#sometimes i feel selfish for sticking around and that sounds so awful and i’m not gonna act on it but i just feel like a waste of a person

[thnksfrthmmrs]

[monmuses]

nurturing-starlight​:

“Funny how the dead know more than the living. Not that it’s a bad thing, I guess i’m just a little surprised? It’s hard to say.” She watches him for a moment, listening to what he has to say but still frowning. It was a.. situation to say the least, and at his comment about it not hurting his feelings, she can’t help but speak up.

“It’ll hurt MINE if she doesn’t like you. Especially if she tries to tell me to get rid of you. I just don’t want to okay? I like you here with me.. my life’s a lot less lonely.. I just.. I don’t want to risk her hating you or something and her trying to I dunno, exorcise you..”

Her grip gets a little tighter as a look of frustration crosses her face. She wants to trust her mother, but she doesn’t want to risk it. Meet him first and THEN confess the truth after. He deserves a chance after all, and maybe it was selfish of her to want him to stay around. “I’m going to worry about it. Even if you say it was years ago, people still react poorly to the undead and especially to demons. What if she does?”

There’s a slight sigh in response to the kiss on her forehead and light nudge, but she still doesn’t want to let go of his hand just yet. “Some of those things wouldn’t be on the revealing side would they?” There’s finally a playful nudge in response as she smiles a bit. “Joking aside, can’t say I’m not curious.”

     “A lot more than y’think,” he winked. “I won’t say how much, but they know. Probably a lot more than I think ‘cause they got archives down there. It’s crazy.”

     Beetlejuice had a stupid smile on his face as she held his cheeks, grumbling a little at her frustrated look. He didn’t find it that awful if that were the case, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be. Her mom sounded a lot kinder, which was why Nimue was so sweet sometimes with such a playful bite. His ears gave a gentle wiggle, shaking his head softly at her idea of exorcising.

     “Trust me, it’ll take more than just an exorcism to get rid of me,” he winked. “I don’t have any kind of ritual to ‘force’ me in some place. I’m a demon, for cryin’ out loud! More free-roamin’ than anything, but you don’t ever gotta worry about me getting kicked outta here. They’ll need more than just a cross to hurt me.”

     As cocky as he was, he had that confidence that nothing would happen. “Babes, listen. Worst thing is she gets her hands on that handbook they give out to the recently deceased, which won’t happen. I don’t got it, and unless she’s got somebody hauntin’ her place and they leave it, she won’t get rid of me. Plus, you haven’t seen me doin’ my real magic yet~.”

     He chuckled, smiling with some of his own sharp teeth sticking out from his lips. “I’d love to show off my old ‘Bettyjuice’ look I did with Lyds a while ago. Hate to say that you’d get a real kick out of it, babes.”

[d3nt4l-d4m4g3]

hey i don’t know if you’re the right person to ask and don’t feel pressured to answer this, but i’m kind of at a loss for what to do. i have one friend (R, on T for 6 years) who has had severe medical deterioration since transition, including a lot of the things you’ve made posts about plus complications from a hysterectomy. i have another friend (P, socially transitioned) who’s starting T soon. i wish i could send P some of your posts or even talk to them abt the people i know with health complications from medical transition, but he’s made it very clear that any questioning of his identity means that our friendship is basically over, and he’s so important to me that i can’t risk it. do you have, like, any advice at all? or even commiseration at this point, bc i have no one i can talk to about this irl and it feels suffocating sometimes. anyway, hope you’re doing well, and thanks for your work!!

Hi there friend. I'm afraid you're in a tough situation. I've been on both sides so I know: it's pretty much impossible to talk a trans person out of transitioning. Remember, they believe they will literally die (or kill themselves) if they don't transition and if you don't want them to transition, you want them dead. You can explain the medical effects to a person all day, but their reasons for transitioning have nothing to do with facts like "your uterus is rotting out of your body". Their reasons for transitioning are religious, ideological, and unfortunately illogical.

If you really value P's friendship and don't want to lose her, you know it is not wise to tell her how you feel. The only thing you can do is let her know that you care about her—you want to make her feel like, if she ever have doubts, she can turn to you. Trans ideology works a little like a cult, and trans people sometimes have their whole support networks made up of other trans people. So the thought of detransition triggers the thought of "if I leave the community, I will lose everything." That's why you need to make sure that P knows that in the event of a lapse in belief, they will not lose you. (<-found in this article by NYT, good read, check it out.)

That said, it really hurts to be around someone who you feel like is slowly poisoning/killing themselves in front of you. Making the decision to harm themselves every day of every week of every month of every year. It fucking sucks. Watching someone close to you transform on hormones feels like falling from a tower feeling your stomach drop, feeling the ground hurtle towards you, for months on end. If even being around this person may be triggering to you, there is nothing at all wrong with distancing yourself from P. Trans is like a cult, but also like an addiction. You can tell an alcoholic how she's destroying her liver, or a smoker she's shriveling her lungs, but she won't listen; it makes her feel good. What's the big deal? it gives her a sense of self and a place to be.

And you know what? That place that addicts occupy is a selfish one. P will not trust you over her trans journey. P will not think of your (or other women's) feelings or perspectives if they contradict trans ones. And you don't have to stick around for that.

You cannot save the addict from herself, you just can't. You can be patient and hopeful, and wait for her return to you, or you can turn your back and free yourself. Ultimately it doesn't matter which, because P is the only one who can save herself. Before she saves herself she may need to hit a rock bottom. The suffering might need to mount before she can ask herself if her identity is worth such pain. and it might take a too-long time. Sounds like your friend R is suffering 6 years in, but hasn't hit a breaking point yet. Not enough to stop. And sometimes, awful as it is, there's no guarantee that she will.

Keep talking please.

[a-simple-imagine]

sugary sweet

requested by anonymous:  “could u pls write a story abt spending ur birthday with vanessa?”

pairing: Vanessa (in the heights) x fem!reader

words: 1.4k+

A/N - this is not as fluffy as you probably expected. I just never write happy stories that involve birthdays, it’s cute at the end though

the bright, early morning sun peeked through the blinds as you slowly open your eyes to find the space beside you vacant. evidence of your girlfriend was there but she was nowhere to be found. the apartment felt eerily quiet. had she already left for work? what time was it? normally she'd at least say goodbye first. what a way to start the day. the rattle of the elevated train shakes throughout the apartment as it zooms past the window. you let out a heavy sigh. today was gonna be a very long day.

"happy birthday!" an excited voice as the bed dips suddenly bouncing you against the mattress. Vanessa wears a bright smile and in her hand was a ceramic white bowl.

"thank you," With both hands against the bed, you push yourself upright. full of fresh berries, Vanessa offers up the bowl but not without stealing one or two first.

"I gotta get to work but you can sleep more if you want," odd offer. you rarely spent time here without her. it was her apartment so you didn't really have a reason to plus that train can be awful annoying sometimes... most of the time. "do whatever but if you plan on goin home just come by the salon with the key, yeah?" a gentle kiss bestowed upon your forehead. a simple nod to confirm you understood the instructions and Vanessa was rushing out the bedroom, only to reappear a mere moment later. "you gonna be alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Unspoken words hang in the air as Vanessa keeps her eyes trained in on you; her feelings left unclear by her quick shrug before rushing out the door. you hear the door click this time. your smile fades into the silence, glancing down at the fruit. picking up a berry, you toss it into your mouth then place it off to the side. a heavy feeling twists at your stomach and pulls at your tear ducts. it was a complicated feeling. you didn't exactly have a reason for it but seeing your birthday as a day of celebration was also difficult. every year felt like it came with a personal checklist of life achievements. career milestones. marriage. babies. fitness goals. buying property. it was like a reminder that you were so far behind other people your age but then again, you weren't even sure what you wanted in life. following such a linear path seemed so trivial in the grand scheme of things. there was no guarantee of happiness or fulfilment but rather they were just the milestones of life everyone was expected to want. all you had was a dead-end job and your developing relationship with Vanessa. She made you happy, you weren't denying that. but did your whole life just equate to settling down with her? dark clouds hung low in your mind. how to spend this oh so special occasion? you could go out? you didn't have a lot of friends so it wasn't like you weren't used to doing things alone. today, however, the thought of doing anything just seemed... pathetic. like a strong reminder of how isolated you truly were. in the end, you decide against going out. decide against going home. you would merely entertain yourself until Vanessa returns. it was strange being in her apartment without her. you focus on her atrociously messy desk. paper, pens, cutouts scattered everywhere. getting out of bed, you take a closer look at the designs pinned to the wall. it was rather selfish but often your cloud of insecurity blinds you from the thought of Vanessa's dreams. you pull one of the designs down. simply but elegant and coloured in a metallic silvery-blue it looked like an evening gown. you had discussed her desperation and desire to leave Washington heights. you knew all too well that she wanted to be a fashion designer and there was nothing you wanted for her more than for her to achieve her dreams. but where do you fit into all of that?

The sun is long gone by the time Vanessa finally arrives home. "you decided to stick around then."

"guess so," you shrug, glancing towards her. she drops a plastic bag or two on the kitchen counter. "I can leave if you want?"

"no- no, I'm glad you're still here," Vanessa quickly responds, breezing right past you towards the bedroom. "so... what did you do today?"

"nothing,"

"for real?" she calls out. "you didn't do anything for your birthday?"

"didn't feel up to it,"

"I knew I shouldn't have left you here alone," was that sympathy or pity in her voice? they sounded similar.

"it's fine,"

"no, it's not," your girlfriend huffs. "I feel bad,"

"don't need the pity, nessa." Vanessa reappears from the bedroom dressed in nothing but a long t-shirt. "isn't that mine?"

"probably," a quick shrug as she looks over herself, "I just... you could have come to the salon or something."

"it's not a big deal," you insist. "it's all good."

"you should care more," she replies, "and we're gonna finish it off right,"

"what does that even mean?" your brows furrow, eyes following the other woman to the kitchen area. "have you eaten?"

"Nah- thought I'd wait for you," truth be told you just didn't feel like cooking but a little white lie never hurt anyone. plus it sounded sweeter to think you waited just so you could eat together.

"Great," the woman spins on her heel and from her hand dangles a white plastic bag that explained the tantalising aroma that had enveloped the apartment. "because I brought take out."

"What kind?"

"Chinese," Proud words accompanied by a knowing smirk. "your favourite."

"you know me well," jumping up, you join Vanessa at the kitchen counter. she's unloading different cartons of food. a quick kiss is placed on her cheek as you grab the cutlery. nothing beats a little Chinese food after a long day

with dinner done and dusted, Vanessa tasks you with taking out the trash despite your protest. it was your birthday you shouldn't have to do it but there was no convincing your very stubborn girlfriend. marching all the way down the stairs of her apartment building; the elevator was once again, broken. it conveniently always seemed to be out of order when you wanted to use it. a slow climb back up, you arrive back to a very dark apartment. "power out or...?" that didn't make any sense. the lights in the hallway were clearly still on. the roar of the train brings with it a warm flicker of candlelight in the corner of the kitchen.

"happy birthday to you," her quiet melodic voice starts to sing as she turns slowly. in Vanessa's hand sits a cupcake with a single pink candle expertly placed in the centre. "happy birthday to you," slow careful steps closer, her hand shielding the flame. "happy birthday dear-"

"do we have to do this?"

"yes," she declared finishing off the song as she meets you in the middle. it's hard not to appreciate the cheesy gesture, an embarrassed smile settling on your lips. "now make a wish." taking a deep breath, you let your eyes flutter closed before blowing out the fire. handing over the cake, you swipe a little of the white frosting on the tip of your finger and into your mouth. sugary sweet. "how is it?"

"want a taste?" a playful quirk of your brow, you place the cupcake on the counter and pull Vanessa flush against you. her hands fall to your hips and you place your arms over her shoulders. "well?"

your girlfriend nods a little, keeping her eyes on yours. leaning in slowly, you connect your lips in a gentle embrace. Vanessa smiles into the kiss. " Feliz cumpleaños, cariño." whispered against your lips. "sorry for not doing more."

"don't be," you shrug a little. "this was enough. you are enough."

looking into her eyes and even in the darkness, you can tell she's holding something back. some comment or feeling. it's the same with you.  despite your words, that heavy feeling still burned in your chest. a lost, empty feeling that may never truly leave but you didn't want to have that conversation. "let's go to bed."

backing away from her, visible confusion crosses your face. "it's only like... ten?"

"exactly," Vanessa takes your hand, a smirk on her lips.

"what about my cupcake?"

"what about it?" A soft little giggle but you don't protest as she leads you towards the bedroom.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: The Right Direction.

Commission for the lovely @99shadowcat99.

Work Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader

Synopsis: Keigo’s never been one for routine. His life is too hectic, for that, and he just doesn’t have time for a real schedule. But, you do, and he likes that about you. Enough to keep nudging you in the right direction, at least.

TW: Death, Descriptions of Murder, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, Blood, Emotional Manipulation, Financial Manipulation, Gaslighting, Delusional Mindsets, and Unhealthy Dependancy.

It probably didn’t help that he hadn’t been in the best state of mind, when he first found you.

His industry could be stressful, sometimes, and Keigo’d already seen plenty of good heroes fall apart and shatter under the pressure. He tried to take it in stride. He was good at it, too, keeping the sparse remains of his decimated personal life separate from the constantly growing behemoth that was his career. Still, he had his moments of weakness, just like everyone else. Moments of weakness that led him to the threshold of a coworker's bedroom before he found an excuse to leave, to the highest rooftop he could find just to escape the noise of the city below, or in your case, the darkest corner of a well-worn dive bar, his vision blurring and his words slurring together before you saw fit to cut him off with a hand on his shoulder and a concerned smile.

Keigo didn’t have a reason to be as grateful as he was. He’d been drunk, but your call had been a precautious one, your jokes about avoiding a lawsuit from his manager too genuine to be completely disregarded. It’d been human decency to let him sleep it off in your backroom, and he couldn’t call you a saint for not turning him away when he came back the next day, and the night after that, and at least once a week for the month that followed. He was willing to accept that you’d been easy to latch onto. He liked your eyes, the way they crinkled at the edges as you laughed. Your voice was nice, easy on the ears, and he’d never been able to pin down your scent, like flowers and smoke and cheap liquor, all at the same time. It didn’t really matter why, though, and he didn’t like to think about it. He just liked you, a lot.

You were always there, always excatly where he needed you to be, and he appreciated that. He wasn’t going to tell himself there was another reason why he liked you so much. You were where you were supposed to be, always where you were supposed to be, and Keigo was close to loving you for it. Speaking off…

“Hey there, stranger.”

You were always right on time, too.

He pushed himself away from the cement wall just in time to feel you nudge against his side, your shoulder barely colliding with his. He knew your routine, by now. You always worked the closing shift, kicking out the last of your patrons and locking up a few hours after midnight before heading home, you route alresdy permanently engrained in his memory. It wasn’t uncommon for Keigo to wait for you, but you always sent him the same glance over your shoulder, the same teasing grin. You were a creature of habit, and he couldn’t say he minded. “For a busy man, you seem to have an awful lot of time on your hands,” You started, already turning away from him. “Our beloved Hawks doesn’t have any other adoring fans to grace with his presence?”

“None I like as much as you, sweetheart.” He didn’t miss a beat, but he let himself stumble as he followed your lead, earning a laugh and an excuse to hook his arm around your elbow, his hand finding yours soon after. It was a common gesture of affection between the two of you, but Keigo’s heart still beat a little faster, his face flushing and making him thankful for the flickering streetlights. “Let me walk you home,” He went on, if only for the sake of ritual. You’d stopped trying to politely refuse weeks ago, and it’d been months since he’d taken ‘no’ for an answer. “Patrol might be over, but I can still make sure nothing happens to my favorite civilian.”

“Oh, really?” Another mocking tone, a playful squeeze to his hand. You were the one to intertwine your fingers with his, this time, and Keigo forced himself to keep his eyes on the sidewalk. “And what, prey tell, are you afraid the world’s going to throw at me in the block between my bar and the train station?”

It was actually three blocks, three and a half if he counted the range he combed through meticulously every night before meeting you, but Keigo didn’t bother verbalizing the correction. “I’ve seen all kinds of things happen in a block,” He admitted, shrugging, trying to sound casual enough to come off as genuine. “A villain could go on rampage, someone could lose control of their quirk… Hell, a waitress with a vendetta could be burning your bar to the ground, as we speak.”

There was a slight pause, then a humourless chuckle. Just as he’d expected. “It’d be a good night to try. My boss might beat them to it, otherwise.”

Keigo hummed, slowing his pace down as yours began to falter. “I’m guessing there’s trouble in paradise?”

“Nothing I didn’t expect,” You sighed. He recognized your expression, the slight glare, the effortful frown of someone frustrated with their situation, but resigned to the inevitability of it. “I never thought I’d spend the rest of my life working at some sketchy, second-rate bar, I just… We’ve been losing business, and the place is falling apart, and he just seems so... so alright with it. It’s like someone’s paying him to run the place into the ground.”

Someone was. Someone was giving your greasy, gutless, greedy employer enough to last him well into retirement to do just that, to sit back and make sure you wouldn’t have to spend another day serving leering customers with irresponsible coworkers, but you wouldn’t want to hear it from him. You wouldn't understand why he was doing it. It’d break your routine, and you’d be thrown out of your little, familiar world too quickly. 

You didn’t need to know, so Keigo didn’t need to tell you.

“It’s not the only sketchy bar in the world,” He tried. “We could always use another warm body at the agency, if you’re interested. Just as something to tide you over, obviously, I… I wouldn’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

Like he’d said, you were a creature of habit. It took you half a second to shake your head, and another to relax, your next sigh one of fondness, rather than irritation. He glanced in your direction just in time to meet your eyes. Just in time to watch your gaze drift over his shoulder, towards the narrow, cramped sidestreet behind him, the one he'd almost been worried you wouldn't reach. Just in time to notice your smile fade, your mouth fall open, and just in time to catch you, as your knees buckled and anything you might’ve said was drowned out by a long, wordless scream.

He might’ve been a little over-zealous, in hindsight. The body would’ve probably been enough on its own, slumped over and bloodied, but she’d been yelling so loudly, thrashing and kicking and fighting long past the point of stubborn futility, and Keigo must’ve lost his temper somewhere between pinning her down and wrapping his hands around her neck. He’d put so much thought into it, too, using a knife rather than one of his feathers and letting her drag herself just far enough to be visible from the sidewalk before serving the killing blow. But, leaving her sprawled across the pavement, the wounds in her back still and the blood still pooling beneath her chest...

It might’ve been overkill. That was on Keigo, but he was sure you'd find a way to forgive him.

“She’s not.” It was short, blunt, straight to the point. You didn’t try to protest, and Keigo took to unlocking his phone. One of his sidekicks should’ve still been on-duty, and he wanted his agency on this before the police could get involved. It’d be easier, that way. Usually, a hero would only be called in after the crime’s already solved and a suspect’s been found, but no one questions the guy trying to solve the case. “But, we’re not going to let the same thing happen to you, alright? Some of my guys are already on their way, and I’m going to find the psycho who did this.”

Still, the carnage served its purpose. He could already feel you going limp, falling against him as you stared at the grisly scene, barely making half an attempt to push him away before digging your nails into his shirt, instead. “That’s… That’s my roommate,” You gasped, your voice shaking, all jagged fear and sudden terror. Momentarily, he wondered if he should’ve been more subtle. “She shouldn’t-- She’s supposed to be at home, I don’t know why she’d--” There was an abrupt pause, a hasty, choked silence. You slumped against him, letting Keigo wrap his arm around your waist, your earlier anxiety gone and replaced with numb, festering shock. You were trembling, by the time you continued, but for whatever reason, Keigo couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. “I… I should check on her. She might be--”

There was a stilted nod, an uneven breath. “T-thank you, Takami.”

“That’s what I’m here for, right?” He allowed himself a small smile, a light tap to your side. “You’re going to have to stick around for a little while. I’ll try to make it quick, but if that really is your roommate, we’ll have to ask a few questions. Then you’ll be free to head home.”

Keigo could’ve laughed as you went stiff, your relief dissolving as swiftly as it’d appeared. “I… I don’t know if I should….” You were quick to trail off, to avert your eyes as your thoughts turned towards self-preservation. Keigo could already hear sirens in the distance, but he wanted to be selfish for just a little longer. Just a few more seconds, before he went back to being your concerned friend. Just your concerned friend, unfortunately. “Would that be safe?”

Of course not. He’d wrecked the place, breaking every window and decimating every lock, but you didn’t know that yet, so neither did he.

Rather than giving you a reassuring answer, Keigo only pulled away, moving to cup your cheek. “I mean, I should check it out first. That might take all night, though, and there’s something wrong, we’ll be lucky to finish this week,” He explained, watching your expression darken, clouding over with something between blind fear and impending dread. “But, I don’t know if I’d be able to focus with you in some shitty, unguarded hotel, either. And…” He let himself trail off before breaking into a small smile. Not disarming, but soothing. Just softened enough to encourage you to do the same. “You know I always have room for you back at my place. Only if you trust me to take care of you, of course.”

You barely hesitated before falling into him, wrapping your arm around his neck as you buried your face in his chest, words of appreciation mixing with cracked, half-choked sobs. Keigo welcomed it. Why wouldn’t he?

He was your knight in shining armor, your valiant protector. And you were his rock, his routine, the one thing that kept him sane. He deserved a little praise every now and then, didn’t he? And besides, he had to take advantage of his oh-so-heroic image while he could.

He doubted you'll be so grateful, once you find out just how much he’s done to keep you by his side.

[taones]

If You Can Hold On - Part 2

Pairing: Poly!Asahi, Daichi + Suga x gender neutral!reader

Notes: lowkey have a mention of Yachi x Kiyoko in this ayyyy and the reader reflecting my thoughts about rain whoop 

Warnings: pining, angst, requited-unrequited love cause we love some dramatic irony, this whole series is hurt/comfort

Find part one here

Soft murmurs woke you from your rough sleep. After hearing them talk about adding another person to their relationship, it was kind of hard to have a good rest. The car had stopped. You four were now parked in a motel car park, bathed in the signs' soft red light. 

“I went in but they only have one room, so all four of us will have to share” 

The disappointed tone to Daichi’s statement felt like an arrow through your heart. You guys were best friends, you shared beds all the time. Why would that matter now? Ever since you had known them you had been comfortable sharing beds etc, even after they started dating. The fact it was different now made you think back to their earlier conversation about a new partner. Did this person not like you? Maybe that was why they weren’t as close with you. The shuffling of your tallest friend pulled your attention once again. They were getting out of the car.

Once again, you pretended to be asleep. There was now ay you were ready to face them without crying and you really didn’t want Asahi to ask for his hoodie back. You were scared it would be the last part of him you had for a long time. The sharp twinge of panic shot through your stomach at the thought of it. There was always a chance that their new partner would like you but not as many people would be as comfortable with their s/o being as close to their friend as those three were. 

“It’s okay” you heard Asahi whisper, “I’ll carry them”

You stirred at that. If he touched you, you were certain you would cry. S it was a perfect time to break your facade. The soft glimmer of tears in your eyes was hidden by the scarlet light shining on your face, something you were thankful for. Cold, wet gravel seeped through the mesh of your shoes but it was okay as long as you were going to be in the room soon, able to be away from the constant reminder the boys gave you. In your ‘sleepy’ state, you pulled your bags out of the car and grabbed the keys from Daichi’s hand. In your haste to walk away, you missed the look of despair on Asahi’s face and the way his shorter boyfriend held his hand to his chest as if you had burnt it with your hasty touch.

The room itself was painted a bright yellow, something you assumed would be more bright if you weren’t feeling so dull yourself. There was a queen size bed in the centre of the room and a sofa off to the side. It was as if the red of the sofa cushions was mocking you with its garish colour, reminding you that you would never actually be with the other three. You scoffed and layed your things on the sofa before pulling out some pyjama shorts and one of Koushi’s t-shirts that you had borrowed. Just as the boys came in, you disappeared into the tiny bathroom to get changed. 

Thinking you had escaped, you sighed and leant against the door. Only to hear the voices of the three men loud and clear. 

“I wonder what’s wrong with y/n” Koushi asked, seemingly dismissive

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon, they don’t hide anything from us” the comforting voice of Sawamura responded

If only they knew just how much you hid from them. If only they knew that even being around them right now was literally breaking your heart. 

“Wait look what I took the other day Suga, it’ll cheer you up”

You heard Azumane pull out his phone and then a sound of awe from the grey haired man.

“I wish we could ask them to join us sooner but we have to wait till we’re back huh?” Suga lamented, “wish this trip could be over already” 

Ouch, that one hurt.

So he was showing them a picture of this mystery person. You really didn’t understand why they hadn’t told you yet. It only made the feeling of dread in you grow, expanding into a pit that sucked in all of your other emotions. If they really wanted this to be over then you may as well just leave them now. Let them leave you behind and pursue this person that you’ll never be.

A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking in the mirror, you noticed tears you didn’t realise had fallen. You managed to hastily rub the evidence of your face and leave the yellow lit room in time for it to not seem too suspicious. You grabbed the blanket that had been laid over the sofa and walked out the door. 

“I’ll be right back, just have to do something” you muttered, avoiding eye contact “don’t wait up for me” 

Cold gravel crunched against your shoes once again and air pricked at your exposed legs. The pool. It was dimly lit but hadn’t been covered so you assumed it was okay for you to sit in. The water was a clear blue and slightly warmed from the earlier sunshine. Perfect for you to stick your legs in. Water and night had always managed to calm you down and stop your thoughts racing. While this was no rain storm, it was good enough for you to swish your cold limbs in and make the calming sounds you liked so much. 

Your reflection stared back at you from the water. There was no hiding the mess you were in, hair dishevelled and an old blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It was no wonder they didn’t want you. The soft ringtone you recognised as Kiyoko’s wrenched you back to reality.

“Hello?” you sniffed down the phone

Kiyoko was another best friend of yours but one you were fortunately not in love with. She and Yachi had been on holiday when you had left but it was clear the couple was now back. Shimizu was the only person that knew about your feelings.

“How are you holding up y/n” her soft voice rang in your ears

“Not well” you admitted, “It’s like they’re doing it on purpose Shimizu”

She hummed, never one for too many words

“They want to add another person to their relationship but they made sure i was sleeping when they talked about it. I don’t know why but it hurts Kiyoko. I know it’s selfish but it hurts so bad, I don’t know how much longer I can take this trip”

Something inside you broke down. It had been a while since you had been able to get this off your chest and it was like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. Tears rolled down your cheeks for what felt like the hundredth time this trip.

“Do you need us to come pick you up y/n?” the woman's voice asked, concern clear

“I really don't know” you admitted with defeat, “I’ll see how it goes but I hate this so much”

The conversation ended rather quickly after that. It was late for you both after all and it had started raining so you had to put your phone in your bag to prevent it from getting wet. What you didn’t notice was the flash of cropped brunette hair disappearing behind your room door.

