#people and he’ll run away/bite if you try to touch him. I’m making some progress though he stood nicely on my hand for a bit the other day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #childe genshin impact #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons

384 notes · View notes

blitzturtles · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Two-Player

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders

Pairing(s): JotaKak, JoKa, Minor (and Platonic) Kakyoin & kid!Jolyne

Summary: There are days when Jotaro’s body remembers every single injury that it's ever received. Days when he aches from his toes to the top of his skull, and days when his nerves light themselves on fire. Medication won’t touch it, and the pain is either too grating or too unpredictable for him to ignore for any length of time.

He tries to break it down into pieces. To compartmentalize it all away the way he does with the memories.

Notes: I was having a chronic pain flare, asked my wife who I should inflict it on, and her answer was, "Jotaro and/or Dick Grayson". So here's the Jotaro version. Btw, I'm doing a writing / fic giveaway! Check out this post to see how to enter. Goes until 8.25.21!

There are days when Jotaro’s body remembers every single injury that it's ever received. Days when he aches from his toes to the top of his skull, and days when his nerves light themselves on fire. Medication won’t touch it, and the pain is either too grating or too unpredictable for him to ignore for any length of time.

He tries to break it down into pieces. To compartmentalize it all away the way he does with the memories. It’s all he can do in moments like these, when he’s hunched forward and breathing too heavy. Biting at his lip in a desperate attempt to keep from making a sound, lest Kakyoin or Jolyne choose that exact moment to barge in.

There’s the throbbing in his ankles and knees; both of which twinge with an excruciatingly sharp agony whenever he tries to stand from his desk. If he falters in the slightest, he’ll have his hips to contend with, and they’ll bring him to his knees for daring to exist. Best to stay put until he can no longer take the stillness that builds in the damaged joints, not that walking seems to alleviate the radiating pounding that blossoms in each joint and spreads endlessly outward. The more he thinks about it, the wider the radius grows, the harder it is to control his breathing.

Speaking of, his ribs burn from inflammation, and every breath is like inhaling fire, deeper and deeper until he’s choking on the exhale. The coughing that follows makes his guts twist up. Knotting around an invisible blade and splitting apart until he smells more than tastes the scent of blood and bile rising in the back of his throat.

The pain running through his nerves is a mixture of fire blight and an intense, piercing sensation that he’s yet to fully find the words for. There’s a reverberating ache to each stab. A constant and endless reminder that makes it impossible for him to sooth with the fingers he digs into the meat of his arms and legs. He can only stand to do that for so long, anyway. His wrists cramp after a few seconds. Already fatigued from writing. Working always makes the tendons tighten until they feel like they’re going to snap.

For whatever reason, his head feels the need to join in on the fun. Possibly because he’s already tense everywhere else. Possibly because it’s just that kind of day. Either way, he can’t ignore the ache there anymore than he can anywhere else, and it’s significantly slowed down his progress for the day. He’s done little more than stare at the papers on his desk with a blank expression for what must be hours now. The words blur together so badly that the ink almost disappears from his vision, which is a welcomed relief to the burning of his eyes.

He’s so overwhelmed by it all that he doesn’t hear Kakyoin. Kakyoin who he doesn’t ever tell, because Jotaro would rather grit his teeth and force his way through the day than tell his husband, of all people, that he hurts. As if Kakyoin doesn’t know a truer, more hellish agony in his every waking moment.

“Jotaro?”

His own name being called is what finally breaks him out of his pity party, and the look on Kakyoin’s face tells Jotaro that it’s been said more than once. There’s worry etched in the crease of Kakyoin’s forehead and in the way his lips are turned downward. Kakyoin would be crouched at eye level with him if he could, but his own body is hardly partial to that sort of movement.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jotaro grits the words out and resists the urge to wince at the sound of his own voice. He doesn’t think he’s spoken at all today, but it still somehow sounds like he’s been chewing on glass.

Kakyoin’s frown deepens, “Jolyne was asking about- actually, it’s not that important. Are you alright?” He knows the answer already, but Kakyoin is nothing if not calculating. He wants to hear Jotaro speak. Wants to hear his reply. He’s trying to gauge how bad the situation is without expecting a proper, direct answer. He knows Jotaro too well for the man to be able to lie.

“Been better,” Jotaro admits, and he knows it’s an admission of just how poorly he feels. For him to fail to write Kakyoin off means that he’s struggling beyond what he can handle.

“I see,” Kakyoin says the words tightly. He seems to roll a thought over in his mind before sighing. “I think that you should lie down for a bit. I’ll get some painkillers. When’s the last time you had any?”

“I-” Jotaro mirrors the frown on Kakyoin’s face as he glances at the clock. Too long, he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to.

“Chasing pain won’t get you anywhere,” Kakyoin says, but his tone is far from patronizing. He speaks from experience. It’s better to try to stay in front of the brunt of their agony. They don’t stand much of a chance otherwise, not that Jotaro thought he’d had one since the moment he woke up that morning.

“Jolyne-” He starts, as a last ditch effort to get out of being mothered by his own husband, but he’s not surprised when Kakyoin shrugs him off.

“I’ll take care of Jolyne.” Kakyoin pauses, “And I can draw you a bath, if you’d like. The heat might help.” He would know, given his own chronic pain. He can’t take hot baths, given the sensitive nature of the reconstructed bits that make up his midsection, but he regularly soaks individual limbs when nothing else is working.

“I- yeah, okay,” Jotaro has to admit that the idea sounds nice. Maybe submerging the deep aches will help sooth them away, if only a little bit. Perhaps enough to make lying down more bearable, because that’s his problem with the idea of getting into bed: it’s going to hurt. He’ll hurt here or there, which is why he continues to insist on sitting at his desk on days like this. What’s the point in wasting time if he’s going to be miserable no matter where he is, or what he does? He might as well at least try to be productive.

“Good,” Kakyoin smiles gently, “Give me about five minutes before you come up? I’ll get that started and take care of Jolyne.”

“Sounds like a deal,” it doesn’t, actually. Kakyoin’s getting the short end of the stick all the way around. What with having to take care of Jotaro and Jolyne while dealing with his own pain.

“And quit that,” Kakyoin grumbles. He pokes Jotaro between the eyes, right on the bridge of his nose. “I married you, Jotaro. I don’t mind taking care of you or Jolyne, and I'm not inept for being a borderline cyborg.”

“I know,” Jotaro says with a sigh, “I don’t- I didn’t mean-” He hadn’t said anything, but that’s the problem with Kakyoin: he’s intuitive in a way that no one else Jotaro knows has ever been, and he can practically read Jotaro’s mind when he chooses.

“I know,” Kakyoin echoes, cutting Jotaro off before he can dig himself any deeper. His smile returns, and he leans down enough to press a kiss to the top of Jotaro’s forehead, only a short distance above where he had touched Jotaro a moment before. “Sometimes I just think you need a reminder. We’re equal, and you can have chronic pain, too.”

“Sounds fake,” Jotaro mumbles, but there’s a faint, upward pull of his lips that has Kakyoin barking out a laugh.

“Sure it does. Five minutes, JoJo.”

“Five minutes,” Jotaro repeats, already planning on it taking about that long just to get himself to the door to his study. His joints are already threatening to drop him if he so much as thinks about moving too quickly.

He watches Kakyoin go with fond eyes, and it takes approximately sixty seconds before he realizes that there had been a moment of relief. Where his brain had been too busy to be solely wrapped in his own suffering. Perhaps he’ll suggest that they all turn in early. There’s a new Disney movie that Jolyne’s been dying to see, and he knows she won’t mind being still too terribly if she gets to have the two of them in one room, sans work.

#jotakak #jotaro kujo #kujo jotaro #kakyoin noriaki #jolyne kujo #noriaki kakyoin #stardust crusaders #sdc #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba part 3 #part 3 #blitzwrites #blitz

26 notes · View notes

oh-no-a-whovian · 4 years ago

Text

Like real people do pt 2

Boba Fett X daughter reader. Din Djarin x Fett! Reader

Summary: [Y/N] Fett is ready to inherit her father’s armour. He just has to help a Mandalorian and his son first. A Mandalorian you feel an immediate connection with.

Warnings: none?

Word count: 1544

Links: masterlist

You groan and bite your lip as pain surges through your side, pulling you from sleep. The smell of hygiene equipment and sterile surfaces fills your nose as you fight the stark white lights to open your eyes.

“Your father isn’t very happy with you.” a deep voice sounds to your right and you freeze, racking your mind trying to remember who it is. Forcing your eyes open at last, the bright lights hurt your eyes as they reflect off the man’s shiny armour as he sits relaxed on the seat beside you.

“No, he wouldn’t be” you huff out a pained laugh, wincing and clasping your side as the wound seems to burn. “First time he begrudgingly lets me join and I get stabbed”

“Thank you”

“For what? Getting stabbed?” you groan as you try to sit up. Swiftly the Mandalorian is by your side, helping you move and shoving pillows behind you.

“For trying. You almost died trying to help and… I’m… grateful” he says as he sits back down. You simply nod as you nestle into your new position.

“I’m guessing we didn’t have enough bacta?” you ask as you eye the bloody bandage on your side.

“No, there was enough. It was a deep wound, even bacta can’t heal that instantly.”

“I’m sorry I lost the kid” you say as you stare into the visor of his helm. “I tried but… I doubt even my father could have handled four specialty battle droids” he nods solemnly as he leans back into the chair, his visor still locked on you. “We’re in hyperspace right? Where we headed?” you ask as you notice the familiar buzz through the ship.

“Nevarro. I have a friend who can help us find the people who took Grogu.” He says looking over as Fennec enters with a tray of food for you. “Will take us a few days to get there though”

“His name’s Grogu?” you smile, never looking away from the man in beskar, you only have eyes for him right now. Even as Fennec places your tray down. “Do you have a name?” you smirk as you gently lean towards him, grabbing a wafer from the tray without even looking.

“Not sure your father would approve of you flirting with the Mandalorian [Y/N]” Fennec huffs in amusement. Gently she moves the blanket and pulls off the bandage, checking the progress on the wound.

“If you’re trying to embarrass me, it’s not gonna work” you grin, point a finger at her as you crunch into the wafer. “So? Name?”

“Din” he replies and you hear a huff of amusement through his vocoder.

“Din” you grin “it’s nice to meet you. I promise we’ll get your kid back.”

“Good to see you up” your father says behind you making you stand up straight in front of the mirror. You turn when you realise what he’s wearing from the reflection. The armour is scraped up, patches of silver beskar shining through the chipped green and red paints. A huge dint sits above the left eye and an antenna rises above the right side of the head. It’s so similar to Din’s but so uniquely Fett. “You had me worried sick [Y/N]”

“I know daddy” you sigh, looking down feeling shame.

“I didn’t argue. I let you out of the ship, and you almost die.” He says as he pulls off his helmet dumps it on the bed and within just a few steps, is pulling you into his arms. It’s uncomfortable compared to what you’re used to, the beskar doing its job. Making a hardened exterior.

“I’m okay daddy. I promise.”

“I’ll fix the armour up for you, make sure it never happens again” you can hear the worry in his voice as he tries not to crush you in his arms. You know you’re all he has apart from this ship and although he’s a hardened bounty hunter, you know that if he lost you it would kill him.

“My side is almost healed” you mention as you pull away, grabbing your necklace from beside the sink. “Should be good to go before we even reach Nevarro” you see him tense when he realises you’re saying you’re ready to try again but he says nothing just nods. You know he hates it but surely e knows he can’t keep you hidden from the dangers of the galaxy forever.

“Guess I’ll have to get to work on the armour then” he sighs, grabbing the helm from the bed.

“Thank you daddy” you smile, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Should you really be doing that?” you hear the Mandalorian ask from the doorway as you do pull ups in your room.

“Probably not but I feel fine” you huff as you pull yourself up, hold, then drop.

“Nice necklace” he comments and you smirk as you approach him. Your necklace sits practically in your cleavage that is very on display. “What’s the symbol?”

“Thanks, I’m not sure actually. It’s from a market in the colonies near the centre of the galaxy. Apparently the merchant got it from a planet called Earth on the un-charted side of the galaxy. Apparently it’s called an ankh.”

“It’s… interesting.”

“Was there a reason you came to find me?” you ask as you pour yourself a glass of spotchka from your hidden stash. Your father would be none too pleased to find you’re hiding this stuff.

“Uh… no… I was just walking by. Was clearing my head. Not used to not being the pilot.”

“Mmm, well feel free to use the exercise equipment in my room” you offer gesturing around to the stuff behind you. “I definitely won’t mind the show” you wink as you recline back against the head of the bed. You hear his modulator try to hide his small laugh, a smile spread to your cheeks at the sound. You wish you knew what he looked like, could see what his smile is like.

“Maybe some other time. Like Fennec said earlier not sure your father would approve” he echoes in amusement. You eye him up and down, tilting your head as you watch him hover by the door way, not seeming to want to leave.

“You’re probably right. Feel free to have a seat” you hum, gesturing to the space beside you. he hesitates for a second, looking between the door and your prone form. Eventually he gives in, taking up the space beside you. His position is stiff, laying as if he wants to relax but also ready to bolt from the room. “You’re trying to distract yourself aren’t you?” you ask as you turn onto your side to look at him better. “Your head is running through the thousand things they could be doing and you have no idea what to do for the two days it’s gonna take just to get to Nevarro”

“You know the helmet is supposed to make it so you can’t read what I’m feeling… among other things.” He deflects, keeping his visor staring straight at the stark silver ceiling, almost as bright as his helm.

“He’s going to be fine.” You say quietly as you lay the rest of the way down, placing a hand gently on his bicep. You feel him tense more, if that’s even possible, but eventually he relaxes, the tension filling his body seeping away. “You’ll see him again and he will be so happy to be in the safety you will make for him. He’ll be so happy to be with you again”

“Don’t know about how safe it is for him to be with me. I lost him.”

“I lost him. You can only say you lost him if you were the one stabbed by a massive robot.” You tease, making him finally look at you. “You feel it right? Even with all the worry, you know he’s ok.” Slowly he nods, the motion practically unnoticeable because of the full get up. “Hold onto that feeling and it will give you the strength you need.”

For a while you felt his eyes on you as you kept yours closed beside him. It’s like this weight, a buzz under your skin and in your mind. A feeling that makes you want to move the helmet just to check. But instead you lie still until you feel the buzz leave and his breathing even out into soft breaths. You almost want to touch him, place a hand on his chest and feel the fall and rise, but you keep your hand where it is, on the cloth on his bicep. Opening your eyes, you stare at the metal clad man in front of you and smile. The moment quickly diminishing when there’s a knock at your door way.

“Your father wants you so he can make sure he edits the armour shape properly.” Fennec says, keeping her voice low as if she knows the man beside you is asleep. With a small nod, gentle movements and a glance back at the man in your bed, you follow her out. You can’t help but think though how well he fits in your space. You don’t know why but you really like that he does.

Tags: @yamaktaria @rand0m--fangirl @salty-sith-bitch @periwinklehoney @itsroguelife @rogueheretic555

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin #boba fett x reader #boba fett #mandalorian x reader

144 notes · View notes

enthusiasticharry · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Steps

summary: you’re harry’s sons therapist, and he isn't the only one you end up helping.

word count: hi! it has been a long while since I’ve posted on here so I hope you enjoy this 8.6k piece of pure fluff and smut!

masterlist | asks

As a child, Harry had never been given many opportunities to freely express himself. He grew up in a rural area where the sheep overruled the people and the only extra-circular activity available was playing football at the park with his friends that weren’t truly his friends. He was only a mere teenager when he decided that whenever he had kids, he would give them as many opportunities as possible.

He tried in school, don’t discourage him about that, but it didn’t work out as planned. That’s how he ended up working within the company he did. He started from the bottom, working 9 to 5 within a cubicle everyday until he had worked up to become chief editor. He had his own office, with his name written on a plaque upon the door and his photos sat upon the desk. It made day to day that little bit more enjoyable.

“Finishing early today, Mr. Styles?” Genevieve asked, watching as he closes his door behind him.

“Yes, I am.” He smiles politely, “It’s been in the calendar for weeks.”

“I’ve noticed.” He knew she hadn’t. Genevieve was okay at her job, he supposed. She was an apprentice the company had hired straight out of university and of course he didn’t mind that she was still finding her feet, “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Styles.”

“You too, Genevieve.” He nods his head at the girl and walks towards the exit.

At the ripe age of twenty-eight, Harry knew that he still had his entire life ahead of him but at the same time he was pretty content. He had his job, his small town house and more importantly his son, Theo. He hadn’t expected his girlfriend of a couple of months to get pregnant but in his mind he knew what had happened and that it was something that the two of them had to take responsibility for, but she didn’t think the same thing. Harry had loved her, and he had hoped that she had loved him and their son as much as he did but it just wasn’t meant to be. He had suspected that she was going to leave, he just hadn’t expected it to be in the middle of the night whilst their son was a month old and still nursing.

It was the following morning that Harry knew that he was going try his damned hardest to be the best Father possible for his son, try to give him the world and everything good that came along with it.

“Harry!” Mrs. Walters, the woman who lives next door exclaims as she throws the door open, “Please come in.”

“Hi Mrs. Walters.” He smiles, following the elderly woman into the living room, “Has he been good today?”

“We had a little disagreement at nap time but apart from that he’s been perfect!”

“I’m glad to hear it. He’s never been the biggest fan of naps.”

Just seeing Theo’s little face light up as he walked into the room was enough reason to keep his heart beating for centuries. Theo was the absolute double of Harry, and he could even see it himself. Even at three years old he had his father’s green eyes and curly brown hair and it was another thing that caused his love for his little man to grown everyday.

“Dada!” He toddled over to his father, only just starting to feel confident upon his feet, and wrapped his arms around Harry’s legs, his chunky cheeks pressed against his shin.

“Hi bubba.” He picks his son up and rests him upon his hip, “Did you have a nice day with Mrs. West?”

Theo nods and drops his head down upon Harry’s shoulder with a light sigh of content.

“He’s been amazing, Harry, don’t worry.” The older woman drops her head to Harry’s free shoulder, “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Mrs. West.”

Theo’s little hand rests comfortably within Harry’s as they walk through the door of community centre, his little feet tapping upon the wood in his trainers.

“Harry! Theo!” You exclaim, walking over to the two of them with a large smile across your face, “I’m so glad you could make it this week!”

“Yeah. Sorry about last week, I couldn’t get out of work on time and then once I did he wasn’t in the best of moods.”

“Don’t worry about it! It’s totally fine, we understand that you can’t make every week.”

Harry nods his head.

“Anyway.” You have a nice smile and it was probably the first thing that Harry noticed about you when you met, “We’re just about to get started.”

Harry sits down, crossing his legs as he does so. Theo drops down upon his father’s lap straight afterwards, his face pressed into the material of Harry’s crisp white dress shirt. Harry’s eyes bounce to look over the other children, the ones who acted similarly too Theo when they first joined. They all either sat in their parents laps comfortably or on the floor now, not one with a flicker of anxiousness across their features.

Theo and Harry have attended three of these sessions to help with confidence, and Theo had only just started to leave his shell in the last twenty minutes of the last session they went to and now it felt as though Harry had messed everything up again. He felt as though they were back to square one.

Then he feels a hand upon his shoulder.

“Its okay.” You smile, squeezing gently, “He’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

He will be, Harry knows that.

Another week had passed and Harry was yet again sat in a circle in the children’s room of the community centre with Theo sat upon his lap. Harry felt a little more at ease this week, since his little boy sat forward with a small, very small smile on his lips as he looked at… you? You hadn’t been there to greet them like you were last week, and he certainly hadn’t had the chance to say hello yet. It had been a warm-ish day today and Harry concluded that was probably why you were wearing a cute yellow sundress with small white flowers on it, something he had never seen you in before. You still wore your smile, Harry had noticed.

“Today.” You always overplayed your facial features to interest the children, “We are all going to write a story together.”

Theo’s little eyes widened in excitement.

“You like that idea, bub?” Harry whispered. Theo nodded.

“So I’ll start.” You touch your chest, “Then we’ll pass to Edith’s mummy and then Edith and we’ll continue that way around the circle!”

Harry and Theo would be third, which wasn’t too bad. He just hoped that Theo would get involved, he loved stories enough to have a mind spiralling with ideas.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away there lived a princess…” You start, smiling to the person next within the circle.

“…in a big castle with a swimming pool!”

“She has dog!”

“…called muffin who she loves to play with in the…”

“Park!”

“Then.” Harry started, leaning so that he was speaking to Theo as well as the rest of the group, “One day, something magical appeared in front of her…”

“Dinosaur!”

Harry beams and whispers, “Well done Theo!”

The story finishes with the princess riding the dinosaur along a rainbow, courtesy of the little girl called Tara who finishes the circle. Normally the children disperse the last twenty minutes or so to play amongst themselves whilst the adults talk about what type of week they’ve had. They were doing just that, but today, Harry’s heart stopped at the sight of his little boy sat with little Tara drawing at the tiny desk when usually he just does that on his own.

Harry had honestly never thought that he would be going to group behavioural therapy for his three year old son, but, he promised he would do anything for his little boy.

“Hi everyone.” They were now sat around a table, one fit for adults, whilst a few of your colleagues watched the children, “I’m excited to hear how all your weeks have been!”

Tara’s mum starts, explaining that this week the nursery had phoned up to explain that she hadn’t spoken to anyone at lunchtime but there had been the odd time where she’d had a small conversation with a couple of classmates.

Harry listens to a few others. How Ryan had bit a kid at school the other day, how Delilah refused to say anything for a couple of days that week. Harry had never experienced Theo biting or injuring other kids but he had experienced him shutting down and not speaking to anyone.

“Harry.” You smile, “How has little Theo been this week?”

“He’s, uh, been okay I suppose.” He runs his finger across his bottom lip, “Nothing out of the ordinary. Had an odd hour or so yesterday.”

“Has he made any friends at nursery, yet?”

“No. I don’t think so. I’m trying to get him in everyday but it’s proving to be difficult.”

You smile, “He’ll get there Harry. It might take him a bit longer than normal but he will get there.”

After listening to the other parents, the meeting for that week finishes. Harry waits for Theo to finish his drawing before helping him into his coat. Your words pondered through his mind — he certainly hoped that Theo would get better but it was a walk, not a sprint.

“Hi Theo.” You beam as you walk towards the two, “Can I see your drawing?”

After a few moments of contemplation, he passes the drawing to you.

“Wow! It’s beautiful! Can you draw me one whilst I talk to your Daddy?”

Theo listens to your request and starts on the drawing straight away, picking up colour after colour whilst Harry looks at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“I just wanted to have a quick word, nothing bad, I promise.”

Harry nods.

“Theo is making excellent progress in the program and I’m sure you’ve seen the results for yourself but as you know he is going a little slower than the rest of the kids.”

“If this is because we missed one then it’s completely my fault—”

“It’s not! Don’t think that, it’s not!” You’re quick to say, “I was thinking the other day of ways to help and I remembered that my friend runs a group at the weekend for children that are struggling to cope with the loss of a parent.”

“But I thought he was too young to be affected by that?”

“I thought so too but I did some more research and even though he was very, very young when his mother left, it could still be affecting him.” You swallow and tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “He will have noticed that he doesn’t have two parents and that could be the stem of all of the problems.”

Of course this had run through Harry’s mind a few time but he always brushed it off because he was so young when it happened. The fact that woman might be the reason his son was so quiet and not himself all of the time caused his stomach to flip. He hadn’t seen her since that night but she was still affecting him day upon day and he hated it.

“When is this group?”

“Oh!” You exclaim, happy that he hadn’t just shut the idea down, “It’s on Saturday at ten whilst twelve but you can come and go as you please.”

“Will you be there?” Why had he just asked that? He probably sounded like such a weirdo.

“I will.” You smiled, “Just for you.”

Harry certainly hadn’t expected to spend his Saturday morning sat at upon a bench outside the community centre watching Theo play with other kids. He was surprised how easily Theo had left his shell around all of these kids but he supposed they all had something in common, that they were raised by only one parent.

Another thing he hadn’t expected was to be sat sharing the said bench with you, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Black coffee.” You smile, holding out the cup for him to take.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” You take a sip of your own cup of tea, “He seems to be doing well.”

“I’m really surprised. The last time I saw him gel to someone so quickly was when he met our neighbour, Mrs. West.”

You smile, “It’s good. You’ll be able to figure out which group works the best for you both.”

“Will you be here every week?”

Is he flirting? You certainly weren’t complaining, anyone with eyes could see that Harry is a very handsome man but never in a million years did you think that he would be flirting with you. Maybe he wasn’t even flirting and you were just letting your imagination run a little too wild.

“I—”

“I’m sorry.” He’s quick to say, “What I meant is that he’s comfortable around you, and I would hate for him to loose that sort of comfort.”

“I completely understand.” You nod. So he wasn’t flirting with you. There was a part of you that was sort of disappointed and wished that he had been flirting with you, “Well he seems to be enjoying himself here so how about we slowly introduce him to just coming here. I’ll come for the first couple of weeks so that he’s comfortable.”

“Thank you. I haven’t said that enough but I honestly can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for my son.”

“It’s my job, Harry. I do this for a reason.”

“But you didn’t have to do this. Spend your Saturday morning sat on a bench with me to make sure that Theo is okay. You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I am. I’m doing it because I care about that little boy and I want him to get better. And you’re certainly not bad company.”

Harry smiles and looks away. It probably makes it more obvious that his cheeks are flushing at her words. You have always made Harry nervous, even from the first meeting when he asked whether you could help his son. Was it wrong? Probably. Did he care? No, as far as he knew this crush was harmless and it wasn’t as though it was reciprocated he supposed.

“I know I’m not as exciting at Theo but I do try.”

“I can tell.” You smile, “Was he okay at nursery yesterday?”

“The same I think. Nursery didn’t say anything when I picked him up and they usually do if something happened. Good or bad.”

“That’s good. Some will just ignore the problem. I’ve helped a few parents who have struggled with that.”

“I’m lucky.” He nodded, “We’re lucky.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine. Theo’s getting better, that’s the most important thing.”

You sigh, “Not Theo. How are you?”

“I’m getting there. I’m taking each day as it comes, I suppose.”

“Do you have people that you talk to?” You ask before immediately trying to retract your question, “I understand if you don’t want to tell me. I can be nosey sometimes.”

“No. It’s fine.” He coughs to clear his voice, his eyes watching as Theo sits in the sand pit with a bucket and spade, “I talk to my mum and sister if there’s anything really wrong.”

“Nobody else?” You’re daring, and your eyebrow raises in nervousness.

“I’m single if that’s what you’re asking.” He chuckles.

Your eyes bug, “Well I—”

“Its okay, YN.” He laughs now, his dimples deepening, “Are you single?”

“I am.” You smile, “I’m glad you have someone to talk to that isn’t your three year old son. It’s important.”

“I know. I kept a lot of it to myself at the start and just tried to be the best that I could be for Theo but it hit a point where I needed help, and I knew I did.”

“It’s commendable that you did that. Too many single parents try to do it on their own and it just doesn’t work. It not only causes them to fizzle out but it causes strain on the kids.”

“Have you got children?”

“No.” Your lips curl, “I just enjoy working with them — to a degree obviously.”

A chuckle passes. It’s at this point that Harry realises that this is the first conversation you have had with him that passes the point of being somewhat professional. You’re dipping your toes in the idea of the conversation being about getting to know each other rather than being about Theo or any information about the group.

“I can’t imagine.”

“You never know what the days going to hold when you walk through the door. They say to never work with children and animals.” You laugh, “Where you do you work?”

“I work at a publishing company. I’m the chief editor. It’s not the best but it pays the bills.”

“It sounds very interesting.”

“It isn’t. The amount of articles about interior design I read on a weekly basis is sort of absurd.”

“Interior design?”

“I work for an interior design magazine. I probably should’ve explained that first.”

