#sometimes it’ll dampen my mood for like. half the day

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

continuing from the last vent post

[paperpocalypse]

pb & m.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 4. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader 

Word Count: 2,749 words

Warnings: Referenced animal death/gore

“Are you sure he’s okay?”

Klaus sighs loudly, bringing his foot up to his face with practiced ease. “He’s probably just stewing over his training again,” the boy says, flexing his toes gingerly before blowing on his big toe. You purse your lips at his words, screwing the cap of black nail polish shut, and Klaus looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes. “It’s Five, [Y/n]. You should see him when you leave for the weekend. Total shut in.”

“But he hasn’t even come down for lunch or supper.” Setting the nail polish down, you tuck your knees up towards your chest, brow furrowing. “I mean, he doesn’t usually do that, does he?”

“I dunno. Sometimes!” Klaus exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You know, he talks all the time about what a mess I am, but he’s hardly more functional than me.”

You frown at him, eyes narrowing. “You don’t skip meals when I’m gone, do you?”

He waves you off. “Of course not. But that’s not the point. The point is, Five is a broody boy obsessed with his powers, so don’t be surprised if he wants to be alone for a day or a week.”

“He’s not a loner.”

“Well, he tries to be more sociable when you’re here.”

“No.” You pause, resting a cheek on one knee. “I’d still like him even if he wasn’t.”

Klaus just raises his eyebrows, sending another gust of air toward his toes.

The black and red stripes on his nails are settling quite nicely, but the success doesn’t make you as proud as it usually would. You chew your lip and look at the closed door. Normally, during this time in the late evenings, you wouldn’t be surprised if Five blinked through, supposedly to take back something Klaus had snuck from his room or to make sure neither of you “had died” – though you’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to hang out with you and Klaus, since he’d stay a little longer after confirming that you and Klaus were, in fact, still alive. No such visit tonight. In fact, you’ve barely seen him all day.

The thought dampens your mood quite a bit.

The next thing you know, Klaus propels himself to a stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blinking as he stretches and gives you a particular look.

“More like where are you going,” he replies, sighing. He grabs a hold of your wrist and starts tugging. “If you’re going to pine after Five all night, you might as well do something about it. Go … pop in and see what he’s up to.”

Break into Five’s room? Even though it’s tempting, you shake your head vigorously, ignoring the pining part. “You said he wanted to be alone. He might get mad at me.”

“He can’t get mad at you. He’d die of guilt.”

Klaus continues to pull on your arm until you’re sure it’ll come off if you stay on the floor. You give him an imploring look as you stand up, though the thought of checking up on Five is sounding more and more necessary by the second.

“Klaus –”

All the boy does is say your name right back as he throws the door open, nudging you outside into the dimly lit hallway. “Go have your quality time and come back when you’re done.”

“Are you sure –”

“He’ll be ecstatic. Especially if I’m not there.” And with that, Klaus shoos you off with a smile, closing the door.

Now alone, you look down the empty hallway, feeling mildly exposed and hoping that Five doesn’t come down the stairs right at this moment. There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to go up there, but … it’d make more sense if Klaus checked up on him, wouldn’t it? No matter how well you get along with Five, he and Klaus are brothers. They know each other a lot better than you probably ever will.

You should get him some food.

Inhaling sharply, you turn on your heel and make your way down the stairs, trying to make much less noise than you usually would – though you doubt anybody would care too much about a squeaking step, travelling through the Hargreeves mansion, especially down to the kitchen at night, still makes you wary of making your presence too big sometimes.

The air gets a bit chillier as you descend the last stretch of stairs leading to the basement, going faster as you get closer to the ground. Strangely, the lights in the kitchen are already on; you skip the last step and hurry through the gaping hole in the wall, curious.

Number Seven looks up from the table as you enter the kitchen, her surprised expression mirroring yours.

“Vanya?” you blurt.

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and you look down at the ingredients spread across the table. A jar of peanut butter, a half-finished bag of wonder bread. A bag of marshmallows – the mini ones used for rice krispies. Intrigued, you venture closer. You didn’t know Vanya had a sweet tooth.

(Suddenly, you realize that you don’t know much about her at all.)

“What are you doing down here?” you ask as you approach the table.

She looks at you, still a bit wide-eyed, then looks down at the slice of bread in her hand. “Um,” she starts, then pushes forward, “I was … Five missed dinner and lunch, so I was going to make him something to eat.”

“Really?” You beam, glad that she had the same idea. You could go together. “So was I. Mind if I help?”

For a moment, Vanya hesitates. But then she nods cautiously, smiling a little, and you give a thumbs up and head over to the utensil drawer. Opening it up, you take a moment to try to attract one of the butter knives to your hand, but after it does nothing more than quiver a bit, you sigh and pick it up with a finger.

“Five really likes peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches,” Vanya explains when you walk back to the table. “They’re his favorite.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

You fetch a bread slice from the bag and set it on the cutting board, then, after peeking over at Vanya’s work, scoop up a big glob of peanut butter and slather it onto the bread. She sprinkles some marshmallows on top of hers and squishes another slice on top of the marshmallows. You follow her lead exactly. The minute or two that you spend making the sandwich are all wordless, very unlike when you and Klaus are together, but you find yourself enjoying them either way.

“Maybe we could bring him a drink, too? What do you think?” you ask.

She nods. “There’s apple juice in the fridge.”

—

The presentation isn’t anything fancy, but it gets the job done, and you get the task of carrying the cup of apple juice while Vanya holds onto the sandwiches.

“I hope it’s okay,” Vanya murmurs after she knocks on Five’s door, shifting on her feet.

Even though you’re wondering the same thing, you instinctively nod your head. “Don’t worry,” you whisper back. “We did a good job.”

She looks over at you out of the corner of her eye and manages a small smile in return. Right after that, the door opens.

You immediately feel a bit better upon seeing Five; however, the happiness gives way to concern when you see his expression.

Five looks at the two of you, then at the plate in Vanya’s hands and the cup in yours, before speaking.

“Now’s not a good time.”

His tone isn’t cruel or dismissive. But it is a little dry, and very heavy and tired, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from telling him so.

Vanya’s face falls.

You’re unable to stay quiet any longer when both siblings’ gazes move away from the other. “Five,” you say, reaching out to touch Five’s shoulder gently. “Vanya’s been really worried about you. And me, too. We, um, wanted to bring you something to eat.”

The boy glances at Vanya again, who seems to have shrunk a little but still nods, and to your relief, his lips purse. He finally backs away from the door to let the two of you through.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, heading back to his desk. “… But thanks.”

Trailing after Vanya, you inspect Five’s room as you walk in. The walls are already crammed with chalky equations and notes and graphs, none of which you can begin to understand. When you look over at the corner where Five is, you spot the wastebasket next to his desk, filled to the brim with crumpled notebook paper.  Klaus was partly right, you think with worry. You’re not completely surprised.

You make your way over to Five and put the cup of apple juice on his desk, right next to the plate of peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. “You need to eat to think better,” you plead when he looks at you. “Right, Vanya?”

“I put lots of marshmallows,” she adds. “And I showed [Y/n] how to make one for you too.”

“I might’ve put too much peanut butter,” you mutter, scratching the back of your neck.

“That’s fine.”

You crack your brightest grin. “Famous last words, Five.”

He shrugs and turns back to his work. The two of you wait expectantly, albeit somewhat awkwardly, watching Five stare at his math and the textbook propped up against the wall in front of him. The end of his pen taps against the open pages of his notebook: tap tap tap tap tap. But he doesn’t write. You don’t think he even blinks. Troubled, you share a glance with Vanya; this time, it’s she who nods at you, reassuring.

Finally, Five sighs and puts his pen down. You don’t know if you’re glad or feel bad for it. Maybe both.

“Do you want us to leave?” Vanya ventures to ask.

He shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Stay,” he mutters, standing up. He picks up the cup of apple juice and takes a gulp, then grabs the plate and strides across the room to his bed. “Just in case my jaw is glued shut from [Y/n]’s sandwich.”

Vanya suppresses a snort. Your mouth drops open.

“Hey!”

Still, the joke – a Five joke, but a joke nonetheless – brings a cautious but real smile to your face as Five sits on the edge of his bed, taking a bite out of one of the sandwiches. You don’t know which one is yours and which one is Vanya’s. Not that it matters, unless his jaw really does get glued shut because of the peanut butter. You’ll shoulder the blame in that case.

(… Could your jaw get glued shut from peanut butter?)

You gravitate toward the bed as Five eats, sitting down next to him; Vanya lingers by the desk a little longer, and you wave her over.

“Come sit, Vanya.”

She looks between the two of you, then obliges, going over to sit on the other side of Five. She rests her hands on top of the comforter, leaning back on them as Five finishes the first sandwich and starts on the next one.

“We barely saw you after joint training,” you say after a minute or so of watching him polish off one half of the sandwich. Not hungry, he said. His actions definitely say otherwise. “Have you been working all day?”

He gives a brief, affirming grunt.

Taking that as a sign to go on, you swing your legs slightly back and forth. “I missed seeing you,” you say.

You think you see Vanya’s expression shift in your peripheral, but she turns her head before you can make sure. You also think Five stops chewing for a split second, but there shouldn’t be a reason for him to be surprised, so you’re probably just imagining things.

Five is your friend. Of course you’d miss seeing him if he disappeared all day.

In any case, he finally speaks again once there’s just a single piece of crust left; and when he does, his voice is so low that you wonder if he’s talking to himself.

“I had a drawback today.”

Vanya furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

Five stares down at the last scrap of crust, picking at a loose crumb. It falls onto the plate. “I could blink with mice on my first try. So Dad wanted me to blink with a dog today.” His voice remains low. “And I …”

For the first time today – and perhaps even this month – you witness Five’s expression crumple just the slightest bit. An uneasy feeling squirms in your chest.

“I botched it.”

“It’s … it’s okay, Five,” you try to comfort, “I’m sure you tried your –”

He shakes his head, cutting you off with a glare. “No,” he snaps, “you don’t get it. I botched it. I blinked with the dog and it turned inside out.”

Vanya’s eyes widen.

Your stomach turns.

So that’s why. Biting your lip, you stare at Five, horrified, trying desperately not to imagine what that had looked like. What that had felt like. Inside out. Sir Hargreeves doesn’t care for animals, you know that, but you didn’t think – you don’t know why you didn’t –

“I’m sorry, Five,” Vanya whispers as you hug Five, her voice shaky. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs blandly, and you tighten your hold, feeling how tense he actually is. “Intentions don’t mean anything if you screw it up in the end.”

He finishes the crust, moving away from your hug to put the plate on his nightstand. Vanya wipes her eyes. When he comes back, you reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for telling us, Five,” you tell him softly.

If Five looked tired before, now he seems utterly drained. But the tension seems to have ebbed. Just a little. And after a few seconds, he squeezes your hand back; well, not really a squeeze, but his fingers tighten, just barely, around yours. He meets your eyes and you smile a small smile.

Vanya gives her brother a brief hug, then stands up. “We should go,” she tells you reluctantly, glancing at the alarm clock. “Dad’s going to check our rooms soon.”

Dammit, you hate curfew. “Yeah, you’re right.” You pull away, not quite liking how cold your hand feels when you let go. Quickly weighing your options, you wrap your arms around Five one last time and give him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up as well. “See you tomorrow, Five. Try to get some sleep?”

He just shrugs, looking at the equations on his wall. Oh. Hopefully, you think as you grab Vanya’s hand and open the door, you didn’t make him too uncomfortable. The door creaks loudly and you cringe.

With one last “goodbye” from the two of you, which he returns in a murmur, you and Vanya hurry out of Five’s room and head quietly down the stairs.

“I hope he feels better,” you whisper, letting go of Vanya’s hand to hold onto the railing.

“I think he does. A little bit, at least.”

You reach the bottom, hesitating before saying what’s on your mind. “Um, Vanya?”

“Mhmm?”

“You know Five really well, right?”

The girl blinks, then smiles a little proudly. “… Oh, well, I guess so.”

“Does Five not like hugs?” you worry. “I just – I kinda do it without thinking, you know, and I think I might’ve made him uncomfortable back there.”

Vanya stares at you openly for a moment, tilting her head. “Not usually,” she eventually responds. Then a corner of her mouth twitches upwards. “But … I think he likes yours.”

“Oh.” That makes you feel better. “That’s good.”

“You should ask him later, though.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Footsteps lighter, you head to your room across from the stairs and twist the doorknob, then stop short. That’s right – Klaus wanted you to come back after you visited Five. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you figure that you’ll need to talk to him tomorrow morning, not wanting extra repetitions for loitering in the hallway. He’ll understand.

Pushing the door open, you look back at Vanya. “’Night, Vanya.”

She smiles, and you feel the warm glow of a newfound camaraderie with the seventh sibling.

“’Night.”

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Daddy's first pride

This is probably terrible, if so I'm sorry. From the Ana'verse.

"Plain iced cupcakes with different flags or rainbow icing." Robert announced as Aaron walked in the door with Ana on his hip and Seb following, making a beeline for his toys, giving his Dad a half hearted wave, as usual too interested in playing than anything else.

"Is this a quiz or..." He sets Ana down on the floor having picked her up from Sarah. He just stares at his husband, surrounded by recipe books, tapping away on his laptop, Sara in her bouncy chair in front of him fast asleep.

"For Pride. I can't make my mind up. Which do you think would be better?"

"Can we go back to the beginning, because I feel like I've walked in halfway through the series."

"Charles came in the cafe today, he's organising Pride in the village and he asked me to get involved." Aaron hasn't seen Robert look so eager about anything for ages, not since he came out of prison and he smiles along with him. "He's asked all local businesses for sponsorship or to be involved. I'm doing refreshments and stuff."

"When is it?"

"Next month. He said he'd called at the yard but couldn't make you hear." He goes back to scrolling on his laptop. "What do you think of these?"

"Must've had the crusher going." He shakes his head and picks his way through the mess surrounding Robert before he can sit down, lifting Ana onto his lap. "I can't hear a thing with that going you know that. What am I looking at?"

"Cookies. Maybe Mum could ice them, you know, all the different flags?"

"Yeah, why not. You know I'm the wrong person to ask, all I care about is if they taste nice."

"Idiot." He leans over to kiss him, closing his laptop. "I've put tea in early because there's a meeting at the village hall at six."

"About?"

"Pride, Aaron! I'm on the committee so I have to be on time. So you'll have to do bath time and that. I'll be home before they go to bed."

"There's a committee?"

"Yes. It all has to be arranged. You can help if you want. Mum's already volunteered, and there's Matty, Ethan, Charles, Nicola and Vic, oh and your Gran." He couldn't help smiling because he'd not seen Robert this animated in ages even if he truly couldn't remember any conversation they'd had about any of this.

"I'm not one for meetings am I, but I can do heavy lifting and that." He hesitates, not wanting to dampen Robert's mood one bit.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just...you've never really seemed interested in going to pride or 'owt." Robert looks down and he instantly feels bad. "Oi, it's not a criticism, I just wondered...you seem to be going at this hell for leather that's all. Did you want to go before or...?"

"Not really...I, nearly went once, in London. Chickened out at the last minute, worried someone from work might see me and just know which was daft I know, and when you and me got together, something always seemed to get in the way. I just thought...I know who I am now, and I'm happy. That's something to celebrate, isn't it?"

"Yeah, course. Be my first time too." He winks making Robert laugh. "Right, so, what else have you got planned?"

--------

"Robert!" It's only been a week and Aaron is wishing the days away so he can have his husband, and his house back. He's come home to a living room full of boxes.

"Oh, you're home. You're early."

"I thought I'd sack it off for the day and we could go to the pub for tea with the kids. I didn't expect to come home to...well this."

"Daddy look!" All of a sudden Seb emerges from behind the pile of boxes with what looks like a door curtain trailing behind him.

"Very nice mate. Robert what is all this."

"Ah...well..." Robert scratches his head as he untangles Seb from the decoration he's wrapped himelf in. "The thing is, I'm kinda in charge now."

"How come?"

"It was meant to be Andrea, although if you ask me she only agreed because she thinks it'll keep her in with Charles." Aaron nods, even though he really has no idea what he's talking about, but then Robert's always been more into village gossip than him. "Anyway she's cried off, I don't know, some kind of drama with Jamie again, and well Charles needed the help."

"And you agreed."

"He was stuck!"

Robert and Charles have struck up a kind of friendship since Robert came home, and Aaron knows that he's confided in him, stuff he doesn't want to tell Aaron, or things he needs to sort out before he does.

"Right, so basically the house is going to be a store room for the next fortnight?"

"No, I'm moving it all over to the village hall, but it needed checking, and Mum was going to help but then Ana wanted to go to the swings so she took her, and Sara."

"I'm helping!" Seb pipes up, with his head inside another box as Robert shook his head.

"Well how about you help me and Daddy move these boxes and then we can go and get some tea?"

"Chips?"

"If you get your head out of that box and stop spreading stuff everywhere then maybe."

--------

The next few weeks are a flurry of plans, of Robert having daily brainwaves or panics about one thing or another, and his phone is constantly lighting up with WhatsApp messages, but finally it's the evening before and he thinks Robert has calmed down. He's at one final committee meeting leaving Aaron in charge of the kids tea.

"You alright mate?" Seb's pushing his pasta around the plate rather than eating.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's at his meeting, you know sorting things for tomorrow. He won't be long."

"What's Pride?" He says after pushing a few more bits of pasta around. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised Seb's asking, it's all they've spoken about for the last month or so after all.

"Well in some places it's like a big parade and it's full of colour and everyone's happy. Emmerdale's a bit small for a parade though ain't it, so it's just going to be like a big party with music and face paints and food and all sorts of things."

"Oh."

"What's up mate?"

"Oscar, at school, he said havin' two Daddies is weird." Aaron's never head of this Oscar, and he has to remind himself it wasn't the kids fault that he obviously hadn't been taught properly.

"Do you think it's weird?"

"No. You and Daddy both play with my trucks and take me on the swings."

"Exactly, some boys and girls have a Mummy and Daddy, like Eve, some have two Mummies like Moses and Johnny, and some like you, Ana and Sara have two Daddies. But all of you have fun, and everyone loves you, so it's not weird. Oscar maybe just doesn't understand hey?"

"But I had Mummy too." Aaron let out a breath, it'd been a good while since he'd mentioned Rebecca, other than saying goodnight to her photo every night. He wished Robert was here, he was always better at dealing with it than him.

"Yeah, well, Moses has a Daddy too doesn't he? A family can be made up of whoever, and still be the same as everyone elses. Do you understand?"

"I think so. And pride is like a party?"

"Yeah, celebrating the fact that people like me and Daddy can be together and stuff."

"But...why?"

"Because years ago we wouldn't have been allowed to get married or be together and some people still think we shouldn't."

"That's silly."

"Yes it is. Really silly."

"Can we go see Daddy?" Aaron smiles, and nods, happy that Seb's satisfied with his answer.

It's a bit of a struggle, managing the three of them, but eventually he gets Seb to push Sara in her chair, while he carries Ana, and they're heading towards the village. Suddenly Seb stops, mouth open and Aaron stops fiddling with Ana's cardigan to see what's wrong.

"Wow." Main Street is literally awash with colour and Seb's eyes are as wide as Christmas. "Look Daddy!"

"I am mate. Cool huh?" He can see Robert in the distance, with Charles and he nudges Seb to carry on walking, smile growing wider as they gets closer to his husband, seeing how happy he is.