Cold rain hit your skin. It was refreshing, a break from what you were feeling. Rain was simple. Rain didn’t have feelings, didn’t have thoughts. It was just nice, cool rain and you revelled in it’s simplistic beauty. With closed eyes, you laid on the pool tile and let the droplets hit your face. Even as it got colder and heavier, it was nothing compared to what you felt on the inside and this was something you were thankful for. The silence was comforting and you let your mind slip into nothing but the rain.

Suga came out to check on you after half an hour, worried about the rain. When he saw you laying next to the pool, covered in a layer of wetness and your face cold, he felt a cold wash of fear come over him. The soft rise and fall of your chest reassured him but he knew he would have to get you inside. Asahi came to stand next to his shorter partner, resting his chin on his shoulder sleepily. 

“I wish I knew what was going on in their head sometimes” the grey haired man whispered, “I wish I knew how to save them”

His counterpart hummed and moved to pick your sleeping figure from the ground. You were cold to the touch and your face lacked the despair that had been plaguing it for the whole trip. He felt a flower of guilt grow in the pit of his stomach at the thought the rain had made you happier then they ever could. 

“C’mon” called Daichi from the doorway, “They’re gonna catch their death we need to get them some clothes”

You limp hand came up to grasp at the fabric, not wanting to let go of the comforting presence even in sleep. Three melancholy smiles were sent your way, not that you would ever know. They knew you hated smiles of pity, even if that’s the only ones you really seemed to get from them anymore.

@bewwybun @xeina @mage-moon @naimalove143 @bisasterrr @aristatrois​ @hamiltrash1411​ @tazzi-baby​ @adreamoflonelyaddiction​ 

Hope you guys enjoy, sorry it took so long and sorry about any typos it’s been a long week

[lovemesomeharry]

REASSURANCE

Warnings: Angst

Words: 2k

Summary: Harry feels insecure and needs reassurance that Y/N won’t leave him.

The sun was shining, birds were singing and the sound of water splashing made the summer feeling even sweeter. The distant sound of people talking was almost unnoticeable, compared to the hectic and loud streets of London, Y/N, and Harry was so used to. It almost made them forget how quiet the world could be and they were thankful for the little getaway into a peaceful habitat to recollect themselves.

Currently, Y/N was sitting on a chair on the balcony of the small Italian house, reading a book Harry urged her to, a while ago, and eating grapes every once in a while when she had to turn the page. Her white summer dress was floating in the wind and her hair was up in a ponytail to keep the strains of hair out of her concentrated face. The tip of her tongue was sticking out as she tried to imagine the scenario she had just read, not noticing her boyfriend staring at her in awe further away.

Harry was trying to cool himself down at the small pool, Y/N had great access at looking at, and he had hoped she’d join him but she was too focussed on her reading to even notice the lack of attention she was giving her boyfriend. Wet hair was sticking to his forehead and tiny little droplets we're covering his body when he looked up to see her sitting on the balcony. His heart immediately picked up on speed and started to hammer harder against his ribcage. His emerald eyes were scanning every single one of her outlines, trying his best to memorize them as if she was his favorite painting he never wanted to forget.

With a muffed sigh he got out of the pool and instantly felt the hot ground beneath his feet as he grabbed a towel to dry himself off a bit, knowing well that his girlfriend wouldn't approve of him getting the expensive Italian carpet wet.

It was really not a big deal to him but it was to her and he was glad about it. She kept him grounded, even though Harry could swear he was on cloud nine, nowhere near the ground, whenever he remembered she was his to love and he was hers.

He truly couldn't grasp how she’d even consider being with him, knowing what consequences and difficulties he had brought into her life but he was too selfish to push her away and he was happy she never considered leaving him. Even if he couldn’t understand her decision.

When he finally got to see her again, she didn't notice him right away. For a moment Harry let the cold fan air surround him before he decided that she’d spent enough time reading a book. With big and fast steps, he walked into the balcony and stopped right behind her so he could wrap his arms around her shoulders.

A small shriek left her lips and her body jolted forward a bit, making Harry smirk. “Hey, love. What are you doing?” He wrapped his arms tighter around her as she tried to push him away slightly.

“Don’t scare me like that!” She complained but did not close the book yet much to Harry’s dislike. He wanted all of her attention on him. “Besides I was reading the book you wanted me to.” She held the book up so he could see what she was reading. He nuzzled his face into her neck, covering it with sweet kisses as a blush crept onto his face, heating his face up. She couldn’t be more adorable to him than at this moment, he thought. He loved that she always listened to him and paid attention to what he was saying. It made the butterflies in his stomach go crazy knowing she cared enough about him to read one of his favorite books. He knew he’d read her favorites within a second but never expected her to return the favor. “Thought we could talk about it once I finish it.” Y/N suggested only making those emotions Harry was feeling stronger. He really wondered how she still had this effect on him after all this time being together and hoped he was causing the same impact on her.

“Sure.” He said leaving open mouth kisses on her jaw. “But first, your boyfriend needs some attention.” She turned her head to the side to get a look at his beautiful face and got lost into his mesmerizing eyes once she looked into them. His long eyelashes were framing them perfectly and the tiny freckles on his face made her want to count them so she could tell everyone how many he had on his cheeks. She felt his large hands grip her forearm, squeezed it slightly before he planted a kiss on her nose. Her body melted into his embrace as if it was missing his kisses the whole day and craved them already.

When he let go of her she made sure to take his hand in hers and put the book on the round glass table in front of her. Her legs, that were pulled up to her chest, were set back on the ground so that she could have better look at him. He sat down next to her, squeezing her hand back when a small yawn escaped his mouth.

“Are you tired, baby?” She asked and studied her boyfriend carefully. His lips turned upwards and with his other hand, he ran through his fluffy mustache that was tickling her neck not even a few seconds ago. He looked so different with it, she thought but not in a bad way. He looked older with his ’Mario mustache’, as he liked to refer to it, and made him feel proud of finally being able to grow some facial hair. And it came in handy in the bedroom. So how could she ever dislike the little bit of hair?

He nodded his head. “A bit.” She couldn’t deny that he was looking tired but not enough for him to be craving a deep slumber.

“Should we go to bed?” She asked only making Harry feel softer for her. She said ‘we’ and it made his heart swoon and wonder what he’d done to deserve an angel like her.

God, he was so whipped.

“No. But come here.” He hummed and opened his arms. No more words were needed for her to understand what he’d meant and she was already climbing on his lap. Her legs were dangled from each side and her hands found their way into his hair, pulling slightly on the hair on his neck. A deep, satisfied sigh left his mouth and he had to fight the urge to kiss her breathless, fearing he’d be too clingy. “I love you. You know that, right?” He asked instead and held her hips tighter.

Worry was clouding his innocent face and Y/N could only frown. “Of course, H. Is everything alright?” She didn’t want him to think that she didn’t know that because she did. She felt so appreciated, adored, and mostly so incredibly loved because he never failed to prove his feelings to her. Even if it’s just making her coffee the way she liked it or him knowing when she’d get her period so he’d have all the candy ready, she was going to crave.

Sometimes she’d even feel bad about it, thinking she wasn’t giving him enough love. Thinking he deserved somebody better as she did at that moment. Maybe she should have put the book away and focussed more on him, she thought.

Her fingers were massaging his head in hope of calming him down. “Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you know that.” He shook his head as if he was trying to figure his words out and let out a breathy but nervous laugh. “I don’t deserve you, angel. You’re too good to me.” Y/N wanted to ask him if he was joking but seeing the sincerity in his eyes made her swallow the lump in her throat. How could he ever think that, she wondered truthfully.

“Why would you say that?” Her hands stopped playing with his hair, what Harry didn’t like but he kept his mouth shut about it. His heart aches to see the worry and hurt in her eyes as the previous sparkle died down. He mentally cursed at himself for making her feel this way when it was supposed to be their getaway vacation, for them to escape the hectic world they lived in.

His fingers were playing with the fabric of her dress, which she looked ravishing in, only making her look more like an actual angel. “I don’t know why you’re with me when I bring more trouble than joy.” His shoulders sagged and the sadness in his voice made a painful throb run through her heart. She couldn’t believe he would think that and felt as if she didn’t do a good job as his girlfriend proving to him that he was all she ever needed. Y/N wished she could make those thoughts disappear out of his head, but to Harry, they came completely naturally after multiple broken relationships due to his lifestyle no one seemed to be able to put up with. And to think that she’ll leave him too, was a pain no one could’ve ever prepared himself for. Just by the thought of never holding her again and getting to smell her sweet scent made him tear up and something laced his neck, keeping him from breathing.

“Harry, that’s not true. I love you.” She tried to reassure him and once he lowered his gaze she took his chin into her hands, forcing him to look at her. The corner of his eyes was filling up with tears and Y/N wondered how she didn’t realize what was going on in her boyfriend's head. “I’m sorry if I hadn’t made it clear before but there’s no one and nothing I’d trade you for. Ever.”

“It’s just-“ He stopped to take a deep breath to collect his thoughts. “I, I’m scared, ok? I’m scared that one day you’ll wake up and not love me anymore. That you’ll realize I’m not worth the trouble.” Y/N saw how he was fighting with his tears, felt how his hands started shaking around her hips, and his voice got so quiet that he was barely whispering. She wanted to kiss his troubles away but felt so helpless not knowing what to do. “Sometimes I wonder if I should just let you go, but I’m too selfish.”

“Love, I never wanted you to be selfish more than I do right now.” Her voice was slowing losing its power and tears started to form at the brim of her eyes. “I love you, Harry. I love you so much and I really don’t care what we have to go through as long as we’re in this together.” She pressed her forehead against his and let the small skin contact send shivers down her spine and try her best to take all this negativity away. Her fingers were gripping his face and pulling him closer, if it was possible. “You’ve no idea how much you mean to me. You’re worth risking everything for and I’d rather lose everything before I’ll lose you. My heart just wouldn’t be able to take it.”

Harry was still battling inner thoughts even though he believed her and Y/N saw the conflict going on inside of him. Her thumb stroked his cheek and finally, he started to lean into her touch. He breathed the hot air out of his lungs when he pulled back to look at her properly. ”You sure?”

”I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” And with that, she finally captured his lips with hers, trying her hardest to get the insecurity out of him. His soft lips moved perfectly in rhythm with hers and by the shape of their mouths, both parties were convinced that their lips were meant to be together. Harry sighed into the kiss and even though he still believed she could get someone better he was happy she still wanted to be with him and didn't mind giving him the reassurance he sometimes needed. Y/N on the other hand already planned to devote her heart to him for the rest of her life and make it her life goal to prove to him that he was all she ever wanted, needed, and loved.

[satendou]

⟼ if you can’t beat ‘em

⍣ clueless chemistry series | next

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  pairing: bokuto kotaro/f!reader/kuroo tetsuro

⇢ au: clueless chem!au, college!au, poly!au

⇢ summary: you and kuroo have it bad for each other, even though you’re dating bokuto. ignoring it for the sake of your relationships, it turns out bokuto isn’t as oblivious as you think.

⇥  masterlist

⇢  warnings: established relationship, polyamory, smut, double penetration in one hole, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected sex

⇢  word count: 8k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  a/n: idk how good this one actually is so we’ll see

The front door opened as you were putting three frozen pizzas in the oven, a deep, amused voice calling out a greeting to you. Your heart dropped from your chest to your stomach, almost dropping the pizza in your surprise.

“Back again? Just can’t stay away, can you?” Kuroo asked, dropping his bag with a muffled thump* by the door. You could hear the sound of his shoes hitting the floor as well, and then it seemed like he was suddenly behind you. “Bokuto home yet?”

“Hey, Kuroo. No,” you answered, trying to keep the nerves singing in your stomach at bay. Had you known he would be here before Bokuto, you might have opted to stick around for Bo’s practice instead. “He should be home soon though.”

As if to prove your point, both your phones dinged at the same time. Kuroo unlocked his first, reading Bokuto’s message in the group chat saying he would be home in ten. 

“How were classes?” you asked as you checked your own texts. Bokuto had sent you a separate text full of heart emojis and an ‘eye love you’, to which you chuckled and typed back. There was a series of texts trying to determine meet up times for a group project in one of your classes, which you ignored for the time being. They would spend the next twelve hours trying to figure it out amongst themselves, so you had time. “The fuckin’ economy professor is killing me this semester.”

Kuroo laughed while you set the timer. His eyes lingered on the way your legs stretched out from underneath Bokuto’s old Fukurodani jersey before he winced.

The last thing he should be doing was eye-fucking his best friend’s girlfriend. He bit his lip and averted his eyes out the window, seriously considering all of his life choices, right down to the choice not to get a drink at the bar the night Bokuto met you.

Ugh, lucky bastard, he snarled in his head, but it was filled with amused aggravation at himself. Jealousy was unbecoming, especially when he was as envious of Bokuto as he was of you. What an awful friend he was. Up until the day Bokuto had met you, Kuroo had kept whatever feelings he’d had for Bokuto in check, refusing to linger or inspect them deeper than as a surface level platonic interest. He was afraid if he looked too closely at them, they would take root and flourish and then he would really be screwed.

But seeing the two of you together had really stuck in his craw and forced those dormant feelings to the forefront. At first, he hadn’t liked you because he was jealous. Yet, the longer he was forced to be in your presence and he saw how unbearably happy you made Bo, the more he just accepted that that was how things were meant to be. When he accepted that, it allowed him to start to get to know you.

And about that was around the time he realized he was actually, really, and truly fucked.

Turning back to you, he found you giving him a soft, pensive look that tugged at the fine strings holding his heart, which he chose to ignore for everyone’s sake. “Yeah, I had him last semester and it only gets worse. He’s gonna give you some insane project about halfway through the semester, so if you need help, let me know. I aced it, after all.”

You had quickly averted your eyes, cheeks flushing a light pink when he caught you staring, but you laughed into your hand. “Thanks, I appreciate that. Not gonna lie, I’m already kinda lost as it is. All the numbers and different...whatever. I need to really study if I’m gonna keep up, ugh.”

The offer to help was on the tip of his tongue when the door opened and Bokuto stumbled in, calling a raucous greeting, causing guilt to flood his system again. There was no reason to feel that way either, he was just going to offer you help, it wasn’t even an underhanded attempt to spend time alone with you, for fuck’s sake. Not that it wouldn’t be a perk but you were dating his best friend. He would reign in his urges for that if for no other reason.

Trying not to read too much into the way you scampered away from him, he watched you smile at Bokuto, who swept you up in a hug. The burning in his chest was a mix of affection and jealousy, and it left a bitter tang on his tongue as he looked away. The sun was mostly gone by that point, and the lights of Tokyo were starting to twinkle. 

For a brief moment he considered going out to find somewhere else to be for the night. Watching the two of you simper over each other all night would be enough to make him puke, and yet he found himself parked on the opposite end of the couch from you, watching Fight Club. Just as expected, you were curled up against Bo’s chest while he told the two of you about practice and classes, and the gap between you and Kuroo felt like a canyon.

“Where’s ‘Kaashi?” you asked at last, when the clock struck ten. The pizza was long gone by then and you were settled into Bokuto’s chest, his hand warm on your back through the jersey you wore. It was abnormal for him to be so late getting home, and you narrowed your eyes at Bokuto’s smirk.

He snickered into his hand, grinning knowingly. It was oddly devilish coming from your light-hearted partner. It did strange things to you, sending chills down your spine, and you shifted closer to him. “He’s out on a study-date, but I don’t think he’ll be coming home tonight.”

Kuroo scoffed on your other side before snickering. “Since when are you so observant, Ko?”

“I’m a lot more observant than you might think, Tetsu.” 

There was a strange, new edge to Bokuto’s voice when he answered, sending both of your hearts racing when you heard it. It set off something akin to alarm bells, and you and Kuroo looked at each other.

When you had first got together with Bokuto, you had been forthright with him. You liked him a lot, but you were someone who liked having multiple partners. Of course, Bokuto being Bokuto it hadn’t made a difference to him. 

“Alright, cool. Not sure I’m interested, but thanks for letting me know. Now how ‘bout we go get some ice cream?”

At the time, you hadn’t believed he truly understood what you meant, but after a few more conversations and hints, he finally got the big picture. And still didn’t seem to care. 

As he had said during that first conversation, he showed no interest in dating outside of you, and so it made you feel a bit guilty about going on any dates when he was almost single-mindedly devoted. Then again, it had taken you a decent while to get to the point where you wanted to date other people. Bokuto took up a lot of your time that wasn’t already taken up by classes and work. He was a ball of energy that left you no chance to even consider interest in anyone else.

Maybe that was why you had fallen for Kuroo. Besides Akaashi, he was the friend that you spent the most time with, but you didn’t care to date any of the other people you met. 

No, that wasn’t right. You didn’t date them for long, if one date could be called dating. It was fine--  you weren’t looking for anything. Just, sometimes you would agree to coffee or dinner and then ghost or be ghosted after that.

You still couldn’t pinpoint when you had fallen for Kuroo, either. With Bokuto, you had taken an instant liking to him, with his loud vibrance and undying enthusiasm. His more or less blind optimism and kindness towards everyone didn’t hurt either.

Kuroo, on the other hand, had started out a bit...abrasive. You couldn’t tell what were jokes; he was constantly picking and teasing, and it grated on your nerves for a while. A few of your other friends called him a “master of provocation” and it sounded stupid but you could also see what they meant. He was certainly good at getting under your skin.

Which was why it surprised you when you saw him one day and felt the familiar stir of emotions, your eyes starting to linger on him longer and seek him out. His teasing became less annoying and more endearing, your laughter coming more easily in response to it. You would guess it was around that time that his gaze started lingering on you longer than was appropriate, and that you began to catch his eyes.

The longer it went on, the more you realized a lot of things about Kuroo. How he liked his coffee-- black if he had an early morning class, but with a lot creamer if he wasn’t going anywhere-- and that his teasing was interlaced with a lot of good advice and kindness-- you just had to know where to look. He was smart, top of the class in most if not all the science courses, funny, handsome, and kind. And the way Bokuto talked about him, like Kuroo was some kind of saint with a sarcastic streak, really didn’t help.

It really wasn’t much of a surprise when you considered all that. But he was one of Bokuto’s best friends, strictly off limits. You were definitely not about to go and ruin their friendship because you couldn’t control yourself.

You weren’t going to be that selfish.

Neither was Kuroo, even though he never said as much. It wasn’t something either of you had ever even considered bringing up amongst yourselves, beyond weighing the pros and cons of doing so.

Pros: maybe you realized it wasn’t a crush after all and you could settle into a friendship.

Cons: you fucked up big time.

Pretty simple answer.

But no matter how hard you tried to ignore the feelings and treat each other as friends, it wasn’t that simple.

“What do you mean, Ko?” Kuroo asked, quirking his eyebrow at Bokuto. There was a small smile toying at the corners of his lips, but his narrowed eyes belied his concern.

You admired his ability to sound so calm and collected when your heart was racing so fast in your chest you were lightheaded. The accusatory tone in Bokuto’s voice wasn’t even fair when you hadn’t even done anything--

You remained tucked into Bokuto’s side, head craned up to look into your partner’s face, but you couldn’t get a read on him. Usually he was so open, betraying every emotion he was feeling in a given moment, but besides the narrow, calculating look in his eyes, there was nothing. 

“Ko?” you murmured, tentatively covering his hand with yours.

“Like you don’t know, Kuroo. I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Bokuto answered, slipping his hand out from under yours. You found yourself hoisted further up into his lap, planted sideways across his thighs, and your heart made its way into your throat. Tears burned your eyes as you looked at Kuroo, pleading with him to save this.

Kuroo looked right back at you, alarm evident in his eyes, before looking back up to Bokuto as he shook his head. “It isn’t like that, Ko. You know it isn’t. And she hasn’t-- we haven’t--”

So focused on Kuroo, you didn’t notice Bokuto’s arm sliding around your waist until it was pulling you back slightly, so that you were putting your weight on it. Bracing yourself on your leg wasn’t an option either because Bo had already hooked his other arm under your knee, pulling until you were splayed out before Kuroo, who had a sudden inkling this wasn’t going to go the way either of you expected.

Still, he kept his arms locked across his chest, legs crossed as he kept his eyes firmly on Bokuto’s unreadable yellow ones. He was actually a little concerned about how Bo was suddenly so good at that-- it made him uneasy, not being able to tell exactly what he was thinking. It had been years since Kuroo had learned all of Bokuto’s tells but he was seeing none whatsoever now.

“I know you haven’t, because I trust the both of you,” Bokuto responded, and finally looked down at you. His arm came out from under your knee so he could cradle your face, giving you the first soft smile you had seen since he had first started...whatever this was. It almost* eased the tightness in your chest, but you were still confused. Then he laughed, boisterous and full and loud and both you and Kuroo jumped a mile high. “Don’t worry, guys. I’m not mad. I mean, have you seen her? I’d be more concerned if you weren’t interested.”

You gaped like a fish and Kuroo’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, only making him laugh harder at the utter confusion all over both of your faces.

Kuroo was the first to recover, blinking wildly, and his concern for you was evident. “You mean you aren’t mad? We’ve never even talked about it let alone acted on it so I think we were both confused but--”

“Bro, Akaashi noticed ages ago how the two of you were acting and asked what was going on. Was super concerned but I told him it was cool and that we were open so I didn’t mind,” Bokuto explained, and his arm around you relaxed as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. He smiled when you cuddled down into him, curling your knees up so that you were tucked close into his chest. “Sorry, baby. I just wanted to have a little fun.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled up and spilled down your cheeks, and Bokuto was quick to ramp up his apologies, swiping at the tears with his thumbs while Kuroo chuckled from his seat. When you looked up at him, his pretty yellow eyes were swimming with regret, but you weren’t quite ready to forgive him yet.

“The hell, Ko? I was really scared. I thought you were gonna-- gonna leave me or--” You hiccupped, hiding your face in his shirt. Fingers curling into his shirt, you wiped your eyes on his shoulder, feeling his large, warm hands rubbing your back. You weren’t sure what the or was, but it had something to do with cutting you and maybe even Kuroo out of the picture. 

You were shaking against him and Bokuto was just starting to think he’d really fucked up when you pulled back and kissed him full on the mouth. He could feel your lips quirk up against his, taste the salt from your tears on his tongue, but then you were playfully smacking his chest while you huffed out a laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he answered, glancing at Kuroo from the corner of his eyes. His friend was examining his perfectly filed nails with feigned disinterest, picking at nonexistent dirt underneath them, and he smirked. “Why didn’t you guys tell me about it, though? Or at least you, _____. You know I don’t mind.”

“Uh-- well--” you stuttered, and looked to Kuroo again. He looked mildly curious, and you realized he didn’t really know about yours and Bokuto’s arrangement either. Probably because Bokuto completely forgot to mention it, if you had to guess. Things like that slipped his mind often when they weren’t pressing. Sometimes even the important things did as well, but you couldn’t blame him. Much softer and a little shy, you continued, “He’s your friend, Ko. I didn’t want to do that. Especially to you and Kuroo.”

The corner of Kuroo’s mouth ticked up, affection for you flooding his system, and the soft look Bokuto gave you only made it worse. He wished he was on the receiving end of anything from either of you, but it wasn’t possible. But he was curious to know what you and Bo were talking about. You didn’t want to do what* that Ko didn’t care about? With him*?

But Bokuto was too busy showering you with affection to notice anything Kuroo was doing, so he contented himself to watch him whisper in your ear and listen to you giggle in return. Why he was still just sitting there was beyond him when he was suffering for it, wanting everything the two of you had. Jealousy flared in his ribs and spread down through his stomach, icy hot tendrils wrapping around his heart until he thought it might burst. He really was such an awful friend.

The couch shifted and you broke from Bokuto to look at Kuroo, who had stood up but was staring with fixed determination at the TV. The look on his face was twisting and turning, changing from anger to resignation to hurt and back again, as if he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to feel.

Scoffing at what was on the screen, he turned towards the hall. It was all well and good that the two of you could make up and move on, but the longer Kuroo sat and thought about it, the angrier he became at Bokuto’s ‘joke’. As if his feelings were just something to amuse him and he wasn’t about to sit here and be made fun of, but he wasn’t about to blow up on the two of you either. It wasn’t your fault he was...feeling like this.

Except it kind of was Bokuto’s but he wouldn’t understand.

“Where you goin’, Tetsu?” Bokuto asked, but his eyes were narrowed in amusement. Over the last few months of watching the two of you, he had learned more about Kuroo’s expressions and tells, things he had missed in the years that they had known each other. The way Kuroo’s eyes would narrow just before he said something he knew would tick someone off, the way his eyes would water just the tiniest bit before he told a joke he thought was hilarious, or how he would suck his lip in and nibble when he was holding his tongue on something-- which was rare-- were just a few.

He had also taken notice of the way he stared at not only you, but Bokuto himself. Now, Bokuto would be the first to admit that he wasn’t the most observant or the smartest, but he knew a wistful look when he saw one and he was the constant target of Kuroo’s. He was probably neck and neck with you, but he couldn’t be sure how much longer he’d been on the receiving end. When he asked Akaashi about it, he had only shrugged, commenting, “Maybe he likes you too. Have you thought of that?”

The answer was no, no he hadn’t. But that had started some weird gears turning in Bokuto’s volleyball addled brain and sooner rather than later he wondered if he hadn’t developed feelings for Kuroo in return. It wasn’t like he was oblivious to how attractive his friend was, but in Bokuto’s mind it didn’t work that way. He liked what he liked and Kuroo had been around for so long that he never thought about how deep his feelings might run. He was just such a constant in his life that it didn’t occur to him there might be more to it, not like when he had met you. His feelings for you were instantly recognizable, but the more he delved into watching Kuroo, the more he realized those same feelings applied.

It was all very confusing to Bokuto, who usually just lived by a run and gun mentality, and tonight he was shooting his shot.

Right now Kuroo was biting his tongue so hard Bokuto was sure it was bleeding inside his mouth, and he laughed again, his answer short and bitten out. “Just going to go to bed. It’s getting too lovey-dovey in here for my tastes.”

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest, knowing that Kuroo was hurting. None of this was fair to him, but what could you do? It wasn’t like it was fair to you either, nor was it fair to Bokuto. You had made your choice-- you loved Bo and that was all there was to it. “Kuroo, I’m sorry.”

Your words caused him to falter, soft and unbearably sweet. It took everything he had to stop himself from turning around because seeing you would just make it that much harder. Sighing, he said quietly, “It isn’t your fault, _____. None of this is anyone’s fault. Except maybe Bokuto’s for bringing you around.”

He snickered at the offended squawk that left his friend who, unbeknownst to him, leaned down and whispered something into your ear.

Your eyes widened in surprise and shock, and you couldn’t find it in you to ask if he meant it, so you just stared up at him without blinking. Was he being serious?

Bo smirked at the look on your face-- it was one he would never get tired of seeing, when he surprised you by telling you something you weren’t expecting and he was very good at it-- and nodded. Helping you to stand, he patted your butt to get you moving when you just stood there for another moment, still staring at him. He was sure you were expecting a trick but if you didn’t get a move on Kuroo was going to leave and make things a lot harder.

