckin' arrogant and confident! “You’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

“I’d win. So don’t fret about it.”

Max stretches his arm out for Bradley to reach.

And when Bradley does reach for it, his inner voice tells him that it’s probably a bad idea.

But he has nothing to lose, doesn’t he?

.

.

.

EPILOG

“Have you ever expected this?”

P. J. squints at Bobby through the sides of his eyes. He doesn’t need to ask for an answer, because he too knows full well that it was a rhetorical question. He turns his head back to the view in front of him: Max and Bradley are exchanging words with Goofy and Sylvia.

“No,” P. J. says anyway. “Have you?”

Bobby examines the house with his sight. There are photo frames all over it, neatly planted in their own spaces. This is Max’s style and personality talking. However, the precision of every placed object is undoubtedly Bradley’s.

“I know Max swings both ways. I never thought it’d be Bradley at the end of the day.”

“Is that so wrong?”

Bobby grins. His teeth present themselves, and P. J is positive; that’s the biggest beam Bobby can muster.

“No,” the buzz-cut man answers. “Not at all.”

P. J. smiles. Yeah. Of course not.

[mybelovedwoo]

in which you drank more than you could handle

wooyoung x f!reader

fluff, angst, established relationship / wc: 2k

warnings: drinking irresponsibly, unconsciousness, mention of throwing up, passing out, injuries, blood, mention of food

note: this is where my last headcanon came from. if you haven't read it yet you can find it here:) if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can enter here <3

wooyoung mastelist - main masterlist

You are somewhere between dreamland and reality when you feel the strong sunshine burning your eyelids. Usually, you have very intense dreams, but today you woke up not remembering any of them, you feel like you just had the best sleep in a very long time. You turn over to the other side so you can finally open your eyes without getting blind.

When you open both eyes, you feel as if your head is about to split open. You wonder what is this terrible headache, maybe you are getting sick? You start thinking back to what you did yesterday, that made you feel this way, but you don't remember much after you went out for dinner with your friends.

You try to sit up, but to do that, you have to support yourself up because your head is pulling you back to bed. You slip into your warm slippers and head toward the kitchen. Your bag and shoes from last night are on the floor in the living room. And you finally reach your destination in the kitchen, you see the huge mess there, you swear to god you left everything clean when you left yesterday. When did you even have time or ability to cook?

You just need a coffee and you will be fine, you think. But before that, you make your way to the bathroom, because you don't know how much water you drank yesterday, but you really need to pee ever since you woke up. When you enter the bathroom, you are greeted by a very interesting sight. The sink is full of bloody tissues. You got really scared. Are you injured by any chance somewhere? You look over every part of your body, but nowhere do you see anything unusual, except for some purple bruises.

You are deep in your thoughts when you leave the room, and just then the front door opens and your boyfriend enters your apartment, in his hands there is a bag full of things.

"Oh, are you up already?" He is surprised. He walks over to the kitchen counter and puts everything down from his hands. Then he walks up to you. "How are you feeling?" He asks.

The frames of last night suddenly play through your mind.

You run to the door when you hear someone ringing your doorbell nonstop. You already know who it is, who is so impatient, that can't wait even a minute for you to get there in a normal space.

"Omg, Wooyoung I gave you a key for a reason. You can use it whenever you like, you know that right?" You open the door for him, with hands on your hips.

"But I can't possibly know what you're doing in there, what if I interrupt something?" You can see a mischievous look on his face. "You just like it if I open the door for you, aren't you?" You already know him well enough to know he has other intentions.

"I like it when you greet me with a kiss, what's wrong with that?" He said it with a pouty voice. He is seriously so cute, you think. "So where is my kiss then?" You made a quick peck on his lips and pulled him inside. "What is this big rush, that I can't even get a proper kiss from my girlfriend?"

"The others are already there Babe. I hate to be late you know that." You said as you were putting on your shoes and your jacket. When you're finally ready to go you pull Wooyoung out of your apartment by his hands and literally rushed to the restaurant.

As you said before everyone else was there already, they had a really big table for themself. Yunho was the first one who noticed that you have arrived. "Oh, the real party finally came!" He shouted, and everybody turned towards you.

"You couldn't wait for me to arrive, aren't you?" Wooyoung felt flustered by his mates' comments, suddenly he became all smiley. "Not you, you dumbass. Y/N! She is more fun than anybody here." Hongjoong confessed while Wooyoung seemed really disappointed, so you grabbed his hands and squeezed them to cheer him up.

"Come Y/n, you're already behind us, you have to have at least one drink with each one of us." Jongho speaks from behind, everybody seems tipsy already. 

"Can I at least order my food first?" You joked with them, sitting down at the end of the table with your boyfriend. 

After a couple of hours, you really did drink with all eight of your friends and even beyond that. Of all the people, it was Mingi who was almost at the same level as you. He grabbed the bottle and poured another round for the two of you, but your boyfriend took the glass away from you before you could drink it. "I think she had enough for today." And he drank that shot himself. It was known that Wooyoung handled alcohol very well, but he didn't drink that much tonight on purpose. When he drinks with you, he never dares to relax, not because he feels tense or something, but because he wants to be himself around you all the time and take care of you if something goes wrong.

"Come on man! Don't be such a party killer. Y/n is a big girl, she can decide for herself, right?" Mingi didn't have any bad intentions, but little did he know, you definitely had enough to drink, because you heard everything, but weren't able to answer. It's like someone is blocking your brain and the ability to speak up.

Wooyoung put your arms around his neck, so it would be easier for you to get up, he didn't dare to let go of you. "Hey Sweetheart, can you get up on your own?" He whispered to your ears, he didn't want anybody else to hear, because he knew you would get embarrassed. You looked up at him and said "Of course I can, but I like it better in your arms Handsome" with the biggest smile on your face.

Your boyfriend is so glad that you are drunk now and can't make fun of how flustered he got by your sudden flirting, but he couldn't deal with that right now. He had one thing on his mind and that is he needs to get you home safe.

While he was calling for a taxi, you were clinging to his waist the whole time, to stay balanced. The ride home was a whole other journey, that Wooyoung thought was the most stressful experience of his life so far. The battle of you throwing up or not, with a fully open window and the slowest drive ever, he couldn't believe when he got out of the car in front of your apartment complex that he survived.

When you got into your apartment, you said that you felt completely fine now, and he could go home if he wanted to. He knew from this sentence that you weren't fine at all because you would never refuse a sleepover with him, he knew how much you loved when he cuddled you to sleep.

"Baby, what about you taking a really good shower then I put you to bed, hm?" He was so desperate to complete this mission.

"But I'm really hungry...I think I'll cook something." You opened the fridge and started to get some stuff out that didn't really make sense, like a couple of eggs, ketchup, and orange juice. It is a known fact that you cannot cook, but somehow you felt the sudden urge to learn it in the middle of the night. Wooyoung walked up to you and took the knife away from your hand, he knew it is already dangerous in your hand in general, not speaking when you were drunk, the sight terrified him. "What if I cook you something until you have your shower?" He couldn't believe he had to cook you dinner, after having dinner at the restaurant.

"So you're not gonna join me, huh?" He was surprised by your boldness, he really liked it when you acted like this on any other occasion. But he knew he can't do that, not when you are in a state like this. "Not today." But he gave a small peck on your lips.

-

Wooyoung was almost done with his Haejangguk when he heard a loud thud coming from the bathroom. At first, he didn't know what it could be, but knowing you, how clumsy you are, he knew something was wrong. He immediately ran up to the door and knocked on it. "Hey, is everything okay there?" He did want to just break the door in you. But when he didn't get an answer he had no other choice, and when he opened the door his worst nightmare was in front of his eyes, something that only happens in nightmares. You passed out right in the middle of the shower.

He never was this afraid in his life, he opened the shower door, the water was still running. The first thing he checked was if you had any injuries, you might have hit your head badly, so he was ready to rush into the hospital. But gladly he didn't find any injuries on your body. He pulled you out of that cold shower cabin and close the water. He accidentally cut himself on the big chaos with his razor on the sink when he was looking for your towel, at the moment he was the least concerned about that. He took a handful of tissues and wiped the blood off his wound.

"You joined after all?" He felt like he could breathe again when he heard your voice. He hugged you tightly to himself. 

He wrapped you up in a towel, and swooped you up in his arms then brought you to your bed. He found the perfect pajamas for you, it was your comfiest one, and he helped you put it on. Then when he pulled your blanket all the way up to your neck he couldn't help himself but admire your face for a little while. "Please don't scare me like this ever again." He stroked a piece of hair out of your face, but you were already dozing off.

-

Oh fuck, last night was an actual nightmare. You took Wooyoung's hand in yours to take a closer look. And there it is, that cut from last night. "How is your hand?" You ask very concerned. You feel very guilty, it's partly your fault.

"Do you remember what happened?" You wish you would not remember anything, maybe then it would be easier to face the people from yesterday. This whole situation is just so embarrassing, you knew you were not a heavy- weighted drinker before, but this never happened before.

"Unfortunately." You say quietly, maybe he wouldn't hear it. You must have been such a pain in the ass for poor Wooyoung. And what are the others think of you right now? You would rather bury yourself in the deepest hole if you could. "I'm so sorry." You looked down ashamed.

"Don't worry, it happens to everyone sometimes. The others are in worse conditions, I think you won after all." His words comforted you a little, but there was still a thing that bothered you. 

"You haven't answered me yet. So how is your hand? Does it hurts a lot?" You placed your palms on his chest, while he was looking for the right words to say because he didn't want you to worry too much about him. "It's not that bad I swear. I was just careless." Huhh if he was careless, then what were you? "I'm more worried about your head, to be honest. Do you feel anything unusual?" He strokes your head gently.

"It hurts a lot, but it's nothing more than a simple hangover." He placed a soft kiss on your cheek as you reassured him. 

The rumbling of your stomach ruined this intimate moment. "Are you hungry? I made some Haejangguk last night." Ohh so it was him, mystery solved. Then you didn't miraculously learn how to cook in the middle of the night. What a pity.

-

taglist* @laylasbunbunny @yeow6n (you can message me if you want to be added or removed)

[invidiia]

❐ - yandere!dazai comforting his darling who's afraid of thunderstorms

note ; hey florida weather, what the fuck?? what happened to our sunny summer?? anyway, it's thundering here pretty badly and scaring my dog and i, so let's do this!! short cause my brain went sooo blank, i think i'll do a chuuya version sometime soon thoughh

warning ; soft-ish!yandere!!! implied kidnapped reader 🥹 so sorry to anyone who was hoping for normal hcs about this LOL!! i condone NONE of this irl.

masterlist - rules - previous

dazai often kept you home while he worked late. it was unusual, actually - he normally came home as soon as possible, even trying to get off work early because he has something else to do.. but he really just wants to see your face.

it was a bad night, really, he was kept inside the agency building while rain poured down roughly on the sidewalks. with just an umbrella, dazai tried to get to his place the fastest he could while you were curled up in a blanket waiting for the loud thunder to subside.

the thunderstorms in yokohama weren't terrible, but this one in particular made you just want to crawl under the tables and not come out until it was over.

so when dazai unlocked the door and opened it, he half expected you to run to him because he knew that the loud, inconvenient noises of the thunder bothered you, which was why he always tried not to make loud noises when he was with you.

he understood, too - he wasn't the biggest fan of thunder, but he didn't mind it. the only other reason he didn't like it was because it scared you. dazai would do something about the weather if he could, he'd do it in a heartbeat - but he couldn't, so he could try to console you instead.

dazai entered his home slowly, closing the door quickly behind him and locking it, just to be safe. he didn't full trust you, after all.

but he was quick to notice how instead of doing anything, you were on the sofa in the corner, curled in a blanket while covering your ears. usually, you'd hear when dazai came home, but this time, you only realized he was there because the door opened next to you.

"my dear, what's wrong? i'm here, the thunder can't hurt you.. what? don't look at me like that. nothing can possibly stain your beauty.. but i can't stand to see you upset, belladonna. i just love you!"

dazai was right, thunder couldn't harm you.. i mean, lightning could, but that wasn't really the issue at hand. the taller man bent down, grabbing your chin and pinching your face with his other hand. he thought you were just so cute when you were scared.

you did try to evade his touch - but lightning struck again, and seconds later, you heard a loud bang. dazai took his hands off your face and reached to hug you, but the thunder had shaken you up, causing you to jerk forward and into his arms. correction.. his chest, since he was taller, and standing up.

