#one thorough wash later and everything was pink

[jae-in-a-trenchcoat]

The topic of daniel kon with pink hair came up in @neunhofferart's livestream and so I made this. PRANK GONE WRONG

[silkendandelion]

Million Dollar Baby (completed), A One Piece fanfiction

Sir Crocodile x OC (male) Words: 40.8k Genre: Comedy, drama, smut, fluff

Summary: The morning after, a deal is struck. Meanwhile, Doflamingo continues to scheme.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for mature themes. Rating changes published per chapter.

Chapter 4

The next morning, River awoke with a start, unused to waking without the chirp of his alarm clock and with the sun streaming through the curtains in mid-morning softness. With a quick inventory of his surroundings: the plush, expensive duvet wrapped around his naked body, the soreness in his shoulders and hips, memories washed back over him of the night previous, punctuated by a shiver.

He paled, finding his wig hanging on the coat hanger that he had meant for his suit. An embarrassed heat rose to his cheeks at the sight of one of his rules broken. Luckily, the weakest one, for his clients to not see anything more than the playing-pretend version of himself he allowed to be sold. Even completely bare for their pleasure, as long as his hair was covered he could walk out into public without care.

But standing before this man, a stranger, covered down to the ankles in the hotel’s fluffy, white robe with his bedhead around his ears? He was naked.

“Good morning,” Crocodile began, setting aside his newspaper.

“Morning, uh—sorry if I look a bit—,” River stammered as he vaguely gestured to his head.

“As much as the blonde suits you, forgive me if I’m being forward to say this is better.” He busied his hands with pouring coffee and rearranging the cream and sugar within River’s reach.

“I think we’re a little passed forward.”

“I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“You were certainly thorough,” River chuckled into his cup, and Crocodile took a long pull off his cigar.

“Mind if I smoke too?”

He shook his head. River left the table to fetch his cigarettes from his suit, and the obnoxiously red envelope slipped between his sleepy fingers, down to the plush carpet. As quick as he snatched it up, stuffing it back into his breast pocket, the subtle whip of Crocodile’s head to avert his eyes told him he had already seen too much.

“I didn’t know what you liked to eat for breakfast so I got a little of everything.”

“I was never much of a breakfast person,” River said as he returned to his seat, patting the pack on his palm to free a single cigarette. “But I don’t like wasting food so, thank you.”

“Of course,” Crocodile blew smoke over the table, his newspaper now forgotten beside his orange juice. “On the subject of your payment—”

“It’s 500 dollars for the night. Don’t think I’ll make a deduction because you’ve been so generous.”

The snip of his tone, suddenly standoffish from behind his cigarette while he picked absently at his pancakes, laid a quiet over the breakfast table. He scolded himself after the words had already left his mouth, that his host tried to be gracious, on top of everything.

Reaching beyond the newspaper, Crocodile picked up his money clip. “Of course… And I do apologize that we got distracted last night, I had assumed you would expect payment before we began.”

“I should have,” River agreed, gentler. “But we were—”

He paused, eyes faraway as he studied the syrup decanter, hopefully to avoid using any flowery words, ones he would surely write down in his journal later but couldn’t possibly be said to Crocodile’s face.

“Having such a good time, I didn’t want to ruin it with talk of money. And don’t worry, I was fully prepared to take my fee in crystal ash trays and Egyptian cotton bed-sheets if you ran out on me.”

“A resourceful man.” Crocodile extended his hand with the crisp, fresh bills folded between his first two fingers. “Do you accept tips?”

River pinched and rolled the bills to fit inside his cigarettes. “Other people might. I don’t. It feels like a debt, no matter how much they insist it’s a gift.”

“I don’t like owing people anything either.” He set his cigar aside, and River distantly wondered if the pink heating up his neck was embarrassment.

Maybe he’s used to spoiling them, his lovers�� But it won’t be me.

He stood, gesturing with one hand that the haphazardly shredded mess of his pancakes was somehow eaten. “Do you mind if I borrow your bath before I go? Or do you have plans to do business soon, Mr. Crocodile?”

“If you don’t mind me taking up the mirror while I get ready myself.”

His chuckle surprised them both, boyish and bright as he stubbed out his finished cigarette. “Sure. Looking is free all day long.”

The half-hearted click of Crocodile’s tongue didn’t sting one bit, not when they were both smiling.

After taking what was much too long to choose between the pink bubble bath or the green, the smell of summer melon took over the bathroom, drifting up from thick bubbles that swallowed River’s hand when he leaned down to test the water.

Before he disrobed again, he took a moment to admire Crocodile standing in the mirror, dressed without his jacket and using his gloved prosthetic to hold the tie for his other to do the work.

“Can I do that for you?” He asked, his shorter body slipping easily between him and the vanity without blocking his view.

Crocodile hummed his permission. He didn’t wear a tie often, preferring his cravats and scarves over all else, but if ties attracted handsome men to make and unmake them, he could be persuaded to make the change.

“Maybe it’s too personal. You don’t have to answer but,” River broke the silence, and Crocodile’s attention shifted back to his eyes, away from the beauty marks along his cheek and neck. “How did that happen? Your hand.”

“… My business wasn’t always legitimate.”

“And now you’re straight? Your business, I mean.” He bit his lip, holding back a chortle when Crocodile tapped his nose with the prosthetic.

“A comedian, as always. And yes, everything I do now is completely within the boundaries of the law.”

River’s gentle press of a palm to his chest prompted him to take a step back, and then the robe was slipping free to pool around his ankles. Truly, an unfair play, to fondle his necktie one moment and then slip away the next, out of his reach and down into fragrant water.

“What do you do now?” His voice broke Crocodile from the snag of his thoughts on his carved back, dripping wet, with a tiny patch of bubbles stuck to the birthmark on his scapula.

“I purchase businesses. Ones close to failure.”

River sat straighter, piqued as he finger-combed his hair back from his forehead. “You help them?”

“I dissolve them. They are already dying, I make sure their parts are redistributed and sold appropriately, rather than liquidation by the state which benefits no one.”

“How noble.” He rolled his eyes, ducking down beneath the water to call the conversation done. When he resurfaced, Crocodile was gone. The faraway sound of a phone call reminded him he was never so late getting home.

‘It’s about time you called me back. You never sleep so late, you know it’s almost noon?’ Came Doflamingo’s voice over the line.

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was ignoring you.”

‘You cruel, wicked thing.’

“I’m hanging up—”

‘Just—hold on for a second. I called to tell you that Cobra confirmed your meeting.’

“Thank you for telling me. I’m hanging up now.”

‘Crocodile.’

He paused, struck frozen by the pink man’s serious tone, the one he associated with the use of his full name—and by unprecedented amounts of cash.

‘Cobra isn’t a man like you or I, he’s proud of his estate and his so-called “legacy”.’ Palpable distaste seeped into the receiver. ‘He won’t take kindly to your proposal, especially if you show up alone, all business and your usual scowling.’

“I’m not taking you, if that’s what your offering.”

‘Take a date, keep it casual. I know plenty of good women that I can have ready by tonight.’

“No, you don’t.” He chanced a look back to the bathtub, where River was nodding off in the warm water.

“Besides, I have a date.”

‘Oh? Ohh, I see. That’s why you were so eager to get out of here yesterday. Your newest play thing called to say they were in heat, so you raced off to—’

He slammed the line closed. Off to rouse the beauty, he gently brushed his bangs back with a finger, pleased when his lashes fluttered open to let their eyes meet.

“It’s not safe to sleep in the bath,” he said quietly from where he sat on the edge.

“Didn’t meant to. Sorry.” Wet hands scrubbed at his eyes.

“I have a business proposition for you.”

Once so sleepy, those eyes perked open, brow raised to not even attempt to hide how absurd he found the idea. “I am not a failing business, sir, and I can charge for being ruined actually—”

“You—,” Crocodile couldn’t stop his startled cough of a laugh. “I’m serious. I’ll be in town until Sunday, I’d like to pay you to accompany me. Whenever, wherever I ask.”

“I don’t do public play.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. As my temporary employee, I would treat you with the respect you earn by being obedient, honest, and efficient.”

“Your seduction technique is unmatched, you know.” Where River had hoped it would make him laugh again, he only smirked. Now that was dangerous. When a man rose to his challenge it made him want to take off his clothes and keep him around for breakfast in the morning.

But only one of those was allowed.

“It’ll be expensive, even for you.”

“500 dollars a night, are your days the same rate?”

His teeth worried the nail on his left thumb, back to grinning in an instant. “I am just as much fun in the daylight. Maybe more.”

“For six days, 6,000 dollars. I will pay cash in advance this time.”

Crocodile rose to get his jacket, all simper and golden cuff-links as he grabbed his briefcase. Behind him, he heard a rousing splash that couldn’t be anything but River scrambling to throw on a robe and follow him to the door.

“Do I need anything to get started? A specific outfit you like?”

“That’s your first assignment.” His smirk widened around his cigar, opening his palm to offer a roll of cash. “Buy a suit. Nothing too flashy, absolutely no animal print.”

“Meant to entice just you or the entire room?”

“Surprise me. Impress me.” He held up a silencing finger. “While keeping in mind we are meeting with a potential client tonight. An old fashioned one who will not allow himself to sign just by being… enticed.”

River’s stomach twisted, not just from his cigarette on an empty stomach, and he recalled his earlier words, the ease of which he spoke about the scavenging of entities often built on the sweat and tears of people like himself.

“I don’t like your business practices, you know. I’m only willing to be a playmate, or a fancy scarf on your arm.”

“That’s why it has to be you. Why would I want to call some pretty thing who’s going to lie to me all night, when I can use the money I worked hard for to purchase the company of someone who actually uses the space in their skull for more than letting birds nest?”

It sounded almost romantic, too sweet to be coming from him, too earnest for their circumstances, for him standing dripping wet and sore from good sex while he accepted another handful of cash.

“Hey now,” he managed to grin, hoping it reached his eyes. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

“The only thing on my mind is the reason I came out here.”

“Good,” said River. “That makes two of us.”

~*~

By the grace of an unusually quiet day for intercity commerce, Crocodile arrived to his associate’s home office before he had begun to pluck out his own feathers, and after the most annoying of his associate’s associates (if they could be called anything other than depraved) had taken their leave to their own duties.

“You’re lucky I like you so much, to put up with the way you come and go as you please.” Doflamingo lounged in a pink suit with a flagrantly low gorge, the same color scientists believed drove inmates to madness. He sipped a cocktail despite his flippant words—and the clock behind him that read just passed 2 o’clock.

“Does your own behavior displease you so much?” Crocodile set his briefcase on the glass table.

“Oh, don’t pretend to care if you annoy me now.”

His wingtip derby shoe, an obnoxious, white and black thing, bounced nervously where it rested on his knee.

“Cobra’s on the inside track for a 350-million dollar contract with the Navy to build their new warships.”

Across the table, Crocodile stopped looking through his documents.

“You’d have known that two hours ago if you had bothered to show up to our meeting.”

“I’m only here long enough to secure Nefertari Cobra’s contract, and then I’m returning to my own city. I have no desire to mingle with your sharks for any longer than absolutely necessary.”

The slam of Doflamingo’s hand on the table startled them both, rattling the ice in his drink and reverberating off the walls of the office, dimly lit from a projection shown in the meeting Crocodile had missed. Their eyes met, and even behind Doflamingo’s sunglasses, his one good eye struggled to break free.

He might be a king here, a spoiled child with a crown in this sunny, coastal city, but even far away from home, alone and vulnerable—Crocodile would not bow. He would never flinch, and he would not tolerate any tantrums in his presence. Every word that came from his lips was slow, measured, enunciated with purpose as he removed his cigar to lay it gently in the ash tray.

“Cobra will not build warships. While your associates were looking for blood in the water, I was doing my own research.” Crocodile tossed over a file folder, what he had been looking for when he was so blatantly provoked.

“His daughter graduates from her university this coming spring. He will not risk leaving her with a military contract, and she is not the type to insist.”

Inside the folder, Doflamingo produced a transcript of the girl’s courses, her smiling picture from her student ID, and a copy of the universities newspaper where the front page boasted the young woman in working overalls, under an optimistic headline: “Student government spends spring vacation making repairs at local soup kitchen”.

“You… devious,” Doflamingo gaped at him. Quickly, his surprise turned to giddy, sadistic delight. “I knew I made the right call bringing you down here.”

Crocodile replaced his cigar. “We proceed with my meeting tonight.”

“Miss Vivi thinks her daddy will let her inherit his company.”

“He would, make no mistake. And he’d let her turn it into some philanthropic pony show. Happily.”

“Little girls should learn they can’t bet a billion dollar company on their ideals.” He flashed the sparkling head shot of the young woman, and Crocodile wondered if he was going to pocket the photograph before he returned it to the folder.

“On that, we agree.”

“Hey,” said Doflamingo as he pushed the paperwork to the far corner of the table. “Who’s your date, anyway? It’s who you were with this morning, isn’t it?”

“Like I would tell you. Nobody you know.”

“I look forward to meeting them.”

His answer was a flick of his gaze back to the overly pink man, his last warning before they transitioned to less than gentlemanly conversation. He hated that it only made Doflamingo begin to vibrate with anticipation.

“That’s not going to happen either.”

Chapter 5

[thusspoketrish]

An Elegy to Bad Dreams

This was written with love for the prompt Saviour Complex over @drarrymicrofic. I'm a HUGE Phoebe Bridgers fan. I appreciate anyone who takes the time out to read this fic (2.6K words). Thank you to @opaleopioid for the very thorough beta! Please mind the tags. TW for alcoholism, brief break up, mean voicemail messages, very brief mentions of vomiting, eventual rehab.

The day after Harry abruptly disappears from Draco’s bed, the morning light creeping into the bedroom like a looming bad omen, Draco decides to toss Harry’s belongings into a rubbish bag. All of it, even his socks.

“I want everything of his out of here,” says Draco, spirals of cigarette smoke escaping his chapped, pale pink lips as he holds his mobile against his ear. Draco empties Harry’s precious bottles, a sick satisfaction overcoming him as he watches the clear liquid swirl down the drain of his kitchen sink, an even sicker pleasure when he tosses the bottles into the bag that contains most of Harry’s trainers. He stares out the bay window of his flat that overlooks the front garden, the rubbish bins, and the winding road where three black rubbish bags now sit on the pavement.

Pansy’s teeny voice is on the other end.

“Good riddance,” responds Pansy with relief, as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. Draco blows out more smoke. He bites his lower lip as he blinks back tears, his gaze focused outside the window, on all of Harry’s life with Draco in three sagging bags. For one terrifying moment, he believes he’s made an enormous mistake.

Draco’s voice cracks, “Pansy—”

“Good riddance,” is Pansy’s firm affirmation of the day.

Draco nods, swallowing down his regret as he tries to collect the scattered pieces of himself strewn across the room. These Muggle gadgets are a gift. Draco might be falling apart, but at least Pansy doesn’t have to both hear and see it.

Such small mercies.

---

Later that day, after waking from a sweaty, feverish nap, Draco’s landlord calls him to complain about the shattered glass bottles littered across the front garden— “It’s dangerous. Any innocent person walking by could get hurt from this sort of recklessness!”

Draco apologises, and cleans the mess Harry left behind the Muggle way. He slices his finger open in the process, the concrete and grass greedily eating up his blood. Draco watches this with a morbid curiosity, a peculiar sense of familiarity washing over him. It’s a good thing that all three of Harry’s bags are gone, Harry was eating away—those horrid bags were an eyesore.

---

Harry’s voice is a thin, fraught string of slurry sounds that barely form words. But Draco’s so used to his manner of speech now that he only plays the voicemail once.

“D’you…d’you remember, when I saved you from the fire? I do. I should’ve let you burn.”

Once is definitely enough.

---

Draco holds Harry’s pillow to his chest before lifting it to his face with the intention to scream into it, but he recoils immediately after catching a whiff. It used to smell like sandalwood and jasmine from Harry’s shampoo and aftershave. Like sex and sweat. Like all things good, and strength, and love eternal. Like all of Draco’s favourite things about Harry. Now, the pillow smells like the sharp gut-wrenching scent of diluted ethanol. Like vomit and rotten apples. Like anger, and weakness, and misery. These are now a few of Harry’s favourite things. Draco drops the pillow to the floor.

When Draco checks his voicemail, Harry’s sobbing this time.

A burst of shame explodes in the middle of Draco’s chest and overwhelms him as he nearly drops his phone, replaying the message over, and over, and over.

“I just can’t live without it—I mean, you. You! I can’t live without you. I’m sorry. Please, please help me. I can’t do this without you. If you can’t help me, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

---

Draco would hold Harry through nightmares he refused to talk about. After so many nights, Draco was able to gather that there were demons from the war that chased Harry during the day, and tortured him at night, sprawled across the bed, passed out drunk, whimpering and thrashing in his sleep. In Harry’s dreams, someone was always chasing him; someone was always trying to kill him; someone was always taking away the people he loves. Harry would beg and plead with this entity in his sleep over, and over, and over, until he’d spit up, fully waking Draco so he could push Harry onto his side, and let him spew his torment onto the floor rather than asphyxiate from it.

Sometimes...sometimes...Draco wanted Harry to asphyxiate.

---

Everyone has closed their doors to Harry, now.

There’s so much city traffic in the background, Draco strains to hear Harry as he plays the latest voicemail. Harry’s voice isn’t any better today, and as Draco stares out his window, the sun drops low on the horizon, deep red-orange and bright yellow ready to give way to indigo and dark pink.

Draco hopes that Harry’s warm.

“I wish I were a real person. Not this half of a thing—a—thing—that’s—I’m fading—I’m just—a faded memory. I-I’m not even real. I’m not even here.”

Draco plays the message two more times before he slips his jacket on. It wouldn’t hurt to walk around the neighbourhood. For fresh air, that’s all. He grabs a spare jacket, twisting it between both hands as he heads out the front door.

Just in case.

---

Draco wants to hate him.

Several months ago, after Harry drunkenly crashed his broom into a Muggle’s front window, earning a leave of absence from the Aurors and a hefty fine from the Ministry, they walked hand-in-hand into a Muggle private treatment facility in Islington.

Draco packed some of Harry’s clothes in a suitcase, locked his wand up safely, and placed a picture of them, of happier days, at the very top of his belongings. Draco hadn’t given up on Harry like his friends and family had, no, he had held on. In the very beginning of their relationship, Harry’s wildness and recklessness drew Draco in like a moth to a flame. Watching this new lease on life in Harry Potter sparked vitality in Draco’s otherwise mundane existence. When he realised how deep Harry’s troubles ran, it was much too late to back out of their relationship. Draco was in love with him, and was determined to do what others couldn’t or wouldn’t do—fix Harry. Draco was finally going to do it this time, and was finally going to get Harry the help he needed. Hope flowed like a spring in Draco’s chest as he beamed at Harry and whispered words of encouragement in his ear.

It didn’t matter that Harry couldn’t share his demons with Draco.

If not Draco, then anyone else, anyone who would listen. All Draco wanted was for Harry to share his pain with someone. Draco could live with not being the one, if it meant he could save Harry from whatever death sentence he’d lulled himself into believing he owed.

They checked Harry into the facility. Draco had cried as he hugged Harry goodbye. It would be several weeks until they’d see each other again.

Harry called Draco that same night, rousing him from a peaceful sleep.

When Draco answered his ringing mobile, Harry urged him to the front of the flat. Now standing in front of his bay window, Draco watched as Harry, a bottle in hand, swayed on his feet and bellowed into his mobile.

“I’m scared, Draco…please! I couldn’t do it. They’re…they’re always watching me, no matter how much I run from them, they’re always following me, and I’m so tired, love. I’m so tired of running, please. I couldn’t do it; they’re going to destroy my life. Destroy us. Not like this, not like this, okay?” said Harry, nonsensical, his words a backhanded slap across Draco’s face. “Please let me up. Please, Draco. Please help me. Just. Help me different. I love you so much.”

There was an unbearable churning in the pit of Draco’s stomach as he breathed out slowly, trembling. Harry stared up at him, gesticulating wildly with the bottle in hand.

Draco did hate Harry.

Draco hated him every single time that prickling sense of failure erupted across his skin when he looked into Harry’s unfocused green eyes, dull and listless, or when Harry was ranting illogically, or when Draco picked him up from off the floor, covered in his own vomit to lead him to the shower, or when he had to force feed him, or ply him with hangover potions every morning, or when Draco has to answer the call of a pregnant, devastated Hermione and an angry Ron, both begging Draco to come get Harry who was screaming down their flat. Ranting, raving, always about the demons that chased him, but never elaborating, never letting anyone in.

When Harry was brave, the world’s saviour, he was a force to be reckoned with, a hero that won each battle at the end of the day.

Draco was not like Harry. He wasn’t strong or smart enough to save someone who didn’t want to be saved.

But even knowing all of this, knowing what would come next, and would continue to come afterwards, Draco let Harry slip back in.

---

“I hate myself more than I’ll ever hate you,” whispers Harry. “Will you love me when I’m dead, too? Will it make you love me more?”

Draco flinches, equal parts shame and terror ripping him open like Sectumsempra. He numbly deletes the message.

---

Harry’s voice is a burst of fury in the last message Draco ever plays.

“You ruined me! You left me...you left me to the fucking dogs, the fucking streets! You never loved me...you never...you...you...were supposed to save me, save me like I saved you...you selfish fuck...”

Draco stops listening to Harry’s messages after that. The message nearly sends him into a spiral, the bottom of a bottle suddenly sounding appealing. Draco reaches out to his friends, and it’s Hermione and Ron that steps up, embraces him, and tells him he’s doing his best, that none of this is his fault, and he has to let Harry find his own way. Before Draco knows it, Harry’s voicemails stop coming. A month passes and no one has seen or heard from Harry, not even his best mates.

Draco walks the entire neighbourhood, every day, pausing at Harry’s favourite pubs, peering inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wild, jet-black cowlicks. The streets are grey and cold, colder still are Draco’s insides as he starts to fear that he’ll never see Harry again, that...

That Harry might actually be dead.

Wouldn’t there be an outcry? Wouldn’t the Magical community know? Wouldn’t Draco feel his passing in the very depths of his bones?

He knows he would, he knows he would feel it, convinces himself of it, even as he curls into a tiny ball in the middle of his and Harry’s bed, sobs wracking his body from the depths of his loss.

---

Hermione has her baby.

Draco visits St Mungo’s with flowers and a teddy bear. Harry would’ve wanted Draco to be there in his stead on such a beautiful, important day for his best mates.

Hermione cries when she sees him, hugging Draco tightly, Harry’s absence starkly felt in a room brimming with so much love and new life. Draco peers down at the baby, guileless dark eyes peering up at him, tiny rosebud lips pouty. Harry should be here to see this beautiful creation.

The small hospital room is bursting to the brim with the Weasley family, and soon Draco finds himself tucked away in a far corner, out of place, even as Ron smiles warmly at him, his hands tossing up in a humorous, dazed sort of manner from across the room. A small smile tugs at Draco’s lips as he shrugs back. Draco’s distracted from the exchange and general chaos of the room by the vibration of his mobile. He pulls it free from his pocket, not recognising the number that flashes across the tiny screen. He hurries out of the room, the cool air of St Mungo’s hallway rushing past him as he leans against a wall painted with colourful images of baby magical creatures.

Draco flips his mobile open, pressing it against his ear. “Hello?”

There’s a long pause before a familiar voice warms Draco’s entire body. “Christ, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

Draco’s head falls back against the wall, his knees weak as he slides down the wall until he’s on his bum, his knees drawn up to his chest. His breathing is strenuous. “Harry?”

Harry chuckles and Draco can hear the tears in it. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me, Draco. Christ, I’ve missed you so much—”

“Where-where the hell have you been? Do you know what I’ve—what we’ve all been—”

“—I know, I know. I’m so sorry. I was afraid if I contacted you about this, I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I’m in a Muggle treatment facility in Kent, and have been for almost a month now. I just earned my phone privileges. Did-did the baby come? I know it’s not due for a few days, but Hermione’s never been the most patient person and I bet that extends to her child.” Harry’s laugh is sweet. Overwhelmingly sweet.

Draco laughs, too, before he breaks into several little sniffles, “Yes…you’re right on time, actually. She had the baby today.”

“No way!” exclaims Harry. “I knew it…I had a feeling, and I knew you’d…can you…can you tell me anything about the baby?”

“She’s beautiful,” whispers Draco, shaking his head as his eyes burn and his throat constricts. “She’s going to have Hermione’s hair, for sure, and Ron’s freckles. Her name is Rose.”

“Rose…Christ, I wish I could be there,” says Harry wistfully.

Draco whimpers. “I wish you were here, too. Merlin. Harry, I’m so sorry…”

“No. Don’t be. You did nothing wrong. This was—this was all me. You tried so hard to help me. It was me, okay? Nothing would’ve changed until I decided I wanted to change, so don’t—don’t you apologise for anything. Ever. If you hadn’t put me out, I would have continued to drag you down, and slowly kill myself.”

Draco wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, his lips trembling. “I miss you, every single day.”

“I know, babe.”

Draco squeezes his eyes shut. “I couldn't continue listening to the messages.”

Harry’s voice is soft, careful, as he says, “I’m glad you stopped. They weren’t right. It wasn’t right to do that to you, and I hope you can one day forgive me.”

Draco swallows, his heart in his throat. “Already forgiven.”

Harry says slowly, “I wanted to ask you about something kind of important. See, there’s this meeting for-for loved ones coming up in a couple of days…and I was wondering, would you come? For me, as my partner? I know…I know I’ve been awful, Draco, I’m so sorry. But it would mean the world to me if you could—”

“—Yes,” gasps Draco, sitting up straight, a rush of excitement and happiness flooding him. “Of course, I—I’m so proud of you—”

Harry exhales messily, the sound both jarring and cleansing to Draco’s ears. “I’m…thank you. Thank you for saying that, and, I’m so excited to see you, thank you for giving me...for agreeing. I can text you the address and room number. It’s this Wednesday at noon.”

Draco blinks up at the ceiling, trying to calm his quivering body. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

Harry’s laugh is light. “Thank you.”

Draco’s smile is wobbly as he opens his mouth to say the words, the words that he’s been desperate to say for a month now, but he couldn’t, out of fear that they would never reach Harry, the weight of that possibility too unbearable.

And what if it’s too soon? Maybe Harry’s not ready. Maybe this will all go to pot and Draco will be back at square one with Harry. Maybe—

“Hey, Draco?” interrupts Harry.

Draco clears his throats, his cartwheeling thoughts diminishing like a curl of smoke. “Yes?”

“I love you. Thank you…thank you for not giving up on me,” says Harry, gently.

Draco’s hand covers his face, the hot slide of tears on his flushed cheeks. “I love you too, Harry. Always. Always. Always.”

[drxwsyni]

Always, and Forever

Pairing: Yandere Koushi Sugawara x f!Reader

Synopsis: Koushi has taken care of you for so long, by now it’s something you’ve come to find solace in. And so it pains you to have to part from him on purge night, forced into the outside world in hopes of quelling your lingering embers of desired independence, however that may happen.

a/n: This is my fic for the Yandere Purge AU writing collab, hosted by the Lovesick Discord server! Here’s the link to the m.list where you can read the other fics members have written for this collab! I really didn’t mean for my part to get this long, but alas I have zero self control. 

Thanks you so so so much to @yanderart​ for beta-ing this fic, you literally always work wonders for me while also being the sweetest human being ever. Many kithes for you my dear friend.

9.7k words

Warnings: Dubcon, heavy stockholm syndrome, infantilization, attempted assault (when Daichi makes a brief appearance), injury, depictions of violence, gaslighting, manipulation.

_____

He felt like home.

Koushi’s embrace, his words, his smell―the stability he surrounded you with.

The love he surrounded you with.

You felt light around him. Mind in another place, floating off into feelings of quietude. A swell of comfort bloomed in your chest at the sight of him. His warm and familiar smile, adoration for you shining in his hazel brown eyes. The way his fingers ghosted across your skin, gentle, as if you were made of the most delicate glass, and any move too unintentionally harsh would break you.

It’s why he took such good care of you. Making sure you were safe, out of harm from the dangers of the outside world. Tucked away in his home a small ways away from the outskirts of the city. He held a certain pride to it all―the knowledge that you were protected from all that could ail you, and all because of him.

You doubted that there was anyone else on the planet who would do the same. Who would learn every single little thing about you, know you better than you knew yourself. Nobody else existed that would dedicate so much to making sure you never had to worry your pretty little head over the stresses of everyday life.

There was nobody but Koushi.

As he held you close, your back pressed into his as the two of you lay in bed, it was obvious that he was all that you needed.

His arms wrapped around you, and with the lulling sensation of sleep slowly washing over you like a rising tide, it was easy to melt into his embrace. If you relaxed enough, let your inhibitions escape you, just how he always urged you to do, you might just feel like all is right in your small world with him.

“...You know what day tomorrow is, right?”

But that was why you couldn’t relax.

Koushi keeps you on your toes, biding his time for you to step out of line. He waits patiently, observing, but not compelling you more than normal on any given day. Your lover keeps with routine, fearful that changes will be too much for you to handle. Only, you wish there was a change, anything to stave off the mental consequences that repetitive actions brought.

You couldn’t relax, because even if he felt like home, it was still not your home. You lost that a year ago tomorrow.

...Purge night.

Free reign given to those like Koushi, and for those such as yourself. To have and to hold, or to run free. Two opposing forces in a race against the clock to fulfill their desires.

But you didn’t even make it past the first five minutes.

• • •

Seated on his couch, TV mantled above the fireplace, a warm glow dancing across the room.

You were nervous―painfully so.

That dreaded letter came in the mail. You were selected to be a participant, the government mandated notice read. Unfortunately for you, it didn’t read who you were selected by. It was why you were scared out of your mind, and why you went to the only person who could calm you down.

At his side, his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, Koushi soothingly reassured you that everything would be alright. With his words, low and gentle, softly spoken in your ear. Or with his actions, a welcomingness that you could never refuse. His home being a safe haven, his touch coaxing you to let yourself accept that you had not a single thing to fret about with him.

He offered protection for the night. And you knew that you wouldn’t make it out there by yourself, so of course you obliged.

You obliged when he said to make yourself comfortable, when he offered to put on some music to ease the tension, whatever could assist your shaken soul. Your nerves were quite clearly running rampant― “Nothing a good cup of tea can’t fix.”

Koushi was right, it did wonders for your state, subdued more and more by the second.

Soon, the announcement played across the screen. Words in bold urging caution for some, and sparking adrenaline for many.

For you, things felt...strange.

The task of placing who had signed you up for this dreadful night was mind boggling. You thought to your coworkers, childhood friends, even lingering acquaintances that had entered and left your life in the span of a single day.

Still, nobody came to mind…

Not until the announcement ended.

Or the sirens outside ceased their countrywide alerts.

It wasn’t until you lost the feeling in your limbs, did you know where your mistake lay.

Taking the form of your always caring friend, never the one to leave you unguarded. Constantly checking up on you, ensuring you were looking after yourself. Doing everything he could to take responsibility for all those little things you couldn’t handle, just to lift that extra weight off you.

But really, Koushi didn’t think you could handle anything. Not like he could. Your struggles weren’t something you, a fragile and vulnerable thing, could ever possibly manage. In his eyes, you just weren’t made to take care of yourself.

That’s what he told you as he shut the television off, and as he laid you down on the couch.

He spoke so lovingly, “It’s alright, my sweet girl.”

By then it was too late. You were reduced to being completely defenceless, at risk of quite literally everything.

...That’s not how he saw it, though.

To Koushi, you’d never been safer.

That was the reality―you in his home away from modern dangers. Then, and now still.

• • •

A year had just about gone by. You no longer thought for yourself, for the most part. Koushi tried to force you into a state of complete dependence, and you couldn’t deny that he did a good job of it. You knew this because mostly, your memory was in shambles. From days upon days upon weeks where you let him do all the work, things didn’t really stick. And what significant thing was there to remember in the same laid out and unfaltering routine?

He would always dote on you, not once have you needed to ask him to do so. “It’s my responsibility,” he would repeatedly tell you. It wasn’t your place to fend for yourself―that was his job.

With how thorough he was with that agenda, not letting you slip up for a second without reprimanding you, Koushi had molded your mindset to fit his ideals. A year of reminders, of insisting submission upon you―all serving one purpose.

To make you see, make you understand that he was the only one for you.

But he knew just as much, if not more than you, that still there remained the flickering flames of autonomy. The need for it dim, but its light still a beacon of strength that fueled you to resist him.

Koushi waited for an answer, an acknowledgement to his question that no doubt stirred conflict in your mind.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, a seed of dread planted in your chest. Just slightly, you nodded your head in confirmation. Of course you knew what tomorrow was.

The day where, only because it’s illegal not to do so, those like you were given a chance at freedom. To make up for failing last year, and to obtain that independence you once held.