Walking as quietly as you could and avoiding that one creaky spot by the corner of the coffee table, you came up behind Kuroo, who was just hovering in the middle of the archway. He jumped when your hand came to rest on his back, but followed your persistent tugging for him to turn around. He was several inches taller than you, which made it a bit awkward, but when he was finally facing you you looped your arms around his neck and stared up at him.

He took in your wide, nervous eyes and the way your shoulders rose and fell far too fast, then looked over your head at Bokuto. He was splayed out and relaxed on the couch watching with a smirk on his face. Kuroo would swear there was lust in those golden eyes, like he was waiting for them to put on a show.

The smirk issued a challenge and posed a question, slowly sliding down to you. Kuroo set his hands on your hips and Bokuto nodded, eyes widening the slightest bit and Kuroo groaned low in his throat. The hell was he thinking? Was he actually offering you? For that matter, were you going along with it?

When he looked down to you, his breath was literally knocked out of him at the open, hopeful look in your eyes. You were so achingly beautiful to him, need and desire shimmering in the depths of that hope. He caved with little resistance, slotting his lips against yours sloppily. You whined, standing on your toes, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. It was as soft as you had always imagined, though your fingers did get tangled in the strands. He tasted soft and sweet, his tongue gliding against yours as if savoring every second of the kiss. He was a lot gentler than you expected of him, pulling you flush against his body as his mouth moved against yours.

“Holy shit,” Bokuto whispered, drawing you both from the moment. When Kuroo pulled away to look at him, there was definitely arousal pooling in his eyes, and he shifted in his seat. Catching Kuroo looking at him, a smug grin flitted across his face, then he looked at you.

You were still staring up at Kuroo with half-lidded eyes, lips parted and a need for more written clearly on your face. Before he could give in to your begging, Bokuto called for you.

It took you a moment to register, then you were pulling away to go to Bo, stumbling a little on your way and they were both concerned until he took your hand in his. His pretty face had finally lightened up into something you were used to, open and expressive and needy. His rough hands caressed the outside of your thighs, making you squirm with desire. You needed more.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Bokuto asked, catching Kuroo’s eye behind you. Inclining his head in invitation, he watched Kuroo shake his head in confusion. It made him feel a bit bad-- he had never seen Kuroo like this before, so torn up over something, but he was equally amused. He just loved surprising people. To you, he asked, “You need something?”

You flushed red from the tips of your ears all the way down to your chest, twisting the hem of your shirt in your fingers, and shook your head.

“No? Nothing’s wrong?” Bokuto teased, easing your fingers up from their death grip. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the tip of each finger. You were biting your lip and looking to the side, tension resting in your shoulders. When he had told you to go kiss Kuroo, the look on your face and in your eyes had been adorable, the sight of the two of you stirring something he hadn’t expected.

It had never been in his interests to have more than one partner, especially because relationships weren’t high on his list of priorities in the first place. You had come into his life like a bright flash of sunlight through the gap in a curtain, blinding him. There had been no hesitation in his pursuit of you, though it wasn’t much of a chase since you had agreed to a date right off the bat. It had been easy with you, for the most part, because he had never lied to you about how important volleyball was to him. After a few months, it became a rhythm to meet up after practice whenever you could, and you made it a point to be there for his games. Sometimes he felt guilty, that he was neglecting you, but whenever he brought it up you would sit him down and promise him you understood.

He was undoubtedly grateful for your support, no matter how fanatical he got about his passion, and it was one of the reasons he didn’t say anything about it when you brought up dating people besides himself. The way you explained it made sense to him-- but your needs were more complex than his, he had to admit. He felt no burden* from your need for attention, but if you needed more than he could give you, he would let you go. 

But you stuck around, and that was more than he could have hoped for given how busy he was. It seemed he might have the solution now, if you and Kuroo wanted it.

“Kotaro, what is all this about?” Kuroo asked, cutting into Bokuto’s pondering. First name use, huh? He was catching on. 

Bokuto smiled at him, happy and light and manipulative, causing Kuroo to sigh. If he was right, then he was going to get his number one wish of the last six months. A part of him was almost scared to find out what would come of it, but the other, louder part of him hardened in his slacks.

Bokuto snickered and urged you to turn around, preening when you did so willingly. Your head was still swimming with trepidation, your heart racing with hope and exhilaration. Kuroo seemed to have a better grasp of whatever Bokuto was getting at than you did, but it wasn’t hard to gather how far he was planning to let this go. His hands were warm on your thighs, sliding up, up, up, underneath his jersey that hung two times too large on your body.

Kuroo gulped, you could see his Adam’s apple bob in his slender throat as inch after inch of bare skin was revealed, and he took it all in with a hungry stare. He wasn’t even pretending he wasn’t interested, not now that Bokuto had all but spoken his consent.

You trusted him enough in that, and you had no interest in stopping him either.

There was an audible intake of breath from Kuroo when you took over pulling the shirt over your head. It hit the floor with a whisper of sound, easily obscured by the low groan emanating from Kuroo.

How many times had he pictured you like this, naked and so fucking willing for him, only to be flooded with shame immediately afterwards? Looking down at him as you rode him or up at him as you sucked his cock, lips stretched around him-- in any scenario you were fucked out and drooling, begging him for more.

There was no shame this time as he stared at you while Bokuto peeked over your shoulder wearing a smug expression that would have pissed Kuroo off in another situation. As it was, Kuroo was just itching to run his fingers all over your supple skin, leaving marks that would remind you of him come the morning. When Bokuto’s fingers started to toy with the waistband of the too short shorts you still wore, he took a step forward, but Bokuto stilled and shook his head.

“Ah, ah, not yet, Tetsu,” he said, and began to slide the fabric down. Your panties peeled away and both men could see the wetness on your folds before you began to rub your thighs together, but Bokuto wasn’t having that. “I want you to watch for a bit.”

He yanked you down into his lap, eliciting a panicked squeak, falling into his chest with your legs spread on either side of his. The silky fabric of his shorts did nothing to hide the erection grinding against your ass and you gasped.

Kuroo relaxed, trying to appear nonchalant as he leaned against the wall, but his eyes were sharp and focused on the way Bokuto’s fingers skimmed up your inner thighs all the way to your core, spreading your slick lips. “Since when are you such a tease, Ko?”

Bokuto gave his signature smirk, just one side of his mouth turning up as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “I’ve learned some things, Tetsu. Enjoying the view?” You squirmed with embarrassment in his hold, head turned to the side but it did nothing to hide the red flush on your cheeks. You were leaking all over his shorts as his thumb found your clit, swiping over it and you mewled. His other hand came up to cup one lush tit, tweaking your pretty nipple, and you clenched around nothing.

Kuroo could see the way your hole twitched, spread as it was by Bokuto’s fingers, slick dripping down the curve of your ass. He had to fight to resist the urge to palm himself, just to relieve something, and he swallowed thickly. Yes, yes he damn well was enjoying the view, and when one of Bokuto’s thick fingers slid into you, he moaned with need.

You jerked in his hold, eyes locked on Kuroo, who looked like he was going to collapse at any moment. His eyes were bright with arousal, the tent in his pants obvious though he tried to appear calm. It looked painful, but with Bokuto’s finger curling inside you while his thumb toyed with your clit, you weren’t in any position to help.

“Feel good, princess? Want another one?” Bokuto asked, snickering when you nodded mutely. The slick noises your hole was making filled the room, your head on the verge of falling back onto his shoulder, hips rocking ever so with his thrusts. When another finger was added you moaned, eyes fluttering closed and legs trying to squeeze closed around his. His lips blazed a trail up the side of your neck to underneath your jaw, teeth nipping sharply as he listened to you. “Tetsu, how does she look?”

“Breathtaking.”

The word tumbled out without thought, unable to look away from you. Though his cheeks flushed he absolutely meant it and he watched your head snap up to look at him with wide eyes. He was almost afraid he was dreaming, watching Bokuto pump his fingers in and out of you while you squirmed in his lap. Your eyes were glazed and needy, lips parted in a silent ‘o’ when he curled them up just right, your nails digging into his forearm in a white-knuckle grip. 

You whined when Bokuto pulled his fingers out of you, covered in your slick, lifting them to your lips. Bokuto perked up when Kuroo moaned, pinning him with an amused stare while your lips wrapped around them, lapping and sucking the taste of yourself.

“Want him to taste you, pretty girl?” he asked, loud enough that Kuroo could hear just to watch him perk up. There was no hesitation when you nodded, reaching out to him and he went in an instant, falling to his knees before you.

He grabbed you by the knees and pulled you down further, slinging your knees over his shoulder as he dove in. His tongue lapped at your outer lips to tease, your thighs tightening around his head every time he came close to your clit only to miss. When he looked up, your head was back on Bokuto’s shoulder, tits being fondled by your partner as he watched Kuroo eat you. 

He groaned, drinking in the taste of you and when one finger teased your entrance, you spasmed, jerking your hips up seeking more.

“Tetsu, please,” you whined, reaching one hand up into Bo’s hair while tangling the fingers of your other in Kuroo’s, urging him forward, and who was he to deny you when you asked oh so nicely?

Wrapping his lips around your neglected clit, he sunk in, moaning at just how fucking wet you were. You parted so easily for him that he dipped a second in and you squeezed his head between your thighs, moaning his name again.

“Fuck,” Bo whispered, voice hoarse as he watched Kuroo eat you out. He let go of your breasts to grip beneath your knees, holding you open and Kuroo glanced up, catching the way Bokuto stared with undisguised desire. “Why did we not do this sooner?”

Pulling back, he let loose a smug grin, his thumb replacing his lips around your clit. “Didn’t take you for a voyeur, Ko,” he said, thrusting his fingers up and grazing the soft spot inside you. 

“I wasn’t until just now,” he muttered, holding your trembling legs tighter. Your fingers were tugging at his hair harder, so he knew you were close, your juices leaking all over Kuroo’s hand and filling his ears with slick noises.

You gasped, feeling the coil tighten, ready to break and you let them know, eyes fluttering shut as you rocked your hips into his fingers. “Please, Tetsu, please, I wanna cum--”

“Then cum, pretty girl,” he growled, circling your clit harder. He could feel you fluttering around them, squeezing tight and your lips parted, a moan ripping out of you as heat washed through you, legs fighting against Bokuto’s hold. Kuroo kept it up as you cried out, riding you through it until you relaxed into Bo’s chest, panting. “Fuck, I knew you’d cum so pretty, kitten,” he rasped, pulling his fingers from you. 

Before he could lick your essence off of them, Bo grabbed his hand, drawing it slowly towards his mouth. Their eyes locked and you watched as Bo hesitated for a split second before drawing them between his lips, lapping at the pads of his fingers and further.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo whispered, eyes wide at the sight of his best friend swallowing his fingers. The look in his eyes made his cock twitch with want, imagining them wrapped around his thick shaft, lapping and sucking. Unable to handle it, he ripped his fingers away, carding them through his hair as he asked, “Can I-- Can I kiss you, Ko?”

Bokuto hummed, eyes thoughtful as he cupped his chin. Kuroo could tell he was teasing and quirked a brow at this new side to his friend.

“I’ve never kissed a dude before. Never really wanted to either,” Bokuto admitted, though he didn’t look or sound ashamed. In fact, he sounded curious, and Kuroo smirked.

“Not much different than kissing _____, though you might like it more,” he teased, guiding Bo’s head to hover just beneath his lips, caging you between the two of them. He waited, letting him make the decision and with his usual tenacity, he dove right in, sweeping his tongue across the seam of Kuroo’s lips. They parted and he was overwhelmed by the aftertaste of energy drinks and cherry chapstick. He had always imagined kissing Bo would be an experience, especially with how many times he had watched him makeout with you, but it was entirely different now. Kissing Bo felt like he was drowning in him, leaning in for more even though he wasn’t holding anything back.

When they pulled apart, Kuroo was panting, pupils blown wide. He followed after Bo, wanting more, but was stopped by a hand on his cheek. 

“I didn’t know you were so needy,” Bokuto said, and it was impossible to ignore the deep timbre giving away how affected he was. “I say we continue this in the bedroom, hm?” He looked down at you, and you nodded, still looking a little fuzzy from watching them kiss. “Good, let’s go.”

Kuroo helped you to your feet, drinking in the sight of you proudly naked, while Bo took your other hand. He pulled off his shirt as soon as your bedroom door was shut behind Kuroo, who almost choked at the sight. Bo was built like a Greek god, all bulky muscle; he couldn’t even think about moving without flexing. 

He felt fingers on the hem of his own shirt and looked down to find you tugging at it, and he let you pull it up and over his head, stooping down just so you could. Bokuto had already kicked his shorts off towards the laundry basket, missing by a mile while you undid the button of his pants. His cock throbbed when your fingers grazed over it as you pulled them and his boxers down, falling to your knees while they pooled at his ankles. 

A loud moan ripped from him when your hand gripped his base with your soft hand, head thumping back into the door. You started with light touches, nuzzling and kissing his cock like you were worshipping it and, when his eyes finally opened again, he found Bo staring, licking his lips. His hand was around his own cock, pumping slowly as he watched you take Kuroo into your mouth at last, and then he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

His fingers tangled in your hair, just holding it back as you bobbed up and down his length, tongue tracing the vein and swirling around the head, not really giving him enough to cum but damn if it didn’t feel good. When he looked down at you again finally, he found you staring up at him, eyes bright and teary, and then Bo’s hands were on your cheeks, pulling you off of him.

“‘M startin’ to feel a little jealous, babe,” he whined, though Kuroo could detect no hint of it in his voice. If anything, he sounded antsy as he pulled you to your feet and kissed you, delving his tongue between your lips. Backing you into Kuroo, he hooked his arms underneath your knees and Kuroo took the hint, helping him lift you up so that your legs were spread wide, Bo’s length sliding against your wet slit. You weighed nothing to him and he often liked to use his strength to trap you, bouncing you on his cock at his whim. This time was no different, your whines music to their ears as he prodded at your slick hole.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” he grunted as he filled you, splitting you around his thick head. You were so tight, sucking him in and mewling in his ear for more, tugging at his hair as he seated himself fully inside of you. Kuroo watched the whole thing with a slack jaw, touching his cock just to ease the ache of watching you beg for Bokuto’s cock. “Think you could take both of us, baby?”

The noise of agreement you made went straight to Kuroo’s cock, his hand suddenly not enough for him. When you turned to look at him, yanked your head back by the hair and slammed his lips against yours. Breathless, he asked, “Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can wait--”

You cut him with a whiny plea against his lips. “Yes, yes, Tetsu, I want you both to fuck me.”

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this outcome, but as your cunt stretched around him, whining and clawing at Bokuto’s shoulders as you let him in too, it was his new favorite fantasy.

“Fuck,” he groaned when his hips met yours. You were crying, pussy fluttering around them at the fantastic stretch, and he stilled inside to let you get used to the feeling. You were limp between them, your head resting on Kuroo’s shoulder while they held you up. “So tight, princess, shit.”

You knew he had a filthy mouth, but hearing him now while he praised you made you whine, and Bokuto snickered.

“She just loves being told how good she feels, how pretty she is when she’s being fucked. She’ll do anything if you do, won’t you, baby?” he said. His hips began to rock, testing if you were ready, and your mouth opened in a silent cry when the crown of his cock ground past that sweet spot inside you. He couldn’t have missed it if he tried, and when he pushed back in, Kuroo pulled out.

They set up a steady rhythm, pounding into you so you were never empty, sometimes pushing back in at the same time just to hear you cry out. You could only let them use you as they wanted, nails perpetually digging into Bokuto’s broad shoulders and a litany of cries and moans fleeing your lips.

The heat was building up in your stomach and every time Bo’s hips met yours, he ground into your clit, forcing his cock just a little bit further. His fingers had a death grip on your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh like Kuroo was doing to your tits, plucking and pulling your hard nipples as he whispered how good you felt into your ear.

“Ko, please-- Tetsu, I’m gonna--” you cried, tightening your thighs around Bokuto’s hips but you only spurred them on further, their hips slamming into yours at a faster pace. Your back locked, forcing your tits out and Bokuto’s eyes locked on the way they bounced, licking his lips.

“Come on,” he grunted, using some of his brute strength to make you bounce, your breasts jiggling with each hard thrust. When Kuroo’s hand slid down your ribs and over your stomach, your breathing hitched, the coil wound so tight it was painful. It snapped when his fingers grazed your clit at the same time they buried inside you.

You clapped your hand over your mouth to hold in the scream, hips jerking and twitching in their hold as Kuroo continued to assault your clit. He pulled out of you, leaving his cock achingly hard but it was worth it to see you ravaged by Bokuto’s insane pace when he set your back to the wall, your toes curled as he pounded into your overstimulated pussy. You were crying again, wailing his name until he stilled inside you with a grunt, massive frame curled down over yours as he spilled inside your cunt.

Panting, he pulled back to see Kuroo working his hand up and down his shaft, using your slick as lube with his lip pulled between his teeth as he watched you.

“Think you can take care of him still, baby?” Bokuto asked, setting you on your feet. 

You nodded, falling to your knees-- your legs weren’t going to hold you up anyway-- and beckoned Kuroo over to you. He stumbled in his haste to get to you, resting his arms against the wall above your head as you swallowed his cock in one fluid motion.

You were making the most obscene noises as you choked, working him down into your throat as fast as you could without hurting yourself, and Kuroo watched it all with wide, needy eyes. The sight of your nose burying in his curls was what did it, and he choked out a curse as he came down your throat. You swallowed around him and he thought he might lose his mind, gathering your hair up to hold you down until he was spent.

Helping you to your feet, the three of you stood there for several moments gathering your breath, staring at each other with amused wonder.

“Well, that was fun,” Bokuto said, the first to recover. He looked far too self-satisfied for Kuroo’s liking.

You snorted in amusement, limping over to your drawer to pull out another shirt, since the one you had been wearing was still out in the living room. You were in desperate need of a shower and sleep, and you had to hurry before Bo got a second wind.

“So what now?” Kuroo asked, watching you with a raised brow. There was smug pride in his smirk and it must have shown because you turned to glare at him.

“Dunno, what do you want?” Bokuto asked, sliding his boxers back on. He fully intended to join you in the shower, so he fetched a fresh pair from his own drawer, giving you a cheeky grin when you made a face. “If you want a relationship, I’m down.”

They both looked to you then, and you rolled your eyes. “I’ve liked Kuroo for ages, so you don’t even have to ask me.”

“Then it’s settled,” Bokuto said, clapping his hands. “Besides, I like the idea of her not being lonely, since I’m so busy with volleyball and all. And I know I can trust the two of you together.”

He said it with such confidence that both of you were filled with warm affection and happiness, knowing that he believed you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. And you wouldn’t-- you both loved him too much.

“Alright, shower and then bed. I’m exhausted,” you said, punctuating it with yawn. You stretched your arms over your head and heard an intake of air and, when you opened your eyes, you found them both wearing predatory expressions. “No, no no no. I am sore and tired and--”

“Awe, just one more,” Bokuto said, voice cajoling, and Kuroo nodded in agreement, following Bo as he crowded you against the dresser.

“I have class in the morning, I won’t be able to walk,” you whined, even as you let them pull your shirt back off. It hit the floor and was promptly forgotten as fingers danced up your thighs and over your ribs, more prodding your already abused hole still dripping cum. 

Kuroo snickered, his fingers sliding into your pussy again and you shuddered against him, still sensitive. “Ko can carry you, it’ll be fine*.”

“Oh fuck me,” you whined when Bo’s lips latched onto your nipple, and you tugged at his hair in a futile gesture. You were already gone and everyone knew it.

“That’s the plan, princess.”

⇥  masterlist

⇥  taglist: @sluttony​, @visaintes​, @yunhosblackgf​, @super-noya​, @byebyes-world​, @newfriendjen​

[suddencolds]

different anon here but omg im so happy you made a kaeya/albedo drabble.. could you write up a pt 2 where kaeya catches his cold? doesnt have to be long, anything would do if youd be so kind

😭 anon... please, have mercy. Reversed roles are my absolute ~weakness~, so just this once, I am here to deliver a fic that I didn’t spend like 300 years writing. (Thanks for the excuse to write these two!!)

[part 1] 

—

A few days pass before he sees Kaeya again.

Albedo is only at the headquarters to ask Lisa if she has any books on the medicinal uses of Liyue specialties. The meeting is a coincidence, all things considered. Kaeya is leading a group of Knights—new recruits, Albedo thinks, because he’s pretty sure those are new faces—back into the main hall.

“Captain,” one of the recruits is saying. “I’m sorry about today. I’ll do better next time.”

“Struggling with training?” Kaeya asks. “I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“I wasn’t. I just… I should have been able to dodge. Back up in Starfell Valley, when that hilichurl fired. It wasn’t hidden or anything, but I didn’t notice.”

Kaeya shakes his head. “It’s a lot to think about, right? That’s one of the tricky things about fighting with a close-range weapon. It’s not a bad thing to pay attention to whomever you’re clashing swords with. Just don’t forget to keep an eye out for enemies that are further out.”

“Got it,” the recruit says, solemn.

“Your swordsmanship has improved, though.” Kaeya adds, “I can tell you practiced. The new sword suits you.”

The recruit brightens visibly. “Thanks a lot, Captain.”

It’s not surprising, really—Kaeya has a strange talent for saying the right thing at the right time. He’s patient, too, and good at strategizing; all things considered, Albedo can’t think of someone more qualified to be training the Knights.

But Albedo isn’t here to watch. It just looks like their group is about to adjourn, and he figures he should really thank Kaeya for his help a few days ago—Kaeya is a fast learner, and an even better conversation partner. Had it not been for him, Albedo knows he would’ve been up on Dragonspine for much longer.

Currently, Kaeya is turning to address the entire group. He still hasn’t noticed Albedo’s presence, it seems.

“Great work today,” He says, then launches into a speech about strategy. It’s not a notable incident—or, it shouldn’t be—except the more he talks, the more Albedo can tell how tired he is. It’s subtle. It’s Kaeya—of course it’s subtle. But his posture looks deceptively casual—really, it looks like it’s taking all of his energy to keep himself presentable—and mid-speech, he’s actually stifling a yawn. His voice sounds slightly off, too, perhaps from overuse.

They’re all busy, Albedo knows. But he feels guilty nonetheless. He knows it had been Kaeya’s decision to help him, but still—perhaps it hadn’t been the best choice, seeing how much he still has to do.

“Captain Kaeya,” one of the other recruits interjects, after Kaeya finishes his speech. Most of the other Knights have already started to leave. “If you are free later, could I stay late to train with you today?”

And Kaeya—

—Kaeya, for some reason, hesitates. He shuts his eyes for just a second, as if he’s at war with himself, before he opens them again. This time, his smile is a little less effortless, a little more strained. “Of course. I need to get some paperwork filled out first, but I’ll meet you after.”

“Alright, thanks! I’ll wait for you outside?”

“Sure. I won’t be long.”

The recruit—oblivious to the fact that something’s wrong—turns to head towards the exit. Kaeya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed. He really looks exhausted.

Albedo wants to call out to him. He’ll say thanks, and then he’ll get out of Kaeya’s way. But then Kaeya starts off towards Jean’s office—to pick up paperwork, presumably—and stops halfway down the hall, tensing, one hand hovering over his face—

“hiiH… hiiH’ESSCH’ew!”

It sounds… rough, and tired, as if he’s been doing that all day. He sniffles, shivering, and continues walking, and Albedo knows.

He feels bad immediately. Kaeya had been kind enough to help out—of course he had, he’s selfless like that—even though he must have been busy. Meanwhile, Albedo hadn’t thought to tell him to sit further away, hadn’t been careful enough about not touching what he’d touched, hadn’t stepped away when Kaeya had insisted on walking back with him, hadn’t protested when Kaeya had lent him his scarf for the walk back through Dragonspine’s freezing weather…

...All things considered, this is most certainly Albedo’s fault.

—

“I got it, Jean,” Kaeya says, taking the pile of paperwork from her desk.

“Take it easy,” she says. “You should go straight home after this.”

Kaeya smiles tiredly at her. “Oh? I thought you didn’t want me slacking off. I can do more today, really.”

Jean rolls her eyes. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing. Please, for the love of Barbatos, get some rest.”

Kaeya can’t say he feels very differently than Jean says he looks. Still, even if Jean won’t ask him to stick around, the new recruits will—he likes them, but they’re still new to combat, which makes things harder on him. In between scouting domains, looking out for the younger knights, and trying to cover for the mistakes they make, perhaps he’s pushed himself just a bit.

“It’s just a cold,” he says, turning as far away from her as possible to cough into his elbow. “No one’s ever taken off work for a cold.”

“For now it is,” Jean says. “I don’t want it to turn into something worse because you won’t rest.”

“It won’t. It’s just paperwork, right? I could do that in my sleep.” And one-on-one training with a recruit. And after that, another meeting with the Knights, and a domain East of here to scout out on his own, but Jean can find out about that later when she’s reading his reports.

It’s very unfortunate that he has to sneeze.

He takes another step away from her, lifting his hand to cover.

“hiIH’EESCH’-ew!” he winces. The sneeze is loud, and it sounds almost as miserable as he feels, which means it feels far too transparent. “Hiih… hIIH… snf… hiiih’IiDDZScsh’ew! hIIIH’EZSCHh’-iu! ugh… snf…”

“Bless you,” Jean says, sighing as she passes him the tissue box on her desk. He takes a generous handful of them and before handing it back. “You sound awful.”

Kaeya laughs, pocketing the tissues. “You never fail to flatter me, Acting Grandmaster.”

“Forgive me for being worried,” Jean says flatly. “At least tell me you’ll take care of yourself.” “Of course. When do I not?”

She gives him a significant look, which is fair.

He takes the chance to leave her office. His head hurts, more than it would if he’d just had a bit too much to drink, and it’s the kind of headache that he knows is going to get much, much worse if he doesn’t take it easy. Maybe if he rushes, he can get the paperwork done before then.

The recruit he’d spoken to is waiting for him outside, he recalls. He rubs his nose, shivering, and heads for the door.

Someone is waiting for him, but it’s not the person he expects.

Kaeya musters the energy to smile. “Albedo! Did you need something?” He probably shouldn’t be taking on additional responsibilities after Jean’s already told him to take him easy, but then again, this is Albedo—whatever he needs, it must be  worth staying late for.

“I just happened to be stopping by,” Albedo starts. “I, err, wanted to ask Lisa about my research.”

“I take it that you didn’t find what you needed?”

“I did.” “Is that so?” Kaeya says, faltering—if that’s the case, he’s not sure why Albedo is still here. “Were you waiting for me, then?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, except Albedo hesitates, and Kaeya feels bad for suggesting it.

“Actually, I was,” Albedo says, which is a surprise.

Kaeya’s breath has gone unsteady again, and he rubs his nose, sniffling. Albedo, who seems not to have noticed, keeps talking.