"Daddy! Everything's pretty!" Seb all but abandons the buggy to run the last few metres to Robert who immediately picks him up and sits him on his shoulders.

"What do you think young man?" Charles asks him and Seb giggles. He likes Charles, had crazed them to be allowed to go to the after school club he'd set up in the village.

"I like the colours! Daddy said that Pride is cos he and Daddy are allowed to get married. Is that right?"

"Something like that yes. Do you remember we talked about it last week at after school club?"

"When we coloured in?"

"That's right. All of your drawings are hanging up in the church so maybe you can show your Daddies tomorrow."

"OK!"

"Come on chatterbox, let Charles get home."

"He's fine. I'll leave you to it. It looks really good Robert, you've done a great job getting everyone organised, especially last minute."

They take a slow walk home once Robert's done one last check of everything. Aaron's just happy to wait, happy to watch him. It's been a strange couple of years since he came out of prison, ups and downs along the way and he knows Robert's struggled with village events sometimes, feeling as though people are watching him, judging him. Seeing him taking such a delight in organising everything hopefully means he finally feels properly back at home.

"You ready?" Finally finished he kisses Aaron, Seb resting against his shoulder, suddenly tired. "It does look ok, right?"

"Yeah. Proper proud of you I am."

--------

"She's sleeping again." Aaron clicks off the light and slips into bed beside him, not getting any response from his husband. "You ok?"

"Hmm? Yeah. It's just..."

"What?"

"Charles asked me if I'd say something tomorrow."

"Ok, and...you don't want to? I'm sure he'd understand."

"No I do but...I don't know what to say."

"Just say whatever comes to mind. You don't have to make a big speech, just welcome everyone. He wouldn't have asked you if he didn't think you could."

"I just...it has to be perfect."

"Robert, it already is. Look at what you've done, the village looks amazin', and tomorrow is going to be brilliant and that's down to you."

"People helped."

"Yeah, but they wouldn't without you geeing them up. It's all set up now...you get to enjoy yourself."

"Mmm, love you, you know. I'm glad I didn't go that time in London, I'm glad my first pride is with you."

"Soppy git."

--------

"Right, I'm ready." He's barely set a foot on the bottom stair when Robert stops him.

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"You are not wearing all black. I will suffer it the rest of the year, but not today."

"Why the hell not? Last I checked it was a free country and I can wear whatever I want."

"No Daddy. You has to wear colour! It's the rule." Aaron bends down to Seb who has his arms crossed, mimicking Robert.

"Oh is it? Well I heard that it's the rule to tickle little boys until they shouted me to stop!"

"No! Daddy, stop it! Daddy help me!"

"Seb's right." Aaron stops tickling his son to frown at his annoying husband. Robert's wearing a t-shirt with PRIDE emblazoned across the front in the colours of the bisexual flag and before he can ask what he considers colourful enough he's handing him a bag. "I got you this."

He glares at him a moment longer, pulling what looks like a t-shirt from the bag.

"I knew you wouldn't actually wear proper colour so I got it made up in black." The shirt has 'love wins' across the front made to look like rainbow paint splatters. "Will it do?"

"Fine." He sighs, but he's smiling.

"I, er, I also got these, for the kids." He hands him three more shirts each saying the same thing. "You like 'em?"

"Perfect. Right then, I'll get changed, you can sort them, and then finally we can go!"

Fifteen minutes they're off, Seb running ahead, while Aaron has Aaron on his shoulders, little hands clutching at his hair. Robert's behind them, stopping to adjust Sara's sunhat.

"Seb hang on mate." He stopped at the top of the drive until Robert catches him up.

"Oh my God."

Main Street was full of people, and Aaron couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"Look what you did."

"Yeah." He sounds stunned.

In the crush, the lose each other after a little while, and it's not until he hears Charles announcing Robert's name that he knows where he is. Making his way to the stage that's been set up next to the church he stands to one side with Sara's pushchair, Ana still on his shoulders. He can see Seb at the side of the stage with Vic so he's happy to stay where he is.

"Um...I don't quite know what to say. When Charles talked about this, I don't think any of us expected quite so many people. Er, it took me a long time to accept who I was, that, um, that I'm bisexual, that it's ok...Fifteen years actually, and now I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world and we've got three kids, and I'm happy. It's been a hell of a journey but I'm truly happy. Anyway I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's ok to not know, to take your time, to go at your own speed...so, have a wonderful day everyone!"

Aaron can barely hear himself think at the cheer, the whistle as Robert steps off the stage, picking Seb up and kissing him as he goes.

It takes a while but eventually they find each other and he sees that Seb had convinced his Daddy to let him get his face painted, cheeks perfectly matching his t-shirt that proclaims 'my daddies love me' with both a pride flag and bisexual flag.

"Was it ok?" Robert asks as Aaron moves Ana so she's standing with Seb, holding onto his hand.

"Did you hear them? It was perfect." He kisses him before hugging him tight. "Love you so much."

"Love you too."

"Daddy I'm hungry! Can we get a cookie from Ganma now?"

He laughs into Robert's neck as the moment's broken. It didn't matter, the whole day has been perfect from start to finish.

[genesisrose74]

I'm crying your so amazing at writing like honestly 😭. If you're still accepting fics can you please do more timeskip Hinata in Brazil please?

Rainy In Rio

A/n: Rio Hinata lives in my head rent free so thank you for giving me an excuse to write more for best boy 🥰 I researched the summers in Rio and nicknames they commonly use for significant others for absolute ages to get this accurate, but if anything needs correcting anyone please lemme know! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Despite the fact that rain starts falling significantly during January in Rio, Shoyo Hinata didn’t think it necessary to check the weather for the second week of the New Year. Nor did he think twice about inviting you to the sandy shores of the city during a morning of that second week to teach you more about sand volleyball.

The thought only occurred to him, in fact, when a handful of large water droplets fell from the sky and smacked him right on the forehead. Right in the middle of him showing you how to set on the beach.

You shoot him a questioning look as the first hints of precipitation plop down on your extended arms, which Hinata was currently in the process of positioning. His sheepish face already gives you an answer, but you decide to confirm your inference anyways.

“Shoyo, did you check the weather at all today?”

The guilty expression turns into a full fledged grimace when the rain only picks up, coming down in droves as every second passes. His tangerine hair quickly becomes a flattened mess as he opens his mouth to respond, body unmoving from his initial position. “Uhm, no?”

A sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head. “Good thing I left my phone at your place.”

When he does finally move, it’s only because you’re pulling at his athletic shirt to find a drier spot. He snags his backpack from the dampened sand, slinging it over his shoulder, and hurries to catch up with your speed walking.

Although you hold displeasure with your now very wet clothes, it's difficult to stay pouty at the boy when his puppy dog face is ever so visible in your peripheral vision. When you finally reach an overhang to wait out the unexpectedly harsh rainfall, he turns to you with desperate pleas for forgiveness on his tongue, but stops when he sees your slanted grin at his worry.

“You’re not upset?” he inquires with a tilt of his head.

“Why would I be that upset, silly?” you snort, “It’s just rain, and it’s not like I don’t forget to check the weather sometimes myself.”

Hinata’s signature smile erupts on his face, shooing away any previous anxiety from his expression. “Oh, thank goodness!”

Hinata rummages through his back to check on his valuables, most notably his phone, while you observe the current downpour. The weather doesn’t nip frostily against your skin, thankfully, since Rio’s summer temperatures remain quite warm even in the midst of the rainy season, but the heavy barrage from the sky is still quite the surprise for your now botched plans.

“It’s really coming down today,” you muse aloud, reaching out to feel the pitter-patter of water against your hand. Hinata comes up beside you with curious eyes, pulling a lightweight jacket he had spare in his bag over your shoulders.

“It really is,” he agrees. “Do you want to wait it out?”

“I’m not sure. It looks like it’s going to be pretty long until things let up.”

He glances your way with a playful smile. “I suppose I do owe you a drink after I’ve gotten you all soaked.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you hum. “Can we get some pineapple juice at the spot by your place?”

“Of course we can, bela querida.”

You can’t help the flustered giggle that passes your lips at the nickname, Shoyo’s rise in confidence since he arrived in Rio shining through - although his cheeks still blossom a very noticeable pink.

He offers a hand out to you in invitation, calloused fingers warm against your own when you accept, and the ginger-haired male hurriedly leads you through the less crowded streets of the city as raindrops continue barraging the area. The speed walking, half jogging pace you both keep up consists of kiddish laughter throughout, the knowledge of how ridiculous you likely seemed to bystanders prompting a heavy amount of giggling. Your haphazard grasp on the jacket just barely surrounding your figure doesn’t do much to reject the rainfall, but it becomes difficult to take notice nor care about its effectiveness.

Only a half-step in front, Hinata is also a cheerfully soaked mess. Hair once again flattens against his face as water cascades from the sky, backpack slung aimlessly over his shoulder and head tucked slightly downwards, with just enough vision to maneuver the city. The entertained smile that hasn’t yet left his face seems enough to dry the entire country within a minute, and a playful squeeze to the hand he holds effortlessly sends warmth through your body.

It doesn’t take very long to reach your desired destination in the mostly emptied walkways of Rio, populations already dissipated in favor of finding shelter. The woman at the cafe’s counter gives a knowing chuckle at your drenched presences in the doorway, and kindly takes Hinata’s order when he approaches with an apologetic grin - knowing very well that the main floor of the shop was now splashed with puddles left in his wake.

The lady doesn’t come to mind it in the slightest, though, conversing easily with the ginger about the major downpour outside. He wouldn’t know it himself, but Hinata held a certain charm that made it easy for people to warm up to him in a matter of minutes, and you noted that such a quality contributed to the employee’s momentary understanding with your situation.

Said Karasuno alumni returns to your side, who still stands on the cafe’s entrance mat beneath the building’s overhang.

“It’ll take a minute, but your ever-desired juice fill is on its way,” he informs you, and your delighted smile has Hinata’s own eyes glimmering with happiness. “Thank you very much.”

“You are very welcome.”

You glance at the sky for a moment, and your expression is much more cheeky than before as your gaze returns to his own. The male next to you offers a confused but curious look at the change. “What’s that face for?”

“I had an idea is all,” is what you respond with, which only intrigues him further.

“Care to explain what that idea might be?”

“Hm...how about I show you instead?”

Hinata nods his head, albeit a smidge hesitant. When you tug ever so gently on his arm, leading him towards the uncovered part of the walkway, the dots connect to discover what your plan was. At least slightly.

“You want to stand out in the rain now?” he inquires with a slanted grin.

“Not just stand,” you correct, feeling the first batch of droplets against your skin. “Dance.”

The look on his face shifts to one of playfulness, easily taking your hand in his just like before. Pulling you towards him in the empty street - with the exception of a few stragglers around looking for cover - his other hand quickly finds your waist.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he laughs warmly, examining your own joyful expression with endearment etched across his features.

“That makes two of us,” you agree.

His arm lifts to twirl you in a partially clumsy manner before bringing your arms around his shoulders again, leaning towards your ear and murmuring, “Do you think the cafe lady minds if we go back inside for the drinks in these soggy clothes?”

“Just stay on the mat outside so we don’t get the floor more wet than it already is, and I think it’ll be fine,” you reason.

“Fair enough.”

Hinata pulls back far enough to examine your face and brushes a wet strand of hair out of your eyes, encouraging your grin to widen with the gesture. He presses his lips to your forehead for a moment, his proximity radiating the same warmth it always seemed to maintain.

“I hope that it rains for at least a day, whenever you visit, from now on,” he thinks aloud.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“So we can dance like this again.”

Your heart grows impossibly softer in your chest, and you nestle your head into his nearly see-through shirt to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “You smooth talker.”

He lets out an easy laugh, unraveling your arms from his neck and taking both your hands in his to see your face more clearly.

“I think the drinks are ready by now,” he comments, eyes suggesting a more teasing mood, but the rest of his expression immeasurably sweet. “We should go check.”

“You’re probably right,” you concede with the slightest hint of disappointment.

He swings your still intertwined fingers back and forth as you both walk towards the cafe entrance once more. “Let's do that again sometime soon.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth at your thoughts. “Call me next time it rains and I’ll book a flight.”

“I will absolutely be doing that,” Hinata snorts good-naturedly, but in his mind he truly considers it for a moment.

If it meant getting to do that more often, he would fly you out every rainy day without question.

[my-soul-sings]

just my luck: chapter 1

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Taehee x Reader 

Summary (placeholder): Having been cursed to live a life filled with misfortunes, moving to a new city to start anew was, as expected, a difficult process. But things start to change after you encounter a mysterious doctor who seems to know you even though you’ve never met him before. 

Notes:

Will contain spoilers for Taehee’s Story. 

The ‘Reader’ character will be left unnamed, and there are no mentions of ‘y/n’.

Taehee is trained in western medicine here, instead of oriental medicine.

The reader character will not be based on the in-game MC, other than her looks. The differences are because personally I think the in-game MC and Taehee’s personality don’t really match somehow.

This is basically my version of events of how Taehee and MC meet again. The details and events in this are not true to the game, other than Taehee’s backstory. 

For now it’ll be here on tumblr (if and until I move it to AO3) and i’ll be using the tag #justmyluck on the blog for chapter updates. 

***

The rain was loud in your ears. Cars whizzed by you, water splashing beneath the tires and onto the pavement as they went by, and people hurried about with their umbrellas that did little to keep them dry in this torrential weather. 

You stood still in the middle of the hustle and bustle, your luggage by your side and your broken umbrella hanging limp and useless in your hand. The cold rainwater seeped into your clothes, and you shivered as a chill ran down your spine when the strong wind blew against your frame. 

You could feel odd stares being directed your way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your phone battery had been depleted, which meant you could no longer refer to Poogle Maps to get to where your new apartment was. You had already waited for the past hour trying to hail a cab to no avail, and no one was accepting your request on the Duber app. 

As if moving wasn’t stressful enough already, all of this just had to happen. But you weren’t surprised in the least—it was just another typical day in your unfortunate life. 

For as long as you could remember, you had terrible luck. At first it was trivial things like always getting the shitty prizes in a lucky draw no matter how many times you spun the wheel, and always losing in games of chance against friends. No matter where you went or what you did, it seemed you were doomed to consistently draw the short end of the stick. 

Your luck seemed to only get worse as you grew older. Injuries grew increasingly common, and more severe. You didn’t think there were so many ways a person could get hurt—you had to learn it the hard way, from slipping on a banana peel, getting knocked down by someone who accidentally ran straight into you, getting hit by stray soccer balls or baseballs in school… The events were countless. 

Your classmates used to joke that you had been cursed by a witch when you were younger. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if that was true after all. There was only so much bad luck one person could have in their life, and you seemed to be attracting a never-ending supply of it. 

You’d hoped that maybe things would change after moving to this new neighbourhood. You had even specifically asked for an apartment that had ‘good feng-shui’, hoping that would make some kind of difference.

It didn’t. You hadn’t even arrived in your new home yet, but you could already tell that things weren’t going to change. If you had been cursed by a witch or been fated to suffer neverending misfortune, then moving to a new neighbourhood to start afresh wasn’t going to change anything. 

With a sigh and a shiver, you decided to shake yourself out of your low spirits. No point dwelling on these things, you may as well hurry to your apartment before something worse happened. So you picked up the handle of your luggage and continued trudging on, your feet making squelching sounds with each step from the water that had filled your shoes. You’d get home one way or another, and a little rain wasn’t about to stop you.

Just as you finished that thought, the handle of your luggage broke, and the whole thing tumbled straight into a muddy puddle, sending specks of mud flying and staining your jeans.

It took everything in you to suppress a frustrated scream when you dipped your fingers into the dirty waters to pick up your luggage again. 

***

By the time you arrived at the apartment building, you looked like you had been to hell and back. 

But hey, at least you had come out alive, right?

Your landlord had been surprised to see you drenched from head to toe, and she had kindly offered a fresh towel and some hot tea for you after inviting you into her home. She was a kind elderly lady, and her warm welcome brightened your mood considerably. The tea had felt extra warm as you made small talk with her before taking the key to your apartment. 

But then your mood sank right back down to rock-bottom when you realised that you had to carry your heavy luggage up five whole flights of stairs, because it just so happened that the elevator wasn’t working. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone you could ask for help—certainly not the sweet old landlady. You felt bad to bother any of your neighbours too. 

So an hour and one rough tumble down the stairs later, you miraculously made it all the way up to your door. You would be jumping for joy if your arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off. All you wanted to do was take a hot shower, lie down and get some sleep. Maybe take some painkillers before that too, because you could feel a migraine coming up. 

The apartment smelled a little musty when you entered, but otherwise, everything looked great. It was bare, seeing as there was some delay in the delivery of your furniture, but it was clean. There weren’t any bugs that you could see from a quick survey of the rooms, so that was good enough in your book. 

Looking around your simple studio apartment, you smiled to yourself, glad that you had finally made it here despite the many hiccups along the way. Nothing could dampen your spirits now; moving here marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life, and you were ready for your new job that would be starting in two weeks. 

You had a good feeling about all this somehow, despite dripping wet all over your floor and even though your sides hurt from falling down the stairs together with your luggage earlier. 

Cursed or not, you were excited about living here already. 

***

Two days later, your furniture still had not arrived. You had to make do with the sleeping bag you’d packed in your luggage for contingencies such as this. The moving company wasn’t getting back to you even though you had sent them a string of emails asking for updates. You hoped it was just a lack of staff around on the weekends, and that someone would get back to you by Monday.

Apart from that, there weren’t any major problems. Everything in the apartment was working fine. You had made sure to check everything to make sure you wouldn’t suffer some kind of freak accident in your own home—it had happened before, when the ceiling fan in the living room fell just when you left to take a drink. (Looking at it from another angle, you had been incredibly lucky with that close shave.)

The only issue left was the fever that you had woken up to that morning, definitely because you had been caught in the rain. Thankfully, the landlady had informed you that there was a clinic just across the street, so you made plans to go after forcing yourself to eat half of an apple. You didn’t have an appetite but you’d probably faint on the way if you went on an empty stomach, and ending up in the hospital was definitely not on your to-do list here. 

It was warm out when you stepped out of your apartment building. The sun was up, and the temperature was just right. Perfect for a walk. You’d probably enjoy it better if your head wasn’t pounding so much. 

It wasn’t too difficult to find the clinic. Like the landlady said, it was right across the street, a mere five minutes’ walk from your apartment. And then right down the street was a convenience store too. You’d go pick up some snacks and ready-made foods later — it’d be too tiresome to cook while sick.

The clinic wasn’t too full, thankfully. There were maybe about four to five people inside when you arrived, and after registering at the counter you took a seat and checked your phone. You hadn’t had the energy to reply to anything yesterday, so it seemed that your phone had blown up while you were gone.

The messages were mainly from Seohee, your best friend. You saw multiple missed calls and messages from her, and from what you could glean from the message previews, she had been worried because you just went MIA without updating her on your whereabouts. She had been worried from the start when she heard that you were going to live alone in a new city, without anyone accompanying you. 

Grimacing, you swiped right to open the chat, and you typed a quick message to assure her that you were doing fine and adjusting great, casually omitting the part where you had fallen sick and your furniture hadn’t arrived yet. No need to worry her, she had enough things on her plate to manage. 

The other messages were from random group chats that you didn’t have the energy to read at the moment, so you locked your phone and closed your eyes momentarily, leaning back in your seat and resting your head against the wall. The doctors seemed to be taking a while…

About half an hour later, your number was called. Finally. 