You didn’t even know if you completely wanted it though...

Behind you, Koushi pulled you closer into him. Carefully, he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss against your temple. His hand intertwined with yours, giving it a small squeeze.

And nothing more was said on the matter.

_____

You woke up in his arms, a safe cocoon under the sheets with the morning daylight seeping through the cracks of the closed blinds. Of course, Koushi was already awake.

Sometime throughout the night, you shifted into your current position―head resting on his chest, arm thrown over his torso. You sighed happily as you were met in your waking state with the feeling of his hand on your waist, holding you against him as he thumbed the soft and nightgown clothed skin soothingly, a repeated back and forth.

His morning voice always made you feel different. A little raspy, but still coated in his loving tone, creating butterflies in your stomach. “Mornin’, pretty girl.”

Still wrapped in the comfort of a post sleep haze, you nuzzled your face into his chest. “Mmmn...mornin’.”

If you were looking at him, you’d be able to see his expression that was practically dripping in admiration. You might find his tiredly intimate words and motions endearing, but he found that of yours to be nearly enough to stop his heart.

Really, everything you did had that effect.

...It was a shame he’d have to go without it later tonight.

For now however, he’d let you sleep in. It was the weekend after all, and you needed your beauty rest. That, and he wasn’t about to ruin this moment by discussing the inevitable.

_____

Neither of you had yet to speak of what was soon to come, but that didn’t matter. Not when, even from the moment he got you out of bed, that reality was already having an influence on your day.

Normally, Koushi would opt to dress you in something a little more delicate. He liked the sight of you in a silken nightgown, an earthy pale pink, or pastel blues. Something to represent how fragile he thought you to be. Of course, it was never a practical outfit. But you had nowhere you needed to be, remaining inside his home your only job.

This morning's upgrade of a real dress, one with pockets, double lined and long sleeve, was the first reminder of tonight’s main event. All in all, it was pretty. You liked it, you were grateful for it.

But it only made your chest tighten, an indescribable hint of trepidation taking hold of your being.

The day goes on, you once again settling into routine. It wasn’t hard doing so, especially since now you’ve grown used to how unwavering it is. You actually find it quite nice.

If you forced yourself to step outside of your adopted headspace, it was just barely possible to pinpoint when you became this docile. When the rules Koushi had both mentally and physically beat into you became automatic actions. Or, when they didn’t seem like rules, but more so guidelines for a healthy routine that you genuinely wanted to complete.

Because you did feel healthy. You got plenty of sleep, since you always went to bed when he told you to. You had a balanced diet, because even though Koushi was busy with work, he always managed to prepare you a proper meal. You felt at peace, because you forgot why you were here in the first place.

So, separating from that compliance, and forcing yourself to remember your reality―you’d say it’s been roughly three months since you started to enjoy living with Koushi. And now that you’ve memorized the routine he’s set up for you, you know that when he sits you down on the couch, while he remains standing in front of you before speaking―these are special circumstances.

It’s just after dinner, a little past 5 o’clock. He has yet to help you switch into your evening routine, which normally consists of giving you a task such as reading or drawing to pass the time, until you have to get ready for bed.

You know that he’s looking down at you, but you can’t bring yourself to return his gaze. When you caught a glimpse of it, it only stirred anxiety inside of you. He wasn’t tense. He wasn’t upset. He seemed...casual.

Too casual for the conversation you were about to have.

“I know this is stressful for you, sweetheart. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Your hands are folded on your lap, nails digging into the skin in an attempt to distract you from the developing worry encasing you.

Much to your dismay, Koushi crouches down in front of you, a hand placed gently atop your knee. Like an adult trying to get on the level of a child, which honestly is what he makes you feel like sometimes when he speaks in such a soft tone. It forces you to look him in the eyes.

He’s right―you could always say no.

Mandatory by law, those like you who are bound to your ‘lover’ by their legal ownership over you must be given a chance to regain independence. However, you’re completely within your rights to deny the offer. Of course, this would mean that for another year you would be stuck with them.

The problem is, many of the individuals who deny the offer no longer find it as being stuck.

You don’t know what you would define it as.

What you do know is that if you go, the odds of making it out with that sense of freedom aren’t very encouraging. Your stamina is all but entirely depleted, given how the most activity you get is by walking throughout the house to either the bathroom, living room or kitchen.

On top of that, you have zero clue where you’d go. Being in the same spot for a year hasn’t exactly done anything for your sense of direction, or your understanding of the city’s layout. And the last time you went outside, the most you saw was the same view from the living room’s window.

Because you only got about ten feet from the back door before Koushi caught you.

That experience didn’t give you anything to help you in trying your hand at tonight’s offer. In fact, it only made things more difficult. The mere thought of what had ensued after he dragged you back inside his home was immobilizing.

It was likely the very reason as to why deciding if you wanted to attempt to leave Koushi was so debilitating. When even thinking of taking a single step outside struck fear into your core.

...

You should say no.

But of course, things would never be that simple. Not now at least.

Those embers of resistance still burned inside of you. Albeit dangerously fleeting, you could just barely recall the indulgences of your past life. A time where you still held that independence, when you could choose to do things for yourself. Small things you took for granted, like fast food or staying up late and binging shows―while the memories were clouded, you could still recognize the feeling they gave you.

Of warmth, or of the mindless pleasure that you used to never think twice about seeking.

A pang of guilt shot through you, realizing how selfish you were for wanting to leave Koushi over that. He’d been so good to you, making sure you barely had to lift a finger. Yet here you were, yearning for things that would only do you harm, a fact he’d repeated countless times in the early days of living with you.

But, tonight was the only night of the year when you got to be a little selfish. The prospect of earning those little independent privileges was strangely like fuel to the nearly burnt out fire of your lingering resistance.

You looked back at the grey haired man, still calmly awaiting an answer.

“N-no, no...I want to do this, I think…”

And there was that smile again, all too soft and gentle for what you could only guess was some well contained detestment for your words. He looked understanding, and to anyone else the way he regarded you would be endearing.

What a loving boyfriend….

If only they knew.

With that, he let you remain on the couch, waiting patiently for his return while he moved momentarily into another room. Soon he returned, and for the first time in a whole year, he let you watch television that wasn’t dumbed down animated shows, or wholesome animal documentaries.

Koushi put on the news, or more specifically, the countdown broadcast to the purge.

_____

You could almost laugh at how rattled simply watching the news made you. It would be amusing, accept your heart was beating too fast, mind racing with worrying thoughts to realize the irony of the situation.

This night was supposed to be your only chance of gaining legal custody of your own independence. You should be beaming. Yet here you were, anxiously bouncing your leg, bottom lip between your teeth as the announcer went on with scripts of how people across the country were preparing for when 6 pm hit.

And Koushi, the one who should be stressed with the possibility of you slipping out of his grasp―he was doing fine.

For the most part, at least.

Sure, a small hint of dread for the highly, and he means highly, unlikely was present in the back of his mind. But Koushi knew you. He knew every single little thing that made you who you were.

Of course he did, he loved you after all.

So that flicker of dread remained almost nonexistent. Because he also knew how this night would end, and that was more than enough to calm his nerves.

Unconsciously, you leaned into Koushi’s side. He was seated right next to you on the middle of the couch. An arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your left hand in his and placed on his lap, his fingers not so absentmindedly drawing soothing circles into your skin.

You didn’t see, but his eyes never left your troubled and practically shaking form.

He felt bad for taking pride in the sight.

It meant that you were terrified of leaving him. And you should be, it was so dangerous out there. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself, it’s why he did it for you. So, seeing this proof that in less than ten minutes, you’d be going out into the night alone, had you shivering in fear―it only told him that what he was doing was right.

Yes, it did hurt him to see you so distressed, but you needed to learn your place.

Which was next to him, always.

And when he thought about it, this is how his lessons always went. Koushi would never hurt you unless you deserved it. Unfortunately for you, you tended to do a lot of things that warranted punishment. And he was eager to help you see things his way. Tonight was no different.

You’d never be in any real danger.

He’d never go as far as to permanently damage you in any way.

If you deserved the punishment, then he should be allowed to have a little fun with it.

Both of you were brought out of your respective intense thoughts as the room was bathed in red. The television screen, now vibrantly pigmented in the colour, began playing the annual emergency broadcast, alarms blaring from the speakers.

Koushi saw how you flinched, and like the loving person he was, he reached for the remote to turn down the volume. You were still shaking like a leaf, stare fixated on the bolded words rolling across the screen.

In an attempt to console you, Koushi gently moved a hand onto your shoulder, urging you to lean back into him. Your heart skipped a beat as he placed a kiss on the crown of your head, lingering there for a moment.

He spoke in a delicate whisper, just loud enough that it would drown out the automated announcer from the last broadcast to be had tonight. “...Shhh, you’re alright sweetheart.”

Unconsciously, you nodded with his affirmation, trying to convince yourself of the same thing.

Information continued to dance across the screen. You would have twelve hours, starting at 6 pm, which was in two minutes, to do whatever you needed to obtain your ideal outcome. So would those opposite of you in nature, which didn’t exactly help your chances of fighting for your freedom.

A myriad of other rules and such were listed, most of them being useless to you. It was more so meant for those of the bolder type. What weapons you could use, who you could injure, and how far you could take things.

You didn’t want to hurt anybody. You just wanted to go back to how things were before naively falling for Koushi’s trap―or at least that’s what you thought. The whole decision still felt a little cloudy in your mind, even now.

Abruptly, the television stopped it’s recount of the mandatory notice. The red returned to black, because for one, there was nothing more to and. And, because Koushi had turned off the TV, the resounding click bringing you back to reality.

Neither of you moved as the countrywide sirens rang out. The fixed speakers outside sounded off, letting everyone who wasn’t tuning into the news segment that finally, the purge had begun.

Your gaze remained fixed on the floor, feeling like it was taking an eternity for the roaring noises to cease. Eventually they did, leaving you and Koushi with the silence of the living room, the hushed sounds of a crackling fireplace being the only thing to meet your ears.

Naturally, he has to do everything for you. And, naturally, he doesn’t mind.

“C’mon, sweet girl.”

Carefully, so as not to scare you more than you already clearly were, Koushi pulled you off the couch. Not moving too quickly, he kept your hand held firmly in his as he led you to the front door.

You couldn’t remember the last time you got this close to the entrance. His various methods of reprimand doing wonders to keep you from drawing near it. Sometimes, even looking at the door was something you feared.

But now, here you were, standing right in front of it.

You followed Koushi’s movements, your hand falling at your side as he released it to begin undoing the excessive amount of locks.

Not excessive to him of course, anything to keep his perfect little girl safe.

The quiet beeping of the door’s alarm was the only thing to be heard aside from the noise of your heart beating in your chest, the sound reverberating in your skull. Then came the manual locks, Koushi’s hand reaching into his pocket to grab the keyring.

With each lock coming undone, your mindset continued to spiral.

You can’t do this. It’s too much to handle. You have no clue where to go, or where to hide.

And the comfort that he provides―you really do like it.

How he touches you, tender and lovingly, able to feel with every movement how much he cares for you. When he wraps you in his arms, that familiar and comforting smell that’s so undeniably Koushi sedating those thoughts at unease. He speaks to you, always saying the right things, so softly.

You realized that lately, there was nothing to worry about with him.

But you would lose all you earned the second you stepped out of his home.

Yet, as he finishes with the locks and turns back to you, it doesn’t feel like you’ll lose anything.

Not as in, once you leave, his presence will be gone, and that you’ll never have to experience it after you make it out of this night with your freedom.

Rather, once you fail, he’ll be waiting, ready to snuff out those pangs of anguish you’re feeling right now, just like he always does. That kind of comfort didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

The thought alone was enough to quell many of your concerns.

Koushi stepped towards you, his hands reaching for you, finding their destination in gingerly cupping your face. Nervously, your eyes flitted from his frame to the door’s handle.

The man in front of you sighed slightly, taking in the details of your expression. The furrow of your brows, how you had trouble focusing on any one thing while a plethora of thoughts raced through your mind.

He liked knowing how much this was bothering you. Showing that at the end of the day, you were more dependent on him than you realized.

Koushi was the first to speak, you tensing at the startling noise.

“I’m not forcing you to do this, sweetheart. You know you don’t have to go out there.”

He studied you intently, and you felt the urge to shrink from his focused gaze. It would be so easy to just stay home. To curl up with Koushi in front of the fireplace, relax into his arms as the night went by.

But as you looked back to the unlocked door once more, you knew that wasn’t an option.

“I do have to, I’m sorry…”

You didn’t know if you were apologizing to him, or to yourself.

Koushi smiled, a thumb momentarily caressing your cheekbone before pulling away.

“Well, then―I’ve got something for you.” His hand once again fished around in his pocket before pulling out the object in question.

Your eyes landed on it immediately―a burner phone.

It was simple, a black flip phone, old model and with little use aside from calls and texts that took far too long to type out on its inconvenient keyboard.

Koushi stood next to you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he flipped the device open. The artificial glow of the screen illuminated your face while he held it open for you to observe.

“My number is on speed dial, just press here―” he went through the motions slowly, letting you follow the steps he was taking, “―and you’ll be able to call whenever you need me.”

Slowly you nodded, amazed at the prospect of using an electronic, even an ancient one. You hadn’t touched a phone in so long.

Koushi slipped the device into the pocket of your dress, choosing to face you once again. This time he gripped your shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze to grab your attention. “If you can’t handle being out there, promise that you’ll call me.”

For the first time this night, you looked him in the eyes. Those full of compassion and care, you not knowing the feelings they hid from you.

“...I will, Koushi.”

A moment of silence lingered in between the two of you, and before you could make any first move, his lips were softly connecting with yours.

An action full of devotion, you had no choice but to melt into it. Because now, it no longer caused discomfort to eat away at your system, but the exact opposite.

When his lips parted from yours, instead of immediately letting go, Koushi pulled you into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist, your head settling into the crook of his neck.

You finally realized that there had been tears slipping down your cheeks this whole time.

His voice sent shivers down your spine, spoken against the shell of your ear. “I love you, so much…”

Your hands gripped his shirt tightly in response.

“...But, you won’t stand a chance out there.”

An odd choice of words, while although it did send an icy fear throughout your body, it still made you want to go out there and prove him wrong.

Whether or not he realized that fact was beyond you.

Koushi pulled away, not before pressing a final kiss on your cheek. His hand reached for the doorknob, turning, and swinging it open.

The cold air of the evening hit your body, the sun rapidly setting on the horizon. It brought about a new sense of coldness to go along with that which was stirred by your anxieties. Breaking your attention away from the outdoors that lay just a few feet away, Koushi voiced his plans.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll give you an hour as a head start, sound good?”

Silently, because you couldn’t form the words to make a response with an impossible lump in your throat, you nodded. But you still remained in place.

Waiting for his permission.

He smiled at your expectant behaviour.

Koushi waved a hand, gesturing to the outdoors. “...Go on, now.”

Hesitantly, still greatly unsure of your own decision, you did as he said. Feeling almost light, with your body seemingly moving on its own, you stepped through what, up until now, was a forbidden threshold.

The breeze in the air made your dress flow, the feeling of the forceful chill against the bare skin of your legs a foreign sensation after all this time. You could hear the sounds of crickets chirping in the grass, many living past the tree-line of the forest surrounding his home.

The sun was what you were least expecting.

Just barely managing to peek through the mostly overcast sky, its intense rays landed upon your skin. You could feel its heat, a warmth contrasting the fall temperatures. Tilting your head up slightly, you closed your eyes to bask in its natural gift.

But as soon as it came, the sensation was gone.

The sky fully clouded over, leaving you in the cold, and in a darkness threatening to grow worse as each second ticked by. Still battling an inner turmoil to go through with your wants, you turned around to face Koushi one last time.

Still at the front entrance, he was bathed in the inviting warm light coming from inside the house. He made no more moves to sway you in any which direction. Instead, he simply stood in the doorway, casually leaning against it with his hands in his pockets.

That’s when it dawned on you.

You were wasting time.

No wonder he was so calm. Letting you spend precious seconds getting nowhere.

Your eyes met his. Koushi gave you that signature smile that suddenly wasn’t so comforting.

And then, you were gone.

_____

Your heart was thudding loudly in your chest, desperate gulps of air entering and exiting your already exhausted system. Previous calculations on the few strengths you’d have going for you, and the many weaknesses holding you back were correct.

After less than two minutes of running, you already had to reduce yourself to a walking pace.

Your limbs felt increasingly strained at the sudden exertion, calves aching and lungs burning. Once you slowed down and your wits returned, you noticed the particularly painful sensation in your feet.

Koushi failed to give you proper shoes for the night's events, instead leaving you in your fairly thin lined slippers that now weren’t even good enough to keep out the chill.

Or perhaps, he did that on purpose?

Those facts didn’t quite matter at the moment. You had finally reached the edge of the city, making good time as you didn’t have the need to make it there under the cover of the forest. A quick glance at your burner phone would tell you that you still had fifteen minutes of free time, so there was no problem being out in the open as you took to the road to reach your destination.

The stretches of trees were replaced with encroaching buildings, starting out small and changing into impressive structures as you ventured further into the city.

Overall, it was quiet. Aside from a few stray pieces of litter blowing in the wind, there was nobody out on the streets aside from yourself. Really, many people didn’t have a reason to be out. Not everyone had someone to be running from, or oppositely, had someone to be running after. If you didn’t fall into either of those two categories, then you had no reason not to stay inside.

After all, getting in someone’s way could mean risking your life.

This constant and looming reality, that the only reason why you were out was because of these special circumstances―it didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

Even as you caught your breath, your heart remained beating rapidly inside your chest. Your feet stumbled awkwardly along the sidewalk, wincing with each shot of pain that ran up your legs.

You only paused when your eyes landed on red and bolded graffiti on the side of a boarded up shop.

“KNOW YOUR PLACE.”

However, you failed to understand what that was anymore.

The sudden noise of a shrill scream sounding from some indiscernible place brought you startlingly out of your focus on the graffiti. The noise bounced off of the brick walls of buildings around you. Your head whipped from side to side, trying to understand where it was coming from.

Only, it felt like the screams were all around you.

Your hands were clenched into tight fists, nails indenting crescent moons into the skin of your palms. The wails lasted for a mere five or so seconds, but it felt like minutes with how your distress was only amplifying your panicked reaction.

In that state of immense internal torment, you unable to think of any one decision for yourself, your body once again acted on it’s own. Fight or flight senses kicking in, favouring the latter, you bolted away from what you were most sure was the best direction away from the screaming.

Really it was all you could do. Staying in one spot, frozen with fear that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, wouldn’t do a single thing for you. Even if you didn’t know the exact destination of your travels, all you knew was that you had to put as much distance as possible between you and Koushi’s home.

So you ran, only to once again forget just how ill equipped you were.

The street lights went by in a blur, wind whipping past you. The first bead of sweat trickled down your face as you willed yourself to keep moving. Not even a minute in and you were slowing to a stop, leaning against the side of a building.

You could’ve passed out right then and there, with the weight of your exhaustion, and your weakening mindset crashing down on you. But if you stopped, you knew that you’d likely never be on the winning side of this night.

Still trying to catch your breath, you used this time to pull out your burner phone. Flipping the small device open, you winced at the bright and artificial glow that you were so unaccustomed to, especially in the darkening light of the evening.

Your eyes landed on the clock, front and center of the compact screen.

7:00 pm.

The head start was up.

_____

A quiet playing of jazz music lingered in the background of the kitchen, the pinks and oranges of a setting sun behind the clouds casting part of the room in a warm hue. Methodically, and humming to himself, Koushi was drying the dishes from the dinner he had with you, fondly recalling how breathtaking you looked in your new dress.

He took a quick glance at the clock after putting the last cleaned dish in the cupboard, making sure to lock the small door shut. The device mounted on the wall told him it was nearing quarter to eight.

Expectantly, his phone rang in his pocket, him not even needing to look at the caller ID before answering. Especially not when the voice on the other line spoke before he could even get a word out.

“You still need me for tonight?”

Koushi slung the cup towel over his shoulder, leaning against the granite countertop. “Daichi, I’d really appreciate the help if you’re still up for it. I understand if you can’t though―”

“You had my back last year, the least I can do is return the favour.”

Softly, Koushi laughed a little to himself, remembering how frustrated his friend was, unable to control his other half.

He nodded, gazing out the window as he spoke. “Well then, do you remember what I said or should we go through it again?”

On the other line, he heard some indistinct rustling, paying to mind to it. “That’s alright, I know how important this is to you. Couldn’t forget it even if I tried.”

That brought a chuckle out of both of them, Daichi continuing soon after.

“I’ll get going then, gotta handle a few things first.”

This time, Koushi could make out the distinct noise of a car trunk slamming shut. Meaning his friend was already on his way to set up.

“...Of course. Thanks again, by the way.”

He heard what sounded like keys jingling, “No problem, talk to you later.”

With that, Koushi ended the call. Phone still on, he was left to look at the last app he had open, the screen still giving him live information by the second. Satisfied with what he saw, he excited the tracking software, swiftly pocketing the phone.          

Grabbing the still somewhat full wine glass on the countertop, Koushi made his way to the living room. Relaxing into the couch with a relieved sigh, he resigned himself to a waiting game, knowing it’d only be so long until he had you back, safe and wrapped in his arms.

Just where you should be.

_____

There weren’t many options: either hide in the shadows, and be at risk for unsuspected attacks, or remain in the safety of the street lights, exposed to any and all onlookers. Looking over your shoulder, not quite eyeing any one thing that meant certain danger, you chose the latter.

When the screams around you finally died down, fading into the background as you left it in the dust behind you, the sound of a distant rumbling came to the forefront. With a quick glance up, you could see that, even in the dimming light of the evening, the clouds above were growing thicker. Darkening and swirling in the sky, you knew that soon a storm would be upon you.

As the earthy aroma of approaching rain permeated your senses, your heart longed for the comfort back home. If it weren’t for that nearly indescribable need to keep moving away from Koushi, you’d be back there. Probably relaxing on the couch, a sedating melody coming from the record player. Another perfect Saturday night spent in your lovers presence.

You could practically feel the heat of the fireplace on your face if you focused hard enough.

However, that heat wasn’t coming from such a sanctuary, one who knows how many kilometers away by now. Rather, from the burning building in front of you.

Snapping out of that reminiscent trance, you came to an abrupt stop. Squinting a bit at the bright and flaming scene, you could just barely discern that the building was a police station.

The sight only brought a small quirk to your lips, knowing how useless they were to those like you.

Turning away from the building, you trained your goals on moving in the same direction, fearful of getting turned around and accidentally heading back towards home. Things once again fell into silence, only the sound of a looming and encroaching storm meeting your ears every ten minutes or so. Fatigue had set in long ago, leaving your steps sluggish, fighting every muscle in your body to keep up a consistent pace. Even if you weren’t moving fast, you were still moving.

Except, that too grew nearly impossible to reasonably manage.

The further you walked, the more disturbing sights you came upon. It seemed like all at once, things were hitting the fan. Corrupt scenes unfolding around you being horrifying to no ends.

Exiting an alleyway, the first thing you saw was a man stuffing a body into the trunk of a car. You couldn’t tell who the person was, or whether they were even alive. But those details weren’t remotely feasible, as the perpetrator caught you in his gaze.

Seeing your frozen stature, face riddled with fear, he only laughed to himself.

You were no threat to the claims of the night, so he dismissed you with ease. Leaving you in his wake as he drove off, you stayed put for an unknown amount of minutes.

The terrifying truth of what you were was unavoidable, and damn near immobilizing. Weak in everyone’s eyes, often your own included.

At some point you found the will to start moving again, only to soon pause for a breather. Mostly to ground yourself, you checked the time on your temporary phone.

It read just half past nine. In normal circumstances, you’d be in bed; or getting ready for bed, at the least. As a few droplets began falling from the now pitch black sky, you longed for safety under the covers of your bed. Bundled in soft blankets, a dry nightgown, and the soothingly mellow voice of Koushi next to you. Every night, without fail, he’d always remind you of how much he loved you, helping you fall fast asleep under the calmness he provided.

A shiver wracked your body, heart aching for his safety. Your finger hovered over the call button, one movement away from being scooped up by your saviour.

Your body was jolted out of the thought before you could bother with such a surrender.

Someone―a young girl, maybe in her early twenties, desperately clutched the sleeves of your dress. She looked up at you, expression riddled with a bone chilling dread. “Please help me! He’s...he’s trying to―”

Yet, just as she was about to finish, another set of hands painfully grasped your shoulders. A split second later and you were being thrown into the side of a building.

A man was yelling at you, quite loudly at that. Or maybe he was yelling at the girl―with the way you were sobbing, panic shutting down your better senses, it was too hard to tell. You couldn’t quite hear any one thing, the world falling into silence as the anxieties resting in your system spiked violently.

Your brain didn’t even register that you had bolted into a sprint. Not until, sheerly because your body couldn’t handle taking another step until you gave it at least a little break, you stopped, almost falling to your knees with how drained you were. Barely, you managed to keep yourself upright by leaning against a lamp post.

In that moment, there was only one thing going through your mind.

You wanted to go home.

Koushi’s home, which just as much belonged to you as it did him. That’s where you were meant to be. Not out here, by yourself in the middle of the night, rain coming down around you. Even if it was light, the slight dampness in your clothing had you convulsing in cold bodied trembles.

The phone was still clutched tightly in your hand. You knew what you needed to do.

And as the noise of gunshots rang out in the direction you came from, your plans shifted to do just that.

Shaken to your core, you shuffled into an alleyway. Seeking the refuge of a shelter to make that fated call, you blindly ventured deeper into the narrow passage. The saving grace that were streetlamp lights disappeared behind you, remnants of its glow doing little to help you see where you were going.

Doing nothing to help you see the trap you were walking directly into.

All at once, your knees buckled under you, a net you had stepped into lurching upwards. A shriek escaped your being as the intertwined rope cased around you, hoisting you into the air. Suspended only five five or so feet off the ground, the height wasn’t what sent terror coursing through your veins.

It was the fact that you were trapped, no amount of struggling enough to free you. And, because your phone had slipped out of your hand, through the holes of the net, and onto the pavement beneath you.

Out of reach, leaving you helpless to the whims of your sudden captor.

Just like that, the repeated calling for your lover spilled from your lips. Petrified in every sense, you wailed for Koushi to come and save you. Pleading cries for help were repeated until your throat grew hoarse. You only stopped when you physically couldn’t catch your breath.

But even that ceased as well, when a tall figure came into view.

You blearily wiped away the wetness pooling in your eyes, body uncomfortably folded by the sinch of the net as what looked to be a man stalked towards you.

“...Little things like you really shouldn’t be out on a night like this.”

As he drew closer, you could make out the short cut of his hazelnut hair, chiseled features, a broad frame shielded from the downpour by a waterproof jacket. Slowly, the stranger leaned down, picking up your fallen burner phone.

A small whimper escaped you, “Please…”

The deep baritone of his voice shook you as he spoke, “What, looking for this?” Mockingly, he waved the flimsy device back and forth, just out of arm's reach from you. He lowly chuckled to himself at the severely distraught look you gave him, and at the lifeline that was your phone.

The phone that, taking it in both hands, he snapped in half with ease.

Eyes blown wide, you watched in silent horror as the man tossed the unusable device aside, the noise of it clattering to the ground bouncing off the walls of the alleyway. Before you could even register what had happened, what was going to happen, the man was right in front of you.

You couldn’t even think of what to do or say as his hand reached through an opening in the net, harshly gripping your jaw and forcing you to face him.

His lips were pulled into a small and menacing grin, unspoken notions of his intentions laced into the way he regarded you as prey. A quiet hum resonated from him, scanning your features intently. Not before turning your head to the side ever so slightly, seemingly confirming what he already knew, he spoke up once again.

“...No wonder he loves you.”

The glint of a pocket knife flashed before your eyes, and a second later you were crashing to the ground. With the ropes holding you up now severed, the net fell down around you. As soon as you could stretch out your limbs, you were mindlessly scrambling away.

Your better intuitions were completely clouded over, escape once again being the only thing your body could try to achieve.

“Stop fucking struggling.” The words met your ears as an iron grasp wrapped around your ankle, roughly dragging you back to that spot a few feet away from your position, where you’d only just crawled from.

The assailant flipped you onto your back, “What the hell are you gonna do anyways? You’re not made to fight people like me off.” Strangled sobs left your system as he settled in between your legs, his hand gripping your throat. “I could snap your bones like a fucking twig, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.”

You attempted to sputter out a response, anything to deter the man who was unashamedly handling your much weaker body. Yet, the second your lips parted, a sharp sting bled across your cheek.

“What a dumb little girl you are―dumb enough to walk right into an obvious trap.”

As the glint of a blade returned, you could do nothing but lay there as the sharp edge ripped through the fabric of your dress. The front of it fell open, leaving your bare chest exposed to his eyes, save for the bra being the only thing to defend you.

You didn’t see the knife disappear, only knowing it had gone somewhere when his now free hand groped your breast.

“I mean, what the fuck did you think was going to happen coming out tonight?” The man above you laughed to himself, knowing you were too scared out of your mind to respond.

Meaning his orders were playing out as expected.

The grip on your throat tightened, leading you to space out as he continued the one sided and condescending conversation. “I bet you could’ve avoided this too. Poor thing―too stupid to get out of her own way.”

The pleading request repeated over and over in your mind, but you couldn’t force yourself to speak it. As another smack collided with your cheek, hearing going out in the ear that was affected by the force, those spiralling thoughts got worse, a nauseating feeling rolling in your stomach.

Pleasepleaseplease just stop.

All you wanted was to go home. You should’ve never left. You should’ve never tried to leave Koushi.

Why would you ever want to do that?

Finding yourself growing lightheaded, unable to take in enough oxygen to keep yourself conscious, you felt something inside of you disappear.

If you could describe it, the sensation would be like a sudden dislodge. Relieving, a weight on your body, one that wasn’t caused by a man pressing into you, vanishing entirely.

You still didn’t feel calm, system remaining corrupted with a near crushing fright in your drifting state. But whatever familiar sense of trepidation you once suffered from was now gone.

Hands falling limp at your sides, exhaustion finally getting the better of you as you no longer had it in you to fight off the stranger choking you out, your eyelids fluttered shut. You didn’t want to stop struggling, to give up against this seemingly unstoppable force, but you didn’t have much choice, did you?

Only, a violent and haggard fit of coughs spewed from you as the suffocating force pinning you down disappeared.

Breath quick, your intake and outtake of much needed air stuttering, you heaved weakly against the wet pavement. The first thing that flooded your senses was the patter of the rain hitting the ground around you. Then, it was the feeling of that rain landing on the skin of your face. Cold and cooling, easing the burning ache of your cheeks that had been repeatedly battered just moments ago.

As your eyes closed to bask in the relieving sensation, the droplets against you left, yet still the sound of rain falling down around you remained.

Upon opening your eyes, a swell of emotions ran over you. Tufts of grey hair hung above you, a deeply worried expression of the man you loved regarding your worn out and still shaking form.

“...K-Koushi?”

If it weren’t for the rain, both of you would know full well that the water streaming down your face wasn’t from the night’s downpour. But the hitch in your voice, the tremble in your lower lip―both served as clear displays of the anguish you experienced.

His hands cupped your face, gentle as always, especially now so as not to put pressure on the tender skin. Even with the commotion of the storm beating down around the two of you, his voice was as clear as day.

“I’m right here, pretty girl.”

_____

The silence that the sanctuary of Koushi’s home, your home, brought about was like balm to your oversensitive state. It wasn’t a deafening silence, per se. Because here and there, it still carried symphonies of the outside world, while the world right at your fingertips brought ones of safety inside such sturdy walls. Whether it be the muffled noises of overhead thunder, or the soothing sounds of rippling water as your fingers danced mindlessly underneath its surface.

The heat of the freshly drawn bath was doing wonders for your strained muscles, now feeling limp in Koushi’s arms as he held you from behind. With a deep sigh, lungs still burning from previous exertion, you leaned into him. It was easy to melt into the secondary warmth he provided, your partially bruised back pressing into his chest.

With the night’s activities washed from your bodies, you needed only to bask in the presence of the man you once feared you lost. The shift from one extreme to another, immobilizing terror to heart wrenching relief―nothing had ever made your head spin faster.

Now, while you let the humidity of the bathroom seep into your skin, the sweet scent of body wash meeting your senses, the invisible weight of guilt remained burning. Your eyebrows stayed knitted, a look of worry that Koushi couldn’t see.

But little did you know, he knew it’s what you felt. He knew everything about you, right down to the last little detail. So he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when your meek voice broke through the silence, spoken in a volume just barely above a whisper, purely because your vocal cords were shot from when he heard you calling for him only an hour ago.

“...I really am sorry, Koushi.”

He wrapped his arms around you tighter, thumb running back and forth against the bare skin of your arm. “If you’re sorry, then you’ll let me take care of you. No more messing around.”