You giggle, “I bet your house is immaculately decorated.”

“To a degree.” He chuckles, “Living with a three year old sort of means you’re house always looks like a bomb has hit it.”

“I can imagine.”

“I wouldn’t change it for anything. Yeah it is a mess but it isn’t too bad and he’s leaning that he won’t get treats if he doesn’t clean up after himself.”

“Nice. I’m sure that works a treat.”

“It does.” He laughs, “Literally.”

“He’s a good kid, Harry. You can tell. He’ll be perfectly fine.”

You keep saying that.

Harry received a message the following Wednesday around lunch time that he hadn’t expected. He was just about to tuck into the salad he had pre-made this morning fort lunch when his phone lit up on the desk. A small message box covers up his wallpaper which was a photo of Theo in the bath, bubbles on his head in a cone shape and upon his chin like a beard.

Hi Harry, Its YN. I promise I’m not weird I just got your number of the system to send this. I’m just letting you know that tonight’s group is cancelled, I’m bunged up with a cold and would hate to pass it onto any of the kiddies :) Hope you are well.

Hi YN. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better soon. See you next week. H.

Harry couldn’t hide that he was a little disappointed. He was starting to enjoy going to the centre every week. He could say that it was because his son was slowly coming out of his shell, and that was part of it, but ever since your conversation he had that one weekend he enjoyed the few words you spoke to each other.

If he was more confident in the way you felt about him, he probably would’ve messaged to ask if you needed anything bringing but he thought that it would’ve been a little bit odd. Hopefully in the future it wouldn’t be as odd.

“You can’t eat your chips yet, buddy, they’re too hot.” Harry explains, picking a couple of the chips from Theo’s plate and blowing on them. The young boy sat and watched his father, waiting for his chips before chewing them happily.

“Oh! Harry!”

You’re stood with a drink in your hand, jeans and a floral blouse hanging loosely upon your figure. You looked cute and cuddly, something that Harry had missed seeing over the past week or so.

“Hi YN.” He smiles, wiping his mouth with his napkin momentarily, “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you very much.” You smile.

“Would you like to sit?” He asks, motioning to the spare seat, “You don’t have to if you’re busy or anything.”

“No. I would love to. Are you okay with that Theo?”

For the first time since you’ve arrived the little boy looks up at his eyes immediately light up at the sight of you stood there.

“Miss YN!”

“I’m guessing he’s okay with it.” Harry smiles, watching as you pull out the seat and seat and sit down. “You weren’t in a rush, were you?”

“No.” You smile, sipping on the hot cocoa you had just bought, “I had just finished for the day actually. Did a bit of shopping and then decided to walk over here.”

“Sounds lovely. Anything exciting?”

“If fruit and veg is exciting, then exciting.”

“Hey, take it from me, trying to make fruit and veg exciting for your kids is the most exciting thing about fruit and veg.”

“Not a fan?” You ask, looking at the young boy who had started to munch on his chicken nuggets.

“Not really. Can you not tell?”

You laugh, looking at Theo’s plate which just had chips and chicken nuggets on with a blob of ketchup on the side.

“He seems to be enjoying those?”

“Oh god yeah.” Harry laughs, “He can eat for England. Takes after me in that sense.”

“That’s good. Some parents sometimes come in saying that their children don’t eat and it’s worrying them.”

“He went through a phase when he turned around two and a half of not eating but he rectified that very quickly himself.”

“That’s good? Have you had work today?”

It was only then that you had noticed his attire. Jean flares and a shirt that said something about eating honey. On anyone else you it would’ve set warning alarms within your head but he made it look suave and quite attractive.

“No. I have weekends off so I can spend them with Theo. I sometimes do a bit of work from home but not a lot, do you?”

“Sometimes. If there’s an emergency I’ll sometimes have to go in.”

“Is it hard? Do you find working with vulnerable children hard?”

“Challenging, I’d say. Maybe not hard. Some of the things that have happened to the children to cause them to behave the way they do are hard to listen to. Trying to get them to talk or just explain how they feel is even harder.”

“You do God’s work, YN.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I hate the though of children suffering, and I’d like to think I do my best to help with that.”

“You do. From experience you do.”

“You’re forever feeding my ego. I kind of like it, keep it coming.”

“Eh.” He curves his lips and moves his head from side to side, “You’re not that bad to look at either.”

“Cheeky! But you’re not too bad yourself, Styles.”

“Daddy!” Theo interrupts, “Toilet, please.”

“Okay bud.” Harry stands up and so do you, “You don’t have to go, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“No it’s okay, I probably should leave.” You smile, “I told Norman that I’d only been ten minutes and that was half an hour ago.”

“Norman?”

“My dog! God, I probably should’ve specified that. Norman’s my dog.”

“Ah.” Harry laughs, “That makes more sense. I’ll see you later YN.”

“Bye Harry.”

When you got home that night, you see the majority of the time sat staring at your phone whilst Norman stares at you as though you’ve gone crazy.

“I should just text him.” You sound crazy talking to your job but it is oddly comforting, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Hi Harry! It was lovely seeing you and Theo today. I hope you had a lovely rest of your day :)

You immediately regretted sending the message. Would he think you were weird? Had you just ruined any chance you had of it going any further? Your stomach twisted and your phone lit up.

We did thank you, YN. I hope Norman wasn’t too mad that we kept you out longer than expected. H.

You giggled. He remembered.

He got over it pretty quickly. Gave him a treat and everything was back to normal.

That’s good. It’s a good thing dogs are forgiving creatures.

Rather I bribed him to forgive me. He can be stubborn when he wants to be.

I think you might be describing my son. He certainly didn’t get his stubborn side from me.

Good. I would hate to have to bribe you to speak to me.

Well that depends what you would have bribed me with. But hopefully you’ll never be in the bad books.

You seem to have very high expectations of me, Styles. I might just surprise you.

I’m going to hold you to that. The next time I see you I expect to be surprised.

Are you free any time soon?

Not until next weekend really. I finish work at five-ish everyday.

Is there any chance that you’d maybe want to do something after work? I can hopefully surprise you?

I’d like that very much. Tuesday okay?

Perfect! See you then, Harry.

Sweet dreams, YN.

Tuesday couldn’t come quick enough in your eyes. You were pleasantly surprised that you’d even managed to bag yourself a date with the man, usually you’d shy away from the male species as much as possible. That didn’t mean that you didn’t spend the entire time messaging Harry the other day with warm cheeks and a fuzzy tummy. The fact that he could’ve thrown everything back into your face being the thing that scared you the most.

You had messaged Harry last night that you were going to a restaurant, not a fancy one but one that required a smart/casual dress code. You spent probably a little too long getting ready, curling your hair and applying the make up you wore too perfection, dressing in some high-waisted trousers with a long-sleeved tucked in to reserve the warmth that the British summertime had selfishly taken away.

You had hundred’s of thoughts bouncing around in your brain. It wasn’t everyday that you bagged a date with the man of your dreams and even if it didn’t work out — at least you could say that it had happened. If it didn’t work out it was probably a good thing that Theo had started to make the move from your group to your friend’s to avoid uncomfortable confrontation.

The reservation at the restaurant was for eight, so you had arranged to meet there for around politely declined. The drive was quick but the wait for Harry seemed to take hours.

When he did arrive, your breath caught within your throat. He was wearing simple dress pants with a silk floral shirt tucked in, the first couple of buttons undone. It revealed tattoos that you were shocked to see that he had upon his chest and stomach. It intrigued you to know whether he had more tattoos. A part of really wanted to see them.

“Hi.” He smiles and wraps his arms around you in a welcoming hug. He smelt really good.

“Hi.”

“You look lovely.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Styles.”

“Shall we go in?” You nodded.

The table reserved for the two of you was small but lovely, located in the corner of the restaurant by the floor to ceiling windows. You had been to this Italian plenty of times in the past and it had become one of your favourites. As you sat down, you had ordered a bottle of wine to share between the two of you.

“Is that your first surprise?” He asked as the two you tapped your glasses together in cheers, “Drinking on a work night?”

“It’s a special occasion.” You shrug, “You’ll have to figure out yourself whether it’s part of the surprise or not.”

He raised his eyebrow at you before he broke into a smile.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

The waiter comes a few ticks after that, asking what we would like. I order a bowl of pasta whilst Harry orders a pizza of some sort.

“How was Theo when you left him today?” You started to tuck into the bread and dips that the waiter had brought as an appetiser.

“Absolutely fine. I’ve never seen someone so exciting to spend time with their grandmother.”

“Weekend’s with my Grandma were the shit!” You exclaim with a smile, “We used to bake and she’d cook me all of my favourite dinners.”

“You were spoilt rotten, to say the least?”

“Of course I was! That’s how little Theo is feeling.”

“Are you close to your family?”

“Yeah I am. More so my Mum and Grandma. I don’t really have the best relationship with my Dad.”

He nods, “My mum and Dad divorced when I was young so I was brought up my Mum. She remarried when I was nineteen.”

You hummed, “Are you close with your stepfather?”

“I was.” Harry coughed to clear his throat, “He died in 2017.”

You immediately felt bad.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He stops the sip of his drink quick, “You haven’t, I promised. How are we supposed to get to know each other if you don’t ask questions?”

“We sort dived right into the deep shit straight away.” You laughed, “Quick fire questions: favourite band?”

“I honestly couldn’t pick one.”

“Well.” You sighed, “I tried but that answer was boring. Pick one!”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, his smile growing, “I love Fleetwood Mac, The Zombies, The Kinks—”

“Basically anything from the past?”

“Pretty much.” He laughed, “I grew up listening to Shania Twain and Joni Mitchell with my mum.”

“I would’ve loved to have that childhood.” You laughed, “My mum was all for Bon Jovi, Meatloaf and Prince. Always said ‘I could’ve been a rock chick’.”

He laughs and sips his drink.

The conversation for the rest of the evening flowed better than you could have expected. You honestly don’t think you’ve ever been on such a lovely date before in your life, if you could even call it that.

You learnt about his childhood living in Holmes Chapel whilst he learnt about yours. You hadn’t expected to enjoy his company so much and even as the night came to a close you found yourself not wanting to leave.

“I must admit.” He starts as her walks you towards your car, “I was quite disappointed when you said I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Why was that?”

“Because I’m not able to drive you home, walk you to your door and hopefully give you a little something to remember me for the night.”

“Really? Who said that I would have let you?”

“You wouldn’t have?”

“I don’t know.” You tease, “Why don’t you come over and try?”

The smile on his face as he leaned in is something that will haunt your dreams at night for the better. Your eyes flutter closed and sigh in content as his lips touch yours. It was a little embarrassing, but there had been a few moments late at night where you have wondered what this would feel like. Those were enjoyable dreams but the real this was so much better.

No tongue was involved but you already knew that this was something you could become addicted to. The feeling of his large palm against your cheek as his kissed any worry you had away from the night. Your whole body tingled and if you weren’t in a public car park, you wouldn’t know whether you’d be able to contain yourself.

You both pull away breathlessly.

“I think you would’ve let me.”

“I certainly fucking would.”

If Harry had any other option — he would’ve taken it in a heartbeat.

When Harry had woke up this morning, he had expected it to be like his normal Monday morning. Waking up early and making breakfast whilst Theo sleep in. Then he’d wake Theo up to have breakfast and then Harry would dress him for the day.

That hadn’t happened this morning.

When Harry had walked into Theo’s room that morning he found his son, already awake with tears streaming down his face. He tried to comfort his son, and tried to get him to talk but he just didn’t stop crying.

That’s how he ended up stood in the corner of his son’s room with his phone pressed tightly to his ear.

“Harry? Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, well uh, not really.” He scratches the back of his neck, “There’s something wrong with Theo.”

“Is he okay?”

“No. I came into his room this morning and he’s non-stop crying and he won’t talk to me.”

“I’m on my way.”

You drove as fast as you could. The sound of Harry’s voice, mixed with his words and the faint sniffles in the background was enough to send your heart spiralling. You used the message that Harry had sent with address to navigate your way towards his house.

Doors unlocked.

You raced your way up the stairs, taking two at a time and saw Harry waiting at the top of the stairs.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” You squeezed his arm in reassurance, “Is he in there?”

“Yeah.”

Then you saw him. The small boy with the brown curly hair and the green eyes that matched his Father’s peering up at you, small sobs leaving his lips.

“Hi bud.” You smile, “Is it okay if I sit down?”

The small boy nods and you do so, a small sigh escaping your smiling lips.

“Your Daddy phoned and said you were feeling a little upset this morning and asked if I could come and talk to you. Is that okay?”

He nods again, sniffling slightly.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

He shakes his head.

“Can you tell me why you’re crying?”

“Dream.” His chest heaves up and down.

“Did you have a bad dream?” A nod. Okay, you could work with that.

You hadn’t realised that Harry was stood at the door, leant against the frame with his eyebrows furrowed and his thumb running across his lip. He honestly wouldn’t know what he was going to do if you hadn’t been so lovely and come to check on Theo at such short notice.

“Was your dream about Daddy?” Another nod.

It honestly broke Harry’s heart. He had never ever though that something like this was the reason his son had gotten himself into such a state.

“Have you been having a lot of these dreams?” Nodding. So much nodding, “Are they scaring you?”

“Daddy hurt.” His voice was so quiet and unsteady.

“Daddy gets hurt?” Your palms start sweating, “Is that why you’re so upset? And you go quiet sometimes? You think Daddy’s going to get hurt?”

“I’m right here Theo.” Harry walks over and drops down to be face to face with his son, “I’m not hurt, and I’m not going to hurt.”

“You don’t move.” He cries become louder and louder the more they spoke.

Harry leans over and pulls his son off the bed, dropping him onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around him. You watch as Harry smooths his hand across his son’s back, hoping that it will calm him down and stop the crying. Harry’s catch yours and your heart physically breaks for him. You’d never seen anything like this in your four year career.

“Listen to this, bud.” Harry wipes his tear stained face briefly, “How about we take today off nursery and work and we’ll spend the day together.”

Theo nods and you smile, gently standing up and removing yourself from the situation. For the first time you can look at Harry’s house. It was exactly how you had pictured it to be — immaculately designed with a splash of Theo in ever corner. You drop down upon the sofa with a sigh and use your hand to try to rub the fatigue away from your face. You hadn’t had a morning like this in a long time.

Twenty minutes or so later, Harry joins you on the sofa with a deep sigh.

“How is he?”

“He’s asleep right now. I laid with him and he drifted off.”

“That’s good.”

He reaches over to grab your hand that was comfortably rested upon your thigh, threading his fingers nicely between your own.

“I’m sorry for calling so early. I know you were probably busy and this didn’t help.”

“It’s okay.” You give his hand another squeeze, “I told you that I’d help in any way that I could.”

“I know.” He nods, his voice starting to break, “It’s just so fucking hard YN.”

“Hey, don’t cry.” You move so that you can wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a comforting hug, “I know it is but we can sort this out, I promise.”

“Just knowing that this was because he has been worried about me. What kind of parent does that?”

“I want you to listen to me now, Harry.” You place your hands upon his cheeks, pulling his head up from your shoulder so that he’s looking directly at you, “You have done nothing wrong. This was completely out of your control.”

He nods and you wipe the tear that had fallen down his cheek away.

“I’m going to help you now and we’re going to get Theo better.”

He leans forward and to your surprise places a deep kiss to your lips.

“Thank you.”

Harry had invited you over as a thank you a couple of days later. You had told him multiple times that he didn’t have to thank you for anything and that you’d do anything for him and Theo but he insisted. Theo was still next door with Mrs. West after being picked up from nursery and she made it complete aware that she didn’t mind watching him for a few extra hours so that he could do this for his friend.

If Harry was honest, he doesn’t have many friends. Mrs. West has spoken to him about it on many occasions and he supposed that the old woman was just excited that he might actually have a friend that wasn’t herself or his son.

You had arrived at Harry’s house to see the dining room set out with plates and cutlery and wine glasses with delicious smell coming from the kitchen. He greeted you with a soft kiss upon the lips and a small hug.

“Has Theo been okay?” You ask, leaning against the counter as you watch Harry fry the vegetables for the stir fry.

“He’s been better. He’s been talking a little more according to to the teachers.” He starts to plate up the noodles, “For the first couple of nights he stayed in bed with me, as you suggested but last night he stayed in his own.”

“Did it go okay?” The two of you walk with full plates to the dining room.

“There were a few tears but he slept through the night.”

You honestly couldn’t have been happier for the two of them. You have worked with the two of them for a couple of months and now finding out that things were actually starting to work left you feeling happier than you had ever expected to be.

“That’s really good. I’m happy for you.”

Before you knew it the time had escaped from the two of you. Somehow, you had made your way to the sofa and now sat with large glasses of red wine in your hands.

“Are you sure you don’t need to get Theo?”

It was nearing seven, and you started to worry.

“If I go now he’ll probably kill me.” He laughs, “Mrs. West brings out the sweet treats around this time.”

You giggle and lean forward to capture your lips upon his. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the other resting lightly upon her thigh. In one confident movement, you shift your body so that your knees are either side of his hips. A part of you still couldn’t believe that this was happening, not only with anyone but with Harry.

This had all happened quicker than you had expected but you weren’t complaining.

“YN.” He pulls away breathlessly, “Hey, are you sure?”

“God yes.”

“Okay then.’

He skilfully picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you towards his bedroom. You land upon the bed with a small thud that causes you both to giggle. He presses his lips to yours one last time in a breath-taking, heart-stopping kiss.

“Move up.” You shuffle your bum up the bed so that your head is rested upon the lush pillows. Harry’s fingers toy with the zipper of your jeans, his eyes looking for any sign of uncomforted on your face, “This okay?”

You nod quickly, “It is.”

He sighs shakily, his fingers slipping into the band of your jeans, pulling them down your legs. You lift your hips up to aid him in the movement. At this point you were glad that a day ago you hd decided to have a pamper session and shave your entire body.

His lips place small kisses along the inside of your thighs, your body withering under his touch. It had been a long time since someone had touched you in this way, and your senses felt as though they were on override.

“Harry.” The small moan escapes your lips as he licks a stripe along your clothed centre.

“God.” He hooks his fingers into the material and pulls them down your legs, “You’re so fucking wet.”

You hum as his lips wrap around your clit, your chest heaving up and down as he uses his tongue to flick the sensitive nub over and over again. This had all happened so quickly and you felt so overwhelmed that you had no idea if you were going to last very long at all.

“Fuck.” You moan, “Harry.”

“That’s it.” He murmurs against your centre, giving your clit a few kitten licks afterwards, “Say my name again.”

“Harry.”

He suckles on your clit so quickly that you’re left breathless, your fingers threading through his curly brown hair. You tug on it causing a groan to escape his lips against you, sending your orgasm rushing in.

“M’coming.” Your chest heaves, “Fuck, baby.”

Harry pulls away after coaxing you through your high, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. He licks what he can before lifting up so that you can kiss him. He drops down, his head falling into your neck and for the first time you can feel him against your exposed thigh.

“Do you want me to help?’

“No.” He smiles, pushing your hair away from your face, “Tonight was a thanks to you. Hopefully there will plenty more opportunities for you to repay me in the future.”

“I’m excited for that.”

“Daddy?” The little voice wakes the two of you up from your slumber, “Miss. YN?”

“Hiya buddy.” Harry’s quick to pick the little boy up and drop him in the middle of the two of you, “Did you have a good sleep?”

Theo hums and cuddles into his Dad’s chest, “Morning Miss. YN.”

“Morning Theo.” You smile, “I’ve told you before, you can call me just YN.”

You and Harry had started to see each other frequently since the last date and very recently, in the past few days or so you’ve both made the jump of having sleepovers. With Theo it made it difficult for Harry to stay over at yours so you stayed over at Harry’s — not that you minded one bit.

“Okay, YN.” He smiles, leaning forward to place a kiss to Harry’s dimpled cheek.

“What do you fancy doing today bud? If you ask nicely YN might be able to stay with us today.”

“Really?” His eyes widen in excitement.

“Of course.” You smile and ruffle his hair, “But it’s your day, what do you want to do?”

“Can we go to the cinema?” You both nod, seeing as though that’s a very doable request from the little man.

“What do you want to go see?”

“Frozen 2 please, daddy.”

“Of course.” Harry kisses his cheek and your heart swells at the sight.

Theo sat the entire time in the cinema contently chewing on his popcorn as his eyes never left the screen. Harry’s hand was firmly grasped within yours and you both repeatedly picked it up to kiss the back of each other’s. It was the simple gestures that drew you to Harry in the first place, from that very first day at the centre.

“Did you enjoy it?” You both have one of Theo’s hands in yours, swinging him up as you walk along the pavement.

“Yes Daddy.” He beams.

“What do you fancy doing now? Fancy a McDonalds?”

“Can I have an ice cream, please?”

“Of course, baby.”

It was rare that you and Harry managed to get a night alone with each other, but this specific Saturday night Anne had offered to take Theo and the two of you weren’t complaining. It had been two or so months since your relationship grew from being professional into something more and you were yet to fully consummate your relationship.

You did other things, of course, in the dead of night when Theo was fast asleep. You were both just uncomfortable with the idea of having sex and reaching that last level of intimacy whilst he was in the other room.

The thought physically made you shudder.

“Are you hungry, baby?”

“I could eat.” You respond, sitting across from Harry as he scrolls through his phone whilst leaning upon the kitchen island.

“Pizza?”

You scoff, “Is that even a question?”

Once the delivery of your pizza’s arrive, you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone inhale a pizza as quickly as Harry did. He even ended up eating a slice of your own.

Cleaning up was easy and before you knew anything, you were both changing and getting ready for bed. It was at this point you could go through the plan that you’d created a week or so ago when you learnt that this day would be happening.

You dressed yourself in delicate white lingerie that would have anyone swooning and dropping to their knees. You tousled your hair, applied some lip balm to your lips and walk out to the bedroom.

“Fucking hell.” He drops his phone onto the bed beside him, “Where have you been keeping that?”

“It’s one of the surprises I always ramble on about.”

“Totally worth it.” He throws his hands up and makes grabby movements towards you which you give in to.

His arms wrap around you waist and pull you down so you could press your lips to his. There was something different within the air today and you could both feel it.

“You wanna feel me?”

“Always.”

His fingers reach up to unclasp your bra, dropping the lace material to the floor as you clamber upon his lap. His lips wrap around your pebbled nipples, the feeling of his swirling tongue earning breathy moans to escape your lips.

“Sensitive?”

“Just finished my period.”

“Ah.” You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly.

You drop to your knees, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you use your hand to palm him through his boxers. You place two kisses to each of the ferns, another one at the top of his happy trail before you hook your fingers into the material of his briefs, pulling them down as he lifted his hips to help.

This wasn’t your first rodeo with Harry’s dick, but that didn’t mean that you became any less nervous every time you saw it.

“Are you just going to stare?”

“I’m contemplating?”

“Contemplating what?”

“Whether or not you deserve me to suck your dick. Leave me to it, baby.”

He shuts his mouth the second to place one kitten lip to his base, your eyes watching as his stomach heaves up and down at the feeling. Wrapping your lips around the tip, you start to bob your head up and down, using your spit to ease yourself into it. Harry’s hand reaches out to grip your hair, guiding your head up and down but making sure to not go too far.

“You’re amazing. Fuck, YN baby.”

You use the free hand that wasn’t aiding you by jerking the length that you couldn’t take to squeeze his thigh, right by his tiger once before allowing your finger to rub over your sensitive nub through your panties, allowing any sort of friction to be released.

“Gotta stop baby.” He gently pushes you off of him, your mouth releasing him with a pop, “Need to last for you.”

Once you’re stood up he pulls your panties down your legs, watching as you step out of them. You both switch positions so that you’re laid on top of the plush comforter whilst Harry fumbles through his bedside table, taking a foil packet out.

Your eyes never leave him as he gives himself a few tugs before rolling the condom on, giving you a once over before bending down.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He questions once and you nod, muttering confirmation as he moves to hover above you.

You feel a little discomfort at first, probably due to how long it had been since you last had sex.

“Move, Harry.”

“M’kay.”

His lips are on yours again as he starts to move his hips, finding his rhythm as he thrusts in and out of you. You whine into his mouth whilst he groans into yours, the feeling becoming all too unbearable for the two of you.

“Feel so good, H. So big, so full.”

The chuffed face he pulled as he continued to thrust his hips to yours, his lips wrapping around your nipple briefly was enough for you to fall for him again.

“M’gonna come, baby.”

“I know, H, me too.”

He slipped his hand down between you both to use his fingers to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending you over the edge. A long moan of his name leaves your lips, your back arches and your eyes start to water.

“That’s it. Fuck! Squeezin’ me so tight.”

He moans as he comes, spilling into the condom whilst his movements halt inside of you.

He head drops forward upon your shoulder, the two of you masking in the overwhelming thing your had just experienced.

“There’s no one else I ever want to do that with.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.”

“YN.” Theo catches your attention as you wash both of your hands after the painting session you had both just had, “Are you my new Mummy?”

Your movements halt as you look down at the little boy, his features becoming more and more like Harry’s everyday.

You look up to Harry who’s stood drying his hand a couple of metres away, a goofy smile present on his lips as he nods at you.

“If you want me to be Theo, but are you sure?”

“I love you, YN.”

“I love you too, now go dry your hands.”

Harry passes him the towel to dry his hands which he does with little no disagreement.

“Are you going to go turn the TV on whilst Daddy talks to Mummy?”

The words felt odd leaving his lips, but a good kind of odd. You watch as he leaves the bathroom and bounds towards the living room.

You wrap your arms around Harry and sigh contently into his chest.

“I can’t believe he just said that.”

“I can. There’s no one else I’d want to be his mother.”

You stand on your tip toes to kiss his lips once.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #single dad!harry #therapist!yn #harry styles writing

998 notes · View notes

vibrant-leaf · 3 years ago

Text

A Miraculous Second Chance

🧡 ~KiriBaku Drabble~ ❤️

Summary: An accident happens and Bakugou has a bad head injury that affects his relationship with Kirishima.

Warnings: cursing

So I realize that this drabble has a lot of holes and things wrong with it but I won’t ever actually write this because it’d be a lot to tackle, especially with basically rewriting Bakugou’s much needed character development buuuuut I thought of this and needed to share it. This was just a series of messages in a discord so, it’s choppy, there’s grammar mistakes, I go back and forth between Kiri and Kirishima, but I still love it. So I hope you enjoy it for the mess that it is 😊

Bakugou and Kirishima are dating, it’s their third year at AU, Bakugou is out on a work study mission, fighting villains ya know the norm, but something goes wrong and he hits his head somehow, gets knocked out, and has to go to the hospital. Once Kiri gets word that he’s hurt he rushes to the hospital and by the time he gets there Bakugou has only been awake for about 5-10 minutes and the doctor is talking to him and his parents are outside of his door. Kiri runs for his room and Mitsuki sees him and tries to speak to him, “wait Kirishima we need to talk to you real quick” but..

“I need to see him! Just let me him first please!”

Mitsuki tries to stop him but he barges through anyway.

“Katsuki!! Oh my god thank god you’re okay!” He walks over to Bakugou and hugs him but Bakugou is freaked out and pushes him off.

“Don’t fucking touch me who do you think you are?!”

Eijirou backs away from him to give him some space. “What- katsuki it’s okay it’s me, it’s Eijirou.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are- and stop using my given name!”

And Eijirou is just stunned. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, eye brows scrunched up.

Mitsuki speaks up again, “Kirishima, honey. A word?”

Bakugou is just glaring at him and he can’t take it so he walks out of the room and next to Bakugou’s mom.

Kirishima is gutted. Understandably. With Bakugou being Bakugou he’s not gonna continue a relationship with some random stranger. (I’ll be continuing with bulletpoints)

Last thing Bakugou remembers is him finding out he got accepted into UA

Kiri had to explain the situation to rest of the BakuSquad and they now understand that Bakugou will be okay he just needs some space from everyone so he doesn’t get overwhelmed so they can’t bombard him with their usual nonsense.