“I wanted to tell you—”

Kaeya doesn’t want to interrupt, but colds tend to make his sneezes so jarringly unavoidable. He turns away, lifting up a hand to shield his face. “Hiiih… hiih’EESCHh’ew!” He gasps, and with a muffled sniffle, presses his hand closer to his face. “HIIH… hiiIH’IIZSCHH-uu! hIIIH’NGKT-Sshew! snf…!”

—His shoulders untense as he finally lowers his hand, fishing through his pocket for tissues. How embarrassing, he thinks, blowing his nose as softly as he can. He doesn’t exactly want to look over to Albedo to see the expression on his face—disgust, probably, or worse, pity—

“I’m sorry,” Albedo says instead.

Kaeya’s glance snaps upwards in surprise. “What?” “I was hoping you wouldn’t catch this,” he frowns, looking away. “I wasn’t careful enough. I did not intend for you to feel miserable because of me.”

What is that supposed to mean? “This isn’t because of you.”

“Captain,” Albedo starts, completely serious. “Whose cold do you think you have?”

Kaeya blinks. It’s true—he’s probably caught this from Albedo, given that he can’t think of anyone else who’s been sick lately—but that doesn’t mean that Albedo should feel guilty over it. “Colds spread. It happens, it’s not your fault.”

“I should have been more careful,” Albedo shakes his head dejectedly. “Or perhaps I should not have accepted your help at all when you offered to stay. I knew you must have had a lot of work. It was selfish of me.”

“I told you, I wanted to help,” Kaeya insists.

Albedo sighs. “You are selfless to the extent that it is detrimental sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I sent the recruit home, by the way. Really, you couldn’t have told him to wait a couple days?”

“He asked for my help.” Kaeya holds a hand up, veering away again. “I wasn’t going to deny him just because of… a… hiIH… c-cold… HIIih’EESSCHh’ew! HIIIH’GKTt!-shew!” His head throbs in protest, and he sniffles, tilting his head upwards, a fresh tissue in hand, in ticklish anticipation. “hiIIH… hiIIH’IIIZZSCH’ew!”

It takes everything in him not to slump against the wall.

“Bless you,” Albedo says. “You sound—”

“—awful?” He lowers the tissue with a laugh. “I know. Jean informed me.”

“I was going to say tired,” Albedo says, shifting forward to feel Kaeya’s forehead. His hand shifts to Kaeya’s cheek, studying him with a look of such intense concentration, Kaeya tries not to smile. “I don’t think you have a fever, but you’re warm. Allow me to walk you home?”

As enticing as the offer sounds, he shouldn’t. Everyone else is working hard—he knows if he does less work than usual, it will be Jean and Amber picking up the slack, which is the last thing he wants. “I still have lots to do.”

“It can wait until you’re well. The Knights will survive if you take a day off.” Albedo drops his hand, but he’s still looking at Kaeya with the same intensity. “I will talk to Jean, if it’s an issue.”

“Please don’t talk to Jean,” Kaeya says sheepishly. He’s sure she wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to find out about his plans to stay and work late.

Albedo raises an eyebrow. “Will you listen to me, then?”

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, after all—he can head home, sleep this headache away, and come back in the evening. “Well,” he starts. “If… hiIIH… hiiIH’ESSCH’ew! snf-! If you insist…”

“I do.”

“...I guess I could head home early.”

It’s worth it, for the way Albedo smiles softly in response. He looks... relieved, Kaeya realizes, which is strange, too—he hadn’t expected Albedo to be so worried about him.

Kaeya starts off in the direction of his house. It’s not a long walk from the headquarters—certainly closer than the manor was, back when he’d lived there. Admittedly, it’s lonelier sometimes, living on his own.

Unexpectedly, Albedo follows him.

“You’re really walking me back,” Kaeya says, slightly disbelieving.

“Yes,” Albedo says. “Would you prefer if I didn’t?”

“It’s nice.” Kaeya sniffles, stifling a cough into a raised hand. “I hope you’re not just doing this because you feel bad about this.”

Albedo hums. “I’m not. I am quite free this afternoon, thanks to your help. I do feel bad, though.”

“Doing alchemy with you was the most exciting part of my week,” Kaeya says honestly, flashing him a grin. “I’d say it was worth catching a cold over.”

Albedo stares back at him. Then he smiles back, so brightly that Kaeya feels warmer, just looking at him. “You could come visit more often, then. I enjoy having company if it’s you.”

[brunos-beloved]

Heyyy!

Before I request, I would really like to say that I absolutely love your writing so far. Looking forward to more of your work. ♡

I was wondering if I could request a scenario with Abbacchio and his crush on a mission together, and they are close to being spotted by their enemy, so one of them decides to pull the other into a make-out session to avoid being caught, the enemy assuming their just a rowdy couple and leaves the two alone.

I hope this is alright! Wasn’t quite sure what you were comfortable with writing. Apologies if I over-stepped any boundaries!

cover: abbacchio leone x reader

summary: you get yourself spotted and have to come up with a convincing cover.

word count: 1.7k

—✧—

You totally blew it. 

You utterly, and totally, blew it.

That instinct of yours had sworn he’d round the corner with his partner, but the bastard you were tailing with Abbacchio had turned around to double-check, making direct eye-contact with you no less. He’d just caught the sliver of you peeking from around the wall your body was pressed to. An action that made you flip away as your blood run cold in shock. The tall, lean man crouched beside you caught your face drop, but before painted lips, jet black from the  lighting, could part to question it, they were pulled up into an annoyed snarl by the noise. 

“Over there!” The shorter man shouted, his brawnier partner reappearing from the brick corner, “I told you someone was following us!”

You swore under your breath, practically launching your legs from the ground and into a sprint. Abbacchio followed, aura as deadly as ever, you’d really done it this time, hadn’t you? Shoes pummeled the mud and guns shots rang in the air. You were used to running by now, trying to survive in the streets of Italy, but if your clumsiness hadn’t come with speed you definitely wouldn’t have made it this far. For that you were grateful. You turned on your heels at the closest corner, yanking Abbacchio by the wrist in the pitch black. You’re sure he didn’t appreciate the handling, but he’d thank you later for it. You’d use the twists and turns of the alleyways to help you, taking the switches in direction as cover and hopefully losing the unwanted company. Your brain tried desperately to form some sort of escape plan, the two of you’d gotten most of the information you needed, you just had to mess it all up at the very end. You could feel the annoyance of your partner’s pale amber eyes burn into you, guilt filled the bottom of your stomach. You may have slipped up but you had no plan of getting the either of you shot.

You turned to him for a brief second, meeting his eyes, “I’ll fix this.” You muttered through the muddle of sounds chasing you, unsure if he could really even hear you. The determination in your face made his breath hitch, you were clumsy but always so fast to recover. For that, as a person who lacked the ability, Abbacchio truly envied you. He envied you for having the power to try after defeat so quickly, and though he’d never admit it, he admired you for it greatly.

The shouts of your pursuers bouncing around the alleyway walls made your head spin and heart race, but you could tell it’d be over soon, or at least that’s what your oh-so great instinct had told you. Your frantic swiftness carried you to the end of the shrouded alley, but you were met with the bright lights of the street you’d feared coming this way. A well-lit area was not what you had hoped to hide in. Before you could hardly process your position, the wind from cars whipping by ran across your cheeks as you flew out between the brick walls and into the blaring street. 

Abbacchio followed, letting out what sounded like half a sigh half a groan, silver hair sticking to his face. “What the hell now ragazza matta?” Your head turned looking for an out, on your left was a lively bar, and at your heels your rowdy pursuers struggling in the alley. The stretch of city was too long to run through without being spotted, it forced you to go straight ahead, leaving your backs to your enemies for far too long to be comforting. There was another alley to dip into on the other side of the street, but the traffic tonight was ruthless, and unless you planned to alert the cars of your presence too, sounding horns and brakes, and make it even more obvious, you’d rather not. As your mind frenzied for footing, you focused in on a drunk couple stumbling and squishing themselves into a cab, an idea rising to the surface. You were near a bar...with a man you‘d come with...so a fitting position with Abbacchio that would be waved off and left alone easily would be...would be... Whether your mind was completely in the gutter or that was a strike of absolute genius you truly didn’t know.

“Make out with me.” You stated bluntly, more to yourself hardly thinking. Abbacchio’s face was one of utter confusion, a brow twitching up and his dark lips parting in awe, overtaking the usual irritation that rested underneath most of his expressions.

“Pardon me?” His deep voice was like venom, challenging your statement like one would a sick joke. “Che cazzo are you talking about-” Time was of the essence, and though you weren’t usually this bold, you had to act. You squared your shoulders to the nearest a wall and grabbed handfuls of black fabric, tugging his lithe form to nearly loom over your own. You’d always found his height intimidating, but eventually getting used to his presence made him feel more mysterious and somber, something you didn’t usually find in anyone else you’d encountered, at least not to this degree.

“Trust me.” You beckoned with a face that was anything but joking, holding onto golden eyes firmly with your own. They looked haunting with the shadows cast on his face. Before Abbacchio could look away to the noise growing closer from the alley your palms steadied his head, you swallowed your pride, and you brought his pale face to yours. 

Yes, maybe you had been hoping for this certain event to occur eventually, daydreaming about it for quite some time now, but these circumstances were nearly laughable. You figured beggars couldn’t be choosers though, at least after tonight if it turned out Abbacchio wasn’t nearly as fond of you as you were him, which was your prediction, you had an excuse to finally know what it felt like to kiss the gorgeous man at least once in your life. In this moment you pondered, nearly sure his pessimism had rubbed off on you. No, you weren’t the closest personally, you weren’t one to pry, and you knew what you needed to, but with Abbacchio’s nature you figured it surely wasn’t an easy task. Yet, sometimes you wondered if there was something more between the sarcastic banter or the nights you’d shared a bottle of wine or two, passing out into his shoulder later on in the night, drowsy on the strong fumes of alcohol. Were you just someone to drink with? Or would he enjoy someone else’s company less than your own? You’d thought of these things quite often, but the fact that tonight’s mission might either make these daydreams reach fruition or have you completely rejected put a slight weight over your heart. 

To your surprise, when you brought his lush lips to your own, you weren’t shoved away or scolded. You swiped your thumb across his cheekbone, the silver hair cascading down that brushed your knuckles was soft, the encouragement waking him from his hesitance. The action felt relieving with a twinge of selfishness for him. Violet lips danced on your own as he slowly let himself ease his weight closer to the wall, soon enough your were feverish and pressed together like rowdy teenagers. Not unlike you, he’d thought of treating you this way before, often actually. Despite his self-deprecating tendencies, even Abbacchio realized this was no opportunity to be dismissed, even for someone he despised as much as himself. You pulled apart but not too far, and surprisingly careful hands brushed your hips, amber eyes in a haze. You took it as a queue to latch your legs around his waist, pulling Abbacchio even closer. You brought him back into you with a needy hand on the back of his neck, the other still softly gliding against his cheek. If your heart hadn’t been beating out of your chest before, your plan was about to be proven, hasty footsteps hammering down the street somewhere nearby, yet the squeezing hands beneath your thighs drove your attention elsewhere.

When the pattering feet had finally retreated out of earshot, dashing across the busy street according to the horns you’d heard blaring and swore to avoid, the both of you pulled away, breathless and panting. Abbacchio wasn’t an easy individual to read, yet you swore he seemed torn between continuing and setting you down. Unfortunately, he willed himself to do the latter. After an awkward pause, you broke the silence. 

“We should head back to Bucciarati.” You forced out, trying your best not to sound at all flustered. Abbacchio let out a delayed sound of agreement. 

The walk back to Libeccio was silent so far, you were nearly halfway back and not a word. Maybe it hadn’t been your place after all. You went to apologize, but thanked him for trusting you. Abbacchio’s golden eyes cut into you like daggers, as they usually did when he was irritated, but you couldn’t tell if it was due to what you’d done or what you’d said. 

“Whatever, I don’t give una merda, it was just a distraction.” The frown potent in his face made your tired eyes droop. Had you really screwed up again today? 

“Abbacchio, I’m so-”

“Shut it.” The words that cut you off hurt, but when you looked up their meaning was flipped entirely. Before it was jerked away to the street, you’d caught his expression, flustered with the faintest blush. Even though it wasn’t an exact answer to your worries, it brought a grin onto your face.

“Abbacchio-” You called out, his gaze turning back to you. Before he could interrupt with a snark retort you made a proposition, heart once again hopeful. “let’s talk about it tonight,” you stated bluntly like you had your plan by the bar earlier, spitting the words out before you could stop yourself out of worry. “over a drink?“ Surprise softened his porcelain face for second time today, his tight expression falling. Abbacchio didn’t answer, leaving you with a ‘tch’ and the slight smirk that climbed onto his lips before it was gone as fast as it came. 

But for you, that was answer enough.

—✧—

this took me a lil while, abbacchio’s hard to write for me 0.o but i hope you enjoy this :)

[youngbloodlisk]

Candy // Choi Chanhee

- not proofread just because i'm lazy i'm sorry

- sub chanhee + dom female

- mommy kink

- edging

- manhandling

- aggressive

- handjob

- riding

- pegging

- degradation

- a little praise

- a little embarrassment kink

- slight possessiveness

- stoplight color system

- orgasm denial

- fake sympathy

- dacryphilia (crying kink)

- oral (male rec)

- fingering

i threatened to tag @denehbola in this and i am a woman of my word 😎

He arrived home exhausted.

He didn't even remember to take off his shoes before he practically fell over onto the couch.

I asked him about the concert while I took his shoes off for him and put them by the door.

Three encore stages, he said.

Then a party backstage for some of the staffs' birthdays.

Then Changmin wanted to go over choreography for a special gift they've been preparing for deobis' anniversary.

He said he's never been so tired in his life.

I told him to sit back and relax: let me take care of him.

I brought him a bottle of ice cold water and a satisfying plate of food.

We turned on a movie and I massaged him in every place where he groaned that it was sore.

He took his time with his food, but drank three bottles of water before the movie was over.

I told him to follow me to the bathroom so I could give him a bath. As shy as he was, he was also too sore and tired to take his clothes off efficiently, so he let me undress him with a gentle, warm touch.

He sat in the white tub, water surrounding him and soapy bubbles floating around the edges.

I told him when to close his eyes and brace for water or soap, just like an adult might bathe a small child.

He smiled the whole time I washed his pink hair, clearly enjoying the scalp massage that came along with lathering his shampoo.

Once he was clean, he wrapped up in a navy blue robe and sat on the bed, telling me what clothes to take out of his pajama drawer and which brand of underwear he wanted (considering differences in style and texture).

He decided to take it on himself to get dressed for bed and brush his teeth.

I continued a soft, but firm, massage while he brushed his teeth.

When he finished, we laid down in the bed and he snuggled into me.

He didn't know if he could sleep yet, he said.

He was exhausted, yet deep down he was still on a bit of a performance high. He hadn't fully relaxed yet.

That's how we ended up here.

Chanhee's clothes pooled on the floor by the bed, myself still fully clothed.

One of my hands lightly wrapped around his cock, moving at a perfect pace, the other hand rubbing his torso.

What better to calm him down than a slow, gentle handjob? Or so I thought.

I notice his face scrunching, and the way he's pressing his lips together.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong, baby?"

"N-No, no... not at all... I just... I-I really want-..."

He gets embarrassed and covers his face with his hands, pushing his legs together (which, in turn, makes me lose my grip on him) and bringing his knees up.

"Look at me." I say in a gentle voice.

"I can't." His voice is muffled through his hands, until I grab his wrists and pull his hands away.

"Look at me, Chanhee. Talk to me. What do you want?"

"I want... I want mom- mommy-... I-" His eyes begin to well up with tears, which often happens when he's embarrassed or feels guilty.

"Hey..." I use the hem of my shirt to wipe the salty tears away from his face. "There's no need to cry, darling. Do you want mommy to make you feel good? Be rougher with her babyboy?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Please, mommy." He says quickly, relieved that he doesn't have to say it himself, yet still embarrassed to be asking for it. "I'm so s-sorry. Your... your hand just f-felt so good. I want mommy to... to do m-more to me." His voice is shaky and barely audible. Unless he's already really in the moment, he hates asking me to do anything. He feels as if he's being selfish and greedy.

Yet, his dick begins to turn red and the tip gets shinier by the second from the embarrassment.

"You know your body better than I do, and I know you're still a bit sore. So, do you remember the safe words?"

"Yellow to slow down, red to stop."

"What about the safe actions?"

"Either snap repeatedly or tap on you repeatedly."

"That's my good boy." His cheeks flush red at the comment as I move to sit up against the headboard. "Lay across my lap, ass up."

"Wait, what?" He's clearly surprised with the way I'm choosing to start this.

"Do you wanna be a good boy tonight?"

"Oh- I do- I- Yes."

"Yes, who?"

"Y-Yes, mommy."

"Then lay across my lap. Ass up. Don't make me ask a third time."

"Yes, mommy." He mumbles in a slurry mess and crawls to me, positioning himself perfectly across my lap.

I run my hand across his pretty ass and grab at it, surely making him think I'm about to spank him, before pulling his legs apart and running a finger slowly across his hole.

Chanhee squirms just a bit at the touch.

I reach down between his legs and wrap my hand around his hard dick. My grip is much firmer and stronger than before and my pace is much slower.

He tries to hold back his reactions as much as possible, which only makes it more satisfying when he blurts out a sweet, desperate...

"More. M-more, please."

I take my hand off entirely, except for the fingers tracing his dripping tip.

Chanhee let's out a desperate whine and pushes his hips back. I wrap my hand entirely around his tip. I use my other hand to roughly grab his hair and tug on it, pulling his head back just enough so I can lean over and look him in the eyes.

"The whines we like, but you know that right now your body is mine to control. Yes?"

"Yes, m-mmmommy. I'm ssso sorry, I'll be a g...good boy. I promise..." He chokes out between pretty moans as I begin progressively stroking his cock faster. "I'm... I'm getting clo-close."

"I can tell, baby. Your cock talks." My comment about the twitching taking place in my hand was delivered with a smirk, knowing that it would embarrass him.

His breath begins to hitch and I know he's so close. He's right on the edge. Just a couple more strokes will cover the sheets in white.

I pull my hand away, eliciting the cutest whining and begging I've ever heard from my precious boy... as well as the most disobedient reaction he's ever given.

A soft, desperate mumbling of "no" and "please" rolls off Chanhee's pink little tongue, and he tries to turn around and sit up while reaching back to grab my hand. It happens so fast that he's already grabbed my wrist before I can react.

It takes more strength than you'd imagine to control him and hold him down, but I've gotten good at finding his weak spots in many different ways.

I hold him down in a position which has his face pressed against the bed and his ass sticking up in the air.

I lightly brush my fingertips down his shaft.

"Please, p-please let me cum-"

"Even when you just misbehaved and I had to pin you back down, you run your slutty mouth. Do you think you deserve to cum already? After that?"

"Please, mommy..." He sounds as if he's crying, but there are no tears yet.

He's probably alright, knowing him, but better safe than sorry. I quickly ask him for a color check.

"Green."

I continue to lightly brush my fingers against him, waiting until he comes down from his denied orgasm. As soon as Chanhee's body has calmed, obvious by the way he relaxes and the way his sounds change, I stop touching him and carefully move him off of my lap.

As I move from my previous spot, I instruct him to sit where I was.

He does so, curled up and pouting at me.

"Aw, did baby not get to cum?" I mirror his pout and nod, crawling towards him.

I harshly pull his legs apart and position my body between them so he can't close them back. I grab his chin, squishing his cheeks up and parting his pouty little lips.

"Did my bad babyboy not get to cum?" I keep up the fake sympathy.

"Please, please, I'll be so good. I-"

"Good? You don't seem like a very good boy today. That's okay." I trail my way down his body until he can probably feel my hot breath on his slit. "If you don't wanna act like a good boy, I'm not gonna treat you like one."

I wrap my lips around his tip and pull off with a pop. I watch his weak eyes as I lick long and slow up his shaft before taking him in my mouth, going further and further until I almost gag.

It doesn't take long, not a whole lot of bobbing and sucking, for him to get close again.

He's already been denied or delayed twice.

He starts twitching in my mouth and his hips buck up involuntarily.

I look up to meet his eyes, but instead I see them staring at the wall with water welling up.

That's my cue to pull off of him with another sweet pop.

I watch as the tears begin to roll down his cheeks and he squirms and jerks around, his breathing heavy.

"Please, n-no more teasing... I need to cum, I need- I'm begging you, baby-"

"Excuse me? Begging who?"

"Please, mommy-" It comes out like a whisper.

"Louder."

"Please, m-mommy-"

I wrap my hand around his neck and press on the sides.

"You little slut." I whisper in his ear. "You're begging to cum but you can't even beg properly. Louder." I press the end of louder into his neck with a kiss.

"Please! Please, please, please... I need mommy to make me cum, please!" His precious voice cries out, loud enough that anyone else in the house would hear.

He shakes and whines, desperately tugging at my clothes and groping my body as I kiss his neck.

When I pull away and try to get off the bed, Chanhee grabs my shirt and pulls me back. He places a hand on the back of my neck, caressing softly, and he presses a loving kiss to my lips.

He does this sometimes in moments like this. It's a nonverbal green indicator.

We have a "red" equivalent safe action, two in fact, but this kiss is how Chanhee reassures me that he's okay. He's enjoying himself, and enjoying his time with me. He isn't hurt or upset in any way whatsoever.

Green light.

I really appreciate it.

I linger in front of his face for a moment after the kiss, looking deep into his eyes with sincerity and love.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart. You're taking everything I give you perfectly. You'll tell me if it gets too much, right?"

"Of course."

I place one more quick kiss on his lips before getting up off the bed.

"Lay on your back, baby. Right on the edge of the bed." I tell him.

He starts doing as I say, but freezes when he sees me pulling my shirt off. I pretend not to notice the way he stares me down as I undress, practically drooling. By the sound of the bed, I assume he finally lays down when I disappear into the closet.

Chanhee's eyes widen at the sight of me walking out of the closet, finishing securing my black strap-on.

"I th-thought-"

"You'll cum. Be it untouched now or later when I ride you... you'll cum. Legs up, babyboy."

He lifts his legs and holds them up, and I grab the bottle of lube from the bedside drawer.

After proper application, a green light check, and making sure he's relaxed, I slowly push into him.

A soft moaning/gasping jumble leaves his mouth at the feeling of the familiar strap. I begin rocking my hips, slowly and carefully speeding up. I can't help but smile watching him as I fuck him.

His jaw lax.

His eyes leaking tears, which stream down the sides of his face.

His beautiful skin glistening with sweat.

His pink hair messy and sticking to his forehead.

His hard dick hitting his stomach.

His pretty fingers digging into his thighs as he holds his legs up.

His body lightly bouncing back and forth from the impact of my thrusts.

And my favorite part, the sweet sounds coming from his mouth.

"You look so beautiful... my pretty babyboy. So perfect. Give me your hands, angel." I slow down and he takes a moment to breathe before letting his legs rest on my shoulders and grabbing my hands.

I hold tight to him and increase speed immediately, pounding into Chanhee.

His back arches, his body starts shaking.

He's being so loud that even the neighbors probably know how good he's getting fucked.

"Listen to yourself, babyboy. You're my little toy, aren't you? Such a pretty slut for mommy. Say it."

"I'm a s-s...slut f...for... mommy. You ma...make me feel so g-good, mom...my..."

"Do you wanna cum?"

Chanhee nods, only making me slam into him harder.

"Use your words, slut."

"Please! Please let... me... c-cum..."

"Where are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum inside mommy?"

"Can-... Can I?"

I drop his hands and pull out of him, quickly working to take off the strap.

Chanhee lays in place, exhausted, but watching me with expectation.

"Move back on the bed a bit." I instruct him, to which he shakily obeys.

Once I place the strap to the side to wash later, I crawl on top of Chanhee and hover over him.

I press my forehead against his before placing a kiss on his cheek.

I sit up, straddling the boy. Taking his red, dripping cock, and lining it up to my entrance before lowering slowly.

We both let out sighs of relief when he's finally fully inside me.

For him, he's been denied so much pleasure already that knowing he's actually gonna cum this time is relief.

For me, I've been throbbing and dripping this entire time. That's my relief.

I know I can't take my time while riding him, that would be truly cruel. He's already taken so much, he deserves this.

Not to mention, it surely won't take long at all for either of us to cum.

I do my best to keep my balance as I start to bounce.

"You feel so good, babyboy..." I moan out, my voice breathy and slow. "You fill me up so well, you're so good for me."

I rock as I move up and down on him to intensify it.

His cock hits deep inside me, grazing my g-spot perfectly.

Chanhee digs his fingers into my hips.

"F-Feels... so good... I'm... cl-close..." His strained voice comes out in a moan. His chest rises and falls in a mix of shallow and deep breaths.

"Cum in me like the good... good little slut you are."

I keep my pace steady, as difficult as it may be, and it doesn't take much longer before a loud moan rips through the air like an orchestra in perfect tune and unison.

Music to my ears.

Chanhee's body jerks and his head is pressing hard against the bed, his back arching and his breath hitching. I feel a rush of warmth inside me.

I slow down until it comes to a natural stop as I lift myself off of him and lay next to him, my head on his chest. I can feel his breathing become more consistently deep.

My fingers trace along his skin.

"Thank you... but... you didn't-"

I quickly cut him off with a genuine tone, so he knows I'm not upset.

"I know. It's okay. I edged you so much, it doesn't matter. You deserve it, angel."

My confusion keeps me from reacting to what happens next.

He readjusts so his fingers can reach my pussy.

"I wanna take care of my mommy... because she always takes care of me."

He sinks two long fingers into me and presses his thumb on my clit.

I gasp, already being so close from riding him.

Chanhee curls his fingers in a rhythm to match his thumb massaging my clit.

I press my face into his chest as he fingers me to an orgasm. He kisses my head softly when I clench around his fingers and cover them in a new wetness.

"Can I lick them?" He asks after letting me come down from my high and catch my breath.

"Of course you can, angel."

He pulls his hand back up to his mouth and sucks on his fingers, covered in a blend of both of us, like he's sucking on candy.

"Chanhee, you always treat me so well. You're so good every time. Taking everything I give you, begging for mommy. I appreciate you so much, babyboy."

He finishes licking his fingers clean with a pop that mirrors the way I sucked him off earlier.

"It's not just me. You're the best I could ask for. You always leave me fully satisfied and beyond."

I smile and press my lips to his, quickly deepening the kiss, but keeping it brief.

"I'll get us cleaned up."

We end up working together to use a couple of towels to clean ourselves off, deciding we can handle the sheets tomorrow morning (along with the strap).

We cuddle up together, Chanhee's head resting on my chest and our arms around each other. I play with his hair and lay in the calm of his steady breathing.

It may be irrational, but I usually stay awake until he's asleep. I like knowing he's safe and sound before I close my eyes.

When I think he's finally out, I take my hand away from his hair and rest it on his body.