...

It’s not that you didn’t want to let Koushi do as he pleased, it was that you didn’t know why he wished to do it in the first place. Even after all the time he’d spent devoted to tending to your every last need, the reasons as to why he did so could never quite stick.

You never asked him for any of this. He just assumed the role of your caretaker without batting an eye. It was obvious he cared about you, but still you had issues accepting his motivation for it.

Letting out a shaky breath, you spoke once again. “I just...I don’t understand why you want to so badly. It doesn’t make any sense, and―”

“I do it because I’m in love with you, isn’t it obvious?”

The playfulness in his questioning tone didn’t go unnoticed, but it still didn’t exactly calm all of your anxieties. At least, not until he continued with his speech, his actions following up with affirmations.

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hands wandered, mapping out the sensitivities of your body, starting where they rested near your chest.

“I have been since the moment I laid eyes on you, sweetheart…”

When his hands found purchase on your waist, tenderly squeezing the plush skin, you harshly sucked in a breath of air. He kneaded the tense muscles of your body, speaking low, but still sending shivers down your spine at it’s proximity.

“All of your little quirks, your gentleness, how delicate you are...You’re so impossibly perfect.”

Pausing, Koushi pressed a light kiss against your temple, “...Of course I want to take care of you.”

With each word spoken, every syllable filled with innate devotion, your mind of worrying thoughts surrendered to him. Not given much choice in the matter, and not wanting to choose any alternative if there was one, you let his admiration slowly consume you whole.

“I wanna make sure nobody can hurt you, make sure you get what you deserve…”

Koushi’s hands drifted lower, deft fingers lightly trailing your body, teasing touches only serving to stir another type of heat inside you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him cup your heat, middle finger gently pressing in between your folds.

“...And, that you get what you need.”

You softly whimpered as the pads of his fingers came into contact with your clit, the exhaustion you felt amplifying your sensitive nerves. Applying just the right amount of pressure, and in the perfect spot that had you yearning for more, Koushi skilfully circled the puffy nub.

He smiled to himself as you weakly squirmed in his hold, knowing that in your state, this was the finishing touch to his game. One that he’d been playing since the day he met you, and that now was about to reach its end. Where he’d finally have you right where he wanted you, and you’d both be happy for a long time to come.

Removing the pressure from his ministrations, he bowed his head so that his lips were just ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

Tears pricking in your eyes at the carnal desire you felt from even the slightest of touches, you found yourself near immediately calling for him, begging for his help without a hint of recollection from the memory that held resemblance.

“Please Koushi...I need you.”

With those small and desperate pleas, Koushi found that there was nothing he wanted to hear more in that moment. The desperation laced in your tone was the sweetest thing he’d ever listened to, and so he vowed to himself that he’d make you repeat those wanton admissions time and time again. As often as he needed them, and as often as you needed him. Which would be in your every waking second from now on, finally.

He couldn’t help but encourage you even more, the sound of your whimpers as his fingers worked you over being the most addictive drug.

“That’s it...I’ll give you everything you need. All you have to do is let me―you can do that, right?”

Only wanting to please him more, full body acceptance gripping your being, you responded by quickly nodding, incoherent words escaping you without thought.

Koushi could only laugh at your reaction, adorable in every sense. But, he wanted to hear you say it, ever the demanding one, and always wanting you to play by his rules.

Knowing you were teetering on the edge of release, his fingers slowed their pace, relenting to an achingly teasing method of feathered touches. He spoke one last question, something to finalize his long maintained agenda, goals set on crystallizing your reality for the both of you.

“Promise that you’ll let me care for you, no matter what.”

At his question, the only thing more powerful than the feelings burning inside of you from his sinfully skilled movements was how you felt about him.

The way he made you feel safe, even on the darkest of nights. How he wrapped you in an embrace that would snuff out the flames of self-doubt without fail, each and every time. He never missed a single thing about you, from the obvious outward traits, to the hidden emotions that suddenly didn’t seem like things you needed to conceal―not with him.

There wasn’t a single think about Koushi that you could bring yourself to hate.

Because right then, you loved him, just as much as he loved you.

Koushi felt like home. He was your home.

A home you never had until now. And one you never wanted to leave.

Resigning yourself to him completely, leaving not a single thing that would keep you from submitting to his passion, you held nothing back. Forever and always, you would give yourself up to him, content at the knowledge that you hadn’t a thing to fret over so as long as you were with him

“...I promise.”

[mikkomacko]

Toothpaste smears at the corners of his mouth as he scrubs the brush over his teeth, the white foam getting dangerously close to dripping down his chin. Y/n eyes his reflection in her bathroom mirror, swiping a cotton ball of toner over the bridge of her nose. Last minute, Harry leans over the sink and spits, turning the faucet on to rinse his mouth and messy chin.

"One of these days you're going to drip toothpaste on your toes and I'm not going to help you clean it." She says, now reaching for her night serum. Harry scoffs, towel pressed to his face as he turns to face her. He drops the cloth on the counter, wiggling his butt onto the countertop.

"I've been brushing my teeth for over 20 years. Know what m'doing." He argues, eyebrows furrowing as he watches her rub the moisturizer into her skin. He does that often when they get ready for bed together, watching her skincare routine as if he were going to be rigorously tested on it later. But he never comments on it other than the occasional "that smells good" or "made ya all soft" when he presses a kiss to her cheek.

She's always wondered why he's so interested in it and apparently tonight is the night she gets some answers.

"Have ya always used all that stuff darling?"

Surprised, her eyebrows raise just the slightest bit, but she does her best to remain casual when she speaks. "Started having like a real routine a few years ago."

Harry hums, reaching for the dropper she'd previously held in her hand. He squints, reading over the label as she takes a chance to prod more. "Why bub?"

Innocently, he peers up at her through his eyelashes. "Don't know," he shrugs, "just never knew so much went into cleaning ya face. Thought some people just have good skin and others have bad."

He then reaches for her moisturizer, reading that bottle too. "There's no good or bad skin" she responds, "for some people acne is more manageable. For others it requires more time and probably money too. And some people just don't want to mess with their spots or marks. It's all normal."

Placing the products back on the counter, he gently reaches up to run his thumb over the pink bow on her headband. "So ya don't think I have bad skin?"

His tone is neutral, but a little too forced for him and she realizes why he examines her so closely when she takes care of her skin.

She lets her gaze meet his. "No Harry you don't have bad skin." She says earnestly. "You have very pretty skin. Look at how shiny your cheekbones always are." Harry smiles softly when she cups his face, running the pad of her thumb over his natural highlight.

"I've got a lot of spots though." He argues, reaching up to take her hand in his. Y/n shrugs, resting her hip against the counter. She can finish in a sec, right now she needs to talk to her extremely adorable boyfriend.

"You breakout because you workout everyday and you don't really have a routine Harry. But that doesn't make you gross or bad or anything. It's just normal."

He hums again, chewing on his bottom lip and dropping his gaze to their hands. He looks...upset. A little sad about her words. Y/n squeezes his fingers, drawing his attention back to her face.

"If you want to you can use my stuff tonight and if you like it we'll get you some too?"

Immediately his eyes light up, lips spreading into a smile. "You'd do that with me? Like show me how and everything?"

Y/n giggles, her heart wanting to burst with love for the man in front of her. "Of course I would. Can even use my other headband."

"The one with the bunny ears?"

She nods, amused by his eagerness. "Okay." He says, rising from the counter and releasing her hand to dig through the drawer for her white bunny headband. She gets him a clean towel while he slips the cotton over his head, pushing it up his forehead so the ears rest just in front of the frizzy bun on his head.

While Harry lathers her cleanser into his face, paying special attention to his forehead and hairline, y/n rolls her jade stone over her face before cleaning it for Harry. She can't help but giggle at the way his face crinkles and pouts as he focuses, his tongue poking out of his mouth.

"M'being thorough." He mumbles, not even glancing at her. Once his face has been rinsed and dried, she instructs him to sit back on the countertop. Harry does so, excitement buzzing from him as she stands between his thighs.

He's watching her intently when she reaches for the toner and serum he loves so much, and she takes a moment to button their mouths together. Sometimes it's difficult for her to imagine this man in a boxing ring, fighting simply because he loves it. Harry gently takes a hold of her waist, tilting his chin up so she can better apply it to his face.

"The toner cleans your face a bit more and gets off extra dirt and stuff that the wash didn't get." She explains, swiping the cotton ball over every inch of his face. He hums his acknowledgement, trying not to move when she drips serum onto his cheeks and forehead.

"This moisturizes. It's the stuff that smells real good too." Harry fights back a small smile, a sluggish blink dulling his eyes. They still brim with happiness, but he looks peaceful, enjoying the feeling of her fingers massaging his cheeks and jaw. She wipes her hands off, reaching for the little tube next.

"This is pimple cream. You just put it on where you actually have noticeable pimples but only a bit or it'll burn and itch." She says, squeezing some on her pointer finger. Then she dabs it to his face, remaining gentle.

"Wha's next?" He finally questions, his accent thicker with sleepiness. Y/n smiles, adjusting the crooked headband on his forehead.

"Moisturizer. Then roller."

Harry's head lulls back when she applied the moisturizer to his face, rubbing small circles into his soft skin. His whole body has melted into a cooked noodle-like state, a lazy smile on his lips. Before he can fall asleep on the counter, y/n gently rolls the stone up his neck and under his jaw. His eyes flutter shut, a satisfied purr rumbling his chest when she rolls it over his cheeks and under his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep on me baby," she murmurs gently, rolling over his cheeks and under his eyes. He hums, smiling peacefully at the feeling of the massager.

"Didn't know it felt so relaxing," he whispers "no wonder you're also so sleepy after this."

She finishes with the bridge of his nose, sealing the process with a kiss to his nose. "You're so handsome Harry," she says after she's put the roller away. He blinks his eyes open, cheeks squished when she cups his face. "Spots or no spots I've never seen another man as beautiful as you."

A blush rises to his dimpled cheeks. "Thank you darling, I like when you call me beautiful."

"Yeah?"

Bashfully, he nods. "Makes me feel....soft. Or gentle ya know?"

She looks over his face, heart softening at the bunny ears on his head and the sleepiness of his eyes, and she thinks about he spends his life doing violent things but he's really just a teddy bear at heart. All he needed was for someone to love that side of him as well.

"I'll always tell you that you're beautiful." She promises, giggling when he pecks a few kisses to her jaw.

"Beautiful, but manly right?"

Snickering, she nods. "The manliest bub."

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟒.𝟓𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

Sunday, 12 July

Birds were chirping outside Y/N’s bedroom window, humming some sort of song that she now proclaimed to be her new favourite. Slowly, she blinked herself awake, yawning as she rubbed at her eyes, adjusting her eyes to the surrounding scenery. For a split second she completely forgot where she was. The room looked different, it didn’t smell of Bessie’s morning toastie and burnt bacon. No, her surroundings were a stark white in the early morning sun and the room smelled of freshly brewed coffee. However, that coffee couldn’t have been fresh, because the person beside her in bed didn’t seem to be very awake.

Y/N had turned over onto her back sometime that night, both arms bent above her head, nuzzling into the quilt Harry had laid over her along with his duvet. Breathing calmly, looking utterly content, Harry was on his stomach, one arm under his head while the other was lazily draped over her stomach, his thumb resting dangerously close to her left breast. He looked peaceful, tips of his dark curls given the colour of fresh honey in the lazy sunbeams shining through the open window, he must’ve opened it and the blinds when he woke up to report earlier.

He opened his eyes slowly, as if he could sense that she wasn’t asleep any longer, meeting her eyes right away. The green of his pupils looked like the moors outside, just as pretty, just as full of promise for opportunities and adventure.

“Morning,” she croaked, yawning again as she rubbed her eyes.

“Did my alarms wake you up at all?” he asked, voice hoarse with sleep still, though Y/N knew he had been up all of two, it not three times already.

“Nope,” she said, giving him a smile though her face was still swollen from a long night of sleep. “I haven’t slept that well in ages.”

“I didn’t wake you up?”

“No.”

“Not once?”

She giggled, looking at him as he slowly started to smile back at her. “No.”

“Promise?”

She laughed, turning on her side to face him. “Promise.”

“And you say you’re a light sleeper,” Harry huffed, removing his hand from where it rested on top of her. The lack of pressure on her ribcage felt strange all of a sudden.

“Did you make a coffee brew earlier?”

“Yeah, when I woke up at 6 to do the report.” Harry sat up, running his hands over his face. “I don’t usually go back to bed, but I kind of needed it this time around. Absolutely, blindingly knackered. Fuckin’ hell.”

“What’s the time?”

“Just past eight,” Harry answered, getting up from bed. “So, I might have to go report.”

“Go do that.”

“Figured out earlier that I have to change the bulbs soon, the ones in the lamp in the bell room.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Soon?”

“Coming week probably, just gotta drive down to Pendeen or Longships ‘cause I haven’t done this before and I’ll need a tutorial.” Harry got up from bed, running a hand through his already messy hair as he opened the window by the couch to let some air run through the tiny cottage. “Anyway, I’ll go and report.”

She watched as he strolled outside, already wearing his denim shorts and a Frankie Goes to Hollywood tee shirt to take on the new day. Y/N looked around the tidy house, smiling to herself as she again could hear the birds singing outside, bidding her good morning.

She got up, walking over to the bathroom to do her business, then she washed her face and looked through Harry’s stuff till she found some moisturiser right next to a small bottle of lube. Y/N did not want to even bloody think about the reason he’d bought that, not when he knew he had most likely used it with Emilia. She applied some moisturiser before putting it back where she found it, then walked right out and to his kitchen. First she made some tea, then she looked through his fridge to see what she could make for breakfast for the two of them. She found two eggs, cheese, and basil, along with some cherry tomatoes he had in a small bowl on the counter, and figured that would do for a great breakfast. As she was frying the omelette, she heard something that resembled a car motor in the distance. Walking over to the window above the dining table, Y/N saw a red Volvo driving up the road to the lighthouse. Thinking they were there for Harry and he couldn’t come to greet them right then because he was busy, Y/N slid the tomato omelette onto a plate, cut it in half, put the other half on another plate, and then walked over to the front door, unlocking it just in time to see Grace emerging from the car.

“Hello, Y/N!” Uncle Tim called, grinning at her while giving a slight wave. “Alright?”

“Y/N!” Grace exclaimed, running over to where she stood and throwing her arms around her. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hiya, you,” Y/N smiled, giving uncle Time a wave before placing her hand on top of Grace’s head. She was wearing the pink and red headband Y/N had given her.

“Just droppin’ Gracie off, is Harry here?”

“Lighthouse.”

“Ah,” uncle Tim nodded. “Tell him to drive her back to the farm later, yeah?”

“Will do.”

And with that, Uncle Tim drove off, leaving Y/N and Grace to be alone for the time being. Grace walked around Y/N and into the house, and Y/N followed her, closing the door behind them. Grace walked up to the two breakfast plates, eyes growing wide before she looked back to Y/N, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is that for me?”

Y/N’s first instinct was to tell Grace that it wasn’t, that she had originally planned for her and Harry to have breakfast alone together, but the little girl looked so happy at the prospect of food that Y/N could simply not take that joy away from her with a simple and curt ‘no’.

“If you want it,” Y/N said, grinning as Grace squealed and took a plate, running over to sit by the dining table. Y/N took her plate and brought some cutlery for herself, putting it down on the table beside her own plate. “Tea or water?”

“Water, please,” Grace said, eating some of her omelette. Y/N poured Grace a glass of water before making a cup of tea for herself, then walked over to the table and sat down, eager to finally have some proper food in her system and not just half the cucumber she had eaten the night before.

“I thought you were vegetarian,” Grace said, licking some of the yolk off from around her lips.

“I am,” Y/N answered, sitting back in her chair before taking a piece of the apple she cut, biting into it. “Why?”

“You’re eating eggs.”

Y/N looked down at her plate, suddenly realising that Grace was very right. She was eating eggs, which she hadn’t thought of till now might not be a vegetarian food choice. Quickly, Y/N reached for her phone, going onto Google and doing a search as Grace watched in anticipation. Small giggles could be heard from the other side of the table, Y/N stuck her nose out at Grace. While reading, Y/N realised if an egg was not fertilised and never going to become an animal, it would be considered vegetarian and thought of as an animal byproduct along with milk and butter. However, Y/N wasn’t about to tell a seven-year-old that.

“It is considered vegetarian,” Y/N said, turning the phone around so her little friend could see, though it was clear Grace did not know what Y/N was showing her.

“Nay was worried,” Grace giggled, taking another bite out of the omelette.

Y/N put her phone away, furrowing her brows lightly. “What you mean?”

Grace shrugged her shoulders before she used both her hands to sip her water some. “Nanay did some research when we found out you were vegetarian, so she started listing all these things that you could eat and the things you couldn’t, and eggs were one of them on some website and not on others.”

“Jessa did research on vegetarianism?” Though Y/N knew Jessa had, she hadn’t realised just how thorough of a job Harry’s stepmother had done.

“Yeah, she didn’t want you to eat something that you didn’t want to eat,” Grace explained. “I like everything. I eat everything.”

Y/N laughed, shoving the rest of the piece into her mouth just as the door into the cottage opened and Harry stepped inside. He took his shoes off, stopping at the sight of Grace and giving her a huge grin.

“Forgot you were spending the day,” he said, walking over to nick some of the tea Y/N had made earlier.

“You forgot about me?” Grace asked, clearly offended.

“No, Gracie, it was a joke.” Harry brought the piano chair over to the dining table so he could sit down with them. “I need to mow the lawn today.”

Grace’s eyes grew wide as if that made her realise something. Frantically, she looked from Y/N and back to Harry, repeating that a few times before swallowing the bite she’d just taken. “Does that mean I get to pick a big, big, big wildflower bouquet?”

Harry smiled. “Yes, if Y/N’s not busy she can help you.”

“Yay!” Grace got up from the table, running over to Y/N and taking her hand in hers. “Y/N, pleaseeee!”

Y/N chuckled some. “If you let me finish my tea, I’ll help you pick a massive bouquet, yeah?”

“Okay, I’ll go start!” Grace ran outside, appearing outside the kitchen window right away, grinning from ear to ear as she bent down and started picking. The two inside sat watching her for a little while, drinking their hot cuppas and taking life easy, not bothering to run around with Grace when they had been drinking the night before.

“She really likes you,” Harry suddenly said, voice low around the rim of his tea mug.

Y/N glanced over at him. “Does she?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “Thank you for picking flowers with her after this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I want to.”

Harry nodded, looking down into the dark liquid of his mug. “I, uhm… I thought quite a bit about that… that fight we had… The fight last night. I thought about it this morning.”

For some reason, Y/N felt a sinking feeling inside her chest. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I… I wanted to apologise again.”

“Harry, you don’t have to-“

“-No, I see where you were coming from now. I know what it might look like to you, and, yeah, me walking off with her like that must’ve had you look like a right plonker.”

She nodded, sipping her tea some. “Not a great feeling, no.”

“It’s just… It’s kind of like… she’s part of…” Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s complicated. Emilia and I, everything there.”

Y/N stayed silent for a minute, eyes on her empty plate. “You obviously have history, I’m not trying to erase that or hurt you in any way, but I think she shouldn’t have done what she did at that beach knowing you had a girlfriend- a fake one,” she added as she saw Harry’s slight smile, he giggled at her. “And it didn’t look good when you walked off with her either. You’re always on about how believable we are, that didn’t exactly make us look like a strong couple.”

Harry pressed his lips together, a slight crease appearing between his brows. “You’re right, it was stupid of me to fight you after it as well.”

“It wasn’t stupid of you, Harry. If you feel strongly about something or if you don’t agree with what I’m saying or doing, you have every right to feel that way and tell me. But choose your battles, some are worth fighting and others aren’t.”

Harry smiled. “That one wasn’t?”

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to hide her slight smile.

“Yeah, I’ll agree with you on that one. I shouldn’t be around Emilia, not like that, not after everything that happened.”

Y/N felt a sudden urge to ask him what exactly happened, why was she such a complicated part of his life? Why did he still feel so attached to her?

“Y/N!” Grace yelled from outside, looking through the kitchen window at the two of them. “Y/N, are you coming?!”

Harry and Y/N shared a look, Harry raising his eyebrows and letting go of a long sigh. She only shoved his shoulder playfully before sipping the rest of her tea and then walking outside to be with Grace. The little one was hunched down, humming along to a song that Y/N now recognised as the one Harry wrote, Saving Grace. It was just the melody she was singing to, but Y/N still remembered every single second of it.

“Did Harry tell you about the new flower that has started appearing around here?” Grace asked, already holding a colourful bouquet in her hands.

“Yeah, he mentioned it.”

“It’s this one,” Grace said, holding up a tiny purple blossom. “Bellflower.”

“That’s gorgeous, that is.” Y/N took the flower out of Grace’s hand to look at it a little more closely. It wasn’t spectacular, kind of resembled an open bluebell in a way, but Grace seemed incredibly excited about it. “What kind of flowers do you want in your bouquet then?”

“Every kind!” Grace sang. “I want it to be bigger than big!”

Y/N laughed. “Alright.”

Friday, 17 July

Vintage Divine had been packed. Though Y/N was glad they were getting customers and that tourists from a few towns over or holiday-goers were all visiting the shop and buying tons, it meant there were less things for Y/N to look at. Yes, she should not be spending a lot of time in shops when she was trying to save up money for when she would eventually have to go off to University, it was hard to stay away. Especially when she usually stood chatting to Florence for well over half an hour every time she was checking out.

With a new blouse in her tote bag and a pair of new sunglasses perched on her nose, Y/N strolled along The Terrace, basking in the afternoon sun. Seagulls were singing overhead and the sound and smell of the ocean had a calming effect on her, making her both drowsy and content. It had been a long day of studying at a café in town, getting there when it opened at 9 and staying till well past 6. So, when she arrived at the Inn, she didn’t even bother saying hi to Bessie whom she could hear singing along to a tune on the radio in the kitchen. Y/N walked straight up the stairs and to her room, rummaging through her tote bag to find her keys.

While looking down, she noticed something against the wooden floorboards that she was sure she had never seen before. Looking beyond her tote, she saw something lush, green, and otherwise colourful. Bluebells, sea pinks, hedgegrow cranesbills, and bellflowers. A bouquet. She opened her door and bent down, her sunlit room making it easier to properly make out the wildflowers. She put her tote away before she walked downstairs, saying a quick hi to Bessie as she filled a tall glass with some water, then disappearing upstairs to her room again. She put the flowers down on her desk and sat down, staring at them in the light of the afternoon sun, shining in the glistening water that was feeding them. By the state the flowers were in, Y/N assumed they must have been outside her room for at least an hour, maybe some more, because they were flaccid. Regardless, they looked so beautiful, fit so perfectly in her room, that it was hard to tear her eyes away from them in the end.

She quickly got up, studying herself in her mirror to make sure she looked alright. Though the many hours of studying were visible in the slight bags under her eyes, Y/N deemed herself presentable. She put on a dark green boxy high neck jumper over her white midi smock dress, retying her black Vans before she got her phone and keys, put them in one of the pockets in her jumper, then walked straight out of her room again. Bessie must have heard Y/N hurrying around upstairs, because she poked her head out of the kitchen, watching the younger woman jog down the stairs and out the Inn door.

Upon walking up the hill leading to the lighthouse, the first thing Y/N noticed was that there was another car out front. Beside Harry’s yellow van stood a smaller blue car, one Y/N had never seen before. The orange sun hung low on the horizon, indicating that sunset would soon shine its colourful gleam over Cornwall, and the lighthouse would therefore start blinking its light to help sailors on their way wherever they should want to go.

As she approached the house, the door into it opened, and though the strong winds of the Clodgy moors rarely managed to carry someone’s voice far enough to hear it at a great distance, Dax somehow managed to defy that. He stepped out onto the gravel, walking over to his car and opened the boot. On his way over he saw Y/N, grinning widely at the sight of her and waving enthusiastically.

“You alright?” he asked as she walked over to him.

“Yeah, and you?”

“Splendid, thanks.”

“Looking for treasure back here?” Y/N gestured at the boot.

Dax chuckled. “If by treasure you mean beer, then yes.”

She raised her eyebrows, smiling. “Oh?”

“We’re going Porthgwidden,” Dax explained. “Your boyfriend’s inside getting dressed, Amir’s chatting his ear off so you might want to save him.”

Y/N walked past Dax and toward the cottage, the door still open, carrying Amir’s voice all the way outside. She stopped in the hallway, dusting her shoes off a bit before stepping into the doorway that led to the living area. Harry stood by his dresser, his bare back to Y/N as he rummaged through one of his drawers. She was instantly taken back to the kamayan on the beach with his family, how he had run past her and Grace, and how his love handles and soft skin glistened in the glittering water. His shoulder blades worked as he reached for a tee shirt, taking it over his head and putting it on while Amir continued to talk, and somehow, seeing them along with the slight outline of his back muscles, made Y/N suck her bottom lip between her teeth, hypnotised by him.

“Y/N,” Amir suddenly said, making her look to her right where he sat on the sofa, shoes propped up on the coffee table in front of him.

Harry looked over his shoulder, meeting her eyes and his widening at the sight. He turned around, clearing his throat some as he tucked a ‘Safe sex’ Keith Herring tee shirt into his high wasted washed denim jeans. She gave him a smile before looking at Amir.

“What’s happening at Porthgwidden, then?” she asked, looking from one to the other.

“Nothing, really. Just gonna hang out for a bit, have a few pints.”

“You wanna come?” Harry asked, putting his black Converse on.

“I don’t wanna ruin time with the lads, though.”

Amir shook his head. “You’ll only ruin it if you don’t tag along.”

She chuckled. “Really?”

“I want you there.”

She was shocked to hear Harry say that for some reason. Her heart sped up at the thought of him maybe actually meaning that, but it slowed down as she reminded herself it was all for show. Amir was in the room with them and Dax might be overhearing the conversation, they had to be convincing, they had to be believable.

She forced herself to calm down, smile widening as she said, “Alright then, let’s go to the beach.”

Amir immediately started singing the Nicki Minaj song with the same lyrics, sliding past Y/N to go outside to Dax. Harry reached for a thin jacket that was hung over one of his dining chairs, slipping it on as he glanced about the room for his keys and phone, throwing a small brown leather rucksack on his back.

Y/N’s eyes drifted to her usual windowsill. She hadn’t been there in about two days because Harry had been busy running errands at Pendeen and Longships lighthouse, what he was doing there she didn’t know, but it must have been important. He had mentioned something about him changing the bulbs in the bell room sometime soon, maybe he was just getting a tutorial on how to do that. Because of his absence, she hadn’t bothered being there, seeing as it would also mean being there alone and she would much rather be here with Harry. She hadn’t noticed at first, but she saw something that looked like cushions in the windowsill along with two pillows in the same creamy white. It looked like an absolutely dreamy place to do her UCAT work now.

“Ready?” Harry asked, closing the window over the couch.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, stepping outside. “Also, I wanted to thank you for the bouquet.”

Harry met her eyes, surprised that she had come all this way just to say that. “Yeah?”

“They were beautiful.”

He bit his lips together as he locked the front door, she swore she could detect a small tremor to his voice as he said, “They reminded me of you.”

Y/N scoffed, making Harry turn around a little faster than he normally did. “You said that last time as well, when Grace was there.”

“I mean it, Y/N.”

“Let’s fucking go!” Dax called, Amir clapping his hands together as the two of them started down the gravel road. Too shocked and not really knowing what to do, Y/N turned around and started walking toward them. She did not know if Harry was just taking the piss as friends did or if he actually meant it. Regardless, it was making her head spin and she had no idea how to handle him.

The four of them strolled along Fore Street, talking merrily amongst themselves as they made their way to St Ives Bakery. Harry had previously mentioned how he worked there when he was younger so he could earn money to spend on Grace, and she understood why he would want to work there when they entered the shop. Pastries and everything else imaginable were displayed by the counter, the delicious smell of bread and carbs making Y/N’s mouth water. Since arriving, she hadn’t tried a Cornish pasty, something she was embarrassed to admit, but Harry already knew this. He pointed out the vegetarian options and asked her which once she wanted. Though she was a bit shocked he wanted to buy her a pasty, it was exactly the kind of thing she expected from Harry. He would give in if she told him she could buy one for herself, but Harry liked taking care of people. He liked to provide; seeing someone happy because of something he did could have him goofing around and giggling for hours. She therefore said yes, feeling something inside her chest heat up at the sight of Harry’s dimple showing.

Each with a pasty in hand, they walked to Porthgwidden, finding a place relatively close to shore where no one was sat. Most people around were seated at the Porthgwidden Beach Café, chattering loudly and drinking their way into the weekend. Dax plopped down into the sand, letting go of a huge sigh as he opened his beer and took a long swing.

“That’s fucking dangerous, that is,” Dax said, looking at his beer can.

“Good thing the Café is open still, you’ll finish that one in about-“ Amir looked at an imaginary clock on his wrist. “-A minute.”

“Can’t blame a man for devouring a cheeky beverage on a Friday afternoon.” Dax sipped some more beer as Y/N sat down beside him, Harry sitting down to her right. “Tastes like what you’d imagine happiness to taste like, you feel me?”

“More of a cider person myself,” Y/N said, removing some of the paper around her pasty so she could take a bite.

“Why didn’t you say anything, mate? Would’ve gotten you one on the way here!” Dax exclaimed. “I actually think I might have some cider in my car as well.”

She smiled at him. “Completely fine, hun. I appreciate you lot wanting me here in the first place.”

“Harry here wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t,” Amir said, as if it was a fact of life. “But we want you here as well.”

Y/N looked at Harry who was wearing the red heart shaped sunglasses she had given him a few weeks ago. She hadn’t even realised he brought them. Harry took a bite out of his pasty before he glanced at her, nodding toward her pasty as if ordering her to take a bite. She did.

“Was about to say a girlfriend of Harry’s is a girlfriend of ours, but I don’t think-“

“-No, she’s not,” Harry interrupted Dax after swallowing. “She is not.”

“Lad,” Dax laughed. “Just taking the piss.”

Harry rolled his eyes before meeting Y/N’s gaze again. “What’d you reckon?”

“It’s nice.”

“Yeah? We can get some again at a later time?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, her tummy experiencing a tickling sensation at the sound of his words. “It’s actually weird how I haven’t had a Cornish pasty till now.”

Amir gasped. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/N laughed. “I know.”

“I’ve literally told her countless times she needs to try one, but she ‘forgets to buy one’.” Harry shook his head some before opening his beer can, then reaching over for Y/N’s and opening hers as well, putting it back in the same place she’d placed it.

“You’re spending your summer in Cornwall, you’re over halfway through your stay, and you haven’t tried a Cornish pasty?” Dax tutted. “Doesn’t sit right with me, mate.”

“Hey! In my defence, I’ve been very busy.”

“You studied at a café today, could’ve gotten one,” Harry teased.

Y/N turned to look at him, mouth falling open. She hadn’t been at Harry’s today mostly for a change of scenery, to get out and do something different, be someplace new, but she hadn’t expected Harry to have thought about it. She hadn’t told him, so he must have come to the conclusion himself.

“Could’ve,” she said, looking at her pasty.

Harry nudged her shoulder, making their eyes meet again. He gave her a reassuring smile and nodded at her pasty, silently asking her to take another bite. She did, looking out over the ocean in front of them, the sky a deep orange and pink, soon to have a tinge of purple intermingling, keeping the horizon company till night would take over completely. Harry took his rucksack off, bringing his camera out before he stood up.

“Mate, if you don’t become a director,” Dax grinned.

“I’m good being a lighthouse keeper, thanks.”

“Imagine you directing a psychological thriller set in the 50s, following a married couple, yeah? Bear with me, crew,” Amir went on, holding his hands up before him as if he wanted everyone to envision what he was. “The husband’s got a dark secret, the wife doesn’t suspect anything-“

“-Great, how ‘bout you write that down as a possible book idea, I need footage right now of normal people. You know what that is, Amir?”

“I’m gonna write that idea down right away, actually. Gonna be a bloody bestseller, I’m tellin’ you,” Amir said, making Dax hold his pasty as he brought his phone out, typing away at the notes app. Harry stood watching his friend with his eyebrows raised, his eyes growing wider for each second he was left waiting. Y/N couldn’t hold her giggle back, bringing her hand over her mouth to muffle it, but Harry caught her. She only saw his smile as he brought the camera up to his eyes, zooming in on her as she laughed. As she swallowed her bite, she looked to Dax who only made a grimace at her, also fed up with how long it was taking Amir to write his book idea down. Completely unprompted, Dax brought Amir’s pasty to his lips, giving it a little kiss before he took a bite. Amir’s head immediately whipped in Dax’s direction.

“Are you mad, bruv?!” Amir exclaimed, ripping his pasty out of Dax’s hand. Y/N only laughed even more, but Amir was only watching Dax with mortification, offended and frankly disgusted. “That’s my pasty! You have your own!”