But then BakuSquad asks about their relationship and Kiri just shakes his head and says “but I don’t blame him” and he’s been trying to hold back his tears. Of course he cried the night he saw Bakugou in the hospital but since then he’s been trying to suck it up because itd be selfish of him to cry over their relationship when Bakugou is going through something worse, right? So he should just be thankful that he’s alive and okay. But the bottle that’s been filling up with his emotions for the past couple days inevitably explodes and he starts to sob in front of his friends.

Bakugou is back to keeping his distance from everybody.

At first he’s given a little time to adjust to his “new” life before he asks about everything that’s happened to him but he definitely wants to know everything.

Kiri is trying to be friendly towards him. says hi to him every morning, tries to ask him questions about what he last remembers.

He gets a stern answer, “that I got accepted into UA.”

He hates the answer because that means Bakugou knows literally nothing about Kirishima, and what him and his class went through, or things they’ve done together.

Kirishima is hurting but he thinks he’ll be okay because at least he still gets to see Bakugou everyday.

He once accidentally called him Katsuki and apologized profusely. But what Kiri doesn’t know (thanks to Bakugou’s glare) is that Bakugou maybe, sort of, kind of liked the way his name sounded coming from Kiri’s mouth JUST A LITTLE THOUGH OKAY?

They soon become sort of friends again and Kiri is ecstatic by the minuscule amount of progress.

There’s a test coming up and Kiri asks Bakugou if he can help him study.

“Why the fuck would I wanna do that, Shitty-hair?”

“oh.. right.. sorry. Um, I’ll just ask Yaoyorozu then.” Kiri at least tries to think about the silver lining that is Bakugou calling him “shitty-hair” for the first time since the incident, but he’s still sad.

The sad look on Kiri’s face is foreign and horrible and why the fuck can’t Bakugou stand to look at it?! “Shut up. If you need help you might as well get it from the best in the class. I’ll help you. But don’t even think about mentioning it to the others” - there that’s better. That bright smile is back on Kiri’s face. Bakugou has to bite his cheek to keep him from smiling even the slightest bit.

CUE THE FIRST NIGHTMARE.

Bakugou is surrounded by people he’s never seen before, everything around him is just rubble, and these people are trying to capture him, but he’s dodging and fighting back.

He wakes up to loud knocking on his door and realizes he’s sweating and breathing super heavy.

He lets Kiri in his room.

Kiri is asking if he’s okay and if he had a nightmare.

Bakugou gives short and simple answers as he tried to calm his breathing down.

He’s finally calm and he tells him what his dream was about.

Kiri is shocked tries his best to calmly break it to Bakugou that that actually happened.

They decide to tell Aizawa and Recovery Girl tomorrow but for now Bakugou wants to try and go back to sleep.

Cut Kiri some slack here, he’s half awake and his brain is in Comfort-Bakugou Mode, so when he tries to slide under the covers of Bakugou’s bed he’s all the sudden getting yelled at.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shit shit! Shit! We would- or I would- um uh.. well we used to sleep together sometimes and especially if you had a nightmare.. but it’s okay I’ll just leave! Goodnight Ka- Bakugou!” And Kiri runs out of his room feeling absolutely mortified.

Bakugou is just sitting in his bed stunned. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was fucking KIDNAPPED once.. but he was also thinking about how that was the first time Kirishima said anything about when they were together. He tries not to think about what their relationship could’ve been like because it’s doing something weird to him like holy shit they slept in the same bed??? That guy?? With the stupid red hair?? Hair that honestly looked better down if Bakugou was concerned but he shouldn’t be, so he isn’t…

As Bakugou is falling asleep he thinks about how he finally wants to know about everything that happened to him in the last two and a half years.

So Bakugou talks to aizawa and recovery girl the next day and he gets a brain scan to see if maybe that one part of his brain that was damaged was healing at all.

The result: nothing much has changed with his brain.

He’s starting to get frustrated because he wants to remember but it looks like there was no hope of that happening anytime soon so he has to settle for stories from other people.

Sure he wants to know everything but good God a lot of shit has happened so he decides vague details for now are best.

Kiri just pretends that he didn’t try to sleep with Bakugou the night before and tries his best to act normal around him and it helps that Bakugou doesn’t bring it up.

Kiri really wants to tell him about their relationship though.. maybe one day. But as soon as he thought he was feeling better, he’s back to excusing himself from the lunch table because he can’t stop thinking about how much he loves Bakugou and wants him back and fuck he just really needs to have a cry right now. Luckily there isn’t anyone in the bathroom so he’s able to cry in peace.

Over the next week Bakugou has a couple more nightmares and Kirishima simply goes over to his room to check on him and it kills him that that’s all he can do for him now.

But on one night, it’s Bakugou’s turn to be pounding on Kirishima’s door.

Kiri quickly gets out of bed to open his door “Bakugou? You alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…”

“Tell you.. what?”

Bakugou just stares into his soul, takes him in, his pretty hair that barely reaches his shoulders, his eyes, the scar above his right eye, his whole face, his lips- okay that’s enough...

“Bakugou, I’ll tell you anything you want-”

“Why didn’t you tell that you were the one who.. who was there.. who called out to me.. whose hand I grabbed to escape those villains..”

Kirishima just stands there dumbfounded and says nothing because he didn’t really have a good answer to his question. Why didn’t he tell him? Because it was too much about them? Yeah maybe but looking at Bakugou’s face right now makes him feel real stupid for telling him nothing about that.

“I.. I really don’t know.. I’m sorry Bakugou.”

“Do you not have feelings for me anymore?”

Kiri could fucking laugh right now because that was the furthest thing from the truth, but of course he refrains.

“No! That’s not it at all.. I mean.. sorry I just.. I didn’t think you would want to know about us? Our relationship? I don’t know.. I feel dumb now for not telling you that at least.”

Bakugou keeps staring at him and Kirishima has no clue what to say or do with himself right now.

But Bakugou is annoyed. Annoyed that Kirishima wouldn’t tell him about that. Annoyed at how he’s been feeling towards Kirishima recently. Annoyed at how he wants to know everything about them, their relationship, what they did together, what sleeping next to him was like. He’s annoyed and he’s gonna do something about it.

So Bakugou takes a giant leap of faith, grabs Kirishima’s shoulders, and crashes his lips onto his. He really hopes that they’ve kissed before, otherwise this would probably be pretty fucking weird to do.

Kiri doesn’t kiss back right away because his brain needs to process what the hell is actually happening right now. But once he realizes that he isn’t in fact dreaming he puts his hands on Bakugou’s face and kissed him back.

When they pull apart they’re both breathless and blushing.

Bakugou’s stomach is doing flips and Kirishima is putting on the biggest smile he’s ever seen on him. And he’s almost mad at himself for not being able to remember what Kirishima looks like after kissing him like that. But he burns it in his memory this time and he silently swears to himself and to Kirishima that he’ll never forget again.

“I want to know everything about us.”

Kirishima can’t help it... he starts crying. But he’s crying because he’s so fucking happy and relieved and oh my god Bakugou kissed him again. “Okay, yeah. I’ll tell you everything.”

Bakugou lets a small smile form on his face. “It’s Eijirou, right?”

Kirishima nods frantically and wraps his arms around Bakugou’s neck and continues let the tears of joy fall down his face.

~Fin.

#mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #anime #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bakushima #drabble #imagine #memory loss #happy ending #love

23 notes · View notes

annaraebananawriter · 4 years ago

Text

1: Just a Bad Dream; Dying in LA

PLEASE READ NOTE BEFORE STORY:

Yellow everyone! I just wanted to warn you that I’m still kind of recovering from burning myself out, so don’t expect anything too awesome this week. I think Day 1 is actually the best that I’ve written for it, so far, so...It’s really just for me to stretch my muscles out again and get back into the flow.

With that said, this is Dy 1 of Dark Cream Week by @zu-is-here

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Shattered Dream (Who belongs to Galacii), Cross (Who belongs to Jakei) and mentioned Nightmare (who belongs to Joku)

Pairings: For now, implied Cream/Dark Cream

Warnings: I can’t remember, so let me know!

Word Count: 2096

~oOo~

The moment you arrived

They built you up

The sun was in your eyes

You couldn't believe it

~oOo~

They say that fate determines how you end up in life.

They say that destiny determines what you do in life.

These two things work in harmony with each other, one influencing the other around and around in a never-ending circle. Everyone was touched by them before they were born, the seed for skills necessary to succeed planted in them, waiting to be grown. No matter what happens, nothing pushes you away from what fate and destiny have determined for you.

It does not matter if your actions are good. If you give everything away and help everyone you come across. If you love your friends and family and strangers unconditionally. If you ignore yourself in favor of others.

It does not matter if your actions are bad. If you spit and sneer at everyone around you. If you yell and hit in anger and hate. If you hold your needs in front of everyone else and ignore those who should have just a little bit of attention too.

It simply does not matter.

Your fate and destiny have been determined already.

Why bother changing it?

~oOo~

Riches all around

You're walking

Stars are on the ground

You start to believe it

~oOo~

Cross was familiar with loss and guilt. When you kill your family and friends, try to delete other worlds, you tend to do so out of pain, driven only by a desperate hope that you can fix what you’ve done. But you can’t. Actions have consequences and the world will not let you go without them. He knows this well, almost too well.

Nothing stops the hurt, though. He’s tried. It was still there, stinging through every bandage and healing balm. If it shrunk, it only grew stronger. Other people tried to help as well, but their efforts were also in vain. Guilt comes from the loss that his actions have caused and that guilt causes this pain that will always be there, no matter how small and weak it eventually becomes.

This was his consequence. He’s learned to accept that now.

He’s learned to walk through the hurt and try and be better.

It was hard, yes. Stumbling and tripping over his feet, hesitant to make any decision lest it be the wrong one and reset his progress. There were many times where he thought that he’d stepped over the line and that they were going to quit on him, leaving him alone again. But they didn’t. They stayed, and the stumbling smoothed out to captiousness, the hesitance smoothed into nervousness. He would not be as confident as he once was, not for a while yet, but it was a start.

He was trying. That’s all that mattered.

And now he can stand on a hill, look into the blue sky and see the colours surrounding him and he can smile. A small, serene smile made of pure content, pride for himself. He can relax his shoulders and just breathe for a moment or two.

Everything was getting better.

Until he looks to his left and see yet another consequence to his newer actions, what his pained words snarled in a patient yet hurt smiling face.

Until Dream takes that step off the edge.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

“Don’t touch me! Just…just stop trying to help!”

“I lost my entire family, my home, and he gave me the hope that I could get it back. Why should I believe that you’re not just giving me the exact same false hope?”

“Some guardian you are…”

“You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through!”

But Dream did, Cross realized it now.

Dream had lost his family, his home, too, in the blink of an eye. Not only that, but he was put in a position to fight his brother, whom had changed so much he might as well’ve been a stranger, over and over again. The pressure to do that and still be happy, or at least act like it, must’ve been immense. Cross couldn’t begin to imagine it.

They had both lost their family and been hurt in very similar ways.

Cross just wished he realized this sooner.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross didn’t try to stop Nightmare as he ran away.

He was focused on the skeleton in pain in front of them. The one who was crying, black sludge spilling down and covering his bones, tinted gold as if in reminder of what it used to be. The one who reached a hand up, to try and stop his brother from leaving, but didn’t get far before dropping it to the ground, another pained noise escaping him.

Cross was frozen. He willed his legs to move, instinct in his mind saying to turn and run away too, away from danger, away from him. But he didn’t. He stayed put, legs not listening and just watched.

Underneath the instinct was a different kind of pain. It burned instead of stinging and left his soul aching in a way he had never felt before. He was suddenly all too aware of the ring he kept in his pocket, one the skeleton in front of him had turned down. It made a lump grow in his throat and he swallowed, clenching his hands.

Dream hunched over, arms wrapped around himself.

And all at once, Cross realized something.

If his words had had any part in leading up to this…

His legs finally moved and he rushed forward, reaching for Dream, for the one he held so close to his heart, wrapping his arms around him, even though he could not shield him from something within.

If his actions had this consequence, if his consequence had given up on himself, then he would have to be the one that stayed, that brought him back.

He’ll do it, or die in the process.

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

If fate and destiny have predetermined your story, then what does it matter how you act? If your good or bad, what does it matter? What does it matter if all your actions just bring you back to the path, no matter how far you try and stray from it?

What does anything matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good can be bad and bad can be good.

This is a fact.

But does it change anything?

What does it matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

“I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you see that I’m just like you?”

“Why do we have to be enemies?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry”

“Please…don’t leave me alone again…”

“I love you.”

~oOo~

The power, the power, the power

Oh the power, the power, the power

Of LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

What will change because of this?

~oOo~

Nights at the chateau

Trapped in your sunset bungalow

You couldn't escape it

~oOo~

Dream is familiar with emptiness and betrayal. He’s watched his home burn, his mother cut in half and his brother metaphorically die. All of these were caused by the villagers, people Dream once believed to be his friend, no matter how harsh they might’ve been at times. When you see everyone you care about die by the hands of someone you also care about, that is what causes the emptiness.

This emptiness did not mean he didn’t feel, no. He felt quite a lot actually. Happiness, grief, calmness, anger…love…he felt them all, some more so than others. They weren’t smothered or dulled in anyway by the emptiness. No, the emptiness was rather just a numbness he’s gained to certain situations. He can’t change it.

It was his consequence. He accepts this.

He hasn’t accepted fighting his brother nonstop until one of them is dead.

It was disorienting when he started, almost like he was trying to wake on quicksand and every step he took only dragged him further down. Everything was new. He had to learn fast how to shoot a bow, how to dodge, how to block, how to run. How to survive. All while his brother watched and laughed in amusement.

That was what hurt most of all. The amusement. Brothers were supposed to care for each other, help each other stay safe and heal from injuries. They weren’t supposed to laugh at you while you barely dodged the tentacle aiming for your soul. They aren’t supposed to be trying to kill you at all.

He hated it.

~oOo~

Yeah

~oOo~

Apples are dangerous. They’re enticing. You want to take a bite of it, regardless of the effects it’ll do to your body and soul, in what ways it’ll warp your mind. They beckon you and lure you in, until all you can think about is what it’ll taste like, that savoury bite.

Nightmare wasn’t able to resist this temptation.

And if the saying goes that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

Then it should only make sense Dream would follow in his footsteps.

~oOo~

Drink of paradise

They told you put your blood on ice

You're not gonna make it

~oOo~

Nightmare ran away from him.

The coward.

Dream doesn’t understand why. Brothers should support brothers when they decide to become better, to change how the world sees them, to try and prove they can’t be all good. They shouldn’t run, horror etched on their face as if this wasn’t supposed to happen, that he’d made such a terrible mistake.

“You can’t make mistakes, you’re positivity! You have to be perfect all the time.”

He runs his hands over each other, taking in the new coating of sludge while he waits for Cross, his lov—subordinate to wake up. It was just like Nightmare’s, the same consistency and everything, though his had a golden tint to it, rather than turquoise.

Of course.

Even corrupted, he was still positivity.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

He felt stronger. But weaker at the same time.

Was that a thing?

He felt like he could bend people to his will, make them listen just like he wants the entire multiverse to. He can’t stop thinking about people crying as he plays out illusion upon illusion in front of them, slowly dwindling their hope and love and any other positivity until it was completely shattered.

And yet, he can’t help but get the feeling that there’s a shakiness within him. Something is unbalanced, wobbling in his soul. It feels poisoned. He has no clue what it could be. He did everything the right way, he’s proven his worth, so everything should be fine now, right?

Everything was fine.

It had to be.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross groaned behind him, making Dream perk up. “…Night…mare?”

Were they really that similar now? Interesting. The thought that his brother and him can never stop being twins makes Dream giggle under his breath as he turns, smiling as Cross’s eyes widen.

“Not quite.”

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Fate and destiny are predetermined things…but they are not a gift, no.

They are a curse.

Bad gets jealous of good and tries to prove he can be just the same as his counterpart, but only succeeds in cursing himself farther. Good is hurt by this and centuries go by.

Good gets desperate, nothing enough anymore, so he tries to prove tat he can be just the same as his counterpart, both succeeding and failing. He’s cursed himself, too.

Bad runs away, leaving good.

And now they’ve both strayed from their path.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

Or are they?

How can we tell? Who are we to say?

They will determine that for themselves, who is who.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

“…are you crying?”

“Don’t stop.”

“It feels amazing!”

~oOo~

The power, the power, the power

Oh, the power, the power, the power

~oOo~

Fate has bended and destiny is broken.

How will this change things?

~oOo~

Of LA

#my writing #my fanfiction #oneshot #utmv #dream sans #shattered dream sans #shattered dream #cross #implied cream/dark cream #dark cream #mentioned nightmare sans #dark cream week

53 notes · View notes

ahwait-no-yes · 4 years ago

Text

“Beautiful”

TW// ED?? Ish?? Just my experience and im not gonna self diagnose

(Read at your own risk!! I’d hate to trigger anyone hh)

i am looking away as i project instead of talk to people about it

(Also Kaito and Kokichi are brothers but Ouma was adopted and uses his last name because he feels it’s still a part of him and yes they’re fine with it and yes he loves his parents and they love him) also me getting worse? more likely than you think —

There’s a bit of progress.

Shuichi pushed his hand against his stomach, trying to flatten it as much as possible. He remembered reading somewhere that your lower stomach would never be perfectly flat, seeing as you had your intestines that were taller than you in there.

You probably can if you try hard enough.

Shuichi grimaced once he looked at his face, running his hand through his hair. When was the last time he showered? He probably should. He cupped his face, gently squishing his cheeks. His face looked slimmer than before.

This is good. This is progress. We won’t go too far, we just wanna loose a few pounds. There’s nothing wrong with that.

He softly smiled at his reflection, ignoring the slight shaking in his hands. He didn’t want to go too far. He heard that not eating can cause hair loss. He didn’t want that to happen, so he wouldn’t go to far.

You’re doing good. This is good.

Shuichi laid back down, gently rubbing his forehead. Were his hands always this shakey?

Probably. It’s nothing to worry about, you can still write and draw fine if you need to.

He frowned at the familiar feeling of discomfort, yet his stomach didn’t growl. Maybe his body was just adjusting. He remembered reading somewhere that not eating just makes you gain more weight.

Which, probably wasn’t true. You look skinnier when you don’t eat.

He pulled out his phone, typing a question into google.

How many calories should 18 year old boy eat?

2,400

He thought about it. He definitely didn’t eat that many. A hot pocket and instant ramen. How much was that?

Hot pocket is 600 calories.

He looked it up.

371 calories.

Yeah, he’ll be fine. He feels fine. Shuichi looked at himself in the mirror, feeling panic wash over him. He didn’t look skinnier. Had he gained weight? He hadn’t weighed himself in a while. It was possible. He only ate two things. That wasn’t a lot.

Except that slice of cake was a lot.

Shuichi laid back down, curling up in a ball. He wrapped his fingers around his wrist. They could still touch. He sat back up, ignoring how he felt dizzy and how his vision darkened for a second. He pulled down his shirt collar, running his hand over his collar bone. It was more apparent now. Not all of his work had gone to waste. He wasn’t going to make himself throw up. He didn’t want to throw up and have to deal with the burning pain in his throat that would last for hours, or feel the lack of energy after it. When was the last time he drank water? He glanced at the half filled water bottle, grimacing. Water doesn’t have calories, but it would make his stomach more obvious.

He wasn’t that thirsty anyway.

—

Shuichi sat down with his friends, who were currently talking about getting together to study. He wasn’t really paying attention, his mind seemed a bit hazy. Not too much, luckily. When an ad of someone eating came up, he frowned. It never made sense how people could just eat without worrying about what would happen.

Maybe he was just a little scared of food. No big deal. The thought of eating just made him feel sick and scared.

“Hey, are you listening Shuichi?” Kaito suddenly asked, one of his eyebrows raised. Saihara sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I spaced out. What were you saying?” “We all said that were gonna meet up this Saturday at 2 pm. Is that good?” Kaito asked, his usual confident smile on his face. “Yeah, I don’t have any plans,” Shuichi replied, tugging on a loose string. “Great! We’ll see you there!” —

This whole thing was a bad idea.

The five of them, consisting of Kaito, Kaede, Harukawa, and Ouma (including himself) were cramped into a small booth. Ouma kept throwing small bits of food at Kaito when he wasn’t looking, Kaede kept trying to stop Ouma, (though, he kept crying whenever she said anything about it) and Harukawa kept glaring at him from across the table. Shuichi didn’t have time to look over the food, (calories, really) so he just chose something that sounded good. It ended up being soup, which he was mostly fine with.

Mostly fine with.

Shuichi didn’t want to eat. He wasn’t hungry. He ate enough yesterday. “Hey, Saihara chan! You okay? You look like you swallowed a whole rock!” Kokichi chirped, an excited smile on his face. Shuichi just nodded, pulling at the loose hoodie he was wearing.

He’d be fine. It was just a bowl of soup. It’s not a big deal.

He just stirred the soup, trying to think of ways to quickly finish it. The loud noise felt so overwhelming. He just wanted to leave. To go back home. “I’m gonna be right back,” Saihara abruptly stood up and left to the restroom. He just needed some time to think, to calm down. He quickly locked himself in a stall, leaning against the door.

He felt so, so sick.

Saihara took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes. He was overreacting. If he didn’t eat, his friends would suspect something. He didn’t want to answer any questions about eating, so he’d have to eat. He shouldn’t be having to deal with this. He missed being able to eat and not think anything of it. He didn’t know when this started. It felt as if,

this,

had been going on for as long as he could remember. Shuichi rubbed away the tears that had managed to slip out. He shakily took a deep breath, (was it always this hard to do anything?) and opened the door. He didn’t say anything when he saw Ouma waiting at the entrance. “Heya Saihara chan!” Ouma walked up to the other, a soft smile on his face. “Uh, hey,” Saihara muttered, splashing his face with water. “Soo! You okay? You looked a tinyyy bit upset earlier!” “I’m fine, I just had a headache,” He murmured, the lie easily slipping off his tongue. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth either. A half truth at the best. Kokichi hummed in acknowledgement. “So, are you gonna leave because of that nasty headache?” He asked innocently, tilting his head. Trying to find holes in his story. “Maybe, I don’t want it to get worse,” He replied. More lies, more half truths. Ouma just nodded, still staring at him. Shuichi finished washing his hands and quickly dried them off, shoving them into his pockets.

Was he always so cold?

“Well, uh, I’m gonna go home. Can you tell them why? I don’t wanna interrupt them,” He looked away, fidgeting. Kokichi just nodded and placed his hands behind his head. “Sure thing Saihara chan!” — Shuichi was laying down, tears running down his face. Things were getting worse and worse, and he felt so helpless. He kept trying his best, sleepless nights studying and memorizing things he’d probably never have to use.

It didn’t matter anyway, it was never enough. He wasn’t enough.

Everything hurt. He hadn’t eaten for a while. He had two bites of egg, but it made him feel so nauseous and guilty he just threw the rest away when no body was looking. He was tired. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t do much other then watch the clock tick away, waiting for the day to be over.

A knock at the door.

Shuichi, of course, ignored it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, and didn’t want to deal with his heart feeling it was going to beat out of his chest and his vision blacking out for a a few seconds.

Though, he had gotten used to it.

The knocking continued. Shuichi groaned and stood up, grabbing onto his dresser so he wouldn’t fall. His vision took longer to clear up, and he still felt dizzy.

It’s just an inconvenience. Don’t worry about it.

He stumbled over to the door, taking a second to rub his head in hopes it would clear up the dizziness.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t work

. He opened the door, staring at Ouma grinning up at him. “Hey Saihara chan! Fancy seeing you here!” He exclaimed, eyes shining in excitement. “I live here,” Shuichi deadpanned, quietly sighing. “I know!” Kokichi chirped, gently pushing past Shuichi and walking in the house. “Uh, Ouma kun, why exactly are you here?” He asked, closing the door and following him. “Oh, you know,” He very helpfully replied, a nonchalant expression on his face. “But hey! Since I’m here, why don’t we do something fun!” He abruptly said, spinning around to face the other boy. “I don’t know, I’m kinda busy,” He replied, avoiding eye contact. “Busy with what?” Kokichi asked, getting closer to his face. Saihara backed away, looking uneasy. “With stuff,” he vaguely replied. Ouma sighed, grabbing his hand, only to let go a second later. “God Shumai, why’re you so cold?” He asked, pouting. Shuichi just muttered something, messing with the loose sleeves of his hoodie. It was quiet for a few seconds. Kokichi kept staring at Shuichi, trying to figure *something* out. Saihara kept shifting in place, feeling more and more panicked as the seconds passed. “We can watch a movie then!” Ouma suddenly exclaimed, a soft smile on his face again. Shuichi just nodded, nervously smiling back. “Do you have popcorn?” He asked. Shuichi just mumbled, “Yeah, probably.” After a few minutes, they put on a random movie and had a bowl of popcorn sitting in between them. Kokichi offered some every now and then, only for Shuichi to say no everytime.

He could just grab some.

“I’m gonna be right back, you don’t have to pause it,” Shuichi muttered, standing up. He still felt a bit dizzy, and standing definitely didn’t help. Kokichi just nodded, eyes glued to the screen. Shuichi locked himself in the bathroom and took a deep breath. It used to be he was hungry but didn’t eat. But now, the smell and thought of food made him feel nauseous.

You could eat and make yourself throw up.

He grimaced. It wouldn’t be difficult, really. He could just stick two fingers into his mouth until he threw up. He could. It’d be easy. It’d be no big deal. He shakily sighed, covering his face. He didn’t like throwing up. It hurt, and it made it even harder to breathe. It was also just gross.

But it might make things a but easier. You don’t have to force yourself to throw up, but you can try. Like drinking a lot of water.

Yeah, he could do that.

After a few laboured deep breaths, he left the bathroom and sat back down on the couch. Kokichi continued the movie (though, he didn’t have to pause it,) and smiled at him. Shuichi smiled back, wrapping the blanket around them.

Why did he feel so scared? So sad? It didn’t make sense, he was fine right now.

“You ok Saihara chan?” Kokichi quietly asked, still staring at the screen.

He’s really not. He’s not. He’s not ok. He needs to talk to someone. Something’s wrong.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” He murmured, taking a deep breath. Ouma just nodded and gently grabbed his hand, just loose enough so he could pull away if he wanted. Saihara squeezed his hand, trying to ground himself. He was

fine.

Ouma squeezed back, a small smile on his face.

Is it really a white lie if you don’t think it’s a big deal?

—————

Hm - DA ☄️✨

✧༺♥༻∞

yyeah ouch I wish I could him a hug,, the line “He couldn’t do much other then watch the clock tick away, waiting for the day to be over.“ hit me very hard so that’s what I based this end doodle on (-JJ)

68 notes · View notes

westallenfun · 4 years ago

Text

Two's Company (3/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (Happy holidays! I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend Barry Allen, but she grapples with revealing her feelings, for fear of ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may force Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rating: T (Warning: Mild Language)

The mezzanine just above the ballroom of the Time Metropolis is a well-furnished carpeted landing with at least seven chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a wide, glass balcony supposedly for onlookers to look upon the dancing masses below. There are refreshment stalls, serving a variety of beverages, and waiters carrying platters of an assortment of appetizers, including chili lime shrimp cups, fried okra, and goat cheese bites.