You stood up a bit too quickly, and black spots promptly appeared in your vision while your head started to spin. A nod was all you could manage when the receptionist pointed to one of the rooms down the hallway, while you took hesitant steps forward and tried to steady yourself. Eventually the dizziness subsided and your head cleared up a bit when you read the name written on the door plate: Dr. Taehee Kim. 

You repeated the name a few times in your head. It had a nice ring to it. You knocked twice on the wooden door and pushed down on the door handle to enter.

“Good morning.” You heard a deep, male voice, and your first thought was that you liked it. There was a soothing quality to it, and maybe it was an exaggeration but your headache seemed to lessen just from hearing him speak. 

You looked up, wearing a polite smile and returning the morning greeting. Or at least, you were about to, but then your voice caught in your throat and you found yourself staring into the eyes of who was quite possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. He had thick, wavy black locks parted to the side, and a pair of deep set, dark grey-ish green eyes—a colour you had never seen before. His complexion was fair and otherwise flawless, and you could tell from his defined jawline and broad shoulders that he worked out regularly too. He looked handsome enough to be a model, and you couldn’t help but stare with widened eyes, while heat began to gather in your face. Whether it was from the fever, or because of him, you couldn’t tell. 

But getting to see such a handsome doctor… today had to be your lucky day. For once. 

The only thing was, it seemed to be the exact opposite for him. Contrary to the tone of his greeting, he now looked like he had just seen a ghost. He sprang to his feet the moment he saw you, and his chair rolled backwards until it hit the wall behind him with a loud thump. His eyes were blown wide, lips parted as he stared at you, searching your face for something… You didn’t know what, exactly. 

The normal thing to do now would be to sit in the empty chair next to his desk and for him to do his job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move a single step. Not when he was looking at you like this, as if he had a million things to say but couldn’t. So you stood there, feet glued to the spot by the door as you stared back, blinking and confused. 

He spoke again after the tense silence stretched on for much longer than you’d have liked. 

“Is… Is it really you? Am I dreaming? Is this… real?”

In the silence of the room, his shaky whisper rang loud and clear in your ears. 

Affection. Sadness. Longing. They were unmistakable in his wavering voice, in his eyes that were starting to glisten with what seemed like tears. 

The only problem was, you didn’t understand why. Much less why it was being directed to you. You were missing something here, or maybe it was him. You didn’t know. Your head hurt, and you just wanted some medicine, and then to go home to sleep this fever off. 

But now your doctor was walking towards you, each footstep ringing in your ears as he drew closer and closer, his perplexed expression remaining the same. And for some reason you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, much less find the strength to push him away when he stood an arm’s length away and gently held you by the shoulders. Even the way he tried to hold you was strange — his hands were shaking and his palms were barely brushing against your shoulders, hesitant and afraid. 

Maybe you had spoken too soon. It probably wasn’t a lucky day at all—when would you learn? Now you were stuck in an office with a weirdo who was getting way too emotional over a simple consultation.

“A-Are you… okay?” The words came out as a timid squeak, and you watched as he blinked, though his eyes didn’t lose the glass-like quality to them. The ceiling light was reflecting off his eyes, and they seemed to be glistening with fresh tears.

“I never thought… I… I can’t believe it’s- it’s- H-How could this happen?” 

You flinched when you felt something brush against your cheek, and it took a few seconds for you to realise that the back of his hand was ghosting over your skin. 

Belatedly, your fight-or-flight response finally kicked in and you pushed his hand away, putting your hands out to make him step back and put some much-needed distance between you. Handsome or not, this guy was getting downright creepy and inappropriate.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, and I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’ll just go to another clinic-” You turned around, ready to hightail it out of his office, when you felt his hand on your wrist, holding you in place. 

“No, wait. Please- Please wait. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault.”

A voice pounded in your head then. An image flashed in your mind, one of a man who didn’t belong in this time period. He was dressed in traditional clothes, and he was holding you with tears streaming down his face. You couldn’t quite make out his face from the blurred picture that came and went like lightning, but the sound of his voice was the same as this doctor’s desperate plea. 

Then dizziness hit you once more, but this time it didn’t subside. The last thing you remembered before your vision turned black was the sound of him calling your name. 

***

A/N: I will be leaving this on tumblr for now, I’ll probably start posting on AO3 when I have more chapters ready to post. :) I’d love to hear your thoughts on this first chapter and thank you for reading! :)

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Missing Home

I’m re-posting in hopes to fix the format issue I have with the last one. 

Connor missed you. There was no easy way to put it. He wanted to hold you in his arms, hear your voice, taste your lips. He wanted you to explain some of the jokes the other human detectives told. Hank finds the constant barrage of questions exhausting, but you never tired. A new exhibit had opened up at the zoo, featuring mythical animals. He wanted to see it with you. 

But you weren't here.

"I have to go. I match what they're looking for and it's their best lead." 

You both were sitting in the meeting room, an hour after you had been asked to go undercover in another precinct for a human/android trafficking ring. You would be working at a seedy strip club, as a bartender. Everything about this was terrible to Connor. Putting your life in peril while lecherous men tried to touch you? If he had any say, he would adamantly reject the idea, but... It was your choice. It tore him apart, wanting to support and protect, conflicting with each other. 

You kept trying to reassure him, that you had back-up, that your outfit had a tracker in it, that you would not be stripping. Then one of the officers you would be working with handed you your uniform, a skimpy two-piece that only covered the essentials, then had the audacity to check you out, a wolfish grin on his face. Rage threatened to boil over. Noticing, you grabbed Connor's tie, reeling him in and kissing him hard. The officer's smile fell, and he quickly exited. You pulled back, smiling up at the android, bringing your hand up to his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"I don't want you to think I want to do this. According to their data, the ring is getting bigger. It needs to be shut down." He knew you were right, that innocent lives were at stake, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. "I have to leave for debriefing tomorrow, but why don't we have some fun tonight? We can do whatever you like." You ran your hands up his stomach and over his chest, resting them on his shoulders under his jacket. His eyes fluttered, and for a second, he forgot everything. You were... And he was... 

You took hold of his tie again, pulling him to follow.

"Let's go, lover boy."

..............

That was over three weeks ago. They had spent the whole night tangled together, relishing in the closeness. All too soon, you had to pack up and leave. You kissed him one last time, told him you love him, promised to be careful, and then you were gone. 

To protect your cover, he wasn't allowed to contact you, only receiving updates through the department. Apparently, you were fine and they were getting a lot of Intel. It should only be a matter of time before they have enough evidence to raid the location. He hopes so. You'll be free to come home then. 

 To think, at this very moment, some drunken idiot could be hassling you, trying to grab you. You were capable of course, but how much could you do without blowing your cover? It burned him up to think you might have to 'tolerate' any of it, for the good of the mission. 

He was walking home after another shift. Without any outstanding investigations, he wasn't allowed to stay after anymore. Apparently, not everyone appreciated his help, though he doesn't understand why. He only pointed out details they were missing or errors in their assessment. He wasn't rude about it, just factual. Hank gets tired of it too, though he has far more patience with him. He knows Connor isn't doing it to show him up, it's just how he was programmed. Deviancy can't fix everything.

The car has been sitting in the driveway for weeks. He just doesn't see the point in rushing home. All he does is stare at his fish or at the tv. He tries going over casework, but it just all leads to him worrying about you. Were they treating you alright at the other precinct? Were you getting enough sleep? Eating properly? Dragging his feet, he looks to the ground. This city always seems filthier without you, trash and cigarette buds littering the walkway. 

This is ridiculous. He had a life before you. He had hobbies and did things... Didn't he? He put in a lot of hours at the department, that's for sure. He went home to Hank's house and took care of Sumo, listened to music and read some of Hank's old paperback novels. Everything seemed so dull then. It wasn't that he was unhappy, in fact, some of those days were the best of his life, but then you showed him he could be happier, that every day could be like the best day of his life, opening doors he didn't even know were there. He sighs, kicking an empty can. 

The epitome of scientific artificial intelligence can't be left alone for five minutes. 

A call flashes on his HUD, bringing his attention away from his self-pity. It was Markus.

"Hey, Connor. Are you free tonight?"

"Yes. Why?" Did they need some help at New Jericho? Or a meeting for the leaders? Maybe some legal advice?

"Wanna hang out?" 

...hang out? He didn't even consider that. It's been a while since the last time they met up that wasn't on professional terms. Between his work at the DPD and Markus being the ambassador for androids, free time hasn't exactly been on the table. Still, wasn't he just griping about not being able to be left on his own? Wouldn't this just solidify that? He must have taken too long to answer, as Markus reiterated.

"There's a bar downtown that is offering drinks tailored to androids. Simon believes it would be a good way to unwind." So, Simon is going? He has no issues with Simon, but it makes him wonder.

"Who all will be attending?"

"Just the leaders." 

Which means North will be there.

"I think I'll just stay at home." Markus knows his issues with the psychotic woman. Staring at fish for several hours sounds like the better option.

"North will be meeting up with a few of her friends."

"What about your image? You represent our people. It won't look good if someone were to see you acting intoxicated." Connor made it to the front of his house, sitting down on the porch steps. 

"The club is for androids only. The owner has already made arrangements for us. Everything will be fine."

"Android only? I thought we were against segregation." 

"Are you being difficult on purpose?"

"No." Maybe. He doesn't really feel like going out.

"Connor, I think you need this. You can't live your life working all the time. Come out with us. It'll be fun."

"I'll think about it."

"Great! We'll be there to pick you up in half an hour!"

Connor sighed, running his hand down his face. I guess he was going out tonight. He should probably feed the fish before he goes.

........

Markus showed up and eyed Connor's outfit.

"Do you own other outfits?" The RK800 was wearing his usual button-up and tie, though rather than his labeled blazer, he was wearing a brown jacket. 

"Is there a problem with my attire?" It seemed adequate, just a bit casual. He adjusted his tie, to which Markus took it and pulled it off. The leader knew of Connor's ticks, and he wasn't about to spend the whole night watching him play with his tie. Connor said nothing, though he pouted a little. You bought him that tie. Still, he left it off. When it came to fashion, it seems that Markus knew best. 

"I think we should go clothes shopping sometime. Are you ready?" Connor nodded, giving his friend a half-smile. 

In the car, Markus and Simon sat upfront while North, Josh, and Connor sat in the back. Josh was brave enough to be the barrier between North and Connor. She still hasn't forgiven him for hunting his own people, or Jericho, or pointing a gun at Markus on stage at Hart Plaza. Connor, on the other hand, does not understand her desire for senseless violence or her hatred for all humans. Some resentment was understandable, considering her background, but she takes it to the extreme.

"So, where's Y/n? I didn't see her inside. Is she at work?" Markus asked. He met you on several occasions, watching Connor light up when you were in the vicinity. This time, however, Connor's expression darkened.

"I don't know. She's working a case. I'm not allowed to know where." 

"I'm sorry to hear that, " Markus internally cringed. Not a good start to the night.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" Simon looked at Connor through the rearview mirror, seeing him cross his arms as he curled into himself.

"No."

"Well, hopefully soon."

"Way to go, killing the mood, Connor, " North smirked. It was apparent she didn't want him there any more than he did her.

"Nothing a few drinks can't fix. Let's just enjoy tonight, " Josh placated.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Connor knows how Hank struggles with his addiction. He has personally had to deal with some of the lieutenant's worst days, spewing insults one moment then adamantly apologizing for the next. With his help, Hank had cut down significantly, but he still occasionally has his bad days, like on anniversaries.

"From what I understand, it's perfectly safe. It's thirium-based with several chemicals that affect androids in a way similar to alcohol in humans. It all gets worked out through the filter, though if you drink too much, you need a way to remove the excess fluids." Simon explained.

In other words, unless an android planned on purging his system, they needed functioning genitalia. In this aspect, Connor was fortunate, as he was actually built with such a thing. It was the easiest way to remove evidence that he samples. It's all collected in his filter where it gets broken down in a specialized, biodegradable cleanser, and once a month he drains it and has to drink a bottle of said cleanser to replenish his system. When he started dating you, he upgraded so his component could have "other" functions.

It still sounded like a bad idea, but he didn't want to dampen the mood any more than he already has.

.........

The bar had reserved a private table for them in the back. North was quick to break off from the group, leaving the men to gather at the table. The music was pumping out deep bass, androids dancing together and having fun. Connor just felt out of his element. The owner, upon seeing them, sent over a round of blue liquid in shot glasses.

"Let's loosen you up!" Markus handed Connor one of the drinks, then held his shot glass up, prompting everyone else to do the same.

"To freedom!" He cheered.

"To freedom!" Simon and Josh agreed, downing their drinks. Connor hesitated. He dipped his tongue into his glass, wincing at the flavor. This seemed more like poison than a drink.

"Are you aware that some of the elements in this drink can be quite harmful to us if consumed in large quantities?" Connor asked, incredulous that they would be so willing to put that in their systems.

"Yes, but so is alcohol in humans." Markus set his glass down and a female android wearing a tight-fitting black dress took the glass and replaced it with a full one. "You don't have to, but you should try it. Live a little!"

Connor regarded the drink once more. Maybe he's being a bit over-cautious. He downed the drink, coughing as it burned down his throat. The table cheered again, patting Connor on the back. It seemed safe enough. His system didn't immediately try to purge it. He didn't feel any different either. When the next round of shots was set, he drank it down. Then, another. And another.

.........

"Have you ever met him? He's an asshole." Connor shook his head.

"But it was he who created the basis for all androids." Simon intervened.

"So, because he's the reason we exist, he's not an asshole?" The RK800 scoffed.

"According to ancient mythology, that should make him even more of an asshole," Josh added.

"What are you talking about?" Markus was walking back, or rather, stumbling back. Apparently, intoxicated Markus likes to dance.

"Kamski," Simon answered.

"Assholes." Connor and Josh answered at the same time. They all shared a laugh.

Connor drank down another shot. Was this his eighth or twelfth? He didn't know and, for the first time, he didn't care. He felt pretty good. Loose. Like his body was made of jello. He tried to join Markus on the dance floor, but when he went to stand, his gyroscope was malfunctioning and before he realized it, he was on the floor, joining in with his friends laughing as they attempted to help him back to his seat, dropping him twice and Josh fell down himself. Instead, they started talking about how much has changed in the last two years, what they hope to do in the future, and now, they were talking about when Kamski returned to Cyberlife. It might have been a good move for the company, but that didn't mean Connor trusted the man. Still, it was fun, just talking and joking.

 If only the other patrons at the bar would leave him alone with his friends. There must have been a dozen women who tried to get him to dance with them or buy them a drink. Even after he explained he was in a relationship, they didn't seem to care. One even sat on his lap, which he instinctively pushed her off. She did not appreciate that.

Despite it all, the atmosphere was light and jovial. Connor was glad he went out. This was significantly better than sitting and waiting. Maybe, when you get back, he'll invite you...

"Why can't humans come here?"

"Because most of them are assholes, " Simon joked, taking another shot.

"Not all of them." You weren't.

"Aww, does the detective miss his master?" North chided. She rejoined the table. She was with two other women, one of which he recognized as the woman he shoved to the ground.

"She's not my master, she's my lover, and she's far better company than you or your friends, " Connor sneered. The air did a sudden 180°, filled with hostility.

"Okay, let's calm down, " Markus tried to come between them, to keep the peace, but for North, peace was never an option.

"What? Too good for your own kind?" 

"Too good for this conversation, " Connor smirked, taking another shot. North, not the type to take being dismissed, knew exactly what to say to rile him up.

"I bet you think you mean something to your "lover". Your little human would fuck any android that asks. Probably what she's doing now."

That did it. Connor was on his feet in seconds, though he stumbled slightly as the world turned. 

"Listen here, you conniving bitch! You can talk shit about me all you want, but you leave her out of your goddamn mouth. Because you had a tough start to life, everyone else has to suffer? At least you didn't have a psychotic, murderous AI controlling all your actions, though, you two probably would have had a lot in common." Connor got in her face, next venomous words leaving his lips as a growl, "It's a shame you had to kill someone before the new laws. I would have loved seeing you carried to prison, kicking and screaming."

She punched him in the face. It threw him off balance and he fell back, catching himself on Josh. She stormed off before anything more could be said, her friends laughing. Connor got back to his feet, about ready to go after her when Markus took his shoulder.

"Why don't we call it a night?" 

.............

Connor sat in the passenger side of Markus' self-driving car, poking at his cheek. A ring she had been wearing had cut into the syn-skin, making it leak. It was already sealed and healing, but he was still pissed off. To avoid conflict, North caught a ride with one of her friends.

"I just don't understand her problem with humans. Not all of them used her for sex. Y/n definitely wouldn't! She loves me, not that sour... Tart. If she was there, she would have kicked North's ass!" He was ranting, and Markus had to keep himself from laughing.

"I know, Connor, I know."

"Who's that on your porch?" Simon asked. There was someone in a gray hoodie curled up on the front step. When Connor saw, he jumped out of the car before it stopped moving, falling to the ground. He quickly made it back to his feet while scrambling to get closer. The commotion awoke the person sleeping there, looking up to see what's going on. 

"Y/n!" Connor bowled into you, knocking you back onto the porch. "I've missed you!" He nuzzled against you, making no moves to get up.

"I've... I've missed you... God, you're heavy! I've missed you, too." Markus came up, trying to pull him off you, but Connor's iron clasp brought you up with him. He was still snuggling against you, swaying on his feet.

"Markus, what's going on?" You asked, noticing he wasn't exactly the portrait of perfection either, over-correcting his steps and laughing.

"Have you heard of the new drinks for androids?" Markus smiled. "It looks like you can handle it from here. See you later, Connor!"

"Wait, Markus! What..." But the man sped off to his car, tripping on the front bumper, and you were certain you heard laughter coming from inside. You stood, six feet of drunken android hanging off your shoulders.

"Do you have your keys?" You asked.

Connor pulled back, checking each pocket thoroughly. After a few minutes, he smiled in triumph, pulling out his keychain. You took it from him and unlocked the door.

"Well, this explains why you weren't answering my calls."

"You called me?" He was baffled. He tried to pull up his call log on his HUD, but it glitched out and closed on its own.

"Yep. At least ten times. I lost my keys. I knew you weren't at work, and Hank has his phone turned off again, so I couldn't ask for his copy. I figured you were at Jericho, so I'd just wait for you." Connor won't answer calls if he's in a meeting. He has a number for emergencies, but it's not like the two of you lived in a bad neighborhood, and it was a nice night, if not just a tad chilly.

"I'm sorry, " he sounded so sad, you made the mistake of turning and looking at him. Eyes doleful, wet with unshed tears, lips pouted. No human or android should be able to pull off the sad puppy look so well!

"It's fine! You should hang with your friends more!"

"I'm sorry."

"It was only ten minutes, tops." Actually, over an hour.

"I'm sorry." A tear escaped one of his eyes. 

"No! It's fine! Don't cry!" You pulled him into a hug, which he immediately sank in to. "Come on, let's get you to the couch." You more carried him to it, tripping on the end table in the dark. You finally got him down, breathing a sigh of relief. You went to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Where are you going? You just got home!"

"To turn on the lights and get a glass of water." You kissed his forehead, "I'm not going anywhere."

He reluctantly released your arm. Still pouting as he leaned back.

You went about turning on the lights.

"How did everything go?"

"Professionally? Very well. Personally? Worst time of my life." You came back, setting your drink on the counter. With the lights on, he had a clear view of your face. Your left eye was bruised, and you had a split lip. Your neck was also discolored, as if someone had tried to choke you.