“Should’ve thought of that before you took a year off to write a book down in your notes app,” Dax said through his mouthful, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re off the trolley.” Amir put his feet in an awkward position, placing his pasty there. “Completely mental.”

“Love you too,” Dax said before taking a bite out of his pasty, then waving at Harry who now had the camera placed up to his eye.

“You’re supposed to pretend I’m not here,” Harry mumbled.

“No can do.” Dax swallowed his bite. “Impossible to pretend hunk of the century isn’t standing right in front of me.”

“Why are you like this?” Harry asked, slowly turning away from the group to get a shot of the beautiful sunset.

“I would say I’m a good friend, aren’t I? Complimenting you like that. Am I not, Y/N?” Dax asked, looking at her to his right.

“Compliments are important,” she agreed.

“And isn’t Harry the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?”

“Dax!-“

“-He might just be,” Y/N giggled.

Harry seemed to lose his footing some, because he fell backward, stumbling awkwardly till he got his balance back. Amir found this incredibly entertaining, clapping his hands together as he laughed at Harry who was now red-faced and very flustered. He blinked rapidly as his eyes landed on Y/N, then Dax, then Amir, then back at Y/N again. She tried not to look too much into it, it was probably just that Harry stepped funny and made a fool of himself, but part of her brain wanted to believe it was because of what she had said.

Harry sat down next to her again, putting his camera away before picking up his pasty. While looking out over the ocean before him, his eyelids fell a little lower over his eyes, relaxing completely as he took yet another bite of the baked good. Instead of making it obvious that she had a small crush on him, Y/N looked away, eyes falling to her pasty. She shoved the rest of it in her mouth before turning to focus on the conversation Dax and Amir were having.

It was nice to listen to them chat shit, because Y/N normally only heard gossip from Bessie’s ladies. Though she was sure this gang wouldn’t mind a little goss every now and again, it was nice to talk about nothing in particular. Dax complained how his beer was empty, Amir saying it was his fault for having quite literally downed it, but since the whole lot had drunk a considerable amount of their beverage, they decided that Dax and Amir should walk up to the café and get them a pint each. They took the pastry paper and empty cans with them and started up to the beach bar.

“Have you been to the Cornish Candy Shoppe then?” Harry suddenly asked after a short pause in conversation.

“Where’s that?”

“Fore Street.”

She scoffed. “Everything’s on bloody Fore Street.”

Harry laughed. “It’s easy to find stuff, though. You already know where Fore Street is.”

“But everything’s always on Fore Street.”

“If I told you another street name in St Ives, would you be able to tell me where that is?”

Y/N nodded. “Well, of course.”

“You’re confident.”

She giggled; Harry smiled. “I’ve been here for well over a month, I’d say I know my way around.”

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So…” Harry trailed off, looking out over the ocean in front of them. “So… you know this as well as you know your hometown?”

She studied him for a little while, her silence making him meet her eyes again. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, maybe. I… I don’t really think about Winchester that often anymore. Because I’m here, with you, and I don’t… I just don’t think about anything else besides or outside of that.”

He slowly opened his mouth and said, voice as light as a mumble, “You don’t think about anything else?”

She stared back at him, piece of her unsure of what part of her statement he was referring to. Whatever portion of that sentiment that anyone pointed out, she would have to say yes, because it was true. There was nothing else to her now than St Ives and the little life she had created for herself there. She was happy here, she was at peace here, she felt at home. Was there anything else to think about? To care about? Y/N did not think so. She knew that since she was happy now, there was no reason for her to focus on anything but that. Happiness was fleeting, just like everything else in life. It comes and it goes, just like waves crashing against shore, and just like night and day. You will simply not be happy every single day, or every single week even, at your worst. But happiness will come back, and it will feel as good, if not better, than all those times before. And right now, Y/N was happier than she had ever been. She simply did not want to focus on a time in her life when she had not been happy, what a waste of euphoria.

“Y/N, I…” Harry’s eyes flicked between hers, quickly examining her lips before glancing at her again. “I don’t think about anything else than… than this.”

She suddenly felt something thumb hard against her chest, realising that it was her heart having an insane and overwhelming sort of reaction to what Harry was saying. “This?”

“Us.” He moved a little closer. “Y-You.”

She felt like pinching herself. This did not seem real. Harry was not this close, he was not saying these lovely things, it did not make sense. But at the same time, it made perfect sense. Because she felt herself leaning toward him, drawn to him like she was supposed to be pressed up against him, and it felt right. There was a balance and peace that came over the world every time they touched.

“You think about me?” she asked, voice low so only they could hear.

She felt a breath hitch somewhere in her throat, incapable of forming any sort of coherent sentence as she felt his breath on her lips. Or was it an ocean breeze? Was it her wishful thinking? Was she just imagining this because she wanted it so bad?

“I…” His cheeks were a deep pink. “The question I asked you last Saturday…”

“What question?”

“If you’re staying. You never answered it.” A little pause ensued. “Are you?”

“Do you want me to?”

Harry’s eyes fell to her lips, his own parting as he tilted his head a little to the right, meeting her gaze again. She felt electric; static with anticipation, buzzing with silent what-ifs and pleads for him to answer her question. At first, she realised Harry was moving forward, not too fast for her not to realise what was going on, but fast enough for her to not be able to form any thoughts before it happened. He kissed her. A hard and urgent pressure that was soft against her lips, tingling in every single part of her being. It was like watching a lightning strike somewhere close by, the entire sky lighting up, and then, mere seconds later, feeling the effect of the electrical discharge all around her. The rumble of the ground you were standing on, the vibrations in the air around you, every hair on your body rising.

He detached his lips from hers, meeting her eyes for a second to see if she was okay with this. Y/N didn’t want to wait for him to do something again, so she leaned in, pressing her side against Harry’s as her lips landed on his again. Gently, Harry rested his hand on her neck, thumb caressing her jawline as he guided her mouth open wider for him. She felt herself breathe against him, a sigh of dreamy relief as his tongue met hers for only a second or two. The reverberation of a slight moan left Harry’s lips, his entire body relaxing completely as they dragged the kiss out. Defences down; feeling every single thing their bodies were going through as they kissed again. Y/N heard her heart thumping loudly in her ears, felt it in her chest, not believing what was actually going on. It seemed too good to be true. She was kissing Harry. He was kissing her. They were kissing.

He pulled away, opening his eyes ever so slightly as she did. He leaned into her again, placing a soft kiss to her temple that had every single future headache dissipate. Another kiss to her cheek that eradicated every single nightmare she had in the past and would ever have. Another to her jaw that took away all the pain of leaving her life behind in Hampshire, a kiss that made her realise it was the best decision she had ever made. Hope flowed from the tubercles of Harry’s lips and into her skin, sinking into each one of her cells, making a sort of sanguine feeling erupt throughout her body that made her dizzy with want, need, and delight. Kissing the side of her mouth, he met her eyes again, the tips of his fingers gracing the hair at the back of her head. He drew her to him again, kissing her lower lip so tenderly it felt like the petals of the flowers Harry had left outside her room earlier that same day. She never wanted to stop kissing him; she never wanted this to end, never wanted him to let go of her.

“Oi!” Dax laughed behind them. Harry sat up straight, detaching his lips immediately from Y/N’s. “Not in public, brothers! Fucking animals!”

Dax and Amir sat down where they had been seated before, Dax nudging Y/N to take the pint he had bought for her, asking her to give one of them to Harry. When she passed the beer to Harry, looking at him to try and meet his eyes, his were already fastened on the beer, and then the horizon in front of him. She felt her heart drop so fast it made her dizzy.

“Thought about getting some crisps, but they’re well expensive up there, aren’t they?” Amir said, sipping his pint. “Bleeding fuck, that’s nice.”

“Not worth it,” Dax agreed. “We should bring some next time, Harry can put them in his rucksack, can’t you, mate?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking down at his beer.

Y/N tried to catch Harry’s eye again, looking at him as the conversation around them continued on, but he didn’t look at her. She suddenly felt a little sick. Maybe she was overthinking all of this, maybe she was correct for thinking it, maybe this had been his plan all along. He must have only kissed her right here and right now to put on a show for Dax and Amir, to get the exact reaction they had just gotten.

“I just… I just thought it’d look good, you know? To kiss my girlfriend- my pretend girlfriend around other people just to underline that we are… you know…”

It hurt to think about those words, especially now. For a second there she thought he was genuinely kissing her because he wanted to. He was kissing her because he wanted her to stay and she was kissing him back because she was going to. If he wanted her to, she would. But it turned out to be just part of the game. It was just part of their little fake relationship, taking it a step further so Harry’s mates would believe them and what they had even more. After all, he kissed her cheek last time, kissing her lips would only make them believe them even more.

“Terraland on Sunday,” Dax said, clapping his hands together. “Who’s excited?”

“Who is riding in Harry’s van? The gang?” Amir asked. “’Cause I think Fatima was talking about driving her car as well, and, as her cousin, she allowed me shotgun.”

“You can still ride shotgun in Harry’s van, you’ve done it plenty,” Dax said.

“Yes, but I got a cousin pass. I don’t got cousin pass in Harry’s van. It’s a guaranteed shotgun.”

“How come Fatima is good looking, smart, and she’s got a driving license, and you got none of that?” Harry asked, making Dax howl with laughter.

“Just ‘cause we’re family doesn’t mean we’re the same person!” Amir exclaimed, a smile on his face like he knew Harry was just taking the piss. “Admit it, Haz, you think I’m good looking.”

“You are, but you don’t have a driving license.”

“Piss off!” Amir laughed, sipping his beer. “Besides, Y/N’s riding shotgun in Harry’s van, is she not?”

Y/N’s heart started beating faster than it should’ve

“Aw, mate!” Dax stuck his bottom lip out. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Y/N wanted to sip her beer, but she wouldn’t. She checked her pockets to make sure her phone and keys were there.

“Your girlfriend is getting a free shotgun pass?”

“Obviously,” Harry said, sounding as if it was a given that she was going to ride shotgun to Terraland. “Are you shocked?”

“Disappointed.”

Harry huffed, shaking his head.

“It’s been lovely, but I need to leave,” Y/N said as she stood, brushing sand off her white dress.

“Aw, what about your beer, babe?” Dax asked, looking up at her with big eyes as if he didn’t want her to leave. “I was only taking the mick, you can obviously ride shotgun.”

She smiled. “Nah, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Alright, mate, we’ll see you Sunday,” Amir smiled.

“Call if you want to talk to someone on the phone, yeah?” Harry said, she could see him almost reaching his hand up for hers but stopping himself when their eyes met.

“Will do,” she answered, giving him a small smile before she walked off.

“Bye!” Dax called and she gave him a wave before continuing on her way. She bit her bottom lip as she walked through the sand, the chatter from the Beach Café loud and the waves crashing against shore supposed to be calming. Walking up the same small hill where Harry had taken her hand last time, she felt the backs of her eyes starting to sting. She put her hands to each of her cheeks, dragging them down as she groaned a little to herself. How could she have been such a bloody fool? Of course, Harry didn’t feel the same about her. He had been clear about his intentions and goals since they started all of this, how could she have somehow done what she wasn’t supposed to in that time? How could she spend the rest of her summer with someone she was for sure going to fall in love with, knowing they were only pretending to love you back?

Reaching the top and the car park, she looked behind her at the boys. Harry was looking in her direction, elbows resting on his bent knees, his beer in one of his hands. At the sight, her stomach did a ridiculous dip she could only assume to be elation mixed with disappointment. She stopped, letting her arms fall to her side, staring at Harry as he stared after her. He turned his body a little more in her direction, as if making to walk after her, but she started walking off before he had a chance.

Sunday, 19 July

Y/N was wearing the same mint green bikini she had that time on the beach with Harry’s family. A pale pink oversized Hawaiian print shirt hung over her shoulders, the hem tucked into a pair of denim shorts, something she had cut herself after finding a pair of light washed jeans at Vintage Divine earlier that week. With her window open, she heard when the loud van came to a stop up front. As she looked at herself in the mirror, about to turn around to go look for herself, she heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N!”

Hearing him shout her name both made her insides tingle with delight and her heart hurt in a way it never had before. She walked over to the window, seeing his arm hang out the side of the car. He poked his head out, adjusting the heart shaped sunglasses on his nose as he looked through the door to the Inn, craning his neck as if he couldn’t see clearly.

“Zip it, Dax,” he hissed, taking his sunglasses off his nose to get a better look inside the Inn. “Alright, Bessie? Y/N there?”

“Oh, she’s upstairs still, want me to get her for you?”

“No, I can come up-“

“-I’ll be down in one,” Y/N called, making Harry look up at her right away. She gave him a slight wave, not knowing if a smile was too much after how they left it two days earlier. However, Harry smiled up at her again, holding her gaze till she closed the window and turned to put everything she needed in her bag. Inhaling hugely, she looked at herself in the mirror again, giving herself a nod as if to say she could do this. Meet Harry and be with Harry, pretend they were together when she secretly fancied him, act as if nothing had changed inside her. She could do this.

She put her tote on her shoulder, placing a pair of pink and big cat eye sunglasses on the top of her head before heading out the door.

“Hiya, Bess,” Y/N grinned as she came down the stairs. “Do you like these?” She pointed to her new sunglasses.

Bessie put her glasses on, and Barb who was standing beside her, quickly did the same. “They’re marvellous, dear! Did you get them at Vintage Divine?”

“I did. Saw them and thought they might’ve been something you would’ve worn in the 80s.” Y/N gestured at a photograph behind Bessie, a group of people on Porthminster Beach, someone who looked an awful lot like Bessie sitting in the middle with a pair of large red sunglasses on her face.

Bessie laughed. “I have a whole lot next door.”

“They’d suit you, darling,” Barb smiled.

“Anyway,” Y/N smiled back, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder. “I better head off. Terraland next, and all that.”

“Have fun!” Bessie called as Y/N stepped outside. Harry still sat with the window open, arm hanging out, watching Y/N as she glanced up at him again. He gave her a little smile, his sunglasses on his nose again. She heard knocks on the back window, and when she looked there, Dax, Ellie, Jo and Cameron were all seated there, waving enthusiastically.

“Y/N, mate!” Dax grinned.

Y/N waved just as enthusiastically back at them, her mouth agape and jumping some up and down before she ran to the other side of the car, getting ready to open the sliding doors to enter the back of the car. But Jo pointed to the seat in front of them, and, upon looking at it, Y/N realised Harry had reserved her the front seat as he promised. Though she was taken aback by this, she also reminded herself that it would look stupid if Harry wanted Y/N to sit in the back with his mates instead of up front with him. She despised that though she got to be close to him, it wasn’t the kind of closeness she wanted; it was intentional, but not on the basis of the kind of intentions she secretly hoped. She opened the door and sat in her seat, closing the door and putting her seatbelt on.

“Hi,” Harry said, but it was drowned in the loud greetings from the backseats.

“Hiya,” Y/N looked away from Harry and smiled at the passengers. “You alright?”

“Buzzing, this is gonna be exactly what we need,” Jo said.

“Also,” Ellie started as Harry started driving off, jolting the van more than Y/N thought would’ve been necessary. When she glanced at him, he was staring straight ahead, chewing on the inside of his cheek. She looked back at Ellie. “We should’ve told you Cam was coming, considering what happened last Saturday.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that again, Y/N,” Cameron said. “Hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” Y/N assured him. “It’s all good.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Dax said, crossing his arms as he glanced between Cameron and Y/N. “What’s this I haven’t heard of? Is it goss?”

“Nothing major, I just tried chattin’ up Y/N, but she’s obviously with Harry.”

Y/N suddenly felt something hot against her bare knee. Rough skin against hers, squeezing her lightly before he turned his hand around, palm facing upward in a silent and hopeful invitation. Glancing over at him, she saw him still staring straight ahead, on the main road that would lead out of St Ives, his hand now free of the gear stick for the time being. She slid her fingers slowly down his forearm, over the blue veins of his wrist, over the tough skin of his palm, and over his long and slender piano fingers. She pressed down on his hand, seeing how hers fit against his fingers, feeling how good and right this was. As she threaded her fingers through his, she felt her heart leap, growing warm and prickly all over as Harry wrapped his fingers over her hand. Their hands rested on her knee, Victim of Love by Elton John playing through the speakers as they settled against one another, sinking and relaxing into this familiar yet new sensation.

It didn’t seem like the others had even noticed this small and silent interaction between her and Harry. The chatter behind them continued on, unfazed by the falsified intimacy in the front seat. She bit at her bottom lip, reminding herself that Harry only acted like this to convince the rest, and if they just sat statically side by side, they might not be as believable as they were holding hands.

“Did Harry have a go at you for that, Cam?” Dax asked. “He’s the quietest bloke around, doesn’t make a fuss, but he’s very possessive, ain’t that right, big man?” Dax gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Fuck off, Dax.”

“See,” Dax said, a smile in his voice as he said, “Such a lovely geezer.”

“I reckon Cameron and Y/N could’ve made a decent couple if-“

“-Jo,” Harry said, voice darker than Y/N had ever heard it. “Absolutely not. Is it ‘piss Harry off’ day?”

“That’s what we call Sundays now,” Dax said, making everyone laugh. When Y/N glanced to her right, Harry was laughing as well, dimples deep and crinkles appearing in the red light from his sunglasses. Butterflies started fluttering their wings in her stomach, so Y/N quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks heat up at the sight of a happy Harry.

It took them 35 minutes to reach Terraland, and five of those were spent driving around the car park in search of Fatima’s white Mini. When they finally found it, Ellie started tapping her nail against the window, repeating her best friend’s name over and over again till Harry parked. Everyone got out of the car as Amir appeared from the Mini, raising his arms above his head.

“Let’s go, crew!” he called, banging his hands against his chest.

“Hi, lovelies,” Fatima smiled, helping Y/N out of the passenger seat. “Love that shirt.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“It’s well lush.”

Y/N hadn’t thought she’d ever hear that voice again. For some reason, she thought it would just have stayed on Porthgwidden Beach, never to come back in any shape or form. But when Y/N looked from Fatima and to her friend’s left, Emilia stood by the passenger side, wearing a cute and short green sundress, her long blonde hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. It took everything in Y/N to prevent her left eye from twitching.

“Hi,” Y/N said, closing the door behind her.

“Love your sunglasses as well,” Emilia continued. ��You’re a right fashion icon.”

“Flower,” Harry said from the other side of the car, knocking on the bonnet of the car to get her attention.

She blinked, taking a step backward to look over at Harry. Flower. He must’ve been talking to her – who else would he call by such a tender name? - but it didn’t feel real. When their eyes met though, he gave her a little smile, waving her over so they could walk to the entrance and get a ticket. Y/N gave Emilia and Fatima a polite smile before she walked around the front of the car and toward Harry.

“So,” Y/N started, voice low so they could talk in private. “Emilia is here.”

Harry looked behind them, obviously looking for his ex. “Guess so,” he said, staring ahead again. “Ellie mentioned Cameron asking if she could come.”

“Why?”

“They’re mates.”

“But is she friends with your friends?”

Harry chuckled some. “They’re friendly, they used to be together quite a lot, you know?”

“Being friendly and being friends are two very different things.”

Harry inhaled hugely, glancing at Y/N for a few seconds. “I know you don’t rate Emilia.”

“I try to stay neutral.”

“But you don’t know her.”

“Listen,” Y/N sighed. “I’ve told you this, but from what you’ve said about her-“

“-I know, I know.” Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his pink and yellow swimming shorts. “I get where you’re coming from now, but just… be nice. We don’t need to make this awkward.”

“I won’t make it awkward,” Y/N said, chinning up. “I will just put gasoline onto her fire if she tries to flirt with you in front of everyone.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, Y/N thought she could see a slight smile there.

“That’s what’ll make it awkward.”

Everyone bought their tickets and once they entered the park, they started straight for one of the pools. A row of palm trees stood on either side as they walked into the adventure park, the screams and rumble from roller coasters and other carousels sounded from everywhere around them along with the hum of pools and water around them, the smell of chlorine and fish and chips in the air. It was a colourful park, Y/N noted, each rollercoaster a different colour and each ride with a long queue standing beside it. Kids ran around, their parents following them, and other gangs of people like the one she accompanied could be found every here and there. A Terraland Radio was playing across the speakers that were hidden away in the palm trees and bushes, some mainstream pop songs that Y/N only knew a few words to but recognised by melody.

Dax led the way to the pool they usually chilled by, finding a few free sunbeds on the second row closest to it, making everyone thank him one by one before sitting down. Harry and Y/N shared a parasol, because Y/N reckoned it would look odd otherwise. She took her shoes off, followed by her shirt and then her shorts. When she looked over in Harry’s direction, he was unbuttoning his own shirt, clumsily finding each button as his gaze rested on her, eyes on her thighs for a split second before he realised she was staring at him. Their eyes met and he looked away, blinking hastily as if he was knocking some sense into himself mentally. Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to read too much into anything because it wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

She rummaged through her bag and brought out her sunblock, putting some on each of her arms before she started smearing it on.

“Good call,” Fatima said, nodding at the sunblock bottle. “Also, what do you lot call sun lotion?”

“Sunscreen,” Jo said. “And that’s the only correct way of referring to it.”

“Sun lotion,” Fatima and Amir said at the same time, though Amir threw in a cheeky “you daft cow.”

“Sunblock,” Y/N chimed in, putting her foot on her sunbed so she could get it everywhere down her leg.

“Sunscreen,” Emilia exclaimed, letting out a groan afterwards. “It’s obviously the only right one.”

“Sunblock.” It was not as forcefully uttered as the one previous, but Y/N heard it reverberate throughout her entire body. “Gotta agree with Y/N,” Harry said.

“Well, obviously,” Amir laughed. “Or else he won’t be getting any later, yeah?”

“Mate, there you go again. You’re way too invested in other people’s sex life,” Harry said. “It’s creepy.”

“It’s ‘cause he’s not shaggin’ any at the moment.” Dax didn’t seem bothered as he took Amir’s sunblock, putting some on his own chest. “He’s deprived.”

Amir only wiggled his eyebrows at his two friends, making Dax furrow his brows at him. Y/N only chuckled as she finished covering her legs in the sunblock, she didn’t even get to think it herself before she heard a low, “Do you want me to do your back?” behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder at Harry who was standing just behind her under the parasol, a few white spots on his face after not smearing his sunblock properly. Giggling a little she nodded at his face, a smile erupted onto Harry’s face, his dimples deepening.

“What?”

“You’ve got…” She gestured at him.

“I’ve got?”

“Face.”

“I’ve got a face?”

She laughed, bringing her hand to her chest, leaning her head forward a bit and hearing Harry’s tiny giggles in her ear as he joined in.

“You’ve got sunblock on your face,” she elaborated, looking up at him again.

“Fix it.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that, but hearing his slight demand made a hot shiver run up her spine. Without hesitation, she reached up, dabbing the sunblock properly into his skin. She felt him watch her the entire time, his eyes not wavering from her face as she focused on his, smudging the rest of the sunblock down his nose and across his forehead. He reached up, wiping his thumb slowly across her cheek.

“What was that for?” she whispered.

“Sunblock,” Harry answered, but Y/N hadn’t put any on her face yet.

She swallowed thickly. “Can you do my back?”

Harry nodded, taking the bottle from Y/N before she turned around for him. She heard him put some onto his fingers before he touched her upper back. Placing the bottle on the round table attached to the parasol, Harry reached for the strap of her right shoulder, lifting it slightly to get his hand under it. It was instinct that took over when Y/N dug her nails into the palms of her hand, willing herself to calm down, nothing major was happening, he was just applying sunblock to her back. His warm hand stroked over her shoulder, thumb giving her a light caress before he placed her strap back onto her back, moving onto the next shoulder. Again, he lifted her bikini strap, stroking his hand slowly over her skin, making a swarm of butterflies fly wildly around in circles in her lower tummy, places that shouldn’t heat up were heating up. Y/N knew the effect of Harry’s hands on her were visible on her face, but she still prayed no one could tell.

She heard him put even more onto his fingers before he started working on her lower back. The tips of his fingers ran under the body of her bikini top, all the way from her side, over her back, and to the other side. She felt herself inhale, startled in the best way possible to feel him there. He halted, she was sure he was looking up at her; lips parted, eyes hooded. But he continued on, his hands moving down her back. When he reached her bikini bottoms, he was sure not to be disrespectful when he ran his fingertips under the hem as to get every possible surface that could be exposed to the sun today. Another wave of heat ran over her.

“Done,” he said, and Y/N quickly stepped away.

“Want me to do yours?”

Harry nodded and turned around. Y/N sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she put sunblock directly into Harry’s back, watching it stick to his tanned and freckled skin. Putting the bottle away, she smeared each of her hands along his shoulders and shoulder blades, taking her time to both make sure he was fully covered but also because she would never be this up close and personal with him again. She had to be near him now that she had the opportunity to.

She heard a whistle to their left, Jo standing there and raising their eyebrows at them. “Alright, alright, you two.”

Y/N only laughed it off and Harry stayed silent, but she could see a slight pink shade to his neck that hadn’t been there before. She ran her hands over his love handles, taking in how soft they were, and how all of him was just that. Soft. It felt good touching him and she wanted to touch him forever.

She stepped away when she was done, smearing the sunblock left on her hands down her stomach before she put the bottle away. Harry checked his phone, answering a text from Jessa as Y/N sat down on the sunbed, looking over at Fatima who was helping Ellie apply sunblock onto her back.

“Flower,” Harry said, making her heart lurch. “What’re you doing Friday August 7th?”

“Dunno.”

“Would you come to this ‘end of summer’ gathering at the farm?”

She smiled, nodding her head at him and he smiled back, typing away a text before putting his phone away.

Harry turned to Y/N. “Right, the sunblock needs to dry off-“

“-Harry, do you wanna take the Mammoth?” Emilia walked over to them, looking so gorgeous in her red swimming suit that Y/N felt ill. “I remember it’s the only one you’ll actually take ‘cause it’s not so fast.”

“I, uhm…” Harry glanced at Y/N, then at Emilia again. “My sunblock needs to dry some before I can do anything.”

“Alright, but we can take it once it’s dried?” Emilia grinned.

Harry met Y/N’s eyes. “You in?”

Y/N pursed her lips as she pretended to think about it. “Yeah, alright.”

Harry looked to Emilia again, giving her a friendly smile. “I’m just gonna hang here for a bit, we can get the whole lot to go on the water coaster.”

“One’s gotta stay behind with everyone’s stuff, though,” Y/N pointed out.

“Yeah, but that won’t be you,” Harry said. “I might have a panic attack; I need you there.”

Y/N scrunched up her nose as if she didn’t believe Harry, but he only raised his eyebrows, silently daring her to oppose him.

“Fine, we’ll ask someone else to stay behind.”

“Great,” Emilia said before walking off.

Y/N couldn’t help her slight scoff, a breath of a laughter escaping through her nose as she tried to fight a smile to spread across her lips.

“What?” Harry asked, sitting down in his sunbed.

“She’s trying so hard to get close to you. She obviously wants you alone.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, as if he was examining that whole moment all over again. “Getting me alone won’t change anything.”

Y/N glanced at him. “Oh?”

They held each other’s gaze, Harry’s dimples deepening with each second passing. “You act unbothered, but you’re very nosey.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. “Harry!”

He giggled, looking straight ahead at the pool where Dax was diving headfirst, Cameron stood clapping on the side, cheering him on. For a minute or two, none of them said anything, both relaxing in the cooling shade of the orange parasol.

“So,” Y/N started, Harry’s eyes falling on her as she continued to watch their friends play in the pool. “Are you gonna go on the water coaster? Didn’t think you liked roller coasters.”

“I don’t,” Harry answered truthfully, putting a hand behind his head as he leaned back against the sunbed. “But… are you gonna go?”

“On the Mammoth?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Harry nodded. “Then I will, too.”

Y/N looked over at Harry, but quickly averted her eyes when she saw he was already looking. She detected a slight lift to the edges of his lips in her peripheral vision, but, for the sake of her own sanity, she tried to ignore it. Y/N watched as Ellie ran from her sunbed and to the rest of the gang, squealing as she cannonballed into the pool. Amir stood howling with laughter as Fatima was once again soaked with chlorine where she sat on the side of the poolside, gasping and cursing Ellie once her friend returned to the surface. 

With her eyebrows raised, Y/N glanced at Harry again, but he didn’t seem to know what she was getting at till she stood up from the sunbed. She ran for the pool, weaving through people to get to their friends. Just as she was about to jump, she felt something on her waist. She looked over her shoulder just in time to catch Harry, wrapping his arms around her torso and bringing her skin flush against his. She screamed as Harry threw her off her feet, turning the two around as he jumped, back first. A short scream was heard before the two disappeared together, floating in the crystal clear and blue water. She felt him let go of her, pushing her toward the surface. Once she was up again, swimming towards the side of the pool, she looked behind her just as Harry came up for air, shaking his head to get the water out of his hair.

“Twat,” she said.

Harry grinned, reaching for her ankle.

“No!”

He dragged her toward him, but she splashed him, preventing him from doing whatever he was about to. Quickly, she swam for the edge of the pool, jumping up to sit there as Harry followed her. She couldn’t help her smile, feeling so incredibly giddy to see him watching her, touching her, being with her. Never before had she just felt so happy by the mere presence of another; maybe something happened in the air around them when they were together, or maybe there was a special kind of cellular reaction when they touched, but Y/N never wanted this to end. She knew it was all pretend, knew he was only doing this to further this fake relationship, but she would bask in it till it was over. And when it was over in August, she’d deal with the heartbreak then.

Harry reached her, a hand wrapping around her ankle and squeezing lightly.

“No,” Y/N chuckled. “I’m ticklish.”

“I know.”

Harry put a hand on each side of her figure before he slowly got up, resting his soaking body against her legs. It was hard to fight her want to look down at his lips, knowing that right about now they were probably wet and pinker than she had ever seen them before. They hadn’t even talked about that kiss on the beach a few days ago, it didn’t feel like it had been acknowledged at all. In a way Y/N was glad it hadn’t come up because the conversation would most likely be very awkward, but she couldn’t go on like this. They had to set a few boundaries for the rest of the summer, and though they were getting very comfortable around each other like best friends did, she couldn’t be kissing him. She just couldn’t. Because her head and her heart were telling her two very different things, and she knew for certain that if he were to kiss her again, she would fall in love with him. That was if she wasn’t well on the way to doing that already. But kissing him didn’t exactly help her from not feeling these kinds of things for him.

However, when Harry’s eyes scanned her lips and sucked his own into his mouth and between his teeth, Y/N suddenly forgot everything she had just been thinking about. He made it incredibly hard not to want to kiss him. With a sigh he pushed off and sat down beside her, watching as Dax jumped onto Jo’s back, trying to wrestle them under water.

After a little while, Y/N went back up to sunbathe, Fatima and Ellie joining her not long after that. Though Y/N knew she shouldn’t, she kept an eye on the pool where Harry, Cameron, Jo, Dax, Amir, and Emilia were all having fun. Emilia wasn’t touching up Harry, though Y/N did notice her looking over in his direction a little too often for it to be just a friend checking up on a friend. However, Emilia’s feelings were none of Y/N’s concern, and if she kept it to herself till Y/N and Harry “broke up” in August, then Y/N wouldn’t say anything. Well… she would be annoyed, but it all ultimately depended on what Harry wanted, so it was all out of her hands anyway.

Ellie and Jo stayed put as the rest went to go take the water coaster. It took them about 15 minutes to just stand in the queue and wait for their turn, but in that time, they divided the uneven group into a gang of three and another of four. Amir, Emilia, Harry, and Y/N would be in one while Fatima, Cameron, and Dax would take the other. This proved to not be the craziest of rides seeing as loads of kids and their parents were in the queue with the group, but Y/N hadn’t taken too many roller coasters in her life, so she appreciated the easing in. And, once it was finally their turn, Y/N found herself having an amazing time. Looking over at Harry every once in a while, he didn’t seem to be as terrified as he claimed to be. The water splashed around them, and as they reached the pool at the end of the ride, Y/N fell off the inflatable boat. Harry laughed but followed her, making sure she was alright before the two of them swam to the edge of the pool

The two of them went back to their sunbeds after that, letting Ellie and Jo run and join the rest of the group while they took the SuperSplash. Though Y/N was sure she would quite like the SuperSplash, she also knew Harry wasn’t the biggest fan of rollercoasters and she was here because of him. The two just sat there in silence for the next half an hour and some, only occasionally exchanging a few words, but quickly and comfortably falling back into a pleasant quiet. At some point, Y/N almost dozed off, a small and sleepy moan leaving her lips as it usually did when she almost fell asleep. She heard a chuckle beside her and when she opened her eyes to look over at Harry, he was shaking with restrained laughter. She leaned over and swatted his bicep, making Harry laugh even more.

