#this lingering dread happens in every show I watch that started pre and continued after btw

[obessivedork]

I'm having fun with Farscape but I DO also have the lingering dread of knowing there's probably only MAYBE 2 seasons pre-.... well, we all know what happened in 2001. Also damn the writers really said "do you want to see this man suffer? Have we ever got you covered 😎"

[adorerdraco]

My Angel ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: Hi cutie! Could you write a draco x reader where they have a soft and quiet relationship? Like they dont need to be with each other all the time, or even talk, like they feel comfortable and safe in each other's presence? thank you!

Warnings: none !!!

Words: 1.1K

A/N: PLSSS I LOVE THIS IDEA I AM IN LOVEEE WITH HIM AHHH THANK YOU LOVELY ANON but this my first requesttt and i hope i wrote it the way you imagined !!! do not own gif

There was nothing Draco loved more than attention. He adored the praise he would get from his fellow Slytherins after a good quidditch match or a pleasing comment from his professor’s when he would get outstanding marks on his exams. He even sought out for attention when it would sometimes be negative, the laughter of his friends egging him on as he made fun of someone or causing a scene somewhere so that others would be aware of his presence. Bottom line, he didn’t mind being the center of attention, he most of the time craved it.

But when you came into his life, it was like a whole different world that you offered him. It was a world of calmness, a silent tranquility that would soothe his mind and body whenever he found himself around you. You gave him that change with warm smiles and gentle touches. Silent cloud watching and stargazing. Sitting together in the library studying or reading. Hanging out by the Black Lake, leaning against a tree, eyes closed with your back against his chest and his hands interlocked with yours on your lap. You were quiet and humble, unlike anything else he knew. He always felt at ease with you because with you, he didn’t need to be Draco Malfoy, sole heir of the Malfoy fortune and Prince of Slytherin; he was just Draco.

It was a sharp contrast from his loud and demanding life, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He liked being able to go from his rowdy reality to the tame and peaceful paradise with you. The beautiful thing with your relationship was that the two of you valued space and quality time. It was the only thing he had that was low key. He lived his life and you lived yours, both on complete opposite sides of the spectrum until you were with one another. It was nice for him, having you be apart from his everyday life. You were different for him and he adored all the new things that you showed him. You were safe, loving, and kind.

He especially liked your company when his days would become overwhelming and he would feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, all his stresses melting away the second you would greet him with an affectionate hug and a tender kiss. The need to be around you was magnetizing on these days, his legs guiding him to you as if they knew you were the cure to all his ailments.

When you would notice his more dreadful moods you would always, always, ask him a soft, “do you want to talk about it?”

Now and then he would answer with a nod if it was a really bad day and he’d briskly vent to you without too many details. But oftentimes, he would just shake his head and bury his face in your neck as he held onto you tightly, whispering a faint, “just hold me.”

You were like his own personal angel in the flesh, guiding him into bliss and bringing a meaningful light into his life that he rarely seemed to have. He could go on and on about you, always feeling like he needed to let you know just how much you meant to him but he never needed to and neither did you, the both of you just kind of knew. You knew in the way he would gaze lovingly at you when you would be sunbathing on a warm sunny day in the spring. He knew in the way you would mindlessly play with his hair with his head in your lap and a smile on your lips as you peered down at him. You felt it in his forehead kisses where he would linger for a few seconds before he would depart from you after hanging out. He felt it in your hugs where you had your arms looped around his neck, standing on your tippy-toes to place a tickling kiss on his nose. Wordless, plain and simple.

It was currently around dusk, the sun shining a warm pre-sunset glow onto the quidditch field where Draco was finishing practice. He hopped off his broom, a giddy feeling in his chest as he rushed to his dorm to take a quick shower because he knew the longer he took, the longer it would take for him to get to you. He ran a bit of product through his hair and lightly spritzed himself with his expensive cologne, (he most definitely wears Dior Sauvage or Bleu de Chanel), before nearly skipping out of the Slytherin common room to go find you in your usual spot outside the school where you would watch the sun’s descent and the moon’s awakening by yourself. He always happily joined you when he wasn’t busy or if you asked him to, today being one of those days.

He walked outside, quickly finding you with your back against the stone walls of the castle and a book in your hand about astronomy that he had suggested to you. He smiled to himself, admiring the concentration on your face and the way your lips would mouth the words you read.

“Is the book any good?” He asked as he neared you. He sat himself down beside you and pressed a soft kiss to your temple causing you to smile at the gesture.

“It’s very good,” you nod, showing him you were nearly halfway through even though he had told you about it that morning in passing. “How was quidditch practice?”

“Good,” he answered with a yawn, “just tired now.”

You patted your shoulder and he chuckled, adjusting himself so that he could lay his head comfortably against your arm, letting your own fall gently above his. Your hand on the arm he was laying on rested against his cheek and he hummed in delight. You continued silently reading your book while he had his eyes closed, letting himself bask in the warmth radiating off your body and the feeling of peace that followed you.

In his head, he thanked the stars for you and for the day that seemingly happened so long ago when you were introduced into his rumbustious life.

It was at the Hogwarts library, slumped over his Potions essay and his head in his hands as he stressed away at the parchment below his quill. He had been in there all week, continuously getting distracted with the most beautiful girl that he’s ever seen that carried herself so ethereally like a goddess from another world. He allowed himself to steal glances at you every so often, unbeknownst to him that you were doing the same thing. At this point, he didn’t care that he was making little to no progress on his essay, just enjoying the time that he spent in the library where he knew you would always be.

Little did he know, you would be walking up to him one of those days, a kind smile on your face as you pointed to the empty seat in front of him with a question that started it all.