When the elevator arrives at the floor of the mezzanine, Iris steps out alongside her father and Cecile and sees that most people are milling around, chatting with one another. It would seem that no one has yet headed down the stairs to the ballroom, which holds the promise of a night of dancing. Furthermore, nobody seems to have noticed Joe, Cecile, and Iris’s arrival yet, as they are several feet away from everyone, which comes as somewhat of a relief for Iris, as she scans the room quickly, her eyes searching for one person only. Sure enough, she finds him, seated at a table, head pressed into his palm, a glass of wine before him, and wearing a distinctly melancholy expression. He is seated beside Cisco and Cynthia, who are conversing with one another, but looking over at him every few seconds, worryingly. Iris swallows, twisting her fingers behind her back, as she feels her sadness and anger dissipate, upon seeing how utterly torn up he looks, and she knows she must speak with Barry. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see her father giving her a reassuring smile, which she returns. When she looks back, she sees that Barry has seen her, as have Cisco and Cynthia. Cynthia appears jovial, leaving the table to come greet them, followed by Cisco, just as other guests begin noticing the new arrivals and start walking over to congratulate Joe and Cecile.

But Iris cannot tear her gaze away from Barry.

Because he’s regarding her like he never has before, as if the wind has been knocked out of him, as if he’s been rendered utterly speechless by her mere presence, gazing at her utterly wide-eyed, and the sheer intensity of the number of emotions his look conveys is too much for Iris, so she looks down at the floor, breathing deeply.

“Hi, Iris,” someone says, and Iris glances to her left and smiles politely when she sees Patty approaching towards her. She appears to be alone, which strikes Iris as odd, but perhaps what is even stranger, now that she thinks about it, is that Eddie is nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Patty,” Iris replies. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you. I think I just needed to get some rest. Between traveling and then going out last night, I think I was just over tired.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you’re feeling better now.” An awkward silence descends upon them, and Iris is unsure how to progress the conversation, but she can sense that Patty wants to say something further.

“Are you here by yourself?” Iris queries, intuitively determining that perhaps Patty’s odd behavior might have to do with Eddie’s conspicuous absence.

“You noticed, huh,” Patty bites out sardonically. “I’m supposed to be here with Eddie. In fact, Eddie is literally supposed to be here, because he’s hosting the night. But I waited for him for like thirty minutes in the lobby, and he never showed up, so I came here, thinking perhaps he’d forgotten to meet me— wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that —but he’s not here either. I’ve been calling him and texting him, but he’s being absolutely unresponsive.”

“You’re not worried, are you? Because I’m sure he’ll turn up. As you said, he is hosting this.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Patty says. “I asked at the concierge if they’d seen him, and they said he had stepped out earlier today. And that Katie was with him.” Iris’s eyebrows raise, as she takes in this information. For she now realizes that Katie is also not present, and after she and Eddie had acted so bizarrely around each other yesterday, it is not particularly surprising that there is more to that story.

“So, they’re likely not coming here tonight,” Iris concludes, and Patty shrugs,

“So much for being a great host. Anyways, how am I supposed to tell Cecile that her god son might not be attending the gala he’s throwing in her and her husband’s honor?”

“Just tell her the truth, but don’t make it seem like Eddie abandoned her. I mean, we honestly don’t know where he is or why he is so delayed, but he could still make an appearance later tonight, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Iris.” Iris nods, smiling reassuringly, as Patty heads over to Cecile who is standing a few feet away, chatting with one of the other guests. For a few moments, Iris is alone, as she mulls over Eddie and Katie’s absence, wondering what was so urgent that they had to leave right before Eddie was meant to begin hosting this gala for Joe and Cecile. Apart from his apparent inability to be a good host, it just seems so sudden, especially since Katie had been clearly trying to goad Eddie last night, by paying him no attention, and he had taken the bait with all his fuming and glowering.

A proffered glass of champagne enters her line of vision, and when Iris looks up, she sees Barry, handsome as ever in his tuxedo, holding the glass in front of her. His eyes are warm, conveying an abundance of emotions, and he’s smiling at her softly.

“Hi,” he says, almost a whisper.

“Hi,” she breathes, her voice also very quiet. They’re both gazing at each other, neither saying a word, before Barry lets out a small laugh, remembering himself.

“You look incredible,” he murmurs, as if in absolute awe, and the way he says it, with such reverence, makes her heart soar.

“Thank you, Barry. You look very handsome.”

He blushes, ducking his head, slightly, before continuing, “Uh, this is… this for you. I wanted to save a glass for you, because it’s elderflower and… you know, I realize now that there’s a bar, which I’m sure is probably stocked, now that I think about it… yeah, I’m sure it is, but at the time, I thought they might run out of glasses of champagne, because it didn’t seem like they had too many left being passed around. But I definitely wasn’t thinking about the bar. So, well, this is… for you, if you want it, of course. Do you want it? Because I can take it back and then…”

“Yes, I want it,” Iris chuckles, interrupting his rambling, which she finds utterly endearing, as Barry nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Barry. I do love elderflower champagne.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answers softly. There’s something in his voice at that moment… an emotion that Iris cannot quite pinpoint, but it nonetheless ignites an intense warmth within her, and when she glances up at him, he’s regarding her almost sadly, like he wants so very much to tell her something, but he is unable to. She wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he can tell her anything and everything that he wants, but before she can, he whispers, “You’re wearing the necklace.” Her hand comes up to touch the wedding band, and she nods, smiling,

“Of course, I am. My best friend gave it to me.” He breathes out harshly, taking a step closer towards her, reaching his hand towards hers, almost as if by instinct.

“Iris, I need—,” he begins, but he is cut off by Cisco and Cynthia racing up to the both of them, having just congratulated Joe and Cecile and chattering about Eddie Thawne’s absence, of all things. Iris has half a mind to stare them both down for interrupting her moment with Barry, but decides against it, because she knows they didn’t exactly mean to tumble in on a private moment. Barry, on the other hand, does not seem to agree with this sentiment, for he is shooting Cisco a dark look, although Cisco, thankfully, seems oblivious.

“Can you believe Eddie isn’t even here?” Cisco asks immediately, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

“I’m actually very surprised by him not turning up on time,” Cynthia replies. “I cannot imagine Eddie Thawne missing a gala that he, himself, is hosting. This is completely and utterly his element.”

“Katie isn’t here either. Apparently, she and Eddie went off somewhere earlier today and didn’t return. Patty told me,” Iris says, and Barry’s brow furrows at that, before he adds,

“I knew something was off between those two yesterday. It would maybe explain why the vibe was just completely off last night, like something just wasn’t adding up.” Iris catches Barry’s eye at that moment, and she feels her pulse race, upon the realization that Barry was apparently as completely befuddled and equally bemused about what was going on with Katie and Eddie as they all were. And that could only mean one thing, right?

“I think that much was obvious to all of us,” Cynthia replies, rolling her eyes. “Those two are a pair of absolute paragons of etiquette and normalcy when they’re around each other, aren’t they?” Everyone laughs at that, likely recalling the rather odd behavior both Katie and Eddie engaged in the previous night, which strengthens Iris’s resolve that perhaps she had been completely mistaken about what she had witnessed between Barry and Katie, although that betraying voice reminds her of the dinner at Marano’s, much to her chagrin. She is aware, though, that that is a question that needed answering. Eventually. Because at the moment she is certain that she wants to find that equilibrium again with Barry, before diving headlong into conversations that would likely change everything.

Quiet orchestral music begins to play, and a man steps up onto the mezzanine, gesturing with his hands towards Joe, Cecile, and the rest of the guests.

“I am the manager of the Time Metropolis. Mr. Thawne is unfortunately detained tonight, although he hopes to make an appearance later on. He asks that we host this night in his absence, and so if I could invite the guests of honor, Mr. West and Ms. Horton, and everyone else to please head to the ballroom, then we can officially commence the festivities.”

“Thank you,” Joe says, holding out his hand to Cecile. After she takes his hand, and the two of them begin to head down the double staircase to the rather ornate ballroom, apparently modeled after some Baroque-style palace, the rest of the guests follow. Iris can feel Barry’s eyes on her as they walk down the stairs, even though she is a few feet in front of him, and a feeling of great anticipation washes over her, as she ponders how the night might unfold.

As they reach the bottom of the staircase, Cynthia stumbles on the second to last step, and Iris lurches forward to steady her friend, but in doing so, she too loses her footing momentarily, and she thinks they might both end up tumbling down together, but just as she catches Cynthia’s arm, one hand comes around her waist, the other on the small of her back, preventing her from falling. Indeed, Cynthia is able to catch her balance, with Iris steadying her then, and she smiles gratefully up at Iris.

“Thanks,” she says, and Iris nods with a smile,

“Of course.” But her concentration is on the two hands holding her, for they’re Barry’s hands, and she is extremely aware of his touch against her bare back, his fingers gripping her gently, but firmly. She turns to look at him, just as he asks,

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Bear. You saved both of us from tumbling down stairs in our gowns,” she replies, chuckling slightly, as Cynthia smirks, watching both of them closely,

“Yes, of course Barry did.” Noticing Cynthia’s knowing look, Barry and Iris smile sheepishly, seemingly embarrassed, but Barry does not step away from Iris, still holding her, the imprint of his hands hot against her.

The live orchestra is situated near the end of the large ballroom, and the conductor raises her baton, signaling that the musicians are about to begin performing a piece. Cynthia quickly says,

“I’m going to go see if Cisco wants to dance. Bye!” Before she walks away towards Cisco who is already near the center of the room. Iris shakes her head fondly, before Barry asks,

“Do you… would you like to dance, Iris?” His tone is soft and full of longing, and Iris recognizes the gravity of this moment.

“I would love to,” she replies, her face shining with a number of emotions, and she is uninterested in attempting to mask everything that she is feeling. She wants Barry to know. He smiles, releasing his grasp around her waist and back, and holding out his hand to her, which she takes in her own. As his fingers enclose around hers, she shivers for a moment, not of any cold air, but rather because of the intensity with which she knows that she loves him.

They make their way slowly into the ballroom, where the orchestra is playing a sultry musical piece, and Barry’s left arm comes around Iris, his hand settling at her waist, while he holds her left hand in his right. Her free arm goes around his neck and for a few moments they simply sway in each other’s arms, gazing at each other. Barry leads her around the other couples, but Iris barely realizes that they are in a ballroom full of other people, for she feels, within his arms, as if they are the only two people in the world. His eyes do not leave hers for even a moment, and it is hard not to mistake what he’s feeling in that moment, for his emotions are visibly ablaze upon his face. She wonders then how she possibly could have misread one night, when there had been so many signs telling her that he feels in their most intense moments all that she feels, but she supposes that the tricky thing about loving her best friend was the debilitating fear that he may not feel the same way. The fear that if she voiced her feelings, she could lose the safe harbor of their friendship forever. But change is sometimes not only good, but imperative. And perhaps that is the most integral part of what they shared; their need to trust each other in order to fully realize that their friendship was perhaps never simply platonic ever.

Iris moves closer to Barry in his arms, as they continue to dance, laying her head against his chest, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear. She closes her eyes, savoring his touch, while Barry’s arm tightens around her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head in a soft kiss. The music crescendos as they dance, coming to a natural end, and applause from the other couples erupt around them, but Barry and Iris, break apart only slightly, both of his hands now holding her waist, while his forehead comes to rest against her own. Iris’s hands slide up his chest, resting just below his bowtie, and they both breathe deeply, trying to mentally navigate what they are supposed to do next. It is apparent to Iris now that they cannot possibly put off the inevitable any further.

“We should talk,” she says, brushing her nose against his.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, dazed. She smiles, feeling his breath fanning against her lips, and realizes then just how physically proximate they are to one another.

“Privately, Bear,” she urges softly. He nods, seemingly coming back to his senses and registering that they are currently in a room full of other people. They move apart, slowly, his hands caressing her as he backs away, and Iris immediately misses the warmth of his arms around her.

“Right. I’m sure we can find somewhere private away from all of this. It’s a hotel after all.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” she replies, raising her eyebrows. He grins lopsidedly at her, and without another word, he takes her hand and leads her out of the ballroom, and she wonders if anyone has noticed them, but finds herself not particularly caring if everyone is indeed watching their abrupt exit. Once they climb up the stairs and reach the mezzanine again, nodding politely towards a few members of the hotel staff milling about there, Barry looks around searchingly, and Iris is aware that he is trying to determine where they ought to go. She squeezes his hand, before saying, “Let’s just go to my room. Otherwise we’re going to be running around this whole hotel searching for a quiet place.” Barry lets out a breathy chuckle,

“Yeah, good idea, otherwise we’d be something like a pair of high school teenagers at prom, running around the venue for somewhere private.”

“We did miss out on prom, though. Together, I mean,” she replies wistfully. Perhaps there’s something distinctly poignant about her tone, because Barry pulls Iris closer to him, his hand settling gently at the base of her neck, and he’s regarding her, adoringly.

“But we did get our dance, even if it is thirteen years later.” She smiles, her eyes glistening with unshed tears,

“Yes, we did.” At that Barry drops his hand to hold hers once more, and he presses the call button for the elevator, and as they await the lift, all Iris can feel is both deep contentment and love.

When Iris enters her hotel room with Barry, it is with an internal sigh of relief, for the short journey from the mezzanine to the third floor of the Time Metropolis felt torturous, as they both were jittery with anticipation, but unable to truly voice anything until they were within the safety of a private room. Upon entering the room, Barry immediately begins pacing, while Iris busies herself by pouring them both glasses of water from a jug situated on the bedside table. She proffers one to Barry, and he stops fidgeting for a moment to take it.

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully, and they both sip from their glasses. Iris figures that she ought to convince Barry not to resume walking around the room, so she sits down on the edge of the bed and kicks off her heels. “You make it looks so graceful,” he sighs, coming to sit next to her, clutching his glass tightly.

“What do you mean?” she asks, and he turns, so that he’s facing her fully. Iris carefully places her hand over his, loosening his hold on his glass, hoping to help alleviate some of his nervous energy.

“Everything you do. It’s so graceful. So beautiful. I just…”

“Bear,” Iris starts, but Barry shakes his head quickly,

“You don’t have to say anything, Iris. I know that I messed up yesterday, but the truth is I’ve been messing things up for years now.”

“No, Barry, you haven’t,” Iris counters, while Barry puts his glass down on the floor beside his feet. Determining that they have now arrived at the point where all their cards are about to be laid out before them, Iris does the same with her own glass. When she places her now empty hands back on her lap, one of Barry’s hands encloses one of hers, gently prying her fingers open, so that her right palm is facing upwards, resting on her knee, before he interlocks her fingers with his. He brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles, slowly, reverently. “Bear…” she whispers, but she is unsure what to say, recognizing that they are on a precipice of change.

“I owe you an explanation. I owe you so much more than that, but perhaps I can start with an explanation. But first, I am so sorry, Iris. About last night. I didn’t… I obviously was taken aback when I saw Katie again, and her over-friendliness was a source of confusion for me, but I guess I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with everything she was saying, but I shouldn’t have even let her say anything. And if I’d been unable to stop her, I should have shut down all of the absurd insinuations she was clearly trying to make. I was put on the spot, not that that’s an excuse, but when I saw you… when I saw your face, I knew I’d screwed up really badly. Because to see you look so upset and to know that I was the reason for it, I don’t… god, Iris, it felt like a knife to my chest, and all I could think about was how much of an absolute idiot I am,” Barry begins, speaking rapidly, voice trailing off at the end, and he’s looking at her so earnestly, as if the worst thing in the world to him is being the cause of even an ounce of her sadness, and goodness she just wants to take his face in her hands and tell him that he is her happiness. But she stops herself, because she knows they have to get through this conversation.

“Bear, I’m not upset or angry with you now. But I was, especially right after Katie said what she said, when we had had that moment in my room just hours before, when you came to give me this.” And here she picks up the wedding band sitting between her collar bones to emphasize her point. “It just felt like everything we had shared had been rendered insignificant in that moment. Like it was nothing. And then I thought I had maybe read the moment wrong, but whenever I go over what happened in my head, I know that you were feeling what I was in that moment.”

“You weren’t reading that moment wrong, Iris. Not for a second,” Barry says, using his free hand to cup her cheek. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes for just a moment. “We almost kissed in your room, and I… there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. And then Cynthia interrupted, which wasn’t her fault, obviously, but I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t extremely frustrated, especially because we seem to have been interrupted throughout our lives a countless number of times.” He chuckles ruefully then, but Iris’s breath hitches, as she mulls over his words, particularly, there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. If only she could ask him then how he truly feels about her. If only she could tell him how she truly feels about him.

“But what about the dinner at Marano’s?” she queries, instead, for that betraying voice in her head refuses to let her move past that. Surely, Katie did not completely make that up, for even if she was simply saying all that she did to get a rise out of Eddie, telling complete falsities seemed a step too far. And there was the added anxiety that Barry had not corrected her then.

“Yeah, yeah, that was… Katie completely mischaracterized that dinner. I know it was dinner at Marano’s, but what she failed to mention is that Matt, who’s her cousin, as you know, was there as well, and the whole thing came about, because Katie showed up when I was tutoring Matt, and Old Mrs. Rogers was adamant that we all go out to dinner. But she was feeling unwell, and nonetheless insisted that we go, and it was impossible to say no, especially because Matt really wanted to go. I’m… I should have set the record straight last night, because I knew what Katie was trying to imply, and she was completely wrong on that account,” Barry replies, all in one breath, and he looks so pained that he’d let this fester, without correcting Katie’s white lie immediately, but Iris lets out a soft laugh, then,

“If you could have seen the scenarios I’d somehow managed to cook up in my head… Looking back, I realize they were probably irrational, and I should have just asked you, myself, but I was devastated and angry, and I think I just needed time to myself at that moment.”

“Iris, I am so, so sorry. Just the thought that you’d been in any kind of pain, because of me… god, I’m such an idiot,” he says, his fists clenched on his lap, and his tense form causes Iris worry. She frames his face with her hands, caressing his cheek with her thumb, hoping to soothe him. She leans in to rest her forehead against his, and for a few moments, all Iris can hear is their breathing, as she feels some of the tension in Barry’s muscles dissipate.

“It’s okay, Barry. This is not your fault. We just both stumbled into a series of romantic mishaps, because of someone else’s lies. But we’re here now,” Iris soothes. Barry grins at that, fully relaxing then.

“Romantic mishaps, huh?” he teases gently. She moves away from him just slightly to look at him properly, chuckling,

“Would you characterize it otherwise?”

“Not at all. Especially because Cisco said that you and I have been constantly tumbling into romantic mishaps throughout our entire adult lives. I was so mad at him, both last night and today, because he kept saying that I couldn’t call you or text you… and you should have seen me today. I was oscillating between walking around like a zombie and ranting at Cisco about how he could put me through this. He wouldn’t budge, though, repeatedly telling me that I needed to give you a day’s worth of space and that I’d see you at the gala. And I was going out of my mind the entire day. But now,” he says, bringing his hands to her waist, slowly, tentatively. “I think maybe he was right.” Iris silently agrees, because despite her initial frustrations over Barry having not reached out to her today, Cisco was probably right in refusing to allow him to call or text her. They both clearly needed the day to work through their emotions by themselves.

“Well, Cisco is quite wise,” she remarks in response.

“Drove me insane today, but yeah, he has his moments,” Barry jokes, and Iris laughs. “God, I love your laugh.” Iris raises an eyebrow at that, as she simultaneously runs her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if relishing her touch.

“You love my laugh?” she asks in jest, but his expression becomes solemn, and he pulls her closer to him, his hands remaining on her waist.

“Always have. I remember,” he begins, slowly, carefully. “…When we first met. My mom had brought me to the playground when I was ten, and I’m pretty sure I was upset about the new move to Central City, so she probably took me there, so that I could blow off some steam. And I’d somehow managed to swing myself so aggressively that I’d tumbled headfirst into the dirt. I was so angry and annoyed, and I’m pretty sure about to start crying, but then there was this small hand…” At this, one of his hands release her waist, and he grasps her hand, intertwining their fingers. “…Reaching out to me. That was when I’d first met you, and you were smiling and asking if I was okay, and I’m sure I said something stupid, because I was kind of in awe. But you laughed and told me that I was funny, and I’m quite sure… no, I know that that was the moment that I fell absolutely in love with you, Iris. Or maybe it was a year later when my dad died, and you found me crying in a corner, hours after everyone had left, after they’d all come by to pay their condolences, and you stayed up all night with me, holding me. Looking back, I knew I loved you then. But when you’re a kid, you can’t truly fathom love, but I knew I had a total crush on you, and when I was about sixteen years old, I identified that what I felt for you was love. I was in love with my best friend, but I didn’t know how to tell you, because I was so afraid that I would completely ruin our friendship. And yet, the years that have past since our childhood and young adulthood just strengthened my feelings. I’m more in love with you today than I was when we were children.” As Barry speaks, he holds absolutely nothing back, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and Iris tells herself to steady her breathing. Because she is aware that if she is completely honest with herself, she has known that Barry reciprocates her feelings for a long time, but to have him tell her, to have him say that he’s in love with her… there is nothing that could prepare her for this moment.

“You’re incredible, Iris,” Barry continues. “I don’t think you even realize how amazing you are. You jump headlong into seeking the truth, with little care to your own safety, because you so innately believe in the importance of preserving justice and saving lives. You see the best in people, no matter what, but most of all you inspire people. I’ve told you time and again that you’re my hero, Iris West. But more than that, whenever I see you, it’s akin to coming home for me. I’ve struggled with the concept of home and where that might be for me, especially after my dad died when I was a kid, but I’ve realized that home is not a place. It never has been for me. Instead, it’s a person. It’s you. Whenever I need to get away from the rest of the world, my safety net is you. You’re whom I always run to. Because you’re my home, Iris, and you always have been. I love you deeply. And I promise that I’ll dedicate every day to loving you… if you’ll have me of course.” Tears spill from Iris’s eyes then, which Barry immediately catches with his thumbs, gently brushing them aside, as he cups her face. He’s smiling so widely at her, his own eyes glistening, and she finds herself contemplating how surreal this moment truly is.

“You really have quite a way with words, Barry Allen,” she says, her voice shaking, slightly.

“Only for you. You’re the storyteller, after all. I’m just the boy luck enough to love you,” he replies, and Iris’s heart soars, completely overwhelmed with love for the man sitting before her.

Then she begins,

“Well, I suppose I should tell you about the day that I am quite sure was a moment of exceptional clarity for me. We were in the eighth grade, and I was overworked as Editor of the Central City Junior High Gazette, because none of my fellow cub reporters were completing their articles on time. Unfortunately, not all fourteen-year-olds took their responsibilities as junior reporters in training as seriously as I did mine. It was nearing the end of the day, and I still was short two articles, and I was nearly in tears over the stress of the realization that I was going to need to cover two stories, myself, in a matter of twenty-four hours, because we needed to fill the page quota necessary for publication. The door of the classroom opened, and you enter, and I didn’t know what it was about seeing you then, but the moment I saw you, the dam broke, and I was sobbing. And you raced over and hugged me and asked me what was wrong, and when I told you, you simply said that we were going to find two stories to cover together and that you’d stay over at my place for the entire night, if you had to, helping me. And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.

Because the truth is Barry, you are my rock. You’re always there for me no matter what, and I didn’t know then why I finally cried only when I saw you, but I know now. I felt safe to fully release my frustrations and anxieties, despite still being in school, because you were with me. Whether you’re entering Jitters to meet me or racing through the doors of the Citizen with Big Belly Burger take-out, I’m home the moment I see you. I love you, Barry. I love you so, so much, and I’m completely yours. I always have been, and I always will be.” At the end of her declaration, Barry is gazing at her both lovingly and ardently, and he says,

“And I am totally yours.” With his hands still cupping her face, he surges forward and captures her lips with his, kissing her hungrily and passionately. This kiss is years in the making, and there is no easing into it, as Iris gasps into Barry’s mouth, her hands climbing up his chest, until one hand settles at the nape of his neck, while the other remains near his heart. She presses herself even closer, wanting to be as physically proximate to him as she can, and he evidently wants the same, for he secures one arm around her back, pulling her smoothly into his lap, until she’s straddling him underneath her long gown. There are vague warning bells in her head, reminding her that she might tear her dress, but she is hardly concerned about that, figuring that her dress can certainly weather a night of her finally kissing the love of her life.

Meanwhile, Barry’s hands have bunched up the skirt of Iris’s dress to her hips and are roaming the smooth skin of her now bare legs, and his mouth leaves hers and moves to the skin below her earlobe, before slowly kissing the side of her jaw and then her neck.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” he murmurs huskily, then.

“I think you might have,” she chuckles, breathlessly.

“Well you look absolutely beautiful,” he responds, before kissing her again, this time more languidly, taking his time to really explore her mouth. Iris responds, cupping his chin with one hand, equally enjoying his more relaxed kisses as she did his passionate kisses moments ago.

She then pulls away for a moment, and Barry groans, chasing her mouth, but instead she undoes his bowtie, with nimble fingers, and takes in his flushed lips, dilated pupils, and mussed up hair, and she’s sure she has never been more content than in this very moment.

“I love you,” she says, as he buries his head in her chest and mumbles something incoherent. “Bear?”

He turns his head to the side, so that she can hear him when he states, rather hoarsely,

“Iris, when I said I was yours, I meant it. Seriously, I’d literally do anything for you.” Iris smirks at that, maneuvering his head gently away from her chest, so that they were eye to eye, before replying,

“That could turn out to be a very dangerous statement, Barry Allen.” Barry grins, rising to the challenge.

“I’d be more than happy to indulge in a little danger where it involves Iris West,” he responds. Iris raises her eyebrows at that and brings her lips to Barry’s, coaxing his mouth open with hers. He wraps his arm tightly around her lower back, while his free hand dips under the hem of her gown, bunched up at her waist, brushing his fingers teasingly against the soft skin of her abdomen, while she runs one hand through his hair, as the other unbuttons his dress shirt. Her hips buck against his, as she caresses his bare chest with her thumb, soliciting a moan from him, which she quietens by deepening their kiss.

Barry lifts Iris, then, and in one movement lays her on the bed, as he hovers over her, before gently moving his lips from hers to trail soft kisses down the length of her neck. Just as he reaches her collarbone, there is a loud banging on their door, and Barry groans loudly, dropping his head to her chest. Iris sighs, running a hand through his hair, when a voice that most definitely belongs to Cisco yells out,

“Barry? Iris?”

“If we ignore him, do you think he’ll go away?” Barry mumbles, just as Cynthia says rather loudly,

“We know you two are in there, so don’t pretend you can’t hear us.” Barry audibly grumbles, while Iris chuckles,

“Baby, I admire you wanting to ignore those two, but I really don’t think they’re going to leave.” Barry lets out a puff of breath that fans against Iris’s skin, and he slowly rolls away from her, sitting up and placing a pillow in his lap, perhaps in an attempt to be discrete, although privately Iris knows that Cisco is absolutely going to comment gleefully on his friend’s state of disarray. Meanwhile, she gets up and adjusts her dress, so that it falls back over her legs and walks over to the vanity mirror, grabbing a make-up cloth to wipe off her now smudged lipstick. She’s quite sure that she’s already sporting love bites on her neck and shoulders, but she cannot seem to bring herself to care about concealing them.

Once she’s satisfied that she’s as presentable as she can possibly be, given the circumstances, she opens the door of her hotel room and sees Cisco and Cynthia standing by the threshold, both wearing similarly smug expressions.

“Iris!” Cisco says, clapping his hands together, dramatically, while Cynthia scrutinizes her, before asking,

“What’s that on your neck?” Although her tone suggests that this is no innocent question, and she’s simply trying to put Iris on the spot, Iris refuses to take the bait, instead querying,

“Are you two going to come in? I imagine you’re here to deliver urgent news.”

“Patience,” Cisco replies, jovially, as he enters the room and spots Barry, sitting on the edge of the bed. At this sight, Cisco seems positively gleeful. “Nice pillow, Barry.”

“You are an ass,” Barry mutters darkly, not bothering to greet his friend.

“Love you too, man. And by the way,” Cisco chuckles, throwing his arm around Iris. “It’s because of me that this happened.” He gestures between Barry and Iris. “Without me apparently putting Barry through absolute misery today, the two of you would have continued your decades long song and dance of refusing to acknowledge that you are madly in love with each other.” Iris shrugs off Cisco’s arm, rolling her eyes, fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Cisco,” she says.