Everyone came back not too long after that and they all went for a snack. Harry and Y/N each got their fish and chips – just chips for Y/N - walking back to their sunbeds to eat because Harry needed to inject insulin before he could start eating.

Ellie sat down with Y/N on Y/N’s sunbed so the two of them could have a chat while eating. Y/N noticed how Harry was stood beside her sunbed all of a sudden, talking to Fatima who laid sunbathing still, and when Y/N glanced to Harry’s sunbed, Emilia was sitting at the edge of it, chatting to Cameron who was on the sunbed beside Harry’s. She hated that she felt like laughing, a stupid sort of victorious feeling erupting in her chest.

With their bellies full and ready for new adventures, Dax suggested some other rides that Harry didn’t want to tag along on. However, he assured Y/N it was fine if she wanted to, so she said yes, but regretted it the second Emilia volunteered to stay back with Harry. Y/N knew Harry didn’t need her to babysit him, he knew how to handle and talk to his ex, but she still hated the fact that the two of them were staying put while the rest went off to have fun. For the short minute they were on the water ride, Y/N forgot about Harry and Emilia, simply enjoying herself and laughing along with the rest of her new friends. But when they came back and Emilia was laughing, she sat beside Harry on his sunbed and was looking at him in a way that made Y/N’s stomach drop.

Harry must’ve heard Dax’s loud voice, because he got up from the sunbed and started walking toward them, not looking behind him.

“What’re we doing next?” he asked, looking at Y/N who hadn’t expected his eagerness to do another ride, but she appreciated it nevertheless.

“Sky Swinger,” Cameron said, giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, though Y/N could hear a reluctance in his voice that she didn’t think Cameron or anyone else really did. Dax must’ve, because he wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulder and they started walking in the direction of the Sky Swinger.

Y/N didn’t bother looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was sitting back to watch all their stuff along with Emilia, because, at this point, it was quite clear what Emilia wanted to do. It made Y/N so very mad that someone thought they could remove themselves completely from someone’s life because they were going through a hard time, and then expect to go back to how things used to be now that they weren’t as broken up anymore. Part of her wanted to give Emilia the benefit of the doubt, but she didn’t like how Harry’s ex was acting right now and, by the looks of Harry’s eagerness to get away from her, he was starting to maybe put two and two together as well.

“This, your sensor,” Y/N asked as they stood in the queue for the Sky Swinger. “It’s waterproof?”

“Yeah, or else I wouldn’t be here,” Harry gave her a little smile.

“Isn’t it hard to regulate your blood sugar when you’re running about like this?”

“Yeah, since I’m active it can drop quite quickly, but we just ate and I just injected, so I’ll be fine for the time being.”

Y/N nodded, dropping her voice some as she said. “I feel like I should know more about this.”

“About what?”

“Type 1 diabetes, any type, really.”

“You don’t have to.”

She met his eyes. “I want to. It’s a big part of your life so I want to understand, and it’s not your job to teach me how it works.”

He held her gaze for a second, about to say something when Dax chanted something, making everyone follow him to take their seats. There hadn’t been visible regret on Harry’s face till that very moment. Y/N sat down in a seat and Harry sat down in the one closest to her, looking over at Amir who took the seat in front of his. From previous experiences, Y/N knew Harry wasn’t afraid of heights, but by the looks of how nervous he was now, she suspected he might be afraid of losing control; of not being in total control.

Someone came to check if their belts were fastened properly, and again, Y/N glanced over at Harry who was staring straight ahead, wide-eyed.

“Hey,” Y/N said, catching Harry’s attention right away. “Look at me, yeah?”

He swallowed, holding onto the chain on either side of him.

“Just look at me.”

And as they took off, that was exactly what Harry did. He looked at Y/N, kept his eyes on her the entire time they were in the air. However much she wanted to reach over and comfort Harry, she was absolutely loving the entire ride. She was grinning from ear to ear, throwing her head back sometimes and just relishing in the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair, the warm summer air hitting her face at a comfortable pace, making it possible to see the orange afternoon sun. When she looked at Harry again, he was still staring at her, having taken her advice to look at her seriously. Part of her felt very giddy about that.

When they were done with the ride, Harry’s hands were shaking slightly so Y/N came over to help him with his seatbelt. He rose and fell against her, hugging her to him.

“Hey, you,” Y/N cooed, rubbing his back. “You’re okay.”

She felt him breathe against her neck, his hot skin flush against all of her own, and it took absolutely everything in her not to close her eyes and enjoy this moment like she usually would’ve. It was clear that, no matter how small the rollercoaster, Harry had not enjoyed that one bit. So, Y/N continued to rub his back, repeating “you’re okay” over and over till it seemed he believed her.

After that, the group dried off and started getting ready to head back to St Ives. Everyone exchanged different stories from the day, recreating stupid faces someone had made on a ride or sulking over other ones they didn’t get to but would have to save for next year. They started making their way back to the car park, Fatima strolling beside Y/N and Jo quickly joining in on the conversation. It felt so natural to be with them now that it seemed almost unreal that at some point she would not only have to break up with Harry, but in a way, she would have to break up with her little gang as well. She wouldn’t even get the proper opportunity to say goodbye to everyone, she would just have to leave. Out of all of them, it would be hardest to say goodbye to Harry, but his family, Bessie, the knitting club, and her new friends, would also take a lot out of her.

They all sat down in Harry or Fatima’s car, waving at each other as they drove off. Everyone was still excitedly chatting amongst themselves, going over each of the events of the day again, Dax talking and laughing the loudest out of everyone. Even Harry seemed to be continuously smiling, loving the atmosphere in the van. Though everyone was  tired, they were even more eager to talk for the little while they were still together, which made the volume in the car intolerable at times, but Y/N enjoyed herself nevertheless.

As Harry dropped more and more people off, Y/N quickly realised that the last person he would be driving back was her. The last 15 minutes were therefore spent trying to figure out how best to bring everything up, how to talk about the kiss and that she would appreciate them not kissing again. After all, if he kissed her one more time, it would only make her fall in love with him. That first kiss had been enough to make her realise that she did indeed fancy him, but since Harry was only doing this as part of their fake relationship, she wouldn’t be able to take it any longer.

Harry stopped outside the Inn, putting the car in park before he turned to look at her, giving her a small smile as the orange sun shone in on them, about to slide down over the horizon behind her.

“You liked Terraland?” Harry enquired, sitting back in his seat and turning his upper body in her direction.

“It was so much fun.”

“Yeah? You’d wanna do it again?”

Y/N smiled at him. “Don’t think we’d have the time to go there again before the summer ends, at least not all of us.”

Harry let out a slight huff, nodding his head some before putting the heart shaped sunglasses on the top of his head. “You’re right. We’ll have to do it again next summer.”

It took absolutely every single shred of self-control not to look away as she said, “You lot will have an absolute blast.”

It took two seconds before Harry caught on and understood what she was implying, and when he did, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but Y/N beat him to it.

“Harry, listen…” She inhaled, looking down at the gear stick between them. “We need to talk about what happened the other day.”

He blinked a few times before nodding, staying quiet because he knew her well enough to know she wasn’t done speaking.

“About… the beach, and the kiss, and… us- this.”

“Our relation- Our fake relationship.”

“Exactly.”

He nodded again, watching her intensely.

“As lovely as that kiss was… I don’t think we should do that again,” she said, trying to sound as considerate as possible. If Harry wanted them to kiss in front of their friends to further prove that they were “together”, then Y/N would feel bad about cancelling that plan of his. However, she had to do this.

“What…” Harry furrowed his brows some before he regained his composure. “What do you mean?”

“Well, uhm…” She met his eyes again. “I don’t want to kiss you.” Not like that.

Slowly, his lips parted, and he tipped his head to the side, as if properly contemplating her words. He glanced away from her, eyes on the beach behind her and then on the dashboard.

“Okay… I just… I thought…” Harry shut his mouth, shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “We weren’t clear on boundaries and such before we even started, we didn’t set any rules.”

“But I didn’t do something you didn’t want me to today, right?” he asked, talking fast as if he was afraid of the answer. “At the water park?”

“No.”

He nodded, placing his back against his seat and staring at the street in front of him. As he thought, his hands rested between his legs, thumb sliding over the other while he seemed to be contemplating everything that had happened the last few days. “You want rules then?”

She pressed her lips together as she regarded him. “Maybe. Just one.”

“No kissing?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“What about the party, Dax’s birthday?” Harry furrowed as he thought back on it. “When I kissed your cheek.”

“That’s fine, just… no kissing now. Especially not on the lips.” She tried to laugh a bit after that, but it sounded forced and not at all like herself. “They’ve seen it once now, so whatever happens we’ve done it once.”

Harry’s frown deepened and he looked over at her. “What, who's seen what?”

“Dax and Amir,” Y/N explained. “They saw us kiss. We kind of established what we set out to do, they believe us now.”

“Right,” Harry said, voice low as he looked at the road again, nodding slightly. “You’re right. We’re believable now.”

“Exactly.”

Harry inhaled, looking down at his hands. “There’s a barbeque at the farm next Saturday, if you wanna come.”

She smiled, watching him for a few more seconds before saying, “I thought there was gonna be a barbeque on August 7th?”

“That’s the ‘end of summer’ party where basically most of the people we are close to in St Ives are invited, I usually play some piano, and we eat loads of food, because Jessa likes feeding people.”

Y/N laughed; she saw a slight smile appear on Harry’s face as well. “Okay, so the ‘end of summer’ party is in two weeks, and barbeque next Saturday.”

“Yeah. And there will be no kisses on the menu. Sorry ‘bout that.”

She only smiled at him, waiting till he looked up at her before talking. “It’s okay, Harry. Let’s just… not kiss again, yeah?”

He nodded his head, biting his bottom lip. Y/N reached for her tote bag, putting it over her shoulder as she opened the passenger side door, giving Harry a grin when she was outside.

“Thanks for today, H.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

Y/N closed the door and walked in front of the car, standing by the entrance to the Inn when Harry pulled the car out of park and drove off a little faster than he normally would. She watched him till he was out of sight, feeling both happy that they wouldn’t do anything that could maybe make her fall harder for him, and sad that they wouldn’t at the same time. She wanted to kiss Harry. Wanted to kiss him so badly that she felt completely numb as the knowledge that she would never kiss him again washed over her. It was emptying her of everything but the memory of Harry’s lips against hers, his hand on her neck, their souls connecting, detaching, and reconnecting again with each peck, each stroke of their tongues, each frantic exhale. Instinctively, she reached up, resting her hand against her lips, hoping to find some traces of Harry there that she could hold onto when a time came where he wasn’t a physical reality of hers anymore.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 11 October, 9PM GMT!

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[some-dr-writings]

Kiibo helps Reader with burnt fingers wash their hair

·       You sighed in defeat waking up that morning. It was shower day, the day you’ve been dreading. But it had to be done. You could take care of most of yourself just fine, but your hair… it was rather difficult to care for it with only one hand, so you’d have to use your burnt fingers, not matter how much it hurt.

·       You glanced to the corner of the room, finding Kiibo was still shut off, recharging. Though you appreciated Kiibo helping you get your work done before your deadline, given your work became much more difficult with all the fingers of your right hand being burnt, it… it felt weird having him stay up all night with you, it was your work after all, but Kiibo insisted on helping, stating he’d could stay up for a full week without needing to recharge, which evidently was true. Sometimes you were jealous of him. He could recharge and not need to eat or shower, he could just keep going without needing to stop… or feel the pain of burnt fingers. Though he likely had other things to maintain in place of those you knew.

·       You winced, feeling the water pelt down on your burnt hand. You wondered how it still was so tender. Seeing your hand uncontrollably, lightly tremble you tried keeping it away from the water or walls or door or anything else.

·       On unsteady feet you leaned against the wall, exhaustion threatening to knock you out at any moment. With a yawn you mindlessly reached out for a shampoo bottle, only to yelp out, slipping and falling. You braced for impact, landing on your hands and arms. “Y/N!” You heard more than your name being called, but it was near impossible to make out what the words were amongst the crashing of water. Shakily you sat up, using your uninjured, though slightly stinging hand to shut off the water. “I-I’m okay, Kiibo!” “From that crashing sound to your shaking voice I have reason to believe otherwise!” “J-just tired. Go back to recharging.” “… I realize this may be strange to ask, but can I help in some way?” You clenched your teeth, feeling this pain course through your fingers. “I can handle it. Just have my hair left.” “But won’t that hurt? You told me how bad it was last time.” “Well… I don’t exactly have a choice if I wanna stay clean, now do I.” “…” You were just about to turn the water back on when an unexpected and confusing request was made of you. “Y/N come to the kitchen and bring your hair care supplies!” “… Huh?” “I’ll wash your hair!” Baffled, yet intrigued, you decided to go along with this. Not before quickly drying off and getting dressed that was.

·       Entering the kitchen, you found Kiibo had set up a chair before the kitchen sink. “Ah, so we’re trying this salon style.” “Yes! Just leave everything to me!” “But Kiibo… Do you know how to care for hair?” “… There are instructions on the bottles, right?” You chuckled as you took your seat, seeing Kiibo turn slightly sheepish at your question. “It’s simple, I’ll tell you.”

·       You leaned your head back into the sink. “Well, the first step is wetting the hair, and that’s already taken care of. Though we will have to rinse later and you’ll need some practice so nothing get’s in my eyes.” “What will happen if it gets into your eyes?” “It’ll sting, a lot.” “I see!” Seeing his slightly flustered yet determined expression made you smile. No matter what, Kiibo always tried his best in everything.

·       He first tested the kitchen spray hose away from you, wanting to see how much pressure it had. Then slowly pointed it towards you rewetting your damp hair. “First the shampoo, you massage that into the scalp.” He looked over the bottles, making sure he got the right one. “Oh, about the size of the palm of your hand is enough. It doesn’t take much.” “Alright. Is there anything I should know, any techniques?” “No, no, you just rub it in, nothing complicated.” At first his movements were hesitant and stiff, but he quickly relaxed, and he slowly worked higher and higher to the crown of your head. He kept glancing to your face making sure he didn’t accidentally get any shampoo near your eyes. It was pleasant hearing the soft foaming sound and feeling those metallic fingers massage into you. You’d think it’d hurt, but Kiibo used a light pressure and used the pads of his fingers, not the tips so with more surface the pressure was more spread out. He even occasionally asked if he was hurting you or not.

·       “Next we have the conditioner, that more so goes in the middle and lower part of the hair to help detangle it and make brushing easier.” “Oh! So that’s how you get the tiny knots out!” “Exactly. With a brush alone it just gets caught and tightens them.”

·       As he worked the conditioner in, he seemed to stop at some point. “I never realized how heavy hair could be when wet. Even without the shampoo and conditioner it’s rather hefty.” “Your hair is not the same?” “My hair is made of synthetic fibers and some metals. Thanks to some carefully placed magnets and a few other things, it can be styled and stay in place without need of hair products!” “Is that why your hair can stay in place even in the harshest of wind or never fall in rain, yet still gently move with the breeze?” “Yes! It can move a little but not much unless I want it too when styling.” “Huh… So what does it feel like? Human hair or something else?” “… Y/N that’s robophobic!” “Hey! Excuse me if I forget you can’t feel different textures! Actually… Can’t Iruma or Dr. Idabashi give you a function so you could feel stuff?” Kiibo was silent for a moment. “Let me guess, I’m still being robophobic.” Kiibo kneeled down beside you. “No. Not the last part, but it’s true that I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” You looked to him with sparkling eyes. “I get to pat Kiibo.” You eagerly pet his hair. “It’s so weird… and silky soft.” There was some resistance, you could pet it, but in general it could all stay in place, so any attempts at playfully ruffling his hair would be in vain. “It’s like… it reminds me of that feeling when you hold those really thin chained necklaces, it’s cool, and seems soft despite knowing it’s metal. Feels like that.”

·       “Now all that’s left is rinsing it all out.” “… Huh?” You couldn’t help but laugh seeing how baffled Kiibo was. “H-hey! Don’t laugh at me!” “Sorry, but that expression.” You managed to repress it to a chuckle before continuing to speak. “Just leaving it all in is not healthy. So we gotta wash it out.” “Okay. So… it’s like washing clothes? You put the soap in but also wash it out.” “Yeah, just like that!” “I understand.” Kiibo held the tips of your hair in one hand, the other the sprayer hose but something kept him from pressing the button. “… Uh, tell me if I get soap in your eyes. Those are very delicate, and I don’t want to be responsible for damaging them! You can’t be as easily repaired as me.” “I’ll scream. That should suffice.” He flinched, momentarily turning the hose on, startling himself. He slammed it back into it’s place, fearing accidentally turning it on again. “DON’T SCREAM! You’ll startle me and maybe things will just get worse!” “Alright, fine, I won’t. I’ll just tell you.” Kiibo sighed, crossing his arms. “Thank you. Now, back to washing.”

·       He gently ran his fingers through your hair, making sure he washed out every part. He was careful to avoid any knots, knowing pulling on hair could be especially painful. He was here to make life easier for you, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, you were getting enough of that from your fingers. Your hair absolutely fascinated him. It had this glossy shine even after washing the conditioner out. It reminded him of a waterfall how it just flowed down so prettily. Never before had he found something similar to it. It was soothing and almost fun going through it, though his anxiety spiked as he worked his way to the crown of your head faster than he had anticipated. He was very careful to not allow the water to get to your face.

·       “Now pat it down so we don’t get water on the floor. Then we just brush, and we’re done!” Kiibo did as told, drying your hair out enough for it to not drip everywhere. You scooched the chair forward so Kiibo could have enough room. “When brushing you need to start from the bottom. If you go from the top, you’ll just tighten the knots.” “That makes sense. I’ll start from the bottom then.” As he brushed, he used one hand to hold a higher part of your hair, hoping that could negate any accidental pulling, but… “Ow!” “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” “Kiibo, it’s alright. I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I am.” “Should I know of anything else?” “Uh… Nothing I can think of.” Hesitantly he went back to work, a part of him fearful of hurting you again. He carefully brushed through it, his nervousness soon subsiding. He found himself getting lost in detangling those knots and the soft sound of your hair getting combed through. When he reached your scalp he opted to brush through with his fingers, thinking the bristles of the brush may hurt you. It… was intriguing seeing his fingers part your hair, getting him to realize just how thin hairs were. It got him to wonder if he truly got all the knots out.

·       “Heh, having fun?” “Uh- Huh?” “You’ve been done for a while now, but you keep brushing.” His whole face flushed a bright pink and his face covering shot up, clamping over his mouth. “I, I, I-I, I’m just being thorough! I don’t want to mess up!” “Kiibo, there no need to be embarrassed.” “I’M NOT EMBARASED!” You could help but burst into laughter only making that blush on Kiibo darken to a bright red. “Well, then you don’t have to stop… it felt nice.” “It felt nice?” His embarrassed tone faded, intrigued by your words. “Yeah, like a kind of scalp massage, but not.” “Then allow me.” You hummed in delight, melting into his touch. You loved this. “Thank you, Kiibo. For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.” “I’m just glad to help. Now…” You looked to him in confusion feeling he had placed his hand on your shoulders. “I’ve heard shoulder massages are very relaxing. Relax, and let yourself fall asleep. You’ve been up for a week straight. We’ve gotten all your work done, you’ve taken care of yourself so there’s nothing left to tend to except for your energy, so, like everything else, allow me to assist with this.” “Kiibo, you’re too kind.” “… If that is the case, I don’t see what that has to do with this.” “… Well, you didn’t reject the compliment, so I’ll take it.” “Take what, exactly?” “Never mind. I’m just tired.” He smiled, seeing your eyes already starting to droop. “I’ll get started then.”

[joshslater]

Werehick

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I don’t know when it actually started. I had been aware of time slipping for me occasionally. I might have thought it was Sunday and it turned out to be Monday, but I had shrugged them off as a result of stress. The alternative would have been some mental disorder, and you really don’t want to go there in your self diagnosing. It wasn’t until after the “break in” it started to become a regular occurrence. A serious one as well. Best I knew I woke up Saturday morning to a trashed apartment. Well, not totally trashed, but a few items broken, lots of things moved around, empty beer cans on the floor, some money missing.

I was shocked I managed to sleep through whatever had transpired in my apartment, and a little scared to what could have happened, what could have been done to me. Perhaps something had been done to me? Perhaps that was why I slept through it all. I couldn’t figure out any reason for it. Sneak into someones apartment, at great risk, tranquilize the sleeping resident, and then throw a party. Did they use sleep gas, like they do when they rob truckers sleeping at truck stops?

It was when I decided to call the cops I got the chills. The phone said it was Monday morning. The whole weekend gone! I decided the police had to wait, as I hurried to work. I got there enough on time to not be suspicious, but obviously I spent the entire day thinking of little else. As a creative writer at an ad agency my hours are flexible, and as long as I deliver in time and at quality no one cares, but it would still be weird to not show up at all. But I barely managed to do anything useful while there. I felt tired, mentally drain, and sore in my muscles, as if the adrenaline of the morning had a lingering effect. Above all, questions and thoughts kept popping up. Do I need to change locks? Are there now drugs stashed in my apartment? Did they do something else to me? Is that why I feel funny? Do I need to schedule a doctors appointment? What would I say that wouldn’t lock me up?

Cleaning up in the apartment took less time than I had feared, and once done I realized there was even less for the police to do. What was the crime? Where was the evidence? As the days passed, it was almost like it hadn’t happened. Oh, how wrong I was.

A couple of weeks later it happened again, only this time I woke up wearing someone else’s clothes. It smelled like sweat and auto repair shop even before I opened my eyes, and I practically jumped out of bed when I looked at myself. A worn under armour hoodie, filthy, threadbare jeans, and workers boots, splattered with caked mud. There was a light brown outline on the sheets where my body had rubbed dust into the fabric.

I could feel my heard pounding, as I ran through the rooms of my apartment to see if anyone was still there. Only later did I realize I didn’t have a plan for what to do if I had found someone. As before the place was a mess, but I sensed more things were missing.

I rushed into the bathroom and started to rip off the clothes. I smelled like someone else, I looked like someone else, and I hated it. I felt violated, somehow. This wasn’t just drawing a dick with a sharpie on someone drunk. I threw the hoodie on the floor. I tried to pull off the boots, heel against toe, but it didn’t work. I almost felt trapped that I couldn’t just throw off all the shit that was on me. I sat down on the toilet and frantically tried to untie the knots on the boots. It for sure took longer than if I had been calm. It didn’t help that I saw dirt under my finger nails. Once the first boot was off I reeled back from the smell of stale foot juice. Someone else’s warm boot smell, and on my foot, a thick, grey sock. I yanked it off, fast as I could, and did the same on the other foot.

Though the end was near, I just felt more and more trapped. The jeans had a belt with a belt buckle large as my hand. I undid it, and undid the buttons. The worst for last. Under the jeans I wore a jockstrap. Not any of the sexualized neon-pink ones from a pride parade. No, some disgusting, once white jockstrap with a few blue and red lines on the waist band. I got out of the jeans, and then as quickly as possible pulled off the jockstrap and thew it in the heap with the other shit.

My heart was still racing, the room smelled of feet and sweat and diesel, and my sight was transfixed on the pile of clothes on the floor. It took probably a minute to calm down. I looked in the mirror. There was a clear dirt line where the hoodie ended and my neck started. Determined I walk out of the bathroom to the kitchen to get a plastic bag. I needed to put all of the clothes away before I started to shower. I shuddered to imagine what damp air would to do them and the smell they would give off.

It started out brownish and took a while until the water running into the shower drain was clear. Only then did I start with soap. One full body pass with hard soap and one with some liquid soap. Then two thorough shampooings and finally one pass conditioner, something I rarely use. But I felt like I needed it this time.

I wasn’t at all surprised to find that it was again Monday, not Saturday, when I checked my smartphone. I made a deal with my project manager on Slack to work from home. I needed to vacuum and wet wipe the entire apartment to get the dirt out, figure out what was missing, and try to figure out what the hell was going on.

Assessing the damage I could immediately see that my hunch of things missing was true. A few art pieces were gone, and most of my formal clothes as well. It was just bizarre. The state of my apartment didn’t make sense either. It didn’t look like someone had thrown a party, but rather as if they had squatted there. Rifled through my stuff like a burglar, but also lounged around, dragging dirt all over my carpets and furniture. I was trying to think back to the last time it happened, what was different from then. This was like a serial killer story on CSI. They keep getting bolder and bolder after each kill, at least in the show. Did this guy, whoever he was, think his method was perfected enough that he could come and go as he wished. Even mock me by dressing me up. Who knows when he’ll...

I dropped everything and checked my phone calendar. This was the last weekend of the month, and last time it had happened was also the last weekend of the month. I flipped back through the month in the calendar, desperately trying to remember anything about the previous times I had lost track of time. For all the ones I could remember anything about, they had all been the last weekend of the month. So that was his pattern. How had I not seen that before? All I needed was some go pro or something. Motion activated, long battery time. I was doing some of my best work in a long time that afternoon. “Perhaps you should work from home more often” my project lead told me on slack.

It was such a roller coaster of a day, I reflected, as I took my second shower. Despite having thrown away the clothes, that smell of sweat lingered. Probably my imagination, but I had also spent several hours scrubbing floors, so my body was sore all over. I felt like I’ve had quite a workout, which probably was true. As I let the water wash over me I was thinking of all the different places to put cameras in the apartment. I wanted as few as possible, for cost reasons of course, but have as wide and good coverage as possible, yet be hard to find.

Something had not gone according to plan. I had purchased the cameras well in advance, tried them out, and checked the footage. All great. I had put limits on my credit cards. Made backups of my computer. Hid away some of the more valuable items. Everything was set when I went to bed. I was nervous, sure, but fully expected to wake up with the face of my tormentor recorded. At least I had expected to wake up at home.

This looked like a scrap yard, and my bed had been a bunch of cut up cardboard boxes. It took some minutes to get my bearings. My entire body felt stiff. I must have slept here, in the cold, on the hard surface all night, and I didn’t have much clothes on either. A tattered T-shirt, just as distressed jeans, and a pair of OK jogging shoes. I smelled like I hadn’t showered all week. Looking to my left I could see a camera on a rack of junk, looking back at me. It might even be one of the ones I bought and hid. So much for that attempt.

As I got up to get it, I something more than just soreness, and looked again at myself. Since when was I this ripped? My arms were way larger than when I went to sleep. My work is sitting with a lap top, writing almost the same thing over and over. I don’t have veins that pops. There is nothing that bulges when I bend my arms. Apparently I do now. Even without a mirror I could tell the rest of the body had changed just as much as well. What the hell is going on?

I stood up and walked a step to the camera. Everything felt wrong. My center of gravity was somehow off. My pose was different. My gait was different. It’s like my newly gotten muscles forced me to move differently, or they would rub against my body, stopping them. The small camera was recording, but I had no means to view it here, wherever I was. I stopped it, grabbed it and started to look for an exit.

After a few minutes of random turns in the heaps of trash I found a clearing and an open gate. An older man in a neat, but worn, blue coverall sat in a plastic chair, reading some papers and drinking coffee from a cup of out of place fancy china.

- Kyle! Here this early? I didn’t even know you were here.

Kyle? Who is this man mistaking me for? No time to figure that out. I have no idea where I am, what time it is, or how to get home, and I need to get there before anyone gets suspicious.

- The early bird. What time is it anyway? - It’s 5... 48.

I thanked him and exited. Once outside of the gates I started to recognize where I were. This was the industrial park south-west of the city. Lots of small and medium companies have lots there. The other kind of “lots”. God, and I’m a copywriter. It would be almost an hour walk to get home from here. I started to pat my pockets to see if I had any money or anything on me, and almost jumped and yelped.

I have a monster cock. It’s huge! You don’t just suddenly grow a large penis in your twenties. Certainly not while sleeping through a weekend. I just realized that perhaps I was wrong there too. It could be a year later for all I knew. I might not even have an apartment to come back to. I found my keys in my right front pocket and some wrinkled cash in my left.

I managed to find a bus stop at the outskirts of the park, with a bus passing every 30 minutes according to the posted schedule. I reckoned that even if I had just missed a bus, it would still be faster to wait for the next. Thankfully it was deserted. People would be travelling to their work at this hour, and most would come by car anyway. So I got to stand there and be self conscious all by myself. What a crude and obscene sight I must be, perhaps less so out here with literal blue collar workers, but at least pushing it. I couldn’t wait to incinerate these tattered clothes, and scrub myself an hour in the shower to get rid of this stench of man and machine parts. I just realized I would be on public transport in this state. Perhaps walking would be preferable after all.

At that moment the bus just rounded the bend in the distance. It would be weird to not take it now. The bus came to a stop just in front of me, and two hispanic looking men stepped off at the rear and I stepped on. I picked up my wad of cash and asked the driver how much for a single to town center.

- Travel card or travel app only.

I didn’t move, trying to come up with something to convince him to take me anyway. Pay him personally perhaps.

- Just take a seat.

The bus took a depressing sight seeing tour of our declining manufacturing industries before heading back into town. I can see from the time, date and temperature a gas station sign that it is just Monday two days later from when I went to sleep. Whatever had happened, happened during those 72 or so hours. My normally noisy mind was quiet. I couldn’t come up with any explanation for what was going on. Some 24 minutes later, according to the bus clock, I was reasonably close to home to walk.

Predictably my home was in a mess when I opened the door. On the floor were pieces of smashed surveillance cameras mixed with dried dirt, ripped papers, shredded clothes and other parts of my life smashed to bits. At least my laptop was unharmed, sitting on the living room table. I would have to deal with the rest of the apartment later, but my immediate concern was the camera I brought with me. I connected a USB cable between it and the laptop, and the vendor app started automatically.

The software showed the final frame of the video, with me pressing the off button at the junkyard. Fuck, I looked terrible, and almost unrecognizably different. I clicked at the start of the progress bar and the image switched to an interior view of my apartment, from what I thought had been a clever place in the bookcase to hide the camera. Into view walked me, in only underwear. Was I sleepwalking? What was this? The me in the video looked like how I remembered myself from this Friday, but he walked “looser”, for lack of a better term. He, I, looked furious.

- What the fuck is this shit? Yo spying on me now, fucking lib? Making your own fucking government spy program?

He was holding another camera in his hand, and threw it at the wall, showering the room with cheap, Chinese plastic shards.

- Just typical of you people, ain’t it? Can’t stay out of honest folks lives. I’ll fucking show you then. All this bullshit has to go. “Ooooo! Look at mee! I type on a compuuuter for living!”

He spat a large glob of spit somewhere on the floor off camera.

- I’ll butt into your life then. See how you like that? I’ll show you what a real fucking american looks like.

And he reached out to the camera and pressed the off button. It instantly cut to almost complete darkness. He could just barely make out the outline of a man moving, illuminated by the far distant sodium light. The camera then did cuts after cuts, as the motion detection turned on and off recording. As I fast forwarded It became apparent this was the camera setup recording me as I was sleeping on a stack of cardboard.

I didn’t even watch to the end, but just threw the laptop on the table and looked around in disbelief. “Schizophrenic” was all I could think. That was the only explanation that made sense. Somehow I was switching between me and this douchebag on a set schedule. Or was that imagined also? What about the body? Did I imagine that? Or did I imagine my old body and this was the real one? No, schizophrenic isn’t the word. What’s the real medical one... Multiple Personality Disorder! That’s the one! Fuck! I’ve been off my game all morning. Did my mind change too, and not just the body?

I picked through the devastation of my home. Almost all of my clothes were gone, replaced with distressed and dirty clothes that looked like it belonged to a teenager, mechanic and/or farmer. Most of it off brand, but some fox racing and carhartt stuff looked almost new. Where was all this shit coming from? This time I didn’t just dump everything in a trash bag, but tried to sort through the mess. If this really was a Dr. Jekyll and Kyle situation, perhaps it was best to keep as much of this shit as possible, or he would just drag in more. All of my broken stuff had to go though.

As I got rid of the last torn book pages and shredded tie, I realized that I didn’t actually miss all my stuff. I was more upset with how I lost it. I was just about to head out for lunch when I saw myself in the mirror. I’d spent all morning in that shitty T-shirt, jeans and shoes without thinking about changing. Suddenly I felt dirty again. Damn him!

This time the surprise was that there wasn’t any surprise. I stepped out of the shoes and found I had no socks on me, which felt icky to me. As I started to pull down my jeans I found I didn’t have any underwear either. I stopped at the knees and was transfixed with what I saw. My dick and balls where probably twice my old size. The legs looked stronger than before. I undressed the last part of the jeans just with my legs, and could clearly hear them rip further. Then I grabbed the T-shirt and pulled it off in one motion, and got a good whiff of really strong body odor. The upper body was something else. I had abs. I had pecs. Not huge ones, but well defined. My body had never looked this good before, and probably never would if it had been only up to me. I spent a really long time cleaning myself in the shower. How the fuck was this possible?

Andy was the first one to say something, perhaps even the first one to recognize me.