"ah, you're hugging me, darling, i thought this day would never come-!" dazai laughed, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you closer, even while you tried to pull back after realizing that you were hugging him.

you wanted to yell at him to shut up - but another lightning bolt had struck, creating another loud noise. maybe it was nice, being held like this. it caused you to just hug him tighter. dazai just laughed at you, kissing the top of your head before sitting down next to you, pulling you down a bit so you could lay in his lap. he hadn't bothered taking his coat off, but it wasn't an issue.

he didn't do anything else.. he just sat there. his touch wasn't awful. maybe it wasn't that bad.

you and dazai sat there in silence. he would have commented on how you didn't do anything to get out of his hold, but he didn't want to spoil the moment. he didn't, and neither did you. it was somewhat comforting.

a/n: my mind went sooo blank after this, please forgive mee

[crash-and-cure]

Would it be a Sin? (Yandere! Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit​

Summary: Your Husband will forever keep you safe, no matter the cost.

A/N: Full disclosure, I am a Latina, specifically my family is from Mexico. When I first got this request from @ilovehobi101​ I worried as to how I could frame the conflict that some members felt comfortable bullying reader (y’know aside from casual 60’s misogyny) but also why reader wouldn’t really speak up about it. And then I saw my profile picture and was reminded of the serious lack of Latin!reader fics in this fandom, and voila. Also I understand the utter swaglessness of having a latin!reader that starts off as a maid, but trust me the occupation has relevance to the plot. Reader does speak spanish and I will acknowledge that some of the spanish spoken is very specific to the Mexican dialect. Also I love how I was asked for soft!yandere and my thoughts immeadiately went to murder. I got in right under the wire to was able to post this on Elvis’ birthday.

Warnings: Smut, though more towards the end, and not while reader is pregnant (but does include depictions of Hand kink, cockwarming, vaginal fingering. Pregnant!reader. Implied murder, hiding and burying of a body featured. Period-typical xenophobia, racism, and microagressions galore toward a poc!reader as well as the use of some racial slurs. Sexual harassment depicted, though not from Elvis. Yandere!Elvis themes of obsessive, manipulative, and gaslighting behavior, as well as some controlling and isolating tendencies as well, though, softer and not as overt as I have written before. Traumatic birth is described and as well as descriptions of a pre-mature baby. ANGST galore here. Blood and Injuries from a fall depicted. Symptoms of PTSD.

Word Count: 14.5k

My Masterlist

You love Elvis Presley. And you were lucky enough to be the woman that he loves back.

There was no doubt in your mind. 

It almost plays out like a fairy tale. The King that fell for the maid. 

When you were just a maid that cleaned up after him and his friends in Beverly Hills, you didn’t expect this house to be much different from the other houses you’d worked at. You’d been working working as a maid for a few years now, so you knew the deal. Rich people liked their big houses to be clean, but didn’t want to actually think about it being clean, so you were to be seen not heard. They rarely ever spoke to you, mostly they handed a list to one of the girls, and left the house for the day, and you would leave before they returned. When you did on occasion actually see them it would mostly be them calling for you, usually by the wrong name, and pointing to a mess, before leaving the room, truly thinking you were stupid and could only take the simplest of commands (you would on occasion meet these people again after you and Elvis became official, and they never remembered you).

Elvis at the very beginning proved to be no different. You were in his house constantly and yet you didn’t even see him in person until maybe a month or two after you started. As you understood it he was a busy man, especially as he was trying to make a movie career happen, after being gone for so long. 

You wouldn’t exactly call the first time you met him magical, or even anything really special for you. You and a few other girls had entered the house and immediately you saw evidence of a party from last night and you could also hear some pretty explicit sounds coming from where you knew the master bedroom to be, one voice pretty distinct even if you had never heard it in person, the other a mystery to you. You and some of the girls got a little giggly, while the others seemed pretty annoyed by this whole thing.

Your tía was on the annoyed side of this situation, which grew even more when one of the tasks was cleaning the stairs and polishing the railing. You're the one that ends up volunteering to do it seeing everyone else was too embarrassed to even try to get near there. 

“Suena como si estuviera puliendo la baranda también,” your friend Linda would snicker.

You smacked her arm, and said “pinche puta,” between laughs. Though you can’t say you were any better because you couldn’t help but be very curious as to whether or not the girl upstairs is someone famous or not. Not because you plan on sharing that information with the others, you’re just very curious by nature and always have been. It’s gotten you in trouble in a few places, but you’ve been able to pull the “no hablo ingles” card and it’s usually enough. 

And that’s how you met your future husband, crouched down to get to a hard to reach place on the bannister pretending you’re not interested in what’s going on in the other room, as he walked out of his bedroom in only his boxers, hair a mess, scratching his ass while yawning. It throws you a little how handsome you still think he is in person, even in this less than glamorous situation you find yourself in.

“Hola señor,” you said, trying to hide your embarrassment as you got right back to work to get a particularly stubborn spot. You’re also praying he’s not so uptight as to have you fired for seeing him like this, and your hope is that if you act like nothing's wrong he’ll barely even notice you.

“Um… uh… I-I,” you hear him stutter out. You turn around, prepared to either be given a task or be fired on the spot, but to your surprise you find one of the most desired men in the world stuttering over his words while his ears turn a bright red. That color transfers almost entirely to his whole face when you both hear a feminine yawn coming from his room. That manages to shake him out of his stupor as he scrambles back toward his bedroom and closes the door.

Well… I’m fired, which you’re actually sad about, because of all the houses you work he definitely gives the best tips. You know that girls have been let go at other houses for less than this, so you quietly make your way closer to the door, still near the bannister, hoping at the least your curiosity won’t be in vain and you’ll be able to see if it's someone famous.

“...you said I could stay awhile longer,” the girl says. Her voice isn’t so breathy, so you doubt it’s Marilyn or Jayne, but not so posh sounding that you think it’s a Debbie or Audrey. 

“I-I know darlin’, but somethin’ came up,” you hear him say. He sounds guilty, as though he was just caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. 

“Are we still going to that place you were telling me about later?”

“Mmm…” is all you hear from him in response. English may have been your second language, but even you recognize a non-answer when you hear one. You can’t help but cringe at that and for her sake, you hope, for her sake, she drove herself here. 

Down below you hear Linda calling and asking you to bring down the duster, but as you grab it intending to make a quick exit from the situation, you realize you neglected to finish the job you were sent to do and you lose your balance at the very top of the stairs when your grip fails you from all of the polish. 

There isn’t really anytime for your life to flash before your eyes as someone snatches your wrist and brings you upright again. “You alright there darlin’?” Elvis would ask as he guides you away from the stairs sounding genuinely worried for you while you try to catch your breath. Your heart skips a beat when you see how blue his eyes are, and you quickly try to gather yourself.

“Thank you,” you say. You notice he’s wearing a robe now and also how he’s gazing at you, not saying anything. “You want me to clean in there?” you say to break the tension a bit, which works as you see his cheeks redden a bit as he looks back at his bedroom.

“No, no, I-I uh…” he stutters, before clearing his throat. “If you don’t mind, my uh gir-lady… friend, needs to leave and she uhh…” 

“You want me to distract the others while she leaves?” 

“Y-you don’t mind?” 

“Well you just saved my life so I think I owe you.” you say to him as you lean over the bannister and confirm that they were all in the living room. You go to grab the railing, but quickly snatch your hand back. “Not falling for that one again.” you say looking back at him, and you see that gets a half smile out of him.

“Wait,” he says as you’re halfway down the stairs. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

It’s rare that you’re ever asked that on the job, so for perhaps the first time on the job, your smile is genuine as you tell him.

“Y/N” he repeats, apparently liking the way it rolls off his tongue. And surprisingly enough so do you.

So you make your way down to the room you know they’re cleaning and let them know that the boss wants all of you to clean the kitchen right now. They’re annoyed but nonetheless comply and once you make sure they’re all out you look back up the stairs and give him the thumbs up. He gives you a dopey smile as he gives one back.

Rather than being fired over the incident, he surprises you by actually giving you and the others even more hours. And the hours you worked for him, he so happens to be home. Your tía warns you to be on your best behavior, because typically this means that they think that one of you stole something so they’re keeping an eye on you. With the way one of his friends kept looking at you when you were in the same room as him you figured she was right. But the way Elvis was acting around you, was what threw away this notion.

He was always going out of his way to talk to you, always finding excuses to be in the same room as you, even offering little gifts in the form of sweets. Mix in the fact that you also became the only one who was allowed within places that not even his friends could go into like his bedroom, this all told you that he liked you, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions as to what way.

After he finished shooting his movie he would ask you to house sit for him while he was back in Memphis, stating he felt he could trust you to keep the house clean and to be responsible with it unlike his other friends. Even after you saw what he was willing to pay you for essentially living alone in his mansion for a month, you hesitated because who just offers that to someone they just met and your tía’s warnings about men like him didn’t help either. You eventually caved when he promised to consider you for a full-time/live-in maid if you did a good job. 

Then two days after he left, you got a late night call from him. You were honestly happy for it, because the house felt too big and too empty with just you there. It didn’t help that the room he left for you was far too nice, and you missed sharing your bed with your little sisters. Suffice to say, being all alone was unsettling for you

“Sorry if I woke ya’ Y/N, I-I just…” he said, nervousness clear in his voice. “I-I just been lookin’ for somethin’ and I think I forgot to pack it.”

“You want me to look for it?”

“If you could be a doll,” he says, relieved. “Ju-just take a look in my room, and see if you can find it there. It’s a black cowboy hat, and I think it was in a white box in the closet.”

You set the phone aside and made your way up there. When you do find it you let him know as much, but decide to have a little fun with it now that you’re up. “I found it Mr. Presley. But there is a problem.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It looks better on me,” you say as you look at yourself wearing it in the mirror. 

“I bet it does,'' he says between laughs. This does create a bit of a pause between you two as you recognize that you’re essentially flirting with your boss, and to your horror he’s flirting right back. 

“So is this for a movie or are you just going to run away to become a cowboy?” You say in an effort to change the subject. 

You hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Much as I wish it was the last one, it’s for my next movie. Dolores del Rio’s gon’ be in it.” 

You’re floored at that. “¡No manches! She’s my favorite actress. I thought she wasn’t ever coming back to Hollywood.”

That gets the two of you talking about movies for hours. It was easy to forget that you’re talking to one of the most sought after stars in Hollywood right now as he gushes about his favorite actors the same way you do. What surprises you most is when he asks you who you’ve met while working in LA. 

“I’ll never tell,” you tease. 

“What, you hate ‘em that much Darlin”?” he laughs.

“Yes,” you jokingly agree, ignoring the way your heart skipped at that nickname.

“I ain’t surprised though,” he says. “There’s some crazies livin’ out there. Ones that’ll ya’ call in the middle of the night ‘bout a cowboy hat, and have you on the phone ‘til… wow 3 in the morning.”

“And some maids are crazy enough to lay in their bed and let them,” you counter, only to clamp up and realize how bad that sounded from the strangled noise he makes on the other side of the phone. You quickly try to backtrack and promise you didn’t mean it that way. 

He reassures you that he takes no offense from that, but he does sound like he’s breathing heavier now, and you worry that you accidentally took the harmless flirting with him too far. You quickly give an excuse to leave, “I have a busy day of sitting on your house tomorrow.” You're glad he laughs at that but it does sound a little stiffer than the other one he’s so freely given. After you hang up you tidy up what you can, and make your way back to your room, hoping to pray some dangerous thoughts away.

The next day you try to act like nothing happened, but that’s all thrown out the window that night as Elvis calls again with a similar request to find a pair of his boots that he couldn’t find, and it proceeds much like the previous call. Eventually after the second week of nightly calls he drops the act entirely and calls just so he can talk to you. And you welcome them, because it made the house feel less empty when he did.

When he got back to LA you didn’t know what to expect from him anymore as the late night calls turned into late night talks in the kitchen. That turned into daylight jokes and conversations between the two of you. And honestly even more open flirting between the two of you, but it all came to a head one day as the two of you were walking down the stairs. 

“So wait? Your character hears a song on the radio that you, Elvis, sang, and he doesn’t talk about the fact that you look exactly like him.” 

“It ain’t Shakespeare, but it’s gettin’ me back out there,” he says sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That’s too bad,” you say as you reach the bottom of the stairs. “I think you would make a great Romeo.”

“Oh…” he says, his voice going low for a moment, as in the next moment you find yourself trapped between him and the railing. “Tell me Satnin, what ‘bout me reminds you a Romeo.” 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breathing is a little heavier than it was before. The smirk on his stupidly plush lips tell you he no doubt wanted this reaction, so you decide to show him what it was that reminded you of Romeo, and kiss him fully on the mouth. It was a quick peck on the lips but you could still see the faint traces of your lipstick on him. “Those are what remind me of Romeo.” 