"Who did this to you?" He cupped your cheek, trying to get a better view, but his damn vision kept swimming. Who would dare to hurt you? Death will be a blessing when he gets his hands on them.

"Connor, I'm fine. They're already behind bars anyway. Some guy was plastered and wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Where was your back-up?" You didn't answer him. They didn't want to 'risk the investigation' over something you should be able to handle. Just because they were right, doesn't make it right.  

"I don't want you going undercover again. I don't care how many lives are at stake!"

"Calm down, " you took hold of his hand, but he pulled out of your grasp, taking your upper arms as he pleaded with you.

"No! I want you to promise me you won't do this again! I can't lose you! I didn't want you to do it before, and now you're injured! Next time, it could be worse! Just, please... I can't control your life, but please don't do this again." He leaned his head forward, resting against your stomach. "Please."

"Okay, " your hands went to stroke along the back of his neck, "I promise." You lifted his head, gazing into his eyes. "I promise, okay?" He closes his eyes, savoring the words, knowing you will be safe, that he can help keep you safe. 

He felt your lips on his, your hands running along his scalp. He was quick to respond. In this moment, he was no longer sitting in a house.

This was what home felt like.

When you pulled away, his eyes remained closed for a moment, lips curling into a smile. You giggled as he opened his eyes and you weren't sure if he was dazed from drinking or from the kiss. It was a perfect moment...

Ruined when your stomach started to grumble.

"Sometimes, it really sucks to be human. All I wanna do is love on my man after not seeing him for almost a month, but my stomach can't go twelve hours without making a fuss." You gave him a final peck on the forehead before heading to the kitchen. Unwilling to leave you alone for a second, Connor stumbled after you.

Opening the fridge, you were met with bottles of condiments and nothing else.

"I cleaned out the fridge last week. I didn't know when you'd be back." Connor found himself staring at your ass when you bent down to look in the crisper, as if food will magically manifest in the little drawers. He found the way it moved to be quite hypnotic,  swaying back and forth.

"Guess I'm on frozen dinner." You grabbed one, fiddling with the package before chucking it into the microwave. In that time, Connor had moved behind you.

"You're very pretty, " he spoke, pressing up against you and hugging you.

"And you're very drunk, " you giggled. He started to sway back and forth, dancing to music only he could hear.

"Wanna go to the zoo?" He mumbled in your ear.

"I'm pretty sure they're closed right now."

"They have an android dragon, now."

"That's cool but they're still closed."

"And a mermaid."

"And despite that, they are still closed!" You exclaimed.

"But... I wanna go..." Came his whine.

You turned in his arms, putting your hands on his shoulders as you both continued to sway. Connor was pouting again. So cute.

"We can go tomorrow, when they are open, okay?"

"...fine." He smiled down at you, happy to have you home. He wants to hold you close for the next month to make up for lost time. You rested your head against him as he pulled you closer. "I've missed you, " he whispered, closing his eyes as he rested against your head.

"I've missed you, too. Not one minute went by that I didn't wish I was curled up next to you, " you murmured, listening to the thrums of his thirium pump. You didn't even hear the microwave go off, nor did you care at this moment.

Connor's hands slowly started roaming, creeping from their place on your hips to your ass, gently kneading it. You would be lying if you said it didn't feel nice. Three weeks of running around a bar wearing high heels can really put a strain on your body. Your soft moan encouraged him to grab just a little harder, pushing you flush against his pelvis, getting a good idea of just how much he missed you.

"Someone's feeling frisky, " you chuckled.

"I think I have an addictive personality. I just can't get enough of you. Will you enable me?" He punctuated the last sentence by grinding against you.

"You must be drunk to think you need pick-up lines to get to me, " your own hands started to wander from his shoulders, sliding across his pecs to his waist, then his hips where you traced along his pelvic "bone" before pulling away, just as your stomach decided to make you aware of your food cooling in the microwave. "Human needs overpower human desires. You have to wait."

Once again, Connor pouted, but he agreed. As you ate, you both sat on the couch, tv on but at a low volume. You asked about what he's been up to and if he had fun tonight. He told you about North being a bitch and how you should kick her ass if you ever meet her, earning a laugh from you. When you finished your food, you got up to put your dish in the sink. On the way back, you started undoing your shirt buttons for what is to come.

Or rather, what was to come. Connor had laid down and must have found it so comfortable, he entered sleep mode. His LED spun a lazy blue. He looked so relaxed. You turned off the lights and grabbed a blanket. Then, you took off your jeans and laid down on top of him. Other than his LED flickering a little faster for a moment, he didn't react. Lastly, you tossed the blanket over you both, laying your head down and letting his artificial heart be your lullaby.

.........

The next morning, Connor woke up in a daze. The sunlight seemed too bright from the blinds, prompting him to close his eyes as he connected to the house system and closed them. There was a pressure in his lower abdomen. A warning was flashing on his HUD informing him of his need to remove excess fluids. He went to sit up, only to realize there was another weight on top of him. He opened his eyes, finding you laying across his body. You looked so peaceful, eyes closed, mouth slightly open as you lightly snored. He could lay here forever, but the warnings kept flashing, and the pressure in his groin felt so uncomfortable. Why did he have to drink so much? 

He fought with himself, trying not to move until it was getting to be too much. Gently, he rolled over, trying to ease you onto the couch. He did not notice how your arms wrapped around his neck, locked together. When he stood up, your weight pulled him back down. You whined out a protest to being moved, making him freeze as he tried to get you to let go.

"Love? Could you let go, please?" He whispered into your ear. Your lips curled as you kept your eyes closed.

"I could, " you mumbled. He sighed.

"Would you please release me? I need to use the restroom."

"No, I don't really want to." The warnings started flashing brighter, making his head throb.

"Please, love? Sweetheart? I really need to go, " he spoke, borderline desperate. When you didn't answer, he stood, once again bringing you up, practically carrying you towards the bathroom, all the while you were giggling. The blanket tangled around his feet and he fell backwards to the ground.

"Please, Y/n, let me go! I'll do anything!" 

"Say,  'Y/n is the nicest, most beautiful woman in the world and it is an honor for me to be graced by her presence'!"

"Y/n is the nicest, most beautif-" you cut him off with a kiss. It was so brief, he chased after your lips when you pulled back.

"Close enough, " you snickered, releasing him and pushing off from his chest. You offered your hand to him to help him up, which he took, laughing as you struggled to haul him up. 

Quickly, he pulled you close and kissed you.

"When I'm finished, we're picking up where we left off, " he smirked before dashing off, leaving you shook for a moment.

"I'll hold you to that!" You called after him, looking forward to a proper 'Welcome Home'.

[taronfanfic]

Fast Forward

Chapter 24

The loudest chorus of birdsong woke you and Taron at the same time, a simultaneous groan of annoyance making you both giggle and then move in closer together beneath the covers.

“Let’s go back to sleep.” You hummed as Taron’s thumb stroked gently across the soft skin of your stomach. Having him spoon you was one of your favourite things; you felt so safe, secure and loved. You closed your eyes and hoped that your sleepy state would wash back over you and give you another hour of rest in Taron’s arms.

“What time is it?” He asked before placing a few quick kisses to the back of your neck. You opened your eyes again and groggily reached out to the bedside table for the watch you’d gifted him the morning before.

“8:40, ish.”

“Ok.”

“Just another 20 minutes.” You mumbled as you closed your eyes again, but Taron wasn’t staying settled behind your back and the feel of his arousal pressing against your arse told you why. His hand drifted down to your core, his index finger rubbing softly between your folds and finding your nub. “Taron.” You groaned.

“Yes, love?” He answered innocently.

“Mmmm, god you’re impossible to resist.” You caved instantly and turned onto your back, opening your legs wider for him and taking him between your thighs as he moved himself over you.

“I know,” he smirked, “just relax, we’ll take this one slow.” The morning sunlight had his eyes looking a lighter shade of green as he gazed down lovingly at you. The sex the night before was hot and filthy, eyes were dark with lust, skin sweaty and your bodies moved heavily against one another. It was intense and full of pleasure and passion. The tone for the morning was the complete opposite. Taron pushed himself into you slowly, checking you were alright after the pounding he’d given you just hours before and you nodded up at him sweetly to let him continue. He circled his hips a few times before lowering his chest down against yours and taking the tender kisses you had on offer. Your hands stroked through the back of his hair as you kissed him good morning, both of you smiling happily as Taron continued to fuck you slowly. There was a flinch of pleasure which flashed across your face as he found the sweet spot inside you.

“There, yes.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling your knees up higher so you could wrap your ankles over him.  

“I’ve got you.” Taron replied as he kept his position and started to work a little faster to keep the momentum. The loving softness had your head spinning for him. It wasn’t often that both of you were in this mood but when it happened you were completely inseparable for the rest of the day. He couldn’t be any closer to you physically, but still you craved more, reaching up to kiss him with a hunger this time. Your hips rocked together, bodies taking each movement with ease and heating up to your releases. Moans were soft but encouraging, hands clinging and stroking tenderly as the pleasure built. You panted out again and again as Taron’s thrusts became that bit sharper and harder. There was no holding back or waiting on the edge, your body was all too willing to let go and you tensed around Taron’s length over and over as he pushed through your orgasm to his own release. Heavy sighs filled the room as Taron pulled out and rolled off you onto his back.

“Fuck the 20-minute snooze, I’ll have that every morning thanks.” You said with a big smile as you turned to face him and placed your hand to his chest. “That was really, really nice.”

“It was, and I’m so pleased I ordered us a massive breakfast because I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

“Shall I go see if it’s been delivered?” Taron placed a kiss to the back of your hand before admiring your naked body as you left the bed to collect the breakfast hamper from the hatch. All the sweet treats he’d ordered for you were in there; warm pancakes and waffles with syrup, cream, fruit and a selection of pastries on the side. The smell was divine, and Taron’s face lit up with excitement when he sat up in bed at the sight of you returning with the huge hamper.

“Oh my word!”

“If the rest of the day carries on like this, it could well be the best day of my life.”

“No pressure then.” Taron laughed nervously and you softly hit his shoulder before passing him the plate of pancakes and little bottle of syrup.

“Shush, you. I was joking… My Mum always says the best day of her life was the day I was born, so I guess I should hold off with that declaration until we’re a good few years down the line.”

“How many kids do you think we’ll have?” Taron asked without a single hesitation and it left you smiling widely to yourself.

“At least 2, maybe 3 though? 4 seems like a lot.”

“Space them out enough and it would be fine… keeps the fun coming, right?”

“In which sense of the word?” You laughed. “Contraceptives exist for a reason!”

“Good job too at the rate we’ve been going in the last 24 hours!”

“It’s a hard life being this attractive, let alone having to spend 24 hours with the most gorgeous man in the world.”

“Such a chore.” Taron rolled his eyes and you laughed together before noticing the rain tapping against the glass doors as it started to fall from the ever-darkening sky.

“I think we should stay in bed until we have to leave.” You were deliberately suggestive but Taron shook his head.

“I packed for the weather so we’re walking down to the beach whether you like it or not!... but I think you will like it.” He grinned. “And it’ll be deserted as no one else will be foolish enough to go out with this storm on the way.”

“You’re mad.” You shook your head as you wondered why you were agreeing to it.

“But that’s why you love me.” He grinned.

***

The zip on your coat couldn’t go any higher up, you had two pairs of socks on to help fill your wellies and your burgundy beanie hat helping to keep the wind from filling your face with hair as soon as you stepped out the door. Taron pulled the hood of your coat up over your hat before kissing your forehead.

“You look so adorable.” Adorable wasn’t the look you were going for, but you didn’t have much choice, and somehow Taron still managed to look hot with his hoodie pulled up over his baseball cap and his thick coat looking much warmer than yours felt.

You started the walk hand in hand, arms swinging happily between you despite walking into the blustery wind and steady light rain. The road stopped at the last treehouse and a style guided you over the wooden fence and onto the footpath through the dense forest. It took you down towards a small stream which was flowing quickly over the rocks and you stopped for a minute to take in how secluded your surroundings were.

“Think how packed the spa is gonna be today.”

“It’d be horrendous.” You replied, pulling your hood down now the forest had given you more shelter from the rain. “This was a much better idea.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.” Taron joked before pulling you in against his chest and hugging you tightly. “I love it when it’s just us.”

“Me too.” You placed a kiss to his cheek and he demanded you gave him another one whilst he took a photo on his phone and immediately set it as his background.

“Do you think about anything else when we’re together like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do other things ever appear in your mind like friends, or work, family, things you need to do when you get home? Mundane life stuff.” Taron clarified as he kept his arm around your shoulders whilst you continued the walk down through the forest.

“I guess sometimes, but less than normal. Why? What’s going on in there?” You tapped the top of his head softly.

“It’s just you, and us. Honestly. I don’t know if it’s because it’s today… our anniversary away, but it’s like time slows down when I’m with you. Everything else isn’t important. It doesn’t even feature.”

“Really?”

“Is that weird?”

“No, it’s the sweetest thing… it makes sense too. I do get lost in you too, but I think recently I’ve been more aware of other things because they’ve worried me. It’s harder to let worries go.”

“Understandably.”

“But since I spoke to my Mum yesterday it’s been nothing but you in here.” You smiled at Taron as you placed your finger to your temple. “I’ve loved every single second of it too.”

“Well good, and now I know it’s not just me being completely besotted by you.”

“Oh it’s reciprocated alright!” There was a shared cheesy grin between you before the forest started to open out and the harsh wind started to batter against your faces again.

“Fucking hell!” Taron shouted as he turned his back to the wind.

“Have we got far to go?” You called out as you pulled your hood back up over your hat and squinted out ahead of you, trying to work out if the horizon was pure cloud or if some of it was actually the sea.

“I don’t think so, come on.” He took your hand again and you laughed as you leant forward to try and walk into the wind. Before long the last few trees and shrubs ended and a path down onto the half pebbled, half sandy beach appeared. There was no one else in sight, not even a lone dog walker at the far end of the beach. Taron let go of your hand and ran down into the harshly breaking waves, backing off as they splashed up his wellies and started to dampen his jeans. “Shit!” He mouthed out at you, not noticing a bigger wave breaking behind him until it splashed up the back of his jeans and took him by surprise.

“You’re such an idiot!” You laughed as he ran back up the beach to join you.

“It’s fucking freezing! Don’t do what I just did.” He laughed with you.

“I wasn’t going to, you’re alright.”

“Found anywhere sheltered yet?”

“No! It’s a deserted beach with a gale force wind coming straight off the sea.”

“Ah… I’ll just have to shout then.” Taron commented before turning his back to you for a moment.

“What?”

“I said I’ll just have to shout!” He repeated before dropping to one knee in front of you, clutching a small black box in his hands.

“Taron, no!” You shook your head in total shock, your hands covering your eyes as you turned away from him in disbelief.

“Y/N!” He shouted, waiting for you to look back at him before he continued. “I’ve known you’re the one I want to marry for so long now. To spend the rest of my life with you, to have you carry my children and bring them into this world… it would make me the happiest I could be. I want you by my side forever, as my wife, so please, will you marry me?” You took a second to wipe the tears from your eyes and commit the sight of Taron down on one knee to your memory before nodding quickly at him.

“Yes! Of course I will!” You shouted your reply over the wind and placed your hands to Taron’s cheeks before leaning down to kiss him. “Yes.” You repeated against his lips. He tugged you down by the waist to sit in the pebbles next to him so he could slide your engagement ring safely onto your finger.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly. “That was such a surprise!”

“I knew I could get you.” He smirked as he locked his lips to yours for another kiss. “I know you’ll be thinking that I really was going to ask you last night, but I promise you I wasn’t. This was always the plan.”

“No, I believed you last night which is why I didn’t see this coming today at all!... I was happy to wait, I didn’t think you’d, oh wow we’re really engaged!” You looked down to the ring, shining and sparkling even in the gloomy weather and Taron could only giggle back at your reaction.

“We should head back before we get soaked.”

“Let me take a photo first, because no one’s gonna believe you did it in this weather!” With photos of your ring and wellies, your windswept hair, rosy cheeks and beaming smiles and one of Taron’s sea-spashed jeans for good measure taken, you let him help you back to your feet and made your way up through the forest to the treehouse.

Your wet coats and boots were left by the door to dry, Taron changed out of his soggy jeans too and then joined you under a blanket on the sofa to warm up. It was a rare moment of calmness as you both sat looking out at the view, taking in everything that had happened and wondering how you got so lucky in life. You found Taron’s hand beneath the blanket and linked your fingers through with his, noticing how different it felt now there was a new ring on your finger.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to tell anyone else yet?”

“Why not?” Taron asked softly.

“Things are better when it’s just you and me. It’s never complicated.”

“Let’s keep it between us for a bit longer then. Everyone else can wait and we can have our moment in peace.”  

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled to Taron as you snuggled in against his side and rest your head on his shoulder. “The perfect day continues.”

Taglist: @egerton-sweetie  @amanda-tallmadge @lizziespidiepridie @leanimal90 @anantheminmyheart22 @aynsleywalker​ @bohemianrhapsody86​ @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi @manners-maketh-taron @livingincompletesilence@marvelmakeuplover @ohsosmutty@misspygmypie  @manners-maketh-a-kingsman@courtmr @baileythepenguin@thomaslefteyebrow @witchymarvelspacecase @samanthasmileys@nellietara @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @wheresmylightinthedark@kurtis-conner@hoe4dior @toky-9101 @mayaslifeinabox@fluentlyspeakingtreason @yallyallblanchett @whiskeylipsx@emmaelizabeth2014​ @primaba11erina @fightuntilyoucan @carlita2025 @rocknrollmadden@walking-stressed-mess @dogmom2014 @aberystwythboy

[awesometheydontknowiamhere]

Store Bought Hugs

Diego Hargreeves X Plus Sized Female!Reader

Requested: Yes, by the lovely @reblogserpent

“ Idk if your requests are open If you write for Diego Hargreeves could you do a Diego x plus size reader where they are dating and he offers his sweatshirt to her but she doesn’t wanna wear it cause she’s scared you know cause afraid it’ll stretch or afraid it’ll look bad cause he’s so fit but in reality it would fit her fine and she starts to panic trying to like push him away when he’s trying to help idk just some fluff maybe his stutter in it idk. Thank you in advance”

Summary: Diego and his girlfriend go out on a long due date under the night sky when a cold breeze blows their way. Diego offers his sweatshirt like the true gentleman he is but his lady love is adamant and tries her best to not wear it lest it’s too small for her frame. A heartfelt conversation and a words of encouragement follow. Fluffy date night ends in smut with body positivity peppered in.

A/N: I hard for this one and I really hope that you like it. Writing request based fics is new to me but it’s also a healthy exercise for my writing muscles. Looking forward to your feedback.

Body image issues is something I am all too familiar with, so all my lovely girls and boys, we come in all size and shapes because each of us are crafted and not printed from moulds. Stay proud of your mortal shells, but always remember it’s the inside that counts.

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Diego Hargreaves X Plus Size Reader

Word count: 1484

Warning: None, really. Just mentions of insecurity, slight body image issues. Kissing and nothing more. Mentions of smut (very brief)

Taglist:  @wh3n-1t-ra1ns-1t-p0urs   @imultifandomstuff @w0nder-marie @chloemac86 @theladywholivesonthemoon   @hemogobllin @pansexualpaperdragons @gorgeourrific-nerd  @purplezebra68 @vividholland @bands-and-shietz @onlydeanandjensen @slither-in-a-half @reblogserpent @missscarlett1802 @lovelyheadrush   @mrsdiegohargreeves  @mrsdiegohargreeves   @katylovescats @vividholland @lilithsweetghost @ynm1505 @siriusjohnpotter @ratfuckb0y @loulouloueh

________________________________________________________________

You looked around you, soaking up the sight of your stunning boyfriend and the star-studded night sky. You were well-fed, well-loved and incredibly happy in that moment.