- Wow! What the hell happened here?! - Morning Andy. Just some workout that paid off. - Bulk payment? Well, you look great. I like the hipster look.

I had washed a pair of carhartt pants and a plaid shirt, brushed some boots clean, and managed to dress close to what one of our art directors looked like, but with muscles. As much as I hated all the crap in my apartment, it did fit my body, and it would take both time and money to replace it all, so I gathered I would use what I could. There was no hiding this body anyway.

It was a weird day in many ways. In one way it was like I was a new employee, with looks and outright stares from women, and a few guys, I didn’t know very well. Some people I had barely talked to before, mostly quite fit men, chatted with me to assess if I would fit in their social circle. And those I worked with the most couldn’t stop giving remarks about my body, some flattering, some jokes, many subtly envious, and several hurtful in the line of meathead and jockywriter.

I was obviously self conscious all the time. Even when I didn’t have eyes glued on me, or remarks woven into every dialogue, I could feel my body in a way I had never done before. I couldn’t sit the same as before. My legs were different. My junk was way different. My arms rubbed against my body in a new way. I felt restless as soon as I begun a task. And above all it felt like all my talent had left the building. I was not being very productive.

It pretty much dragged on like that. Perhaps less with the staring and the remarks, but certainly with my confidence and performance at an all time low. It was self reinforcing. The worse I performed the more certain I was that this was my new peak. As good as it gets. I didn’t bother to buy any new clothes. It felt pointless. At least I was always showing up with clean clothes. I kind of had to, because after a day they stunk.

After two weeks Jared, my boss, took me aside for a lunch meeting in his office. I knew things were going piss poor, and that I hadn’t been upfront with him about it. I made the decision to tell him everything I knew. The lost times, the “break ins”, the abduction to the junk yard, the sudden body changes, and my theory of multiple personality disorder, despite it not explaining everything.

He didn’t say a word while I spoke, and carefully consumed his Vietnamese BBQ baguette, making the appearance of almost not listening at all. Once my story was up to date with the last few days. He was just silently nodding and remained quiet for too many seconds.

- Can I meet him? - Who? - Kyle.

I was surprised. Somehow I hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. I could never meet him, of course, but someone else could.

- When’s the next full moon? - The what? - The next time Kyle emerge? - Last weekend of the month. Week and a half from now. - We are way behind on cataloging. Boring and non-creative work, I know, but... you know... - Yeah, I know. - Well, you shouldn’t have any problems lifting the boxes at least.

It felt weird having my boss doing an all nighter binging Netflix content in my living room, while I was going to bed in the bedroom, but he was adamant he wanted to do this. So I fell asleep and strangely nothing appeared to be different when I woke up.

I quickly got dressed, blue jeans and fox racing shirt, and found Jared sleeping in my living room. It was 6:41 Monday morning according to my phone. Had he been here the whole weekend? I had a look around in the apartment. Some things had moved around, but it looked neat and clean enough.

- Hey... Hey Jared.. - Mmmmm - Hey, what happened?

Jared made a big yawn and sat up in the couch.

- Mmm. We certainly had too much to drink. - We? - You don’t feel it? I guess Kyle was right. - Right about what? - Well, it’s certainly more than just a mental thing, but we already knew that. I think I may have brokered a truce. - A truce? - Just trust me on this one. Don’t go to a doctor or anything. Keep his stuff in the apartment somewhere. - And me? What do I get.

Jared had a wry smile. Why was he so stingy with details?

- You get to be the message lead for our Chrysler commercial. - WHAT?! That’s huge. Wait... Why are you giving it to me? If someone asked a few days ago I would have said for sure I would be fired very soon. - I think you’ll do great. I’ll think you’ll manage to craft exactly the right message for heartland consumers. I have it from a good source that you’ll be just the right blend of creative writer and redneck for the job.

[melissa-the-writer]

‘Til Her Lungs Give Out

I wrote this a few weeks ago and asked my husband to read it... He didn’t so, I’m just going to post it without any other opinions than my own.

I like to think it’s pretty good as I am the one who wrote it but my opinion may be a little biased (I’m trying something new and being positive that my abilities as a writer are as good as others say)

There will be a trigger warning below in the notes/comments as I don’t want to give anything away and spoil the endling unless I have to.

Without further ado, please enjoy! 

He tried not to press her every time he came home. The dishes were never done, the bed never made, the floor never vacuumed, but he figured he would just do it himself. She had been going through a lot lately especially with having to look after the baby alone.

He had received a call from his mother today at lunch. He didn’t typically accept calls from anyone but his wife while at work but his mother had been texting him more frequently than usual as of late but he didn’t want to talk to her. He knew what she would say: she was concerned about Sarah and the baby.

“Mom, I promise you everything is fine.”

“I don’t trust her, Derek. I just don’t. I went through something like this before...”

“You’ve never trusted her. You’ve never liked her and now you are translating that onto her abilities as a parent. Just give it up.”

“Derek! I thought I taught you better than this! You are speaking to your mother.”

“…And you are talking about my wife. Just because you are my mother doesn’t mean you can disrespect me or my wife for that matter and expect us to give you our undying respect in return” He fought the urge to hang up on her then. She knew how to grate on his nerves. He knew she never approved of their relationship, to begin with.

She let out a long defeated sigh on the other end. He knew he had made a point and it had made it through her thick head. Derek: 1; mom: 0, he thought a smile tugging up at one side of his lips. 

“Just make sure you keep an eye on her, Derek. Sometimes she says she wishes she could run away! I wouldn't put it past her to just up and run away with your baby!”

“I trust my wife.” He said with finality. The one thing from her he was happy to accept in his gene pool: the ability to add a sound to a period just by changing his tone of voice. He did hang up this time without so much as a goodbye. He’d hear about that later whether from her or his father but couldn’t care less.

    He rounded the corner of their small, single-storey home and almost crashed into Sarah carrying Marie in her arms. Sarah looked drained especially compared to the smiling, gurgling 6-month-old cradled happily in her arms.

    "This child she screams from the time you leave to the time you return home." She complained, it almost sounded like a snarl. "Sometimes I just wish her lungs would give out. I'd finally have some peace."

    "You don't mean that." He said this but at the same time, looking at the harried expression on her face, he was scared she meant it.

   “Your mother called you today,” Sarah said, her voice piercing through his thoughts like a knife. Her voice had a sharpness to it, he was entering a conversation he didn’t know how would go. His only option was to approach it calmly and hope it didn’t escalate, especially with Sarah holding his daughter. As much as he trusted her, she could turn a little flippant at times and he did worry from time to time that she might take it out on poor, innocent Marie. Not deliberately by any means but Sarah wasn’t the most patient person in the world.

“Yes, she did. At lunch.”

“What did she say?” Sarah asked.

“Just asking about you. Asking about Marie. You know how she is, she just wants to keep caught up on everything going on.”

“She told you I’m a bad mother, again.” Her tone was short, clipped. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. She knew what his mother thought of her.

“She didn’t say that.” It wasn’t a lie. Just a bit of truth embellishing. Sarah cocked an eyebrow in response as he reached out and took Marie carefully from her arms. Sarah willingly handed her over and swept past him leaving the air frigid in her wake. He took his daughter over to the living area to play with her toys on the floor. He laid down on his side with his head cradled in his hand as he shook a rattle over her hearing pots and pans being torn from the cupboards in a flurry of anger and slammed down on the counters with an exceptional force. She was angry, but she was always angry. There was no escaping her wrath, anymore.

“Do you need any help, honey?” He asked half-heartedly as Marie giggled on the floor beside him. Sarah shot him a look from the kitchen and continued making dinner, her anger continuing into the evening, leaving him to walk on eggshells around her, waiting until the morning light to be able to slip back off to work.

The next time his mother called he was tempted to let it go to voicemail until he realized it would be a new level of low to screen phone calls from one’s own mother.

“Hello?”

“I was tempted to stop by and see how your wife is treating my grand-baby but I decided against it.” A “woe-is-me” tone didn’t so much as creep into her voice as much as it had been fully possessed by it like a wayward spirit on a rampage. “I assumed I’d be unwelcome.

“Mom…” He warned. He didn’t want to hear it today. Hell, he didn’t want to hear it tomorrow or the next day, either, for that matter.

“I know… I know… Just ignore me. It shouldn’t be that hard of a task.” He felt his eyes roll and his thumb hovered over the end call button. One more time, mom, he thought, give me a damn reason to press this button.

“Did you call Sarah the other day after our phone call?” The question had departed his mouth as suddenly as the thought had popped into his head.

“I did. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal to call my daughter-in-law and ask how my grand-baby is doing. I sure as Hell don’t hear anything else about her. No one would ever think to update--” The beep sounded, short and abrupt as his thumb stabbed at the button, cutting his mother’s screeching voice off as quick as it started. Is this what Sarah had to deal with when she called her up to bitch about something? If so, he sure as Hell owed his wife an apology when he got home. Maybe a bouquet of flowers. He took a mental note to stop off at the florist’s downtown to pick her up something on his way home.

“Roses, maybe?” He muttered to himself. Did she even like roses? He couldn’t help but notice how far they had grown apart since having Marie. He resolved to take notice a little bit more of their relationship, maybe that was the cure to what seemed to be wrong with Sarah, lately. “Daisies!” He almost shouted before clamping his teeth down on his tongue. That was it. He would be sure to bring her home some daisies.

He opened the door to their home, the bouquet clutched firmly in his left hand.

“Honey! I’m home!” He called out. Sarah shot him a dirty look from over her shoulder as she stormed through the kitchen working on preparing dinner. He realized what he had said had been mostly drowned out by the sound of Marie shrieking and wailing, strapped down in her high chair. 

He gently lay the daisies down on the table as he calmly shushed Marie. 

“I see she’s been giving you the ol’ run-around, today.” He said chuckling. She shot him another look over her shoulder. If looks could kill… He thought as he unbuckled his daughter from her chair. As he picked her up, his eyes drifted to Marie’s diaper swollen and dangling between her chubby thighs. His brow furrowed as he quickly glanced in Sarah’s direction, waiting for an explanation but none came. He opened his mouth to ask; to say something, but thought better of it.

Upon opening Marie’s diaper he was stunned. Feces were dried onto her little pink bottom so badly he had to scrub with the wipes until her behind was closer to a shade of red than pink. Blisters had broken out where excrement had been caked on worst and the diaper nearly exploded in his hand as he lifted it to toss in the nearby trash bin; his fingers sinking deep into the warm engorged gel confined on the inside of it.

Marie wailed and shrieked as he did his best to be gentle at the same time as being thorough. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes at the knowledge that his baby girl was being put through as much pain as she was at that time. How could Sarah have left her like this? He reached for the cream on the underside of the changing table when he noted it wasn’t there.

“Sarah? Honey? Where’s the diaper rash cream?”

“Which one? The one in the tube or the one in the tin?” She called back.

“Doesn’t matter. Whichever will work. Her bum is broken out something fierce.”

Sarah suddenly appeared behind him and held the little blue and white tube over his shoulder.

“Where was it?” He asked, more than a little shocked it wasn’t where it usually was kept. They tended to keep things rather tidy so they didn’t have moments where they had to search high and low for things needed for Marie.

“Oh, I needed it in the bathroom today.” She said. He let out a small sigh of relief. It had just been a fluke that Marie’s diaper had been as full as it was. He knew Sarah would never neglect her like this. What had he been thinking? He did his best to hold back the laughter, knowing Sarah would ask what was so funny. She loved Marie, she wouldn’t let something like this happen.

“Oh?” He asked, leaving his tone to be open, welcoming of an explanation as he slathered the white paste all to cover the rashes and sores, leaving no part of her backside uncovered.

“Yeah, I decided we should have a bath and I noticed her bum was a little red so I figured she might need some.” She stood behind him, picking invisible lint off the hem of her shirt. He glanced over his shoulder, letting the relief wash over him that his wife was properly caring for their daughter. She must’ve just gotten busy and hadn’t gotten the time to change her, that was all there was to it. He couldn’t expect her to be everywhere doing everything at once. He quickly slipped a fresh diaper under his daughter’s bottom, flipped the tabs up over the front waistband and swung her up into his arms, barraging her with kisses and tickles. Basking in the warmth of her little body and the sound of her giggles. This was true happiness the love he felt for his daughter and his wife.

As they entered the kitchen from Marie’s room, Sarah stopped at the table, scooping up the flowers and inhaling their scent as deeply as she could. Taking them in as he had taken in the familiar smell of his freshly changed baby.

“Oh, Derek! These are beautiful!” She gushed, burying her face deep into the bouquet. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. I just wanted you to know how much I love you.” He smiled at the joy on her face. The wife he knew was happy, once again.

“Thank you.” He could hear the sincerity in every ounce of those words and it filled him with warmth. She returned to the kitchen pulling out a vase and placing them just so in into it. The glisten of the water in the clear, crystal vase caught his eye, dancing around the stems of the daisies as Sarah placed the whole thing on the table in front of him and Marie and then returning to the stove to finish making up dinner. He stared long into the vase until he could feel the water in it, soaking into his shirt. He quickly looked down to see the Marie had burped up. As he reached for a napkin, a thought kept niggling at the back of his mind that it wasn’t milk that she had burped up on his shirt, but what looked like water. His eyes drifted up to his wife as she floated around the kitchen, the happiest woman in the world.

Derek decided to stop in and have lunch at home today. He didn’t tell Sarah; he figured it would be a nice surprise as he hadn’t come home for lunch in what was probably a little over a year. He slipped inside quietly, in hopes he could take his wife off-guard. Potentially catch her in some endearing mother-daughter moment of bonding between her and Marie. He loved catching little glimpses of their times, that warm feeling deep inside that they caused him. He peered over in the living room as he entered. They weren’t in there but there was a stray cushion that had been removed from the couch, resting beside the changing mat they kept in the room for quick changes when they didn’t want to go all the way to Marie’s room to give her a fresh bum.

He quietly tip-toed into the open room and picked up the cushion, setting it gently down on the couch swiping any loose dirt off of the surface of it. His brow furrowed at the small amount of wetness there, almost cool to the touch. Why would it be wet? Everything inside of him wanted to call out to Sarah. A simple shout of ‘Honey?’ but he refrained. Something ominous was in the air. Something he needed to know as much as his mind told him he didn’t; it begged him not to go any further. He continued into the kitchen to find Marie sitting alone at the table in her high chair. The poor little baby girl had fallen asleep sitting up. Her jaw was slack leaving her tiny lips parted just slightly, allowing a mouthful of whatever mushy orange food she had been being fed to ooze out, sliding down off her bottom lip. She looked like she had been so tired that Sarah hadn’t even gotten a bite swallowed before she had fallen asleep.

A sigh mixed with a chuckle tumble from the back of his throat. She was probably only gone for a few seconds to get a cloth or even to go to the bathroom and Marie must’ve crashed. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she returned not only to find their little girl asleep where she sat but also to find he had come home for lunch, too.

The feelings of dread began to settle and he slipped his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of the infant while he waited for Sarah. He was posting the picture to social media when the feelings started to return. He had been home for several minutes now and Sarah was still nowhere in sight.

As soon as he pressed ‘Post’, he slipped down the hall. The bathroom door was open and the light was off. The same was to be said about Marie’s room, where they kept all of their baby supplies, cloths included. So, where was Sarah?

He opened the door to their bedroom to find her tucked into their bed, sleeping away.

“What the Hell?” He shouted, hoping Sarah would hear. Hoping she would bounce up and give him a perfectly good explanation. But she didn’t. She lay sleeping soundly in front of him not moving. Not even stirring. Of all the things he had come home to this was by far the worse of it all. He stepped forward to shake her awake when he decided against it. He decided he should deal with their daughter first. The poor thing would wake up with a solid kink in the neck if left to sit there any longer.

Stopping into her room to grab a cloth and wet it in the bathroom on the way, he approached Marie as quietly as he could to not startle her. He quickly wiped the sweet potato smears off of her cheeks and lips and then tossed the cloth haphazardly on the table.

Picking her up from her high chair caused him a bit more grief than washing her up proved to be. She seemed oddly stiff and heavier than normal.

“Good God, you’re getting big!” He whispered as he finally managed to jimmy her out of her chair and place her on his shoulder.

As he approached her room, something hit him. She didn’t sit the same in his arms as she always had. She almost seemed colder. He swung her down off of his shoulder and looked at her face. His heart was beating in his ears and his stomach was somersaulting as he brought her little body to his face, resting her chest up against his ear, a motion that was almost ingrained into him from all the times he spent kissing and snuggling and tickling her. Nuzzling her belly button with his nose, breathing in the beautiful smell of her soap. The memories raced through his mind, flooding his head with them like a dam bursting forth.

    All at once, he stopped breathing as he realized hers had stopped altogether. In the silence that was the absence of breath, he heard his phone ding. He slipped it out, almost as if he was on auto-pilot and looked at the notification. His mother had liked his post.

[dragonshost]

May I humbly request some poly lucy x Juvia x Lisanna? It’s my new fave spiteship but also... gfs 🥺

Lucy stirred groggily from deep slumber, feeling incredibly hot and sweaty.  Her hair and underwear clung tightly to her like a second skin, and she was keenly aware of a depression on the mattress beside her indicating another presence on it.  “Ugh, Natsu,” she groaned, slapping her forearm against the form next to her.  “You’re too hot.  Get out of my bed...”  Really, the summer was too hot for this crap.  She was going to have to give her sheets a thorough wash now.

The form next to her groaned at the rude awakening, and despite the heat, Lucy felt every cell in her body frost over.

That was... too high pitched to be Natsu.  Not even if she’d hit him there.

Slowly, Lucy turned her head to face the other person, who was scowling back at her grumpily.

“Why did you hit Juvia, Lucy...?” complained Juvia.  Her mouth opened in a great yawn.  “What did Juvia do...?”

Looking at Juvia’s face - and at her largely bare state - hazy memories of the night before finally filtered their way into Lucy’s conscious mind.  Suddenly, she felt sweaty and sticky for a whole different reason.  She doubled down on the internal note to wash the sheets later.  “I’m sorry, Juvia,” she apologized.  “I wasn’t fully awake and my first instinct was that you were Natsu.  Did I hurt you?”

“Juvia is fine.”  The confused frown on the woman’s face only deepened.  “But is that... normal...?” she inquired.  Juvia rubbed her eyes with a fist.  “Why is Natsu crawling into your bed at night?”

“Because he’s a heat-seeking missile,” Lucy grumbled.  Somehow her best friend still managed to be irritating even when he wasn’t around.  Lucy gave Juvia a half-shrug.  “I dunno, he just does sometimes.”  The mysteries of how Natsu functioned were better left unsolved.

A giggle arose from Lucy’s kitchen, as the second guest in the apartment made her presence known.  The only fully clothed person in it, Lisanna was sporting Lucy’s light pink and hardly used apron as she added something to a frying pan.  “Natsu’s been like that ever since we were children,” she informed them, keeping a careful watch on the contents.  “One time when we were children, he came looking for me and mistakenly crawled into Mira’s bed and she beat the snot out of him.  Then he crawled into Elfman’s bed and nearly got crushed in a bear hug.  Natsu doesn’t mean anything by it though, I promise.”

Lucy smiled and inhaled deeply.  “Hmm.  I’ll take your word for it.  Whatever you’re making smells delicious, Lisanna.”

“Thank you.”  Lisanna flipped the contents of the frying pan.  “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your kitchen.  I woke up first and I thought we could all use a nice breakfast.”

“No, no,” Lucy hurriedly reassured her.  “I don’t mind at all.”  Especially after the previous nights... activities.  She was ravenous.  Although, Lucy was mildly curious about where the ingredients for it had come from.  Lucy rarely kept her apartment stocked, but if Lisanna and Juvia were going to be coming over more often, then she felt she should start.  “In fact, do this every day,” she suggested with a gleam in her eyes.

Lisanna turned slightly and winked at the celestial mage over her shoulder.  “If that’s an offer to move in...”

That thought had not occurred to Lucy before that moment, but she suddenly wanted it more than anything.  If she could wake up every morning to these two... well in her books that would be something pretty close to paradise.

A pout surfaced on Juvia’s face and she reached towards Lucy, clutching the gossamer-like sleeve of Lucy’s lingerie.  “Don’t leave Juvia out.”

Light laughter burst from Lucy’s chest.  “Maybe if I can find a bigger place.”  Then she patted the bed for emphasis.  “And a bigger mattress for the three of us.”  It had taken a bit of a beating the night before.

Juvia smiled smugly at the blonde woman.  “Lucy didn’t mind so much last night, though.”

With a snort, Lucy lightly shoved Juvia over.  Yelping, Juvia tumbled off the bed and hit the floor hard.  “I’m sorry, Juvia!” Lucy apologized, crawling over to the edge of the bed.  She peered down at her girlfriend.  “Are you alri-AHCK!!” she yelled as Juvia pulled Lucy down on top of her.

“Revenge!” declared Juvia, holding Lucy tightly to her body.  “Juvia wins!”

Giggles erupted from the pair of women.  “Actually, I think I do,” Lucy said, curling her arms around the water woman and staring into her bottomless blue eyes.  “I have the most wonderful girlfriends in the world, who I love more than anything else.”

“Even writing?” Juvia asked.  Before Lucy could answer, Juvia kissed her deeply.  After a moment, Juvia broke the kiss, pulling away and smiling up at Lucy.  “Juvia is joking.  Juvia wouldn’t ask Lucy to choose.”

Lucy pressed her forehead against Juvia’s, their noses brushing against each other with feather-lightness.  “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Reaching up with her hands, Juvia cupped Lucy’s face and tenderly stroked her cheeks.  “Everything,” she breathed.

The clink of plates on the table distracted them, causing them to look up. Steam rose from the plates and the mugs Lisanna had already placed down.  Lisanna herself hung up the apron on its hook, and gazed at the other two women with immense fondness. “Breakfast is served,” she said softly.  “And where is my good-morning kisses, hmm?”

Peeling herself off of Juvia, Lucy was the first to her feet.  She trotted over to the white-haired woman and threw herself into Lisanna’s arms.  Lucy placed a kiss upon her cheek, joined a moment later by Juvia on Lisanna’s other side.

“Good morning,” they told her, nuzzling her soft cheeks.  Juvia placed another butterfly kiss beneath her eye while Lucy claimed the corner of Lisanna’s mouth.

Lisanna laughed, the sound bright and wonderful to hear so early in the day.  She curled her arms tighter around her girls. “What a wonderful morning it is,” she said.  “Now let’s eat breakfast together.”

And a wonderful morning it indeed was and continued to be.

[nalgenewhore]

crossing lines - part three

TW: Drugs, Alcohol

Lorcan honked his horn before he realized he should probably actually walk up and knock on Elide’s door.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had strode up the stone pathway and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. There were big butterflies flapping around his gut and he hadn’t known it would be this nerve-wracking. It was Elide, for Hellas’ sake. His best friend. And nothing more.

He repeated it like a mantra, nothing more, nothing more, nothing more, as he raised his fist to rap on the door, but before he could, Elide was opening it and he was starstruck.

She looked… like a goddess.

Her hair was pulled back into a low bun, a string of silver pendants twisted in it. Her earrings were silver hoops and she wore matching rings on her slim fingers. Her face was bare save for a deep red lipstick that matched her dress and a sharp winged eyeliner.

He couldn’t find the words, just stood there, drinking her in until she punched his shoulder, “I said hello, are you even listening?” Her voice was confident, but she still shifted on her silver heels. “Can we go? Lorcan?”

“Y-Yeah, let’s, let’s go,” he stammered, unable to take his eyes off of her. “Sorry, it’s, you look amazing.”

Elide smiled, an easy and deep grin, “Thank you, now let’s go before my parents insist on photos.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Three hours later, they were ready to go. The cadre was sprawled over the bleachers, all eyes on the girls who still danced.

Lorcan watched Elide, dancing with Lysandra and Borte. Her back was to him and she glanced over her shoulder, like she could feel his stare. Lorcan angled his head to the door, indicating that the guys were ready to leave and go to Aelin’s, who was hosting the after party.

Elide nodded and turned back to her girls and soon enough, they were joining the boys as they stood and made their way around other students to the doors.

The sounds of not entirely sober chatting soon filled the air as people piled into cars, not caring that there weren’t enough seats. Lorcan climbed into his truck, the vehicle filled with teenagers ready to go absolutely wild for one last night in high school.

He saw Elide in the rear-view mirror sitting in the pickup bed with Fenrys and Nehemia, all three of them dissolving into fits of hysterical giggling. He grinned and started up the truck, following Rowan’s car as they drove to Aelin’s house, set on a sprawling piece of property in the middle of nowhere.

Lysandra was sitting next to him and smirked as his eyes kept sliding back to look at Elide in the mirror. “Oh, you are so fucked.”

He really was.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Rowan cheered as Lorcan sunk the last cup, the two of them leaning on each other as they lorded their win over Aelin and Elide. “Y’all friggin suck,” said Rowan, his voice sluggish from the various drinks he’d consumed.

Lorcan laughed, every movement more joyful after the blunt he’d smoked with Nesryn and Asterin. “We’re the fucking kings!”

Aelin flipped both of them off, the two girls still in all their finery, but they had both ditched their heels. “It’s not exactly fair, all you guys do is throw balls.” Elide cackled, tipping her head back.

The sweet smoke flowing through him made everything soft and warm and all he wanted to do right now was hold Elide. She was the best hugger. Lorcan picked up his cup and drank the remaining contents. When he put it down, his eyes met Elide’s and she exclaimed, “Let’s dance!”

Elide held her hand out for his and Lorcan grinned as he gladly accepted. She was quick to tug him to the living room, where every piece of furniture had been pushed to the side to make a large space in the middle.

The lights were turned off and there were flashing lights of pink, green, blue, and white over the walls. The bass pumped through the sound system and rocked the floor. He didn’t know what Elide was planning to do until she was pressed against his front and they were moving like they had been born to do this.

His hands found themselves gripping her hips, her dress bunching up in his fingers. Elide’s hand slid up around his neck, her fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her ass ground back into the cradle of his hips as they danced, the music washing over them and running through their veins.

Although that little, niggling voice in his head was telling him that this was wrong and they shouldn’t be doing this, Lorcan couldn’t walk away from this.

How could something be wrong if it felt like the most natural thing he’d ever done in his life?

Why shouldn’t they do this, if he’d never felt like this before?

Lorcan decided that he would deal with whatever came next, if he could just be with her like they were more than what they were just for now. Just for now, he would bare his soul and heart to her.

Just for now, he wouldn’t hide a thing.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The guys were splayed across the patio couches, passing a joint around, not really talking.

Their high school career was coming to an end and they were moving across the continent, away from each other. Fenrys had his head on the cushion next to Lorcan, his legs hanging off the arm of the couch. His eyes were barely open as he looked at Lorcan, smiling wickedly, “Did y’all happen to see a lil something something on the dance floor? Looking very heated with Ellie there, bud.”

The rest of the boys started cheering, heckling Lorcan as he took the joint from Connall and slowly dragged in a breath of the sweet and bitter smoke. He held it on his tongue, swirling it around before breathing in again and it flowed to his lungs. “Man, whatever, it’s not like it meant anything.”

Rowan sat up quickly, or as quickly as someone who was both drunk and high could, “Really? Cause I heard Ellie talking to Aelin and she was saying something about it.”

The back door opened and they fell silent, looking up to find Elide standing there, her eyes on Lorcan. She realized other people were here and blushed slightly, but Lorcan was sure it was from the drinks she’d had. “Oh, hey, guys. Y’all mind if I join?”

There was a chorus of ‘not at all, come on,’ and she let a small grin twist her lips. As she made her way to the couches, Vaughan was the first to stand, “I’m going in, anyone wanna join me?”

Connall and Rowan stood, understanding what Vaughan was saying. Fenrys stayed where he was and lazily blew out the smoke, giggling as he watched it twirl and curl. “Nah, man, I’m chillin’ like a villain, is all good.”

Connall sighed and then walked to where his twin was laying. Fenrys made a noise of protest when the joint was taken from him and passed to Elide and then he was being pulled up from the couch and dragged inside.

Elide chuckled and then it was just them.

The air felt colder and dry now, a sense of tension clouding over them. With an irritated sigh, Elide dropped into his lap, her legs slung over his.

They didn’t say a thing as she smoked and Lorcan trailed his fingers up and down the leg that was shown through the high slit of her dress.

She held the joint to his mouth, her fingers brushing against his lips as he sucked in some of the smoke, the tip glowing red. He kept his eyes on hers as he pushed it down into his lungs and held it there, shifting his head to breathe it out into the night.

Lorcan’s other hand came to rest on her waist and slowly, so slowly, Elide set the joint down and turned to him, their breaths mingling as they stared.

Everything moved in slow motion. Elide cupped his face in her hands and he didn’t know who moved first before they were kissing.

Her lips were soft and full against his as they moved, like they were drinking in the feeling. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips and he opened for her, groaning low in his chest at the first brush of her tongue against his.

It was unhurried and thorough, like the other was something that needed to be studied in fine detail.

It could’ve been an eternity or a split second before Elide was sitting up, gasping as they broke apart. He couldn’t find the words he wanted to say and then she was standing and backing away. “El-”

“I need to go home.”

“What? No, you’re staying here tonight, you told me-”

“I just- I need to go home. I’m just gonna drive home.”

Lorcan stood at that, to tell her it was dangerous for her to drive, he’d call her a cab if she wanted, but she was already gone.

He wanted to chase after her, he should’ve chased after her and explained everything, but he couldn’t. If they had really just ruined it all, he wasn’t in any hurry to find out.

Lorcan stayed outside, smoking until there was nothing left and then he stood, staggering inside. Rowan was the first person he ran into when he entered the kitchen. “Dude, what the fuck just happened?”

Lorcan didn’t answer and reached into Aelin’s secret stash, pulling out an unopened bottle of whiskey. He said nothing until he had ripped the cap off and chugged for a good five seconds. Rowan asked again, “Lorcan, Ellie ran in here crying and now she won’t leave Aelin’s room. What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’?” questioned Rowan, pressing to get to the truth.

“Rowan,” he said, his tone tired and angry, “I don’t know, ok? I don’t know what the fuck just happened.”

@myfeyrelady @schmlip-scribble @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @bamchickawowow @la7sorcellerie @julemmaes @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @emmejo26 @exercise-me-i-dare-u @cmoff1 @uselessflower14

[moonbeambucky]

Spills and Drills

Pairing: Dentist!Bucky Barnes x Reader [AU] Word Count: 4862 Warnings: fluff

Summary: Although you love sleeping in you learn that sometimes good things come to those who wake up early.

A/N: This is my submission for @teamcap4bucky Teamcap4bucky’s 2k Celebration Writing Challenge! My prompt was “Why are you staring at me?” Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading, I love you 3000! 💕 gif not mine

Hushed are the voices around you as the movie theatre lights dim to make way for the bright screen illuminating the upcoming releases. You’re comfortable in the red leather seat, with your hand digging into the bag of popcorn in your lap. The melted butter makes the salt stick to your fingers but you don’t mind at all, sucking them clean into your mouth after each handful.

Your name is called, no, shouted over the heavy thwong of the music in the movie trailer. You nearly jumped in your seat wondering why Shuri is practically screaming your name. As you turn to face her everything seems wrong. She’s wearing the same white dress she wore for her sixteenth birthday party, the white one with the fishnet collar her mother thought was a little too casual for the celebration. Shuri would always be her little princess even if she didn’t dress like one.

“What are you doing?” you questioned as she continued to shout your name. “Stop. No. Shuri, stop it!”

With a gasping breath you’re jolted awake, squinting one eye open to see Shuri standing above you, her palms are still pushing against your shoulders.

“Y/N wake up!”

Oh, it was just a dream. The tension in your body relaxes as you nuzzle your face back into the softness of your pillow. “Shuri stop, lemme sleep, it’s Saturday,” you groaned.

“I know it is, I was sleeping too until your alarm woke me up. That thing has been going off for twenty minutes. Don’t you have an appointment to go to?”

Your eyes shot open. “Shit!”

You get up, throwing the blankets off yourself as fast as possible to get out of bed. Why you decided to make your appointment at 8am you’ll never truly understand. If I get up early I’ll have the whole day to be productive, you mock yourself in your head.

With a wide yawn Shuri leaves your room, saying she’s headed back to bed. Your own bed looks so inviting, it’s calling out for you to come back. It was very tempting to cancel the appointment and go back to sleep but you wouldn’t.

Your dentist is a really nice man who worked with you a few years ago during an emergency visit when you didn’t have insurance. He reduced his fees to the bare minimum and even then let you pay him off over the course of a few months. He had a small practice in Brooklyn he ran with his wife and in the world of cheap deals on Groupon you knew he was struggling a bit.

In less than a minute you were dressed and rushing in to the bathroom to wash the sleep from your face and give a thorough brushing to your teeth. Morning breath was still heavy on your tongue so you made sure to scrape that well too. Checking your phone for the time you realized you might be cutting it close to your appointment, so you grabbed what you needed and headed out.