I feel myself drifting fast, but I hear one last thing before falling asleep.

Something that I've heard before, but not very often. Something that I only hear on occasion, which makes it all the more satisfying each time.

"I love you."

[donteattheappleshook]

Playacting

~*~

This fic was written as a thank you to @darkcolinodonorgasm​ for tainting her screen with Neal's face to make an amazing gif for me that sadly won’t load now.

Summary:

Emma has finally left her awful boyfriend after nearly a decade. But when he makes her meet him in a bar to pick up the last of her stuff, she risks falling victim to his usual tactics of sending her crawling back to him. Thankfully, the handsome bartender is there to lend a hand. A fake-boyfriend AU. Heavily Anti-Neal so don't read if that's not your thing.

Read it on Ao3

~*~

Emma sits down heavily on the stool, her elbow landing on the bartop as she lays her chin in her hand, exasperated. Stupid fucking Neal. It’s just like him really, making her come here to meet him after everything he’d made her put up with for the last ten years. Finally, finally she’d worked up the nerve to leave him, to say enough was enough and convince herself she deserved better and then of course as soon as she walks out for good, he finds a way to drag her back, to make him face her one more time. 

She should never have gotten involved with him in the first place. She hadn’t known any better in the beginning. She was seventeen and he was twenty five and she thought it was so cool that someone so mature wanted to be with her. She thought that had to mean she was mature as well. It wasn’t until much later, when half a decade had passed, that she realised how messed up it was… but by then they’d been together five years and he was her whole life. Nearly all her friends were his friends, they lived in his apartment… she can’t believe she stuck it out another five years after that. 

You can do this, she tells herself. You’ve already done the hard part. You left and nothing he can say will make you come back. But still, she steels herself for what will undoubtedly be an excruciatingly unpleasant interaction. Neal is just… he’s just so good at making her feel worthless, at breaking her down and chipping away at the little things he knows she’s self-conscious about until there’s nothing left and she just feels small and broken. She clenches her fists, staying her nerves and bracing herself. Not anymore though. Because you left and you just have to see his stupid face one more time and then it’s over. It’s just words. 

She jumps as a glass is set down in front of her and looks up to see a somewhat familiar pair of brilliant blue eyes looking back at her. The bartender. The handsome one. She’s seen him around before. She’s come to the bar fairly often over the last year or so and he seems to work most nights. She likes him, well, as much as you can like a stranger who pours you drinks all night. He’s always nice and friendly and extremely polite and he doesn’t hit on her the way most bartenders do. She’d never admit it, but sometimes it bothered her a little that he didn’t. She can’t quite remember his name, having never had a real conversation with him, and she stares at the drink in front of her, raising a suspicious brow at him. 

“I didn’t order this.”

“I know, but you look like you could use it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands, scowling. She’s already having a shit day, she doesn’t need some bartender trying to analyze her and telling her she looks as terrible as she feels. He doesn’t even bother to look embarrassed. Instead, he crosses his arms on the bartop, leaning on his elbows. 

“It means, you look sad.” He tilts his head then, scrutinizing her face. “Or angry,” he adds. “And you look like you could use a drink.” 

Emma wants to glare at him a little longer but his tone is light. There’s no judgement or pity on his face, just a friendly offer of a drink, and she can’t quite bring herself to be annoyed. And besides, he did guess her drink right. She reaches for her wallet and goes to pull out some cash but he waves her away. 

“It’s on the house,” he tells her and honestly her night is going to be so terrible that she doesn’t have it in her to turn down a free glass of rum. She takes a sip, noting that it’s damn good rum, and tilts her cup to him in thanks. He smiles, a little smugly and a little mischievously, and leaves her, going back to whatever work it is he has to do. 

A few minutes pass and Neal still hasn’t arrived. She glares at her watch. Of course he’d be late. He’d want to make her wait as long as possible so she’d have time to stew in her decision, both to leave him and to meet him. Her glass is nearly empty and she raps her fingers against the bartop rhythmically, waiting, bored, anxious, and impatient. 

The bartender looks up briefly when she does and then goes back to his task. The bar is empty apart from the two of them so he doesn't have anyone to wait on. He’s counting something, concentrating quite seriously and she takes a moment to study him. Of course she’d noticed he was attractive before. It would have been impossible not to. But she hadn’t really let herself look, not properly. She was in a relationship after all. But you’re not now, she realises suddenly. 

So she casts her eyes over him slowly, noting how soft his hair looks in contrast to the sharp angle of his jaw and the scruff that covers it, notices the muscles of his shoulders and his arms under the fitted black shirt he wears, the slightest bit of chest hair peeking out of the v of his collar. 

When she looks back at his face again he’s biting his lip against a smirk and she wonders if she’s been caught looking. But he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t come over to try pick her up and so she turns back to her drink and to waiting. But she doesn’t last long. She’s never done well with waiting and her impatience grows until it spills out of her mouth in the form of small talk. 

“So which is it?” she asks finally and he turns to look at her, a little surprised. He doesn’t quite seem to get her meaning. “Sad or angry. Which is it?” 

“Ah,” he says, as understanding dawns on him and he walks back over, leaning against the bar and looking at her carefully. She tries not to react under his intense appraisal. “Both, I think.” Emma grumbles into her drink, annoyed that he’s read her so easily, and he laughs. “Although, perhaps the anger is my fault. Maybe I should have made your drink a double.”

Emma smirks around the rim of her glass and then sets it down. “Well, it’s never too late to make amends.” 

He laughs again and grabs a bottle from the shelf behind him, refilling her drink. “So tell me, love, what brings you here tonight?”

“Are you always this nosy?” 

“It comes with the territory,” he shrugs. “Although people are usually much more forthcoming with their ails and secrets. You’re a bit of a puzzle, I’ll admit.” He smirks then, wicked and bright. “But I love a challenge.” Emma rolls her eyes. 

“I’m meeting someone,” she says finally. 

“I see. A first date?” he asks and she nearly chokes on her drink, coughing. 

“God, no. Hopefully the last one.” 

He raises a brow in interest. “Are you here to break up with someone? Should I have security on standby?” 

She shakes her head. “No, that part’s already done. I left last week. But now the asshole is making me meet him here so that he can give me back the files I left behind and need for work.” 

“You couldn’t just go pick them up?”

“I wish,” she frowns. “He put them in a bag and has been holding them hostage until I agreed to meet him.” 

“Sounds like a real winner,” Killian drawls sarcastically. 

“You don’t know the half of it.” 

“Bad breakup then?” 

She nods. “Bad relationship."

“What sins is he guilty of?”

Emma laughs. “Take your pick. Lust, wrath, greed, pride. Throw a dart at any of the seven and you’ll hit something that sticks.”

“I’m sorry love,” he says and she shrugs. It’s not his fault. “So tell me something then, because I can’t quite seem to figure it out. Why are you so nervous to see him?” he asks and she looks at him in surprise.  “You look like you can handle yourself and you’ve certainly got enough rage and fire under the surface to burn this whole bloody place to the ground. What is it?” 

Emma catches her lip between her teeth, a little pleased at the compliment, at the suggestion that she looks like a badass, but the question hits hard. She’s been asking herself that for ten years. Why is Neal able to get under her skin so easily, to make her doubt herself and her worth?

“Neal,” she says finally and the bartender doesn’t push, just leans on the bartop, waiting, giving her time. “He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with. We dated for ten years and he knows everything about me… and he knows exactly how to use it to make me feel like crap about myself, like if I didn’t have him I wouldn’t have anything, nobody else would want me.” And she can’t exactly prove him wrong considering she’s been faithful to his selfish ass for a decade, regardless of the fact that he had no problem showing her how many women wanted him. 

Her hand tightens against her glass and for a moment she worries she might crush it but then the back of the bartender's fingers brush against her knuckles and she feels the anxiety and the hurt start to seep out, to dissipate at the warm touch. He’s not holding her hand, he’s barely moved his own across the space between them, nudged hers with it in a way that could almost be an accident. But when she looks up and meets his gaze she knows it’s not. And his next words confirm it. 

“Believe me, I can guarantee you that’s not true.” 

She swallows. “I just -” He waits again. “I just wish I hadn’t stuck it out so long, you know? I wasted ten years with the guy, all of my twenties. And that whole time he never wanted to get married, never wanted to make any commitments or promises, kept saying he didn't want to be tied down.” Didn’t want to be tied down to you, her memory supplies. “And I - Why am I telling you all this?” she asks herself suddenly and he smiles, letting out a little huff of a laugh. 

“It’s not your fault,” he tells her. “It’s the bartender thing, people can’t help themselves.” 

She doesn’t know if she believes him. She knows people like to treat bartenders like therapists but there’s something about him, an honesty and a sincerity that makes her believe he actually gives a shit about her and what she has to say, like he really cares about her troubles. But maybe everyone projects that onto the people plying them with alcohol. 

“Well now you know my entire sad life and I don’t even know your name,” she says and he straightens, holding out his hand between them. 

“Killian Jones.” She reaches out, shakes it, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“Emma Swan.”

“I know,” he says and before she can question him he speaks again. “Now that we’re not strangers anymore, can I be candid?” She hesitates but only for a moment and then nods. “Your ex sounds like a complete and utter douchebag.” Emma bursts out laughing, the sound of the insult on his tongue seeming wrong, not fitting his accent and the smooth, slightly rogeish way he carries himself. 

And then, suddenly for some unfathomable reason, she catches herself doing what she always does: defending Neal. “It’s not all his fault,” she says, the words coming out automatically. “He had a really rough upbringing. His dad was never around and then he had to run away when he was really young and -” Killian cuts her off.

“That’s a really sad backstory,” he says. “But he's still a douchebag.” Emma bursts out laughing. It’s almost manic, shocked and disbelieving to hear someone dismiss Neal’s history so flippantly, that story which had been used by her friends and his to defend and forgive every shitty thing he ever said or did to her. And now here Killian is, refusing it. Refusing the excuses and the justifications for treating her poorly. 

As if on cue, the bell over the door jingles and Emma turns to see Neal walking in. Killian must know who he is by the way her whole body stiffens at the sight of him. But Neal hasn’t noticed them yet and Killian leans in. 

“Hey,” he says, brushing his warm fingers against her arm. “You’ve got this.” And then he’s gone, disappearing into the back room without another word and Emma tries no to take it to heart, not to let it feel like a dismissal. She thought they had something going there for a moment. She didn’t really know what, an understanding maybe, a connection, the kind she always thought she had with Neal but didn’t realise until now how wrong she was. 

Before she can get too caught up in her disappointment, Neal sits down in front of her, setting the bag with her files on the bartop unceremoniously but keeping his hand on it. She goes to reach for it, hoping that maybe she can get through this whole interaction without having to exchange a single word with him, but as soon as she does, he drags it back towards himself, out of her reach. She glares at him. 

“Give me the bag, Neal,” she sighs and he looks at her with that look she’s seen so many times, that look she hates, the patronizing, belittling look that makes her feel like someone to be pitied, someone worthless. She can feel her hands start to tremble and so she clenches them into fists. “Neal,” she says again when he doesn’t answer. “The bag.” 

“Come on, Ems,” he says and it’s a long-suffering kind of thing, her name sounding exhausting, like more trouble than it’s worth, like she’s some toddler throwing a tantrum. “Can we stop this now? We both know you’re not leaving - why else would you have agreed to meet me here?”

“To get my files back,” she bites through gritted teeth. “I need them for work.” She was going to lose this skip if she didn’t get them back and he knew that. 

“Are you sure you didn’t leave them behind so that you could find a reason to drag me out here and sit through your little charade of ‘woe is me’ until I agreed to take you back?”

“You made me come here,” she reminds him.

“Because I know you, Emma,” he says. “I know that you don’t want to do this. You’re pissed, I get it, whatever. But it’s time to get over it. You’ve made your point, time to come home.”

“I’m not coming home.”

“Yes you are. You always do.” When she doesn’t agree he sighs. “How many times have we done this? You’ll sleep on Ruby’s couch for a few days, stew in whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself I’ve done wrong, and then you’ll come home because you know as well as I do that we belong together, I’m it for you. What do you think you’re gonna do without me? You think you can support yourself just by chasing skips?”

“Yes,” she says but her voice wavers. Don’t let him get to you. 

“Emma, enough, alright. I know you’re mad about that whole thing with that girl from work but it’s not really my fault.” They’ve had this fight before. She won’t do him the decency of asking him to explain what that means. But he does anyway. “Maybe if you weren’t always off trying to play superhero, coming back looking like a mess and acting like a dude I wouldn’t need to go find what I need somewhere else. I won’t do it again, okay? Not if you really try. But I’m not gonna put up with it again, you walking out.”

“I’m not coming back,” she says, refusing to take the bait and reaching for the bag again. He still holds it away. 

“Do you really think you’re gonna find someone better?” he asks then, some anger creeping in. “You’re not going to find someone who treats you better than I have, Emma, not after everything I’ve had to put up with over the years. Nobody wants all that sad, lonely orphan baggage that you drag into the room with you.”

Emma can feel the tears burning her eyes and she knows he can see them too and she hates it. She hates how every word he says digs deeper, how carefully calculated and crafted his speech is to target all the things she dislikes about herself, all the things she knows push people away, all the reasons she knows she’ll probably be alone from now on. This is usually the moment when she breaks, changes her mind and comes back because the idea of being alone is far scarier than being with him. 

She can feel herself weakening when a voice cuts through the silence of the nearly empty room. “Swan! Love, I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

It takes her a moment to realise that it’s Killian talking, that he’s somehow managed to come through the doors from outside, a jacket thrown over his tshirt and his apron abandoned. She opens her mouth to ask him what he’s doing as he strides towards her but before she can finish saying his name he’s caught her face between his hands and captured her lips with his. 

He catches her gasp on his tongue, kissing her with a desperation and an intensity that threatens to knock her off her stool but he holds her fast. There’s a heat and a passion behind every pull of his lips and flick of his tongue against her own that shoots straight to her belly. She groans against him, she can’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this and her hands find his hips, hanging on for dear life as he uses his hand at her cheek to tilt her head, his thumb pulling down at her chin so he can kiss her deeper. His other hand finds the leather of her jacket, bunchin in it and using it to pull her closer, as if there was any room left between them. 

When he finally pulls back she’s breathless, her eyes and her head feeling foggy and every inch of her skin humming. He smirks, his lips still brushing hers and then capturing them in another slow, soft kiss, this one shorter than the last and it sends waves of desire through her. Her own hand tightens in the leather at his hip. He breaks the second kiss and she’s ready to pull him back in for a third when someone coughs behind Killian. 

Neal. She’d forgotten he was here. 

She looks up into Killian’s eyes, glad to find them as heavy lidded and swallowed by black as she’s sure her own are. He brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, a smile crossing his face and then, he winks. He fucking winks and her, his back still to Neal. Emma sits gaping like an idiot, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry,” he says again instead. “I got caught up at work. I hope that makes up for it a little.” 

It takes her another second to catch on but when she does, a wave of gratitude and relief and a little bit of disappointment washes over her. It’s an act. He’s doing her a favor because she told him about her shitty ex boyfriend and he’s a nice guy. Killian smiles at her again, encouragingly this time and Emma decides to play along. Let Neal be the one feeling small, and unwanted and replaceable for once. 

She reaches up and cards her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s just as soft as she thought it would be, and then allows herself the small pleasure of sliding her hand around the back of his neck and down to his chest where she teases the hair poking out of his shirt. “It’s a start,” she tells him. “You can really make it up to me later.” His eyebrow shoots up as a barely contained laugh, impressed and conspiratorial, crosses his face before he catches it between his teeth. 

“Oh, I intend to,” he promises and while she knows they’re just playacting, the timber of his voice stirs some very real desires in her. She can feel the flush creeping up her cheeks, weighing the pros and cons of dragging him into the bathroom and seeing how far he’ll take this charade. Neal clears his throat again, interrupting her fantasy and Killian smirks, smug, though she can tell it’s not at the reaction he’s drawing from her, but rather at the annoyance he’s managed to evoke from her ex. 

“Hi, mate,” he says, reaching over and grabbing the bag from Neal’s stunned and limp fingers. “Thanks for this, we really needed it,” he tells him, gesturing between them with the bag. He hasn’t taken his hands off her. When he turned, his hand snaked around her waist, settling low on her hip, fingers playing idly with the waist of her jeans, teasing at the skin beneath her shirt and it’s all Emma can do to hold back the shivers that are forming at the base of her spine. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Neal frowns, glaring at Killian before turning it on Emma. “Who the fuck is this guy?” he demands. Emma blanks, the ferocity of Neal’s anger freezing her on the spot. She’s never seen him jealous before. Thankfully, Killian jumps in again, his hand sliding up from her hip to the back of her neck, playing with the hair at the nape in a way that’s both sweet and oddly possessive. 

“Take your pic,” Killian says breezily, looking at her with an extremely convincing imitation of a lovesick expression on his face. “Lover, paramour, beau, flame... boyfriend,” he says finally with a brush of his thumb under her ear and she practically melts. He’s very good at this pretending thing. Too good. “I’ll take whatever she’ll give me,” he says finally when she looks up at him and her certainty that he’s pretending waivers. 

He stares at her for a moment longer, something weighted in his gaze that sends her heart beating frantically in her chest before he turns back to Neal, throwing the bag over his shoulder.  “But I don’t need to tell you that,” he says dismissively. “You know what it’s like to be lucky enough to have Emma Swan give you the time of day.” There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks next. “Only a fool would have let her go.” He presses a kiss to her temple.

Neal is angry again. This time, it’s directed at her. “You expect me to believe that in the week since you stormed out you’ve gone and found yourself some boytoy to follow you around? Some guy you just met?

“I didn’t just meet him,” she says and it’s not technically a lie. She’s known him in passing for a year now, even if she did just learn his name tonight. “We… work together,” she says finally. 

Neal looks at Killian with a wary expression. “You’re a bail bondsman?” he asks and Emma doesn’t miss the surprised and flatteringly impressed look Killian gives her before flawlessly answering that yes, yes he is in fact a bail bondsman. 

“I’ve spent the last year working alongside Swan. Pining for her, waiting for her to walk into the office, to see that smile light up her face.” He traces the line of her lips. “The way those unreasonably tight jeans cling to her.” His fingers trace their way down her throat, over her shoulder. “Watch her face down one creep after another.” 

He catches her hand, her knuckles a bit bruised from the last skip who wouldn’t stop fighting. He brushes his thumb over her knuckles before he brings them to his lips and kisses them. She watches him, enthralled by the picture he paints of her and he meets her gaze, looking no less mesmerized himself. “She’s a marvel, my Swan.” Emma swallows, she likes the way that sounds coming from his lips. My Swan. “But mostly,” he adds finally and he’s still not looking at Neal, only at her and god he’s handsome and he smells so good and he’s so… kind. That’s not something she’s used to but she’s drawn to it. “Waiting for her to break up with her idiot boyfriend so that I could tell her so,” he finishes. 

Emma’s not sure what comes over her but suddenly her hands have found the back of his neck and she’s crushing his lips to hers. She can feel his surprise and nearly pulls back but his arms go around her waist as he draws her in, deepening the kiss. His hands alternate between gentle caresses and desperately fisting in her shirt and his mouth over hers is no different, languide strokes of his tongue alternated with bruising kisses and teeth nipping at her lips until she’s dizzy. Neal coughs a third time and Killian breaks away with a frustrated groan. One that feels very real. 

“Are you still here?” he demands, glaring at the other man over his shoulder. 

“I think I deserve some answers,” he says then, seething, and Emma feels a rage building in her like nothing she’s ever felt before. He deserves answers? He’s the one who’s spent years cheating and blaming her for it, who put her down at every opportunity, who reminded her that he could be with anyone if he wanted to and she couldn’t. She’s done with it. That final demand is the last straw. She owes him nothing. 

“What’s going on,” she bites out and sees Neal almost recoil from the venom in her voice. He’s not used to her standing up for herself. Killian steps back, giving her room to finally tell off her awful ex, keeping his hand on her lower back and she appreciates the small gesture of support. “Is that I found someone who doesn’t treat me like garbage. Someone who doesn’t blame me for all their shortcomings and who actually gives a shit about what I think and feel and want.” She can see that her words are affecting him, for the first time ever, and so she digs in. She wants to hurt him. 

“Someone who actually knows how to make me feel good, how to drive me insane and leave me desperate and wanting.” Killian raises a very interested brow at her then, listening attentively and she feels the blush creeping up her neck but continues. Neal had always been angry about how much difficulty she had finishing when they were together, accusing her of being cold and frigid.  “Someone who doesn’t last thirty, underwhelming seconds and then rolls over like some useless lump. Someone I don’t have to beg to go down on me like it’s a chore so that I can have the hopes of a sub-par orgasm.” 

She can feel Killian’s fingers twitch against the skin of her back but she can’t bring herself to look at him. His hand begins tracing up and down the base of her spine in a way she’s not even sure is intentional. His eyes are burning into her. 

“Okay. Enough, I get it,” Neal says finally. 

“Yeah. It is enough. I should have done this years ago.” She feels a pride swelling in her chest, mixing with the arousal that Killian is stirring in her and it’s a heady combination. “I think you should leave,” she tells him and she watches with vindication as his shoulders sag and he slinks out of the bar without another word. 

Emma is so lost in the thrill and the satisfaction of watching her horrid ex leave so demolished, knowing that she likely won’t ever have to speak to him again, that it’s a moment before she remembers that she’s still standing here with a near stranger. A stranger she’s made out with three times now and who is currently removing his hand from where it had been playing against her skin. She misses it immediately. But the charade is over, she realises. It hadn’t been real, he’d been doing her a kindness and she was grateful to him, even if she was a little crushed that they couldn’t go on playing happy couple. He’d been very good at it. 

Killian clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck as he gives her a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “Well, I guess he won’t be bothering you again,” he says and Emma shakes her head. 

“No. I’m sure he won’t. Thank you. For… well, all of that. You didn’t have to.”

He smiles at her again. It’s a nice smile, and she notices that he has a smudge of her lipstick on his bottom lip. She’s torn between reaching to wipe it off and leaving more marks on him. She does neither. 

“Yes I did,” he says, drawing her attention away from his mouth. “He had it coming. I heard what he said to you and if what you said was true… well. You’re better to be rid of him.” 

Emma clears her throat, a small smile playing at her lips. “Did you see his face when he thought we’d had some elicit office affair of the heart going on?” Killian nods, smirking proudly. “How did you even come up with all of that on the fly?” she asks. He’d been… very convincing. 

“I didn’t,” he says and her eyes snap to his. But he doesn’t explain or elaborate, just lets it hang there in the air between them. She reaches out and takes his hand, tries to ignore the way the calluses feel rough against her soft skin, how warm he is. 

“Thank you,” she says again. “I don’t know how I’ll pay you back for that.” 

His smile is soft this time as he takes her hand in both of his and kisses her knuckles again. “You don’t. It was the right thing to do.” 

He goes to leave her, to walk away but the feel of his lips against her skin is still burning through her fingers, burning everywhere that he’s touched her, like he’d branded her and left the marks behind. Her cheek, her neck, her spine, her hip, her lips, all of them are simmering after the raging inferno he set off in her and she’s not ready to let it die out just yet. He said he hadn’t made it all up. 

She has no idea what she’s doing. She’s never been with anyone but her shitty ex and a few guys when she was a teenager. She doesn’t know how to seduce a stranger into taking her home - or on the bartop, she’s not picky - but she shoots her shot. She catches his hand more firmly in her own before he can walk away. 

“Unless…” she starts and he stops, takes a step back towards her. 

“Unless?” There’s something a little hopeful in his eyes when they meet hers. And something a little less innocent and a little darker as they trail down to her lips.

“I mean, you were late,” she says coyly and watches as the playfulness crinkles the corners of his eyes and the smirk pulls at his lips. 

He raises an eyebrow at her as he closes the last of the distance between them, standing close enough that she needs to spread her legs on her stool to allow him to stand between them. His thumb finds her chin, tilting her face up to his.

“I was,” he says, ducking his head and pressing his lips to her neck, just below her jaw. She takes in a shaky breath. “How very rude of me,” he adds before kissing the other side of her neck, this time at the hollow where it meets her collarbone. Emma squirms in her seat. He’s facing her again then, his lips barely an inch away from her own, so close that she can feel his breath on them when he speaks. “How will I ever make it up to you?”

She doesn’t think, she just acts, grabbing his shirt and yanking him forward until he’s trapped between her thighs and she can feel the hardness growing where he’s pressed against her. He lets out a surprised but pleased sound and it emboldens her.

“Why don’t you think about that while I thank you properly,” she says and he doesn’t need anymore encouragement. He catches her face in his hands again, slanting his mouth over hers, his tongue teasing hers as he presses himself closer to her as one of his hands travels down to her thigh, sliding along it before hooking her knee and pulling it up around his hip. She nearly loses her balance on her seat but he holds her steady, his kisses growing deeper and headier and she’s letting out whimpers and soft moans, sounds she didn’t know she had in her and he swallows each of them up greedily, repeating whatever he’d done to draw them out so he can hear them again. 

Her hands find their way to his hair, fisting and tugging and he lets out a groan so she does it again. And again. Her hips roll up against his of their own accord and he practically rips his mouth away from hers, the sound he makes somewhere between a gasp and a growl before he finds her neck again, lips and teeth and tongue laving at the skin there, biting and licking and sucking until she’s sure he’s left a mark but she holds him fast, tilting her head back to give him more access. 

He takes it appreciatively, his tongue sliding down her throat until he reaches the top of her breast. The hand at her knee starts a slow journey up her side, under the skin of her shirt, burning and leaving goosebumps behind in their wake as he trails his fingers along her ribcage to her bra, his thumb tracing over her nipple and she gasps, dragging his mouth back to hers. She can feel his smirk against her lips but she doesn’t care, nipping at his bottom lip and slipping her own hand under his shirt and scratching at the trail of hair on his stomach, a trail she desperately wants to see and he shudders under her touch. 

The bell rings above the door as a group of friends walk in, chattering happily and Killian pulls away, drawing his hand out from under her shirt. His forehead falls against hers, panting. His tongue comes out to run over his lip like he’s tasting her there. He’s looking at her like he’s waiting for her to decide what happens next and so she grabs the front of his shirt, tilting her head to brush her lips against his own, tongue flicking against the one he’d just licked and drawing another groan from him. 

“Bathroom?” she asks and he shakes his head, stepping back and before she can even start to think she’s been rejected, he holds his hand out to her, nodding towards the back of the bar. She takes it and he begins practically dragging her towards the 'employees only' door before she remembers why she’d come here in the first place. 

“My bag!” she says and he looks confused before he remembers, turning to grab the duffle and tossing it behind the bar and then pulling her along behind him again. Emma giggles at his enthusiasm, excitement and arousal and want making her giddy. He hears her laugh and turns, a bright smile on his face, crinkling his eyes and lighting up his features as he pulls her to him. He captures her lips again, his fingers tangling in her hair as they both try and kiss with grinning mouths. 