He’s stunned at your boldness but no less welcoming as he brings a hand to your face to bring you back, but you use that opportunity to step on to the bottom step and away from him. You leave him on that staircase, your face warm at what you just did, biting your lip to keep from fully laughing at Elvis’ frozen state on the steps. 

Later that same day, he would tell you how his upcoming movie was going to be shot in Hawaii, and how coincidentally, he felt that you were in desperate need of a vacation. The rest was history for the two of you. 

You love Elvis Presley.

You love everything about Elvis Presley, save for one thing. 

His friends.

You will admit you like a few of them. Most of the others are fine, but indifferent towards you. Some of them get on your nerves but otherwise you can live with them, like when they tease you over your accent or snicker under their breath when you forget words. You don’t like it, but you put up with it. 

One of them you absolutely hated, with all of your being: Eric. 

He’s the one that has been around the longest with Elvis. He went on tour with him in the early days, went to Germany with him, and now he’s here in Hollywood with him. He even brags he was the one to give Elvis the final push he needed to get on stage. Yes he was more partial to the party lifestyle than the others, and had a tendency to speak without much thought, but Elvis reassured you that he was deep down a good guy.

You find that hard to believe, because you don’t know what it is about you that Eric finds so offensive, but whatever it is, it’s apparently unforgivable in his mind. 

Even though you spoke it just as well as Spanish, most people assumed you didn’t speak English at all. You let this slide mostly because you’re nosy and people are a lot freer with their words around you when they think you can’t understand them. You begin to regret that decision when Eric got comfortable enough to tell you how badly he wanted to fuck you and what he would do when he did. Usually your go to tactic was to start speaking rapid Spanish, which like most white people, made him confused and very uncomfortable, pick up a cleaning tool and walk into a different room, usually one where you knew Elvis was.

“You’re a lil’ fuckin’ whore you know that?” he would seethe while you cleaned the kitchen the night you were all set to leave for Hawaii. “Just like the rest of ‘em. He’s only taking you because he wants to fuck you.” The foul smell coming from him tells you that he’s been drinking, so you’re on edge right now. Everything about this is setting you off right now, and you know you have to get out of here right now. 

…But not before you got the last word in.

You look him right in the eyes, and as he sees the understanding in your eyes, you can also see him realize before you speak your first word to him, that you knew this whole time what he had been saying to you.

“Probably,” you say, and then you turn right around and make you way to Elvis that night.

You don’t if it’s embarrassment for what you heard him say to you, shame that you heard what he said or fear that you could and would tell Elvis at any moment what he’s like to you when no one was around. Whatever the case may be he would spend the next few years making comments under his breath about you, passive aggressively handing you plates to and glasses to clean, so on and so forth.

As did a lot of his friends, as they didn’t take you seriously at first, thinking you were going to eventually be replaced, that was until the argument that had his former manager walk away. When the press had learned about you, they had called you Elvis’ “Hot Tamale,” which you didn’t love, but what you loved even less was the threat that this story posed to his career.

But that’s also when you know you fell for him completely. Even you had fully expected him to drop you the moment the press got wind of you, because celebrities as big as him simply don’t end up with the maid, let alone a maid that looks and sounds like you. But he didn’t. He didn’t flinch at any of the things they threw at him: Not when his manager walked, not when the studio threatened to pull his contract, not even when a veritable mob stood outside the gates of his home demanding he be arrested for “indecency.” He took all of it, all so that you two could be together. 

Colonel Tom Parker wanted you gone, and forgotten. The last time you ever saw him he was saying shit like how he didn’t want Elvis to be so “controversial,” and how he would ruin his image as a “good American boy,” over quote “some little wetback.” You got the pleasure of seeing his face turn from angry to murderous as those words left that man's vile mouth, and the way every other face in that room drained of color as he went off on him had you breathing a little heavier by the end of it.

Though it all worked out for the better in the end as Elvis had ten new offers from people who worked with Brando and Dean before he was even out of the gate (all asking for a lot less than what he was paying the Colonel). None of them were afraid to take such a “scandalous” client, and were even able to work it in his favor to get more serious roles he had always been after.

Eventually most people seemed to get over it, and you became the new “it” girl, as magazines went from criticizing you for every little thing that was “unamerican” about you to praising how “exotic” and “spicy” you were. It doesn’t matter what they think, so long as you were with Elvis, you were untouchable, you believed. 

That is why you put up with his friends, it felt like after all that he does for you, the least you could do was fight your own battles. 

You had woken up today well-rested and your baby moving beneath your heart. You would have labeled it a perfect morning if it weren’t for the fact that your husband was absent, as he was currently doing reshoots for his movie half a world away right now. 

He had been furious at the studio for this, and tried everything he could to delay shooting because he wanted to be with you as much as he could right now. He had made it no secret how he wanted a big family, and having grown up in one you couldn’t help but agree eagerly. You were engaged for about a month in total, he was so impatient to start trying for a baby, but you were no better in all honesty.

It eventually took when you were with him in Hawaii for the original shoot of the movie. As appealing as being with him there right before your baby is due sounds, you can’t think of anything worse than a more than ten hour flight. You barely survived the flight back home when you were just barely into your pregnancy, you doubt you would be able to make it this late. Besides, you're saving your patience for flying for your upcoming stay in LA, as you had made plans to have your baby there. 

Graceland has become home to you, but Memphis has not. You’ve known since the moment that Elvis decided you were it, that the two of you would be toeing the line. Because being latin, the law here didn’t technically make it illegal for you two to be married, but certain people here made it very clear that they take your marriage as some cardinal sin. As a result, when you are here, you never leave Graceland without him. 

Usually you loved being here. When the house is filled with friends and family it actually does feel like a home, and even when it’s just the two of you, neither of you ever feel lonely. But without him, you now feel the way you did when you were just house sitting for him.

This is why, when you learned about the reshoots, you insisted on being in LA, so you at least wouldn’t be as cooped up there as you were in Graceland and you would have your family nearby. That was one of the biggest fights you’ve had in all the years you’ve been together, as you hated the idea of being in Graceland without him, and he hated the idea of you being in LA without him.

You didn’t relent until you found out why he was so reluctant to have you there. He didn’t want to scare you, but he had learned a while ago that someone had broken into the Hillcrest house. Nothing was taken, but it scared him nonetheless, and he wanted you to stay in Graceland just so he could have the peace of mind. And for all that it made you feel restrained, you can’t help but agree that Graceland is safe so long as you stay within. Red and Pat as Elvis didn’t want you without protection and Pat was pregnant too, so you didn’t have to feel so alone in the house. But Pat, unlike you, was free to leave at any time she pleased and you can’t begrudge her for doing so.

Of course Elvis has been trying to make your confinement easier by calling you every night. He missed you just as much as you did, and didn’t want to go a day without at least hearing your voice. Some calls are sweet, where he asks you to hold the phone to your belly so that he can talk to the baby, and funnily enough you notice that when he does the baby kicks like crazy. There are of course less than sweet calls, the ones that have you be as vocal as possible as you grind down onto his pillow.

Last night's call was different though, just from how much of a mood he had been in already. He had called to tell you that Eric and Joe were on their way back early, and with the venom dripping from his voice, you knew it had to be bad. He didn’t go into detail, but from what you understood is that Eric had been “fucking around” and now Elvis wants nothing to do with him. So much so that he was sent back to Memphis a week earlier than the rest of them, all so that he can get all of his things from Graceland before Elvis’ return. Joe’s only coming to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. With Red already here you figure that the two of them should be able to take him, but you doubt he’ll try anything now of all times when Elvis is so mad at him already. 

Eric had been like a looming black cloud over this whole experience, making jabs that he now understood the rush to get married so quickly and how Elvis is now trapped. Elvis was able to deflect these comments by joking how if anything he trapped you. Though in the few times he’s gotten you alone, the comments turned into how Elvis should best make sure you’re having a baby, to how he better make sure it’s his baby. You didn’t like what he was implying but you also knew that he was just saying shit to see what stuck, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Most of the other men had taken the hint when you and Elvis were gushing about how big of a family you wanted and had quietly moved their things out of their designated rooms, and into their own houses, while Eric seemed to dig himself in like a tick. You know Elvis is never about to ask someone to leave, and much as you would like to see this man off for the last time you decided it would be best not to counter him and to just stay upstairs for the time being.

The uppermost floor was your and Elvis’ own little world, where you two were just a young married couple awaiting the arrival of the first addition to your family. This is where the two of you could retreat away from everyone and just be. But with one of you gone it felt wrong, and you find yourself restlessly cleaning and organizing the floor above trying to make everything absolutely perfect for his return.

Though being roughly a little over seven months, you’re almost immediately exhausted and you find yourself resting your feet in what will become the baby’s room. It’s quickly become your favorite room in all of Graceland, with the little stuffed animals everywhere and the music notes painting the wall. You have no idea if the baby is going to be a boy or girl, but Elvis swears that he’s ready to pull the trigger on a theme the moment you figure it out. 

“¿Qué piensas?” you say to your bump, enjoying the breeze from the open balcony door. “Una patada para los vaqueros o dos para las princesas.” The baby kicks three times, and you laugh while rubbing your belly. Later on you would recognize this to truly be your last moment of peace. 

“How precious,” a vile voice sneers at you. 

Your smile instantly drops and rather than acknowledge him, you look out the window with your hand protectively over your baby. They're kicking up a storm, almost beat for beat matching your heart rate. “Elvis says, you’re not allowed to be up here,” you say curtly.

"He also says to keep the dogs outside, but I see a little bitch right in front a me." 

"I think big bitch would be more appropriate," you say, all the while rubbing your belly. He's always hated not being able to get a reaction out of you, or how you've never gone to Elvis about what he does as though he's not worth the air it would take to do so. Counter to what people believe about people like you, you’re very capable of keeping your cool and you save your passion for your love not your hatred. And you have no love for Eric.

“You must be so goddamn proud a yourself, being able to get your claws in him like you did,” he spits out. “Struttin’ around here with that little bastard in your belly like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Wait, I thought I was a dog?”

“...What?” 

“I’m confused because you said I was a dog and now you’re saying I’m a cat.” you say coyle while sarcastically throwing your hands in the air. “Tell me Eric, what am I?”

“You’re a little fuckin’ whore is what you are!” he shouts. “You know damn well that there wasn’t no break-in at Hillcrest. He just doesn’t want you in LA because he don’t want you fuckin’ around behind his back! I tried tellin’ him as much, but he didn’t want to hear none of it.”

You stand up and walk out of the room, not willing to hear anymore lies of a sad miserable man that has been digging his own grave for years. You weren’t even there, so he cannot seriously blame you for whatever he did to get himself fired. You know better than most how hot Elvis can run, but you also know how quick he is to forgive, so whatever he said or did to get Elvis this way, must have truly been something. 

You make your way to the office, hoping to lock yourself in there and that his outburst caused enough of a commotion to get the other men’s attention. He’s still spewing vile at you, but you’re simply blocking it out until you feel a hand yank your head back hard. 

Everything happens quick after that, as you feel the back of your being yanked away from your intended destination and being led to a different direction. You try your best to scratch at the hand that holds your hair, but his grip is too tight and suddenly you’re flying. 

And then you’re not.

You’re frozen at the landing, not wanting to believe what had just happened. Your heart is pounding in your ears, you feel your face get wet, and most horrifyingly, your baby is not moving. The carpet on the floor begins to be dotted with red but you don’t understand where it’s coming from until a little blood makes its way into your eye. As you hear the heavy footfalls coming down the stairs you start hyperventilating, trying to get a hold of the bannister and praying that he’ll stop. 

Getting to the railing you hear someone shouting what was that!?!? And someone else shouting where’d he go!?!? You see the others finally at the bottom of the stairs and for a moment the nightmare is over and you think he wouldn’t be so stupid as to continue now, but then you feel a foot firmly place itself on your back. You’re thrown off balance and you’re plummeting down once again. You’re abruptly put to a stop as Red and Joe meet you halfway up the stairs, and they share a worried look at you. You feel fine now, but you will admit that the slick feeling coming from between your legs is uncomfortable. 

You’re confused as to what’s going on, Red rushes his way up the stairs to your tormentor who only gives you a cold look as he’s being restrained. Joe is helping you to your feet and rushing you out the front door while Pat grabs your purse and yells at Mary to call Elvis. 

They’re taking you to the cars and you’re not sure why, you just need to clean the blood off of yourself and you’ll be fine. It isn’t until you look down and see the dark red that stains your blue dress do you realize what’s happening. 