"What are you thinking about?"

Diego kissed your knuckles as he waited for your answer.

"Just looking for words to express my gratitude," you said smiling softly at him. He had truly gone above and beyond with the planning an dexecution of your highly anticipated date night. His dark, leathered exterior was in stark contrast to the plaid sheet and the wicker basket which had held an assortment of fruits coated in chocolate, quiche and a decadent chocolate cake.

"Just tell me you're happy and that's all the thanks I could ever want. After not seeing enough of you for nearly month, this is the least I could do. Maybe you could pay me with that body of yours," he said with a wink. You bit your lip and blushed.

"How did you even discover this place?"

"Being a vigilante comes with a few perks. I get to explore every nook and cranny of the city and that's how I stumbled upon this gem," he said motioning his hand towards the trees around you and the cloud-free night sky above you.

"It's breathtaking, but not as breathtaking as you," you said with a smile.

A quick blush crept up his cheecks. "Oh, th-thanks, Y/N. Tha-that's sweet of you," he stammered.

Compliments sometimes caught him off-guard and you loved that yu could see the effect of your words so directly on him.

You leaned into him to kiss him and he met you halfway, burrowing his hands in your hair. Your palms rested against his firm chest as his tongue snaked into your mouth. A cold breeze caressed your skin and you mentally kicked yourself for wearing a flimsy sundress. It had seemed like a wise choice in the evening, the idea of a picnic in the moonlight with your dress flowing softly around your thighs.

"Baby, are you cold?"

Diego rubbed his warm palms over your exposed arms and you basked in his heat before sitting up straight. You shook your head side to side to indicate no. Another wave of cold air hit you and your skin broke out in goosebumps.

Diego raised his eyebrow at that, an all-knowing grin playing at his lips.

"Let me get something for you," he said as he dove into the duffel bag containing all the picnic supplies.

To your utter dismay, he fished out his midnight blue sweatshirt. You controlled your face to not give away your worries, but that was proving harder than you had anticipated. You simply could not ignore your body and how it would either mess up his sweatshirt or worse, not fit at all.

You were larger than most girls depicted in media and you had made peace with it. Your curves defined you, your softness an added charm to your personality. Sadly, on some occasions the cruel voice of societal beauty standards crept into your mind, filling you with doubt and a sliver of shame. It was the same voice which forbade from wearing swimsuits during pool parties in college, that told you to wear dark colours because they have a slimming effect and stopped you from ordering anything that wasn't a salad. It was currently telling you that there was no way in hell you were going to fit into Diego's sweatshirt.

Diego scooted over to you, laying the garment on your lap.

"Umm, thanks but it's okay Diego, I am not cold anymore," you said through imperceptibly gritted teeth.

"Come on babe, you know I am not letting my angel freeze in the cold night air," he said sticking to his guns.

You looked up at the sky and begged the universe to keep you tears-free.

"I am fine, I don't need your sweatshirt," you said trying to be a little rough with him so that he would quit it.

It would have worked, it really would had you not subconcioulsy wrapped your arms around yourself.

"Y/N, angel, I  know for a fact that you're cold right now. Why won't you take this?" He sounded genuinely upset and curious, but there was no possible way for you to explain your apprehension without him thinking you were an insecure mess.

You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes.

"I don't think it will fit," you said in a low voice. He was silent and you wondered if he hadn't heard you. You weren't going to repeat yourself, that was for sure.

He lifted you chin up and fixed his eyes on your face.

“Is that what this is about? You’re sitting here, shivering, and freezing your butt off because you think you might not fit into my clothes?”

You winced as you heard him say it out loud, your insecurity laid bare in front of you. You started backing away from him, removing his hand from your face.

“Baby, I am not done here,” he said, firmly planting his knee on the edge of your dress.

“Let it go, Diego. It’s not going to fit, I know my body. It’s not the first time and it’s definitely not the last,” you said, accepting defeat.

He held your hand and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You’re being silly, angel. I know your body too and I promise it will fit. I am going to turn around and you’re going to put this on. If you want to keep it on or take it of regardless of it fits or not is up to you. Just please, try it,” he said, almost begging.  

With that he turned around, facing the trees. You understood his desperate attempt to build your confidence and you just wanted to make him smile.

You glanced at the garment lying beside you. A lifetime passed and you picked it up. Your heart was pounding, fighting for dominance against the voices in your head. You quelled them both and slipped it over your head.  You were shocked as it flowed smoothly over your curves not finding resistance anywhere.

It smelled of Diego, a heavenly cocktail of all things manly and intense. It felt warm and soft over your prickled skin, almost like a store-bought hug from him.

“Diego,” you called out to him, a quiver in your voice.

He turned and looked at you, his eyes lighting up with a smile. His hands went up to your neck and pulled out your hair from inside the neckline. He placed a quick kiss on your lips and leaned back to admire you.

“Thank you,” you said, thanking for both, the garment and the borrowed confidence.

“Thank you for trusting me, angel,” he said, toying with a chunk of your hair.

“Can I ask you something? You can tell to piss of if you don’t want to answer.”

You nodded with a smile.

“What happened to you just now? I have never seen you like this. Where did all the doubt come from, angel?”

I don’t know, I just realized I wasn’t as tiny or as petite as most girls, so I thought I didn’t want to ruin or stretch out your clothes,” you said, not quite meeting is eyes.

“Okay, first of all, not everybody is built the same. And where you’re using the term not tiny, I prefer words lush, addictive, inviting and sinfully sensual. Where would I be with your soft cuddles and warm heat to come home to?”

You felt a smile tugging at your lips and you moved with him to lie down on your backs, looking up at the sky.

“Let me hit you with facts now. I easily tower over you and my shoulders are any day broader than yours. Simple math, angle,” he said, tapping you on the nose.

“I am sorry I dampened the mood,” you whispered, a wave of guilt passing over you.

“You couldn’t do that even if you tried. Don’t you know, you’re too adorable for that?” he said turning to face you.

His thumb brushed your cheek as both of looked at each other. You bit your lip and he whispered, “Have I told you how incredible you look in my clothes?”

He rose up on his elbows and kissed your pulse point on the neck. “The things I want to do to you, knowing that you’re wearing my clothes. It’s almost like you’re declaring yourself mine all over again.”

His tongue continued to explore your neck as he hooked your legs at his waist. Your breath hitched and you let out a whimper as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth.  His hands went to your full hips, stroking your curve over the soft fabric.

As he bunched up the fabric over your hips, you realized maybe wearing a dress wasn’t such a bad idea.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 15

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by Dara.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: You know that thing little kids do, where they throw a tantrum, break a toy, and then cry because they realize that now they're one toy short and got no one else to blame? That's it, that's Ernesto here. 

***

“Car seat.”

“Mmmh?”

“We’ll need a baby car seat. I mean, a car seat for the baby.”

A yawn, and Imelda shifts on her side, eyes still shut. “Yes,” she mumbles. “We’ll need a car seat.”

“We can go buy it tomorrow,” Héctor suggests, eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling.

“The baby is not due for another six months, Héctor.”

“Well-- sometimes babies are born early! Months early.”

“If that happens, I suspect the car seat would be the least of our problems.”

“If something goes wrong--”

“Héctor.”

“Sí?”

“Don’t even say that. All is going well.”

Ah, right - right. No need to fear nightmare scenarios, is there? Imelda sailed through the first trimester without a hitch, after all, but bringing up things that can possibly go wrong is not something she needs. Not something either of them needs.

“Right. All is well,” Héctor sighs, and turns to kiss the bridge of her nose. Imelda’s eyes stay shut, but the slight frown smooths into a sleepy half-smile. “Our baby is well. Got the best mamá,” he adds, only to mentally kick himself a moment later. 

Was that something he was supposed to say? What if something does go wrong, and Imelda thinks of what he’s just muttered now and thinks that she isn’t the best mamá after all and-- no, he can’t think like that, it’ll drive him loco. What was he talking about in the first place?

“... The car seat. Right. I’ll write it down,” he mutters, bolting off the bed and stumbling over his discarded trousers to get to the desk and jot that down. Imelda groans.

“It’s three in the morning, Héctor.”

“I know, I know, just making sure I don’t forget. Oh! Speaking of forgetting, it needs to be the kind with the alarm.”

“The alarm?”

“So that it sounds if we forget the baby in the car!”

“Why would we forget our baby in the--”

“It can happen, I read about it, and small children can die of heat exposure if left in the car too long. This guy in Guadalajara did just last summer, and the baby--” he trails off, too anguished to finish. Imelda notices, and sits up as well, holding out an arm in a silent invitation. Héctor is back in bed with her the next moment with a sigh and he leans down, arms around her and face tucked against her throat. Imelda hums, brushing back his hair.

“No such thing will happen,” she says. “But if it helps you relax, we’ll get the car seat with the alarm. All right?”

He smiles against her skin, a little sheepishly. “All right. Sorry, I’m just-- worried. Ernesto always says I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t firmly screwed to my neck. Said I’d probably forget the baby at the park or something.”

“Oh, is that what he says?” Imelda asks, her voice a little colder and frame stiffening, as always when Ernesto is brought up. 

Ever since they ended the arrangement, he and Imelda have hardly met. At first Héctor found it normal; he was angry and hurt. For a time, Ernesto didn’t really want to see him either. Now they met regularly for gigs or to discuss new songs or the upcoming launch of their album over a drink with their manager - so… mostly for work, really. 

It’s not like before, of course, but Héctor is fairly sure it is only a matter of time before they’re friends as always. Even though Ernesto’s jabs and jokes are a little heavier than before, his smile just a little more like sneers, and he hasn’t so much mentioned Imelda or the baby in his presence - let alone asked how they’re doing. 

He never asks. Like it doesn’t matter. Like neither exists. But surely, it’s only a matter of time. When he asks him to be his child’s godfather he’ll be delighted, just as Óscar and Felipe were excited beyond words at the prospect of being, in their own words, the cool uncles.

“We’ll teach the baby everything we know,” they told them, causing… some concern. 

Unaware of his thoughts, Imelda speaks again. “You shouldn’t let him talk to you like that,” she mutters, and Héctor sighs, pulling back a little. 

“He doesn’t mean anything by it, mi amor,” he says, although he’s… not entirely sure of that. And judging from the look she gives him in the dim light, Imelda isn’t either.

“You are a wonderful husband,” she tells him, brushing back his hair again. “And you’ll be a wonderful papá. Don’t let him or anyone tell you otherwise.”

“He doesn’t mean--” he begins, then he pauses, and nods. “... I won’t. Next time, I’ll tell him to shut up,” he promises with a small smile, and leans back against her, shutting his eyes.

Except that doesn’t. Never in his life was he ever able to really tell off Ernesto. They have been friends since Héctor can remember, and after hurting him so much he really sees no point in making a scene over… over what? Jokes, that’s all they are. 

He only means to joke, as they progress to going out together every once in a while for a drink. He certainly doesn’t mean to be heavy-handed as it feels like, commenting on how he can hardly imagine him ready to be a father, he’d probably fuck up all that he can possibly fuck up as a parent, and Imelda will probably be impossible to deal with after the birth, what a mess he got himself in, huh? The end of his life as a free man, he mutters, and laughs. 

It’s only friendly teasing. They go way back. Ernesto knows him like the back of his hand, knows his doubts and insecurities and fear better than anyone, and he certainly wouldn’t purposely hit him where it hurts. He wouldn’t purposely tear apart his confidence, fuel the doubts Héctor can barely keep off his mind. He… he wouldn’t.

… Or would he? Little by little, snide remark after snide remark, the doubt grows and something thins out, ready to snap.

*** 

When he gets to the cantina and spots Héctor sitting at one of the tables outside, Ernesto groans inwardly: he can tell, from the big dumb grin on his stupid face, that he’s going to be absolutely insufferable. 

Look at him, acting like he hasn’t just ruined his entire life by knocking up the bruja he decided to marry. Is he doing it only to piss him off? If that’s the case, Ernesto may as well knock him down a peg or two. He walks up to the table and sits, a lopsided grin on his face. 

“Sorry I’m late, my date for the night didn’t want me to--” he begins, only to trail off when Héctor shoves something in front of his face - his phone. On the screen there is… a mass of gray static. It takes a moment for Ernesto to realize what he’s looking at, and Héctor almost sings it out the next moment, absolutely ecstatic. It hurts, how can Héctor not see it hurts?

“It’s a girl! We’re having a little girl!”

Ernesto grimaces, pushing the phone away from his face. “My condolences,” he says dryly. His obvious lack of enthusiasm does nothing to dampen Héctor’s mood. 

“All is going well, and we’re thinking up names! We both like Socorro, but I also would like Emilia, after my mamá. Maybe it can be her middle name. Imelda suggested--”

“When?”

“Oh, we just found out this morn--”

“I mean, when did I ask?”

Finally, that sours Héctor’s good mood. The smile fades, and while it brings no relief to the painful knot that seems to have taken residence in Ernesto’s chest, at least it gives him some measure of satisfaction. If he expects him to care about the brat Imelda is carrying - what a convenient way to get him out of the picture - then he’s in for a long wait. 

“I believe you had mentioned a new song,” Ernesto says, waving to catch the attention of a waiter, and Héctor hesitates a moment before he sighs. 

“... Right. I wrote it last night and it needs some work, let me show you…”

The song isn’t Héctor’s best work - clearly, the upcoming brat is distracting him from music - but it’s not bad, either, and it could work with a few changes. They discuss it, their drinks arrive, and Ernesto feels a little better. This is a lot more productive than watching gray blobs and trying to guess which part of it is supposed to be a baby. Yes, Ernesto thinks, he can make this song a success if Héctor follows his advice and adapts it to his voice. 

Of course, Héctor just has to ruin the mood by bringing up his family again.

“So, uh, about the baby-- of course there will be the christening and all that. We want to do it in Santa Cecilia - I mean, Imelda’s family is there, it makes sense - and I know that’s not ideal for you, but, er… Would it be too much or a problem? To come to Santa Cecilia?”

… Is he an idiot or what? Not only he expects him to be there for the christening of some little monster who straight-up replaced him, patting him and Imelda in the back - he also wants him to come back to the one town he’s sworn to never set foot in again? Ernesto looks at him, arching an eyebrow. “Come to Santa Cecilia?” he asks, his voice even. 

Héctor knows him well enough to tell that when he speaks like that, he’s nowhere as calm as he sounds. He shifts.  “Well… we would like you to be her godfather.”

All right, this has got to be a joke. Ernesto would laugh, if not for the fact the ache in his chest is there again, worse than ever. What the hell do they think they’re doing? Are they trying to mock him? To throw a bone his way so that he’ll wag his tail and be happy with what they’re willing to share with him? He wants to laugh, he wants to yell, he wants to hit him - but he does none of those things. In the end, he sneers. 

“We,” he repeats. “I don’t believe for a second that this was her idea.”

“Well, it was mine, but-- I always said that if we had kids, you’d be the godfather of at least one, no? We talked about it again, and Imelda agrees--”

“Oh, of course she agrees,” Ernesto snaps, slamming the glass back down on the table hard enough to make some of the beer splash out, and Héctor wince. “She can’t wait to rub her latest creation in my face.”

That gains him a confused look. “What? No, we both really think you should be her--”

"She must be having a laugh," Ernesto mutters, glaring down at his glass and entirely missing the way Héctor shakes his head.

"Of course she isn't laughing," he protests. "You should know her better than that."

"Pfft, as if. She saw her chance to--" the words 'hurt me' almost make it past his lips, but he'll curl up and die before he lets them out; that is more than he's willing to admit. "To get back to me, and she ran with it. She always hated me, hell knows why."

Héctor frowns. "That's not--"

"She probably started this whole thing so that she could kick me out of it when I had started to--" again, the words refuse to leave his mouth. 

He just scowls, and takes another swig from his drink as Héctor shakes his head and reaches across the table to put a hand on his arm. "That's not true, Ernesto. Not a single word. You don't really believe that," he says, and lifts his hands at Ernesto's glare over the glass. "Listen, I know you're hurt and--"

"I am not hurt," Ernesto snaps, slamming the glass down on the table hard enough to make the beer splash over his hand, again. At this point, the glass is almost empty. "I'm just angry as fuck with the puta you went and married and got yourself shackled to."

The first hint of anger shows in Héctor's gaze, but Ernesto is too furious to notice it. "Don't call her that ever again."

Ernesto scoffs. "Call her what? A puta?"

"Stop that," Héctor bristles and oh, look at that, he's angry now. He won't side with him, but look at him rushing to her defense. "You're being unreasonable. She didn't say we can't-- you still have me.”

“I don’t want you,” Ernesto snaps, and it’s only partly a lie. He does want him - he wanted him before Imelda was even really in the picture - but not now, not just him. It would only remind him of what they had, the three of them, and he can’t have again. 

Héctor recoils a little at the viciousness of his tone - does he really have the guts to look hurt now? - but doesn’t back down. “She only called herself out of it. She just thought that this... us... wouldn't work. Not all three of us. Not with our baby on the way."

Oh, sure. The baby. A cluster of cells without a working brain that is already so much more important than him, and he hates it more than anything. "Your baby, yes," he mutters, and finishes his beer. "If you're so sure."

That causes Héctor's eyes to narrow. "What do you mean by that?" he asks, his voice suddenly cold, and that's good. Ernesto wants nothing more than hit him where it hurts, so maybe he'll see where he's coming from. 

"How do you know she didn't screw someone else? Maybe right now, while you're here with me? I mean, why would someone like her settle for you?"

Héctor recoils as though physically struck - must have hit a nerve, of course, because that was the intention. Isn’t that what Héctor has always been afraid of? Never being enough?

"She wouldn't go behind my back and you know--"

"Never let me in her because she hates my guts, but I bet she let half the neighborhood between her legs," Ernesto says, and grins at the fury crossing Héctor's features. "She's got you on such a tight leash, why let you hang with me? If you want my guess--"

"Shut up. You don't know what you're--"

"My guess," Ernesto repeats more forcefully, leaning forward with gleeful spite, "is that lets you hang with me because it keeps you out of the way while she keeps being the neighborhood puta. I'm ready to bet you're not even the father. I'm ready to bet--"

Héctor moves faster than his eyes can follow, his fist a blur of motion, his cry of anger sounding so very far away. There is a blow and he’s on the ground, pain blooming on his face and a coppery taste in his mouth, his vision swimming. He tries to speak and something warm drips down his chin; somewhere in the distance he can hear yells and voices, but he’s aware of nothing but Héctor, towering over him, holding his right fist in his left hand and features twisted with fury. He’s the only thing he can see clearly, and the sight causes his breath to catch in his throat. 

He’s never seen Héctor so angry, and realization - too far, I have gone too far - seizes his heart like a cold hand.  “Héctor,” he tries, but he’s met with a scoff.

“Imelda was right about you, right at the start,” he mutters. “You only care about yourself. You don’t give a damn about anyone else’s reasons. She was right to bring the arrangement to an end. It could have never worked because you’d put your own wants before a baby’s needs, you always did. What you want you get, and if you don’t get it then you push me around until you do! Well, no more!”