They pass someone in the staff area as Killian continues to walk them backwards to wherever his destination is, refusing to give up the kiss, and Emma feels herself flush as the young man sees them and smirks smugly and knowingly. 

“About bloody time,” he says and Killian glowers at him. 

“Get to work, Will. We have customers,” he barks and the man holds his hands up innocently, the smirk not leaving his face. Killian pulls her along a few more feet then until they reach a door that he fumbles to open. They’ve barely made it inside before he’s pushing her against the wood, pinning her there with his hips and his mouth and her head is spinning but his lips have started down her neck again and he rolls his hips against hers in a dirty grind that has her crying out. 

When her eyes open she notices they’re in an office and she worries about what rules he might be breaking, worried about his job and asks if he’ll get in trouble for bringing her in here. He shakes his head. 

“I own the place,” he says, his voice muffled against the underside of her jaw. 

“You own the bar?” she demands, surprised and he sighs, pulling his head up to lean his forehead against hers. 

“Could we perhaps talk about this later?” he asks, his talented fingers following her ribs up to her breast again, cupping it in his palm and dragging against its peak. Emma nods furiously before kissing him again. His hand is still moving over her, massaging and flicking and teasing before he grows frustrated by the fabric between them, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. 

As soon as it’s off, he’s pulling at the cup of her bra, exposing her breast to him and taking her nipple in his mouth. Emma gasps at the feel of his tongue dragging against the sensitive tip, swirling and licking, teasing it with his teeth. She has a death grip in his hair, refusing to let him move, not that he seems particularly inclined to.  

“Fuck, Killian,” she gasps when he finds her other breast with his hand, working her up more and more until she thinks she might come from this alone. She can feel his smirk, his scruff scratching against her skin and it sends a shiver through her whole body. 

“That’s the intention, love,” he tells her and she tightens her hold in his hair for his smugness, yanking until he’s forced to pull away from her chest and look at her. 

“Then get on with it,” she tells him and thrills at the way his expression darkens. He slides his hands between her and the door, palming her ass and rolling her hips against the hard ridge of his erection before he lifts her, wrapping her legs around his waist effortlessly. Emma’s arms wind around his neck as he turns, carrying her across the room and setting her down on the desk. 

“As you wish,” he tells her, slipping the straps of her bra down her arms. She reaches behind herself and unclasps it, tossing it aside and watches as he takes her in, eyes roving hungrily over her. Nobody’s ever looked at her like that, like he wants to devour her. Maybe he does. 

He’s still wearing his jacket and Emma is suddenly overcome with the unfairness that he’s spending so much time just looking at her while she doesn’t get to see any of him. She reaches for his shoulders and pushes the jacket down his arms until it falls to the floor, reaching for the hem of his shirt and beginning to slide it up but she gets distracted when his fingers resume their tortuous exploration of her breasts. 

She gasps, her head falling back as his touch sends wetness pooling between her thighs and her nails dig into the skin at his sides. He’s watching her, taking note of her reactions, figuring out what makes her tick and then doing it again and again until she’s writhing under him and he hasn’t even undressed her yet. It’s never been like this, all consuming and desperate and wanton. She needs more and she whimpers his name. 

The sound of his name falling from her lips so needily does something to him and suddenly he’s dragging her mouth back to his, swallowing her moan as his tongue does sinful things to hers. He pushes her back until she’s laying against the desk and his lips leave hers, trailing down her neck to her chest, taking a moment to pay attention to each of her breasts before continuing down her belly, playing at her navel a moment before he reaches the button of her jeans. 

“I must say I’m quite a fan of these,” he tells her as he flicks open the button and starts to pull down the zipper. “But I think it’s time for them to go.” Then, he’s hooking his fingers into her waistband and pulling them down with enough force that she slides to the end of the desk with them. Emma sits up on her elbows as she watches him pull them off, one leg at a time until she’s left in only her underwear. He's watching her as well with something predatory in his gaze. 

“I want to see you too,” she says, grabbing at his shirt but he seems too distracted to catch on. “Hey,” she says finally, sitting up and grabbing the collar to get his attention. “Fair’s fair.” 

He lets out a low huff of laughter. “You’re right,” he agrees. “Bad form,” he chastises himself before reaching to pull the shirt over his head. Emma’s eyes widen as she takes him in, the strong curve of his shoulders and his arms that his shirt hadn’t done justice, the long lines of his torso, pale skin covered in dark hair that blankets his chest and tapers down over his stomach, disappearing beneath his jeans. She doesn’t fight the urge to burry her fingers in it, hands tracing over the planes of his chest, scraping her nails over his nipples and down his sides and he lets out a soft hiss. 

She reaches his belt then and as she begins to pull at the leather to loosen it, he stops her. She frowns at him but he only presses his lips to her jawline, tongue flicking out to tease. “Ah, ah,” he says, taking hold of the last scrap of material keeping her from being bare to him. “Ladies first,” he insists with a soft nip before he pulls them down her legs. He’s parting her thighs then, and while Emma expects him to undo his pants, instead he slides down to his knees, placing a leg over either shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” 

He raises a brow at her from between her legs, a slow smirk creeping across his face and it’s so goddamn sexy that her toes curl against his back, a shudder rippling through her. 

“As much as I’d like to hear you beg,” he starts. “I’d also like to make sure you have at least some chance at a sub-par orgasm,” he says echoing her words from earlier and she grins, biting her lip at how ridiculous he is and he takes that as permission. He turns his head, trailing slow, languid kisses along her thigh, scruff scratching at the sensitive skin until he reaches her hip. He bypasses where she’s hot and desperate for him to do the same on the other and she whines, trying to pull him in with her leg on his shoulder. 

He chuckles against her, his breath ghosting over her folds and she sucks in a shaky breath. “Please, Killian,” she says and suddenly his mouth is there, placing a deep, hot kiss against her center and her whole body clenches with the intensity of it. 

“I told you, Swan,” he says. “There’s no need to beg.” He smirks at her. “This time.” 

And before she can say anything his tongue is dragging a slow line from base to top and every thought in her mind is gone except for him and fuck. He eats into her like a starving man, tongue lapping at her folds, sliding inside of her and thrusting in a way that has her back arching off the desk and her hands fisting in his hair. He lays an arm across her hips to keep her still as he replaces his tongue with his fingers, dragging slowly and steadily against her walls in a rhythm that has her writhing, desperately trying to rock her hips against him. 

“Bloody hell, love,” he says as he watches her ride his fingers. “You’re a vision. So wet, so wanting. Tell me what you need,” he asks then, begs, and she’s too caught up in the feelings he’s sending through her body to find words so instead she presses her heel against his back until he gets the message and closes his mouth over he clit, tongue flattening against it as he circles in time with his fingers. 

“Fuck!" She’s already so close. It’s never been this easy, this quick, this intense, but her whole body feels like it’s burning, the coil in her belly tightening and he picks up his pace. His fingers curl inside of her pumping hard and fast as he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks and her whole world shatters. 

Killian works her through it, fingers still thrusting slowly, his thumb replacing his mouth as he slides up her body, working her back up before she’s even sure she’s come down. He takes a moment to pause at her hips, her stomach, her breasts and by the time he’s claiming her lips she’s desperate for him again. 

She sits up, taking hold of his hips and pulling him against her until their flush, the hair of his chest scraping against the sensitive skin of her nipples and only making her want more. This time, when she reaches for his belt he doesn’t stop her and she makes quick work of his jeans, sliding inside and taking him in hand. 

He groans into her mouth and she smiles against his lips. He’s hard and hot and heavy under her touch and she drags her palm along his length a few times until he growls out a warning ‘Swan’. 

She takes pity on him, pushing his jeans down his hips and wrapping her hand around him, pumping him slowly and his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted in pained bliss and god she wants him. She can’t remember the last time she wanted someone like this. So she tells him. 

“Now,” she adds and he nods a little frantically, patting his pockets before he spots his wallet on the desk next to her and retrieves a condom from it. He brings the packet to his teeth, fumbling for a moment as she squeezes him and he gives her another warning glare. 

She smirks, leaning in to press her lips to his neck, catching the hard, tense lines of it between her teeth, biting and then soothing the spot with her tongue. He groans and she gives the other side of his neck the same treatment, thrilling when he curses under his breath, desperately trying to roll the condom on. 

She’d help but she’s having too much fun, particularly when she sucks a bruise into the spot just behind his ear and he lets out a stuttering cry, his hand grabbing hold of her hip, fingers digging into her skin. She’ll probably have a mark there and she likes that idea, likes the idea that she can get him as out of control as he can her. 

“Minx,” he accuses, using her hair to draw her mouth back up to his and sliding his tongue deep without preamble. His kiss is sloppy, desperate, wanting. He’s on the edge and she brought him there. She wonders if she can push him over. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” he asks then, releasing her mouth to say it low in her ear. “Ever since that first night you came into the bar with your friends. Gods you were stunning.” His fingers slip around her hip to between her thighs, finding her center again and she whimpers at his touch, slow and teasing, circling without ever hitting where she needs him. 

“I wanted to curl my fingers into you bloody ridiculously long hair,” he tells her, doing just that as his fingers slip inside her once more and she gasps. “Aye, and in there.” She’s clutching at his shoulders as he fucks her with his fingers, continuing to rasp filth into her ear. “I thought about how you’d look, splayed out on the bartop with my head between your legs, or bent over this desk. It was bloody torture.” 

His thumb finally brushes over her clit and her whole body wracks with the force of the pleasure that courses through her. “Why,” she gasps again when he circles tighter. “Why didn’t you?” she asks. She doesn’t usually like dirty talk. She'd always found it derogatory. But it’s not with him. It makes her feel wanted and desirable.

“Because you had a bloody boyfriend,” he growls, exasperated. Who? She wonders before remembering and then wishing she hadn’t. “But that didn’t stop me from imagining how you’d look with your back arched just like this,” he says, eyes raking over the length of her. “Or the sounds you’d make when I touched you,” he adds, then pulls his fingers from her heat and sucks them into his mouth, making her squirm. “I imagined you writhing just like this, begging me to take you.”

She doesn’t need to beg though at this point she would, dignity be damned. No one has ever made her feel this way and she never wants it to end. She’d give him anything he asked for if he just didn’t stop. She wraps her legs around his hips, pulls him against her so that his cock pushes through her folds and they both moan. Killian ruts his hips against hers a few times, the tip of him brushing against her sensitive bundle of nerves and when she thinks she can’t take it anymore he finally takes himself in hand and lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Gods, I imagined how tight and hot and perfect you’d be around me,” he confesses before pushing in and grabbing hold of her, staying still for a moment as she adjusts to the sensation of being filled by him. He’s big. Thick and long and so much better than what she’s made do with for the last decade. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so full, so properly full until now. “You’re even more perfect than I imagined,” he manages, his voice strained. 

“Move,” she begs then. “Please.” He obliges, pulling out slowly and thrusting back in hard and fast and Emma cries out from the force of it. He’s barely started but she can already tell she’s never been properly fucked either. 

He starts moving then, thrusting in and out of her at a punishing pace and she takes all that he can give her. Her hands are in his hair again and his finds her leg, hitching it higher over his hip so he can thrust deeper, hitting new places inside of her. His hand slides down to the cheek of her ass, pulling forward to meet his every thrust, rolling his pelvic bone over her clit each time he pushes back into her and Emma’s already nearly ready to fall again. 

“That’s it, love,” he tells her as a litany of embarrassing sounds fall from her lips and she claws at the skin of his arms, hips rolling in a desperate grind. “Take what you need.” His free hand comes to her breast, teasing the hardened peak the way he’d spent time figuring out she liked. Everything he does is just how she likes it, how she never even knew she liked it. But he’s figured her out in the time it took to get her out of her pants and now he’s using all of it to bring her higher, higher than she’s ever been. 

And she falls. He slants his mouth over hers, like he wants to swallow her ecstasy, feel it humming through his body and then with a final few thrusts, she feels his own release echo through her. They stay there for a moment, frozen in a half kiss, mouths open and panting, breathing each other in as they both try to come down from such a fierce, earth-shattering climax. 

Emma finds his hair then, brushing he damp strands from his face as he holds her to him. “I wish you’d told me,” she says finally, thinking of all the time she wasted with him when she could have been having this with Killian. 

He huffs out a laugh against her cheek, pulling back and stroking it gently. “Aye, I was a bloody idiot,” he tells her. “Everyone who works here knew I was pining for you and they all told me so.” Emma smiles, her heart beating rapidly and her cheeks reddening at his confession. He’d already told her he’d thought about her but to hear that he’d been pining… 

“Well, you may be an idiot,” she grants him and he pinches her side playfully. “But you’re the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

He beams at her then, and then a wicked look falls over his face. The hand at her side begins tracing her thigh, from knee to hip and then up to her ribs. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, though it’s fairly obvious when his skilled fingers find her still overly-sensitive center and she gasps at the sharp pleasure. He raises a brow at her. 

“I’m wondering,” he starts, lips finding her ear as his fingers start a slow stroke that has goosebumps blossoming over her skin. “How many sub-par orgasms it would take to earn the title of real boyfriend.”  Her heart is racing, from his touch, or his words, or both. She doesn’t care. She wants both. She likes him. It’s been so long since she liked someone and for it to be someone like him, and for him to like her back, to have pined for her as he put it… 

She smiles. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

~*~

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[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Simple perfection

| Prompt - Feeling their pulse | this prompt can be read stand alone but comes off with reference from this prompt. Check out if you'd like |

Voldemort had evaporated like ashes in the air, not a single shred of him was left anymore . There were cheers from all across the halls and people were jumping up and down with excitement, contentment, happiness. Some were crying tears of happiness, some reunited with their families, some were kissing and harry was there watching all of it. And then he saw the glimmering eyes towards him, the eyes that held hope after all, the eyes that held respect, eyes that were now filled with love. Wizarding world had won the war, harry had after 7 years fought voldemort and almost died in the process but killed him. They had won the fucking war.

Before Harry could've acknowledged what had happened Hermione had hugged Harry tighter than she had ever before and with tears brimming in his eyes, Ron had too joined along. They laughed and cheered him on, told him how proud they were of him. They loved him and he loved them too, after all they were now his only family left and that thought ached him but just for a little bit he thought, he could be selfish and cry in joy that they had won against Voldemort.

And then his eyes fell upon the blonde sitting in corner with his parents. He threw a vivid smile at Draco and he smiled back. Harry came back and Draco couldn't he more happy ,yet he was terrified.

The days flew a little faster than Harry would have anticipated. In the honour of winning the war , few people had stayed behind at Hogwarts while a few returned home. To harry, Hogwarts was home and he wanted to do anything to make it feel like home again. The reconstruction of Hogwarts started 2 days after the war and harry had suddenly grown very much in popularity. He was the most wanted man in Britain, in a good way.

He was probably walking back from Ms. McGonagall's office when he ran into Draco. Draco merely smiled at harry and walked away. The words shared between them before the war had somehow been forgotten but it has sure developed a relationship between Harry and Draco that wasn't hate anymore. It was only during the last week at Hogwarts when almost everyone had left and only a few had remained. Even Ron and Hermione flew back home and despite their offer to harry, he didn't go along with them. In the last week at Hogwarts, he realised only a few Hufflepuff had remained, ravenclaw's table remained empty , only Draco and few Slytherin's at the Slytherin's table and a few of Gryffindor's who Harry didn't really knew. He had been staring at Draco quite awful lot, he had presumed one of these days Draco would've bought up something about what happened before war but he didn't. Quite frankly Draco looked far more distracted than anything else. It's not like Harry didn't find himself lost in thoughts but Draco looked worse somehow, almost the same how he looked back in 6th year.

It was exactly 5 days before they would've left for home when Harry gathered his courage and went to Slytherin's table. As soon as Draco saw Harry, he flinched at first but calmed down right away.

" how have you been ?" They both asked simultaneously . They smiled at each other before Draco asked him to go first.

" i- I'm not entirely sure. There's a part which feels fine but then there's this part of me which doesn't. They both kinda co-evolve " Harry replied thinking wisely of what to say

" you ?" He added

" i- same as you I suppose " Draco gave him a little smile .

They both fell silent, maybe even enjoying the fact that in the silence they weren't totally alone. The fatality of the war had left them only with each other, it was quite surprising how neither would've imagined life would turn to be this way but the truth was, right now nobody understood them better than each other.

" i- I- you must be wondering why I hadn't came to talk to you after t-that night ?" Draco finally mumbled . Harry shook his head. He understood Draco, he understood the situations they were both in but only a cruel man would be selfish enough to not give the other time for themselves.

" it doesn't feel the same anymore, does it ?" Harry asked. Draco shook his head. Nothing felt the same anymore. Almost as if nothing was real, as if it was a dream they didn't wanted to be awake from.

" Harry-"

" Draco-" they chuckled at the occurrence of the situation twice . This time Harry let Draco talk first.

" I know it's a bit too early to think of this stuff but w- you deserve a little break from all of it. I understand you wanting your time alone but I meant what I said that night. I meant each and every word of it. To be honest I was a-afraid you wouldn't su-survive but now that you have I don't know how to tell you how happy I am that you have "

Harry smiled at him lightly " Draco, you too deserve a break. You were as much as in the war as I was, and yes I do deserve a little break and I'm glad you meant your words that night because then I - I wouldn't had been sitting here. I know we come from a lot of different backgrounds but we're humans right and I would like to continue what we started that night. Maybe stick to our words ?" Harry asked carefully

" I'd like that " Draco smiled after a moment.

" are you sure though ?" Draco asked with concern . Harry nodded.

Harry decided that he didn't wanted to take Draco out on a fancy date but he wanted to make it seem like it meant something. He didn't want any wine or drinks or a fancy restaurant to take him to a date because none of it mattered, all those things didn't make up for how he wanted to treat Draco. He wanted it simple because that's how it is supposed to be now. Simple.

Harry waited outside the Great hall at 4 for Draco who was right on time and they fled off to the destination of the date. It was simple just as Harry had wanted it. It was a small picnic at the cliff side what you could see from the astronomy tower if you looked carefully.

" this is -"

" breathtaking ?"

" yeah " Draco nodded.

They finally sat down at the sheets Harry had sprawled just before he had come to pick up Draco. He had put the statis charm on the food so it was still warm .

" how did you come across this place ?" Draco finally asked as they had settled in

" it was back in 5th year. I used to come here with Hedwig. When supposedly Voldemort had control of my mind I used to feel well deserted- more isolated from anyone, almost angry so i used to just come here and well spend time here. Somedays I even wrote Sirius letter's from here. It bought peace " Harry explained. Draco watched Harry intently as he explained and he thought if he could only Harry in sunlight, he might be able to see his eyes shine differently.

" I'm sorry about si- I mean your godfather"Draco gave him a small smile

" you'll run out of sorry's if you're going to be sorry for people who have died in my life" Harry answered. Draco frowned

" it isn't funny "

" yeah - I just heard it out loud and it sounded insensitive of me " Harry replied and chuckled soon after , Draco joining along.

" I can Only imagine what must it be like for you " Draco consoled

" i- thanks I guess " Harry replied furrowing his eyebrows not sure what was the correct answer to it.

They sat for a few moments in silence until Draco broke it

" it doesn't feel real"

" it doesn't " Harry turned a little over to see draco placing his hand over the side of his neck In a weird way

" what are you doing ?" Harry asked curiously

" checking my pulse if I'm still alive, If all of it is actually real. Seems-"

" too good to be true . I had that thought right before this too " Harry answered for him.

" if you're doing that, check my pulse as well" Harry chuckled. Draco jokingly checked Harry's pulse and soon broke into content laughter.

" I'm glad we did this " Harry said . Draco smiled and nodded .

" I meant what I said that day Harry. I never really hated you but I was just bought up to hate you , you know. Sometimes you watch and learn from people around your house to not do the same thing as they did and sometimes we copy their path. Me being stupid enough copied my parents. Don't think badly of me -"

" I don't Draco and you don't have to explain me anything. It's all in the past now. You've made some questionable choices and quite frankly I wasn't the most pleasant to you either. We both reciprocated that feeling of hating each others Gut " Harry shrugged it off as if it didn't matter and it didn't.

Draco wasn't used to this sort of relationship or this sort of understanding. He was bought up to believe money and power was everything and things like love didn't matter but this was different. Draco wanted to understand everything, even if it takes his whole life.

They watched the sunset together with small conversations but mostly stealing glances at each other and looking forward and maybe eating at some point.

" does it feel different Harry ? Now that it's over ?" Draco finally asked something he had been dreaming about questioning ever since the war had ended.

" i- I don't think it has quite hit me. It feels different, it feels better not being attached with Voldemort anymore but there's so many things I'm still scared off and there's so much to look forward to. It feels different but someday's it doesn't. Before this I knew my life's motive but now, I just don't know " Harry replied thinking twice before choosing his words. Draco watched him in content. This Harry was different, Draco thought. This wasn't the chosen one or the saviour of the world, it was Harry, just Harry and he could spend hours just looking at harry.

" does it feel different to you?" Harry asked him

" I may come off badly but yes. There's some part of me that's happy that won't have to see that Red eyes narcissistic creature but then there's a part of me who knows so much is changing, who knows what I will have to face, things which I haven't yet which is inevitable. It scares me. It feels different but I don't know if it's a good thing or not " Draco told him lost in his thoughts.

" t- that was wise answer. But I don't think much would happen to you. I promise you that. You were just a kid, hell you still are. I know you're afraid they're gonna put you up in azkaban but I'm sure they won't " Harry replied carefully putting his hand over Draco's shoulder. Draco looked at harry but didn't say anything.

" you fought valiantly though " Draco said

" you sounded like Voldemort just now" Harry chuckled

" well can you blame. That man breathed around my neck " Draco chuckled and in a childish way they broke into laughter. And they laughed until their breath ran out.

And then they talked and no longer In an uncomfortable sort of way but in a nice causal way. Things about plans after this, or what was their favourite desert despite the fact they already knew that, or about which place would they like to visit. They talked about everything and nothing and this was their sort of perfect and they liked it.

It was simple but it was perfect because it was them.

Requests open

Day 4- the missing piece

Day 6 - pinned

[shintorikhazumi]

Trope 2: Accidental Marriage

Trope 2: Accidental Marriage- From: No Please

A/N: I might do a part 2 to this, maybe. Also, Sorry to the one who requested something else first. Still looking for a trope to match your description :’<, but I will get to it!! Please do submit um, specific tropes. That will also make it kinda easier :)). Thank you!

Sorry if this isn’t quite what you had in mind? I had fun though. Will try to stick closer to the theme next time ;-;. Really need to practice. This feels more like… unintended? Marriage? Then Accidental? Yep. I might just need to redo this prompt someday huehuehue. I’ve been burnt out of good ideas lately so. This is ;-; sorry. Realized too late, and couldn’t retract, rip.

This is not a short, it seems. I have failed. Both the short, and the prompt. I’m sorry. ;-;

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Trope 2: Accidental Marriage- From: No Please

“This… was not quite what I meant before when I said I needed a partner who could stand alongside me on stage forever.” Claudine muttered, still shocked as she played with the ring on her finger, beholding it with some sort of awe, and slight awkwardness.

“Is that so?” The question was followed by a thoughtful hum. “This was exactly what I had in mind, though.” Maya smiled flirtatiously across the table, act perfect as always as she pretended Claudine’s words and the migraine she currently sported did not hurt her as much as they actually did.

“Hmmm.” Claudine simply continued to scrutinize the jewelry that now adorned her finger, not sparing Maya a glance.

This made the latter deflate, confidence shrinking by the minute. Claudine… did she really dislike the situation all that much?

Maybe Maya should find this sudden, forced(?) romantic engagement weird as well. After all,

They were only best friends.

And best friends didn’t just wake up side-by-side, married, out of the blue.

-As much as Maya loved the mere idea of it.

The events of yesternight were surprisingly vivid and fresh in her mind; Claudine’s as well. This only served to feed the uncomfortable atmosphere and embarrassment between them as they tried to wrap their heads around the thought of them actually, legitimately, officially being married.

How had it even come to that point?

Well…

It all started with Maya’s celebratory party after a successful nation-wide tour for her new show. Claudine had come to watch the top star in all her glory on the closing night, and had gotten herself invited along with the cast afterwards while the pair had been exchanging pleasantries and the usual congratulations. Claudine had been pulled along so naturally, like she was meant to be with the group, and it wasn’t even on Maya’s request.

Maya was ever in awe of her former partner’s charisma, drawing her own cast to the French actress, as if she were their companion these past few months of dedicated rehearsals and shows.

She was happy, and just the slightest bit jealous. Of Claudine or her cast? Maya didn’t really know.

Another thing she did not know was that everyone knew something. That there was something different, different about Maya and Claudine, leading to this turn of events.

After months of dealing with a stoic Maya with minimal genuine emotions slipping by, they’d known in a heartbeat when things changed. Changed when Saijou Claudine, her best friend, was around. They’d have to be blind to not notice how Tendou Maya was always much more enthusiastic in practice whenever Claudine would drop by. Though of course, she was always perfect during any performance, whether in practice or the final thing.

But the troupe knew it was different. It just was. As unexplainable as it was.

There would be weeks when Claudine would never show up, and sometimes it felt like practice was a little tense. Maya was like a deprived pup, waiting on her owner, eyes darting to the door at the end of the practice hall any chance she’d get. She thought she was being discreet, but no. No, she was not.

By no means did her distraction ever weigh anyone down. Maya would die before letting something as trivial as feelings get to her. But… it was clear when her heart was in a place separate from the stage. It never did leave, but it occasionally wandered off, taking its steps farther and farther to where Claudine was as time went by.

Moments like those, the cast had learned to deal with. With how often Claudine came over, they’d all gotten to know each other enough to exchange numbers, and it was simply an easy matter of praying the woman wasn’t too busy for a quick video call, the troupe members shoving a smiling Claudine on their phone screen, the blonde tutting Maya and telling her to move her ass along and stop troubling the rest of the group.

They could just see the light beaming off of Maya even as she was being scolded; so happy, so pleased.

‘Best friends’ their ass.

She’d make a haughty, faux-prideful remark and Claudine would call her out on it, be her usual irritated self with the occasional “mechante va!” . Maya would laugh airily at her, before calming down and mumbling softly how she missed Claudine, how she wished she could pay her a visit- selfish as it sounded. Claudine would then apologize for being so busy, tell Maya that her schedule was hectic at the moment, but that she’d try to swing by one way or another soon. The cast would pretend they didn’t hear the longing in the pair’s tones over the phone, how Maya’s usually perfect posture would slip, frame slouching in poorly-hidden sorrow.

Being apart clearly tore at her. But what could anyone do? Maya had chosen the world of Takarazuka, and Claudine went to walk on broadway. It was surprising enough that they were able to still visit one another as often as they did, Maya surely having been on Claudine’s sets more than once, always welcome, and ever well-known.

They were inseparable, not only physically, but in public image and name as well.

And so with all this knowledge, it was only the obvious choice that Claudine would be invited as an honorary guest to the afterparty, right? No problems with that, right?