Joe was able to get you to the hospital without issue, but your journey didn’t get any easier from there. The whole experience was nothing but a nightmare for you. Your accented English and skin tone has the nurses trying to direct you to, quote, a more “appropriate,” hospital for you. Even the blood staining the front of your dress and the clear pain you’re in doesn’t seem to sway them. You’re ignored by the staff, as you beg to be seen by a doctor and it’s not until you slap your driver's license on the counter and they see your married name do they suddenly care very much about you and your baby. Or at the least they don’t want to be known as the hospital that turned away Elvis Presley’s wife.

They get you in a wheelchair, and as they take you to the maternity ward, they repeatedly ask you questions and you’re positive you’re speaking English, but none of them seem to understand you. Not even three hours ago you were complaining to Mary how the baby was giving you heartburn, and now you’re in a hospital, with not a single familiar face in sight, begging incoherently for someone to save your baby. 

This is why you had wanted to be in California, where you would have a better chance of having a doctor that spoke Spanish with you. But now here in Memphis, you’re more likely to get a unicorn to deliver your baby, than a doctor that can speak your first language. 

Your legs are held apart by nurses, who don’t care to be gentle with you, as you desperately cling to the rails of your hospital bed, feeling like you’re going to crack your teeth as you desperately push the baby out of you. The pain you feel from the rest of your injuries is nothing compared to this, but you feel like you're seconds away from passing out after each push. But you know you have to keep going because every second that the baby is still in there, the less likely they are to make it. 

And with one final push it’s all over. Amá told you how long the whole thing could be, but your baby came into the world quick and so quiet. You can feel yourself bleeding out more and more, but you still want to see your baby and you ask as much before you pass out. 

When you come to, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know how long you’ve been there, and all the staff is willing to tell you is that you're restricted to bed rest due to the fact that you nearly died from a hemorrhage, and that your baby girl is alive. That’s how you find out you have a daughter, and all you know about her is that she’s alive and you can’t see her. 

You allow for visitors, and the only ones who do come to see you are Pat and Joan, Joe’s wife. Despite your wish to not be alone, seeing Pat’s baby bump only gave you an empty feeling. They let you know that you had been given birth two days ago, that Red and Joe are holding down Graceland, and most importantly Elvis is going to be here soon. 

You don’t ask about Eric. 

You’re glad they’re here even if all you can do at the moment is cry, and feel hollow on the inside.

He looks awful, is your first thought when you see your husband for the first time in almost a month. His eyes are bloodshot, his outfit is wrinkled, and you can see a hint of stubble even from where you're sitting. The girls quickly make their way out as Elvis makes his way over to your side, his chest heaving and his breathing ragged. 

Elvis is not one for tears, but you can only watch helplessly as the love of your life falls apart in your arms. You thought you'd cried yourself dry at this point, but even now you find yourself holding back even more tears as you try to wipe his tears away. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whimpers against your palm. Your heart is  in your throat at this point, knowing he only ever calls you by your name when it’s serious. “I shoulda been here for ya’, this is all my fault.”

“Amor… Amor, please look at me,” you beg. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Y/N, please tell me what happened,” he pleads. 

“They didn’t tell you?” 

“They did… I-I just,” he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I need to hear it from you.”

You’re trying to get your breathing under control, but finally you whisper to him what happened. You’re saddened and humiliated as you tell him how your own pride got you into this mess. The pride that liked to frustrate and rile up Eric, because you thought it was funny. The pride that prevented you from telling Elvis, because you wanted to feel like you were the one handling it. The pride that made you turn your back on a man you knew to be dangerous, because you thought he would never do anything to you. And now people are suffering because of you.

You beg him for forgiveness in the part you played in this, and you’re honestly surprised when he sticks by you and you bury your face in his chest. He tells you there is nothing to forgive, but you can see the dangerous gleam in his eyes as he asks if you want to press charges against him, and you shoot that down just as quickly. 

You don’t trust the police, something that has been with you since your earliest memory, Apá telling you about his scars that he got for having the audacity to wear a Zoot Suit as a young man. Navy men had beaten and stripped him in the streets and then afterwards policemen who saw the whole thing arrested him as though he were the problem. It was a scary thing to tell a little girl, but the older you got the clearer the story became: the police aren’t there to help people like you. 

That’s why you told Elvis not to take it to the police, just to have Eric leave Graceland and never come back. It’s going to be a hassle getting the state to acknowledge your daughter as his, let alone getting them to recognize that anything bad happened to you. You just want to put this whole thing behind you and never have to think about this again. Elvis frowns at that, but you doubt after everything you went through he’s gonna deny you this. 

After things have settled, the doctors make their way to your room, now that Elvis is here, they’ve decided now is a good time to tell you what’s happened. They tell you that the fall caused something called placental abruption and as a result you went into labor prematurely. It also caused internal hemorrhaging that caused you to pass out. None of that mattered to you really, you simply wanted your baby with you, and you let them know as much.

The doctors share a look, but they allow you to leave the bed and Elvis wheels you to where they’re keeping your baby. There is a whole team of doctors and nurses to greet you and tell you how you can see her, and what to prepare for. They escort the two of you to a private room farther away and with private security guarding it.

And then you see her… Your baby girl. 

You never thought babies could be so small.

She lies there, wires attached to her and tubes up her nose. She’s too small to even know how to eat and they have to use a tube in her mouth and a needle in her hand. Her little feet kick at the air, her tiny fists are clenched, and her eyes are shut tight, but you're glad to see it all, to know that your baby is still fighting, still daring to live. 

You want to be able to hold her, to let her know her mamá is there with her, but they tell you she’s not ready to be outside of her box yet, and they warn you of how delicate she is right now, and that the slightest change in her environment could be devastating, so touch is to be limited. The doctors told you that they had almost lost her in the beginning, but she’s a fighter and things are looking up. 

They leave the two of you alone with her, when one of the nurses playfully suggests Erica as a first name on her way out. All at once it hits you like a freight train, why your baby is the way she is now and who is to blame. You weep silently, so she can’t hear your grief over the situation: your baby is weak, so you have to be strong for her now. 

“I hate him. I hate him so much.” You sob, your hand pressing on to the warm glass that separated you and your child. Elvis wraps his arms around you, he doesn’t need to ask who you’re talking about. 

All this time Elvis has been so quiet, and he swiftly wraps you in his arms as he promises to take care of everything, and as he wipes the tears from your face he swears that he will make everything better again. 

You know, in spite of the horror that it was to get her here, you’re both overjoyed to finally be able to meet her. But all too soon the both of you are escorted out and away from her. They explain that once you’re discharged, you and only you will be able to stay with her on a long-term basis, but policy prevents Elvis from being able to do so as well. No amount of money or argument will change that. 

The next few days you vaguely register the visitors Elvis brings to see you, but you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. They all come with well wishes and promises to do anything the two of you need during this time. The men look haunted to see you in such a state and they promise you that they’ll personally make sure Eric never does anything like this again. It’s little consolation to you considering it already happened once.

Finally you’re discharged and you walk yourself straight to the NICU. You visited her as often as you could, as did Elvis, and getting to be with her throughout the day is a step in the right direction. Being there with him makes it easier, but soon Elvis has to leave and your heart breaks all over again. You part with a long sorrowful kiss and you save your tears, knowing that of all times, this is the moment you need to be strong, for both him and your daughter. It was a hard, sleepless night for you and one look at the bags under his eyes and the bruises on his knuckles when you see him the next morning, tells you that Elvis had a similar night to you. 

He smoothes out your brow, as he softly pleads with you not to worry about him and instead to focus on your daughter, as she’s the one who needs you the most. And as he gives you a kiss on your forehead and you wonder what you did to deserve such a loving husband. 

You begged Amá to stay home, not wanting to have to worry about her being this down south without you. She’s apparently been praying everyday for you and the baby, and she’s begging you for the name. You want to tell her so badly, but you can’t risk telling her fearing it will somehow get back to the world at large.

You and Elvis had thought long and hard about the perfect name for your first-born and with everyone seemingly wanting to have a say in it, it was a little overwhelming (with how easy your pregnancy was going you stupidly thought that this was going to be your biggest hurdle to overcome. You wish you could go back to those days).

Eventually though you were able to come to some agreement born from your mutual love of I Love Lucy, though the names mostly stemmed from a joke when some of the magazines started calling you two the new Lucy and Desi. Neither of you could figure out who was supposed to be Lucy and who was supposed to be Desi. And as a play on that, the two of you ultimately decided on Lucía for a girl and Richard for a boy, as a fun little reversal. 

You had been so eager to tell the world about your beautiful baby not even a week ago and now it feels like the last piece of this whole ordeal that you can control. Even the hospital staff only know her as “Baby Presley,” promising that you would only name her once she was discharged. Someone had snuck into the hospital and was able to get a picture of your baby in a box attached to wires and fighting for her life, while the newspapers excitedly announced “It’s Girl!” to all of America. Your husband saw his own daughter for the first time on the front of a newspaper walking into the hospital before he could see her in person or even know if you were dead or alive. It felt like the whole world saw your baby before you did and that hurts you in a way that you fail to find words for in either language you speak. 

That entire stay, you didn’t leave the hospital once, and you rarely ever left her side, and even then it was only when Elvis could be in there with her in your stead. The days all seemed to blend together for you, you would eat so she could eat, you would sleep when she slept, singing and telling her stories everywhere in between, and touching her as frequently as you’re allowed to do so. 

Early when you tried to speak Spanish to her in front of the doctors, they immediately shut you down, “warning” you that doing so has the potential to hold her back if she has to learn another language in the long run. You internally roll your eyes at that, having grown up speaking both, but nonetheless you comply, but save it for when you’re alone with her. On the list of things you absolutely do not need right now is the media turning on you for being a bad mother by not complying with doctors orders. They already make comments on how you should have been more careful in the situation, because as far as anyone outside of Graceland knows, you simply fell down the stairs.

You wouldn’t say it was all bad, you love the moments you’re all together. Moments where you both hold her hands at the same time and feel her delicate skin, where you hear her gurgle as she’s being tickled, and especially the way she wiggles her arms and feet as Elvis sings to her, are ll moments you would never trade trade regardless of the fact that you’re in a cold sterile room and not in your warm home. Elvis even brought a record player and the nights became a little more bearable as now you’re both able to hear him when he’s not there. 

Finally you’re able to get the all clear from the doctor and Lucía finally gets to experience the world outside of her little clear box for the first time in short bursts. You’ll be able to hold your baby fully and not be limited to just holding her hand. In many ways you were not ready to lose being so close to her so fast, and this was only made worse by the fact of how limited you were in touching your own baby during this whole time. And still you worry that maybe she’s still not ready, as you’re still roughly a month away from your original due date.

But as you’re finally able to hold her and you feel her latch on and nurse from you, these doubts and fears all fall silent. Your baby was almost completely ripped away from you, by someone who only had cruelty and spite in their heart for you. But now as she rests in your arms and feeds from you getting stronger, and your husband holds the two of you close to him everything feels as it should be now. 

Not too long after that, Lucía is finally able to be discharged and you can finally take her home. Elvis was nervous no doubt, from all the times he questioned the doctor if he was sure that she was ready and if she couldn’t stay a little longer just to be sure. You have similar thoughts but you’re trying to think on the brighter side of the situation, for the both of you.

Of course you and Elvis still have to do that photoshoot for the press. You hate this, but also recognize that getting this out of the way now will sate their curiosity about your baby and get them to leave you alone, at least for now. You and Elvis recognized this would be the case when you saw them go into a near frenzy the moment you stepped off that plane from Hawaii with an obvious baby bump months ago. 

Ironically enough the only thing that has gone according to plan was this aspect, as you were able to get photographers you’re familiar with and Elvis brought the outfits you picked out months ago. His fans were also willing to give the two of you a wide berth so that you could leave the hospital. You are far too enamored with Lucía to really take notice of any of it, until the two of you are already in front of home. 

Your mood drops once you see where you are, and Elvis takes notice of that. He squeezes your hand and reassures you that everything's been cleaned and that the trash’s been taken out. Still, walking through the front door, you held onto his arm for dear life and your hands were shaking so bad you had him hold Lucía, as you were afraid you would drop her. You're greeted inside by a few friends and his family, but your eyes immediately narrow in on the stairs and you're relieved to see that it’s completely clean. Without the bloodstains, it’s easier to forget that anything terrible happened here. 

Everyone wants to get to see her and the two of you are immediately, but a squeeze to his arm from you and the subsequent single look he gives them has them back up a little. You’re able to sit down in the living room, and hold your baby in your home for the first time, but not all is right in the world. No one has said anything about the big Eric shaped elephant in the room, as they all no doubt know why you went into labor so early.