“I-- I--” Ernesto stammers, but Héctor silences him with an angry wave of his hand.

“Save your breath. I’m not your little brother anymore. I grew up, you did not, and I’m done putting up with you. Stay away from me, Imelda, and our baby. Stay away from my family.”

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Ernesto tries to speak, tries to reach out for him, but Héctor is already marching away, ignoring the several people who have approached, asking what the hell that was about. Ernesto lets his hand drop, lets his head drop, and closes his eyes. Somewhere above a man is asking how he is, telling someone else to call an ambulance, telling him that he should stay awake, might have a concussion there, amigo, stay awake and talk to me. 

He stays awake, but talks to no one. Things go badly when he opens his mouth and talks, and now he’s lost Héctor, too. He pushed him, he always pushed him, but now he’s pushed him too far and something snapped and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He fucked up, and he has no idea how he can even begin to put the pieces back together.

*** 

When Héctor returns home he’s stiff, silent, and close to tears.

Imelda almost asks him what happened, but she does not, because she knows her husband - she knows that’s how he gets when he’s devastated and angry at the same time - and she also knows who was it he went to meet that day. Ernesto happened, clearly. 

So much for hoping he’d move on as time passed.

“What did he do?” she asks quietly when Héctor sits on the couch, stroking Dante’s head absently. Dante may not be a smart dog by any stretch of imagination, but he seems very attuned to their moods - and lately he won’t start the day without giving her belly a gentle boop with his nose - and now he whines, leaning his head on Héctor’s knee. 

“... He’s an idiot,” Héctor mutters, his voice tight. “He said things-- Enough. We’re through.”

Imelda is silent for a few moments, trying not to speculate what he may have said, then she slowly sits by him, puts an arm around his shoulders. Héctor leans into her touch, and lets out a long, heavy sigh. She kisses his cheek, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She’d hoped things would get better once Ernesto got over the initial disappointment, not worse. 

With how he’s been treating her husband lately, he probably deserved to be told off; some time on his own, without faithful Héctor there for him, will clear his head. But it hurts to see him so anguished; even more so knowing it is her, in the end, that Ernesto takes issue with. 

A child throwing a tantrum. Of course he wouldn’t be any better than that, isn’t that why I knew it couldn’t work? I should have known he wouldn’t make peace with being denied. The entire thing was a mistake. My mistake. I shouldn’t have given an inch, stopped it long ago.

“Lo siento,” she finally says, and he shakes his head. 

“Not your fault,” he murmurs, and his hand rests on her belly. He manages a weak smile, and speaks again. “Socorro is a really nice name.”

She puts her hand over his own. “It is,” she agrees, and that is the end of it. For the following days, they don’t so much mention Ernesto; the wound is still too raw. So they wait, hoping he’ll reach out - apologize to Héctor, at least, for whatever it is he told him.

But, in the following days, they hear nothing back.

***

“So, you just decided to move into my apartment with your dogs? Not that I mind - at least your dogs are cute - but if you don’t plan on going home, we should probably consider splitting rent.”

Still catching his breath and face pressed against Sofía’s shoulder - why won’t she ever shut up, wasn’t a decent fuck enough for her to keep her mouth shut ten minutes? - Ernesto lets out a hum, and hopes she’ll leave it at that.

She doesn’t. 

“Why did you have to leave your place in such a hurry, anyway? Angry lover?”

It’s a lighthearted guess, but of course she just had to nearly hit the nail on the head. Ernesto shuts his eyes tighter, resolving to pretend he’s already asleep so that she won’t prod for more information. It’s been three days - three days without a word - and it still hurts. 

Except that he finds himself talking the next moment. “They hate my guts.”

A pause, and he feels her shift. “They? Did you date two women at the same time and they found out about each other? Again?”

Ernesto looks up, blinking. “Wha-- no!”

“Did you date two men at the same time and they found out about each other?” A pause. “... Again?”

“No. I--”

“Did you date a man and a woman at the same ti--”

“No! They knew about each other, all right? They were together in the first place, and then-- I mean, we were all-- I thought we were, but-- It’s complicated,” Ernesto says with a frustrated sigh. Sofía’s fingers are running through his hair, and he leans into the touch, trying to focus on that over the throbbing ache in his chest, the hammering thought that he fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up. Sex with an old fuck buddy wasn’t enough to get rid of that.

“I was just the third wheel," he finally says, and it feels like the most difficult thing he's ever had to utter. "And they didn’t need me anymore.”

“Oh,” Sofía says, and adds nothing more. He could stop talking now, but he cannot. It feels like something is stuck in his throat and it aches, and he fears it will get worse if he stops. 

“There weren’t supposed to be any strings attached. You know, I always said--”

“No strings but those of my guitar?”

“Yes, that. But then there were. Strings, I mean,” he says, and pauses. “... Not guitar strings.”

“I’d worked out that much,” Sofía says, and the hand goes down to rub the back of his neck. “And you thought it was mutual.”

“Sí. But I was wrong, or… or maybe not, but then she got pregnant--”

“Wait, did you--?”

“No, not me, she never let me-- er. It was Héctor.”

The hand on the back of his neck stills. “... Wait. Are you talking about your best friend and his wife?”

Oh. Right. He hadn’t meant to say that, but now it’s out and there is no point denying it. “Yes.”

She tilts her head. “... And to think you told me she’s a complete stick in the mud.”

“Well, she is now,” Ernesto says sourly. “They’ve got a baby on the way and suddenly she’s got to be the perfect wife and mother. I can still fuck Héctor, she says, like that’s all that there was to it, but God forbid it’s under her roof or if I so much look at her. No more fooling around, because clearly that’s--” Ernesto trails off, and he doesn’t like the tightness in his throat, doesn’t like it at all. He turns on his stomach, draping an arm around her and pressing his face against her stomach, and he feels Sofía sighing before she resumes rubbing his back.

“And being his fuck buddy isn’t enough anymore, huh?”

He shakes his head, saying nothing.

“Ah, damn. Didn’t think I’d see the day, but you’ve fallen hard. And for two people, no le-- are you sniffling?”

“No,” Ernesto sniffles.

“... Of course you’re not.”

“They just-- discarded me.”

“Well… if it helps at all, it sounds like it wasn’t about you. It’s about the baby.”

Ernesto scoffs, face still pressed against her skin. “Yes, that was her excuse. Said it would be too difficult to explain their brat what’s going on.”

“To be fair, it’d be a complication,” she says, but Ernesto ignores her. Can’t she just let him vent without bringing common sense in it? Fine, so maybe Imelda had reasons, but what about him?

“And he sided with her. He always sides with her.”

“Well. She’s his wife.”

“And I was his best friend.”

“I’m picking up a past tense.”

Stay away from me, from Imelda, from our baby. Stay away from my family.

“... Ernesto?”

He tries to answer, he really does, but he finds he cannot force his voice out. His throat hurts, his chest hurts, and eventually all he can let out is a low keening sound. He doesn’t fully register that he’s weeping at first, and when it hits him the shame is even worse than the ache.

This is ridiculous, a voice in the back of his head, the one that sounds an awful lot like his father’s, chides him. You’re a grown man. Act like it.

“I fucked up,” he chokes out. “I didn’t know when to shut up and I fucked up and I can’t fix it.”

Her fingers comb through his hair again, the other hand rubbing his back. “Can’t you call to apologize? I know Héctor. Unless you skinned his cat, an apology will be enough.”

That’s what he’d have believed until a few days ago; until Héctor had struck him and he’d seen the fury on his face as he towered over him. Suddenly, he knew he went too far.

What you want you get, and if you don’t get it then you push me around until you do! Well, no more!

Ernesto shuts his eyes, and shakes his head. Sofía sighs, and strokes his hair again, but says nothing. He lets him have a cry, and promptly pretends to have forgotten about it the next morning - something Ernesto is… rather grateful about. Crying himself to sleep is not a good look on him. Christ, he probably looks awful, with puffy eyes and whatnot. 

He doesn’t really want to look into a mirror, so he lets Sofía go into the bathroom first instead of hogging it, and starts getting dressed. The trousers are a big tight, did he gain weight? He sure hopes not, it would be the cherry on top of a pile of shit.  Maybe it’s just been too long; last time he wore them was months ago. 

Ernesto makes a face, sticks his hands in the back pockets… and pauses when he realizes there is something on the left pocket. He blinks, pulls it out, and finds himself staring at an envelope with his name on it, written in his mother’s handwriting. The letter Héctor had brought him from Santa Cecilia. 

“Oh,” he mutters, still standing in the middle of Sofía’s bedroom, belt unbuckled and four chihuahuas running in circles around him, waiting for their breakfast. He entirely forgot about the letter; he took the envelope, stuck it in his pocket, and… maybe he wanted to throw it out. Surely he wanted to throw it out, and then he just... forgot about it.

Well, he can do it now. He will do it now. He has no intention to read a single word that woman said or wrote. 

I bet she turned on the waterworks, he’d said. Go figure. Easy to think I’m the ungrateful bastard, making my poor mamá cry.

Well, she can cry as much as she wants. She can cry enough to put la Llorona to shame, he doesn’t care. No amount of weeping changes the fact that he begged her to say nothing and yet she ratted him out - got him beaten up by that animal she’s chosen to marry, standing in a corner and turning on the waterworks while it happened, useless as always. 

Ernesto snorts and glances down at his dogs, who stopped running in circles and are staring up at him, heads tilted. “I don’t care what this says,” he informs them. “She fucked up.”

I fucked up.

“I-- I don’t have to give her a moment’s thought. Let alone another chance. If she’d kept her mouth shut--”

I didn’t know when to shut up and I fucked up and I can’t fix it.

His eyes prickle, and it’s too much. Ernesto snarls and tears the envelope in half, then in half again, throwing the four pieces to scatter on the floor. “There. Now it’s gone,” he snaps. “Come, I’ll feed-- what--?”

Before his confused gaze, his dogs don’t bolt as usual at the mention of food. Suddenly each of them picks up a piece of the envelope, the letter still tucked within. Normally they would bound away with their prize, leading him to a merry chase, but this time they don’t; they only stand there, tails wagging, staring at him, waiting. It’s unlike… anything they’ve done before. It’s surreal. Ernesto stares, blinks, and the chihuahuas just stare back, unmoving. 

And finally, slowly, he kneels to take the pieces out of their mouths.

*** 

Mijo,

I hope this letter finds you, and that it finds you well. 

I know you’re making a name for yourself, a lot of people here talk about you and Héctor and what you’re doing in Mexico City. I was sure you would make it, you have so much talent. Everyone could tell, since you were in the church choir. Or in the Nativity play. I was so, so proud of you, and I don’t feel like I have told you that enough. 

We bought a computer - please, don’t laugh - and I got Mirela’s daughter to show me how to make it work. The poor girl almost tore her hair out, but now I can see your videos and your photos. It’s nice to see you smile, mijo. I have that photo of you after a concert framed and I show it to anyone who comes to see us. My handsome boy.

Your papá won’t say that aloud, but he likes your music. I caught him listening behind the door when I played your videos, so I always play them a little louder for him. He’s doing better now, a lot has changed since you were here last time. He began going to meetings to stop drinking, and he’ll celebrate three years dry soon. He has also been seeing someone for his anger, a therapist. He doesn’t want people to know that part, but you of all people know how bad I am at keeping secrets, no?

I know we both did wrong, your papá and I. You trusted me and I betrayed you - I thought I knew better than you how to deal with it, and I was wrong. And your papá should have never reacted as he did. He knows that now. He’s sorry. We are both so sorry and so proud. We miss you so very much.

You don’t have to write back if you don’t want to. I only wanted you to know this - that we’re sorry and we love you and we hope you’re happy. 

With all my love,

Mamá. 

*** 

Once she’s done showering and walks out, towelling her hair, Sofía is rather taken aback to realize Ernesto has left without even a shower. The dogs are still there, yapping and clearly hungry; all that she finds is a scribbled note, asking her to look after them until he’s back, promising her he’ll pay back for their food and whatever they may chew up when he returns.

With a sigh, Sofía lets the note drop and looks down at the dogs.

“You better not chew up anything,” she mutters, and makes her way to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast and to see if she has something suitable to feed those four little demons.

***

[Back to Part 14]

[On to Part 16]

[noona-clock]

Your Friend, Joo Hyuk - Part 8

Genre: AU/Fluff

Pairing: Joo Hyuk x You

By Admin B

Intro, Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Epilogue

When you arrived back at your apartment from the airport, you softly closed your door behind you, pressed your back against it, and let out a long, sorrowful sigh.

This sucked already.

But then you remembered Joo Hyuk had told you to call him when you got here, so you reached into your purse for your phone. You opened up WhatsApp, pressed on his contact name, and clicked on the phone icon.

He answered almost immediately, and your heart sped up and broke at the same time when you heard his voice

“You got home okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied gloomily.

“I know, I hate this, too. I would give anything to be back there with you.”

“Truthfully, how are we going to make this work?” you asked, already feeling your throat close up. You hadn’t actually talked about this yet because neither of you wanted to bring it up and effectively dampen the mood.

“I’ll use all my vacation time to come visit you,” Joo Hyuk answered immediately. “And when you come visit, I’ll do as much work as I can from home. I’ll see if I can request business trips to America more.”

“And it’s just going to be like that forever?” You couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life only seeing him every few months for a couple weeks at a time. Living half a day and half the world away from him. You just couldn’t.

“...I don’t know. But it has to be for right now.”

“Your life, your family is in Korea. Mine is here. Are we both just expecting the other one to pack up and leave, just like that?”

“No, of course not... Baby... do you not want to be with me?” Because it was sounding suspiciously like you were giving up.

“No, no, I do. I’m sorry, I just... I miss you, and I’m letting the negativity get to my head.” Your voice had become choked with emotion, and you slid down your door to sit on the carpet.

Joo Hyuk sighed, and you wished more than anything his voice was here, not just over the phone. Wished you could feel his arms around you, smell his familiar scent. 

“I miss you, too,” he began. “And I know this is going to be tough, but... you’ve gotta be strong. Remember what I told you back when you were having a hard time at university? Tell yourself it’s going to be okay every single day. Make yourself smile every single day.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I ever really told you how much you helped me back then. I felt so alone, but reading your messages reminded me I had someone in my corner. I wasn’t alone. I had you, even though you were thousands of miles away.”

“And that’s how it’ll be for the next few months. I’ll be here, still. I’ll be yours. You’ll have me, even though I’m thousands of miles away.”

“And you’ll have me. Whenever you think about me, there’s a 100% chance I’m thinking about you, too.”

“Yeah, you better be. And not be thinking about Tadashi.”

You chuckled, moving to cross your legs and sit pretzel-style. “I’m definitely going to watch that movie all the time and write stories in my head about Honey Lemon and Tadashi’s secret romance.”

“I’ll watch it, too. And every time I do, I’ll think about meeting Baymax. And then I’ll think about Disneyland and how I had the best three days of my life there.”

“Really? The best three days of your life?”

“Well, yeah. It’s where I fell in love with you. Or at least realized I was.”

You bit your lip, your heart fluttering as you thought back to watching World of Color with him that second time.

“When should we go back?” you asked, your voice sort of dreamy as you imagined the future. You figured you wouldn’t be able to go back together any time soon, but you still liked to think about it.

“The next time I come visit,” Joo Hyuk replied. “Maybe six months or so?”

“Really? You’ll come back that soon?”

“If not sooner.”

You wondered if he was just being optimistic, but you didn’t want to say anything. So you simply smiled and said “I can’t wait.”

You talked for about fifteen more minutes until Joo Hyuk let out a little sigh. And you knew.

“They just called my section for boarding,” he murmured.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’ll call you right when I land, okay?”

“Yes, please. Don’t worry about what time it might be over here.”

“And you, too. If you ever need to call me, just do it.”

“I will. Have a safe slight, my love.”

You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’ll do my best.”

“I love you so, so much.”

“I love you so, so much, too,” he told you. “...Bye.”

You sniffed as you pulled your phone away from your ear and disconnected the call. You couldn’t handle saying the words ‘Good bye’ again.

You spent the rest of your day distracting yourself. You cleaned your whole apartment, you did laundry, you went grocery shopping, you did your nails, you watched some Netflix... Your phone finally rang when you were in bed later that night, around 10 o’clock.

You answered quickly, your heart jumping into your throat when you heard Joo Hyuk’s voice. His flight had been long but very smooth, and he’d watched about four or five movies. He’d even watched the live action Cinderella in honor of you.

You talked for almost two hours until you truly couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. You must have fallen asleep a little because you jerked awake when you heard Joo Hyuk say your name a bit forcefully.

“You fell asleep, huh?” he chuckled. “Go to bed. Call me whenever, okay?”

You agreed, sleepily murmuring an ‘I love you’ and wishing him a good afternoon. He wished you a good night and kissed the phone, causing you to chuckle softly. You hoped talking to him right before falling asleep meant you would dream about him.

The next three months were... Well, to be honest, they weren’t that horrible. You hadn’t been lying when you’d told Joo Hyuk you had a busy time at work coming up. You’d fallen behind while he was here, so you had a bit to catch up on as well as a new load of work coming in. So you spent most of your days in your office, reading and editing, editing and reading.

You visited Mickey a lot, too, since work and the absence of your boyfriend was somewhat stressful. You would ride through the farm for hours on weekends, and sometimes in the evenings after work. 

You had your family and some friends, yes, but... Mickey was special to you. He always had been, and he was particularly comforting now. You were more thankful for him than ever.

You and Joo Hyuk talked everyday, though some days it was only for ten or so minutes. But not a day went by when you didn’t hear his voice.

You also video chatted a few times a week which really helped. It always made your day that much better when you saw his face - and he always looked amazing, even if he had just woken up. It truly wasn’t fair (but it was since he was all yours).

You bought a plane ticket to Seoul about a month in advance, and the second it was purchased, you entered the date into a countdown app on your phone. 

Every day when you and Joo Hyuk would talk, he would ask you how many more days, even though you’d just told him the day before.

When you got down in the teens, you really started to get antsy. It had been almost three whole months since you’d gotten to touch your boyfriend. Hug him, kiss him, hold his hand... 

“Seven more days,” you said when you answered the phone a week before your flight was set to take off. “That’s just one week.”

“And we’ve already been through eleven weeks, so one week is nothing!”

You beamed, closing your laptop and spinning around in your office chair. You could afford to take a break right now.

“Three more days! Can you believe that?” you squealed after Joo Hyuk answered your video chat.

“No, but it’s almost midnight,” he muttered sleepily.

“Oh, sorry,” you whispered, biting your lip in slight embarrassment.

“How many more days?” Joo Hyuk asked when he picked up your call.

“One. One more day. A.K.A. I’m leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow.”

“And then you’ll be here,” he sighed.

“What are we going to do first?”

“...Well, I know what I’d like to do,” he chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that... But after a thirteen hour flight, I’ll probably want to take a shower first.”

“Hey, that sounds like a good idea.” You could hear him smirking, and it made you blush.

Leaving now!!!! you messaged Joo Hyuk as your dad pulled up to your apartment complex.

Safe flight, baby. I’m heading off to sleep. Call me when you land.

You got it. Love you!

Love you, too

You fidgeted throughout the whole drive, and you’d never been more anxious to say good-bye to your dad. He understood, thankfully, but he still made you promise to be safe and responsible. A parent was a parent, no matter how old the child.

You checked your bag, went through security, and found a seat by your gate. You still had about an hour before you boarded your flight, so you got out your phone and start playing a game.