The subway ride was quick but you still had a few blocks to walk once you got out. The street was a lot busier than you expected especially for so early in the morning but that was mainly due to a new popular cafe that recently opened. The lines were crazy long and as much as you wanted to try their Instagrammable treats you figured you’d wait a little bit for the hype to die down.

Checking your phone once more you realized you had one minute to go and two long blocks to still walk. You picked up the pace and turned the corner at the cafe, looking down to secure your phone back in your bag and not paying attention to the person coming out of the door.

You collided with a solid frame, getting knocked back a bit but thankfully not falling. A dentist appointment is enough, you certainly didn’t need a visit to the emergency room. Something did fall however, the two cups of coffee the man was holding.

“I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, looking down at the mess on the ground, with coffee spilling out from the overturned cups.

Glancing up you saw the man standing there, still holding the now empty coffee tray in his hand, with his mouth gaping open in shock. Your own mouth dropped open while staring at what was possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

Tall and well built, looking unfairly good in a sharp black suit with a simple white button down, casually left open at the top. His rich brown hair was cropped short with perfectly groomed stubble covering his jawline.

Realizing you were gawking at him you shook yourself free from his handsome aura and prompted yourself to actually speak.

“I’m so sorry, please let me pay you for them,” you offered, digging your hand into your bag to pull out some money.

“No need, it was my fault,” he replied, with the words falling from his perfectly pink lips like silk. “Did I spill any on you?”

You were definitely sure this was your fault but the sincerity of his tone combined with the sweetest look those incredible blue eyes were giving you would make you believe anything he said. In response to his question you shook your head, not knowing if you were even telling the truth since you couldn’t bother to pull your gaze away from him again.

“I’m glad to hear that. Could I buy you a coffee for your trouble? Although it might take a while with this line,” he chuckled.

Yes is what you wanted to say. You would have waited in a month long line if it meant you’d be with this incredibly handsome man but you were definitely late to your appointment by now and you simply wouldn’t cancel on your dentist like that.

“I’m sorry I have to go,” you quickly trailed off as your feet began to carry you in the direction you needed to be. “Again, I’m so sorry about the coffee!”

You really wished you had woken up earlier, maybe then you would have had a spare moment to actually talk to the hot guy and try your luck at getting his number. He did offer to buy you a coffee so that seemed promising but then you remembered the two cups spilled on the ground. Two cups of coffee for one person didn’t seem completely unlikely but a guy as hot as that is definitely in a relationship. Oh well.

By the time you reached the office you were slightly out of breath after deciding that you should speed walk the rest of the way there to make up for lost time. It didn’t help that you picked the wrong jacket to wear on the awfully sunny morning.

It took a moment to steady your breathing before you rang the bell and were buzzed in.

“Dr. Barnes!” you exclaimed, not expecting to see him behind the reception desk where his wife usually is. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That’s alright Y/N, it’s a just a few minutes,” he confirmed, checking the watch on his wrist.

You followed Dr. Barnes down the hallway whose walls were lined with posters of people smiling, showing off bright white teeth that advertised all kinds of dental products and procedures.

“My next appointment actually cancelled,” he said, turning his head back a bit as he continued to take you to the examination room. “Turns out they didn’t want to get up this early on a Saturday.”

“I can’t imagine anyone that would,” you remarked with light sarcasm while sharing a smile.

The exam room had recently been redecorated with beigey-grey wood running throughout the floor. The former textured blue wall paper was gone, replaced by a fresh coat of light grey paint on all but one wall that was a deep teal blue. Dr. Barnes’ old desk and bulky computer were replaced by a modern floating desk and a monitor that was clearly a touch screen, though a wireless keyboard and mouse were on top of the polished surface.

You knew Dr. Barnes wasn’t comfortable with new technology. His flip phone made you laugh every time you saw it but it only added to his endearing charm. His wife Winnie adapted faster to her new phone though she has asked you the occasional question or two.

“The room looks great,” you said, hanging up your jacket on the small hook on the wall. “Did Winnie do this?”

His lips were pulled into a smile as he shook his head, “No, my son actually.”

You sat in the dental chair getting yourself comfortable as Dr. Barnes pressed a button for the automatic cup filler beside you as he continued, “He’s been back for a while now.”

Dr. Barnes would often talk about his children as he made small talk during the exam. His son James had gone to college in Indiana and also studied dentistry. Dr. Barnes had hoped James would eventually work at the family practice.

“…If only he learned to be on time,” Dr. Barnes sighed.

He glanced over at the frame on his desk, an picture of his family from over a decade ago when the kids were younger. From your angle you could see bright happy faces and James smiling with mouth full of metal. The poor kid ticked off all the boxes that made up an awkward teen, braces, acne and a lanky body with long stringy hair that looked like it needed a good wash. Rebecca, his daughter, thankfully didn’t look like she had any of the problems her brother did, and Winnie looked as radiant then as she did now.

“Where is Winnie anyway?” you wondered.

Dr. Barnes smiled at the mention of his wife’s name and you found it endearing to see how clearly in love they were. “Sleeping in this morning. Rebecca’s asked her to come along later while she looks for a wedding dress. Knowing my daughter, Win’s gonna need as much rest as possible!”

His fingers slowly clacked away at the keyboard, making you smile as he used both index fingers to slowly type out your name.”

“With Becca engaged I keep telling James he needs to catch up.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it,” you chuckled.

Dr. Barnes pressed the backspace key a few times, clearly unable to have a conversation while he was concentrating on typing. He let his hands rest in his lap for a moment, running his thumb along the gold band that has long since settled in the groove it created on his finger all those years ago.

“I just want to see him settle down with someone nice,” he said, pressing his lips together to form a tight smile.

You know he meant well and having had similar conversations with your own parents you can only assume the conversations are just as awkward for James as they are for you. A few times you’ve tried to explain to your parents how dating is much different today from their time but they don’t always understand. The conversation about why “nice guys” on the internet don’t actually exist seemed to have gone over their heads so you definitely understand James’ suffering.

“If it makes you feel better my parents say the same thing.”

Dr. Barnes’ sparkling blue eyes lit up at you words, as a smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, can I interest you in my son? He’s much better looking than I am and not a single cavity!”

“No cavities you say? That’s the first thing I look for in a man.”

The crinkles surrounding his eyes were prominent as Dr. Barnes gave a bellowing laugh. After finally pulling up your chart he briefly went over your medical history before taking x-rays. He placed the lead vest on your body and positioned the arm of the machine in place so he could begin. The sound of an ancient ringtone stopped his actions and Dr. Barnes excused himself to take the call in another room.

The weighted vest was comforting against your still sleepy form easing your eyes to gently shut. It would have been very easy to fall asleep but the dentist’s office was not the place for a nap. Instead you forced your eyes open, with a gasp caught in your throat as your jaw dropped in shock at what you saw.

Standing in the hallway in front your exam room was the man you bumped into outside the cafe, holding another tray with two cups of coffee. All thoughts about his looks went away because no matter how blue those eyes were or how chiseled that jawline was he was clearly a crazy stalker.

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Your mouth hung open in shock as you continued to stare at him. “I asked if you wanted me to pay for the coffees and you said no so now you’re following me?!” What a psycho!

He stood there silently, gazing at you with a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why are you staring at me? You need to leave.”

The man did nothing but continue to stand there, his mouth hanging open in what you perceived as happy recognition. Who knows how many buildings he went to before finding the one you entered, and now that he was here what was he planning on doing to you?

Without thinking of the ramifications you shoved the lead vest off and grabbed the nearest dental tool on the tray. You wished it was the drill but instead it was one with a curved end. You’re not sure what it’s called but you know it’s sharp and you hoped it would do some damage to this lunatic if he tried to come closer.

The stranger’s mouth pulled into a wide smile as he dipped his head forward and let out a chuckle. His actions only made you more nervous so you gripped the tool even tighter and pointed it towards him in the most threatening way you could be with an instrument that scrapes tooth plaque.

“If you don’t leave right now I’m gonna call the cops!”  

You knew it was a stupid thing to say, since technically if you did call 911 it would take some time before any police arrived, and realistically you should have called for Dr. Barnes instead.

“I– ” he begins before he turns his head to the side seeing a figure walking towards him.

“James!” Dr. Barnes proclaimed from the hallway.

James? As in pimple-face braces James? As in George’s son James? Oh no.

A metallic clang rang out through the exam room as you dropped the dental tool back onto the tray and jumped back into the chair. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you quickly pulled up the lead vest and replaced it across your body, trying not to look like you just threatened your dentist’s son with a pseudo weapon.

“Hi Dad,” James responded in that beautifully smooth voice you heard not long ago.

Dr. Barnes came into your line of sight and seeing the two together made you want to kick yourself for not realizing it earlier. Their eyes were identical as was the little dimple on their chins though James stood taller than his father, and where Dr. Barnes was lean James was obviously muscular. The integrity of that shirt was put to the test the moment he got dressed and you found yourself growing hot at the thought of the younger Barnes in a state where his body would not be covered with clothing.

Dr. Barnes folded his arms across his chest, frowning as he huffed, “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I was bringing you coffee and then…” James stopped to share a knowing look in your direction, your own eyes flared with panicked anticipation wondering what he was going to say.

“... I bumped into someone and knocked them right out of my hand, totally my fault. Had to wait back in line again.”

Dr. Barnes swiped his hand down his face as he let out an expected sigh, “My son, the klutz.” He turned his head towards you, seeing the small curve your lips were pulled into. “See Y/N, this is why he’s single,” he joked.

James turned a few shades pinker with embarrassment at his father’s comment, especially when he locked eyes with you, seeing your own crinkling with unspoken laughter.

“Well it was kind of you to bring coffee but I’d rather you show up on time,” Dr. Barnes remarked.

James followed his father into your exam room as Dr. Barnes officially introduced his son. “Y/N, this is my son, Dr. James Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he said, extending his hand towards you.

“N-nice to meet you,” you replied, unable to contain the nerves in your voice.

Once again Dr. Barnes shook his head at his son’s actions, mumbling under his breath about how “Bucky” is not a professional name. It was all in good fun however as you could see the love they had for each other.

Turning his attention towards you again Dr. Barnes asked if you would feel comfortable with James finishing the exam and cleaning. “That call was from Winnie. She locked her keys in the car. So much for sleeping in.”

Your veins carried fear throughout your body as panic rooted itself deep into your bones. It’s not that you didn’t trust James or whatever he wanted to be called, in doing his job and Dr. Barnes would never steer you wrong but the fact that you would be alone with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen as his fingers probed your mouth made you feel more than awkward.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you lied through your ready to be examined teeth.

George smiled as he said goodbye, joking that he was going to call you later so you could let him know the truth about how James did during the exam.

The younger Barnes followed his father out of the room, telling you he would just need a minute to get ready, leaving you time to mentally prepare yourself.

You can do this Y/N. He’s just a hot guy. There are plenty of hot people out there. He’s just a normal guy with extraordinarily good looks. Don’t stare at him like he’s got a metal arm or something. Be cool.

Shrugging your shoulders you tried to physically shake off any lingering awkwardness, well as best as you could while still wearing the lead vest. With the morning you had you were glad you remembered to put on deodorant, especially now as you’re sweating in the chair, hoping the sweat stains under your arms that were definitely starting to form were not visible.

Footsteps echoed closer on the new wood flooring alerting you to sit up a bit more as you anticipated James’ arrival once more. He looked even better somehow, forgoing the suit jacket for a white lab coat.

“Time to get you out of that vest,” he said, scrunching his face up adorably as he corrected his words, “I mean, time to take the x-rays t-then you won’t need to wear the vest, heh.”

Responding with an awkward chuckle you felt slightly comforted by the fact that you weren’t the only one feeling nervous with the situation. You focused your eyes on the teal wall ahead, ignoring the way his deft fingers assembled the piece for the x-ray that would go in your mouth, holding a tense breath as he asked you to open your mouth and bite down.

Your mind was not helping you keep cool as it imagined his simple request in a more seductive scenario, hearing that smooth voice giving commands was not something you were turned off by.

You managed to make it through the rest of the x-rays with minimal squirming in your seat, as you combated visions of ripping his clothes off with thoughts of Shuri and her obsession with watching pimple popping videos. That girl may be a genius but there is definitely something wrong with her.

James’ fingers brushed against your arm as he finally took off the lead vest. “You’re hot,” he said causing your eyes to widen. “I mean from the vest,” he quickly mumbled.

Bucky was thankful his back was towards you as he hung the vest back up on the wall, rolling his eyes with embarrassment by his poor choice of words. It’s true, your body was feeling warm when his fingers gently skimmed across your skin but Bucky thought you were hot the moment you ran into each other outside the cafe.

He kicked himself for choosing to stand in line for coffee again instead of trying to talk with you before you left to give you his number. It took all the strength in the world not to drop the tray of coffee again when he saw you in the exam room. He’s truly never been happier to have been at work before.

Though Bucky had been practicing dentistry for quite a few years now being around you made him feel as nervous as he was during his first day of clinicals. He attempted to make small talk with you as he began the exam, an onerous task on your behalf as you could only communicate with a few sounds as your mouth hung open.

It was difficult not to look at James as he checked and cleaned your teeth. The bottom half of his handsome face was blocked by a mask but through his safety glasses you could still see those beautiful blue eyes, as clear as the ocean surrounding a tropical island.

Apparently you were lost in dreamy thought, unaware your tongue had strayed from where it was supposed to be during the cleaning.

“Stick your tongue out further,” he asked and you complied, focusing on the ceiling tiles above instead as he continued. “Okay, you can sit up and rinse now.”

Bringing the small cup to your lips you swished the water around your mouth and spit out a mess of saliva and blood.

“I never know what to do with my tongue,” you said, referencing your earlier action although hearing the words out of context you’re not sure if he knows what you mean. “D-during the exam!” you quickly added. “I know what to do with it.”

You heard a chuckle from behind, realizing your extra comment made things worse and you should probably never speak again.

Your mouth still felt unclean, though you couldn’t tell if it was leftover residue from the exam or the stupidity of your words. As you pressed the button to refill the cup you focused on the fact that in a few moments you would be getting your new toothbrush, paying the bill and leaving forever.

James spoke just as you began to pick up the cup, “Well, I’m happy to say your oral is good.”

The shock of his words caused your fingers to let go of the delicate cup, spilling water all over the floor.

“Health!” he shouted, catching his mistake. “Oral health!”

Bucky’s cheeks burned hotter than the sun and he didn’t need a mirror to know he was currently a deep crimson shade to match the level of embarrassment he felt. He wanted to disappear, magically teleport himself back to Indiana where he was not a bumbling idiot.

A gasp pulled his attention towards you as your hands simultaneously covered your gaping mouth while apologies spilled from your lips faster than the water.

“No, it’s okay, it’s my fault,” he apologized.

Bucky left the room, internally chastising himself for the ridiculous thing he said. He was thankful his father was not here to watch his descent into complete incompetence. There was something about you that made him act like a fool. He wondered if he could blame it on laughing gas, claim there was a leak in the nitrous oxide tank.

He opened the supply closet letting his shoulders slump as he exhaled a deep sigh. There was no way he could come back from this.

James returned with a large roll of paper towels in hand. Getting up from the chair you offered to help clean the spill but he insisted you didn’t have to. Instead you stood to the side, and despite how tempting it was to look at him bending over as he cleaned the floor you shut your eyes, pinched the bridge of your nose and wished you were still dreaming, hoping Shuri would wake you up from this nightmare.

His foot stepped on the pedal of the garbage as he dumped the saturated paper towels, pulling off his gloves to dump them as well. You still stood silently, inching your way out of the room, knowing you’ll have to find a new dentist because you could never face James or Dr. Barnes ever again.

Bucky rummaged through a drawer before turning towards you, “Do you want green or blue...or…. uhh, I’ve got orange,” he spoke of the toothbrushes.

“Doesn’t matter.” Get the toothbrush, pay the bill, leave forever.

James handed you a blue toothbrush and you wondered if it was a conscious choice, a reminder about his eyes even though this basic color falls short in comparison to the beauty of those sparkling sapphires.

Following him to the front you nodded quickly when he spoke about scheduling another appointment in six months. It didn’t matter, you would be cancelling it as the time neared. With the bill paid you gave him an awkward goodbye with a stupid wave that was immediately added to the long list of regrets for the day, and quickly ran out of the door.

A few hours later you were feeling better. You told Shuri everything the moment you got back to your apartment and even though reliving the disaster that was your morning made you feel embarrassed all over again, when she rolled off the bed from laughing so hard it allowed you to let go of everything and laugh along with her.

The buzzing of your phone on the table woke you from a nap you didn’t know you had taken. Seeing Dr. Barnes’ office number you remembered he said he would be calling you to check how things went.

“Hi, Dr. Barnes,” you said cheerily.

“Hi Y/N, this is Dr. Barnes. Not that Dr. Barnes though, it’s Bucky.”

“Oh, hi.” All of the nerves came rushing back as your heart raced with fear, wondering why he was calling you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just you left your jacket in the office.”

You completely forgot about your jacket until you were nearly home and a gust of wind caused goosebumps to erupt all over your bare arms reminding you about the poor jacket you abandoned in the office. It was too late, the jacket was a lost cause, an innocent victim as a result of your awkwardness, now homeless because you were not going back for it.

“Oh… yeah,” you responded, trying to sound casual.

“That’s not the only reason I called.”

Bucky cleared his throat, forcing himself to say the apologies he’s been repeating in his head all day but this time to the person who needed to hear it.

“I wanted to apologize for today. I’m normally not…” He ruminated on his words, trying to think of something professional before settling on the truth “… a mess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his admission and the sound eased some of the tension he felt immediately. If Bucky was being honest you thought you should do the same.

“Me too. I’d like to think I’m a lot more chill than I was today.”

“So threatening people with a sickle probe isn’t a normal part of your dental experience?” he joked, pulling more laughter from you. “In all seriousness, I’d like to return your jacket and maybe I could buy you that cup of coffee?”

Bucky’s voice went higher with uncertainty as he silently hoped you would say yes to his offer. The momentary silence was deafening as he waited for your answer.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

Bucky’s heart sunk to the floor. He was wrong to think you felt the same about him. Clearly you wanted to keep things professional, something he was clearly incapable of.

“…I heard coffee stains your teeth.”

Relief washed over him quickly, helping to slow the rapid beat of his anxious heart. His lips stretched wide across his face as he said, “Maybe it’s another excuse to see you again.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you chewed on your bottom lip to help contain the smile that threatened to spread all the way to Brooklyn. You decided to meet at a coffee shop in the middle, leaving you just enough time to get changed and attempt to look presentable again.

“I’ll see you soon Bucky,” you said, getting up and eyeing your closet for something to wear. “And I promise I won’t knock it over.”

“I hope not because it was definitely your fault this morning!”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

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[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 26

Summary:  Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 26: Theodore Solomons turns 3. 

           It was seven in the morning when Teddy Solomons came catapulting down the stairs. His nanny tried to keep up but he jumped the last two steps and stumbled into his father’s study.

           Alfie chucked when the little boy slid across the polished wood floors in his socks. He stood and caught his son before he collided with Cyril who was nearly the same size as Teddy. “And here comes Theodore Solomons coming in fast as a bolt of lightning!” He grinned.

           Elizabeth, the nanny they'd hired around Teddy's second birthday, came running in. "Sorry Mr. Solomons, tried to keep up with him." She panted breathlessly. Tending for the active boy was a work out every day.

           "S'alright, Liz, I've got him. Go and get some breakfast." Alfie relieved her of her duties.

           Breathless and wide-eyed, Teddy grabbed Alfie’s beard. “Daddy, it’s my birthday!” He chirped happily.

           Alfie rested him on his hip. “Oh no, that can’t be right. You just had a birthday.” He teased and pretended to be serious. “Weren’t it just last month? Yeah, you ain’t any older, mate. Just a regular old day.”

           Teddy just giggled. “No!”

           “Yep, in fact, think it’s my birthday.” He chuckled and playfully threw Teddy over his shoulder, “What’d you get me, then?”

           The toddler shrieked with joy. “Not your birthday!”

           Every single day reminded Alfie how lucky he was. What sort of happiness he’d found on borrowed time. Teddy was the light of his life and vice versa. The bond between father and son was unbreakable. It reassured Alfie that when his time came, he made a lasting impression in Teddy’s life. One that would hopefully last.

           Alfie carried Teddy out to the patio where Louise was enjoying the brisk fall morning. The two foxhounds they bought were outside with her. They were strays that she’d found wandering the pastures. Of course, Alfie couldn’t turn them away and figured they could be helpful. He managed to train them to be protective and to tag along on Louise’s daily rides on Paris. That way he could be assured that she had some sort of defense if she ever needed it even if Surrey was very tamed compared to London. Cyril was far too lazy to get the task done, especially at his age, and Alfie certainly wasn’t going to get on a horse and join his wife. So, they brought in the dogs and let Teddy name them. Thus, Baby and Ollie were welcomed into the Solomons household. Of course the latter being named after Alfie’s former assistant whom Teddy adored.

           “There’s the birthday boy!” Louise exclaimed and the hounds began to yip happily. Cyril stood his ground beside Alfie, nipping at the pups if they got too close to him.

           “Hold on now, ain’t his birthday.”

           Louise gave her husband a playful look. “Don’t tease him. Of course, it is!”

           “Oh, right, s’pose it is then.” He chuckled and handed over the now three-year-old to her.

           “Hello, love, happy birthday.” She murmured to Teddy, kissing his cheek a few times.

           Teddy giggled and clung to her. “I’m three.” He reminded her.

           “Three?” Alfie sat down, letting Cyril sit between his knees. Baby and Ollie began to chase each other in circles around the yard. “No, no, can’t be three.” He shook his head adamantly and stroked Cyril’s ears. “Three is practically all grown up.”

           Louise smiled and sat down at the patio table as well. “Next thing you know you’ll be dressing up suits like daddy.” But behind her smile, she knew there was a bittersweetness to the day. She’d woken up that morning even before Alfie. Sitting up in bed, she stared at the wall, dumbfounded. Her little boy was going to be three. Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was holding him for the first time? Wasn’t it just last week that she married Alfie? It couldn’t have been more than a year since she first met him standing outside of the bakery. Life moved so fast. She just wanted to grab the passing time and dig her heels into the ground. Try and hold it back from going by so fast so she could savor the moments just a little longer. Just one more minute. One more second.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Teddy was spoiled on his birthday. They went for a drive to town to go shopping. He got to ride Paris, sitting in front of Louise in the saddle. His hands over hers on the reins as they slowly walked around on the mare, Alfie watching from the fence.

           Before dinner, he opened his presents, enough toys to last him his entire childhood as far as Louise thought. But she couldn’t say no to Alfie who wanted to give Teddy things he could remember his father by. And it was such a gift seeing the little boy tear open the wrapping paper with a glow in his eyes. To see Alfie lying on his stomach, pushing a toy train around the carpet with Teddy crashing a toy car into the caboose.

           Then to finish it off, a big chocolate cake. Just like the one made for Louise’s birthday every year at Inglewood. Teddy was delighted and by the time he’d had his share, he needed a thorough bath to wash off all the chocolate from his hair, face, and hands.

           While Louise bathed their son, Alfie retired to the bedroom. Cyril plodded off to bed; ready to call it a day after keeping an eye on Teddy and trying to keep Baby and Ollie in line.

           Alfie leaned down to pat the bullmastiff on the head. “Good, lad. Family man now, aye? Used to be just us bachelors ‘fore. Now, look at us.” He chuckled and straightened up with a pained groan. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed out. He was so tired. The cancer was wearing him down, slowly taking out every ounce of energy he had left. He feared the day he wouldn’t be able to keep up with Teddy.

           He sighed and slipped his shirt over his head, tossing it to the hamper. He paused by the mirror on Louise’s vanity. Time really did seem to catch up with him. He wasn’t the rabid young man who was a captain in the war. Not the fit boy who could beat the ever living shit out of men twice his size. The clean-shaven man who only sported a bruise here and there.

           But the war. That’s when he started to wear the burdens life had given him. Scars. Bullet wounds. Unforgettable bits of violence always marked into his skin.

           The tattoos. To remember or perhaps to warn others. A man who wasn’t afraid of death and certainly wasn’t afraid of a little needle.

           Now, what was left? He was thinner, thinner than he’d been since he was prepubescent. The cancer appeared to be eating away at him. He grew thinner and horrendous lesions littering his skin. Marks that made him sick to look at. He thought it was a wonder that his son wasn’t afraid to look at him and his wife still kissed him. Alfie felt as if he were a piece of metal that was slowly rusting away. Then, in the end, there’d be nothing left but dust.

           The door opened and Louise stepped in. “Alfie?” She asked gently.

           He was pulled from his thoughts and glanced over at her. “Yeah, love?”

           She frowned when she noticed the preoccupied look in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

           “Yeah, ‘course. What could be wrong?” He forced a smile and went to finish getting changed for bed.

           “Alright…well, Teddy’s ready to be tucked in.”

           He nodded and walked over to the door, stopping to kiss her cheek. “Love you.” Most days, he couldn’t say it enough to her. He wanted his wife to always have that locked in her mind even when he was long gone. Always wanted her to know that he loved her more than life itself.

           She smiled. “I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~

           Alfie nudged open Teddy’s door and smiled. “Got all the chocolate off your face, yeah?”

           “Yeah.” Teddy beamed. His dark hair still a bit damp from the bath, his cherub cheeks still pink from the warm water. “Mummy said I couldn’t keep any of it for later.”

           His father laughed and sat down on the edge of his bed. “I’m sure Baby and Ollie would come in to lick it off you.”

           “Ew!” The little boy wrinkled up his nose. “Yuck.”

           “Yeah, yuck.” Alfie chuckled and reached over to move aside a piece of hair stuck to Teddy’s forehead. “Look at you.” He said quietly in disbelief. “Can’t believe how big you’ve grown.”

           “Gonna be big like you,” Teddy announced happily.

           “That right? You don’t want to stay this little forever?”

           “No!”

           Alfie smiled sadly. He knew he’d never see Teddy as a grown man. As much as he would love to see what a great person he knew his son would become. If fate was on time, he wouldn’t see that day. “Alright then, right, you can get bigger. Long as you never forget dad, aye?”

           “Okay.” Teddy didn’t understand. Alfie was always there. The longest they’d been apart is when Alfie and Louise took a holiday one weekend. Ollie and Shayna watched the little boy while they were away. But other than that, Alfie had been there every day. Teddy couldn’t comprehend being without him. The little boy didn’t even understand what death was.

           “Good.” Alfie kissed his forehead. “Love you lots. Sleep well, yeah?”

           “Good night, daddy.”

           “Good night, Ted.”

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Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[taetaesbitch]

My Secret K-pop Idol - Chapter 3 - Surprise!

Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 2.3k

Contains: Fluff, Mild Smut

I felt that this gif perfectly conveys the Tae vibes in this chapter. Sorry it took me a while to write this, I hope you enjoy! 

Chapter 3 - Surprise!

You struggle to open your eyes against the harsh light streaming in through a split in the curtain. Your head is pounding and you feel an aching soreness down between your legs. Groaning, you try to roll over to look at the digital clock on your nightstand, but feel a weight around your waist. Glancing down you notice an arm tightening around you. A male arm. An arm that belongs to the guy you were with last night. It all comes rushing back to you as you twist in his grasp to look at him. His dark hair is ruffled, his face relaxed. You remember those intense eyes that gazed at you so passionately last night. So dark and filled with promise. Blushing at the memory of those hands on you and smiling at the thought of his cute smile. Sighing, you move away to start your day. Struggling against him as he curls around you, but eventually escaping. His face scrunching in confusion. He mumbles low, as you tiptoe across your bedroom floor and towards the bathroom. You take a long hot shower, but his touch seems to be imprinted on your skin, you can’t stop thinking about the way he touched you. Rough. Tender. Urgent. Slow. One thing is certain… you will never be able to look at a strawberry the same way again. 

Stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around your body, you glance at yourself in the mirror but take a double take. Inhaling sharply, you touch your neck and chest, decorated with dark purple bruises. Recalling the way he bit and sucked, you can’t help but clench your legs together at the thought. Drying and dressing you peek out of the bathroom, holding your breath anxiously, hoping he’s still asleep. But disappointment washes over you when you see an empty bed, with nothing but tangled sheets. Feeling like such an idiot, your shoulders cave in. It was just a one night stand. You go to sit on the edge of the bed, a note on the side catches your eye and you reach for it. A message scrawled on it:

Thankyou for an incredible night. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I’m sorry to run out on you like this… but my manager is going to kill me. I am in soooo much trouble. I would like to see you again. Here’s my number.

Tae x

You can’t believe it. You squeal excitedly. Your heart doing somersaults and your belly full of butterflies. But they begin to fade. How would this work? You haven’t forgotten about those fangirls. Who is he really? If he’s that popular all you would gain is heartbreak. You set the paper back on the nightstand and carry on.

A few hours later you return to the note, phone in hand. Are you really going to do this? It can’t hurt. Right? Or can it? You groan in frustration and start dialling. A voice answers on the second ring. “Hello?” It’s his voice. Deep. Divine. “(Y/N)?” You hang up at the sound of your name on his lips. You can’t do this…

You have had three missed phone calls from his number over the next week, but you can’t bring yourself to pick up. You’re not ready. Today you start at your new job, assisting a band at Big Hit Entertainment. You’re excited and nervous. The emotions swirling around in you all morning, as you dress in a long grey pencil skirt, a lilac blouse and grey blazer, you’re careful to cover the slowly fading hickeys, making an accessory out of a small scarf. You enter the lobby, where the manager waits to greet you, you walk to an office and take a seat.

“So, Miss (Y/N), I see you’ve been an excellent assistant in the past and you come highly recommended.” 

“Yes, I’m observant and thorough in ensuring that everything is in order and taken care of.” His smile grows as you list off other key aspects.

“I think you’ll fit in perfectly here, and I think BTS are a great match.” He claims. Your mind seems to blank, your mouth falling open slightly.

“B-BTS?” That name is well known, they are a highly established band, but you have never taken the time to research them. You have only heard one or two songs.

“Yes, is that a problem?” The manager raises an eyebrow. You recollect yourself.

“No, no not at all.” You smile politely, shocked but excited. He goes over your duties and hands you a schedule, “You will need to study this carefully and keep up.” He stands, “Well, it’s time to meet them,” He gestures for you to follow him, walking you to an elevator. An uneasy tingling begins up your spine. “The boys are looking forward to meeting you.” The elevator pings on the top floor, you both step off into a spacious open planned room. There are floor to ceiling windows, light hardwood floors and a colour scheme of white, black and gold furniture. Walls separate rooms, a kitchen sits off to the side and around it sits the band their backs to you as you approach, an incredibly nervous feeling washes over you. They all seem dressed in varied fashions. “Boys.” They all stand and turn. Your eyes connect with those glittering dark ones and my mouth falls open. His own lips part, eyes widening as you gape at each other, astonished. “This is your new assistant (Y/N).” A few of the others look slightly shocked by my appearance. You also remember them from the bar. You assume Taehyung has told them what happened and turn a shade of strawberry. Taehyung is the first to recover, straightening as he smirks and narrows his eyes, “I’m V, but you can call me Taehyung.” Damn him! Of course he is! You thought they all looked familiar! You knew you had a bad feeling! You nod and speak through a tight smile.

“It’s nice to meet you Taehyung.” He’s so smug as he smiles back at you. The others follow his lead. 

“I’m J-hope! But you can call me Hobi!” He gives you a brilliant smile grabbing both your hands and nodding cheerfully. You instantly feel at ease and don’t recognise him from the club. “We are so happy to finally meet you!” He exclaims.

You laugh nervously and nod your head, “Likewise.”

Another one steps forward, he’s taller with pink hair and a cheeky smile, “I’m Jin.” He nods, you nod back, you don’t recognise him either. Jimin, Namjoon and Jungkook are next, all of whom seem to squint at you after their introductions, as if trying to figure out where they have seen you before. Your face flushes red and you panic inside. The last member steps forward, his face more serious than the others, but he gives a small smile as he speaks, “I’m Yoongi.” Your inner panic begins to calm as they finish and the manager says, “Now that you’re all introduced I’ll leave you to get to know each other better.” He turns to you, “I’ll be back in roughly an hour.” He faces the boys, “Behave.” With that he heads to the elevator, you watch him go, and as the doors slide shut, reality sets in. You’re in a room full of famous band members, one of which you had a one night stand with. Nothing to worry about. You turn towards the band members and come face to face with Taehyung. You yelp in surprise and jump back a step. 

“Woah there (Y/N). He doesn’t bite.” Exclaims the one named Hobi. The irony in his words make you blush and Taehyung snaps his teeth together before smiling mischievously. You give him a pointed glare.