The women do their best to distract you from it, talking about their own experiences being a new mother, and how this has been a stressful time for everyone, especially the men who’ve been jumpy for weeks now. But no matter what your attention keeps being drawn back to the stairs, as though any minute Eric’s going to be trotting down to finish the job any moment now. You try to distract yourself with anything else in the room, and that’s when you notice something off about the carpet. You figured that the carpet would have been replaced but what’s odd is the fact that you remember going straight from the staircase to the car as you were bleeding, so you don’t understand why the carpet in the den had to have been replaced too. 

You shake these concerns from your head and begin to make your way outside to get some air, because the walls are making you feel like you’re going to suffocate. That’s where you find the men, as all smoking within Graceland had been banned for the foreseeable future, and Elvis still insisted on finally using those cigars he got for the occasion. What’s weird is that they don’t surround the patio or even the pool area. No, you find them more out towards the field, surrounding a large unsightly hole in the ground.

“Amor, what did you do to the backyard?” You question your husband when he makes his way back to where you’re sitting.

Some of the men tense up at your question, but seeing Elvis not really react to the question other than a slightly nervous laugh, makes you disregard anything’s amiss.

“Well…” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “after I got done with the nursery. I-I wanted to add something to the backyard so it wasn’t so empty to look at.”

“... and you decided the best way to make it less empty was to dig a hole?”

“It ain’t gon’ stay a hole, Darlin’,” he laughs, wrapping an arm around you. “I was plannin’ on puttin’ in one a them Gazebos in the back for our little princess here. It… It kept me busy the nights I couldn't sleep.”

You soften at that answer, knowing that with his sleep issues, the nights must have been torture for him. He was always the first visitor to arrive at the ward and the last one to leave, and only once did you ever dare ask what he did when he went home at night. You worried about him, how could you not? And so one day you gathered the courage to ask him how he was handling the nights?

All he said was that he “keeps busy.” At the time you didn’t want to know what he meant, as it was a stressful time for the both of you, so digging holes in the backyard is far from the worst thing he could have been doing.

You give an amused sigh saying, “Next time, get professionals to do it.”

He grins at that, “Don’t worry baby, we got a crew comin’ in to fill the hole in a few days. I wanted to have it done before you and the lil’ one got back home.” You shake your head at him and kiss him on the cheek. You don’t really notice the way most of the men take a simultaneous sigh of relief at your acceptance of Elvis’ answer. 

Later on you’re putting Lucía down in a little bassinet Elvis had set by your bed (you’re both reluctant to be away from her), and you feel him make his way behind you. The both of you lay beside each other and watch her sleep, and now, not having to be obscured by tubes or glass, you get to really see your beautiful baby girl. She’s sleeping with her arms straight up, her little chest rising and falling on its own, and the two of you nearly melt as she yawns and rubs her little mitten covered hands over her face. 

“You ready to sleep yet?” he whispers to you. 

“No, I just want to look at her some more.”

“Me too,” he hums. 

You sit with your husband and bask in this perfect moment.

You didn’t really notice the off-atmosphere that surrounded Graceland in those days, until you noticed that a trunk of yours was missing. You think you had packed some old baby things your mother had given you the last time you had been in LA. It had been with you in Graceland before you left the hospital, and it had also been where you were storing the outfit you wore when you left the hospital, so the fact that it’s gone is odd to say the least. Considering Elvis was the one that brought the outfit to you, he’s the one you end up asking. 

“What trunk?” he asks. 

“The big white one,” you say to him as you change Lucía into her pajamas. She’s trying to eat her fist and you’re trying to get her to smile by nibbling on her fingers a little. “The one you got me the first time in Hawaii.” 

“Oh that one,” he responds. “Didn’t you leave it at Hillcrest?”

“No, I know I brought it here.” you say confused. “I asked you to look in it to find the pink outfit I wore at the hospital. It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

He furrows his brow at that and he looks deep in thought, “Didn’tcha say that you didn’t want to pack clothes that don’t fit no more?” He says as he brings Lucía to rest on his bare chest. 

You do vaguely remember saying something along those lines when you were packing, but still you remember having it here with you. “Maybe… but I did bring it here,” you say, though not as sure as you once were.

“Y/N, why you wanna know so bad?” he says, as he gently pats Lucia on the back trying to get her to fall asleep. This question throws you a bit, not for the words themselves, but the way he said it, as there was a severe lack of humor or warmth in his tone as he said that, that you weren’t used to. 

“I-I was looking for a few baby things that Amá gave me last time I saw her.” you say, suddenly feeling guilty for pushing the topic. 

His eyes soften at your answer, realizing he scared you. He holds up your chin and gives a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“I-I think, I saw ‘em when I I was lookin’ for the little pink get up a yours,” you see him jump a little. “Though you might wanna save the lookin’ for tomorrow,” he says, a slight grimace on his face, as he looks down at your baby girl. “‘Cuz lil’ one here is trying to tap a dry well.” You burst out laughing as you see that Lucía has a good grip on one of his nipples and is trying desperately to bring it to her mouth. 

“Esos son para mamá, chula,” you jokingly scold her, as you bring her close to you so she can latch onto you, and Elvis tickles your side in reprimand. Still even with that moment of levity, you still can’t let go of what just happened. If it were anything else you would have written it off but that trunk was special to you because of the fact that Elvis had given it to you on that fateful trip to Hawaii. He had insisted you pack light, which confused you until about a week later when by that point he had already gifted you twice as many dresses as you had come with. By the end of the trip he gave you this trunk just to pack everything he had given you. (Smooth operator that he was, when the trunk found its way into his room when you got back home, he insisted it would be easier for you to move into his room, rather than moving the trunk into yours).

It has been a pretty constant presence in your relationship with him, as it went where you went, and you went where he went. But… you didn't go with him to Hawaii, and you did leave a lot of old clothes back in LA… maybe it is just baby brain, and you’re overthinking this.

Things only really seem to click that something is off a few days later when you caught Charlie staring out into the backyard. If it were anybody else from the group you wouldn’t have noticed or cared too much, but you liked Charlie. He seemed to be one of the more genuine ones of them all, and he’s also one of the few of them who's at least picked up on some of the more common Spanish phrases in all the years you’ve known him.

But now Charlie seems distant, as though he’s somewhere else in his head. He’s staring off into the same direction as where that pit is now. 

“Charlie, ¿qué pasa?” you ask, and he seems to jump ten feet in the air. 

“Y/N, hi-hello… um…I-I, d-do ya’ need something?” he manages to stutter out. 

“Yes umm…” you say slightly embarrassed about what you’re about to ask. “I want to put Lucía down for a nap, but I need someone else to help carry her up there with me.” You would have asked Elvis, but he’s upstairs already and you’re not about to leave her alone to go get him.

“Sure, but… why do you need help,” he asks, genuinely confused over the request. 

“I… well, since the fall, I… I don’t trust myself to hold her on the stairs,” you say, your eyes going a bit glassy. You shake your head to gather yourself, “I ju-just need someone else to carry her on the stairs. I’m fine on my own.” If by fine you meant having to have both feet on each step going up and down, and never letting go of the railing, then yes very fine. Elvis was heartbroken when he saw this the first time, but didn’t say anything about it, just offered you his arm and let you take your time. 

Charlie has the same reaction and wordlessly helps you with her. Though you do trail behind him you eventually are able to make it up to the landing, where you see Elvis whispering something to him. You think he says something to the effect, you understand now? Charlie would give a small nod in response as he hands Lucía to him and makes his way down the stairs after giving you a quick hug. 

You’re about to ask what that was about, when you see something on one of the steps that knocks the wind out of your lungs. You see a familiar looking rust colored spot on one step, and you force yourself to sit down, feeling unsteady on your feet and your eyes welling up all of a sudden. 

“Baby what's wrong?” Elvis says trotting down the steps, Lucía still in his arms. Your hands are shaking and your breathing quicker than you should, and you're filled with the same dread that you felt as Eric walked down those same steps. “Goddamnit, I thought they got all of it” he whispers when he sees where your eyes are fixated. He crouches down beside you and takes you in his arms as he whispers in your “You’re okay sweetheart,” he says, “You and Lucía are okay.” 

Gradually you feel yourself steady as you breathe in the scent of his cologne, and feel the way Lucía clutches around your finger. That brings you back down and you’re able to stop your weeping as you focus solely on the two most important people in your life.

You wouldn’t know this, but at the bottom of the steps, just beyond your view several men would come to the same understanding as Charlie did in that moment.

What did he mean about understanding? You would ask yourself later after Lucia had been fed and put down for a nap. You’re laying down in his arms, having tired yourself out from that episode, and just wanting to rest, but this question that rings in your ear, still eats at you making you unable to do so. 

These thoughts are halted as you feel him run a finger down your spine and you on reflex push your chest into his. You also feel as he brings his hips closer to yours, and he hooks your leg around his waist, lightly trailing his hand back up your skirt to rest comfortably on your ass, as you let out a shuddering breath against him, making as little noise as possible, as not to wake your baby.

He’s gentle with you, you just had his baby after all. There was no tearing so you’re healed physically, but you're glad nonetheless as you become reacquainted with his touch again. His fingers lightly trace the edge of your panties, as he nibbles on your bottom lip the way you like. 

You’re reminded of your first time with him. He had been having trouble with one particular scene in Blue Hawaii, and he asked you to come on to the set that night. He had you sit as an extra behind Joan Blackman and he kept stealing glances at you as he sang. As the scene cut there was not a dry eye on set and Elvis was heaped with praise for his best take yet, but what he was more interested in was your reaction to his song. 

He was gentle with you then as well. You confided in him before that you were untouched, and he made sure to make it as tender as possible. Careful, as he learned (as did you) what made you whimper, what made you moan, what made you scream. 

Knowing he’s gone just as long without it as you have, you want to. God, do you want to, but as you grind yourself onto his still clothed length, he makes the mistake of tugging your hair back and suddenly you're paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of dread as he kisses your neck. It takes him a second to realize that this is bad heavy breathing, but he stops the moment he realizes it. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” His worried look only makes you feel more guilty, while you try to even out your breathing. This feeling only made worse as you watch his heartbreak all over again when you tell him why you freaked out when he tugged at your hair like he did.

“I’m always gon’ protect ya’ Satnin,” he whispers to you, mindful of your baby sleeping a few feet away. “Nothin’s ever gon’ hurthcha again.”

You want to believe him. You really do.

It all comes to a head when the day before they’re set to fill the hole in the backyard, you finally find your trunk. Embarrassed at your reaction to being on some stairs, you decided to try to break this habit by confronting your fears. So one day as Lucía slept, you made your way to the attic stairs, but your fears were quickly forgotten as you stared at the previously missing trunk. It’s hard to comprehend its presence as it’s supposed to be on the other side of the country right now. Or… at least that’s what Elvis had told you. 

Whatever the case may be you can’t exactly leave it alone, and you go to inspect it a little closer. It won’t open and a brief brush on the keyhole tells you that it had been locked and the key lodged inside. You also see some dents and dings here and there, but the most noticeable change were some rust colored stains dotting the outside of it. You don’t immediately recognize what they could be, but even as your mind conjures up similar looking stains that are still on the stairs, you can’t really accept what it is.

“Whatcha doin’ up here baby?” a familiar voice behind you says, startling you for a moment. You turn to see your husband, but something is … off. His smile is a little too big, his eyes a little too wide, and if his jaw was clenched any tighter he would have cracked his teeth. It’s all far too unsettling

“I-I was practicing with the stairs, and I found this,” you say, pointing to the trunk.

Somehow he’s able to clench his teeth even tighter as he sees what you found, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, sweetheart. But I,”  he says , pausing to think on his next words. “I-I… Forget it you caught me. I broke the lock on it.” he says with a guilty look on his face. 

“...That’s it?”

“That’s all, baby. I wanted to try to fix it, but I just made it worse and now it won’t open.”

Maybe… maybe he is telling the truth and he just broke the lock… but that wouldn't explain why everything kept in there was taken out or why it was up in the attic, or why it’s covered in blood. Why is he hiding this from you?

“C’mon Satnin, it ain’t nothin’ to get so worked up about? I’ll getcha another one soon,” he says as he wraps an arm around you.

You don’t have time to really question what is going on as you hear Lucía below and you're able to stamp down that curious part of yourself. You make your way back, your feet feeling so unsteady that you clutch onto him with both hands. 

But it still eats at you, the fact that he was able to lie so easily to you, and convince you of that lie when he knew full well it was up here. And why hide it from you? These are all questions you ask yourself as you lay in bed with him, you wonder who exactly you are sharing it with. 