“Mmhmm, forget West-Allen Matchmakers. I think Ramon and Sons, Experts in Match-Making is the real success story.”

“Is that so? Because I’m pretty sure the two of you have been clearly enjoying each other’s company, and Barry and I can definitely take some credit there,” Iris replies, raising an eyebrow, and Cisco blushes at that, tucking his shoulder-length hair behind his ears.

“Well, for two people who apparently are champions at setting everyone else up, you sure took a ridiculously long time getting your respective acts together,” Cynthia retorts. At this, Iris saunters over to the edge of the bed, sitting next to Barry and leaning her chin on his shoulder, while he takes one of her hands in one of his.

“Maybe. But we’re here now,” Iris replies, as Barry kisses her forehead.

“Y’all are cute, I’ll admit,” Cisco says, and Cynthia smiles at the sight of them together.

“So why are you here?” Barry asks, stroking Iris’s knuckles with his thumb. In response, Cisco grabs a chair near the vanity and sits down, while Cynthia seats herself in a cushioned armchair by a round coffee table.

“So…,” Cisco begins, pausing for dramatic effect, although his anticipation is not reciprocated by either Barry and Iris, who do not prompt him. “Alright, so, guess who showed up just now, roughly halfway through the ball?” Cisco does not wait for an answer, however, the question apparently rhetorical. “That’s right. Eddie Thawne, accompanied by Katie Rogers. Their appearance so late in the game is not even the real crazy thing, because you’ll never guess what happened when they arrived. Okay, so the two of them show up, and they’re dressed for the occasion, and they head over to Cecile and Joe, where Eddie apologizes profusely, naturally, but then seems to reveal something to Cecile which makes her absolutely ecstatic. And she’s crying and hugging Eddie. Needless to say, we were all quite curious as to what could possibly be going on, but Eddie dispels the suspense quite quickly, when he and Katie head over towards the orchestra, and he abruptly stops the musicians and conductor, before taking a mic and claiming he has a big announcement.

He apologizes sincerely for being so late, but explains that he has a reason for being late, and this reason is that he has big news that will bring everyone at this ball great pleasure. And he proceeds to announce that he and Katie just eloped and got married.” At this, Barry and Iris exchange flabbergasted looks, before turning back to Cisco.

“Excuse me?” Iris says, as Barry’s brow furrows contemplatively.

“They got married,” Cisco repeats, shrugging his shoulders. “I know, I know. But that’s where they were today, apparently. Getting married. I’m ninety percent sure, though, that this was a decision made on the fly.”

“But they clearly were having some sort of argument yesterday that we all were not privy to.”

“Yep. I still don’t know what that’s all about, but I have a theory from talking to Katie afterwards. I obviously went up to congratulate them, because what the hell else are we supposed to do, and I was like, ‘Oh this is very nice and all, but this seems sudden.’ She was really cagey, but kind of let it slip that she was pissed that Eddie was keeping their romance a secret from his family, who wouldn’t approve of his involvement with her or some crap, so Katie had given him an ultimatum of her own that if he didn’t get serious with her, she was going to leave him. Guess that kicked his ass into gear.” Iris notices Barry watching Cisco closely, as he takes this in, nodding along. Cisco’s explanation appears to have given him some clarity on the situation.

“That makes sense,” Barry sighs, shaking his head. “I think I may have somehow ended up as the scapegoat, while Katie was trying to make a point to Eddie. But it’s just… god I’m such an idiot, because all the while, Iris was hurt by all this mess, and that is on me… I should have been clear about setting the record straight.”

“Hey, Bear, it’s okay,” Iris soothes. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Barry exclaims. “It does matter, because all of that hurt you, Iris. And it’s just… god, this is my fault, and…” But Iris has heard enough, and she grasps both his hands in her own.

“Barry,” she says firmly. “We’ve been over this. What happened last night was not your fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known about Katie and Eddie’s romantic drama. It seems like nobody knew that they were secretly dating.”

“You’re right,” Barry replies. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, but just the mere thought of Katie’s callousness, by trying to insinuate what she did about me and her, all because she was trying to make Eddie jealous, having hurt you is so infuriating.”

“I love you,” Iris whispers, brushing her lips against Barry’s jaw, just as Cisco clears his throat loudly,

“Hey, I know y’all are in that insufferable, just got together officially phase and all, but we’re still here, and I haven’t even gotten to the best part of the story.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia interrupts, clearly fed up with Cisco’s prolonging. “Patty dumped a glass of wine over Eddie’s head.” Barry and Iris turn to each other, sharing a surprised look, as Iris observes,

“And here Barry and I were thinking that we’ve had our fair share of romantic mishaps. Seems as if we don’t really know what actual romantic mishaps encompass, after all.” Cisco, however, is clearly affronted that Cynthia had botched his story-telling,

“That’s not how you tell a story, Cyn. You have to ease into the best part to build up the anticipation.”

“Please, there’s no building up anticipation with Barry and Iris, other than them anticipating our departure.”

“True,” Barry says, chuckling. “And also, I know Eddie definitely didn’t deserve to get wine poured all over him, but that’s undoubtedly a sight that I’d have liked to witness.” Thus, Iris is reminded of one remaining mystery, namely the prickly nature of all of Barry and Eddie’s interactions that she has witnessed, so she inquires accordingly,

“By the way, Bear. Why do you dislike Eddie so much? I don’t recall you two having spent all that much time together to have developed animosity towards each other.” Barry’s eyes widen at that, and he resembles a deer caught in the headlights, which Iris, naturally, finds incredibly endearing.

“Oh my god, you never told her?” Cisco cuts in, looking positively maniacal at this discovery. Barry begins shaking his head frantically at Cisco, but his attempts at preventing his friend from talking are of no avail. “So, the first time Barry and Eddie crossed paths was at some garden party Cecile hosted, and you took Barry as your guest or something. I don’t know the details, because I only have secondhand information from Barry, but basically Eddie tried to insinuate that he might be interested in you to goad Barry, probably, because he, like everyone else except for you two, knew how you both felt about each other. Anyways, Barry had some really harsh words for Eddie, and since then the two of them can’t stand the sight of each other. Talk about the world’s fastest rivalry for no real, concrete reason.”

“I hate you,” Barry groans, burying his face in his hands, but Iris refuses to let Barry wallow in embarrassment, so she nudges him with her shoulder, leaning into him.

“I think you having… how did it Cisco put it?… Harsh words… is hot, Bear,” she says. He turns to her, with a small smile,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He cups her cheek with one hand, his fingers burying into her hair, and kisses her soundly.

“Ugh, okay, okay,” Cynthia interrupts, getting up. “We’re leaving. Have fun, you two.”

“See ya!” Cisco yells, as Cynthia takes his arm and pulls him to the door. “And remember, this is because of me. I’m the real matchmaker around here.” Once they exit the room, Cisco still chattering away, Barry releases an audible sigh of relief and mumbles,

“Thank god.” Iris laughs, leaning her forehead against his, closing her eyes, before stating,

“You do know that I was never interested in anyone but you, right? I could never really make it work with anyone else, because I was so in love with you. I am so in love with you.”

“I know. And I never could be interested in any other person other than you, not when you have always had my heart,” Barry replies, before continuing, “Also, just to clarify, Eddie and I don’t despise each other or anything; we’re just never going to be friends.”

“Mm, well, I don’t think you two will be seeing each other very often outside of occasional social gatherings.”

“Yeah.” They stay like that, foreheads resting together, taking comfort in each other’s arms, before Iris says,

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this moment.” Barry smiles widely at that, adjusting so that he’s holding her face in both of his hands.

“Iris, you have no idea how deeply happy you make me,” he whispers against her lips, his tone reverent as he acknowledges the depth of his love for her. “I love you. I love you so, very much.” A tear escapes him then, which Iris wipes away gently with her thumb, before pressing her lips to his, as she delights in the knowledge that he is hers to love and she is his to love for the rest of their lives.

One and a half years later

Iris sighs contentedly, leaning back against Barry’s chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. She is seated in his lap, like a bride (which, in fact, she is), her white tulle skirt fanning around both of them. All around her there seems to be a flurry of activity, as she assesses the myriad of guests in attendance at her wedding reception.

Wally and Linda are attempting to feed their baby twins, and despite their bemoaning that they cannot quite get this parenting thing down, they seem to be doing a wonderful job at soothing their agitated twins and getting them to eat some mashed foods, which they had brought with them in portable Tupperware. Every time Linda manages to feed a twin, Wally gives her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek, which seems to highly amuse the babies, who giggle uncontrollably at this.

Her father, with whom she had recently danced the father-daughter dance, is regaling some folks with stories about when she was young and how he always knew she was going to grow into an absolute journalistic star. Usually, Iris would be embarrassed by her father’s bragging, but today she lets him sing her praises, for it is her big day after all. Cecile is chatting with friends at a table, and seated near her are Eddie and Katie Thawne, whom Cecile requested be invited, much to Barry’s chagrin, and who are also expecting a baby, as Katie is already sporting a baby bump. Patty is also in attendance, which Iris had initially worried might be awkward, given that there is a good chance that Patty would run into Eddie, but Patty recently reconnected with an old boyfriend, and she brought him as her date. Plus, Patty has managed to completely ignore the Thawnes, at least thus far. Cisco and Cynthia, who have been dating for over a year now, appear to be in their own little world together, heavily flirting with each other at their table. Caitlin and Ronnie are sitting next to Cisco and Cynthia, but they don’t seem particularly concerned with the other couple’s flirting, for they are preoccupied with entertaining their two-year-old daughter.

Allegra, Kamilla, and James are all laughing about something, and Iris is glad that they are enjoying themselves, for she knows that last week was a highly stressful time at the Citizen, because they had finally published a piece, on which all the Citizen’s reporters worked for weeks on end (now a team of nearly fifty reporters, for the amount of positive publicity that had resulted from the McCulloch Tech exposé had catapulted the Citizen into journalistic stardom, particularly after Iris had been awarded a Peabody Award and Kamilla a World Press Photo Award for their work on the article), exposing a massive eviction scam, which implicated three local politicians. So, Iris is grateful that the three reporters seem to be relaxed and happy, the stresses of last week hopefully dissipating. As for Kara, she appears to have discovered the scrumptious doughnut display near the dessert buffet and is evidently in heaven.

Iris’s Great-Aunt Esther sits at the head of the West family table, friendly, but reserved and still ever so beautiful. Barry and Iris are seated one table down from her, and when Great-Aunt Esther catches Iris’s eye, she winks at her favorite grand-niece, perhaps reinforcing the sentiment that she had voiced to Iris earlier that day that she is the happiest she could ever be to see her dearest grand-niece marry the love of her life.

“Your Mama, My Francine… she would be so proud of the woman you have become,” Great-Aunt Esther tells Iris right before Joe arrives to walk her down the aisle. Tears roll down Iris’s cheeks, as her Great-Aunt gathers her into her arms. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“I miss her so, so much. Every single day,” Iris whispers.

“She is always, always with you.”

The memory from this morning is one Iris knows she will cherish deeply, but while she relives that moment, she notices that there now appears to be trouble, for Barry’s mother, Nora, joins Joe, and they both start telling the tale of how they knew Barry and Iris were always going to get married from the moment they witnessed the two interact as young children. Surely, the two of them would somehow manage to recount the numerous occasions on which Barry and Iris play-acted getting married as children, usually with a stuffed dinosaur presiding.

“When Barry came home from the playground that day after meeting Iris,” Nora says loudly, “He went running up to his dad and said, ‘Dad! I met the most beautiful girl in the world today. I think I want to marry her.’ And my late husband said, ‘Well, slugger, love is about reciprocity. Focus on getting to know her. And who knows, maybe one day, we’ll be attending yours and Iris’s wedding.’ And here we are.” Upon hearing his mother retell this particular story, Barry drops his forehead to Iris’s shoulder, groaning quietly, so that only she can here.

“It’s bad already, and they’re just getting started,” Barry mutters, kissing his wife’s shoulder. “I think we should make our great escape right about now.” Iris smiles, running a hand through Barry’s hair, as she feels Barry’s lips move upward, slowly beginning to trail kisses from her shoulder to her neck.

“Bear, if you’re trying to get me to agree to leave with you right now…” Iris whispers, attempting to maneuver herself discreetly so that the guests cannot see her husband kissing her neck.

“Is it working?” Barry asks, looking up at her and smiling.

“You know it is,” she sighs, and he appears supremely smug at that. “But we do have to stick around for a while longer, after all this is our wedding reception. We can’t just cut out early.” Barry mumbles his half-hearted assent, although he seems unconvinced, before caressing his fingers against Iris’s arm, gazing at her, suddenly contemplative. “What is it?” she queries, softly.

“I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re here, finally, at our wedding reception. I think it really only hit me that I’m marrying you when I saw you walk down the aisle, and you are so, so beautiful and amazing and wonderful, and I realized that I’m truly lucky enough to marry the girl of my dreams,” Barry replies, and Iris frames his face with her hands, leaning forward gently, so her forehead rests against his.

“Those tears were real huh?” she teases, gently. Barry chuckles, and because they are so closely pressed together, she feels the reverberations of his laugh against her own chest.

“Completely real.”

“So were mine,” Iris says, her lips just a hair’s length away from his. “Because just as it was overwhelming for you to watch me walking down the aisle, I was incredibly overwhelmed with happiness and love seeing you standing at the end of the aisle, looking so dapper, and knowing that I finally get to marry the love of my life, who is the most amazing man that I know.” Barry’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, touched by her words, and he brushes his nose against Iris’s, murmuring against her lips,

“I love you, Mrs. West-Allen.” Iris responds by kissing him once gently, and they are silent for a few moments, foreheads still touching, and contemplating the depth of their love for one another. Then, Barry shakes his head fondly and remarks, jokingly,

“You and I are complete saps.”

“Eloquent saps,” Iris corrects, laughing. “But that’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

“Mm, true,” Barry says, taking her hand in his own and bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing her fingers one by one. “I love you so much, Iris.”

“I love you,” Iris replies, before her expression becomes more mischievous. “It’s a shame we don’t have balloons at our reception.”

“Why? Were you planning on wrangling some into our car? Personally, I’d be game. I only got to witness you successfully fit those balloons into your car last time, an admirable feat, I might add.” Iris shakes her head fondly, feigning mild exasperation, while Barry laughs.

“Spoken like someone who has never had the view from his rear mirror constantly marred by inflated balloons,” Iris sighs. “And so no, I do not want to attempt to take any inflated balloons with us in a car, but I guess I was just feeling slightly nostalgic, because it was at my dad and Cecile’s wedding reception that I think I realized that I’ve always been in love with you.” Iris looks down at their intertwined hands, while Barry’s gaze becomes solemn, then, as he tucks an errant strand of hair that had come undone from her elaborate bun behind her ear.

“Well, that was also the night I first really told you how I felt,” Barry replies, and Iris glances up at him, surprised. “Yeah. Do you remember when I said that something incredible has always been in front of me, and I just really should throw caution to the wind?”

“I remember. You were talking about me. About us,” Iris whispers, and Barry nods, caressing her cheek gently, his touch warm and comforting against her skin.

“Yeah. I guess that was one of the many times I really came close to spilling my heart out to you, but Linda was also there, and I figured your dad’s wedding reception probably wasn’t a good place to tell you how I feel. Although I do think the spirit of weddings prompted that particular confession that night.”

“It’s silly now, looking back, but I remember thinking that you were talking about someone else at the time, and that’s when I truly realized that I am absolutely in love with you and have been for years.”

“I know that was all cleared up quite quickly, but I could never have been ever talking about anyone else,” Barry says, and Iris smiles, turning her face into his hand and placing a soft kiss on his palm.

“I know, Bear,” she replies, but from his expression, she can sense his adamancy about providing abundant clarity.

“It only has ever been you, Iris. It only has ever been you,” he whispers, and she lays her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath her palm, before murmuring,

“And you’re the only one. You’ve always been the only one. And you and I have the rest of our lives to tell each other every day.” Barry adjusts, so that she is completely encircled by his arms, while he presses his lips to the crown of her head, as she, in turn, wraps her arm snugly around his waist.

“The rest of our lives,” he echoes, as his arms tighten around her. Iris smiles, glancing up at Barry, and remarks,

“Sounds pretty amazing, doesn’t it?” And he grins widely, bending his head towards hers and whispering,

“Absolutely incredible,” against her lips, before kissing her soundly.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

38 notes · View notes

echo-bleu · 4 years ago

Text

all this time I had feathers

This is a fill for my @shadowhunterbingo square Christmas Fic. It's part of my map out a world series (with autistic Alec), but it should stand on its own. I only remembered I had a Christmas square on my Bingo yesterday, so this is written in two days and unbetaed!

Our boys run into some competing access needs over Christmas. I've given hints that Magnus has ADHD in this series and it's still not really explicit here, but I will write a fic more focused on that at some point.

The title is from a truly beautiful theater play that's unfortunately only available in French, Plume by Alistair Houdayer. The play uses a bird as a metaphor for autism and the full sentence is "All this time I had feathers and you lied to me?" (translation is my own). It's about discovering that you're autistic after years of being shut down and ignored.

Read on AO3.

Alec sighs internally as he opens the door to the loft and hears music. It’s been like this for days and he can’t take it anymore. Magnus has been hanging lights everywhere and blasting Christmas songs at every chance, and Alec’s headache hasn’t left him for days. Thankfully Christmas is tomorrow, so maybe it will stop afterwards.

Although that might be too optimistic. Alec has never really done anything for Christmas before, beside a quiet exchange of presents with his siblings, but he knows the decorations in shops don’t go anywhere until the new year. That’s one week away. He’s not sure he can do this without blowing up again.

He takes a deep breath. The last time he was here, this morning before his shift, Catarina and Madzie had dropped by to bake cookies with Magnus and Alec barely managed to contain himself until they left, exploding as soon as he and Magnus were alone. He said things he didn’t mean, and things he definitely didn’t mean to say in anger. He doesn’t even know where all that rage comes from – it’s just a deep, twisted feeling inside, his skin crawling until he can’t take anymore of the twinkling lights and the cheesy songs.

He stormed out and he and Magnus haven’t talked since, not even by text.

“Alexander,” Magnus says coolly when Alec finds him in the apothecary, bent over a potion of some sort. The smell coming from it is horrendously strong, though not bad per say. It smells like mint and maybe cinnamon – not that Alec is very good at identifying scents, but they’re ones that he usually likes.

“I’m sorry,” Alec forces out, even if the irritation is rising in his chest again. “I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t know what came over me.”

Magnus looks at him for a moment. “I have to admit I didn’t expect to spend most of Christmas Eve wondering why we’re even fighting,” he says slowly. “But you were obviously angry, and it can’t have been because of the flour all over the kitchen, since I cleaned that up straight away. Can we sit and talk about it calmly?”

Alec nods, breathing through his nose to avoid the now overwhelming smell of mint. “Are you nearly done with this?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll just bottle it up and then I can join you. Make yourself comfortable wherever you want.”

Alec breathes in relief that Magnus isn’t so angry that he’ll ignore their comfort for the sake of arguing. But it makes what he’s about to ask all the harder.

“Would you please turn the music off?” he asks as neutrally as possible. He knows it comes out monotonous and emotionless, and he sees Magnus tense at it.

But contrary to the expected retort, Magnus looks up and assesses him for a moment before he sighs.

“Oh, Alexander,” he murmurs, and the music stops. “Go. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Alec nods and turns on his heels. The sudden quiet in the loft feels like heaven, although he can’t look anywhere without being assaulted by bright and colorful Christmas lights. In the living room, he freezes for at least a whole minute, trying to decide between the comfort of the couch and the table where there are slightly few visible light garlands if he sits facing the windows. The choice feels too hard to make right now and—

Alec makes himself move and goes for the bedroom instead. Magnus said wherever he wants. They usually avoid having fights in the bedroom to keep it a sanctuary of sorts, but maybe this is a needed exception.

He flops down on the bed, looking in dismay at the fairy light garlands hung all around the room. He doesn’t hate fairy lights, he’s the first to admit that they’re pretty – when used with some semblance of moderation. Not when they cover every square inch of the walls. He sighs and closes his eyes, slipping under the covers despite the fact that he’s fully dressed. The weighted blanket immediately grounds him.

He hasn’t slept properly in a while. Maybe that’s what’s making him grumpy. There’s been a surge of demon activity in the city, on top of all the Clave ceremonies he has to attend this time of the year. That means he’s been on call or in Alicante almost every night, and sleeping during the day with this damn music on is near impossible.

When Magnus finally joins him, he’s nearly asleep. He presses his fists into his eyes, trying to force the tiredness out of his head. Magnus doesn’t say anything as he removes his jacket and slips into bed beside him. He still smells faintly of mint and cinnamon.

“Darling,” he says softly after a moment. He reaches out, but he doesn’t touch Alec, settling his hand an inch away from Alec’s arm.

Alec tries to make himself cross the gap between them, but it feels too big right now, his skin still crawling. He makes an aborted motion of apology.

Magnus picks up one of the long golden necklaces he’s wearing and offers it to Alec, without removing it. It has a pendant at the end, tiny intertwined circles that can spin around each other. Alec latches onto it without even thinking about it, finding comfort in both the stimming and the connection to Magnus.

“Can you speak?” Magnus asks. He soft, gentle. Not angry. Alec doesn’t understand – he deserves all of Magnus’ anger and more.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He’s not sure he can hold a long conversation, but here under the covers, the lights hidden by the blankets, he feels better, like a fog is lifting from his mind.

Magnus taps the mattress with a finger by Alec’s head. “Have you been overloaded this whole time?”

“I’m not—” Alec starts immediately, but he stops mid-sentence.

Oh.

That’s what it is. The irrational anger, the constant irritation, his inability to focus. His speech has been as unreliable as his sleeping pattern, but he’s long learned to make do with groans and looks. The constant buzzing in his brain, the exhaustion that only he seems to feel…

“I don’t know,” he amends. “Maybe?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alec bites his lip, focusing on the necklace he’s fidgeting with rather than on Magnus. “I didn’t realize,” he says.

“Was it just the music?” Magnus asks, unclasping his bike chain bracelet to match his fidgeting. Alec shifts his stare from his own hands to Magnus’, the repetitive movement soothing.

He tries to think about the question, to push it through his mushy brain and figure out an answer. He really is tired, in that way that doesn’t make him want to sleep so much as hide in a quiet corner. He knows that he’s taking too long to answer, but Magnus waits patiently.

“The music...the lights, too. Everything’s too bright. And...too many people.” They’ve had someone over nearly every day, wether it’s Cat and Madzie or Dot or Raphael or Clary and Simon, and occasionally Magnus’ other Downworlder friends Alec has never met before. After whole shifts at the Institute, coordinating patrols and trying to stay on top of things, or fighting demons in back alleys, all he wants is some quiet and peace.

“Alexander,” Magnus buries his face in the mattress. “I’ve been overloading you this whole time and I didn’t even notice.” He turns back toward Alec, his voice no longer muted. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alec says. “You didn’t know.”

“I did not, but you still deserve an apology. How did we let get so far?”

“I—” Alec hesitates. “You seemed happy.”

Magnus shakes his head. “My happiness cannot come at the price of yours. I want you to tell me when it gets too much. When I get too much.”

Alec catches Magnus’ wrist in his hand, intent overwhelming his touch-avoidance. “No. It’s not you. You’re never too much for me, Magnus.”

They’ve only spoken a few times about Magnus’ history with that phrase, about his own difference, his own deviations from the norm, but Alec knows it’s something deeply ingrained. Magnus has been told he’s too much too often in his life, and Alec will not let him belittle himself that way. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t realized it myself,” he says. “It’s like...background noise. After a while, you can tune it out and you don’t even hear it anymore, but it’s still draining.”

“But why would you tune it out, instead of just telling me to stop it?” Magnus asks, not moving his hand from Alec’s grasp. Alec releases him and intertwines their hands instead.

“I didn’t...think of it,” he tries. It’s not true, not entirely. He didn’t ask, because Magnus liked it. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to be a killjoy, as his siblings have too often accused him of being. He didn’t want to take this little bit of happiness away from Magnus because he’s an oversensitive simp.

He doesn’t voice that thought, because he knows what Magnus would think of it. And he supposes that’s progress, in a way.

Magnus understands anyway. “You’ve been so used to your perceptions being ignored that you don’t know how to set boundaries,” he says slowly. “Am I wrong?”

Alec shrugs with the one shoulder that’s not against the bed.

“You like the lights, and the music,” he says. “And the baking, all the Christmas stuff.”

“I do. But we could have found a middle ground. You can’t sacrifice your comfort for mine.”

Alec bites back that it’s what he’s always done. It’s not true. It used to be, maybe, with his family, but with Magnus, he’s never had to do that. Magnus is always so attentive, anticipating his needs before he can even ask.

So the least Alec could do is let him have this.

“Why do you like Christmas so much?” he asks softly, rather than dig further into it.

“It’s not really Christmas,” Magnus confesses. “I’m not religious, and I don’t care much about the meaning of it all. But it gives me an excuse.”

He pauses, and Alec simply waits, nodding encouragingly.

“I often get...sad, in the winter,” Magnus continues. “I don’t know if it’s what the mundanes call seasonal depression, or if it’s because I’ve lived so long and lost so many people during the winter months, but this time of the year is always hard for me. So I do everything to try and cheer myself up. I usually throw parties almost every night, just to surround myself with living, breathing people – and vampires, who thrive on the longest nights of the year.”

“You haven’t thrown many parties this year,” Alec remarks.

“No, I know you don’t like them and I didn’t want you to feel excluded—”

Alec tenses. “You shouldn’t stop for my sake! Did I prevent you from doing something that helps you?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Only in the same way that I forced you to bear things that were too much for you. We neglected to talk about it when we should have.”

Alec sighs and curls up on himself a little more.

“Besides,” Magnus adds, “This year, I have you. My very own living, breathing Nephilim to keep me warm. I’m better than I’ve been every other year. I just...I got scared that it would happen again, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. So I went a little overboard with the Christmas cheer.”

“A little?” Alec gives a small laugh.

“Okay, a lot. You told me you’ve never properly celebrated Christmas before, so I wanted to give you the full experience, and keep myself busy in the process. I never stopped to think about how it could affect you. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Alec murmurs.

“Whatever for?”

“The...communication failure? I’m trying, but it’s not...easy.”

Magnus smiles softly, running his thumb over the back of Alec’s hand. “And that’s okay. As long as we’re trying. We just need to check in a little more often.”

“Okay,” Alec nods weakly. “We can try that.”

“No more music,” Magnus says. “I’ll dim all the lights.”

“Music is fine if it’s low,” Alec corrects. “And maybe not when I’m trying to sleep.”

Magnus closes his eyes in dismay. “I’m—”

“Stop apologizing,” Alec interrupts him. “Been there, done that. Let’s move on. I promise I’ll try to tell you if it gets too much again.”

“Okay. What do you want to do now?”

Alec thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. He still feels slow and his head aches, though the worst is passing.

“Can I hold you?” Magnus asks.

Alec opens his mouth to say yes, but he’s not ready yet. He gives Magnus an apologizing look and a tiny shake of his head.

“I think I need to clear my head,” he says slowly. “Just...think. It’s not against you at all, I just need to be in my own mind for a bit.” He needs to center himself. He feels scattered, like he’s been open and exposed to the elements and he needs to just be himself again.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Magnus starts to rise.

“No!” Alec stops him. “I’ll go. Walking will help. I’ll be back soon, promise.”

He jumps to his feet, eager to go now that he’s made the decision. He forces himself to check that Magnus doesn’t seem too worried or angry, but Magnus simply nods, looking a little surprised but not overly concerned.

“I’ll be here,” he says simply.