You were so concentrated on your game, you jumped a little when a phone call popped up on your screen. You furrowed your brow when you saw who it was, wondering why they would be calling...

“Hello?”

A few moments later, your jaw dropped. Your heart dropped. “Wh-what?” you asked, stunned. “Oh my god.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, feeling tears well up in your eyes. No. No, this couldn’t be.

“Okay, I’m coming,” you mumbled, your voice choked up with emotion.

You stood after hanging up, making your way back to security and into the airport lobby. You ran up to the airline desk, telling them to stop your bag from getting on your plane. You would have to come back and pick it up later, and you thanked them profusely for offering to hold it for you.

You hailed a taxi after darting out the doors, tears now streaming down your face. You gave the driver the address of your destination... and then you got out your phone.

You knew Joo Hyuk was sleeping already, but you had to call him. You bit the inside of your cheek as you waited through the rings for his voicemail.

Once you heard the beep, you took a deep breath, hoping you would be able to speak clearly enough for him to understand.

“Hey,” you began, sniffling. “It’s me. I can’t -- I’m not getting on the plane. I’m sorry, but it’s --” You let out a sob, pressing your hand to your forehead.

“It’s Mickey. Something about a heart aneurysm... I’m not too sure, but... he’s gone.”

Part 9

@takura-rin, @daelicious-jongbulge, @sweg-imsorrywhatwasthat. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the next update!

Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

[thegladelf]

Killian Jones and The Girl Who Lived 5/8

Alright, y’all, this here is my favorite chapter. I hope you guys like it!

Thank you as always to @icecubelotr44 for taking my madness and making it make sense. Shout outs to @jemmingart and @prongsie for being such awesome artists. Make sure you check out jemming artwork and prongsie’s artwork for this chapter when you’re done reading!

Up on Ao3 and FF.net if that’s your preferred platform.

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: G

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Chapter Five: Christmas

Christmas decorations appeared all over Hogwarts before Killian realized November had come and gone.

Time slipped by you like water through a sieve when you spent every spare half hour in the library looking for information.

They still hadn’t found a single line on Nicholas Flamel. They checked all the usual sources: Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, Notable Magical Names of Our Time, Important Modern Magical Discoveries, A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry and every other promising book the four of them could find.

Between school and this research, Killian was at the point where no sooner did he open a book than he wanted to hurl it at the nearest wall. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, was thriving. She made little diagrams of the library and was crossing off the shelves with gusto as they went through them one by one and found nothing. She seemed just as pleased to cross shelves out as she would be if they had found anything.

That was the only sour spot in his life, though. Not even Liam telling him to sign up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas dampened his mood.

"You're not upset?" Emma asked as he signed his name right below hers.

"Nope." He grinned.

Mary Margaret eyed the list with a jealous eye. "I wish I was staying. It doesn't feel right, going home to Gran when you three are staying here."

"It's not like we'll be alone," David said around a mouthful of porridge. "Heck, I've still got half my family here, even if my parents are off in Romania."

David's parents sent him a letter similar to the one Killian received from Liam, though his read, "We're visiting Tom in Romania" instead of, "I'm crashing on a friend's couch and it's already tight, so if you don't mind..."

Killian wished Liam could come to Hogwarts for Christmas, too, but since that wasn't possible, he couldn't think of any other people he would rather spend the holiday with.

Not even Regina's gloating could bring down his mood, though he did feel a bit sorry for Mary Margaret, who turned bright red every time someone asked her if she was attending all the Malfoys' grand holiday happenings. The answer was always a firm no as her Gran didn’t approve of the Malfoys. According to Mary Margaret, her mother Eva had been the only exception to this rule—she said it helped that her mother’s family had disowned her.

"Watcher," Hagrid said, narrowly missing the four of them as he hauled a massive fir tree into the castle. "Don't want to knock any of yeh down now."

They were just moving out of the way when a snide voice said, "Quit blocking the door." Regina sneered at Hagrid as she slipped past. "Pay attention, Nolan, that could be your job one day. I'm sure that hut is a step up from whatever hovel your family lives in."

David leapt for Regina. Killian lunged after him, trying to keep him off of the girl.

"NOLAN!"

Everyone froze.

"It's not his fault, Professor Snape," Hagrid said, dusting pine needles from his shaggy coat. "Ms. Malfoy were talkin' trash about his family."

"Fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid, regardless of who started the fight." Snape did his best to look reluctant as he said, "Five points from Gryffindor, Nolan, and be glad it's not more. Now move along."

Regina and her friends smirked as they ran past, covering their mouths as they giggled.

"We should go, too," Mary Margaret said, nudging David with her elbow, "we've got enough time before lunch to search the library."

"What're you folks doing in the library, term’s nearly over? Yeh should be enjoyin' the holidays."

"Oh, we're not working," Emma said, widening her eyes at Hagrid. She might have been mistaken for a Christmas angel with those green eyes and the blonde hair in curling wisps about her face. "We've just been trying to figure out who Nicholas Flamel is."

"What?" Hagrid half-dropped the massive tree, forcing a squawk out of David as he ducked out of the way. "Now I've told yeh to drop this—"

"Oh, we're not interested in that," Mary Margaret lied smoothly. "We just want to know who Nicholas Flamel is."

Emma nodded. "I know I've heard the name and it'll bug me until I can remember where." She paused. "I don't suppose you'd want to save us the trouble, Hagrid?"

"I'm not sayin' a thing. Not. A. Thing." And he hoisted the tree back up and carried it into the Great Hall.

"Well, it was worth a try," Emma said.

"You three will be sure to keep looking while I'm gone, right?" Mary Margaret said. "And make sure you take my list!"

"Yeah, sure." Emma sighed. "I just wish we could get into that restricted section. If whatever is up there is dangerous enough to need all that guarding, it's probably something dark."

Killian nodded solemnly.

All the students who were going home packed off in the afternoon. His and David’s three roommates were lucky enough to spend time with their families, so their room felt all empty and echoey as he tried to sleep that night. He stared up at his canopy, listening to David's soft snores and fighting the restlessness in his limbs. Finally, he got up and crept down the stairs, hoping that maybe a little movement would loosen up his nerves and put him in the mood for sleep.

"Who's there?" a soft voice asked as his feet brushed the bottom step. It sounded like Emma.

"It's me."

"Killian?"

"Yeah." He wished he had his wand. The common room was pitch black, the odd shapes of chairs and tables and couches the only solid things he could see. "Where are you?"

"Over here—No—Oh, hold on… Lumos." A small point of light flared, revealing Emma's pale face, her hair ghosting around her face. She peered over the back of the couch that sat in front of the cold fireplace.

Hands out in front of him, he shuffled his way around the couch. Emma sat up, pulling her feet in to make room for him.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked.

Emma shrugged. "It's too quiet with only me. I couldn't sleep. You?"

"The same..." He tilted his head, thinking. "Well, not quite the same, Dave snores, but it feels...emptier without Archie and Will and Robin."

Emma nodded like that made perfect sense. Like you could feel the absence of someone.

You could. Sometimes, even when they were still there.

Killian shifted to face her, drawing his knees up. His robe was still upstairs, tossed carelessly at the side of his bed—he hadn't exactly meant to set up down here. With a roll of her eyes, Emma tossed one end of her blanket to him, allowing enough slack that he could draw it over his knees too.

"David was horrified when I told him the Dursleys aren't going to send me any presents," Emma said softly.

"I'm not expecting anything from my family, either."

"But that's because Liam can't afford it." Emma picked at a thread on her blanket. "He'd send you anything you wanted if he could. The Dursleys just wish I never existed."

Killian waited patiently. He knew from things she said offhandedly that the Dursleys hadn't been kind, but as Emma whispered about her cupboard under the stairs and missed meals and clothes that were too big for her, he started to think his own upbringing hadn't been so bad.

He almost told her about it. About everything: His mother, what had happened at the beginning of the summer when their mother told Liam she had no intentions of sending him to Hogwarts, how everything fell apart after that. But he couldn't. It didn't seem right to gripe about the minor inconveniences in his life. Secondhand robes and textbooks with notes already written in the margins seem small in the light of what Emma’s stories revealed.

The couch creaked as Emma shifted. "Sorry. I'm talking all about myself. You probably don't want to hear all about my dysfunctional family."

Killian shrugged, then remembered Emma probably couldn't see him. "It's alright."

"What about you?" she asked. "Is it really just you and your brother?"

He opened his mouth to say no, then clamped it shut again. Clearing his throat he said, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a little while, until Emma yawned so loudly it made Killian jump.

"We should get back to bed," he said softly.

"I guess." She didn't sound eager to head back up to her empty dorm room.

"Hey, if it's silence that bugs you, there are three empty beds and a snoring Dave upstairs."

Emma laughed, deep, from her gut. "I like that idea. Hold on." Light flared at the tip of her wand again and she handed it to him while she gathered her pillow and blanket. He realized she'd planned to sleep down here. She balanced them all in one arm, reaching for his hand with the other.

"We'd better put the light out or Arthur will have a cow."

Killian shuddered. Artie would not be pleased to find them out of bed at this hour, even if there was no school in the morning. They crept upstairs, holding back giggles and stubbing their toes. As they passed Arthur’s floor, both of them held their breath. Killian prayed he kept sleeping. Sending Emma back to that big, empty room just seemed wrong after everything she told him.

"He really is snoring," Emma whispered as they entered. She set her pillow on the bed next to Killian's and crawled onto it. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, Emma," he whispered back, "and Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."

As it turned out, Emma snored, too. It should have annoyed him, but Killian fell asleep with a smile on his face.

He slept peacefully until the next morning when David awoke him very rudely. One moment, he was dreaming of being at home with his family and the next frigid air attacked his hands and his feet and his stomach where his pyjamas rode up. Killian squinted up at David leaning over him, Killian’s blanket in one hand.

"Oi, Killian!"

"What's happening?" It felt like he was talking around rocks. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, pushing David away as he did so.

"There's a girl in our room," David hissed.

"It's just Emma." He glanced over to where Emma was still curled up under the blanket

David thought about it for a minute and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." He threw the blanket back at Killian. "Well, you get to wake her up, because it's Christmas and it's impolite to open presents if everyone isn't awake."

"You shouldn't wait on my account, I won't…" Emma's sleepy voice trailed off as David jabbed a finger pointedly at the foot of her bed. Scrambling to peer over the edge, she gasped. "I've got presents."

"You both do. Honestly,” David said, shaking his head as if they were both daft. . “It's Christmas."

He broke into a big grin as Killian and Emma vaulted out of bed, hurriedly donning their robes. The three of them grabbed all their packages and sat in the middle of the floor as they ripped the paper off without bothering to take turns.

"Oh, look at that," Emma said. "The Dursleys didn't forget me." Giggling, she passed the sad present to Killian.

It was a card with a fifty cent piece taped to it. The card read, We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

David's eyes went wide. "What is that?"

Emma and Killian exchanged a glance, not sure if he was joking.

David continued staring at the coin with eyes nearly as wide.

"It's a fifty cent piece?" Emma clarified.

"Oh, Muggle money?" David's eyes lit up and he practically ripped it from Killian's grasp. "Can I look at it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. "You can keep it for all I care."

"Really?"

Despite their dire predictions the night before, Emma and Killian made out pretty well. Hagrid had carved Emma a wooden flute and David's mom had knitted them both a sweater. A green one with a big gold E for Emma and a bright red one with black K for Killian.

David turned bright scarlet. "Those are from my mum. I told her you weren't getting any presents," he muttered. "She makes us sweaters every year. I'm always maroon." With a sigh, he held his sweater up for them to see.

Mrs. Nolan also sent each of them a box of homemade fudge. Killian swallowed back tears, he remembered being very small and making fudge with his own mum one Christmas, back when she was still halfway present.

They received more chocolate from Mary Margaret, frogs instead of fudge this time. A box each for Emma and Killian.

Killian's last present was a spyglass from Liam. It was old and a bit battered in places, the bronze accents looked a little tarnished, but it still slid in and out with ease. He put it up to his eye and immediately jerked it back down. He hadn't meant to get a near microscopic view of David's nose.

With a spyglass came a note, Killian, Sorry it's not a pair of binoculars, but I thought you could use this to watch the Quidditch matches at school. This way you won't have to share with David anymore. Liam P.S.-It has a setting to see in the dark, just in case games go late.

Killian turned the spyglass over and over in his hand, wondering how many meals Liam had skipped to buy this. Or had he found it in their parents’ things? It was certainly old enough. There was a little ring on the bottom with an arrow. At the moment the arrow pointed at a tiny sun etched in the bronze, but a little moon kept the sun company one notch over.

"Here, you've got one more, Emma," David said, shoving Emma's last package at her.

Emma frowned at the parcel, tilting it this way and that as she studied it. With a shrug, she unwrapped it, releasing a length of silvery material.

David's eyes went wide. "I've heard of those. If that's what I think it is—well, let's just say there aren't many of them."

"Many of what?" Emma and Killian demanded at the same time.

"Invisibility cloaks."

Killian stared at the cloak. It swished back and forth as Emma slung it around her shoulders, like water. He and David both jumped up as everything below Emma's neck disappeared.

"Blimey! It is!" David shrieked.

"Look, there's a note." Killian bent and scooped up the paper that had fallen to the floor. He glanced down at it. "Emma..." Killian paused, showing her the note. "I think that's your father's cloak."

She snatched the paper from his hands, the cloak sliding from her shoulders and pooling around her feet as she stared at it.

"You alright there, Emma?" David asked.

She nodded. "Yeah." Her voice cracked.

Killian understood perfectly, he would give anything to have something of his father's.

They had just enough time to clean up most of the mess before Happy burst into the room bellowing. He, too, wore a sweater with a letter on it, a big grey H on a background of navy.

"Merry Christmas!" He stopped short at the sight of Emma. "Oh. Hello, Emma." His eyes jumped from her to the present on the floor to the blanket and pillow on the bed next to Killian's. "You're lucky you're first years or this might look suspicious." He winked at Killian for some unfathomable reason. "Don't worry, I shan't tell Artie. Speaking of. Dave, you want to come help me force him into his sweater? You know how he gets.

"And then we're going to go wait outside the Slytherin door," he continued, his voice floating down the hall as he and David left the room. "For James. None of that separate tables guff today, our whole family is sitting together."

The rest of the day was wonderful.

David and Happy did indeed drag James to the Gryffindor table and he seemed to enjoy himself. Even Arthur loosened up, joking with the rest of them as he sported a grey sweater with a bright, crimson A.

"This is the best Christmas I can ever remember," Killian whispered to Emma later that night. It certainly was the happiest, even if he still missed his brother.

A few feet away, she nodded. David was already snoring and she grimaced as he let out a particularly loud one.

"I can't believe Mrs. Nolan sent me a present," she whispered. "The Dursleys hardly even remembered I existed."

Killian nodded. "I was lucky if my mum remembered it was Christmas, let alone to go out to get presents."

It took him a moment to realize what he'd said. He clapped his mouth shut, hoping Emma didn't ask many more questions. She had to know something with how people talked behind his back, but if she did, she knew better than to ask.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," was all she said.

He drifted off to the sound of David's snores and Emma's gentle breathing. He heard her move around a few times and almost asked her if something was wrong, but sleep already had him and he drifted off before his mouth could form the words.

Someone shook him violently several hours later.

"Wha—" he sat up, hands ready to fend off his attacker, but she had already moved to the bed next to him.

"Come on, David, wake up," Emma said, leaning over David and subjecting him to the same treatment as she had Killian. "Killian's already awake. You have to come see."

"No he’s not." Killian rubbed at his eyes and cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't be all high and scratchy. “See what?”

"It had better be a dead body," David muttered. "I don't see what else would be worth waking us up in the middle of the night."

"Bloody hell, David." Killian swung his legs out of bed, groping for his robe as the chill air hit his skin.

"I saw my parents," Emma whispered.

She stepped into a shaft of moonlight and Killian realized that is wasn't darkness cloaking her body, it was the cloak. The hood was thrown back, so they could still see her face floating in midair like some spectre. Nearly Headless Nick would be quite miffed if he could see her now.

"Like in a dream?" David asked.

Emma shook her head. "No. Hurry, you have to see."

David rolled out of bed without further protest and Emma held a corner of the cloak out to each of them. To Killian's surprise, they all fit, it was tight, but as long as they kept their steps small enough to keep their feet inside the cloak, they were completely covered.

They wandered the corridors as the hour grew later, Emma muttering to herself the whole time, backtracking at points, growling in frustration at others. David tried to convince her that they should all go back to bed.

"No, this is it," she said, pointing to a suit of armor.

After checking the corridor, she whipped the cloak off of them and slipped inside the room. With a shrug, Killian followed.

The room was empty except for a tall mirror leaned up against the back wall. High as the ceiling with a gold frame and an inscription carved across the top in a language Killian never heard of before.

Emma stood in front of it, her fingers touching the glass, looking like she wished she could step into it.

"Do you see them?" She spoke low, as you might in a church.

"See who?" David asked. "I just see you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You two don't see anything?"

Killian shook his head.

Emma grabbed his sleeve, pulling him in front of the mirror instead. "There, look."

He obeyed and found that his wasn’t the only reflection in the mirror. He recognized Liam, with that sincere, affable smile. And his mother, looking like he'd never see her, with her hair combed and her eyes bright—shining with happiness as she stares up at someone Killian doesn't remember.

But he knows who it has to be.

It's clear that he and Liam inherited their father's eyes and dark hair. He smiled a close-lipped smile at Killian, full of regret and lost promises. Killian touched his shoulder, fingers on the exact spot where his father's hand rests in his reflection. The other hand hid in the shadows between Killian and Liam, joined to a shadow leading to his mother.

The woman standing next to his father, with her arm slung around his father's shoulders, stumped him. She wore bright red lipstick and big grin. The kind of grin that made you think doing something reckless was a good idea. Her hair was dark like his father's. Killian's eyes darted between the two of them, picking out the similarities. The arch of the brow. The shape of the eyes. He suddenly wanted to write home to Liam and ask if their father had a sister. And what happened to her.

The thing that surprised him the least was Emma, standing right next to him. He wasn’t surprised that she fit.

"Well, what do you see?" David asked.

"It's my family."

"Let David have a turn," Emma insisted.

"I just saw my family. At dinner." Despite his protests, David let Emma drag him in front of the mirror. His eyes widened.

"See?"

David gaped.

"Well?" Emma bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Well, it's not my family," David replied. He touched his chest. "I'm head boy, like Phil. And I've got the House Cup and—and the Quidditch Cup and I'm Quidditch captain..." His voice trailed off. "Does this mirror show the future?"

"It can't," Emma said, kicking at the ground. "My family all died a long time ago."

"Oh, right."

She spun on him suddenly. "What did you see Killian?"

"My family. My mum, dad, everyone. We were together."

A noise in the hallway made them all start and Mrs. Norris poked her mangy head around the door. Killian's heart dropped to his feet, but the cat glared at them briefly and disappeared back in the hallway with no sign of her owner.

"Let's get back," Killian whispered, "before she fetches Filch."

Emma and David nodded and they all ducked back under the cloak.

"Emma," Killian said once they were back in the room.

"Yeah?"

"You were there, too," he said softly. "With my family. You were there, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She sighed. "That sounds nice."

"Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell Liam some of what you told me? About how things are for you?"

The bed springs creaked, her blankets rustled. "What? Why?"

Killian's face felt very hot. "I just thought—I thought maybe you could spend the summer with us. So you don't have to go back to those awful people."