Your blood goes cold as you feel the bed shift right next to you, and you slam your eyes shut, genuinely fearing your husband for the first time. But these feelings of fear dissipate as feel the  quick kiss he gives your forehead before whispering to you, so low you barely hear it, “No one’s ever gon’ hurtcha and get away with it.” You’re paralyzed with fear, and have to remind yourself to breathe lest you give away that you're not actually asleep as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

You open your eyes and stare at the door and the longer you listen the clearer it becomes that he’s not using the bathroom. You also hear as several feet try to quietly make their way up the stairs and then you hear the tell-tale creak of the attic door. You silently make your way to the door and listen against it as you hear them 

You stare off into darkness as the noise gradually lessens until you’re left hearing nothing but the crickets outside and your baby’s steady breathing. You stay there frozen in place, debating internally whether you should follow them. You know in your heart that something is wrong, but you don’t want to confront it. Still after some time you find yourself in the kitchen making your way outside.

As you round the corner, you're hit with the pungent scent of cigar smoke in the air mixed with the unmistakable smell of a campfire, and you see him and all the other men stripped down to their underwear. You crouch down out of sight and you see they are all surrounding the fire pit in the backyard, piles of clothes sit next to each of them, and on occasion one of them will throw something into the fire. All of them seem to be shaking from the cold or from nervousness you can’t quite tell. All of them… except for Elvis. You know he’s prone to getting jittery when he’s nervous, but here, you’ve never seen him so collected. 

“Eric was one a my oldest buddies, and he threw that all away ‘cause he had to be a shithead to the most important person in the world to me.” Those words, cold as a grave, mixed with that vacant look in his eyes, sent shivers down your spine. “There’s a lotta things I can forgive, but what he did sure as hell ain’t one a them.” 

“EP…” Jerry says. “You don’t gotta explain yourself, we-we all woulda done the same thing.”

“I’m goin’ ta hell because that sack a shit, and I look forward to seein’ him again, just so I can beat the crap outta him again.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he says these words, as he seems to rub his knuckle, the ones you remember seeing so badly bruised when you were in the hospital.

It’s unsettling how similar this is to when you met Elvis for the first time, you crouched down, being nosy, him in his boxers trying to hide someone from you. It would be funny if you weren’t one hundred percent sure that your husband wasn’t admitting to murder right now. You don’t stick around for much longer, your curiosity is sated, but you don’t feel any better knowing. 

You don’t know when or how you end up there, but you find yourself on the stairway landing. Once upon a time you thought of Graceland as a safe haven surrounded by shark infested waters, but now you realize that that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re swimming in it, but the biggest shark had decided that you were never to be harmed. 

You want to say that there was some internal debate on that landing, where you contemplated leaving and never looking back. How you wanted to do the morally right thing and report them for all the good it would do. How there was a part of you that stared longingly at the door feeling the desire to leave from the love that has driven him to do this for you.

You would say that… but you would be lying. 

No. You sit there taking in the new reality that the man who has repeatedly physically and emotionally hurt you is gone and it was at the hands of the man you loved the most. You feel something at this moment. A feeling that has eluded you for a while now. You feel… safe. 

It’s an odd feeling to have again. It was something you had always felt with Elvis, but not something you were ever able to verbalize. But now looking back you were always safe with him, when people got too close, when their words hurt, when their stares burned, you could always retreat into him and feel protected from the world. 

There’s a lot of conflicting emotions running through you all at once, pain and sadness at what Eric had done and all the subsequent heartache his actions brought clashing with the almost euphoric relief that is knowing he’s gone for good and it’s all due to how loved you are by a single man. If anybody were to see you right now, they would see a woman with tears streaming down her face while simultaneously giggling like a maniac. You’re only broken from this manic episode when you hear the shrill cry of your baby girl.

You feel lighter as you make your way up the stairs, so light you don’t bother to hold the railing as you usually do and you find your baby right where you left her. Your husband would return later while she’s still suckling at you, and he would make his way to sit behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder, neither of you acknowledge how long he’s been gone. No, in the soft light of the room you both bask in each other watching the little wonder you both made get a little bigger and a little stronger by the moment resting in the bassinet by your bed.

“I just realized something,” you say. You feel him go rigid behind you, but you quickly break the tension by lightly running a finger along the ridge of his nose. “She got this from you.” 

“No, she didn’t,” he says with an amused huff. 

“No, it’s the same shape, just smaller. Look,” you insist. You take one of his hands to show him, careful not to wake her. 

He concedes to your point with a soft, tender kiss to your lips, while his other hand rubs circles on your hip bone. 

You should be disturbed at where his mind is at right now, and you would be if you weren’t just as hungry for him as he was for you. It’s been too long without him, and as he runs a finger along your jaw bringing your faces closer together, you welcome him back home. 

With the straps already falling off of your shoulders, you shiver as he uses a single finger to drag the silky material over your nipples, already begging for his attention that he’s all too willing to give. He languidly laves at them, using the occasional scrape of his teeth to get you to jump, all the while pressing down on your clit through your panties, before removing them.

You're laid on your back and you feel as he spreads the delicate petals of your pussy and even you’re taken aback as to how wet you are right now. You hiss slightly as you feel him probe lightly at your entrance, and he rips his hands back afraid he had hurt you. 

You take his hand in yours and bring his fingers to your mouth, tasting yourself on him, only to bring him closer to you as you whisper against his mouth “not bad, just slower papi.” You think, in a way, you both need this: to be reminded that his hands can do more than hurt. You’re not scared of him or what he’s capable of. 

He rolls so that you're on top of him and you bite your lip at his straining cock within his boxers. You run a single finger up his length and he bites down on his knuckle as you circle around the damp spot already forming. As you spread kisses along his length, he quietly pleads to be inside you, and after all he’s done for you, you won’t deny him.

Finally you sink down on him, and a long, satisfied moan escapes from your mouth and you chance a look at your baby relieved that she’s still asleep. He gives a cheeky grin, biting down on his bottom lip to keep quiet, and you grind down on him in retaliation, though that quickly backfires on you as it feels way too good and you have to concentrate on not doing that again, as you don’t want this to end so soon.

Neither of you are in a hurry at the moment, just choosing to indulge in the connection that circumstances had denied the two of you for so long, sharing lazy kisses and secret jokes in equal measure until you can’t take it anymore. You set the pace for yourself and he is all too willing to oblige and let you chase your peak, as he’s not too far behind. You may very well be in bed with a monster, and yet you’ve never felt safer.

The next day you watch from the Balcony as the men fill the platform with concrete and you get one last look at that trunk, and hope to never see it again. Elvis joins you there, watching and holding you and your daughter, both secure in the knowledge that he’ll always be able to protect you.

You don’t end up thinking about him as much as you thought you would have. In those early days after construction had finished you had feared that the slightest slip up and everybody would know. You felt you could hardly breathe when you looked at it those months, and you were surprised and more than a little disturbed that Elvis had no such reaction to it. 

Though eventually a good memory would come to almost completely scrub out the sour taste that the Gazebo leaves you in the form of Lucía’s baptism. Even over a year later she was still so small compared to other babies her age and the doctors warned you to expect some developmental delays, but you still worried over the fact she still has yet to crawl. Most times she seems content enough to sit where she’s put and play with the toys within her reach and getting someone’s attention to get her what she wants. It’s almost as though she’s aware that Elvis is called The King, making her a princess and so she expects to be treated like one. 

Recently she’s taken to standing up using whatever’s closest, bouncing up and down on her little legs for a bit then sitting back down. You sat there letting Lucía hold your hands and do her thing, while you talked to some of the other women. Your husband on the other side of the platform, surrounded by Lucía’s godfathers (they helped him hide a body after all, this felt like the least the two of you could do to honor them), talking business.

When you felt her let go your immediate instinct was to grab her, but you stop yourself when you see that she’s not only standing on her own but shakily taking her first steps forward. You and the other women go dead silent as you watch her make a slow but sure beeline, her eyes set on her Daddy. You hold your breath so afraid that she’ll fall, but all of your muscles are tensed ready to dive in and catch her if she so much as stumbled.

Elvis was looking away, not noticing what was happening until she finally got to him and wrapped herself around his leg. Seeing her next to him throws you for a loop, as over a year ago, she was so tiny that she fit almost entirely in one of his hands, and now she stands on her own at his knee, and you really do see how much she has grown. Elvis finally turns around and sees her looking up at him, but with no one around to have helped her he doesn’t put it together until he sees your mile wide grin, and it finally dawns on him what just happened. 

You and Elvis would later joke that she, just like him, wouldn’t do something so big without an audience. And for that entire day you didn’t think once about Eric. Your little girl's first steps were over a grave, and you couldn’t be happier about it. 

When she was four, you had explained to Lucía that her father had had it built after she was brought home in celebration that the two of you had pulled through. After that she started calling it hers, and it just stuck, even when your other children were born it was always Lucía’s Gazebo. Birthday’s, barbeques, family dinners, many of them were held underneath that gazebo, and only occasionally would you even spare a thought toward Eric. 

And now as you watch your daughter dance with your husband underneath the gazebo, celebrating her quinceañera you’re glad Elvis did what he did. If that man had had his way you wouldn’t have any of this, and you refuse to feel anything close to guilt or sympathy for him.

Eventually Elvis breaks away from her to stand next to you as she now embarks on the arduous journey of dancing with her many, many padrinos. You welcome him with a tender kiss, and he holds you from behind as the two of you watch your little girl who is now becoming a woman.

“I swear she was this small yesterday,” he says while rubbing your two-year old son’s back as he rests on your shoulder right now. Elvis had been close to tears all day, with the doll ceremony nearly doing it for him as he always loved spoiling her with toys, so the idea that this would be the last one was very bittersweet for him.

For you it was the shoe ceremony that did bring you to tears, as you held her hand as she took a few shaky steps in her new heels, not so much for the first steps she took as a baby, but the painful reminder of all the things you thought you wouldn’t get to have with your little baby that couldn’t leave her box. You refuse to let that man ruin anything special for you again, and over his grave you whisper in the love of your life’s ear how it’s not too late to have another one. His eyes widen at that for a moment before he gives that devastating grin of his that won you over years ago and agrees to later.

You love Elvis Presley. And you were lucky enough to be the woman that he loves back.

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates  @immi547 @thatbanditqueen   @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000​ @isthlsfate​ @mgparker​

[itsnothingofinterest]

You know I'm seeing some people try and say Tomura is becoming like Kotaro after those panels last chapter and now again in 417, like he's become the very thing he hates, and...I'm sorry, but that's some bullshit. They may both be 'bad men' but they are distinct in their personal badness as Overhaul and Redestro, maybe moreso actually.

And the claims towards what their similarities are just seem almost silly to me.

'They're both spreading misery' well sure in a really vague way that could also apply to All Might, Deku, and literally every hero and villain in this series and a lot of the rest of the cast, I guess that's a similarity they share. But I personally feel comparing authoritative domestic abuse and anarchistic super-villainy is a bit of a stretch; it’s why we always considered AFO and Overhaul to be distinct from (and usually worse than) the League proper.

'Tomura's getting Tenko hurt just like Korato by not letting Deku save him' …No? This is a memory guys; Tenko was hurt by Kotaro. It looks to me like Tomura simply doesn't want Deku interfering with his mind (or maybe even attacking his innermost self, as the vestiges have suggested a few times now) but that might just be my read. Because like; Deku came here to figure out his past, here it is being shown to him. Something I find pretty fitting; this whole time Deku's been acting like he's gotta fight so hard to figure out his deal but Tomura's never been shy about sharing his motivations. What more could Deku want seeing this, and is that 'more' not inevitably overstepping and an attempt to alter Tomura's mind? It's not like Tomura has reason to trust this hero's good intentions, so I think it only makes sense for him to let Deku look but not touch. But yeah, If these images are upsetting to see happen; well Deku went digging for them for exactly that reason.

I mean I have even seen it suggested that Tomura is to blame for putting inner Tenko through like this because he's playing his suffering on loop in his mind and...weird Tenko vs Tomura framing aside...what proof is there that a) this is happening all the time in his head rather than this memory replaying because Deku dug for it, and b) if it is on loop; that it is unique for that? Do we have solid reason to believe Deku's memory of being told he can't be a hero isn't on loop in his own heart as well? Maybe every memory is on loop, or maybe this and every other memory is only replayed when it’s remembered; either way we’ve to proof this memory is unique for any of this. It's just such a weird argument I've seen made to suggest Tomura is uniquely wrong for being motivated by his past. In a series that can feel like it loves flashbacks almost as much as Naruto.