When Alec walks back into the loft two hours later, he does it with a measure of apprehension. He feels better, but he’s not sure what to expect.

There is music coming from inside, but it’s different. It’s not a cheesy Christmas song, and not even one of the classical pieces Magnus tried that Alec enjoyed marginally better. It’s something modern but also slow, quiet even though it permeates the entire loft. It’s soothing.

The lights are out. That’s the first thing Alec notices, because everything has been so bright for so long. He thinks for a moment that maybe Magnus went out, went to celebrate with friends who actually enjoy the holiday. He feels a pang on guilt at that – okay, a whole bucket of guilt. He’s been a grinch, and he knows it. But he couldn’t think with all those lights and noises.

The only light on is a fairy light garland that’s magically running in a single thread over all the walls in the loft, casting a soft light without actually being bright. The rooms themselves are plunged in darkness, and Alec toes off his shoes and lets his coat and scarf fall to the floor and he pads over to the living room by feel, relishing the lack of pain assaulting his eyes.

The music is louder in the living room, but not so much that it’s painful. Alec blinks twice as he takes in the sight in front of him.

In the middle of the dark room is Magnus. He’s wearing nothing but a dark leotard, and his skin is lit by swirling strands of while magic, curling around his arms. He’s dancing.

Alec doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath.

Magnus’ face is briefly illuminated by his magic, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He hasn’t heard Alec come in. He seems to have banished all the furniture in the room, and he’s spinning on one foot, en pointe in ballet shoes. Small bursts of magic come out of his hands as the song picks up, swirling through the room like a wispy light whip.

Magnus starts moving faster, the ribbons of light following him. Alec knows very little about dance, but even he can tell that Magnus’ style is unique, not solely ballet but also not quite modern dance. Alec almost gasps as he does what he can only describe as a back flip and lands smoothly on his feet, spinning once more.

It’s an incredibly beautiful sight. Alec stands at the door, transfixed, until the song ends and Magnus ends the dance by lowering himself down to the floor, crossing his legs under him. The light around his body dims progressively – no, that’s not it. It seems to sink under his skin, until his whole body looks like it’s glowing. Magnus gracefully runs his hand down his arm, guiding the light inside him until it reaches the tip of his fingers and explodes in a shower of sparkles.

When everything quiets, Alec lets out the breath he’s been holding. It feels like he should applaud, but he’s loath to break the silence. Besides, he doesn’t know if Magnus would take it well, right now.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Magnus whispers, his eyes still closed.

So he did notice Alec come in.

“Magnus, it was incredible,” Alec murmurs, letting the quiet carry his voice.

Magnus opens his eyes and looks at him. They stay still for a moment, the dark room between them, eyes easy to meet in the shadows. “I like the lights and the sounds, but they’re just filling a void,” Magnus says in a soft voice. “I was trying too hard.”

“It’s okay if you need them,” Alec says. “We can find a way to meet in the middle.”

“But I don’t. I wanted to feel warm and safe, but I didn’t realize that I’ve never felt as warm and safe as when I’m with you.”

Alec smiles, the words seeping into him with their own warmth, after the cold of the streets.

“Dancing makes me feel alive,” Magnus continues. “And I’d forgotten that, too.”

“You were beautiful.”

Magnus stands up smoothly and extends a hand. “Do you want to join?”

“I don’t dance,” Alec says.

“Just let go and only look at me. My magic will help you.”

Alec tries to match Magnus’ light steps as he walks toward him. He feels a jolt when they link hands, almost like the first time, over that summoning pentagram. Magnus pulls on his arm and Alec lets go of his control, relinquishing himself to the light touches of magic he can feel over his skin.

The music starts again. Light ribbons swirl over them both as they spin together. Magnus jumps to his pointes and spins around in Alec’s arms, and their height suddenly match. The only light is the magic twirling around their limbs, immaterial and teasing. Magnus grips Alec’s forearm and lifts himself effortlessly off the ground, spinning around Alec’s body until he’s in his arms again, his back arched.

The light dims to almost nothing, sinking into their chest. Their mouths meet.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs.

Alec kisses him again.

I'm working on an illustration of the dance scene but I wanted to post the fic tonight while it's still Christmas!

Maybe it shows that I've been watching Tiny Pretty Things. The show is kinda terrible but I love watching people dance.

Magnus here is technically dancing the part of a woman, which is why I've use the GNC Magnus and Nonbinary Magnus (as he's nonbinary in this series). Pointe shows are also traditionally worn only by women. In my mind, Magnus trained for both roles at different times in his life and he's fine with dancing either part.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #mine #echo's fanfiction #map out a world #shbingo #hmdiscord #malec discord server #autistic alec lightwood

33 notes · View notes

tailorvizsla · 5 years ago

Note

Momma Mando might I request #19 Domestic Life and #12 First Time with Paz? (Im here for the softz and the spicy apparently?) ~your Angle

Absolutely, my Angle! :D

(Everything is under the cut because I am an absolute dumpster fire of a person and could not control myself. Be ready for filth!)

📚 My Master List 📚

Domestic Life

· Paz usually wakes up pretty early, so he goes to take a shower. When he’s done, he crawls back into bed with you. It might sound weird, but Paz likes watching you sleep, occasionally pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and wondering how he got so damn lucky to marry you.

· As it gets closer to the normal scheduled wakeup time, he starts touching and kissing you everywhere, mapping every part of you that he can reach. He can’t help himself – he has to have his hands on you. Paz is very affectionate in private.

· When he knows you are awake (but still pretending to sleep), he moves down to your sides and tickles you until you break and start to laugh. He loves it when you tickle him back because it usually devolves into play-wrestling. He lets you win sometimes.

· When the alarm goes off, he unwraps the blankets from around you, much like he is celebrating Christmas every morning by your side. After a few stolen kisses, he ushers you to the bathroom (with an affectionate swat to the backside, if that’s your thing).

· From here, he goes to get ready for the day. If you have kids, he’ll get their bags lined up on the table. He’ll put on his own armor and set yours out on the table for you. By now, you’re usually done with your shower, so he gives you something small to eat before physical fitness training – usually a piece of jerky or a boiled egg, just something small to get you through the next few hours.

· If you two have kids, the smaller ones go to the nursery for supervision, while the older ones stay in their beds to sleep in. You and Paz go work out with the rest of the tribe. By the time you are done, the older kids are awake and getting ready to go eat breakfast.

· And oh boy, breakfast is noisy for the Tribe. The children are either sleeping in their plates or wrestling in the aisles – there is no in-between for this lot. You and Paz (and the kids) eat in one of the private rooms so he can take his helmet off. Then you go socialize with people until breakfast hour is over. Sometimes, he will cuddle you in his lap and selfishly keep you all to himself.

· (One time, you two stayed in the private room way past the end of breakfast hour, prompting some smartass to come knock on the door and yell, “This might be a family room, but that doesn’t mean you need to make one in there!”)

· Once the kids are all distributed to their designated teachers for the day, you and Paz share a keldabe kiss and part ways to work. He goes to the armory to do weapons maintenance, or to help someone fix something. Some days, he goes to the shooting range to run morning drills, just so he can keep everyone sharp. Other times, he’ll grab someone who is struggling with something (shooting, sparring, life in general) and coach them through it.

· You two always find a few minutes to sneak off and send the other a sweet message. (Or a loth-cat meme.)

· Lunch is usually eaten alone, though sometimes you and Paz will sneak off for a few minutes alone with each other. (If you have kids, they’re off having fun and don’t want to be supervised because they get away with so much more.)

· After lunch, more work. Paz goes to oversee afternoon drills for the adults, though these aren’t that common. Most of the time, after morning lessons, he and a handful of adults can be found taking the kids out for basic survival lessons. This includes things like building fires, hunting prey for food, and learning to track. Other times, he’s helping teach the kids how to use their jetpacks, flamethrowers, and other weapons.

· When the sun starts to set, everyone does one last walkthrough of the grounds to make sure that everything has been collected and put away. Once indoors, everyone takes a shower and heads to the karyai for dinner. Dinner is a lot quieter than breakfast, since the kids are usually worn out by this point.

· After dinner, the elders take the kids to teach them about Mandalorian history and culture while the adults go take care of communal chores (like cleaning, organizing, and finding whatever the children have broken). When that’s all done, some people go to the karyai to play music and socialize, while others have to go to bed early. You and Paz stay for a few songs before retiring for the evening.

· Once back in your room, you and Paz will take your time getting ready to sleep. If you’re feeling particularly saucy, you and Paz will have a rematch on that wrestling match. 😉

(Your) First Time (was) with Paz Vizla ohhhh yeah, now at the 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥SPICY🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 stuff

· Paz Vizla is attracted to strong, confident, and competent partners. The two of you met during combat. You had been taking cover behind some rubble to reload your weapons and he had dived in with you, quite literally running into you. Just a few moments later, someone tried to take the two of you by surprise. So you had whipped his blaster out of his holster and shot the fucker dead. Paz had been torn between being offended and impressed at your quick reflexes as you cheekily put his blaster back where it belonged.

· (Hint: he was smitten from that moment onward.)

· For six long months, he flirted with you. He started subtly at first – brushing up against you, standing a little too close during conversations, and warning off other potential suitors. Subtlety didn’t sink in, so he decided to ratchet up the intensity. He shared his ammunition with you. He lent you his weapons. He offered you food from his plate. He shared his drink with you. He bought you chocolate. He complimented you. He did everything that he could, yet it never seemed to progress past flirtation.

· At some point Din Djarin noticed the lack of response and slyly chimed in with, “Come on, stop torturing Paz and let him have a kiss, why don’t you?”

· Paz will never forget the moment that it seemed to click in your head. You stopped dead in your tracks, turned to face him, and asked, “Paz, have…have you been flirting with me?”

· He was stunned into silence and could only manage to nod once in response as you just stared at him. Then you shyly said, “Oh…I didn’t want to assume you would be interested in me.” (Din nearly knocked himself out face-palming at your words.)

· From there, things progress the way he intended, though still quite slowly. The two of you share lots of flirting, a quick grope every now and again, and many stolen keldabe kisses when no one is looking.

· You aren’t sure what tips him off about your inexperience – maybe it’s your shaking fingers when it comes time to explore his lower half, or maybe the look of apprehension in your eyes – but he stops you, pulls you into a gentle embrace, and kisses your forehead.

· Paz assures you that he will wait as long as you need, that your relationship isn’t based on you indulging his physical urges, and that you mean so much more to him. (But dear gods, the sweet wide-eyed look you gave him after holding his cock in your tiny hand for the first time…he masturbated to that mental image for months.)

· It takes a few more fumbling tries before you are ready. (You had always been a bit self-conscious about not having any sexual experiences. Even now that you’ve enjoyed your first sexual experience, you’d still choose a good hunt over fucking. Paz knows this, and he would do the same 100%.)

· As the two of you tumble back onto the bed, he makes you a promise, one that makes your cheeks turn pink. “I’m going to ruin you for any other man in this universe, babygirl,” he promises. “I’m going to be the one they all have to measure against, alright?”

· Paz Vizla is a very patient man. He worships you with his fingers and mouth and that sinfully talented tongue of his, touching and kissing, sometimes biting if you will let him. He has you breathless, soaked, and trembling before he even thinks about going down on you.

· When he gets between your legs, the look of pure hunger on his face makes you blush, and you shyly try to bring your knees together.

· Leaning in, he locks eyes with you, and presses the tip of his tongue against your clenching, aching entrance. Then slowly, he drags his tongue up to your swollen, throbbing clit. He pulls away just far enough to speak, “You taste real good, babygirl. Looks like I’m going to be spending a lot of time down here.” He is quite pleased with himself when you turn scarlet all the way down to your belly button.

· Once he’s had that first taste of you, Paz returns to your pussy, devouring you like a man possessed. He talks to you the entire time, telling you how good you taste, of how much he wants to stay between your thighs and make you come undone, over and over on his tongue, of how he enjoys being drenched in your slick.

· He gives you two or three orgasms before he tries any sort of penetration. He watches you carefully as he eases his finger in. You sigh with pleasure and that’s enough encouragement for him. He works that finger in and out until he hears a quiet whisper from you – “Paz, please – another finger?”

· The moan you let out when he works his second finger in almost makes him cum right then and there. But he holds it back until you start begging for a third finger. When you come around his fingers for the sixth (or was it seventh?) time that night, he thinks you are ready for his cock.

· Paz kisses his way up your belly, to your breasts, and then your lips. You don’t hesitate to taste yourself on his lips. He grinds his cock against you, coating himself in your slick, until you’re all blushing and grinding your hips against his.

· He rises up on his knees and looks at you. You are an absolute disaster – your hair’s a mess from your writhing, your pupils are blown wide open, and your entire body is blushed and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Your chest is heaving, your back is arched, and your thighs are spread so fucking beautifully for him. Paz feels deep, dark pride at having reduced you into a quivering, whining, dripping mess.

· He starts to push in slowly, carefully measuring each rock of his hips to avoid hurting you. He knows he is huge. Many of his partners simply could not take him. Inch by inch, Paz watches his massive cock disappear into you, and suddenly, he realizes he likes watching you stretch out around him, your plump lips clinging to his shaft each time he pulls out a bit.

· After several torturous minutes, Paz finds himself buried to the hilt inside you, his pubic bone pressed up against your clit. In surprise, he can’t help but to whisper to you, “Babygirl, it’s like this sweet pussy was made to take my cock.” When you clench around him, he can’t help himself. He needs to move. Urgently.

· Paz bites on his inner cheeks as he starts a slow, careful pace, watching as you moan and writhe underneath him, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You’ve gone absolutely feral at this point, your nails leaving bright red marks along his shoulders and back, your thighs tight around his waist as you dig your heels into his ass urgently. With one final cry, you come for him, your walls squeezing him so tight he feels like you’re gonna push him out.

· When you’ve had a minute to catch your breath, he laces you legs onto his shoulders and arches forward onto his hands. Now that he knows you fit him like a glove, he’s rougher, pulling out nearly completely before sheathing himself fully in one smooth, deep stroke. When you reach down for your clit, he can feel your cunt rippling around him. Then he asks, “Babygirl, can I come in you?”

· Blushing, you nod up at him, “Yes, please!” Paz can’t hold out at that – he slams into you, wrenching half-sobs from your throat, your body rising to meet his, and then you come with a shriek. He follows, pulsing his cum into you as deep as he can, grinding against you to draw out his orgasm as your pussy milks every single drop of cum out of him. When he can breathe again, Paz rests inside of you for a few moments, watching you as you lay there, your eyes half-closed and a dazed smile on your face.

· He pulls out with a wet noise, watching as you squirm. He stays between your knees, watching as your legs fall apart on either side of him on the bed. As his cum starts to leak back out, he gathers it with his fingers and pushes it back into you. Slowly, you gather your withs about yourself, and ask, “When can we do that again?”

· By the end of the night, he’s absolutely certain that he’s fulfilled his promise to you. There won’t ever be a man who can compare to him, not after tonight.

#paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #blame hdlynn for this #i am innocent in all ways #i cannot control myself #paz is daddy #rejoice in the filth #where's that 'kermit on fire' meme right now

155 notes · View notes

skzsauce01 · 4 years ago

Text

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 11

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: violent thoughts; conspiracy to murder; actual murder

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST this is the end!︱chapter list

A glooming peace this morning with it brings.

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things.

Some shall be pardoned, and some punishèd.

For never was a story more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

With its stalks of purple-blue flowers, monkshood is undeniably a beautiful plant. Jisung tends to it every day, despite his mother’s insistence that she should be the one taking care of her gift. He merely shrugs, and by Thursday evening, the monkshood is sitting on his bedroom windowsill.

It’s all part of his plan, of course; Jisung has other intentions for the plant other than making the house look pretty. When his parents are soundly sleeping, Jisung clears his desk of homework and textbooks and brings over the potted monkshood. He double-gloves his hands and begins pulling out the flower. He almost feels sorry for doing so, but it’s going towards a greater cause. Once its roots are out of the soil, he puts them down on an old cutting board he found stashed in a kitchen cabinet. He picks up the fruit knife he bought yesterday and begins dicing the root as finely as he can. His desk light is dim, and he strains to see the tiny wisps.

Jisung smiles to himself as he continues his work. The sound of the knife against the wooden board is soothing to hear, and he’s pleased by his progress. He places all the bits into the mortar and pestle he stole from the chemistry stockroom, and he begins grinding it into a powder. He’s careful to not inhale any of the dust by tucking his nose into the collar of his shirt the entire time. He regrets not putting on a face mask before starting. The grinding process produces gravelly noises, and he pauses in fear of being caught. There’s no reason to worry when both his parents are heavy sleepers, but beads of sweat form at the nape of his neck anyway.

When he’s satisfied with the results, he carefully tips the powder into a vial identical to the one used by the play. It’s more than he needs, so he puts the extras into a ziploc bag. In order to hide the extreme bitterness of the root, he spoons some sugar — from his home kitchen, not stolen — into the vial as well. He rubs the extra grinded root around the lip of the vial, making sure that all of it is covered. He then caps and shakes it until it mixes into an unassuming light brown powder. Tomorrow he’ll complete the final steps of his potion making.

He wipes down everything around him, making sure to leave no trace of any of the monkshood. The plant is effectively dead now after his work, so he disposes it into a trash bag along with his stained gloves. If his mother asks about the flowers, he’ll say it died since he overwatered it. Then, bag in his hand, he creeps out to the garbage bins set out for trash service and drops it in.

It’s 3 AM, and he needs to wake up in three hours, but he doesn’t even feel close to tired. There’s a renewed sense of energy and purpose coursing through him. He spends the rest of the very early morning lying in bed instead of sleeping. It’s likely that he’ll regret it, but the adrenaline keeps him bright-eyed until the sunrise.

He’s nearly all prepared for the final showing of Romeo and Juliet.

—

However, before the final showing can begin, Jisung needs to get through the Saturday show. He leaves his own vial in his desk drawer and puts on his crew shirt over his hoodie. He arrives before the mandated call time, and like last week, certain actors are running lines while the scarce few members of the tech crew hang around in the back of the auditorium. Felix is demonstrating some kind of fancy footwork to Minho in the wide aisles, while Chan and Jeongin are watching with interest. He supposes that Minho’s alright, despite him being friends with Hyunjin. Speaking of Hyunjin, he or you are nowhere to be seen, so Jisung assumes the two of you are cuddling together somewhere.

Why, yes, he is still a little bitter. Not as much as monkshood root though.

As the time approaches 5:30, the rest of the crew arrives, and Minho has to return to the stage to rehearse the fight scene again. Chan’s the one who stays by the lobby doors to let crew members inside this time. You and Hyunjin eventually emerge from whatever dark corner you were cozying up in. Jisung heads backstage, and he’s essentially forced to watch the two of you flirt with each other while the other actors run lines. Hyunjin intertwines his fingers in yours, touching your knuckles and teasingly bringing them up to his lips. You take your hand back at the last second, only letting a ghost of kiss brush across your skin. It ends with strawberry red cheeks and shy laughter.

It’s a good thing that he didn’t bring the monkshood and sugar mixture with him. He would have replaced the prop with it in a heartbeat. He’s over you, he says to himself. Just in a different way.

The comms in his ears are noisy, and they grow noisier when the doors open. Audience members start coming in, and the countdown begins.

Soon, the main curtain goes up. The magic of the play — if there was even any to begin with — has died for Jisung, and he doesn’t pay too much attention to it anymore. He can hardly believe that he once compared you to the sun. Hyunjin has massively improved in the balcony scene, and you gaze lovingly at him, no acting required. A mess of emotions — envy, anger, disgust, possibly love — resurface, and Jisung snaps his eyes back to the gardening forum he was reading yesterday. He concentrates on the words on the screen.

Depolarization. Immediately. Burning. Paralysis. Asphyxia. Severe.

For most of the show, he is. When the death scene occurs, he fantasizes about the revised version that will be happening tomorrow night. He feels his spirits rise, and he replays the moment in his head over and over again. He doesn’t even realize the play ends until the lights go out and the audience starts cheering. He jerks out of his daydream and mockingly claps for the cast. You hold hands with Hyunjin and bow on stage, and the room grows louder. Hyunjin smiles at you, and before you can change your mind, you stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. You bury your face in Hyunjin’s shoulder, while everyone goes wild. No one but Jisung has seen the two of you kiss off script before.

Jisung holds his own head in his hands, trying to stop his head from pounding. His whole body dissolves into shakes, and he’s angry at the reason why. He can’t have you, and the whole world seems to think you and Hyunjin are the perfect fit. He can’t take refuge in the restroom this time since there are bound to be people inside.

“Jisung?” Yugyeom asks. He gently touches his shoulder, and Jisung flinches. He takes his hand back. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he bites out. “Just got a headache.”

“Oh. You want water or something?”

“I’ll get it myself.”

He rushes out of the auditorium and to a nearby water fountain. He drinks and drinks, water dripping from his chin and onto the linoleum floor, forming small puddles. He looks and feels like a feral animal. With the back of his hand, he wipes the lower half of his face.

Then with a straighter posture and a false aura of cheeriness, he heads to the back of the auditorium as he normally would. You and Hyunjin are missing, and he can only imagine what is happening between you two now — illicit kisses and possibly more. He sinks down into the cushy seat, willing it to swallow him. All everyone wants to do is talk about the curtain call.

“Ryujin was right,” Chan says. “He really is in love with her. Did you guys see the way he looked at her?”

Jeongin pretends to swoon. “They’re actually Romeo and Juliet.”

“You are paying attention to the play, right?” Ryujin says.

As anticipated, they banter over Jeongin’s poor word choice and semantics. Jisung sinks lower into his chair until only the top of his hair is showing. Changbin, sitting beside him, nudges him and gives him a look that says, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Headache,” he lies before changing the topic back to you and your love life. “You think they’ll last?”

Ryujin and Felix nod, Seungmin and Yugyeom shrug. No one explicitly says no. Jisung is disappointed in his friends and eager to prove them wrong.

A few actors come to return their mic packs, and you’re among them. You’re out of your costume and in a familiar hoodie. Jisung looks away, doing his best to remain calm. You look like you want to talk to him, but he injects himself into Changbin and Jeongin’s conversation, leaving no point of entry for you. You eventually give up, and you’re out of his sight soon enough. Hyunjin comes down the aisle minutes later and compliments Felix for his great work.

Hyunjin is closest to Felix out of everyone in the tech crew, but Jisung can’t help it. The question, “What about the rest of us?” bitterly slips out.

Hyunjin looks taken aback, but he nervously laughs it off and assures him that everyone else was just as good. The lighthearted atmosphere fades away and is replaced by an awkward tension. Luckily, Mr. Gi saves the day by announcing that it’s time for notes. Hyunjin scurries away, grateful to be out of that situation, and everyone else, Jisung included, is relieved that they can focus on something else.

After notes, Jisung doesn’t drive home immediately. He sits in his car, which is right behind Hyunjin’s. You’ve been letting Hyunjin drive you home recently, and he expects the same thing to happen tonight. He’s holding onto a tiny thread of hope that you will break up with your new boyfriend or come to an epiphany that Hyunjin is not the right person for you. If something like that does happen, he decides, he’ll change his plan and only target Hyunjin. This is truly your final chance to change your fate.

Nothing of the sort occurs. He watches from his rearview mirror as you get into the passenger seat of Hyunjin’s car. After Hyunjin himself gets in, he tugs at the collar of your — his? — hoodie and pulls you in. So, Jisung watches as your two silhouettes become one. Before he can spiral out of control, he starts his car, revving the engine as loudly as he can to try to break the two of you apart. He tears out of the parking lot before he sees what happens next.

It doesn’t matter though. It wouldn’t change anything.

—

Sunday. D-Day.

Sunlight streams in through his bedroom window, and when he checks his phone, it’s nearly 2 PM. He stayed up until four, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off. The melatonin he took before going to bed didn’t kick in until it was too late. Now he groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and stretches until he hears all the bones in his spine pop. The rest of his morning, or rather afternoon, is standard. He rotates between feeling the effects of not enough sleep and being feverish of what’s to come. His heart skips beats every time he thinks about you and Hyunjin’s final scene together. He takes out the vial of monkshood from his desk drawer and gets to work.

Again with double-gloved hands, he carefully fills the vial with water from his bathroom sink. He counted the number of drops of green food coloring Yugyeom added last week, and he drops in the exact amount with the coloring he stole from the culinary classroom. Next he adds more powder around the rim and caps it shut. He shakes it, and the mixture turns into a sickly green. He then wipes the outside of his false vial before disposing of his gloves and tucking the container in his hoodie pocket. The cast and crew shirt he wears over it is bulky, and the lumps it forms conceals the bump made by the container. On his drive to school, he touches it with his free hand to ensure it’s still there.

He’s early again, so he sits with his unsuspecting and unassuming friends in the auditorium. He wants to swap and prepare the vials already, but he doesn’t want Yugyeom to dump them out by accident. For the next ten minutes, he endures Changbin’s complaints about math and the pterodactyl screeching from some minor characters on stage.

Before the tech run through begins, Jisung heads backstage and reorganizes the props in a haphazard fashion so that when Yugyeom sees the mess, Jisung can swoop in and offer to change out the water. Yugyeom gladly lets him take care of it.

Jisung does exactly that, and no one is none the wiser. Both the poison and Juliet’s sleeping potion are laying innocently on the prop table. He smiles at his deft work and cheerfully helps Yugyeom with the rest of the reorganization process.

“Thanks, Jisung,” he says as he sets the swords to the right side. There’s still a clutter of props around. “You’re a lifesaver.”

How ironic. However, he keeps his mouth shut about it. “No problem.”

“Yeah. It was all neat last night, too,” he laments.

Jisung fake sympathetically nods, and Yugyeom continually sighs. They fortunately finish before the doors open, and there’s even time left over for Jisung to pester Felix in the comms.

You and Hyunjin arrive backstage at the same time. Jisung mindlessly replies to the remarks from Felix as he watches the two of you out of the corner of his eye. Hyunjin is being more open about his affection, and you don’t seem to mind one bit. His arms are wrapped around your shoulders, his chin rests on top of your head. You’re babbling to Ryujin about something while your hands are holding onto Hyunjin’s forearms. Jisung’s almost numb to the feeling of anger at this point, and he looks elsewhere.

The lights go out, and the main curtain goes up for the final time. There’s thundering applause before the lights turn back on to reveal the chorus members on the stage. Jisung returns to his usual schedule of following instructions from his stage manager and floor chief and scrolling through his phone. He’s diligent that night, running on and off stage with set pieces. He sees you trying to approach him while waiting, but he pretends to be engrossed in whatever silly conversation is happening in the comms. You finally catch him off guard when you’re finishing up your costume change.

He gets up to drink water — he told Changbin beforehand — and you tap him on his arm. You’re barefoot, and your new shoes are lined up neatly by your feet.

“Hi, Jisung,” you nervously greet. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to apologize for being rude about not taking your hoodie a few nights ago,” you quietly say. You don’t even look at his face; your eyes are pinned to the wall. “You were trying to be nice, and I’m sorry for the way I acted. And…” The next part comes out in one rushed breath. “I’m sorry if I led you on. I never meant to do that. Hyunjin mentioned that he thought you were interested in me, and I just wanted to let you know that he and I are dating now.”

“Okay.”

“What do you mean ‘okay?’”

“I understand,” he says, though the monotone voice he uses indicates otherwise. “You didn’t lead on at all. We’re good.”

“Oh! That’s— that’s good!” you reply. You seem relieved, and a little bit of your usual sunny personality is back. “Are you going to District 9 after the show?”

The conversations you have with him always go back to two things: food or the play. He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I am. I gotta go.”

“Oh! Sorry!” You step to the side and let him pass.

At the water fountain, Jisung drinks an excessive amount of water, more and more liquid dripping down his chin. He imagines what it will be like when Hyunjin takes the last sip of his life. Will you notice him struggling to stay alive? Will you care? Or will you let the show go on and suffer the same fate yourself?