….right. Maybe.

Everything had been going swell at first. All was the norm when it came to these somewhat generic parties. There were the usual speeches, acknowledgements, some challenges, karaoke and games. Yes, games. And one game just so happened to swerve them completely off of the safe course.

Maya had been observing Claudine the whole night from where she was seated at the head of the table with important producers and guests. She tried her utmost to hide the annoyance at being interviewed after a long show, unable to enjoy the ambience of the festivities. Coupled with that were the people attempting to get with her, or at least suck up to her good graces. Albeit, she should be used to all this, with Claudine so near, yet so out of reach, it only served to tick her off each second that went by with these snakes of men and women coiling about her, choking her with their disingenuous praises.They were as acid in her ears, burning hot and unwelcomely painful.

The horrid collective concentration of their too-strong “fancy” perfumes with scents all jumbled and odd, along with all the alcohol they made her down (she willingly did so, if only to distract herself from all of them) made bile tickle the bottom of her throat, humiliation threatening to make its appearance.

‘Ah, how annoying.’

She’d much rather be next to one gorgeous French woman, standing alongside all her underrated castmates- these moneybags never gave their potentials a second glance, the idiots. She’d much prefer to be dancing the night away to the oddest of tunes, but enjoying each moment all the same with the rest of her new family, alongside one who had always been her family. And her home. And-... she would stop herself right there.

She hadn’t the right to claim Claudine like that. Not while she remained cowardly, concealing her affections each and every day. She shouldn’t. Not until she made the effort to be able to.

Maya sighed, downing another glass of beer. She was beginning to feel a migraine coming on. She needed a different distraction. One that hopefully did not involve her getting more drunk than she already was.

Who better a distraction than Saijou Claudine then? Beautiful, a sight for sore eyes, voice a pleasing timbre to the ears, aura radiant and warm. Maya sighed, feeling her stress melt away instantly the moment she’d placed her focus on her cherished partner. Now, if only she could call for her attention to save her, or maybe go to her and spend the rest of the night with- wait. Wait a second.

While observing Claudine intently, Maya had realized something. Maya, with all her competitive spirit, had taken note of the fact that Claudine had drunk one glass of alcohol more than Maya. How she knew this? Besides the number of empty glasses laid before the woman on a table as the troupe had currently advanced into a drinking competition, Maya had subconsciously been taking note of each time Claudine called for another drink when Maya managed to spare her a glance. And she always seemed to be taking in more and more!

Therefore, by her very sober mind’s standards, did this not mean that Claudine was trying- and actually being- superior? With the higher tolerance and capacity? Claudine was winning something! And that certainly wouldn’t do! For Maya was always the winner.

Yes! Maya now had the perfect reason to get out of this unwanted bind! She had to defend her honor! She had to maintain her winning streak! She had to best Claudine as she always did in any competition they had! It was tradition; everyone knew of their rivalry since the beginning of time. This was a valid excuse!

With not so much as a word of farewell to the blabbering buffoons she’d be leaving behind, Maya made her exit, stumbling momentarily- whoops, was that supposed to happen?- as she moved out of her seat towards where Claudine currently stood. She had left the drinking game she’d been a part of moments prior, now occupied in talking with one of the show’s directors who wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the affairs that Maya had been drowning in, it seemed. And he should have been the one to be receiving all these… those people. He made Maya his scapegoat, the damned old man.

“Tch.”

She observed for a moment as they continued chatting, one moment looking serious, then the next, laughing as if they were old time friends. Was their conversation of great significance at the moment? Maybe. Maybe Maya shouldn’t cut in. But Claudine was animatedly communicating with him, gestures and smiles and all, and something stirred within her at the thought of her best friend so close to this man. Claudine looked like she was having fun. Too much fun. So Maya thought it would be best to interrupt them. Right now.

“Ma Claudine!” She hiccuped, covering her mouth in surprise, and giggling a little ‘sorry’, very amused by the sound that had slipped from her own lips.

“Hmm?” The woman turned around before her eyes widened, moving forward just in time to catch Maya in her arms as she slumped forward. “Maya?! What are-” Her scent… though still as pleasant as always, was mixed with something Claudine didn’t quite fancy as much.

“Claudine? Oh! Claudine! Greetings, my lovely sta-”

Maya had leaned in closer to do who knows what, but Claudine was not having it. Not right now. She pushed her face away, still holding the girl up by the waist. “Maya! You’re drunk! So drunk!” She screeched, already requesting for a glass of water that the director went and fetched from a passing waiter, a glass of relief that Maya adamantly rejected, stomping her foot down with a little whine.

“No! Am not!” She slurred, giggling some more. “But maybe you are!” She poked at Claudine’s chest. “And so you won’t accept my challenge!”

“Challenge?” Claudine shook her head, not wanting to be distracted from the matter at hand. The matter in her hands being an incredibly wasted Maya. “Maya, I think you’ve had a little too much to-”

“You’ve had too much to drink? Haha, I thought so. You’re looking a little red, my dear.” Maya drawled, dragging a manicured nail along Claudine’s cheek, lightly scratching.

“No,” Claudine sighed. “I am very much sober, thank you.” She shook her head fondly. “Come on now, be a good girl for me and take this water.” She tipped the glass the director had passed her, getting Maya to drink somehow.

“I’d say thank you-” Maya exclaimed, pointing a finger into the air, still slumped against Claudine. “But times like these, I can’t be grateful to the enemy. Saijou Claudine!” She patted the said woman’s cheek, maybe a little too hard. It sounded like it would leave a mark.

“Maybe you need more water.” Claudine grit her teeth, very willing to douse Maya with a pitcher with the way she was acting at the moment.

“I challenge you-”

“Are you not listening?!”

“To a drinking contest!”

“I just told you you’ve had enough-”

“Scared?”

“Maya, if you drink any more, you’ll-”

“You’ll lose to me.” Maya grinned, evil and conniving. “Wouldn’t want that now would we? Haven’t won lately, dear Claudine.” Maya chuckled, lips leaning close to a now shaking Claudine, irritation and fury building. Maya just had to add the spark to the ready fuel. “- or at all.”

“You…. you… mechante va! ” Claudine grabbed Maya by the wrist, taking her to the drinking table, seating her opposite of herself. “I’ll make sure you eat your words. Or well… drink them bitterly. More bitter than any alcohol or your tears. Be prepared, Tendou Maya!”

“Always am, Saijou Claudine. ”

//-//-//-//-//

Ten mugs in and Maya was toeing the edge of consciousness. Or lack of it. Her mind was floaty, hazy, dull.

Still, she could not lose. Not to anyone. Especially not to Claudine. She had to always stay on her toes, and keep Claudine’s eyes on her… she’d also like it if they met her own and they’d stare into one another’s colored gems, the sunset’s rays hitting Claudine so perfectly as they had dinner by the beach, the sound of waves beating against the coast as Maya got down on one knee and- that was not important right now.

Maya had to get through one more drink. She shook irrelevant thoughts out of her head. She needed to focus. Focus.

Focus on… Claudine and her pretty pink eyes, almost identical to the flush of her face, lips parted slightly as she breathed gently over the chilled glass, droplets condensing on the outside and rolling down, and gently falling onto the waxed wood of the table.

‘ Ah… you’re just so… ‘

“Beautiful.”

“What was… that?” Claudine got out, tolerance slipping after so many rounds of drinking, including the ones from her previous match up.

“If I win this… there’s a reward, right?” Maya changed the subject, hoping Claudine was drunk enough to truly not have registered her little slip up. Now was not the time for her desires to be made known. She took in a deep breath of air while their drinks were being refilled. “There is. Right?” Violets pinned Claudine in place, daring her to say no.

“Mmph.” Claudine nodded sloppily, reaching for the full glass, bringing it closer and staring into liquid death. This little contest might just be going too far. Claudine still had work the next day. She knew this. Maya knew this too. Claudine knew that Maya knew this. And yet, here they were, probably way past midnight and into the early morning, drowned in intoxication and pride. And yet, “Whatever you want.”

Maya had never been so irresponsible in her life, to get this inebriated. She knew this was a first for Claudine as well. They were usually so careful and calculated, and just… not this pair of reckless drunkards, consuming glass after glass, staring into each other’s souls, no one willing to back down.

“Whatever… I w-want… you sh-say…” Maya drawled, tapping a finger against her cheek, looking to be in thought.

“Obvious-ugh-... obviously… within my power to give.” Claudine laid her head back against her seat, breathing heavily through her nose and huffing out strongly, hoping she wouldn’t just spill her guts right then and there.

She was going to fucking win this.

“And if you won? Whaateveeerr could Claudine Saijou even need, or want in this world?” Maya giggled, taunting. “I’ll give it to you. All of it. Even if it were to be the moon that you wanted, or a star.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not as unrealistic as you.” Claudine waved.

The twentieth glass glared at them through the table.

Maya could barely manage to read Claudine’s body language, but she knew the girl was at her limit. Well, she was too. Her beautiful best friend remained staring into the cup.

“Giving up?”

Claudine shot her a glare, one that sent electricity coursing all throughout Maya’s entire being. She loved it. She loved it so much. This feeling, that gaze, that Claudine. She loved her.

And all Maya wanted to do was be able to tell her without fearing rejection. Why she ever did was stupid. She knew Claudine, and Claudine knew her. They knew each other’s minds, almost as if they shared them. She knew Claudine’s kind and gentle heart. She would feel her affections, sweetness, and genuine thoughts in every action.

So why was she so hesitant?

Why did she still think that Claudine might not return her feelings?

Maybe it was because she knew she could be too egotistical and assuming; assuming that everyone loved her, and always would. Because they just did.

But Claudine wasn’t everyone.

Claudine didn’t fawn over her every gesture, or plaster her posters along her wall, or cry out for autographs, or send her billions of gifts and mails and extravagant whatevers.

Claudine just stayed by her side. Even after seeing how weak Maya truly was.

Even now, in her insecure, lowly, shameful state.

Claudine loved her.

Maybe.

Maya wasn’t brave enough to confirm that sober, so maybe this little contest reaped good benefits for her after all.

She had a chance if she won. Yes. She’d use the reward to request Claudine to go out on a date with her, then they’d go to this quaint little cafe, just like the ones Claudine loved in back in France, and Maya would get her a dress in a shop, and take her on a boat ride and-

“Maya.”

“Do you like the swan boats, or the wooden ones?”

“...huh?”

“O-oh.” Snapping out of her reverie, Maya asked Claudine to repeat her words, apologizing for being absent-minded.

“Iiit’s… it’s alright.” Claudine blinked, brow raised in question, before shaking her head in dismissal. “Anywaaay,” she sighed. “I… said I’ll sh-stop. Tch. I give in. You win.”

Claudine sounded a lot less drunk then Maya, but maybe the glass of water in her hand, as well as the lack of people around them explained that Maya had been out of it for a while. Really, Maya was so far gone from the world that she hadn’t noticed most of her troupe and guests had already headed on home. Even the bartender who had been serving them up to this point was already wiping down the far ends of the counter, preparing to close up.

She would have been concerned about all that, if not for one little detail...

“Araaaa~Ara, Shaijou-shaannn~” She grinned. “Admitting de-*hic*-feat is so unlike y- ack”

Claudine retracted the hand that had just chopped Maya on the head. “Quiet. Drink your water and let’s go home.”

“Eeehhh...”

Claudine sighed. She barely had enough of a mind to be thinking straight right now. She really should have stopped this stupid little thing sooner. She was lucky enough to notice that Maya had very much passed out seated, and she knew she was on the brink of losing her rationality as well. So she just wanted them both to get home in one piece before she lost all semblance of controlled thought. They needed to be home safe. Home separately, not together of course, not that they lived together. Not that Claudine minded , but… oh God. She was really getting there.

“You haven’t forgoootteeen about my… -eugh- ahh… reward though? Have you?” Maya managed, wiping the drool from her cheek as she asked for another glass of water.

“I’m starting... to think you’ll be the one t-to forget it very soon.” Claudine sighed, feeling her eyes begin to droop, rubbing her face with her palms. “Buuut... whatever.  Get it over with. What ish-is it that you want, insufferable woman?” She still tried to maintain her coherent speech, shamed enough for losing their little bet.

Through her exasperated tone, Maya still heard fondness and sprinkles of mirth, Claudine smiling at her gently, even if her brows were furrowed. Ever the good sport. Maya loved her like this too.

“Sooo? Hurry up? We don’t... have all the time in the world here?

Right. Maya’s reward. A response.

Drinking more of her water, she prepared her tongue to speak the necessary words.

‘I want to date you. I want to go out with you. Please go out with me. Please be my girlfriend, please be mine.’

“Maya?” Claudine was beginning to get worried as Maya just stared at her blankly.

‘I love you.’

“Oi. Tendou Maya!”

‘You’re beautiful, inspiring and amazing.’

“Maya? Ma Maya?”

‘I love you. I want to be with you. For a long long time. Please go out with me. Say it Maya. God damn, SAY IT!’

“Tendou Maya!” Claudine shook her by the shoulders, very concerned now by the lack of response, that concern quickly turned into surprised confusion as Maya blurted out her request.

“How about your hand in marriage?”

“...”

‘ What did she just…’

Claudine was in too much shock, too drunk to comprehend what the hell Maya had just asked. So just as stupidly, she replied,

“Sure whatever.”

Maya felt herself slightly sober up suddenly. Wait… didn’t she just say… and Claudine said... “Is… Is that…. Are you shue-su… sure?? Are you-”

Claudine sighed, headache coming on quick. She hoped she had aspirin in her bag. Or car. Or- ah gosh dang it, she wasn’t in the safest state to drive. “Go on ahead, you idiot.”

“But…” Maya tried to reach out for Claudine, still fairly surprised. “What about yoouur… feehlinshh-whoops.” She had stumbled forward again, Claudine catching her the same way she did earlier that night.

Just a lot less sober.

Claudine sighed, taking a sip from her water glass on the counter, hoping to keep her mind for moments longer. Downing one big gulp, she decided maybe it wasn’t so bad to be honest from time to time. Maya was a lot less sharp- scratch that. She was completely dense when it came to Claudine, it seemed. Or maybe she was pretending not to know of the blonde’s feelings for her. Whichever it was, Claudine had no better chance to tell Maya something she’d otherwise never allow the light of day to see.

The truth of her feelings. It was fine. Nothing would be amiss after this, even if Maya understood it now. Tomorrow would be a normal day. So Claudine just needed to tell her honestly, and wholeheartedly, try to make these feelings known tonight. Not that Maya would remember this in the morning. Not that Claudine wanted her to.

This water tasted funny.

But Claudine needed to confess first.

“Don’t you know I’ve…”

‘Huh? What is this… why is everything suddenly so hazy and…’

“likaefgfin you fer so”

“Whaaat was thaaat?” Maya replied a little too loud for Claudine’s eardrums to take.

She barely registered the bartender cursing under his breath, apologizing for leaving that drink on the counter fairly close to Claudine’s water. It was supposed to be his. A strong drink for him to unwind with.

“Ah, Fuck it.”

//-//-//-//-//

“I have to admit, as weird as it feels, I’m impressed.” Claudine whistled, still looking at the metal band wrapped about her finger, fitting perfectly, design simple, yet intricate- and how did that even work. A beautiful purple sapphire rested at the apex of its curve. Claudine admired it carefully. “I really am impressed. How you managed to arrange all this, drunk. Rings and all, even marriage papers.”

Claudine sorted through her memories of the day hours prior to their current afternoon meal time on Claudine’s apartment balcony, admiring the sunset that was closing in. Fragments of images of them walking up to an empty church with Maya shaking down a priest to marry them haunted her recall.

Claudine wasn't all that religious, but Dear Lord, forgive them both.

Claudine felt the intensity of second-hand embarrassment wash over her. Really. What had they been doing at six a.m.?

Right. They had been busy trying to get married.

They even sat in front of the supreme court, waiting for it to open come eight-thirty in the morning. How Maya convinced people there to get them to do the procedures that fast was a mystery in and of itself, but in barely two hours, they were walking onto the street, hand-in-hand, somehow still barely conscious and far from sober enough, with the sun blaring in their eyes, sleep-deprived, and now officially married.

“I still can’t believe your crazy amounts of luck, to have come across a travelling trader. And these rings…” Claudine stroked them gently. “Exotic and from a different country, huh…” She murmured. “Hope they aren’t fake.”

Maya choked on the tea she had been sipping, tongue burnt suddenly. “I-I’ll have you know I have a good eye for these kinds of things.”

Claudine merely hummed again, stirring Maya’s anxiousness up even worse. Maya thumbed the onyx on her own wedding ring, biting her lip nervously, a question on the tip of her tongue escaping after being held back since they’d regained consciousness.

“Do you mind it? Being married to me?” She whispered, hopefully loud enough for Claudine to hear. Or not in case she had an unfavorable answer for Maya that she didn’t know if she wanted to hear. “Does it bother you?”

Claudine’s eyes lifted up, a sparkle in them, and a few shadows swirling about. Maya read it as doubt, but with a conviction. Claudine had something planned. What it was waslost on Maya, but clearly she was about to say something important-

“I mean, I love you. So I hardly mind this arrangement, out of order as it is.” Claudine laughed. “And I’m fairly sure you feel the same way, considering you were the one to propose this. Quite literally propose. So,” She tried her best to offer a reassuring smile, finally looking Maya’s way to meet her eyes and tell her what they both thought about this- “Maya?”

The sight that greeted her was a flabbergasted Tendou Maya, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I… you… I- you- me, l-l”

Claudine blinked, taking Maya’s image all in. Before she broke,

“...pfft- Ahahahaha, you should see your face, Tendou Maya! You look like you can’t believe what I just said!”

“I… I-”

“If you say you actually can’t believe it, I’ll be incredibly heartbroken, you know?” Claudine wiped tears from her eyes; she propped her arm on the table, chin resting on an open palm. “I’d cry a river.” She giggled, but they both knew there was a truth to her words.

Maya was still at a loss. And Claudine was only teasing her more and more. It was frustrating that Maya couldn’t even manage a word out, she couldn’t even tease her back to regain the upper hand-

Wait… didn’t this mean…

“Oh my god.”

“Hmm?” Claudine cocked a brow. “Are you praying or something?”

“You’ve won.”

“Eh?”

“You’ve actually won.”

“Won? Won what, exactly?” Clearly, this victory wasn’t registering in Claudine’s mind, as she still gazed upon Maya tenderly, a soft blush on her face as she lovingly made fun of the girl. Her smile was of a maiden in love, happy and satisfied, and Maya…

“Or am I the one whose won?” A winner to be married to the most wonderful person in the world- unintentional as it was. Maya knew she’d do it all over again. Intentionally, this time.

“If you’re talking about winning me over, then isn’t it a little too late to realize it now, Tendou Maya?” She chuckled, taking a sip of her tea.

Maya blinked. “Maybe.”

“Eh? Not that?”

“But maybe you can take that as your first victory.” Maya’s usual flirtatious smile had returned, but there was a sincerity to it that made Claudine’s heart flutter in her chest, Maya’s eyes so warm adding to the butterflies within her.

“A-and what… what “reward” do I gain from all of this?” She stuttered, suddenly unable to keep her eyes locked with Maya’s.

“My, what a silly question, Ma Claudine.” Maya reached a hand over, taking Claudine’s ringed one in her own. “For haven’t you already won me?”

“...you really are infuriating.”

“Infuriatingly charming?”

“I should not be as calm and accepting as I am in-and-of this situation. I just got proposed to and married in the span of so few hours.” Claudine shook her head, almost in disbelief. Almost. There were too many things grounding her in this reality, proving to her that she indeed was bonded to Maya in sickness and in health.

“That wasn’t a no, and don’t change the subject like that.” Maya laughed, standing up from her seat and walking around the table, standing behind Claudine for a while, unsure if she should proceed with her actions.

“Quit being weird and standing behind me like a stalker. Just hug me if that’s what you were planning on doing. You already did it before all this, what’s stopping you now?”

“Th-things are different this time, clearly I’d be a little nervous!.”

“Wuss.” Claudine teased, but her heart was beating way too loudly in her chest.

“Ever the sharp tongue.” Maya sighed fondly, wrapping her arms around Claudine from behind, kissing her on the temple.

“You like it.”

“I do, Mrs. Tendou.”

“Hmm? Are you still drunk? You got a little confused there, Tendou Maya.” Claudine chuckled, a hand reaching for Maya’s left and kissing the back of it, before kissing the ring.

“Not at all? Are you forgetting something? Tendou Claudine?”

“Ten- ah…” Claudine’s face burst into flames, the realization finally sinking in. That she was actually married to the person she loved for so long. So unconventionally too. She would have been consumed by these emotions, but then again, there was something wrong about that statement that stirred up her competitive nature. “Why do I take your name?”

“Well, obviously, I-”

“Saijou Maya.”

Both their brows twitched.

“Yes, that just…”

“Doesn’t sound quite right.”

“Tendou Claudine does not work for me either.” Claudine huffed.

“Alright, alright.” Maya laughed. “Mrs. Saijou, would that work for you?”

Claudine turned to give her a bright smile, actually liking how that sounded. “Yes, it would, Mrs. Tendou.”

Staring into one another’s eyes, they felt that familiar magnetic pull they always seemed to have between them, drawing them ever closer. They had always tried to fight against it before, afraid of what the next moment would bring, but now… there was none of that fear. Only reassurance and love.

“May I kiss you, Saijou Claudine?” Maya whispered, softly against Claudine’s lips that were now barely touching her own, breaths mingling and warm.

“You’ve already married me. So why not?”

Soft and teasing, chasing and embracing, their first kiss was all sorts of wonder, and colorful in every way. Their first kiss, and it had happened after they had gotten married.

It truly was out of order, the way they did things. Odd and different, just as everyday was when they were together. Never dull, never getting old. Always something new and changing. Never ordinary. But really, when were they ever the ordinary pair, Maya and Claudine?

Pulling away, Maya laughed. Laughed so hard tears spilled from her eyes until her laughter turned to chuckles, and into sobs, all of joy.

“I love you.”

Claudine felt herself tear up as well, getting up from her seat to hug Maya in full, both of them holding onto one another, neither willing to let go. Whispered reassurances and small kisses brought them down from their emotional high, calming them both as they swayed about in a slow dance on the terrace. They shared words, not really meaning anything at the moment. A few jokes, a few feelings, a little love.

It truly was a wonder how perfect everything fit, and felt. Like it was all natural, the pair so easily getting used to this new lifestyle as sudden as it was.

The stars shone overhead as night fell upon the dancers, the cool breeze wrapping them in its refreshing embrace. Nature provided them their music to a well-practiced dance that only they knew, and Maya had never felt more content in a moment than now. Truly, it was a perfect end to their perfect wedding day. But something seemed to be missing...

“Honeymoon?”

“...”

“Not here, obviously. Bahamas?”

“...”

“Claudine?”

Face heated and hidden in Maya’s neck, Claudine mumbled, “You truly have no shame…” She groaned, but added, “...Only if you’re paying.”.

Maybe some things needed the normal getting used to, after all.

Notes:

A/N: Might make a part 2 if I feel like it. This one was fun! ~Shintori Khazumi

[itstittycitybaby]

Flirty (Lin Beifong x Reader) Part 2

 a/n: had to start typing this as soon as I finished episode 5. holy fuck. im. im just not okay. as im putting the tags to post this i just wanna say. i cannot keep waiting. im gonna fucking explode.

Lin’s fist clenched tightly around the fork she was holding. Her lips were pulled into a frown and her green eyes narrowed dangerously. No one at the table paid her any mind as they chatted amongst themselves. Better than having the avatar throwing more questions at her.

Lin glared into the food in front of her. Suyin’s chef might be a good one, but that didn’t stop Lin from being spiteful. She’d rather starve than eat her sister’s food. “Lin,” her sister started, a frown over her face. “If you keep staring daggers into your plate you’ll burn it.” 

She scoffed, “Just like how you burned our family to the ground.” “Not this again,” Suyin murmured, closing her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingers. Lin felt Korra’s gaze. She could tell the avatar wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Korra was never the one to mind her damn business. None of the imbeciles were.

Everyone fell silent as they heard the door open. They all went slack jawed at the man in front of them. Lin needed a drink. “Varrick?” Asami looked at the man quizzingly. “Hey everyone,” he answered cheerfully. Everyone besides Lin stared at the man dumbfounded. She stabbed her fork into her food with force but no one seemed to notice.

Zarrick informed everyone as they ate about Suyin’s oh so great hospitality and the second chance she had given him. It made Lin want to laugh but she chose to stare a hole into his head.

“Alright enough,” Lin yelled, slamming her fists down onto the table. “I’m trying to keep the avatar safe and you’re harboring a criminal?!” Lin couldn’t believe it. The nerve of her sister to bring them here and force her to eat dinner. Suyin knew what she had done. And Lin hadn’t even been given a damn apology.

“Ease up Lin,” Suyin said softly. “Varrick’s made a few mistakes in his past. It doesn’t mean he should pay for it for the rest of his life. People change.”

“You haven’t,” Lin spat out. The room fell silent. They all watched her nervously, anticipating her next move. Suyin looked unfazed by Lin’s outburst. She hated the eyes staring at her, picking her apart. She felt like a damn kid again. “What are you looking at,” Lin barked, leaving her seat. She flung the chair with her hands, pushing it onto the ground. It clattered onto the floor. Out of the corner of Lin’s eye Asami flinched. Shaking her head she dashed towards the door.

“Sorry I’m late guys, I was busy-” Lin snapped her head up. You. Your voice. You were here. The door shut with a muffled sound behind you. Your eyes widened and there were two birds on your shoulders. They squwaked amongst themselves and fluttered about. The birds were distressed. A travel bag hung on your back and there were scrolls of paper sticking out at the top. 

“So glad you could join us,” Suyin said cheerfully. “Lin,” you whispered. A smile stretched your face and your eyes were shushed with tears. Lin’s eyes were wide with surprise. Her throat started to choke up and close. Your smile dropped and your brows furrowed in concern at the tears in her eyes.  Lin swept past you and a metal cable wrapped around the door, slamming it behind her.

*****

The food was delicious. “This is so good,” you said, mouthfuls between food. Suyin chuckled, “Good. Was getting here easy?” You shrugged, as you devoured a roll. The buttery taste and the fluffy texture made you moan. “It was okay I guess. Paragliding was half the journey.” Suyin’s brows furrowed and she rested her hand on your shoulder. “If I had known you were paragliding I would’ve come for you myself.” “It’s fine,” you reassured her, taking a gulp of your water. “I was out in the middle of nowhere anyway.”

“You were always one to isolate yourself. (Y/N), meet avatar Korra.” You peeked around Suyin. There, a fit younger girl sat beside Suyin. She waved at you, “Hi! It’s nice to meet you.” You grinned, sending her a wink. Her cheeks turned slightly pink, causing you to chuckle. “I’m (Y/). Inventor, architect, and old friend of the Beifongs.” 