Anyway my point is; just because Tomura's a villain who isn't playing ball with Deku's attempts at messing with his core, that doesn't make him his father the domestic abuser. Tenko & Kotaro kind of have their dislike of heroes for their irresponsibility in common (Tomura even famously borrowed his dad's line on that) but that's pretty much it I think, and even then Tomura's hate is broader. I know the typical trope is for the well-intentioned-extremist-type villains to become the very thing they hate; but I just can't see much of that here.

[ghost-shift1]

Nobody cares

A little oneshot of the smol comic I made of the same name

He slowly crawled out of his prior radio tower, debris around him. The only belonging of his he could salvage from the wreckage just so happened to also be the most important one, a framed picture of his mother. He paused as he reached the surface again, leaning against a still somewhat standing wall and breathing heavily, his hand resting on his wound. How had this angel even managed to harm him? It shouldn't have been possible, the... Thing had lacked the discipline, the composure to best him, yet he had landed a hit on him, an almost deadly one at that. Alastor looked over at the framed photo, tracing over the outline of her on the black and white picture. She was one of the very few people he had met that truly deserved heaven or atleast the afterlife it promised. He let out a deep sigh, regretting it immediaetly after as he hissed in pain. He had to get back and properly take care of the wound but he couldn't afford for the others to see him like this, to see him in such a pityfull state.

He carefully walked through the ruins of the hotel. His hotel. But he could hear them further out, talking, it sounded like they were singing. He paused for a mere second, they surely weren't singing right now, after the battle went so wrong. But as he got closer, as fast as his poor state at the moment allowed him, it got clearer that they in fact, were singing. When he reached a larger pile of rubble, seemingly cleared out of the way he could see the outlines of walls. New ones and he saw them, rebuilding the hotel, joyfull and singing with each other. He saw that Sir Pentious was nowhere to be found. Was he..? Maybe he hadn't perished but the snake would be helping along, even if he was injured. He felt a sinking feeling in the depths of his stomache, sure they hadn't exactly been friends, but he had made for good company. Alastor knew he'd miss him, maybe not as much as the others would but the hotel will be noticably more empty than before. When he looked back again a second realisation washed over him, this one much heavier than the last. They had known something bad happened to him, they might have even assumed he had died, so why did they not care?! Did he really mean nothing to them? It felt so unnatural to him when his smile finally faltered, the relaxation of those muscles slightly hurt but he couldn't keep his lips upright like usual. He had protected the hotel on multiple occasions, helped each of them before, he had even engaged with that television nonsense for the commercial and now they gave him no second thought. Like he was just yesterday's newspaper, unimportant. A sour taste spread through his mouth, he had to press his lips against each other with a lot of pressure or else he would've yelled his accusations out loud. He blinked several times as he felt hot tears dwell in his eyes, so many emotions were fighting inside him that he wasn't even surprised at his tears, he last cried back when he was alive. He doubled over in pain, sharp, hot pain that came in quick waves but never faded completely. He felt his blood run through the hand he had pressed against the wound once more. The injury alone couldn't have hurt this much, he knew that. He cursed himself in his mind, he should have never gotten this attached to those misfits, they didn't care about him. How ironic, it should be the other way around. He let himself sink down to the ground again, closing his eyes, allowing the tears to run down his cheeks as he wished for this agonizing pain to end. He could've tried going to the others and ask for assistance but he didn't allow himself that. They'd hurt him enough and he wouldn't let them see him when he was weak, he had to gain their respect again, whatever it would take. He wouldn't do the same mistake ever again.

[cosmicbucky]

with charcoal hands and spoken dreams, we escaped together

part two, a summary: unable to keep your thoughts on anything but each other, the two of you find yourselves cracking open the door to the world of getting to know one another pairings: bucky barnes x female reader word count: 3036

warnings: minor swearing, awkward yet adorable flirting (that's not really flirting), first date but it's not actually a date, fluff, two already smitten idiots

part: two/?

⇠ part one

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The sun filtered through the window, your curtains billowing in the breeze. The familiar sounds of shouting and car horns honking pulled you from your sleep, and you stretched with a loud groan. You stared at the ceiling, hating the fact that the first thing to cross your mind were pastel sapphires accentuated by long dark hair, and pearly whites framed by pretty pink lips. You scolded yourself, quickly throwing the blankets off and standing up, feeling weird and guilty for thinking about a complete stranger in such a way. 

You got ready for the day in your comfiest clothes, making yourself your favourite morning drink and enjoying your go-to breakfast, taking the time to wake up and enjoy the morning before bringing your drink to your desk, sitting down at your computer for another day of work. 

You let your mind wander as you wrote, but the problem with that was this time it always went to the same place - the smell of old pages, the aroma of soil, gorgeous white cats, browns and greens and golds and oh, such pretty blues. This carried on for a few hours, and you barely got half the amount of work done that you usually do, not able to stick to the task at hand as you let yourself enjoy your daydreams a little too much, and for a little too long.

You felt like you were going insane, and you made the perfectly reasonable decision to go back and see the man again - you needed to thank him for letting you take refuge there, anyway. The problem, though, was that you had no idea if he was there again or not - you remember him implying that he owns the place, but did that mean he was always there? You had no idea, but being the completely sane and normal person you are, you searched up the store and decided to call, seeing if maybe he would answer. 

The line rang out, and you felt yourself regretting the decision almost immediately. By the time you realized you had no idea what you would even say, and that it would be a good idea to just hang up, a voice was heard. 

"This is James from The Planted Pages, how can I help you?" 

Silk and whiskey, rough and tender. James. 

You knew it was him immediately, and yes, you hated that you did, but how could anyone forget a voice like that? Your heart hammered in your chest and your brain lost track of all the vocabulary you used to know - you panicked. 

"Oh. Hi, uh - James," you forced yourself to say, silently loving the feeling of his name rolling off your tongue. "I'm so sorry, I- I called the wrong number. Have a nice day!" you finished lamely, quickly hanging up and groaning, holding your head in your hands. You stayed there for a few moments, collecting yourself and calming your nerves before getting up to execute your plan. 

Though you had no way to know, James was standing behind the counter of his shop, the phone still against his ear. 

He had been driving himself crazy all morning. He hoped to catch a glimpse of you in all the passersby whenever he looked out the window. Every time the door opened, he hoped it was you he saw standing there when he looked up to greet whoever it was. 

He shook the thoughts away when they would surface - he needed to accept that he didn't know you. That you were a stranger, a one time reprieve from his mundane life. He had no right to let you cross his mind so often; though you did. You crossed his mind so much he was starting to piss himself off, and he couldn't have been more thankful when the phone rang, giving him a distraction. 

He happily made his way to the counter, glancing down at the caller ID (he had no way to know it was your name staring back at him) before quickly answering with his standard greeting of "This is James from The Planted Pages, how can I help you?”

"Oh. Hi, uh - James," you had replied, causing him to stand up straighter, feeling a sense of recognition when he heard your voice. No, it couldn't be. "I'm so sorry, I- I called the wrong number. Have a nice day!"

Oh, but it was. The softness, the shyness, the underlying awkwardness. It had to be you. 

He smiled to himself, chuckling softly as he hung up the phone. He felt satisfied, in a strange way. Hearing your voice again let him know he didn't just imagine you, that it wasn't some vivid and twisted dream he had last night - after all, it wouldn't have been the first time he fell asleep in the shop after closing, waking up to Alpine purring and meowing in his ear. 

He let his mind wander once more with fleeting thoughts of you and why you called - if it really was you - as he returned to his work; re-alphabetizing books, tending to the plants, dusting the shelves, and his most important task of the day - playing with Alpine. He was too caught up in dangling the toy high above her to hear the door open, too amused to notice the approaching footsteps. 

"Um, hi," a soft voice cut through the air, causing him to whip his head up, tucking his hair behind his ear as he came face to face with - you. 

"Hi," he replied softly, a grin forming on his lips as drank you in. He didn't understand why he felt so relieved to see you. Maybe it was because this meant he wasn't crazy, and this was further proof that you really were real. Maybe it was because the day was slow, and he was happy to see even the most vaguely familiar face. Or, maybe because it was you, and he had been hoping to see you again the second you left his shop. 

You, on the other hand, knew exactly why you were relieved to see him again - you just wouldn't admit it to yourself. He captivated you. He was beautiful, a seemingly perfect mix of open and mysterious, a magnetizing being that pulled you in without warning like a current on a sunny beach. You knew exactly why you wanted to come back today, but the reason would never leave the vault tucked away in your mind - you didn't know him, and you needed to be careful. This you knew, this you told yourself. The only problem was that you never fucking listen.

You stood there before him for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you thought over your words, before finally breaking the silence. "I just… wanted to thank you again. You know, for last night. I know it wasn’t a crazy big deal, but you were nice, and I-... well, I really appreciate it." 

You gave him a small, lopsided smile as you stood there uncomfortably, realizing it may have been a dumb idea to come back here. 

"You really didn't need to do this, you know," he told you gently, a smile still on his lips. “Come back here, I mean. Just for that.”

"No, I know. I just… wanted to," you replied with a shy smile, shrugging your shoulders a little. 

He chuckled, making music for your ears. "Well, again, you’re welcome. It was a nice change of pace compared to how I usually close up shop."

A laugh slipped past your lips, and he perked up at the sound, taking an unintentional step forward as though he was literally being pulled in by you. 

"Well.. glad I could provide that, then," you told him, an amused smile dancing on your lips.

He smiled at you, a question lingering on his tongue as curiosity danced in his eyes. Though as he opened his mouth to speak, the courage left him and he let out a breathy chuckle, looking down at the cat toy still in his hands - and you noticed for the first time one of them was a prosthetic, the black and gold a stark contrast to the pink flirt pole it held within its grasp. 

“I’m James, by the way,” he said softly, looking back at you with a sheepish smile. 

The words ‘I know’ were so close to tumbling out of your mouth you had to laugh quietly to keep them in, giving him a smile and your name in return. 

His smile grew a little, his eyes lighting up as if the sun was shining down on the sea as he realized it was you that called - the words ‘I know’ dancing around in his mind, too. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he decided to say instead, though his amusement was not lost on you.

Chuckling nervously, you venture a guess as to why: “You have caller ID, don’t you?”

A hearty laugh escaped him as he nodded, a grin splitting across his face as he spoke a playful “I thought you called the wrong number.”

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, completely mortified. “I’m so sorry, that was my super not subtle way of finding out if you were here or not.” 

Upon seeing the humoured look on his face and the arch of his eyebrow at your words, you widened your eyes and carried on rambling: “No! I just meant - well I wanted to thank you, right? So I had to make sure you were actually here so I could do that, so I called - as you know, and then-”

“Do you like coffee?” he asked unexpectedly, cutting you off. He had to cut you off because you were too freaking adorable in the way you jabbered, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed and he was teetering so close to the edge already that he was afraid he’d topple completely head first if he didn’t stop you. 

“What?” you questioned after a brief pause, realizing what he asked. 

“Do you like coffee?” he repeated, a faint smile on his face as he took in your dazed expression.

“Uh, yeah… yeah, I like coffee,” you told him with a chuckle, both amused and confused.

“Any chance you feel like grabbing one?” he asked, the silent invitation louder than ever.

You smiled with a titter, nodding your head. “Yeah, I do. There’s a really great place just up the street - this can be my thank you.”

He shook his head, entertained by your persistence to show him thanks for something he thought to be a simple act. If anything, he felt as though he should be thanking the universe for bringing you to him. 

“Alright, alright. It’s a deal,” he chortled, finally acceding. 

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting by the window of your favourite coffee shop, Metal and Moss, sharing comfortable silences and embarrassing tidbits. Neither of you had any clue as to why you felt so comfortable sharing these things with each other, but neither of you wanted to dwell on it. 

"So," he spoke, breaking the momentary lapse in conversation as the two you silently mused over the other, stealing glances when the other looked away. "You said you were a poet?" 

You smiled, shaking your head as you recalled saying this last night. "I said kind of a poet," you corrected playfully. 

"Oh, please forgive me," he joked, holding a hand to his heart. "So, you said you were kind of a poet?" 

You giggled, smiling in satisfaction. "I'm a writer. I've been trying to delve into different styles, so I took a new piece to the open mic last night to test it out, see how I felt about it."

"How did it go?" he inquired, genuinely curious about the experience. 

Grimacing slightly, you shrugged. "It… well, it seemed to be well received, but I'm still not sure about it." 

He nodded thoughtfully, taking in your response. "Not comfortable with it?" 