He waited so long for her to speak, he thought she'd fallen back to sleep.

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked in a feather light voice.

"No."

"That sounds nice, too."

When he woke the next morning, Killian got up straight away and dashed a note off to Liam. His brother knew that he and Emma were friends. Killian had mentioned her often enough in his previous letters, but this was the first time he talked about her in any detail. He hoped Liam didn't tease him for spending a whole letter on a girl.

Emma was distracted in the morning. She didn't want to play wizard chess with David or Killian, she shrugged away any mention of Nicholas Flamel. Killian knew she was thinking about the mirror.

"You're going again tonight?" David hissed.

Emma didn't say anything.

"Don't," he continued. "You're going to get caught. Think of the trouble you'll get into if someone catches you just sneaking out of the boy's dormitory...not to mention..."

"Why?"

David's face scrunched up in thought. "I—actually, I don't know..." He glanced at Killian who felt as lost as David looked.

Emma rolled her eyes. "No one can catch me if I'm wearing the cloak."

Despite Killian and David's protests, Emma went again that night, slipping out of bed and disappearing between one moon beam and another. Killian thought about going after her, but decided against it. It would only be worse if the two of them were caught. He waited, giving up on sleep within minutes.

Emma returned an hour later. "I won't go again."

"Good." And he rolled over and went to sleep.

In the morning, she folded up the cloak and carried it back to her room.

[giraffles]

We Kiss The Dusk Goodnight

this is an A/B/O au fanfic

because I have a Problem, here it the abo/omegaverse fic literally no one asked for but I’m in too deep now to stop. I really don’t know where this came from okay. JUST TAKE IT. and don’t kick me out of the fandom pls

warnings for language, some implied sexual content, and age gap. and actual smut eventually. I’M GETTING THERE OKAY. 

We Kiss The Dusk Goodnight (Bulge/Bruce/Manabu)

The next morning, over a third cup of coffee, Bruce delivered an ultimatum.

“We have to figure out who the hell it is,” he muttered into a mug, “Before they send half the station into a rut.”

Or, the omegaverse AU no one asked for.

you can also read the first chapter here on AO3!

He knew from the moment that Bruce slammed into him in the dark hallway that something was different. It wasn’t as though their relationship was new, or that meeting like this for a tryst was uncommon, but there was something heavier in the air between them. But what it was escaped Bulge, and it became harder to focus once he had a handful of Bruce’s hair and a mouthful of tongue. Trying to think about what may have changed took a backseat to getting their clothes on the floor of his quarters, and was suddenly irrelevant when Bruce started snarling possessively at him. Pack dynamics be damned; fucking with another alpha was an experience that never ceased to deliver. Or maybe he was just getting old, and any little thing would seem extra thrilling now.

     "Come on,“ was the near desperate whine as Bulge fumbled with the lube, "It’s been too fuckin’ long.”

He never would have described Bruce as wanton. Pushy, yes. A little needy, maybe, once in a while when some kid off their suppressants happened to walk by headquarters. Able to act downright devious when the mood struck him. And yet he’d never quiet seen him like this, bucking back, giving in, but also making Bulge work for every inch. And you know, he found he liked it. Gender and sexuality historians already had a field day with the SDF and the tight knit platoons that were both packs and most certainly not packs– they would have loved to have a look at a captain and his first officer falling in like this.

It wasn’t as though relationships of, ah, mutual benefits, didn’t happen. But those were usually throw away things, one night stands or scheduled with heat cycles, with attraction but not necessarily affection. Not the unwavering loyalty and connections that being soldiers-in-arms created. The SDF turned a blind eye to most incidents like this, as the higher ups (and by extension, the enigmatic supreme commander) didn’t care what they did as long as they got their jobs done. Ironic that a military organization had some of the most lax and open views on matters.

     "Damn,“ he swore, every sense on high alert, "Someone must be presenting.”

     "Fucking cadets,“ Bruce growled, his nails digging into Bulge’s shoulders, "They let them in way too young.”

It’s an empty complaint, because the age and timing of presenting could never really be guaranteed. Every time science and society thought they had it figured out, a new batch of outliners skewed the data again, proving that biology and evolution did whatever they damn well pleased. And that people don’t always like to fit into the molds the world set out for them. Strict roles were all but obsolete in this day and age, relics of times long past, even if some conventions died hard. Like the fact that most of those who ended up in combat units just happened to be alphas. Betas were most common after that, with omegas and the rest of the spectrum coming in last.

The next morning, over a third cup of coffee, Bruce delivered an ultimatum.

     "We have to figure out who the hell it is,“ he muttered into a mug, "Before they send half the station into a rut.”

Bulge agreed wholeheartedly, because the wheel universe stopped for no one, bodies going haywire or otherwise. “They may not even realize what’s happening.”

     "Fucking kids.“ Bruce repeated his sentiment from the night before. Bulge couldn’t admonish him, not when he knew it actually came from a place of concern. Someone could get hurt while in the wild throws of base desires. Scuffles might break out between unbonded parties, causing a headache for all involved and a HR nightmare. Most people could exercise discretion. Most, but not all. Bulge ran a hand over his face.

It was going to be a long day.

One long day turned into another, and then another, and they still couldn’t figure out who was running headlong into heat. Being in such close proximity to so many people meant that most went scent blind, and the prevalent use of suppressants dampened pheromones in general. Bulge hoped it was just someone who had missed a dose or two, or maybe some visiting family member, but something told him that it wouldn’t be that simple. If only for the fact that it came and went with such regularity that it had to be someone on SDF shifts. But without invading each person’s personal boundaries, it was impossible to pinpoint who. Performance in the Sirius platoon was already suffering; it was hard enough to rein his own short temper in, much less keeping Bruce in line and Manabu from butting heads with him. Louis was pointedly uninterested in the whole affair, and David did his best to diffuse situations, but everyone was on edge.

     "No, the other console Yūki, get it together–”

     "I have it together!“ Manabu snapped back, "Stop distracting me!”

     "Stop it, both of you,“ It honestly felt more like babysitting than leading a platoon through drills, "Get a hold of yourselves.”

Bruce huffed and Manabu went back to sulking, even brushing off Louis’ reassurances. The sooner they found whoever was the source of this, the better. For all of their sakes.

     "That’s enough for today.“ He sighed, even though it was early for them to be stopping. There was no point in continuing however when everyone was so wound up; He swore he caught David murmuring a prayer of thanks. At this rate, it was Sirius that would be having the first casualties, especially with the way Bruce kept fixating on Manabu-

Oh lord. Manabu.

If there were any merciful deities left in the cosmos, then please let him be wrong. Please don’t let it be the wide eyed and enthusiastic son of Wataru, too fresh and young and inexperienced to be dealing with such matters.

Bulge had always assumed Manabu was an alpha, like the rest of them. Like his father and brother before him. It would have made perfect sense from multiple standpoints, and regardless, he might be reckless and naive, but he wasn’t stupid. Not stupid enough to go off medications in an environment like this.

     "Manabu, a moment.”

     "What?“ Came the annoyed reply, though he quickly corrected himself, "What is it, captain?”

There was no easy way to start this conversation, especially with Bruce giving them a sideways glance as the rest of Sirius platoon disembarked. Sometimes his first mate did have some tact and stayed silent, leaving Bulge alone with a nervously fidgeting Manabu.

     "Manabu,“ he began anew, "I need you to be completely honest with me.”

     "About what?“

     "Tell me you’re on suppressants.”

Manabu went bright red, hands curled at his sides as though he was resisting the urge to cover his face. “W-who told you?”

     "No one. Everyone on the base can smell you, Manabu. You have been taking them, haven’t you?“

At that he did cover his face and sink into the nearest chair. Bulge felt a protective urge swell up in him, caught somewhere between concerned captain and alpha instincts.

     "Manabu, it’s alright-”

     "But it’s not,“ he sounded so utterly miserable, "It’s not okay and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

     "Nothing is wrong with you.“ Frankly, Bulge was alarmed that he would think there was. Who on earth had lead him to believe that? Then he remembered Tabito, the tiny mining planet, full of nice people. Traditional people. Stubborn people. God damn it to hell. "Manabu, look at me.”

It took several long minutes, but finally those brown eyes peeked out from behind his fingers. He looked so small in that moment, so unsure and shaken. Bulge wanted to reach out to him but knew it was a dangerous idea. Even a simple touch could have catastrophic results.

     "There’s nothing wrong with you,“ he repeated instead, "It’s normal.”

     "But I’ve been on the stupid pills for forever!“

     "Sometimes they stop working.”

     "Are you serious,“ Manabu groaned, "Oh my god, just kill me. Better yet, let Bruce kill me. That’ll make him happy.”

If only he knew about the way the first officer sometimes looked at him. Because of course Bulge noticed, and couldn’t fault him for it when the traitorous thoughts had passed through his own mind. But this was Manabu, fierce and compassionate and utterly oblivious. “Can you, ah, take care of it on your own? Or should I find someone to help?”

Manabu returned to being covered in flush and made a strangled sound. What he would have given in that moment to have Wataru back, just for this awkward conversation. Bulge wasn’t cut out for family life, much less pack duties, an certainly not prepared to give a pep talk on someone’s first heat.

“I can do it, I’ll be fine,” And then softer, “Probably.”

     "You’ve got to be kidding me.“

     "Bruce,” he grumbled back, “Give him a break. It’s not his fault.”

     "I know it’s not.“ And yet his first officer was pacing in the break room, agitated and probably ready to pick a fight with the next man who looked at him wrong. Which is exactly why Bulge had decided it was better to stick close to him. "Of all the people, why did it have to be him?”

Fate was a cruel thing like that. It didn’t much care for the wants and needs of the individuals subject to it’s whims. Yet he couldn’t have agreed more.

     "It’ll be fine.“ He said, even though he was unconvinced of that. Manabu had said he would be okay, but the young man’s track record on things was less than stellar. Just how many times had he disobeyed a direct order or accidentally gotten himself into trouble? ”…probably.“

     "This is insane.”

     "There’s not much we can do about it, save removing him from active duty.“

     "Have you?”

     "Yes,“ he nodded, "I’ve put in for the whole platoon, actually.”

That stopped Bruce, who looked back at him in confusion. “Why?”

     "Because none of us are in any state to fight.“ And, he doesn’t say, there was no way he would be leaving Manabu alone at the base. Not a chance in hell.

     "Stupid kid.” Bruce said without heat. He was worried. He’d never admit it, especially not to Manabu himself, but Bruce worries after him. Sure, he shrouded it in snark and biting words, kept him at arms length to spare himself any future pain. But he did care. Just in a roundabout way.

He felt the unease acutely. The outdated, nagging animal part of his subconscious wanted him to go out and fawn over the omega, stay close, so close, to him and make sure he was alright. Which was unnecessary, and oppressive; Manabu was his own person. And, he could only hope, not too proud to ask for help if he needed it. Then again, he was notoriously stubborn.

Maggie from Spica poked her head into the room. “Excuse me sir, but there’s a… situation.”

Bulge felt his stomach hit the floor and keep going. It hadn’t even been more than a few hours. Bruce swore, and had dashed out the door before he could move.

     "I’m going to kill him,“ Bruce spat once Bulge had caught up with him, "And then he’ll never be a pain in my ass ever again.”

If the spike in pheromones was distracting before, now it was downright overwhelming. Sticky sweet and alluring, enough to make his teeth itch. Tinged with a hint of panic and desperation. He remembered Manabu’s panic attack from one of their first missions, remembered the way that he could crumble so easily under too much stress, even if he came back from each fall that much stronger. He was alone somewhere in these halls, lost and scared, and Schwanhelt Bulge was going to find him.

It took every measure of restraint he had in his being to not rush the members of Vega platoon and then to keep Bruce from doing the same. They were all in a circle, ringing a huddled mass in front of the vending machines, who he could see shaking from ten paces back. Bulge gathered up what little calm he could before speaking.

     "Murase,“ he began evenly, "What is going on here?”

The leader of Vega turned his scarred face to them, lips curled in a snarl. “You haven’t kept your pup on a tight enough leash.”

If he was seeing red, then Bruce had to be absolutely livid. Bulge didn’t normally buy into the stereotypes of alphas beings hot-headed and temperamental, but there was no denying the tension crackling between the two groups of men. Vega actually had less alphas than Sirius, but that didn’t stop their two betas from being just as aggressive as their peers. He could appreciate the no nonsense, tough as nails approach to their platoon; what he didn’t appreciate was them hassling one of Sirius’ youngest members. Especially one who at the moment was so vulnerable.

     "Why do you keep this whelp around, anyway?“ Murase grabbed Manabu’s arm in an attempt to haul him upright, "He’s fuckin’ useless-”

     "Unhand him.“ Bulge growled, enough alpha tone sneaking in to make even Bruce flinch beside him, "This is none of your damn business.”

He sneered, but let go of Manabu, who crumpled onto the floor once more. In an instant Bruce was between the Vega men and him, radiating an aura of bloodlust. Bulge had no doubt it would come to blows if the veteran SDF members didn’t back down. Yet after several agonizing minutes, they did just that, with Murase shaking his head as he lead them away.

     "You should keep a better eye on that pup.“ Was Murase’s parting shot, and Bulge stared them all down until they had gone round a corner, then out of sight. A soft whimper brought him back to the moment.

     "Good god,” He crouched beside Manabu, who was still curled in upon himself, shuddering all the while, “Manabu?”

His head shot up, brown hair tousled, eyes wide with naked fear. Bulge’s reaction was automatic, as he reached forward and gathered the smaller man into his arms, where he clung to Bulge like a lifeline. He was nearly soaked though with sweat and it was hard to tell if his trembling was from being cornered by Vega platoon or something else entirely. Manabu let out a soft sob.

     "I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry,“ he hiccuped over and over again, hands wound tight into the fabric of Bulge’s coat, "I’m s-so sorry, I’m-”

It was pure torture, being wrapped up in him like that, when he smelled so enticing and his skin felt so hot. Yet it was alarming, because Manabu’s distress became his own, putting his mind into danger mode. It was so confusing too, to have to choose between the feeling of wanting to bundle him up and keep him safe, or throw pretenses out the window and fuck him silly right there.

No, the second one was most certainly not an option, not without Manabu’s explicit consent. The idea that Bulge had even considered it for a moment was insane. But as Bruce had said, this whole situation was insane.

     "It’s alright, I’ve got you,“ were the words he managed to get out while his heart tried to hammer it’s way through his chest, "You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

No, it was Bulge that should be apologizing. He should have never left Manabu unprotected. So what if they weren’t a real pack; he was still the ranking officer, the highest alpha in their group. He had a duty to them all to keep them safe and cared for. It didn’t matter if it was on the battlefield or not.

     "Captain,“ Bruce hissed, "What should we do?”

A good question. A very valid question. “Go to his room and get all of his bedding, then meet me at my quarters.”

Bruce took off without any further prompting, leaving him with a wreck of an omega to somehow get back to his own room. Bulge shifted Manabu so he could cradle him bridal style, and tried not to think about how sore he was going to be afterwords. Manabu may have been shorter and slighter than his father and brother, and done growing at just past twenty, but he was heavier than he looked. Especially when he became dead weight in Bulge’s arms. The only thing working in his favor was the death grip Manabu had on his shoulders.

     "I’ve got you.“ He said again, knowing that repetition of reassurances was one of the few comforts he could give at this point. Manabu stayed deathly quiet.

His captain’s quarters would be the safest place for the boy at the moment. It had extra security measures, was further away from the general dorming area, and most importantly, had space to breath. Not that the accommodations for regular officers were lacking, but there was extra square footage came along with his captain’s bars. It wasn’t a luxury Bulge often got to take advantage of, considering how often they were off world or completing missions, but he was glad for it. Now they just had to get there.

More than one head turned when he stormed down the halls with Manabu in hand, but none of them had enough of a death wish to stop him or ask questions. There was no use trying to hide what was happening; anyone with eyes and a nose could tell. Besides, sudden heats or failed suppressants were bound to happen from time to time, and only the most petty or immature would hold it against someone. He made a mental note to ask Yuki later if she could find a different medication, or some other resources for Manabu. Certainly her expansive medical database would have something that could help. In the meantime, Bulge was resigned to his fate as a stand-in pack leader.

     "What were you doing outside of your room?” He wondered aloud, not expecting the silent and shivering Manabu to answer. But after a sharp intake of breath, he did;

     "I just wanted a drink,“ Manabu mumbled into his neck, "I’m sorry.”

     "It’s alright,“ he tried to think of something, anything other than the hot body pressed against him, "I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

A heady, impulsive promise, but it felt right. It felt like proverbial stars aligning and Fate taking the helm, and he let it happen. Consequences could wait until a later date, maybe when they were all more clear headed and fully aware of the repercussions. But not right now. Manabu let out a soft sound and buried his head into his shoulder.

Finally they made it to his door, where an agitated Bruce carrying sheets and blankets was already waiting. He knew the code to get in, Bulge had shared it with him years ago, but it seemed he still waited for permission even after all this time. A nice gesture, but unnecessary given their history. (Yet, this was also not the only hangup Bruce had, his relationship with relationships being rocky at best. Bulge had been there for most of them and knew it was hard to come out unscathed, and not to mention his own lovers lost.) Still Bruce was the one to punch the password in, and the first to enter, heading straight for the bed as he’d already figured out the plan. Bulge’s bed wasn’t terribly large, but it still dwarfed the tiny bunks given to new recruits, and therefore was perfect for nesting. Even if Manabu didn’t understand it completely, having a place to nest would undoubtedly help. He tried not to think about the implications of having an omega in heat in his bed, even if their options were limited. Destiny Station might have protected heat rooms, he wasn’t sure, and in any case he felt better by having Manabu where he could keep an eye on him.

     “You have to let go, Manabu,” Bulge sighed to him when he continued to cling tight, “You’ll be safe here.”

     “Don’t want to,” Manabu murmured back, “You smell nice.”

     “Nope, that’s it,” Bruce said through gritted teeth, beginning to physically pry Manabu off of him, “You’re not allowed to make more of a fool of yourself than you already have.”

Manabu made little unhappy sounds, but they got him onto the bed. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, sweat sticking stray hairs to his face. Bulge had heard that the worst part of being an omega was the loss of autonomy— of becoming a slave to whim and instinct, left in a state that they were often taken advantage of in days of old. (And, as much he loathed to admit it, it still happened on backwater planets where society liked to backslid into unconscionable habits.) The amount of power he could wield over Manabu right then was ridiculous; and worst of all Manabu would let him do whatever he wanted. Whatever either of them wanted, actually.

Which was why Bulge was focusing on getting Manabu’s boots and coat off before hiding him under the sheets. Then he was going to take a bath in a tub of ice and try not to die.

     "Would you hold still?“ Bruce snapped at the younger officer, who was being very wiggly, trying to snuggle up to Bruce while he peeled off his SDF jacket, "Are they always like this?”

     "Yes,“ Bulge replied a little too quickly, remembering Catalina and the one time his off duty night happened to coincidence with her heat cycle, "Don’t be too hard on him. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing.”

At least the abject terror that had engulfed Manabu before was gone. Small things to be thankful for in a trying time. Fear was now being overtaken by desire, filling the room with heavy want, and he needed to get out before he went mad from it all.

     "I’m going to go get Yuki.“

     "But I’m fine now!” Manabu protested, and Bruce threw a blanket over him so that his next round of complaints were muffled.

     "Stay with him, I’ll be right back.“

Bruce sighed as he pushed more bedding on top of Manabu. "Yes, sir.”