“How about we sit on the sofa? (Y/N) might feel more at ease, I can understand how this can be quite overwhelming.” States Jimin, a sympathetic smile on his face. The rest of the boys agree and turn towards the sofa, but you feel a presence behind you and a deep voice whispers, “You never called, I was looking forward to round two.” Taehyung’s comment makes you flush red and starts a throbbing between your legs. His chest presses into your back and you yelp as you feel his hand grasp your ass. You spring away, turning towards him just in time to see his smirk and the devilish glint in his eyes. Rushing over to a sofa, you sit on the one opposite band, who has now settled themselves on. Jungkook seems deep in thought as he gazes at you, Namjoon clears his throat.

“So, you’ll be spending a lot of time with us and it’s vital that you understand that this career is our life, I hope you settle in well and with time you’ll learn our ways.” They all smile reassuringly, except for Jungkook, who seems deep in thought as he stares at you.

“I understand and I will do my absolute best to make sure your needs are met.” Taehyung catches your eye and he winks, causing you to clench your hands into fists. You can’t focus properly with the intense sexual look in his eyes. The man is killing you. He’s so smug and feigning innocence, but you know the truth. 

He rests his chin on his fist lazily, tilting his head. You want to run your hands through his hair so badly, to straddle him and kiss him roughly. You snap out of it as they begin to ask you questions; what music you like, how your friends would describe you. You also ask them questions and they tell you certain things about themselves. You’re getting on well, but both Taehyung and Jungkook have been awfully quiet.

Suddenly, Jungkook bursts out. “Ah Ha!” Startled, the rest of the group look towards him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide and excited as he looks at you, “You were at the bar the other night.” You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh. When you open them, the other members are looking at you with realization, but Hobi, Yoongi and Jin wear confused expressions. Jungkook continues, “You’re the one Tae--” He cuts off coughing as he catches Taehyung's threatening expression. 

“Hold up.” Hobi demands, “What is going on here?” 

“Do you remember when we went out last week, but you stayed in?” Asks Jungkook, Hobi nods, “Well we met (Y/N), and she helped Tae escape some Army’s. She’s the one that-” you see Taehyung physically nudge Jungkook this time and he stops mid sentence, but Hobi continues.

“Oh! You mean your the one he-” 

“Hoseok!” Taehyung warns. By this point your head is in your hands. How can this be happening?

“What are those?” Namjoon speaks up, you lift your head, only to find them all staring at your neck. Your scarf seems to have slipped, leaving your neck and the bruises exposed. You gasp and quickly cover them, but it’s too late. “Kim Taehyung.” Namjoon glares at Taehyung disapprovingly. A look of embarrassment crosses his face, giving you a moment of satisfaction before admiring such a cute look. He catches you looking and smirks.

“I don’t regret it, (Y/N) enjoyed it didn’t you?” Your eyes widen at his question.

“I-I-you-” You’re a stuttering mess. A satisfactory smirk crosses his lips.

“Taehyung, stop teasing (Y/N),” Jin stands and grabs your hands, walking you towards the kitchen area, away from the others. “Are you ok? Would you like a drink?” He smiles at you, his eyes are warm and friendly.

“Y-yes please. Just some water?” 

“Sure.” He spins to grab a bottle from the fridge, you hear whispers from behind you and look over to see the other members huddled around Taehyung, interrogating him. “Don’t mind them. We can all be a bit much sometimes.” He hands you the water and leans on the counter, as you gulp the water down, “So what did happen between you and Taehyung?” You nearly choke on the water, but manage to contain yourself.

“Um-well, it’s kind of personal.” Jin is grinning, but not at you you realise too late. 

A voice whispers in your ear, “Didn’t you bring any strawberries?” His arms wrap around you so that you can’t move away. 

“Taehyung. Let go of me.” You meet Jin’s eyes and silently plead with him to help you, but he just gives you a pitying look and returns to the sofa. Just Taehyung’s presence is making your legs feel weak. He plants his chin at the place where your shoulder and neck meet, and breathes in deep.

“What happened to calling me Tae?” You try to step out of his grip, but he holds you tight, “Why didn’t you call?” He sounds hurt and you sigh.

“I’m sorry, but I thought it would be for the best, considering the girls who chased you and especially with these new circumstances.” His grip loosens and you step out of his grasp, spinning to face him. He covers a wounded look with one of indifference, before moving to the fridge. He pulls out a punnet of strawberries and the memories come crashing back like a tsunami. He plucks one from the punnet and places it to his lips, leaning on the counter as he sucks on it sensually, never breaking eye contact with you. Your mouth dries up and you fight the urge to clench your legs together. When he’s finished he asks mockingly, “Would you like a strawberry?” You stare breathlessly, as amusement dances in his tempting eyes. Just then the elevator pings. You spin as the manager walks back in.

“I hope you have enjoyed your time (Y/N), but it’s time for their rehearsals.” He smiles and you nod in compliance, saying goodbye to the boys as you walk back to the elevator. As the manager presses the button, Taehyung remarks, “We look forward to seeing more of you (Y/N).” 

You see him lick his lower lip and smirk, before the elevator doors slide closed.

You can’t help but feel like you’ve just made a deal with the devil. 

[snowstories]

When A Watch Gets Stolen

Fandom: Magic Kaito/DCMK

Wordcount: 4503

Summary: Hakuba Saguru has met more police officers than he cared to count, and was liked by... well, none of them. So when his watch gets stolen, the people working with the KID task force become his suspects, and he launches an investigation. Or: Hakuba is autistic and gets his comfort object stolen. He takes this about as well as you'd expect.

Notes: Written for Autism Acceptance Month. Warnings for self-injurous stimming and a violent meltdown.

///

Hakuba was not well-liked among the KID Task Force, a fact that did not bother him in the slightest. Making friends had never been a priority of his, after all; he was here to catch a thief, and whether or not he got along with a bunch of half-witted officers was of no concern to him.

That is, as long as they left him alone.

His watch was missing.

The latest KID heist had ended with Hakuba on the receiving end of a waterfall of glitter-mixed paint - exceedingly immature, even by KID’s standards, a prank more than a magic trick. Though, he supposed he should’ve seen this coming, after he’d told Kuraba, quote: “If KID can’t even dodge a seven-year-old’s soccer ball, there is no possible reality wherein he could get past a police line to get the drop on me,” in an overt attempt to goad him into recklessness. He had succeeded there, at least, even if he’d still ultimately lost the war.

Either way, Nakamori had offered up the office shower to him, and he’d accepted, gladly washing off as much glitter and paint as possible. Sadly, it turned out the paint doubled as a dye - now, his hair was sparkly pink, and would likely remain as such for the foreseeable future.

Perhaps he’d invite Kuroba and Aoko on a fishing trip. One low blow for another.

And then he excited the shower, tugging lightly at his hair in a last futile attempt to get some of the glitter out, only to find his watch gone.

The rest of his belongings were still there; his button-up, blazer, shoes, pants, underwear, coat, all neatly in place. But in the jacket’s left pocket, where he always put his pocket watch, he found only lint.

He took a deep breath. With forced calm, he checked his other pockets, even though he knew he’d never make such a callous mistake as to misplace something. One thing Hakuba was not was sloppy. He liked everything to be in precisely the right place at the right time, neatly ordered and according to schedule. It provided structure and security. He didn’t like it when those things fell away.

And now his watch was stolen.

A quick sweep of the surrounding area provided little clues, aside from the slightly tilted door handle proving that someone had indeed picked the lock and walked in while he was showering. However, that did not narrow the suspect pool down in the slightest. He was in the middle of a police station, specifically working with the task force of a master thief renowned for dirty tricks; the odds of someone in his immediate vicinity knowing how to pick a lock were disproportionately high.

He could probably rule out Inspector Nakamori. While the man was as dim-witted as they come, he had a clear sense of honor and duty not often seen among officers. It was unlikely he’d stoop to the level of petty bullying; if he had a problem with Hakuba, he’d simply yell it at him, as he’d proven time and time again.

That said, it was exceedingly unlikely that he’d side with Hakuba over someone from his own task force. He was not well-liked, and therefore, he’d receive no help.

Not that he needed it. He was Britain’s youngest detective, rivaled in Japan by only a few. If he couldn’t even deduce who’d stolen his watch, he might as well retire to the country side right now.

He could feel the watch’s absence, as absurd and illogical as it was, taunting him from his pocket. Absently, he scratched his wrist, feeling his nails gauge the skin, leaving red gashes in their wake.

The first order of business would have to be narrowing down the suspect pool. He could hardly do a thorough examination everyone’s desks without getting caught, so he’d have to limit his search to those most likely to have committed the crime.

There was a bang on the door, and Hakuba startled.

“Yo, kid! How long you gonna be in there?” Nakamori’s voice called through the door.

How late was it? Out of habit, he almost reached into his pocket, before remembering the current circumstances and aborting the motion. It was hard to breathe, and his nails dug deeper into his arm.

He forced himself to take a deep breath despite the dam in his chest. Calm down.

“I’ll be right out,” he called back, and went to get dressed.

///

Narrowing down suspects proved to be about as difficult as expected, taken into account that a) no-one in the police station was fond of Hakuba, and b) all cops were varying degrees of bastards. But, finally, he managed to land on three key suspects: Hashimoto Takashi, new to the corps and therefore having something to prove; Fujiwara Akane, who had been accused of theft before, although the charges had been dropped; and Yamamoto Ken, who had been smirking at him for the past three days in an extremely smug fashion.

With the primary suspects nailed down, he went to work.

For some reason, people never even so much as considered the possibility that Hakuba might have some dubiously legal skills. People usually perceived him as an overly rigid rule-follower, and while Hakuba acknowledged he had a tendency to be somewhat inflexible, he was not exactly what you’d call a ‘rule-follower’. The law, while necessarily, was often flawed and illogical, and if the rules made it more difficult for him to do his job, he had no qualms ignoring them.

Regardless, his reputation for being a stickler to the rules meant that no-one had bothered to make any precautions against their desk being lock-picked and their phones being hacked. An oversight, of course; if you’re going to commit a crime, at least have the decency of covering it up properly. Especially if your target is a genius detective.

Neither Hashimoto’s nor Fujiwara’s desk contained anything out of the ordinary, and while both of their texts contained copious amounts of complaining about him, that was not a crime and did not in and off itself implicate them in theft.

Yamamoto’s phone, however, contained some very interesting messages indeed. He was in a small groupchat with some other officers, and he’d been making vague remarks about an ‘upcoming show’ and ‘the best prank in ages’ ever since the day Hakuba’s watch had gotten stolen. He backed up those messages to his own phone; it might prove to be important later.

His desk, however, contained no incriminating evidence, let alone the pocket watch. It should not have come as a surprise, and yet, he had to stop himself from breaking the drawer in two.

He had back-up watches, obviously, other models he could use in emergencies. Right now, a nice brown electric watch sat on his wrists. It was perfectly serviceable and of decent quality, and yet, it felt wrong. Too heavy on his wrist, always somehow managing to be in his line of sight, drawing attention to its obnoxious flickering numbers; every time he saw it, it became harder and harder to push away the panic that always threatened to overwhelm him.

He shoved the drawer closed, careful not to make too much noise. Then, he walked away, his hands shoved in his pocket so that no-one could see the way his nails clawed at the palm of his hands.

///

There was another heist that night. Unusually close to the previous one; KID preferred to have more time to plan out his tricks, but it seemed that dyeing Hakuba’s hair hadn’t needed much preparation. So, another heist.

KID was after the Red Haze this time, a 22 carat Burmese ruby. The owner, an old collector named Nakamura, had been most cooperative with the police, thankfully. Hakuba was crammed together with the rest of the task force in the display room, roughly ten minutes before the start of the heist.

He was panicking. He didn’t know why, but he was panicking. It was a struggle to get his breath under control, his fingers itched with the need to move, and when he turned to check the time the sense of wrongness was so profound it strangled him.

“Hey, Hakuba,” Yamamoto whispered. He bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling. He hadn’t noticed him get so close. Sloppy. Unusually sloppy.

He tried to focus on Yamamoto, but everything seemed hazy. He didn’t know how many minutes they had until the start of the heist, and he couldn’t bring himself to check. He needed to focus on Yamamoto. It might be important.

Yamamoto’s next words filtered through like he was underwater. “Guess what I have?”

In his hands was Hakuba’s pocket watch.

It took him one, two, three seconds to process what he was seeing, before he made a grab for it.

He missed. Through the fog, he realized that was strange, and then he remembered Yamamoto was tall; tall enough to keep anything out of Hakuba’s reach. It didn’t stop him from trying to get at it, jumping in an attempt to reach the chain, and that didn’t seem like something he should be doing, there might be laughing from above the water, but it didn’t matter, there was only one thing that mattered and it -

Was broken on the ground, shattered to little pieces.

Yamamoto was grinning, and ugly, smug smile, and the laughing had gotten louder. Hakuba stared at the remains of his watch, and someone was saying something, but the words were absolutely meaningless, he couldn’t understand them, couldn’t process anything except pain and panic and broken gears and a wide smirk -

Something was wrong. Distantly, he recognized this. His throat hurt, open and screaming, the sounds around him too loud, there were lights on now even though they weren’t before, his body was moving on its own, his hands making contact with something and doing it again and again and again, until he was pulled back by other hands, and still he was screaming and screaming and screaming -

A pair of hands pulled him along, and he tried to claw on them but it didn’t seem to be doing anything, the texture of their skin was off, somehow, but he couldn’t place it, and the lights were off now, and there was quiet. The hands let go, and he tried to follow them, because he needed to hit something, to scratch and hurt something, it was the only thing calming him right now, so he turned to himself, scratching and hitting and screaming. The pain felt real, at least.

And slowly, he calmed down.

There was no new input, nothing to exacerbate his current state, just him and his movements and his pain, and so steadily, the panic sunk and his head grew clearer.

It really was quiet. He wasn’t in the display room anymore; instead it was a smaller one, with a large bed in the corner and soft carpet under his hands. Probably Nakamura’s bedroom. Strange. They hadn’t been allowed in here, nor had they any reason to enter, for that matter. He shouldn’t be here. How had he gotten here?

Then he noticed a bright white blur among the darkness and - ah. The heist had started, then. Sadly, Hakuba was in no state to play mind games, and had no energy to arrest anyone, and so, he just sat back against the wall, closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

“You okay?” KID asked, something like worry in his voice. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

Not trusting himself to talk, Hakuba waved a hand. Not the most efficient method of communication, but it would have to do for now. Thankfully, KID seemed to get the message, because he shut up and let Hakuba figure himself out in the calm.

After a precise 300 seconds (he counted), he felt well enough to speak.

“As much as I can be after a meltdown,” he finally replied, proud of himself for not flinching back at the sound of his own voice. “Don’t you have a gem to steal?”

“Already did.” KID flashed the Red Haze between his fingers, and ah, yes, perhaps Hakuba should have suspected that. Not that he was up to doing anything about it. Speaking was enough of a challenge right now. “What was that, detective? You do not strike me as the type to lose control.”

Hakuba rubbed his face with one hand and petted the carpet with the other. It really was soft, and he could use some grounding right now. “A meltdown, in the context of neurodiversity, is a way autistic people react to an overload of stress, sensory input, fear, or other negative emotions. They are uncontrollable and can be quite extreme. I am not the type of ‘lose control’, but my brain does not always cooperate with me.”

KID cocked his head. “You’re autistic.”

“Yes. And I would appreciate not finding that rumor spread through the school tomorrow, Kuroba.”

“I am not this Kuroba person you seem to know, but if I were, I’m sure I’d be offended by the insinuation I’d betray your trust for a cheap laugh.”

“Well, just in case, you should know I have a 20000 word essay on why you likely have ADHD, and I am not afraid to use it.”

“Wait, you have a - Nevermind, I’ll steal it later.” KID waved his hand. “Either way, I’m assuming removing you from the source of the stressor was the right course of action?”

“It was, although I would advice against grabbing people if at all possible.” And then, through gritted teeth and with a near insurmountable loss of pride: “Thank you.”

“Don’t think too hard about it, detective.” KID threw the Red Haze into the air, catching it with nimble fingers before tossing it at Hakuba. “You can have the ruby back.”

“How gracious.”

KID shrugged. “Saves me the trouble of returning it later. And besides, stealing is no fun with your critics incapacitated.”

He gave one of his patented, overly dramatic bows, and with a “Take care, detective,” he was gone, vanishing out a window Hakuba hadn’t even noticed yet.

It was another half hour before he could bring himself to make the trek back to the task force.

///

As expected, there was a talk, afterwards.

Nakamori’s desk was messy, paperwork and candy wrappers strewn indiscriminately across the bureau, the only clean corner containing a picture of him and Aoko. Hakuba also noted another three pictures of her taped to his laptop. It seemed like the kind of thing Aoko might like to know, just to remind her that her father did, indeed, care.

Nakamori himself sat back in his desk, looking tired and annoyed in equal measure, rubbing his temples.

They’d been here for an hour now, Nakamori interrogating him on what happened under the guise of ‘wanting to hear his side of the story’. Hakuba hadn’t bothered to explain anything. It wouldn’t help, anyway.

“You know I can’t let you get away with this, right?” Nakamori asked. “If you refuse to give me any damn explanation, I’m going to have to report this to your father. Probably gonna have to do that anyway.”

Hakuba’s fingers curled around the chair’s arm, but he said nothing.

“Yamamoto might press charges.”

He snorted. As if his father would let that happen. Couldn’t have his precious reputation damaged by a criminal son.

Nakamori glared. “You think this is funny? You broke his fucking jaw, Hakuba.”

“And?”

It was the first thing he’d said all hour, and he wasn’t sure why he’d opened his mouth. His fingers were rasping against the wood, and there was something hot in his chest. Anger, he recognized. He’d been angry for days, perhaps even longer, and he was still too out of it to hold back this long. Great.

Well, if he was on his way out anyway, might as well make it a show.

“And?” Nakamori repeated, incredulous. “Do I need to tell you why you should feel guilty for breaking a man’s jaw? Really?”

“Guilty? I should feel guilty?” And oh yeah, he was angry, hot and boiling and it spilled over into his words. “Yamamoto steals my watch with the express purpose of using it to humiliate and hurt me in front of his friends - if not the entire task force - during a Kaitou KID Heist, and I should feel guilty for retaliating?”

Nakamori blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but Hakuba continued on, bulldozing over his next words. “Am I supposed to feel sorry that his plan had some unforeseen negative consequences? He knew perfectly well that I would not react calmly to him smashing my pocket watch, and this was, in fact, the whole entire reason he decided to do it in the first place, and now I’m supposed to feel sorry that I reacted somewhat stronger than he planned? With all due respect, Inspector Nakamori, fuck off. He reaped exactly what he sowed.”

Nakamori leaned forward, blowing out a deep breath through his nose. “Even if what you say is true, which I highly doubt, considering the fact that I’ve known Yamamoto for years and he has never done anything like that, that isn’t a damn reason to get into a fistfight. You should have come to me -”

“And what? What would you have done?” Hakuba’s hand slammed on the desk, and Nakamori flinched back, startled. “I come to you and say ‘Inspector Nakamori, my watch has been stolen’, and what would you do?”

“I would have launched an investigation -”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Hakuba cut him off. “You would have rolled your eyes and told me that I probably just lost it, that it’s just a watch, that I don’t need to be so melodramatic or make any false accusations. So then I would have decided to do my own investigation, which is exactly what I did anyway, and I would have found evidence that Yamamoto was likely responsible.”

Nakamori opened his mouth, but Hakuba ignored him. “So then I try again, and I come to you with the evidence, but it’s not watertight, so once again, you just roll your eyes. You tell me that you will talk to Yamamoto, after which you call me back into the office to say that Yamamoto denied the accusations and you feel inclined to believe him due to the fact that you’ve ‘known him for years’, and you tell me once again not to make any false accusations.”

He took a deep breath. “And then tonight happens, and it goes the exact same way it did now, and you will tell me that I reacted too strongly and that I will be removed from the case, as you are doing right now.”

Hakuba sat back, and went through the effort of looking Nakamori straight in the eyes. “Tell me, Inspector, exactly what would have changed if I had come to you? Why should I have bothered?”

A silence fell as he stared down Nakamori, the ticking of the clock louder than it ought to be.

Nakamori broke first. “You have evidence?”

“Text messages illegally obtained, not admissible in court,” Hakuba confirmed. “I’ll send them to you, in case you’re interested in maintaining your facade of objectivity.”

Hakuba stood up. “In the meantime, I will be expecting my official dismissal by Friday. I can see myself out.”

And just like that, he walked away.

///

He spent the next day finding ways he could circumvent the task force’s grip on the KID case. Sneaking into heists might be difficult, but it would not be impossible. Probably. Hopefully.

(Hakuba wasn’t that good at disguises, or at least, not at KID’s level, which is what the security around the heists was counting on. He may actually have to ask Kuroba for tips, but that would be an absolute last resort. He did still have a sliver of pride left.)

Either way, he could definitely hack into their database and read their reports, but it wouldn’t be the same. This case had just gotten significantly harder.

At 4AM, he finally fell asleep at his bureau. When he woke up, he found the carefully hidden physical copy of his KID/Kuroba ADHD essay stolen (to be expected and no disaster; he still had numerous digital copies he could print at any moment) and a brand new pocket watch on his pillow. It was silver, with little movable doves decorating the case.

Hakuba spent precisely eleven minutes and fourteen seconds playing with them, and he smiled.

///

By Friday, he did not receive his dismissal, as he had expected. Instead, he received another invitation to talk to Nakamori.

Strange. Perhaps Nakamori wished to deliver the news in person.

Either way, come Monday, he showed up at the task force once more. As he walked to Nakamori’s office, people kept their distance, whispering from the sidelines. Hakuba didn’t care. It wasn’t like he’d have to work with these people again.

He sat in the exact same chair he’d sat last week, and noted, with some perverse pride, that his nails had made little indents in it.

Nakamori was not usually that difficult to read; he wore his heart on his sleeve and was not afraid to speak his mind. That made him easier to deal with than most other people, and although his loud nature grated on Hakuba, it was something he’d always, on some level appreciated.

Today, however, Hakuba couldn’t get a good read on him. He was sitting straight in his chair, unusually professional, and his face was blank. Or, maybe the expression on it was just too subtle for Hakuba to read. That was a distinct possibility too.

Either way, it was unsettling. Hakuba reached into his coat pocket and traced the doves on his new watch.

“So,” Nakamori started. “I called your father.”

Naturally.

“He explained that you’ve gotten into fights with officers before, and basically threatened to end my career if I decided to remove you from the case.”

Hakuba closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Expected, but no less annoying.

“Not that I give a shit about any of that. Not the first time my job has been in peril, and it won’t be the last. I wish them good fucking luck trying to find a replacement for me.”

Hakuba barely managed to hold back a laugh. Nakamori had proven time and time again to be by far the most suited to leading the task force, and KID had proven time and time again he wouldn’t tolerate anyone else. Nakamori was right to be unafraid. His father had no power here.

“But the fact that this apparently wasn’t the first time you snapped and decked a guy did make me curious, so I did a bit of digging.” Hakuba’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Nakamori shot him an irritated glare. “Don’t look so shocked, you’re not the only detective in the room. There’s a reason I got this job in the first place.”

Hakuba inclined his head, contrite, and Nakamori continued. “Anyway. I did some digging, and found out that this is pretty routine for you. You work with the police, you deck a guy, you get about as fired as a high school detective can get, rinse and repeat. Kind of a weird pattern, considering the massive stick up your ass. Since it seemed out of character for you to just attack someone for no reason, I assume that all instances of that were caused by similar situations as this one?”

“Does it matter?” he scoffed.

“It does, actually.” Nakamori leaned forward on his desk. “You seemed pretty certain I wouldn’t have done a damn thing for you, and to be honest, you were right. I don’t like you. I do like Yamamoto - or I did, at least. It would’ve been way easier for me to just wave you off, so I probably would’ve.”

Hakuba sat back, blinking. Well. At least he admitted it.

“And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened with the others, too.”

Nakamori looked at him, and a beat too late, Hakuba realized he was expected to answer. He nodded. “Yes, although I fail to see how this is relevant.”

Nakamori rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s relevant because it explains why you didn’t come to me in the first place, and it’s relevant because it shows that this situation is as much my fault as it is yours.”

Hakuba’s hand slid off the watch, the doves’ cool metal replaced by cotton under his fingers. “What?”

Nakamori glared. “I said, it’s my fault as much as it’s yours. As leader of the task force, it’s my job to take these kinds of matters seriously, and I wouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you can’t turn to me for help, and I definitely shouldn’t have been playing favourites, and I’m sorry for that. I should have done better, and I’ll try to do so in the future.”

Hakuba opened his mouth. Closed it again. Repeated the process. He should be saying something, but he was at a loss for words.

“Stop imitating a fish, dipshit,” Nakamori snapped. “Either way, you still broke a guy’s jaw, and I can’t let that slide. Although I can’t suspend you, considering the fact that you’re not actually an officer, I’m removing you from the case for the next three months and refusing you access to the heists. Also, if you pull a stunt like this again, I’ll be kicking you out properly. Just come to me next time, and I promise I’ll take your concerns seriously. No more vigilante justice, understood?”

“What about Yamamoto?” he managed to ask.

“Your evidence was obtained illegally, and not something that would hold up in court anyway, so therefore, it’s not something I can use to level any serious charges against him. However, his messages did imply rather heavily that your accusations were valid. Although your retaliation was far too extreme, childish bullying in the manner displayed by Yamamoto is not something that I’ll tolerate in my task force. As such, I requested for him to be transferred to another department. Hopefully that, and his time in the hospital, will teach him to behave in the future.”

Nakamori leaned back in his chair. “Now, I’ll ask you again: no more vigilante justice, understood?”

Although this barely felt real, Hakuba nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Nakamori waved a hand. “Now get out of here, and don’t let me see you for another three months.”

Outside, Baaya was waiting with the car. He watched he houses flash by as she drove him home, still somewhat dazed. He’d have to jump through some hoops for the next three months, but he wasn’t removed from the case permanently. Someone other than him had faced consequences. Nakamori had taken responsibility and apologized.

There was a new watch in his pocket, and surprisingly, it did not feel like such a bad thing.

[moonlightstars16]

Deep Cleansing Tension

30 Days Connverse Challenge

Day 29 ~ House Cleaning

"Okay so we'll start with the laundry, then the dishes, dusting, vacuum, mopping and-"

"Making the bed?"

"Yes maybe before washing the windows."

"The windows?"

"Yes! Steven the glass is covered in fingerprints and dust marks."

"Okay okay. But we do have one more thing...." he gave her a sympathetic look.

"Oh no...not again." She groaned lifting her hands up off the notepad and on her face.

"It's been a month. We gotta do this."

"But can't we just...use the pool?"

"The chemicals Strawberry." He leaned over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Oh right..." she sighed and wrapped her had around his. "I'll do it."

"We'll do it together." Standing up he gave her a gentle huge from behind. "Last?"

"Last" Connie agreed. Standing up and handing him the list. A smirk on her face. "How about we make a bet?" Steven laughed and matched her expression.

"I'm listening."

"Whoever gets Lion outside in the bathing area first wins. Looser has to give the other a massage." Connie flirted, caressing his chest.

"Oh oh! You're on!" Steven squeezed her waist as they pulled apart and went to do the normal cleaning routine. Now Pearl was the ultimate cleaning master. Steven picked up a lot of skills from her. Connie grew up to make sure nothing was a mess. As a child if there was a mess left uncleaned, there would be consequences. As she grew older she liked the more neat and tidy look.

Overall they took time every three months of the year to do a deep cleaning of there living area. It actually began at the temple when the gems were away on a Little Home School field trip. They grew bored and well by the time the sun set, everything looked fresh and new. In fact they even made it a game. Depending on the chore itself. Connie went straight for the vacuum while Steven did the dishes. The one who finished first got a point. All those points added up to a certain amount would mean a nice little treat. Whether it's a night out or a small gift.

No one won or loose persay since they each had a chance to earn points. However that didn't make what they were doing any less competitive. Being sure they completed the task at hand right, they each found ways to get it done fast. Connie pulled out the extension cord for the vacuum while Steven had the hot water running. With a hand from them both hovering over two clock timers(to see who would have a record time), they intensely looked into each others eyes.

"One"

"two"

"GO!"

With a quick reflex of the wrist they hit the timer and began to do there task. Connie was sweating halfway through the process. Steven's hands were becoming pruney, but that didn't stop either of them from continuing. Finally after a solid twenty minutes they both reached over and slapped the timer at the same time. A second passed before they bursted into laughter.

"A draw?"

"Let me see" Connie looked closer before laughing more and nodding her head. "A draw it is." Steven chuckled adding both a point to their lists. They continued this each chore. Windows and then the laundry(excusing the time spend on waiting between washes)/dusting things off. Finally mopping and making the bed. Each ending up in a tie. A pattern they were getting in the habit off over the past year. However the last and final chore was the worst of it all.

Bathing Lion.

Now a huge cat like that normally bathes himself. But adding in all the mud he rolls around in and the smell of sleeping in the 'Big Donut' dumpster, well his pink mane isn't so pink all the time. Plus it's worse when they have to travel through his mane to visit Lars. The stench follows them everywhere. So they decided to clean him up at least once a month. Once a week was torture and once a day means you better prepare for your funeral.

"Okay, our bet begins when we walk out the front door."

"What makes you sure he's outside?"

"I saw him roaming around at one point while cleaning up the windows." Steven shrugged with a sigh. Having a huge sack of 'Lion Lickers' in hand. Connie had a special treat in her's that she new Lion loved so much, Chaps.

"Alright, but be careful with your hands love, I'm going to need them later for my lower back." She teased with a wink and a giggle.

"You better keep yours in check. My neck and head miss your magic touch." He smirked as they walked out the door. Running in opposite directions calling Lion over and over. The search went on for hours. The late afternoon began to creep on them both. So much so that Connie called to see if he found him. Growing tired and feeling her throat a bit sore from calling out for Lion.

"Find him yet?"

"No, I was kinda hoping you did."

"Steven he must've sensed this and teleported somewhere else."

"I'm starting to think the same thing. Want to just call it a day and go home?"

"Yeah....I'm tired of just walking around aimlessly." Turning a corner they bumped into each other and laughed. Linking arms, walking back home before stopping with a gasp. There was Lion, sleeping on the front porch, belly exposed for a wanting rub. Taking a glance at each other they moved closer to the large pink fur ball. Neither really wanting to do much, but still wanted him clean. They didn't even need to speak in order to know what the other was thinking.

"Maybe we can use my dad's car wash?"

"Again? Though I can't believe he actually like it though."

"Honestly. Well I'll call my dad and tell him were on our way. Also to get the pet soap ready."

"I guess this means the bet is off?"

"Nah, we just have to massage each other." He winked holding up his phone to the side of his face. After an hour teleporting, staying and leaving back home and another hour cleaning themselves up. Connie had massaged his neck and hair(along with using shampoo) in the tub. Trying to forget her own tense muscles. In one of his old star t-shirts and panties she plopped herself in the bed laying on her stomach. Clutching a pillow as her eyes landed on Netflix.

"She-Ra season 3 right?"

"Yes that's where we left off." Steven spoke shifting behind her so her legs were between his knees. Smirking he lifted up the shirt she was wearing and began to massage her aching back.

"Mmmm" She moaned closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation. Thankfully before hitting play or else she wouldn't be able to focus. His touch was magical and his fingers heavenly. Beginning to doze off, a sensation pulled her back full force with a gasp. He had already pulled down her panties all the way off. Massaging her bum and inner thighs. Apparently being extra thorough as she also felt a soothing oil and lotion against her skin.

"You overworked yourself Strawberry." He sighed trying to ease off every muscle tension he felt. Connie groaned, burying her face in the pillow at his concerned tone. She had times of overdoing things to herself to reach a goal. He always made sure to check and see if she needed a break. From the looks of things, she did. Sliding his hand briefly between her bum cheeks, she gasped, gripping the pillow case.

"Biscuit are you trying to seduce me?" She mumbled while he chuckled.

"Always, but I do want to make all this tension disappear." Smirking he pulled her legs closer and gently flipped her on her back. "I should do the front too, just in case."Lifting up the other side of her top, exposing her plum breasts, he began to massage them too. All over her body as he caressed every inch of her skin. Slipping between and teasing her special g-spot. Lowering his head and peppering her entire body with kisses.

The pillow on her face shielded the view of her red tomato expression. Helpless in the entire situation. Feeling him slip up her undergarment and pulling down the shirt, she pulled the pillow away with a frown. He leaned over and kissed her lips passionately until her expression and entire being melted into his loving touches.

"Feeling all better now?" Steven asked pulling away with an adoring gaze in his eyes.

"Magic touch, you have." Connie spoke sounding a bit like Yoda. Which made them both burst into another fit of laughter before snuggling close and watching the program before them. Enjoying the scent of a fresh and clean home.