"Not at all," you sighed, laughing a little. "I think that's a good thing, though. It's always good to step out of your comfort zone, right?" 

He hummed in response, a knowing smirk on his lips. This was something out of both your comfort zones, yet at the same time, the two of you were perfectly comfortable with each other's company. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "You're most definitely correct." 

"What about you?" you questioned, raising your eyebrows curiously. "You said you're not an artist, but from what I could see those pieces of yours looked rather impressive." 

A nervous laugh left him as heat flooded his cheeks; he tried to hide it by taking a drink from his coffee mug, but it did not go unnoticed by you. You had to force yourself to look away, not able to believe how pretty this man before you was. 

"It's just… something I do for fun," he muttered sheepishly. 

"You didn't go to school for it or anything?" you questioned curiously.

He shook his head, shifting in his seat. "No, I-... I did, actually. The world had other plans for me, though." 

Though it was subtle, you saw the way his eyes fleeted down towards his left hand before meeting yours again, heard how the next breath he took was a little deeper and shakier than his last. 

"Story for another time?" you offered lightly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

Giving you a grateful smile, he nodded slightly. "Another time."

"Before we left, you mentioned you were gonna tell Steve to watch the shop while you were gone. Do you guys run the place together?" you asked, trying to change the topic. 

"No, not at all," he said with a laugh. "Well, actually… I guess we kind of do - but not officially. He doesn't work there or anything, he's just around a lot." 

Giving him a quizzical look, you nodded slowly. "Did he… come with the shop like Alpine did?" you had asked, attempting to make a joke of it while still trying to get information.

Snorting in response and almost choking on his coffee, he broke into a fit of laughter so jovial that you couldn't help but laugh along with him for a minute.

"Fuck, that was good," he admitted, still laughing softly. "Him and I have been friends since we were kids, so he helps out a lot." 

"Oh, that's really nice, actually. You're both from around here?" you replied, suddenly itching to know more about him. 

"Brooklyn," he supplied. "We met in school - grade 3, I think. Most annoying punk you'll ever meet."

The undertone of affection in his words made you smile, and a comfortable silence fell between you once more. 

You both had so much more you wanted to ask, needed to know, but neither of you wanted to pry too much right off the bat like this. He did, however, return the question of where you were from, allowing you to happily tell him the story of where you grew up. He listened to you wholly, his attention never once straying - how could it? How could something be more captivating than the sparkle in your eyes as you told him about your hometown, or more adorable than the smile on your face as you spoke of family and friends? He realized with a start that he could listen to you talk for hours; and though you were a normally reserved person, you realized you couldn't seem to shut up around him. Neither of you cared about these revelations though, and you eagerly rambled on while he contentedly listened, adding in a question or story of his own from time to time.

The light began to shift outside the window, ever changing between casting the two of you in candescence and silhouettes as the sun drifted out of sight, afternoon turning into evening. Neither of you noticed the time passing by - or, maybe you did and just didn’t care. It was hard to care about anything else besides pulling a laugh from the lips of the man across from you, relishing in the way it made his eyes crinkle and butterflies erupt in your gut. It was hard for him to think about anything else besides the way your cheeks blossomed with colour every time he threw you a cheesy line, or the soft giggles you tried to stifle.

It was with great difficulty that you managed to say the words: “We should probably get back to our work, now.”

Though a laugh accompanied your statement, the heaviness of it was still felt. It was strange, this sense of ease and familiarity you two felt with each other; but it was nice. It was fun. It was exciting.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed with a small sigh. “Well, thank you for the ‘thank you’ coffee,” he added with a chuckle. 

 A soft giggle left you as you smiled softly. “My pleasure, James.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he informed you amiably. “All my friends do.”

“Alright then. My pleasure, Bucky,” you said with a nod, reiterating your previous statement to match his declaration. 

He grinned in satisfaction, and it took everything in you to not beam in response to how stupidly adorable he looked. 

“You know, as great as this was, I’m afraid we may have a problem on our hands,” he declared breezily, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“Really? What would that be?” you asked curiously, mirroring his body language. 

“I think we may just find ourselves in a cycle. ‘Cause I’m gonna have to thank you this coffee now,” he told you with a smile. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

You did your best to not pay attention to the fluttering in your stomach as you thought about it, tried to ignore the pounding of your heart. Instead, you succumbed to the smile that was fighting its way across your lips and looked at him with rosy cheeks - and he prayed to anyone who would listen that you wouldn’t notice how difficult it suddenly was for him to breathe when he saw your expression. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’ll let you.”

[limon-rat]

"I did come back, but no one was there. "It wasn't until I heard about you saving the world from the rock apocalypse that I realized you were even still alive."

I thought about this too hard and now y'all get a one shot <3 (cw: mild panic, implied death one of which didn't actually happen but he doesn't need to know that yet)

~~~~~~~~

He just wanted to find them.

He wasn’t even sure what started it. Maybe he was tired of avoiding it? Maybe he just got curious. He wasn’t entirely sure.

But one day, just a few years after John Dory had finally gotten into a rhythm, he decided to go back for his brothers. He wasn’t sure where the others had gone off to, but he knew Branch should still be home. He could put some faith in Floyd and hope he was there too but if anyone would be home, it’d be Branch.

At least he hoped so…

The dread began when he got outside of town.

He had to sneak into Bergen Town using long-abandoned tunnels. They lead out the south end of town, the same tunnels he’d used when he’d left. Ironic, that he was using them now to go back. But something was wrong. He couldn’t really tell, but the tunnel seemed… disturbed. Or maybe used? The dust wasn’t as thick as it should be after three years, but there weren’t any footprints. It was just enough to put him off.

But he’d made up his mind and he didn’t really feel like walking back yet. So into the tunnel he went.

Only when he got out of the tunnel did he realize something was really wrong.

The Tree was dark.

Usually, the Troll Tree was glowing with light from the pods, casting a soft, multi-color glow on the surrounding town buildings. But it was completely dark now, not a single pod lit.

He didn’t know why he didn’t turn back right then and there. Everything was wrong, nothing was how he remembered. Far too dark, far too quiet. It didn’t even look like his old home, just some dying tree.

And yet, instead of turning tail, he began his search, careful to be quiet. The Bergens should be asleep but he’s learned it’s better to be safe than sorry. He walked slowly, careful to take in every detail he could in the dark. Torn and uprooted sprouts, massive holes in the ground, scars that hadn’t healed, deep gouges in the tree… Violence. A lot of violence.

The tree stayed eerily quiet, and the more he looked, the more he felt unnerved. It was quiet but also dull. The colors from the plants and leaves seemed drained. As if the trolls just existing there had brought color to the foliage.

…They probably had actually.

But now that he’d acknowledged it, that everything was quiet and dull and everything the trolls weren’t, that dread started to change into something more venomous.

He hated it.

If the plants were dead and the pods weren’t lit that meant the trolls were gone  which meant-

No, they’re here. They have to be.

His pace picked up as he neared the Tree’s trunk, quickly whipping his hair to get him up high. As he moved, his body went into auto pilot, adjusting to paths and branches that he didn’t even recognize now like second nature. By the time he was getting to the western edge of the canopy, he was in a dead sprint.

Please be here.

Finally, he found his old home. His grandma Rosiepuff’s pod. It was still how he’d left it, save for the newly grown vines creeping up the sides. It looked… abandoned.

They’re here. He reassured himself again, even the voice in his head filled with doubt.

The door opened the moment he approached, unfurling just as it had done before, as if it were still filled with life. He stepped inside and he already knew everything was wrong.

“Branch?” He called quietly. Something cracked under his foot and whipping his head to look down, he found a picture frame. Why was it on the ground? It was supposed to be hung by the record player. This one was a picture of him and his brothers. Branch had just joined the band, right before the tour. They were all in their stupid puffy jackets and Branch was drowning in his, a massive grin on his face.

It made John’s heart hurt.

Looking back up, he tried again, “Branch? Grandma? Where are you guys?”

No answer. The pod remained completely silent. It was never quiet.

"Branch!? Grandma!?" John tried again, tail thrashing behind him, feeling a disgusting thing begin to coil around his chest. Where were they? They can't be- they aren't gone, are they? No no, they couldn't be. They're fine, they're just... they…

Where did they go?

Where is his baby brother?

"Branch!" John tried once more, trying the bedrooms now. They had to be here. Grandma couldn't leave not without Branch-

What if she's gone?

No, no she's not gone. She wouldn't. She'd made it this far, she wouldn't just-

Since when did she get a say in this?

Reaching the bedrooms, John was panting hard enough his throat burned and he was sure his ribs were trying to suffocate him but he had to find them-

The beds were made. The room was in the same shape as the outside -covered in dust and strangled by vines- but the beds were made. All of them but Branch’s, but even then it looked… wrong. Not like Branch had slept in it, like it’d been made and someone had just been laying on it, ruffling the blankets slightly. It wasn’t used, just touched.

But Branch wasn’t here.

And the same went for the kitchen. Dusty, littered with dry leaves and massive vines. There were even utensils out and Grandma didn’t just leave stuff out. Especially not on the stove, or even the table for fucks sake.

Outback was the same story. The door unfurled to let him out, resting gently against the branch. It looked just as decrepit as the rest of the tree, the laundry still on the laundry still on the line -she would never leave laundry still on the line- swaying in dry wind.

He searched the entire pod top to bottom and he never found them. They were gone. Gone. Along with everyone else. The entire tree was empty and it was torn apart and something bad happened.

What if-

What if the Bergens got tired of only one day a year.

What if they ate everyone-

He had to leave.

But everything was still here. He couldn’t leave it all here just to waste away…

He had space in his bag, right?

He could at least bring the last of his baby brother with him.

[losfacedevil]

Guitar Lessons // JTK

a/n~ I don’t typically do dad Jake stuff, hell I don’t typically do dad content for any of them (though I’m guilty of indulging), but I’ve been thinking of this for far too long to not bring it to life even if it’s just for the self indulgence of myself and @vanfleeter​ I blame her!

You woke with a start, shooting up in bed as your eyes landed on the beside clock. Breathe catching in your throat as you realized it was way past the time your son usually woke from his nap and strained your ears trying to hear if he was talking to himself in his crib. 

You threw your legs over the side of the bed and pushed to a standing position, quickly making a beeline for the nursery. Stepping foot into the room you noticed the crib empty, mind ablaze with everything that could have gone wrong — your inner true crime junkie coming out — before you heard the soft crackle of the baby monitor. 

“Mamas still sleeping buddy, it’s just us for now.” 

A sigh of relief slipped past your lips as you realized Jake had returned home early and began to tend to your son leaving you to get some much needed rest. You leaned up against the side of the crib, letting your heart rate slow and your breathing normalize. 

“That’s daddy’s bud, you wanna see?” 

A soft smile spread across your face as you leaned over the side of the crib and plucked the now empty bottle out of it before reaching over and turning off the monitor. Slipping out of the nursery you made your way down the hallway quietly as to not startle the pair. 

Jake sat in his favorite arm chair with your son perched on his knee. He smiled fondly at your little boy as his little fingers plucked gently at the strings of Jakes acoustic guitar  that sat across their laps. He nodded his head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your little boys head before situating the guitar the way it should be. Reaching over to the table beside him he blindly snatched up the guitar pick that lay there. 

“Look, like this bud.” Jake cooed, balancing the guitar against his leg as he softly placed the guitar pick in your sons hand, holding his little fingers against the pick as he brought his arm over the guitar. Jake giggled as he plucked the very top string of the guitar with the pick earning him giggles from the little boy. 

“Looks like you’re still a little too small buddy, maybe when you’re bigger you’ll be able to play just like daddy, huh?” Jake cooed, laying the guitar back across his lap as the baby went back to gently plucking at the strings. 

You leaned up against the door frame, watching as Jake held his fingers against the frets, changing the sound of the string every time the baby plucked it. The sound of you clearing your throat caught Jake’s attention and he turned to face you. 

“He’s a natural.” Jake mumbled, his eyes focused on the way his son plucked the strings. 

“Sure is, just like his daddy.” You pushed off the door frame, slowly making your way over to the boys as Jake placed the guitar back down on the floor. The baby whined, making grabby hands at the instrument that was now just out of reach. 

“You think he might be interested in it when he gets older? I wasn’t much older than him when I really started to show interest in it according to mom.” You took a moment to ponder his question, slowly nodding your head as you bent down to scoop up your son. 

“He’s surrounded by music, if not guitar he’ll take after an uncle.” You chuckled, ruffling Jake’s hair as you made your way into the kitchen. 

“Hey! He better take after me!” Jake called, standing and placing his guitar back on the wall mount before following behind you.