“The (Y/N)?” You turned to the excited voice. A slightly chubbier man looked at you with his green eyes, twinkling with excitement. “Yup. The very same.” “You’re the one who made the probending arena!” You smiled, “You’re right! Not one of my proudest creations.” “Nonsense, “ Suyin tutted. “Without you there wouldn’t be a probending arena. Give yourself some credit.” You smirked, “Always the flatterer Suyin. There’s a couple things I would like to make enhancements on. Though, I won’t have the chance.”

The younger man sighed sadly. “I wish we could still do it?” “We?” “Uh yea! Me and my brother were pro bending for a while. Won the tournaments thanks to Korra!” You flickered between Korra and him. “I bet you three were amazing!” He nodded enthusiastically, “The very best!” “I don’t know about that Bolin,” a man with dark hair and soft brown eyes interjected.

“You must be the brother,” you mused, eyes glittering with amusement. “Yea. I’m Mako. He’s Bolin,” he confirmed, jutting his thumb and gesturing between the two of them. “Mako and Bolin,” you murmured. “Great to meet you!” 

*****

After dinner you went to find Lin. Suyin offered for you to tag along with her and Korra to her study to chat. You declined politely, but promised the two of you would catch up soon. You shivered as the cool air hit your face. The cold had never been one of your strong suits. It was something Lin used to tease you about. Lin. You hoped she was okay. Seeing her again made your heart ache. It was a slap in the face of what could’ve been. If you hadn’t been so selfish, it could’ve gone differently. Now she was tougher than you’d ever seen her. What had happened while you were gone? Azure and Ruby were already sleeping in your room for the night. You promised Opal that you’d introduce the two of them to her tomorrow. She seemed so excited and happy to hold them. It made your aching heart feel a bit better to know that someone appreciated them. Bo and Bao would’ve loved this place.

“Is that a blue parakeet?” Your eyes snapped to a younger girl sitting by Bolin. She too had green eyes and black hair that framed her face. Her feautures resembled Suyin’s. “Mhm,” you confirmed, digging into the desert with your spoon. “This is Azure. He’s very...demanding,” you grumbled. Azure hopped on your shoulder and sunk his talons in. You hissed, sending him a glare. The girl giggled, awing Ruby as she stayed put on the table. “I’ve alway liked parakeets,” she said softly. “I’ve never seen one in person.” “Well, would you like to hold him?” “Really?!” Her green eyes lit up and an excited smile streched her face. “Totally!” “Now now Opal,” Suyin chided, “You’ll have time for that later. We still have some things to discuss.”

*****

Lin couldn’t believe it. You were here. It had been so long and you just...showed up....out of the blue. She choked on her tears as the memories came rushing back. You had left her. You wanted to go travel and learn more knowledge about the world. After all this time, after all these years, Lin still loved you. That’s what scared her the most. She loved you. Even when she had dated Tenzin Lin still wanted you. The feelings never went away, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. All these emotions were bubbling up and she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. Lin felt sick and tired. Confronting her emotions and facing the past was like shoving her hand down her throat and pulling out her entrails.

Seeing Suyin again and being forced to remember the scar that haunted her  was difficult enough. Then, the spirits had to add bringing her ex lover into her life. The one that got away. Her fingers clenched the newspaper tightly. It crinkled among the edges from the tight grip Lin held. Her vision blurred from the tears that threatened to fall. Not now, we aren’t going to cry about this anymore.

The sound of her door opening made her snap up. Korra and Suyin’s daughter, Opal, stood at the door. Lin sighed, setting the newspaper down onto the coffee table. Hopefully, they weren’t able to see the tears in her eyes. Rising up from her chair, Lin turned to look at them. “What is it now,” Lin huffed, crossing her arms. Opal’s gaze shifted nervously to Korra and then to Lin. “Out with it.” 

“I’m...sorry being here is very hard for you...but I appreciate it,” the girl started, sending a nervous smile towards Lin. “When I had heard you were here I was excited. I’ve heard so much about you and I would like to get to know you more.” She came closer to Lin and fidgeted with her hands. She bit her lip nervously and carefully chose her words. “I know my family can be...crazy and ..overwhelming sometimes. But I would like for you to be a part of it.”

Silence. Opal shifted nervously and swallowed, waiting for Lin’s answer. “Get out.” She snapped up, facing Lin. “What?” “Get. Out.” Her eyes filled with tears and Opal’s lip quivered. She swept past Korra and left.

“What the hell is your problem,” Korra snapped, hands waving around for emphasis. The anger in Lin’s veins threatened to snap. Her chest felt hot and there was a prickling sensation inside of her. Lin tittered over the edge of the cliff. She was already angry and hurt. She didn’t want to accidentally hurt Korra. “Why don’t you focus on fixing the world instead of my family’s problems,” Lin seethed, eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare. The air sunk thickly between the avatar and Lin. 

“Su was right,” Korra said softly. Her fists clenched as she looked to the ground. “You’re never gonna change.” Korra settled her blue eyes on Lin and glared. “You’re always going to be a bitter old, lonely woman.” She turned and left quietly. Lin faced the wall, turning her back to the door. The tears she tried so hard to fight were flowing freely down her cheeks. Lin choked on a whimper and brought her hands to her face. Once again, she weeped over her family. The loss of the love and warmth she once had. Once again, she cried over you.

****

Opal ran past you crying. You fought the urge to go after her. She was a bright girl who was very sweet. But right now you had to find Lin. You could comfort Opal tomorrow. Pace set into a jog, you got closer to what you assumed was your destination. There was a door open and light poured out onto the pavement. Your instincts screamed at you to hide or run. Instead, you crouched and crept your way towards the mysterious door. You furrowed your brows and pulled out one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. The combat boots you had on were silent against the pavement and you hid in the shadows. Still got it, you couldn’t help but think smugly.

“You’re always going to be a bitter old, lonely woman.” Your breath hitched. Korra. Rage. The rage blinded you from the colour of red. It slammed into your vision and the silence rang in your ears. The sound of footsteps shook you out of it. Jumping out into the open, you put away your dagger. “Y/N?” You curled your lips at the avatar’s voice. Punching her into the ground wouldn’t do you any good. It didn’t stop you from imagining it. “Avatar,” you responded, curtly, pushing past her. Your teeth were gritted and your fists were clenched. How dare she talk to Lin like that? Korra sighed, having enough bullshit today and shook it off.

If you thought seeing Lin hurt, the sight in front of you crumbled your heart into pieces. The door closed softly behind you, not making a sound. Your boots were soundless as you made your away to her trembling form. Lin’s posture tensed at the feeling of another presence there with her. She snapped her head to you. Her eyes were red and there were tears falling on her cheeks.The redness and the tears made her beautiful green eyes shine more. “What,” Lin snapped, “Come here to mock me? Tell me I should forgive Suyin and make friends with her? That I’m weak and insufferable?”

“Oh Lin,” you sighed, voice slightly breaking. Her eyes bulged. There were tears in your eyes as you sank down with her. “What happened to you?” Lin didn’t say anything as she studied your face. There was warmth and concern simmering in your eyes. You were still as beautiful as the day you left. “I’m so sorry Lin. You deserved better.”

The fresh tears fell. I’m sorry. Lin choked a sob. Spreading your arms wide, you pulled her into a tight embrace. The black crop top you wore was soft against Lin’s cheek. She laid against your red trousers and cried. “I’m here Lin, I’m here,” you whispered into her hair while rocking her back and forth.

Lin sniffled, “You left me. You left me.” You bit your trembling lip and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I know. And I’m so sorry Lin. But I’m here. I’m here to stay.” A sob clawed its way out of Lin’s throat. You smelt just the same as you always had. “Why are you here,” she croaked, shifting to look into your eyes. That’s when Lin noticed the scars on your face. A nasty one that cut through you lip and another one through your brow. Your eyes drifted to the scar on her cheek. Cupping her face gently you ghosted your fingers across it. Your soft touches made Lin’s eyes water even more. “I wanted to talk to you. But now’s not a good time huh?” Lin chuckled, despite the tears. “Always one for bad timings Flirty.” A huff of laughter left your lips. “I guess some things never change.”

Lin didn’t say anything. The two of you stared into each other. Your heart pounded and your hands started to feel a little clammy. Maybe the two of you had a chance? “What is it you want to talk about?” Lin’s body was awkward against your smaller frame. Your legs were folded under her and Lin’s body was turned at a weird angle. It was a bit uncomfortable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Another time,” you murmured softly. “Right now you should get some sleep.” Lin nodded and you let her go so she could get up. Taking this as your cue to leave, you slowly got up. Your joints ached and your ass throbbed from the sitting on the floor An “oof” left your lips. Lin laughed softly, “Not as young as you used to be.” You smiled, “But still damn sexy.”

Lin snorted and rolled her eyes. She headed to where you assumed was her bedroom. You shifted awkwardly before deciding to leave. It was your cue right? Besides, it was a weird situation to be in. Yet, it still felt so normal.

“Stay. Please.” You turned around, hand hovering over the door handle. “You want me to stay.” Lin sighed, “Just..forget it.” “No!” She turned to you waiting expectantly. “I was just...surprised is all,” you mumbled. “I-I didn’t think you’d want me to stay.” Lin’s brows furrowed, “Of course I want you to stay. Why wouldn’t I?” Because I still love you. And I’m pretty sure you don’t love me too. “Dunno,” you said. A grin stretched across your face. A perfect time to change the subject. “Beifong, if you wanted me to sleep over you could’ve just asked.” 

Lin sighed, rolling her eyes. You could see the slight pinkish colour that bloomed on her cheeks. Crossing her arms she gruffed out, “You’re sleeping on the couch.” “Got it Chief,” you replied, saluting. “Don’t make me regret it.” You smiled at her and nodded. The corner of Lin’s lips twitched up but she kept her face neutral. “Night Lin,” you said softly, settling down onto the couch. 

“Goodnight.”

[drangues]

Point of No Return (Raised Together AU)

Dazai Osamu is twelve years old when he commits his first real crime.

In the future, he will rarely remember crimes of this magnitude, regardless of how bloody or brutal they will end up being- In the end, they all blur together, and when asked, he’d say he couldn’t care more about one or the other. Which man died screaming over what isn’t something that affects him.

(In the far future, he will rarely remember crimes of this magnitude, though not for lack of trying, and not for lack of regret.)

But this crime- His first crime- Will always, always stick with him.

(This crime, even in the far future, is one he feels no true regret over.)

He remembers that it began with blood.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Nakajima Atsushi has been gone for twenty-two hours, thirty-four minutes, and seventeen seconds by the time Dazai decides that he needs to figure out where the Headmaster has taken his closest- And only, if he’s being honest- Friend.

(Yes, he had been keeping track of the time.

Yes, he has not learned That Man’s name. He refuses to.)

It was, admittedly, a very risky decision on his part- After all, if he was caught after hours, looking for the Headmaster’s favorite unfavorite child, it wouldn’t be him that would get punished. He learned, after the first few times he tried to intervene, about how That Man seemed to enjoy punishing Atsushi for “corrupting” the other children.

(He remembers when he realized. The stench of burnt flesh still feels like it clings to him, and the echos of Atsushi’s screams ring in his ears when he’s alone.

Dazai has found that all he can do for him is be well once they see each other again. Someone needs to clean his wounds.)

Nonetheless, finding Atsushi was a risk he had to take- Punishments normally took half of this time at most, provided it wasn’t a full moon (Look into that, he reminds himself, why then- But no, no, not important-). That it was taking this long over something so stupid was… Concerning.

He slips out of his room.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It doesn’t take Dazai much longer to figure out where That Man has placed Atsushi, though getting there is another matter entirely- The orphanage is a big place, after all, and if he gives away what he’s trying to do, it could make things worse.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to find any keys once he gets there- Dazai has long become used to picking locks, and the ones at the orphanage are hardly new.

The basement door creaks as it swings open, and he holds his breath for what must be a minute while he waits and sees if anyone heard.

Nothing.

He sneaks down the stairs.

(It was what he found at the bottom that broke him.)

xxx——xxx——xxx

The first thing he notices is that Atsushi is curled up in the center of the room, shaking like a leaf and either entirely unaware of his presence or too terrified to care.

The second is the small, dark puddle under Atsushi’s tiny body.

It smells like rusted iron.

He wastes no time at all in going to his side, and the dull noises of his feet hitting the floor don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to worry about their caretakers hearing him down here.

(God knows they’d complain about having to hear the screams.)

“Atsushi,” he does his best to keep too much emotion out of his voice, because that isn’t what he needs, right now. “Atsushi, are you- Can you-“

He chokes back the obvious questions of ‘Are you okay’ or ‘Can you stand’ because the obvious answer is no, but he needs to say something-

“Atsushi, can you see me right now?”

It takes a frightening few moments for the silver haired boy to even register his words, and another few moments for him to respond, but when the glaze recedes from his eyes, just a bit, and he nods, Dazai sighs in relief.

“Good. That’s- That’s good,” he swallowed. “Can you- Talk?”

Another pause, and Atsushi coughs, voice weak, but-

“Ye-es. Yes, I can- I can talk, Osamu-san.”

He sounds like he’s been screaming.

“Sorry for taking so… So long-“

“It’s fine, it isn’t your fault, don’t apologize- Here, I’ll help you up-“

Atsushi freezes, grip going tight, and his mouth opens to respond, but Dazai is already lifting him up, and-

There’s a pained, hazy whine, and Dazai freezes. Looks down.

Ah.

Why didn’t I look more closely?

Dazai has found the source of the blood, it seems- It seeps from a clearly painful wound on Atsushi’s foot, reopened from its attempts to close thanks to Dazai’s efforts.

Not that it could close.

It’s been nailed to the ground, after all. And the nail hasn’t been removed.

He stares, eyes blank. Tremors run up and down Atsushi’s body, and he realizes, belatedly, that he’s still holding him.

Very, very gently, he sets him down, doing his best to be mindful of his foot.

He stares again.

They’d nailed his foot his-

They’d shoved and nail to it and just-

They’d-

Dazai thinks, somewhat morbidly, that the nail makes Atsushi’s foot look even smaller than it is.

It probably went through bone.

It must’ve hurt so much.

There’s so much blood-

He blinks, feeling sluggish and hazy. Atsushi. Right. He needs to- He needs to make sure he’s okay. He needs to get the nail out.

There’s a hammer, not too far away. Just out of Atsushi’s reach, actually.

Dazai picks it up, noting, distantly, that there’s blood on the head.

He thinks he knows what this was for.

Luckily, the hammer can be used to remove the nails. Dazai doesn’t know if he could do it with his fingers.

“I’m going-“ his voice sounds hoarse. He clears his throat. “I’m going to try to… Remove the nail. Okay, Atsushi?”

He gets a blank stare in response.

“Atsushi?”

The boy jumps this time, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He nods, though, hands shaking.

It’s silent, and Dazai doesn’t know why he can’t move his body.

“They. He. He tried to make me- To make me h-hammer it in myse-“ Atsushi chokes on his own words, shaky violently, now. “I c-couldn’t- The hammer- I-“

“It’s okay.”

Dazai’s own voice sounds hollow, to his ears. Atsushi looks up at him, tears trailing down his face, eyes wide.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

He kneels down, movements careful, and slots the hammer over the nail, doing his best to ignore how firmly it settles against Atsushi’s skin.

That Man really drove it in-

Hands tighten on his shoulders, and before he can think too deeply about anything, he pulls the hammer up and away from Atsushi’s foot.

Then he throws it, as hard as he can, to the other side if the basement.

Dazai doesn’t remember being this angry before.

“It’s okay,” he says again, voice dull. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay-“

Atsushi cries.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Atsushi liked to tell him about the books he read, in the quiet of the library, as he hid from the other children, or even the adults. He talked about fantasies of children escaping their tormentors, of candy houses in the woods, about true love born and raised at midnight.

(“Osamu-san,” he’d wondered aloud one night, rain pounding at their thin walls as the cold seeped into their bones, “Osamu-san, wouldn’t it be nice if that was us?”

It’s a foolish notion, Dazai knows it is, but he’s never been one to keep Atsushi from the things that keep him alive and close by, selfish as that may be.

“It would be, he’d replied, “Maybe it could be, one day.”

Atsushi had giggled, then, the sound muffled by his hands and the cold and the pain weeping through their bodies like mud.

It was a nice sound.)

He talked, sometimes, about the characters being mad. He’d mentioned that sometimes, they were so mad they saw red, so angry that they couldn’t control themselves.

So furious they couldn’t think straight.

Dazai is not seeing red. He is perfectly in control, and he is, most definitely, thinking straight.

He considers, for a moment, if this makes him a monster, for what he’s about to do next.

No, he thinks. No.

It doesn’t.

Because a monster is shaped like a grown man with an awful haircut who takes and takes and hurts and hurts, who targets the only goddamn person in the world that Dazai cares about.

A monster uses a god-shaped hole to justify his actions.

And a monster is going to be dead by day’s end, because Dazai is going to kill it.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It isn’t as easy as simply up and leaving Atsushi to do the deed, however- His friend is in no condition to stay with him while he does what he has to do.

Even now, Dazai can see the small tremors running up and down his body, and choked, raspy wheezes pull their way from his throat. The aftershocks of his crying fit, no doubt.

He purses his lips, tucking the smaller boy under his chin as he thought.

Perhaps… He could leave him down here? Not permanently, of course- They’d need to escape- But sound didn’t travel well between the basement and the main house, so he wouldn’t have to hear anything.

The key would be making sure he didn’t have to look at the source of his trauma when he was alone.

Dazai hummed under his breath, eyes mapping out what he could see in the darkness- There was a cage, at the far back, but there were manacles there, and he doesn’t fancy having Atsushi wait for him inside of iron bars, so that’s a no. The corner to the left of the cage is also out, because that’s where he’d thrown the hammer and nail. Definitely not the center of the room, because there was still a blood puddle there…

His eyes fell on the right corner, right behind the rickety stairs that led into the basement.

It was dark, so he doesn’t think Atsushi would be forced to see the rest of the area, even if he turned around. It’s positioning meant that it would hide him from any adults who came down the stairs to investigate, though Dazai hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Definitely not perfect, but it would have to do.

“Atsushi,” he murmured. His voice was still dull, and he winced. “Atsushi, I’m going to move us, alright?”

There wasn’t a verbal response, but he felt the boy nod his head as much as he could, with it still tucked under Dazai’s chin. He took that for consent and, after a moment to brace them both, he lifted him halfway off the ground, keeping a careful arm around his waist so he didn’t fall.

(As much as Dazai would love to simply carry him, the orphanage hardly feeds them enough for him to be able to. He’d just exhaust himself, and he couldn’t be tired.

Not now.)

Once they’d moved, Dazai took great care in positioning Atsushi so that his back was to the center of the room. He went to pull away, then, but the panicked whine he got in response made him hesitate.

“Don’t leave. Please, please don’t leave me alone Osamu-“

“I’m not going to,” he pressed his face against Atsushi’s hair, sighing. “Atsushi, there’s. There’s something I have to do, okay? I won’t be gone long, I promise. Just stay here and I’ll be back soon.”

Atsushi’s hands don’t loosen their grip on his arms, but Dazai can’t bring himself to care.

Eventually, still shaking, they let go.

“Promise?”

Dazai smiles, then.

“Always.”

It was not a nice smile.

xxx——xxx——xxx

After convincing Atsushi that he isn’t leaving permanently, Dazai makes his way up the stairs- He’d considered, just for a moment, taking the hammer with him, but he doesn’t want to risk drawing Atsushi’s attention to it, again.

Best to leave it where it lay- Not like he wanted to touch it, again.

Unfortunately, this did mean he had to think of a new way to get rid of the Headmaster- Finding another hammer would take too long, after all, and now that he thought about it, there was too much risk that it’d make noise.

A knife, then? He knew the way to the kitchens, and while it might be messy, he doesn’t think you can mess up slitting someone’s throat.

Even if you are eleven and horribly malnourished.

Luckily for Dazai, the kitchen happens to be close by- Really, it’s just a matter of avoiding the floorboards that creak and being very, very quiet when he opens the drawers to look for the right thing.

Definitely not a butter knife, he thinks to himself. A cleaver is too big, though- Could i use it efficiently? And a steak knife might be too small…

His eyes fall on one of the larger knives in the set. A kitchen knife, was it? Seems light enough… Seems large enough, too. He picks it up for a moment, testing the weight, swinging it once or twice- Atsushi mentioned characters in his books doing that once, he thinks, and it’s something to do, if nothing else- And he thinks on what he’s about to do.

If this works- If Dazai really walks out of this room, knife in hand- A man will be dead by daybreak.

His hands will be bloody. It isn’t a decision he can take back, once he makes it.

Is he really going to do this? Can he do it? Does he want to-

(He thinks of Atsushi, curled up and shaking in the center of a room, tiny foot nailed to the ground-

He thinks of a piercing, painful hunger, of seeing Atsushi’s arms bloodied from how hungry the boy was-

He thinks of cold, of midnights full of pain, spent curled up in the corner of his shared room with Atsushi, thin arms wrapped around each other, murmured stories spilling from the silver haired boy’s lips-

He thinks-

“Osamu-san, wouldn’t it be nice if that was us?”

“It would be. Maybe it could be, one day.”

He thinks-

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He thinks, he thinks, he thinks-)

xxx——xxx——xxx

Dazai stares up at a wooden door- The stuff of nightmares, for kids like him, for kids like Atsushi. The home of their monster under the bed.

He opens the door, careful to keep it quiet.

Nothing moves in the darkness. He steps inside, closing it with a quiet click.

He wants to do this. He has to do this. They’ll both die here if he doesn’t.

He won’t regret it.

He can’t.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It’s warm, is Dazai’s first thought.

He stares at the body on the bed, blood slowly but surely seeping into the fabric of the sheets- Probably staining it, too, now that he thinks about it.

Good, he thinks, spiteful. That Man didn’t deserve clean place to die. Really, he deserved worse than a simple stabbing, too, but Dazai was short on time, and it was dark, and if the Headmaster has woken up and alerted someone-

He shakes the thought off, the action reminding him of the blood caking on his clothes and his skin. He made a face at the feeling.

And now it’s sticky. How fun.

Unfortunately, he and Atsushi need to leave- After all, he has no doubt that the other orphanage workers would claim it was Atsushi or himself who had done it, and he sees no reason to believe that whoever came to investigate would doubt them.

(He’d considered, briefly, killing the other workers to give them more time- They were just as much monsters as That Man was, after all… But no. Leaving was more important.)

He hopes Atsushi hasn’t been too upset while he was gone.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Getting back to Atsushi turns out to be the easy part- He opens the door with ease, still making as little noise as possible, but steps down the stairs leading to the basement loudly enough to alert Atsushi that someone is coming.

It’s getting out that’s the problem.

Because as it turns out, stepping foot out of the only place you’ve ever known, no matter how awful it was to you, is terrifying for both of them.

Dazai stares up at the gates before them.

Of course this is where he freezes. In front of gates. Not even when he’s killing someone. Of fucking course-

Atsushi’s hand tightens around his own, and he realizes, belatedly, that they’ve been clinging to each other since he got Atsushi out of the basement.

He tightens his own hand in response.

“Dazai-san,” the silver haired boy stops, face hesitant and voice hoarse. “Dazai-san, we… Need to go. Right? You’ll get in trouble for- For helping me if we don’t.”

Atsushi looks up at him, eyes still somewhat distant, but.

But it was better than it was.

Remember why you’re doing this.

It isn’t as if Atsushi doesn’t understand the situation- His friend is hardly stupid, and he knows what the blood that covered him means- So instead of arguing, he begins scaling the gates.

Opening them would make too much noise, right now.

Dazai refuses to ruin this. Not when they’ve come this far.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It had taken them a day to get out of the woods that surrounded the living hell that had been their life (they could’ve been quicker, but better safe than sorry- Atsushi is certain he heard people looking for them, after all).

It had taken them a further week of living on the streets, terrified of being found and dragged back, kicking and screaming, to find any hope of salvation.

(“I don’t want to go back, Osamu-san,” Atsushi had sobbed on their second night. “I don’t want to go back, they’ll take you, they’ll hurt you-“

“It’s okay, Atsushi. It’s okay-“

“Don’t go,” Atsushi choked out, shaking. “Don’t go, don’t go, you promised-“

“I did,” he pressed a kiss against Atsushi’s hair, eyes blank. “I won’t leave. I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise-“

The words had continued well into the night,)

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be calling it salvation.

It’s warm.

Dazai stares at the man across from them, eyes dull. Atsushi is buried in his side, half trying to avoid looking at the bloody corpse on the medical table, half unable to look away.

He doesn’t think they’ve been apart for more than a minute since their escape.

Ōgai Mori turns his gaze to them, eyes wide, and there’s a touch of something unhinged there- But Dazai tightens his grip on Atsushi’s hand and remains in place.

They have nowhere else to go, after all.

“Both of you,” the black hair man starts, “are my witnesses… And the only other ones here to witness the last words of the former boss of the Port Mafia. He died of illness, and passed on leadership to his doctor with his dying breath.”

Mori’s grin stretches wider.

“Isn’t that right, Dazai Osamu-kun and Nakajima Atsushi-kun?”

And Dazai thinks of meeting the man, and his words at the time.

(“Twenty-three stab wounds,” he’d murmured, “is not an insignificant crime.”

Dazai knew a threat when he heard one, and the man smirked at his unasked question.

“Join with the Port Mafia, and I can promise protection from the consequences of your actions. You’ll be well suited, I’m certain.”

Dazai… Considers. Slides his gaze down to Atsushi, tucked into his side, eyes wide and the tell tale purple-on-gold of his ability peering at the one who’d invaded their temporary hideaway of an abandoned building.

(And hadn’t that been an event in and of itself- Discovering abilities, discovering that they had them-)

Mori’s smirk stretches wider, and Dazai thinks, absentmindedly, that only monsters how that many teeth.

“And your little friend can even join, too.”)

Dazai is sure that, if not for No Longer Human, it would be claws digging into his side instead of Atsushi’s tight grip.

Neither of them move, though, and all Dazai can do is stare at the man in front of them.

If it was just him, he wouldn’t care. If it was just him, he could deal with it. But it isn’t just him.

(Dazai thinks of bloodied nails and hammer and an aching, desperate need-)

They have nowhere else to go.

Against his side, Atsushi gives a tiny nod.

“Yes, Mori-san.”

xxx——xxx——xxx

Dazai Osamu is twelve years old when he commits his first crime in a fit of desperation.

It won’t be the last.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Point of No Return- (Expression) Phrase denoting when one must continue on with their current path, due to turning back being physically impossible or dangerous in some manner

xxx——xxx——xxx

Author’s Note: Nyanon here again- And here’s what I’ve been working on! Hopefully this lives up to my last little… Drabble? One-shot? Though it’s definitely more violent than the last one… Uh, whoops?

Also, super sorry if this wasn’t word for word on anything that popped up in universe? For example, I couldn’t completely remember Mori’s little speech to Dazai… Hope that’s alright!