He heads back and broods in his seat. You have already forgotten about him and are whispering to Yuna about the upcoming scene. He turns the volume of his headset up and joins in on the chatter to forget about you. Jeongin is muttering about how he’s hungry already, and Chan mentions that he can buy something to eat during intermission. Jisung offers to buy him something if he can name the lead actors of the play. Jeongin sighs with exasperation, while everyone else snickers at the joke.

During intermission, Jisung buys a bag of chips from the concessions table and waits in the lobby with Jeongin as he eats. He has nothing better to do in that time.

“This is definitely worth being yelled by Ryujin all those times,” he remarks. “Want one?”

Jisung hasn’t been able to view chips the same way since the first day of rehearsal. He keeps seeing Hyunjin tossing the bag to you and you stupidly smiling at him. He only bought chips for Jeongin since it was the cheapest item available. A bit of anger bubbles inside him, but he tamps it down. “I’m good.”

Jeongin nods. He tips the bag back and catches all the crumbs on his tongue. He then crumples it up and tosses it in the trash can. “See you after the show.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Jisung, instead of waiting by the soundboard, goes backstage and waits with the rest of the floor crew. There’s a group of people — made of actors and tech crew members — playing Word Chains together. You’re sandwiched between Friar Lawrence and Yugyeom.

“Hey, Jisung. Wanna play?” you ask. You still seem a little scared of him based on the way you shrink, but you’re trying to play nice.

Jisung plasters on a false apologetic smile over the snarl that’s threatening to form. “The show’s going to start soon.”

A wave of murmurs breaks out, and everyone scrambles to get ready. Yugyeom goes to reorganize the props again, and you ask Ryujin to retie the ribbon in your hair. Jisung is mildly pleased by the chaos he has created.

Intermission ends, and the play resumes with Juliet meeting Paris. The death scene is only one act away, and it’s suddenly starting to sink in that tonight will be the last time he’ll ever see you walking, talking, speaking, breathing again. And you don’t even know it.

Something inside him relishes the power he holds over your life and Hyunjin’s as well. His fake smile transforms into a real one. Jisung rests his hands behind his head and counts down to the awaited scene. As each scene passes, his heart thumps louder and louder in anticipation.

Yugyeom hands Hyunjin the vial for the last scene, not knowing there is true poison swirling in the water. Hyunjin puts it in his pocket and walks onto stage on cue. Jisung can barely contain his excitement in the moments leading up to Hyunjin drinking the poison.

He lovingly cradles your face with his hand before bringing his lips to yours. It’s the final show, and Jisung supposes he wants to go out with a bang since he kisses you, deep and slow. There’s a mixture of sighs and gasps from the audience. Even a few of the tech crew members are shocked at his brazenness.

Then he brings out the poison, and the audience watches with bated breath as he brings it to his mouth. A preteen girl shouts, “Don’t do it!” and Jisung experiences heart palpitations before realizing that the message is not about the real poison. Hyunjin hesitates momentarily before swallowing, most likely surprised by the sudden flavor. Then he sharply inhales and clutches his chest. He barely gasps his last line before dropping dead. He falls back with a heavy thud. No one expects it to be real.

“Wow, he’s going all out for the last show,” Jisung hears Chan comment.

A wicked grin spreads across Jisung’s face. He imagines the burning sensation in his mouth followed by numbness. The confusion he must have felt! He must have regretted not listening to the girl. Did he assume that it was just some sick prank that would be over in a few minutes, or did he realize what was to come? Did he think of you and what your fate would be?

It doesn’t matter though. Hyunjin’s own lips, tainted with the monkhood powder, will be your downfall.

Even though you’re right by him, you don’t know of his death. You recite your lines, and every word you say about Romeo could very well be about Hyunjin.

Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. —

O churl, drunk all, and left no friendly drop

To help me after? I will kiss thy lips.

Haply some poison yet doth hang on them.

To make me die with a restorative.

You gently brush the stray locks of his hair from his forehead and lean down. It’s dead quiet, no background music or whispers from the audience. You kiss him slowly, letting the unknown poison reach you.

Thy lips are warm.

When Jisung catches a glimpse of your face, you look uncomfortable. The tingling effect from the monkshood is starting to make your lips swell, and you nervously lick them. Jisung chuckles to himself. Despite all the physical effects you’re feeling, you continue the scene like nothing’s wrong. You pick up the prop dagger and stab yourself, falling back like Hyunjin.

Though Juliet is supposed to be dead, Jisung can see your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. His own heart is racing as he watches you dying in real time. Your fingers twitch and then falter as you reach out for Hyunjin to check if he’s alright. You must have realized that something is off. However, you can’t shout for help. He knows that your tongue and mouth have gone numb and that the shining light of positivity in you is hoping that it’s all a temporary experience. There’s more shallow gasps and then you stop fighting. Your chest stops moving, and Jisung can hear the sound of a heart rate monitor flatlining in his head.

The rush of euphoria he gets sends him over the edge. Love never made him feel this good. How helpless you must have felt when you could only stare at the lights above you and pray for the sweet release of death. Did you silently beg for the pain to stop, or did you ask for forgiveness?

Jisung lets out a shaky breath and holds his head in his hands. He’s done it. You and Hyunjin will no longer torment him anymore. His grin trembles, his jaw shakes, and he wants to laugh, to celebrate. The actors on stage continue like the two of you are still alive, unaware of the corpses right by their feet.

The lights go out one last time, and the audience erupts in cheers and applause. There’s a stampede of people rushing onto the stage for the curtain call. The rumble of footsteps does not disturb you or Hyunjin from your resting place. The cheery music Chan selected plays, and Jeongin turns the lights back on, revealing a crowd of people around you and Hyunjin, still lying on the floor.

Minho rolls his eyes and kicks at his friend with his foot, saying out loud, “Romeo! It’s me, Mercutio. You’re in heaven now.”

Everyone laughs, thinking it’s an elaborate joke they planned. Even in the comms, Mr. Gi asks, “Did you guys know they were going to do this?”

There’s a resounding chorus of “No.”

“Juliet, why don’t you kiss him awake?” Minho suggests when Hyunjin doesn’t move. Jisung is impressed by his improv skills.

Neither of you even twitch. The audience is eating it up and chanting, “Kiss him! Kiss him!” A few of the actors join in with Yuna being the loudest.

Yeji sighs when it becomes apparent that you aren’t going to stop. She bends down, breaking the immersion, and shakes you. “Hey, c’mon.” When you don’t move, she shakes you harder. “Y/N!”

“You too, Hyunjin,” Minho adds. He nudges him with his foot. “It’s not funny anymore.”

There’s panic in their voices, and no one knows if it’s still part of their mini sketch or not. Jisung glances at Changbin, who is also just as confused as everyone.

“Drama kids being drama kids?” he shrugs.

“I guess,” Jisung replies, hiding the sly note in his voice.

Then comes the revelation. Yeji’s stunned whisper comes over on the speakers: “She’s not breathing.”

For a second, there’s only the cheerful curtain call song. Then there’s chaos — people leaping out of their seats to leave, people too much in a state of stupor to do anything, people screaming, people rushing on stage to double-check. On the outside, he curses with Changbin and consoles Yugyeom who’s pale and looks like he’s ready to throw up. Jisung pretends to be in shock, but on the inside, he’s shouting with glee at the reaction to his handiwork. While Mr. Gi is frantically calling an ambulance, Minho quickly drops to his friend’s side and reports the same thing as Yeji: “He’s not breathing either.”

Another wave of panic hits the auditorium. Minho starts screaming at Hyunjin, begging him to wake up. Yuna has collapsed next to you, and she and Yeji are shaking you violently, pleading for you to stop whatever it is that you’re doing. Chan has the sense to turn off all the mics, so no one has to hear amplified banshee wails from everyone. At least one person faints, and Yugyeom runs to the restroom, one hand clasped around his mouth.

Jisung thinks it’s a glorious scene.

He was right though. You and Hyunjin are — sorry, were — the perfect actors for Juliet and Romeo. Like Shakespeare said:

All the world’s a stage;

And all the men and women merely players.

~ ad.gray

Thank you all for reading! I really didn’t expect the amount of attention this story received, and I hope you all enjoyed it. I know some of you were expecting a happy ending, but here on this blog, if it’s over 5k, someone’s probably going to die :P

Thank you to ad.gold who edited it all and made sure all the details were accurate! Sorry I forgot mic tape existed.

(Shameless self promo time) If you liked this story, you might like:

1000 Roses (ad.gray) - a theatre AU featuring stage manager Chan, lead actress Y/N, all fluff, and no murder; no connection to “In Fair Verona.”

Squirrel and Wife (ad.gold) - (to heal your heart) a fluffy royalty AU featuring princess Y/N and knight Jisung.

Magic Words (ad.gray) - (to heal your heart) if you want to see Hyunjin being resurrected; it’s fluff, I swear; no connection to “In Fair Verona.”

42nd Moon (ad.gold) - (if you’re a masochist and want to shatter your heart further) a werewolf and soulmate AU featuring Jisung and Hyunjin where there may be murder.

Apologies in Advances (ad.gray) - (if you liked getting your hopes up and being let down; the title is important) secret agent AU featuring Minho and Y/N who hate each other but are forced to go on a mission together.

#stray kids #skz #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #stray kids han #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids au #theatre au #high school au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #yandere #20200923

62 notes · View notes

katsukikitten · 5 years ago

Text

Going down?

NSFW BBS

To say you were the luckiest and yet most unlucky person in the world would be an understatement.

You were a living, breathing contradiction considering the quirk you have and where you've ended up.

Most people are envious, even jealous of the position you have.

A secretary to both of the top two number one heroes!

You were lucky, your little meek self landed the spot wholly by accident.

On a train ride bumping into the Director of the agency by mere fucking chance, agitating your already hyper active quirk.

For a moment time slows, you do not have much time to inform him of what is happening.

The train doors will be shutting soon, sealing his fate and losing out on something big.

Detrimental to the company even.

"Oh um, excuse me sir." You stammer, lowly enough that he does not hear you, "Sir?"

You breathe in deeply trying once more as his fingers fly across the lit glass in his hands.

"S...sir?" He is too distracted by whomever is on the other side to notice you.

In your mind's eye you see the train director reaching for the button for the doors. Anxiety rips through your body only to be out won by your fear.

Fear of small mistakes leading to much bigger disasters.

"SIR! YOU'RE ON THE TRAIN HOME! YOU NEED TO BE ON TRAIN D OR YOU'LL MISS THE MEETING YOU'VE FORGOTTEN!" You huff, hands shaking as the man stares down at you with a mix of horror and awe.

All before he grips onto your wrist dragging you along with him.

And that's how you became secretary to Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki.

Better known as Deku and Ground Zero.

One made your life heavenly, touching them, seeing them and the details of their work and interpersonal lives was easy. The fact that you had a crush on them made it even better.

While the other, well the other made your life a living hell. Considered you too meek and seemed to hate your guts with a burning intensity that rivaled the heated gaze in his eyes.

Again you were the luckiest and yet most unlucky person alive.

You stare at the screen as your quirk has you hyper fixated on the janitor's next few hours of possible futures and unnecessary details of his life all because he brushed your fingers while passing you something you've dropped.

"Y/N." Deku calls softly and you cannot hear him, "Y/N."

He steps towards your desk just outside of the two opposing offices, leaning closer to you.

"Y/N." It comes out like liquid honey, and your gut flutters. You flush bright red as you blink furiously.

"I.. I'm sorry. Oh! Izuku-sama you need to be leaving in the next five minutes or you'll be late for your..." You struggle when you see it.

The beautiful woman with short chesnut hair sitting in a chair at an upscale restaurant in a deep pink dress.

Showing off her curves and her breasts in a tasteful manner.

Your heart sinks to your stomach like a brick, weighing heavy as you realize what is happening and suddenly you are crushed

The word date cannot escape your lips so you clear your throat.

"Your day is free tomorrow until 4pm and nothing extra will come up." You add instead and he nods.

"Thank you Y/N." He smiles sweetly before beginning to leave, "Don't stay too late okay?"

"Oh and um Izuku-sama...."

"Yes?" He stops turning back to face you. He did not mind you looking into his personal life.

Or at least never said anything agaisnt it.

"Please be sure to charge your phone on the way there. Other wise it will die and you won't be able to capture a special moment." You say softly, unable to keep eye contact with those shining emeralds.

It hurt too much to.

You could have kept it to yourself, or forced yourself not to look like you have to do with thathot head but...but if his phone would have died..

He would be missing the picture that would lead to them dating.

"Thanks Y/N." He says smiling so brightly before turning on his heel.

All the while you try to forget about the kiss they share after their failed selfie.

He leaves without another word and you stare after him longingly.

That is before your quirk pulls you to the only other body on the floor.

He'll be running out of coffee soon and he will be angry, distracted even to have to leave his desk when he is finally making some progress on his paper work.

The coffee pot in the break room is finishing up at the perfect time thanks to the director's secretary. You pull out Bakugou's second favorite mug from your desk and stand.

Before stopping as you relive a memory.

"Quit using your quirk to spy on me."

His snarl so dark and upsetting that you could no longer attend the hero ceremony.

You begin to pack your things instead. Bakugou won't be in a good mood for the rest of the evening on top of that nothing is happening and even if something was he wouldn't want your help anyway.

You hesitate, only for a moment, maybe he would want that cup of coffee. You stare at the mug as if it would have answers but it would never know.

Just like you wouldn't, unless you touched him.

And he would never allow that.

So you shrug your purse higher on your shoulder before heading to the elevator.

Your press the button and count loudly in your head to help calm your nerves.

Inanimate objects are almost as difficult as people if you don't touch the right part of them.

You know at some point this thing is going to break down and get stuck between floors.

You just don't know when.

Why not take the stairs?

Well the stairs had a worse outcome.

"It's only possibilities Maybe futures."

You try to remind yourself.

What you dont remind yourself of is your 95% accuracy rate.

The elevator dings pulling you to the here and now.

You step into the shiny death trap with smooth tiles and walls that reflect your fearful face.

Bland music takes up the space in the background as your eyes fly over the seemingly endless buttons.

You hit G and the elevator dings again before shuttering as the doors begin to close.

They never get the chance to close, instead a toned forearm is hit by the two sheets of steel before the safety feature forces the doors back open.

You freeze like a mouse caught by two shining eyes in the dark.

Burning red eyes.

"Tch." He sucks his teeth as he steps in, standing to the far side of the elevator.

You look at him expectedly, waiting for an answer on the floor he needs and when none is given you assume he is leaving for the day too.

The elevator begins its descent to the safety of the garage.

But not quickly enough.

Numbers flash on a panel with an annoying ding that inturpts the flat music, your eyes stare at the white digits watching them shrink.

As you feel yourself shrink as you always do beneath that gaze. The details of his life creep in first and you try your best to focus on something else.

Izuku comes to mind and with it, wonder on how he date is going, your heart pulls harshly on the muscles in your chest.

The failed selfie is happening right now and they should be kissing soon.

You hold onto your purse tighter and the digits read 22.

Suddenly the descending box of steel groans before jerking causing you to lose your balance.

You begin to fall towards the middle of the elevator, of course you couldn't have fallen towards the damn railings less than three inches from you.

You just had to fall to be met face first with cold harsh tile. You squeeze your eyes shut for impact but mostly so you cannot read the disappointment in the ash blonde's face.

But the cold slap never comes, instead a warm, almost comforting touch holds you. Callused hands wrapped around your bare shoulders as they right you to your feet.

The possible futures flood in along with the details of his last 24 hours.

First comes the past, he smells of perfume, floral with hints of amber, lipstick stains on his throat and collar. Before anger ignites in your belly, half your own from anyone "marking" Bakugou and the other half is his. Katsuki yells at this mystery woman, he spies a text from another man on her phone. The present begins to overwrite the past his phone is sitting in his office on his desk. He has unintentionally forgotten it, leading you to remember that yours is still locked in your top drawer.

Lastly comes the future, your breath begins to hitch as it unfolds, and your premonition from when you first started almost a year ago is finally coming true.

"THE ELEVATOR IS GOING TO STOP!" You grip onto strong forearms as you scream. Nails biting into toned flesh as tears begin to prick your eyes.

"Wha..what?" Is all Bakugou gets out before the machine comes to a grinding halt.

Fear seizes your very bones while rage grips the blonde's.

"What the fuck?!" He snarls, "Did you know this was going to happen the whole fucking time? You let me on here anyway?"

"N..no." Fat tears begin to drip down reddened cheeks, "It was just because we touched."

His fingers squeeze tighter on your shoulders as he watches the tears cascade down. You see a few more seconds into the future before he let's go.

"Fuck." He hisses. A series of explosions erupt busting out one of the lights and something in the corner.

"P...please be careful, you've destroyed the camera. I..its close to the electrical panel." You speak to the floor loudly and he turns his ire onto you

"Be careful?! You're the seer why didnt you tell anyone about the elevator? Or tell me not to get on?" He invades tour space spiking your panic. His agitation over the situation is amplified as it is mixed with a conflicting feeling that has pulled has his gut for majority of this year.

"BECAUSE YOU WONT ALLOW ME TO SEE YOU!" You huff and as quickly as that rage came it melts away. Leaving you a mess of impossibly fatter and bigger tears.

You bend over slightly, losing your breath to panic as you gasp for air.

Bakugou damns himself as he looks over you.

He always seems to make you uneasy or upset, he could live with those emotions considering that's how most people felt around him.

But to watch you cry has knives plunging into his Godly abs.

"Oi..." He says softly and when you do not move he comes closer.

"Oi." He tries again, righting you once more as he rubs a deadly hand on your shoulder.

His skin is electrifying, sending a shudder through your body that you must suppress. He's close enough that you can smell the sweet smell of burnt sugar that seems to cling to his skin. You dare meet his heated gaze from beneath long lashes only to be surprised.

His eyes are far from carrying the weight from annoyance or anger as you thought them to be.

No they hold something else for once.

Concern.

You swallow thickly as your chin is lifted before a padded thumb swipes at a tear.

Your breathing hitches harshly.

"No need to cry okay. I'm sorry I yelled that was an asshole thing to do." His other hand continues its soothing cirlce, "Why don't you take a deep breath with me?"

He breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes expecting you to mimic and you do.

He holds it for just a moment before letting his diaphragm push the air naturally from his mouth.

After a few times your head feels a bit clearer and Bakugou takes notice as your cheeks are no longer flush.

"Now what will be easier to see my future or the elevators?" He asks softly and his manner throws you off.

You had heard rumors of his cruelty when it came to inconvenience, some dating back to before he was a pro.

Not to mention you had witnessed it first hand, so to see those normally hash scarlet red eyes softened for you has your stomach doing flips.

"Ummm..." You gulp, fearful to answer but by lying will that make it worse.

After a few brief seconds you choose to tell the truth with a heavy heart, wholly expecting a violent reaction.

"You..." A breath of a word as Bakugou purses his lips for a fraction of a second.

He liked his privacy bit not being stuck in this tin can would be worth violating it.

"Alright. Then see our way out of here little Oracle." You blush from his nonchalant tone and the use of the nickname.

Little did he know you had once picked that out to be your hero name.

But dreams die as we get older.

Especially if one doesn't feed them.

You look into the future a few minutes, hoping you'll see whatever will lead you to freedom.

But you see something else instead, it pulls your stomach lower heating your core a bit.

The blood rushes to your face as Bakugou scrunches his own.

"I..." You are suddenly hyper aware of the proximity the two of you share.

Of his warm hand resting on your bare shoulder, of the closeness of his face and the gentle touch of his fingers. He gives a look as if to say go on, you look down as you speak again.

"B..Bakugou-sama, I think my quirk might be acting up. I may be seeing the implausible possibility..." Eyes squeezed shut as you expect an explosion.

But it never comes.

"What do you mean? I've heard your information is always good, little Oracle." His thumb swipes at another stray tear, "What did you see?"

Cheeks burn impossibly hotter as you look again only to receive the same result.

Truly truly implausible.

He tilts your face to his and his gaze is too much.

"I...ummm....we....yo..you kiss me." You bite your lip as you speak and the action fills Bakugou with desire, more than he's ever possessed for you before.

And always more than what he's felt for another woman.

You being able to see some of that no matter how slim the chances of him acting on the feeling is the MAIN reason he actively "hated" and avoided you.

But to feel your smooth skin beneath his rough palms, to smell your sweet mango perfume and to hear your adorable voice fill up the space that only posses the two of you becomes too much.

Too quickly.

Katsuki pushes you against the wall, the railing bites into your back but it goes unnoticed as your eyes flutter.

Dominat tongue swirling around your own has your core molten.

Had you like Bakugou?

Had you ever been attracted to him?

The answer was yes and had always been yes. You just tried to make it easier on yourself, hoping that devloping a crush on kind Deku would eventually push your feelings for the hot head to the background.

It worked. But only if the emerald haired man was around.

When he wasn't your mind always floated to the hot head.

He rips the buttons from your blouse and you gasp with both pleasure and concern.

He reads you like a book as he pulls the fabric open to look at you in all your glory, even pulling the scratched white fabric from your black skirt.

"You said I took out the camera right?" He drinks you in before his mouth finds a sweet spot on your throat, "Don't worry I'll give you my jacket when I'm through with you, my little Oracle."

You swoon, knees becoming weak from such little contact. His mouth works wonders as he un hooks your bra, pulling it and your shirt from your chest. Greedily lapping at your perked nipples. A moan escapes you then, further encouraging his advancement to which you wouldn't dream oppose.

Not with how good you feel now. Soon his hands find your hips as he crushes his lips to yours, pulling the bottom of your skirt up over your thick thighs and ass before letting it stay at your natural waist.

"Are you wet for me?" He asks by way of permission.

To which you surprise both of yall with your answer.

"Go and find out."

Katsuki gives you a deadly smile as your face deepens in hue. His fingers snake slowly down your chest, teasing when he gets close to the hem before sliding over your laced underwear.

You watch as his eyes flutter slightly before a groan escapes his kissable lips, you clench at the sound.

"You're soaking through your underwear." He voice drips with desire by your ear, "Does the director know how naughty you are?"

He leaves a trail of kisses before biting down on your neck, fingers still relishing the feeling of soaked fabric.

"Does he know that you're wet for one of your bosses?" He begins pressing against your throbbing button through the thin fabric. You buck your hips agaisnt his touch and moan when he chuckles darkly.

"I didn't hear an answer, baby girl." Your mouth moves without thought as he presses harder.

"N..no. No one knows."

"And who are you wet for?" His other hand is preoccupied with your breasts. Tweaking the nipples pushing you closer to a surprisingly close edge. His strong hand moves away from your needy nipple to find your throat.

He applies the right amount of pressure that your breathing becomes labored.

"Y..you Bakugou-sama!" You squirm, wanting, needing to be touched by the man before you.

"That's my good girl." He slips his fingers past your underwear finding the swollen bud he was teasing, swirling two fingers as his palm presses down on your mound.

You're moaning loudly, uncaring if anyone will hear as his fingers work you over like magic. His grip tightening just enough as you get closer and closer.

Finally your vision blurs in your peripheral before his husky voice is back at your ear.

"Just one more thing, do you see yourself getting fucked little oracle?"

You do not need to look into the future to answer

"Yes...yes Bakugou-sama." With a deadly smirk he sends you over the edge, not letting up as your crescendo once, twice, three times from his fingers alone. You see stars as your body convulses beneath his touch, voice caught in your throat as you shudder.

Your knees become weak as he slowly eases away after teasing at a hint that a fourth time could have been coaxed from you.

He holds you steady kissing you sweetly on the lips. He gives you a moment as you lean on him before you're flipped around.

You stare at your reflection. Hair disheveled, falling from its normally tight bun, breasts exposed as you're bent over and lips tinted with the best of red hues.

Red eyes admire you as he unbuckles his pants.

"You're such a gorgeous mess. And who are you a mess for?" He asks, placing your hands onto the railing.

"Y..you." Breath fogs your slightly distorted reflection and he smiles.

"God damn right." He purrs in your ear, pressing himself against you and you moan, "Hold on tight, it's going to be a bumpy ride."

You wiggle your hips, pressing your ass as close to him as you can before he grabs onto you with a bruising grip.

He eases himself in slowly, keeping you from pushing agaisnt him until he's filled you completely. He stays still for a moment and the feeling of fullness alome has you squirming, begging for more.

"Pl..please Bakugou-sama. Please..." He grabs a fist full of your hair, pulling your face to meet his reflection.

"Please what?" He grins devilishly and you cannot fathom how he holds back so well. You feel him twitch within you, your eyes roll for a moment before you answer him.

"Please just fuck me and fill me. Please please Bakugou-sama." You cry out trying your best to rock against him, hoping his one hand would not be enough to stop any friction from happening.

But some how it is.

"Now be a good seer and watch how well you take my cock baby girl." He purrs, pulling harder on your hair until you meet your gaze.

He begins to pound into you, hard and fast. The sound of your meeting bodies echoes off the four walls and for once you cannot see anything.

Because you cannot focus on anything aside from the feeling of aggressive thrusts and the ash blonde reflection. He grunts as he looks you over. Your skirt makes your ass seem bigger than what it is and you're so wet you make a delectable sound with each withdraw not to mention your thighs are beginning to dew.

The sensation, sound, and sight of you being so pleased and submissive for him begins to make Bakugou spiral.

And it shows with each thrust as it gets harder, faster, and sloppier.

He fucks you with enough force that the metal box begins to rock.

Your eyes flutter as you begin to climb again, feeling him getting closer and closer himself before he hits you just right as he groans out a delightful "fuck"

You scream, gripping onto him in pulses before he loses himself. Burying himself deep within you with a satisfied growl.

You both still for a moment before he withdrawals. His seed spills from you making him want to fuck you again.

But instead he moves your underwear back into place, smooths your skirt back down your hips and ass before pulling up his own pants.

He turns you around, peppering your dazed face with kisses before he sheds his jacket and places it on you.

Zipping it up to your throat. He pulls you into him and you note the heavy smell of his caramel sweat. You kiss his neck tenderly causing a rumble to emit from him.

"Are you okay little one?" He asks softly, "Was I too rough? Too much?"

"No...perfect." You snuggle into him and he holds you for a moment. Your nose brushes against his exposed throat before you see it.

"Oh!" You push away from him enough to see his face before you blush deeply.

The elevator whirls back to life, the ding of floors pulls you back into reality and for a moment you think it a dream.

You expect him to shove you away now that he is done, especially so since that the moment of an almost claustrophobic disaster no longer hands over your heads.

But the look of hated annoyance does not return to his eyes as he gazes down at you.

If anything he looks at you softly expectant of an answer before it dawns on him.

"Oh." He says with a deadly smirk, "Was fucking the only way to fix it?"

You laugh nervously before admitting.

"I never looked past that kiss. I.."

He kisses you softly again before a final ding rings out and the two of you are met with the cool summer air of the parking garage.

"Hmmm I think I saw something." He smirks and you look puzzled, the world only slowly beginning to beg for your attention.

"W..what did you see Bakugou-sama?" You ask timidly as he pulls you out of the sinful box. Guiding you to his black motorcycle. You stop to blink over the bike, trying hard to see whatever he could be alluding to without allowing yourself his future out of habit.

"I see you calling me Katuski over dinner." He smiles as he places his only helmet on your head before his powerful leg swings over the body of the bike.

You stare down dumbfounded, dazed over everything that has happened in the last hour and a half.

When you do not move he pets the seat behind him.

"Coming to make my prediction true little oracle?" You nod swiftly pulling up your skirt enough to straddle the bike. You delicately wrap your arms around a muscled torso.

"Hold on tight." He says, squeezing your hand before the bike roars to life, "Its going to be a bumpy ride."

#bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha smut #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha au #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #katuski bakugou #bakugou fluff

892 notes · View notes

divinewhimsy · 4 years ago

Text

Ichor Pt9 (DabixReader)

A/N: Sorry this took so long!! I’ve been busy and have been writing with every spare moment I could get. I hope you all still enjoy it nonetheless!! Also I’m running out of gifs for these chapters LOL

Don’t be afraid to message me if you want to be added to the Taglist or want to interact. I don’t bite, I promise! <3

Tag list: @velvet-kissesss @marydragneell @littleblackpheonix @holytacocactuscollector @ghostingtime @the-cosmic-dreamer @haylosx @too-old4this-shit @nightime-writer

Part 7: X

Part 8: X

Part 10: X

You’re almost afraid to open your eyes when you wake up. If the bed is empty and Dabi’s gone again you don’t know what you’ll do. The previous day had been full of new and uncertain things. Boundaries that had been crossed and removed. Ideas and thoughts that you remember brushing up against in the waves of his energy beside yours. There’s so much you can’t forget, can’t let go. So if he thinks he can just leave you behind with nothing, he’ll be in for a rude awakening.

Thankfully as you open your eyes Dabi’s still beside you. Arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him with no room to move. He’s snoring softly, chest inflating and deflating with even breaths.

He’s so damn beautiful it hurts. It’s almost unreal. Even if he thinks he looks awful or monstrous you can’t help but see the beauty in him. It’s not something you can pin down but looking at him is like witnessing art come to life. Living, breathing art. You run the back of your hand down his face, caressing his cheek gently as he stirs.

He blinks groggily and groans, burying his face into the pillow. Your fingers slip to his hair, running through the soft strands absentmindedly. You just want to keep touching him. It’s your reason to breathe- any moment you spend not touching some part of him is existence without meaning, although he’d probably make fun of you if you told him. Nevertheless you run a finger down the shell of his ear, jingling his piercings quietly as you brush past them.

He mumbles something into the pillow and you fight off a smile.

“What?” you ask with a slight laugh.

He mumbles it again, his muffled voice still swallowed by the pillow, although it's a little louder.

“I can’t hear you.” you giggle and he rolls his head to the side.

“I said it's too damn early.” he sighs and you shrug.

“I don’t even know what time it is.” you admit, tracing his jawline with your fingertips and watching the goosebumps appear in their wake.

He catches your hand with his own, pressing his lips to your palm. You meet his gaze then, his beautifully blue eyes crackling with a foreign emotion. He presses each of your fingertips to his lips, kissing them one by one. It’s a surprisingly gentle gesture but you melt all the same.

“Dabi.” you breathe and notice how his ears twitch at the sound of his name. “You said something yesterday that's been bugging me.”

“I said a lot. You’re going to have to be more specific.” he grumbles, eyes barely open as he looks at you.

“Well, there were a few things I wanted to talk to you about.” you murmur and swallow the rising levels of anxiety that start to spear through you. “But we’ll start with this one.”

Dabi waits in silence but you can feel the way he’s holding his breath. Waiting, with a hint of your own anxiety bleeding into his emotional resolve. You don’t want him to feel nervous- you’re the one who should be nervous! You know he hates repeating himself and here you are, about to ask him to do just that.

“Nevermind.” you curl your lips into your mouth and glance away from him. “I need to pee.”

You try to wiggle free from his arms but Dabi doesn’t let you budge. Instead he holds on tighter, his eyes narrowing as you search his face in a fleeting second.

“We’re not doing this bullshit.” he sighs and you stop wriggling at the absolute order in his voice. How does he do that?! “If there’s a problem just say it. I don’t like to waste time beating around the bush with stupid shit. I get if you regret yesterday but just come out and say it.”

“Regret… Yesterday?” you furrow your brows, your face burning a bright red. “Absolutely not! I don’t regret it! I was going to ask about some other stuff having to do with the bond-... why do you think I regret it?”

Dabi’s brows furrow.

“You- I- You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking that just then.”

“I wasn’t!” you pull back to look at all of his face.

The surprise in his eyes also forms a small ‘o’ on his lips. The way his cerulean eyes drink in your features, worry strewn about both your faces as you pause. The moment of miscommunication passes with an awkward sigh of relief and Dabi clears his throat.

“What did you want to talk about, then?” he grumbles quietly, eyes avoiding yours as he loosens his grip on your body.

He really must be insecure. How many people had regretted time spent with him if that was his immediate thought at your unease? How many rejections has he faced the morning after offering himself up?

The pain in your heart makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let go. No one should have to feel that broken- to feel that useless and awful and unwanted.

You don’t say anything but instead wrap yourself around him, hooking your legs around his. You press yourself to him, face burying into his neck and breathing in his natural smell of smoke and earth. A fire pit in the middle of a forest, a bonfire on a beach. The skies painted gray with the ashes of him.

“Never.” you whisper and he sighs, running a hand down your hair and back gently. “I’ll never regret it.”

“Alright, alright.” he mumbles and pulls you away from him. “Go on and say what you wanted.”

At least he didn’t immediately push you away. There’s some progress there to be made still but it’s a start. One day he won’t tense or push you away. One day he’ll crave it and pull you toward him. You vow to make it reality.

“The bond.” you murmur and wrap yourself in the remainder of the sheets and blanket.

You’d forgotten you were completely naked. Not that it matters after having spent last night with Dabi- he’d definitely gotten to see all of you. Just as you’ve seen all of him by now. Of course you wouldn’t object to always seeing all of him again.

No. Focus. You wanted to talk to him about the bond.

“I- You mentioned you could see it that one day.” you spit out, flustered at your own thoughts.

Dabi raises a brow and nods once.

“Yeah. I can see it from time to time. It’s… I feel it more often than not, though.” he glances up at your ceiling. He reaches one hand up, drawing a swirling line up above. “It can get annoying.”

“Annoying?” you ask and he chuckles.

“Yeah. When I left- after I got my quirk back,” he clears his throat, gaze flickering to your face after ‘left’ slips past his lips. “It became more apparent.”

You recall going after him when he had left with Charlie. You hadn’t known where you were going- but your body moved beyond your mind and brought you to him all the same.

“If I focus on it,” he continues and turns his gaze to your arm. He runs his hand up it gingerly, timidly- almost- and draws shapes with his fingertips. “I can feel your heartbeat beside my own. I didn’t think it would affect me if I left. But when you woke up and realized I was gone, I knew I was wrong. I felt the strong, sharp pain in my own body. As if I’d been cut with glass and knives.”

His adams apple bobs and you hold still as he continues to run his fingertip up and down your arm. It’s a pleasant feeling you never expected him to elicit but you’re not fighting it. Not when this moment is intimate in a way that makes your body blush more than when he’d been pounding into you.

“I made it three days before I couldn’t take it anymore.” he laughs with a bitter note in his tone, “I was angry at you for not letting me go. For not listening and moving and getting the hell out of here. I knew others would guess you were involved with me- seen in public or private, it doesn’t matter. They know. That bastard- the green faced one with the Chameleon quirk- was one.”

“Charlie.” you frown and he shrugs.

“He swooped in as soon as I left. He’d been waiting. I fought him in that last battle, the one you brought me back from. He trapped me in some awful building turning into rubble because he wasn’t able to take me on himself. Coward.

“He saw me leave. He’d been watching me- or, rather, you- the entire time. Probably before the League even knew where I was. His quirk made him excellent at hiding. So when I came back and saw him lurking around you, waiting for me, I knew I couldn’t just leave. I stayed and watched you. Waited for him to make his move when he thought I was gone for good.

“I could feel your fear freeze you up.” he murmurs, hand sliding up to your cheek to cup your face gently. His thumb brushes under your eye again and he offers a small smile. “I’m just relieved he hadn’t gotten to you yet when I knocked on the window.”

“Why not just use the door?”

“Then you’d be terrified even more.” he chuckles, “The window let you know at least one of the creepers in your home wasn’t there to hurt you.”

“That’s a terribly heroic thing to do.” you tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t go telling everyone. Might ruin my reputation.”

“Pfffft, okay.” you laugh and place your hand over his, keeping his palm pressed against your face.

“He mentioned that if you killed him in front of me that it would ruin me for you.” you frown. “That I was innocent.”

“He thought so.” Dabi shrugs. “I can’t say one way or another. He was just trying to save his sorry ass.”

“What was he going to do?” you ask quietly, afraid of the answer.

“We’ll never know.” Dabi shrugs. “I didn’t ask. I was too angry to even think straight until I felt you coming along.”

“You could feel me?”

“Of course I could- I can. Every step I’m away from you is painfully obvious. My body burns when you’re farther- and my flames...It’s harder to maintain as much control as I had before. They’re wild and angry. Devouring everything, not a care for what's in front of them.”

“They did grow when I got closer. But they also let me through.”

He nods.

“I have a theory on that, too.” he muses, “I think this connection between the two of us has something to do with that.”

“How so?”

“You brought me back from the dead, babydoll.” he says quietly. “That defies all logic as far as I know it. I think the connection between the two of us gets stronger when we’re closer because of it. I’m alive because of you, after all.”

“Also dead because of me the second time.” you mutter, guilt spreading through your limbs.

“Still alive now, though.” he shrugs. “But hey, who knows? Maybe if I get farther away I might die.”

“Then you’ll just never leave.” you frown and wrap him in your arms tightly. “Or I’ll just bring you back.”

“What if I’m draining you?” he asks softly, his words barely above a whisper. “What if you’re so exhausted because I take every time I touch you? Maybe I’m why you lose control-”

“No.” you say sharply. “You’re not draining me, Dabi. You’re not taking anything. I’m giving you everything, if anything.”

“Then fucking stop.” he says curtly. “I don’t want to have to find someone else-”

“Are you saying...that you want to continue being with me?” you blink and pull back to look at him.

“Shut up. Just learn to control your quirk.”

“You just-”

“We’re moving past that now. I want you to honestly work on your quirk control. You can’t give me everything every time. I don’t want you to.”

“I can work on it.” you nod quietly, slightly dazed at his words.

“Good.” he sighs. “Because I’m not sure I’ll have enough control for the both of us.”

“What?” you scrunch your face in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s fucking difficult! You don’t understand how much self control it takes. With you giving it all every time? It’s like you’re flooding my senses with this drug and I can’t get enough of it. It’s what brought me back from the other side. It’s like this… Impossible feeling. I feel invincible. Like I’m unkillable, unbeatable. It races through my senses and I’m always better than I’ve ever imagined I could be. You’re a drug, princess. I’m not going to be able to say no everytime.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Do you see how it drains you?” he cuts you off with a warning glare. “Do you even realize its not normal to be that worn out after sex? It’s hard to have the self control to take myself from it. Kissing you, eating you out, being inside you- even just touching you feels like everything in the universe came together to put me there specifically. Aligned and came together just for that. It’s a high I’ll always chase as long as I live if you keep offering it.”

You blush and he smirks.

“And with the way you look right now it seems you’ll keep offering it.” he chuckles darkly and brushes his lips against yours. “Every moment I devour a piece of you- it's a rush. It’s enough to make a man lose control.”

His kiss is passionate and heated, tongue dominating yours as he draws you closer to him. Your body melts into his, letting his hands grasp and grip you any way he wants and he lets out a low growl.

“See? Like that.” he hisses and pulls away. “Makin’ me dizzy and shit.”

You pant and giggle, “It makes me dizzy too.”

“It’s dangerous.” he growls and presses his lips to your forehead. “Are you sure that your quirk counselor didn’t already know what your quirk could do? If they knew you had the ability to do what we’ve seen you do, it’s no wonder they told you to hide it.”

“I don’t think so.” you sigh. “They just knew I had...drained someone. I guess they just left it at that? I don’t remember them doing anything extensive. Why hide it if I can defy death?”

“Hmm.” Dabi hums and presses a hand to the small of your back, holding you closer to him. “Maybe they thought it would protect you? I don’t know. Speaking of…”

You glance up at him as he brings a hand to your face once more, tilting your head back.

“Huh?” you blink.

“We’re not telling Shigaraki or the League about any of that. In fact, we’re not telling anyone. And I don’t want you to go to any more battlefields. You can’t use your quirk as openly as you did before. People are watching you.”

“But…” you start but Dabi stops you with a stern look.

“You can’t.” he breathes, “we have no idea what could happen and until you get control over it, it’s easier to just not use it.”

He’s right but Shigaraki’s words ring through your memory. This is different. It’s not the same as the others before you telling you not to use it. It’s not the same.

...Right?

What are you thinking, of course it isn't the same. Dabi wouldn’t do that to you. You can’t even believe the thought that he would come up in your brain.

Then again, Shigaraki is an intelligent man. His words will last longer than his presence will and the purpose behind them will grow. If you let him sow the doubt into you now, you’ll be playing right into his hands.

“Okay.” you nod. “I won’t.”

Dabi searches your eyes for a few seconds more before he lets out the breath he’d been holding.

“Good.” he grumbles and releases your face as his finger slides to your lips. His gaze flickers there, watching as he traces the shape of your mouth. “I’m going to have to make an appearance at the League today or Shigaraki will show back up.”

You nod, debating if you should bite his fingers or not. He moves them from your face before you can decide- teaching for his phone underneath the pillow with a sigh.

“Speaking of.” he mutters as it starts to ring. He answers it with an annoyed look, his eyebrow twitching as the person on the other line immediately starts speaking.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I’ll be there.” Dabi grumbles and you stifle a laugh, smiling as he hangs up before the other person can finish speaking. “It’s almost sunset. I should get going.”

He seems to hesitate as his hand hovers above your face, his warmth enveloping you before he moves. You decide for him, bunting your head into his hand and wrapping your arms around him. He releases at your touch, meeting your lips halfway as if he can read your mind.

The kiss is quick but still packed with that same longing heat from before. Notes of regret twinge in your stomach as he pulls away, feeling the surge of your quirk rises up. You wince, toes curling as you look at his face.

“Control.” he growls and flicks you in the nose.

You pout but end up smiling as he ruffles your hair and slides out of the bed. He pulls on pants and a shirt, donning his signature jacket. He pads out the room with a wave but keeps his gaze forward. You watch as he leaves, words lingering on your lips with the memory of his fingers.

It’s too soon to say them. The three words may just very well damn this entire… situation. You’re sure at least feels how you do- or feels what you’re feeling through the bond, at least. Acknowledging it when it’s in its infancy is ridiculous.

You dress yourself a little bit after, making some food and watching tv before your phone rings. It’s Lively- who’s already on her way over to drag you with her to some event by the school her new boyfriend works at. You groan but don’t bother arguing. It’s easier to just go along with her shenanigans than to try and stop the already in motion plan.

It’s not as bad as you thought it might be. The event is off campus- which is surprising, given recent issues with UA and their security breaches. You don’t voice your concerns though as she blabbers on and on about various topics. You listen and add in but you know your heart isn’t in the conversation. Not when your emotions are still so twisted from the night before.

You check to make sure the bond between you and Dabi is still there- and it is. It never once disappears, although you have an irrational fear it might. What if he wasn’t going to come back?

You could just track him down again.

Or go to the league. If you had a deathwish. Dabi already didn’t want you there- not because he doesn’t like you but because he said he wanted what was best for you.

The only issue with that is what if you want the best for him? Is the league really the best that can be offered? Is being a villain honestly what he needs? It’s too messy, too dangerous.

Then again, you were the one who rushed to save him. You started this entire thing. Bound him to you with blood.

Lively chatters away before squealing and dashing up to a dark haired man with tired eyes and a large tan scarf around his shoulders. He smiles softly as she wraps her arms around him and starts blabbering away just as you walk up.

“This is my best friend, [Name]! The one I told you I work with.” she gestures toward you and the man nods when he meets your gaze.

“I’ve told Shouta alllllll about you!” Lively giggles and you wince, trying to play it off as a smile.

“All about me, huh?” you mumble and she laughs.

“Well he has a few single friends who are pro’s like him! Sooo that’s why I brought you today! To meet them!”

Dear god, no. You shake your head and swallow, taking a cautious step away from the couple.

“I’m really alright on my own-“ you start but Lively isn’t having it as she’s hurriedly waving someone behind you over.

“You don’t have to start anything- think of them as more friends or social outlets!” she encourages and you sigh.

You can’t tell her you’re technically seeing someone. Not without her prying into who it is and when you met them. Unless Dabi didn’t consider you two being together...A something? Is it a relationship? Is it a fling? Is it because you two are bound by your quirk?

You really should ask him but… would that scare him away? Are you even ready to define what the two of you are together? Sure, you’d slept with him but it wasn’t like you’d confessed your love for him. Granted, neither had he. You could be overthinking this entire thing.

Emotional turmoil aside, you have to focus on the now. As Lively introduces you to a couple of the UA teachers, she tugs you and her boyfriend- Aizawa, as you’ve taken to politely calling him by his last name- around with her. You’re not sure which one is the one she’s specifically trying to set you up with but they all seem nice enough. None of them stand out enough to catch your eye but you’re not really looking for someone that is. Not when you just shared your bed with someone you’re connected to on a whole different level. A level beyond what any other being can even begin to offer you.

Your quirk has ruined other relationships for you. Now that you know how deep you can connect with someone else by using it, it’s impossible to think of not being so...Intertwined with someone. And asking them to die so you can bring them back for that level of connectivity is insane. This is a rare, once in a lifetime thing you’re keeping secret and you can’t even hope to explain to anyone else why no past or future relationship will ever be the same.

Lively babbles on about different things throughout the night. You don’t mind listening but you’re thankful when her and Aizawa step away with another teacher/Pro hero- Present Mic. He gives a friendly wave and you nod politely back before resting at one of the tables off to the side. It’s on the outskirts of the event and mostly private while everyone else is walking around enjoying the many booths and groups of heroes.

You’re enjoying the quiet when your phone chimes with an incoming text. You blink at your screen in surprise- you’ve already told Lively where to find you if she needed you. Who else could be trying to reach you?

It’s a number you don’t recognize.

The text is off putting, to say the least.

‘What are you doing here?’

Who even…?

‘You must have the wrong number, I don’t have this one saved as a contact.’

‘Of course you won’t. I’ve never messaged you before this.’

‘That doesn’t help clear up who this is.’

‘It’s me, “Ichor”.’

You freeze, eyes locked down on your phone. The only person you’ve told to call you ‘Ichor’ is coincidentally the only person you’ve stayed in contact with after healing. Dabi. You can’t type his name out. If someone were to get a hold of your phone, they’d have his number and know it’s home by your guessing text alone. It would just be a burden if he had to get a new one. But if this is Dabi...Why is he messaging you now??

‘...D?’

‘Who else?’

You swear you can hear his snarky tone. Is he around here? With so many heroes close by? He can’t honestly think he has a chance to take them all down by himself.

Unless the League is planning another attack.

Your skin turns into ice at the thought. Here? Now? An attack? Lively is somewhere nearby- you have to get her out. But how can you without alerting the heroes of the villains?

Shigaraki’s words simmer through your mind; ‘In the end it’ll come down to the choice you refuse to make- Who will you save? A hero? Or a villain?’

Do you honestly have to choose? Not that Lively is a hero by any means- she’s innocent in this. She’s dating a Pro, sure, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be caught in the middle. Then again, the League doesn’t care about those caught in the crossfire. They’re not heroes who try to minimize damage and casualties.

The thought makes you sick. How many people would get hurt just for the League’s statement?

‘What are YOU doing here??’

You counter, worry bleeding into your features as you search the edge of the crowds. Do you leave? Do you stay?

Why does it feel like the choice you make is going to impact your life in ways you can’t even begin to imagine?

‘I asked you first.’

You can imagine his face. Squinting turquoise eyes, his lips pressing into an impossibly thin line. The distrust oozing from him in waves that make you feel sick.

‘Lively dragged me here. The coworker I told you about from before.’

It’s the truth. And that’s always the best place to start.

‘And left you by yourself?’

Of course he’s going to question it when you’re all alone.

‘She went off with her boyfriend to do something. I just wanted a moment alone.’

Why oh why does this feel like you’re deactivating a ticking time bomb? Sweating before the open panel filled with crazy wires crackling with explosive energy. You have to stop this.

Dabi doesn’t answer and you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. You need to talk to him face to face otherwise your mind is going to convince you he’s angry with you. If you can just see his eyes and get one moment with him… Then you’ll know this isn’t as bad as it seems.

You stand from your seat and tuck your phone into your pocket, weaving out of the area and searching every shadow that you find. He has to be here somewhere, doesn’t he? If he knows you’re here, he must have seen you.

You send a quick message to Lively explaining you went home and continue your search. No reason to get her worried or suspicious. Your absence needs to seem genuine for her not to worry. Giving some bullshit excuse about you needing to finish some research works well enough.

You’re not well traveled in this part of the city, unfortunately. It’s too much of a maze to properly figure out but you end up checking alley after alley, looking for him. You find bums and thugs, paying them only a quick glance before skittering off to the next alley. Some call out, others growl but you’re a safe enough distance away by the time they can even react.

Where could he be? You’re turning down the next street when you’re yanked into a dark corner by a closed tailors shop. Firm hands are on your shoulders as they spin you to face their owner, your body trapped between the brick wall and your captor.

You relax as you recognize the warmth from him, the heat rolling off his body and his glistening cerulean eyes.

Dabi.

You’re always speechless when you look directly into his gaze but there’s something more to this. As he pins you against the wall, hands splayed on the brick on either side of your head, you can’t help but feel the beat of his heart against your ribs. His body is just barely touching yours but your skin burns for him, offering up a delicious rosy blush for him as yours recalls the memories of his body. His form pressing against yours, the feel of him within- it’s all a rush as he’s only inches from you.

“Dabi.” you breathe, a relieved sigh escaping your lips. “I thought you had to go back to the group?”

“So you took the time to brush elbows with the pros while I was gone?”

Okay so maybe he is upset with you.

You frown.

“You know that’s not why I’m here.” you sigh and he squints.

“Do I?”

“You can’t be serious right now.” you shake your head in disbelief. “Listen to yourself. Why would I want to be near pros? They’re loud, obnoxious and I don’t want any of the spotlight they bring. Being here doesn’t benefit me in the slightest.”

“And what does?” he challenges, his hands warming up against the bricks. You can feel the heat roll toward you but you don’t dare flinch. You will not be afraid of him- he’s just trying to intimidate you.

“You.” rolling your eyes, you open the connection between you two through the bond. You let a tendril of his soul slip through it, testing the metaphorical waters for any lie. “Feel for yourself.”

You don’t know if he can see or hear or feel it the way you do but it's worth a shot. Opening yourself to him isn’t as terrifying as it sounds although you still feel bare before him. All of his attention and essence sifting through your own to connect.

There’s only a fraction of him that visibly relaxes at the unseen action and you release the tension building up in your shoulders. At least it’s him. But why is he being so weird…?

“Do you really not trust me?” you murmur as he rests his head on your shoulder. The ends of his silky hair brush your cheek and you wrap your arms around him instinctively.

“I don’t trust anyone.” he mumbles.

It’s a lie but one you’ll let him believe. If that’s what he needs right now, so be it. But you know some part of him trusts you enough to expose different sides of himself. Or maybe it's involuntary?

Your fingertips slip into his hair and gently run through the tufts of it, letting them slip through the spaces between your fingers. His head rolls to the side as his lips attach to your neck, a soft purr reverberating from his chest. You feel it more than you hear it but it doesn’t matter. Because the moment his lips are on your skin you’re melting into his touch all over again.

You attempt control of your quirk, reeling it in until it’s locked tightly in your veins, ribbons of it swimming like eels trying to escape. It’s hard to focus on it and your attention slips as Dabi nips at your skin. With a yelp you jump and your control is snapped away and the ribbons of your quirk connect to Dabi’s veins. Surging with energy and the beautiful, steady melody of his heartbeat, you relax into his arms.

Dabi catches you before your knees give out and he sighs quietly- a note of content burning through you can’t ignore.

“You tried.” he chuckles and you offer a pathetic sound in response. You’re not even sure if you’re agreeing with him or not. It’s acknowledgment, at least.

The sting of his mistrust still hurts but you don’t let it go. You hold it for a brief moment as he pulls his face away from your neck, a somber and lost look tracing his features.

“Were you… Scared?” you ask quietly, brows furrowing on your face as you try to piece together why he feels… Different. His words and his actions are mixed, meaning and definitions clashing with how you’re deciphering them.

“Of what?” he sighs, bored tone returning to his voice.

You. Betrayal. Rejection. Ever since earlier he’s been… strange.

He must have been worried. With how drained you were after sex and then you being around so many Pro’s. You recall Shigaraki’s words about him being staked outside your apartment for a week before Charlie broke in. Even if he claims he was watching him and not you, you can��t help but feel maybe he was watching you all along.

“Nothing.” you mumble and press a hesitant kiss to his temple, holding his head still. He doesn’t object but the way he tenses up solidifies your suspicions.

Dabi’s not used to caring or worrying about others. He isn’t used to the physical contact between people if it isn’t explicitly sexual. He’s well versed in the way of fighting and sex but for anything more intimate you can see the way he shudders. His sharpened edges spring from him in a defensive- and the fear is blatantly clear to you through the bond.

Testing the waters of his emotional state only backs up your idea. He’s a storm of different feelings- none of it sorted and all of it bottled up until it breaks free.

“Quit that.” Dabi grumbles and you pause, pulling away from his face to look at him.

His bored look doesn’t budge.

“Quit what?” you blink, unsure of what he meant. Touching him? The gentle temple kiss? Or feeling his emotions?

“Saying it’s nothing.” he sighs. “I get really tired of those bullshit games.”

“Oh, well… I wasn’t sure you’d like what I had to say.”

“Does it matter if I do or don’t? Just say it.”

“I was going to say you were scared that I might betray you.” you admit sheepishly. “That you were afraid I wasn’t...genuine with you from the beginning.”

“And?”

He’s holding his breath.

“I’ve been honest with you.” you assure. “I’ve already opened myself up to you to search for your own assurance if you want. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t trust me but I understand the past may have proven that to be… difficult, to say the least.”

He doesn’t say anything but his arms slide around your waist, holding you to his warm chest. The closeness to him is somehow changed in the night but you don’t dislike it. Holding you more tightly than before, as if he’s reluctant to let go. It’s a new side to Dabi.

“You don’t have to completely trust me.” you offer quietly, lips brushing his collarbone as you lean into him. “I understand. I’m not upset. I’ll do everything I can to help you trust again.”

He presses a kiss to your hair and a smile blooms on your face, although it’s small.

It’s a step in the right direction, at least.

“Can we go home now?” you yawn. “Or do you need to go back?”

“I’ll walk you home first.” he says quietly and you grasp his hand in your own, threading your fingers tenderly.

Dabi freezes at the action but doesn’t pull away. He settles on keeping his gaze on anything but you and you’re not sure but it must be the pink lighting of the festival that dusts his cheeks with a rosy hue. Or your imagination.

By the time you’re safe and sound in your apartment, Dabi's face has returned to his normal pale and purple, piercings and all steeled into a bored tone. He drops you off at the door and you pause as he steps away, concern wrapping around your heart.

“Are you not…?” you’re stuck between ‘coming in’ and ‘coming back’ but Dabi seems to read it.

He shakes his head, eyes scanning the sky above nonchalantly.

“I have a couple of other things to do.” he says quietly.

“But… You’ll come back… Right?” you murmur and he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. See you later.”

He waves and starts stalking down the street, his pace set by his long stride. You watch as he retreats from your vision, a weird sensation building in your gut.

He’s probably just thinking about something. You wish he would open up to you but you understand why he doesn’t. Dabi isn’t used to doing these kinds of things- and for him to be anything but his normal bored or flirty self is strange.

Still, if he needs time alone to figure it out, so be it.

You’ll be right here when he does. Come hell or high water.

#ichor #Dabixreader #Dabi x Reader #Dabi x y/n #Dabixyou #dabixy/n #dabi x you #dabi #divinewhimsy #fanfiction #mha #bhna #my hero academia #boko no hero academia #reader insert #x reader #xreader #readerinsert

95 notes · View notes