“Can I sit here?”

[rocorambles]

Training Camp ft. Ikkei: Part 1 - Know Your Place

Pairing: Yandere Nekomata x Kuroo ft. Ikkei

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Sex Toys, Chastity Cage, Exhibitionism, Voyerism, Humiliation, Degradation, Objectification, Cock Warming, Sweat Kink, Overstimulation, Gangbang

Summary: Nekomata has special plans for Kuroo’s first New Year’s trip. 

Previous | Next 

A/N: Of course I need to dedicate this to @sawamooora #1 Ikkei stan. 

Kuroo impatiently waits, brimming with excitement as he searches for the familiar sight of Nekomata’s car approaching, suitcase packed and ready to go besides him. It’s been months since their little relationship began and the pink cage around his cock and the plug nestled in his ass feel like second skin, bringing a sense of comfort to the younger man as he’s reminded of just who belongs to with every shift he feels against his sensitive cock and insides. 

He’s always hated New Year’s, dreaded being forced to spend more time than he wanted to at home, in an empty house devoid of any real familial love other than a fond smile here or there from his grandparents. He doesn’t want to be ungrateful and he loves his grandparents, he really does, but the loneliness is tormenting, the emptiness and silence clawing and digging its way under his skin as the clock ticks down to midnight every year, with only him there to greet the new year, his grandparents already long fast asleep and his father nowhere to be found. 

But this year...this year’s going to be different and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when a car honks at him from the street, practically skipping and almost tripping over his long legs as he shoves his suitcase into the trunk of his coach’s car and hops in the passenger seat. 

Kuroo’s always been envious hearing his friends tell him about the fun celebrations their family did over the holiday, something green and ugly churning in his guts whenever someone rambled on and on about the amazing family trip they went on during the time off. But over time, as he got older, he had grudgingly come to terms that it’s just never something he’d ever experience, settling for the quiet dragging days he spent idling away in his bedroom instead. 

So when Nekomata had asked him if he wanted to go away to the countryside with him over the New Years holiday during one of their post-coital cuddle session, he could hardly believe his ears, almost smacking the old man in the face with how quickly he turned to stare at him with wide hazel eyes before grinning and enthusiastically nodding his head. His body suddenly regained all of its energy despite how many orgasms had been coaxed out of him and he noisily pestered the older man with all types of questions about what they’d be doing and exactly where they were going, only shutting up with a gasp when a wrinkled hand reached down to circle his cum-filled hole, amused eyes staring at him as a finger slipped inside the loosened entrance. 

“Well if you’ve recovered enough to make so much noise, let’s put that newfound energy and loud mouth to use.” 

Needless to say, Kuroo didn’t get any answers that night. 

And even now as they begin their long road trip, he still has no clue or hint of what’s in store for him. 

Nekomata fondly smiles as Kuroo inquisitively looks around, pretty eyes sparkling with excitement and awe as he scurries around like a kitten exploring new territory, examining every inch of Ukai Ikkei’s peaceful training camp nestled among the woods of Miyagi. It’s a beautiful location, so different from the bustling city of Tokyo, hidden from prying eyes, only snow and barren trees visible for miles and miles. Perfect for what he has planned for his adorable pet and he laughs when Kuroo lays beside him that first night, pouting and whining about Nekomata not telling him that there were indoor volleyball courts here so he could pack accordingly. 

He had wondered when Kuroo would bring it up and despite creaking bones, he eagerly makes his way to his own suitcase, pulling out a package he had purposefully kept hidden for this very moment, gleefully watching as the taller man curiously opened the bag. Not many things catch Kuroo off guard, so Nekomata watches in pride as the athlete’s jaw drops, almost reaching the ground as he realizes exactly what he’s staring down at. 

The Nekoma captain knows it’s going to be a long weekend when he sees the vibrating butt plug innocently laying on top of a bundle of fabric, throat dry as he sets the toy aside and examines the soft bundle still inside, cock twitching in interest in its prison, a little whine stuck in his chest. 

“Shouldn’t you thank me? Now you’ll be able to play all the volleyball you want this weekend. I even have some old friends visiting tomorrow who can join us.” 

“It’s- That’s way too small! You want me to wear just this in front of other people?” 

Hazel eyes pleadingly stare at the older man, but it’s no use and Kuroo pouts as Nekomata sternly stands his ground, reluctantly nodding his head and cuddling into his cushy chest when the coach uses his weakness against him, softly murmuring little praises about how good he’ll look, how he just wants to show off his handsome boy to everyone. 

Doesn’t Kuroo want to make him happy? 

He does! He does! 

And despite how embarrassing it is, lean toned torso on display, cute nipples pebbled in arousal as Nekomata teasingly sucks the two peaks to attention, tiny bulge and ass cheeks practically hanging out of the skimpy black spandex shorts (really just glorified panties), Kuroo can’t help the pleased flush he feels spreading inside of him at how proud and hungrily Nekomata looks at him, whispering how gorgeous he is as he playfully prods and pushes the vibrating plug inside of Kuroo’s tight hole. 

But it’s time to play a different game and Nekomata pulls the dazed boy after him, pretending nothing’s unusual about how he introduces the almost naked youngster to the rest of the senior citizens gathered on the indoor court, ignoring the leering looks they give the flustered athlete, biting back a smile at how veiny wrinkled hands roam and linger inappropriately across Kuroo’s body as they introduce themselves and greet the frazzled man. 

He’s proud of how well Kuroo takes all the attention and the wandering touches, something akin to jealousy curling inside of him at how the messy haired man unconsciously leans into fingers that run along his nipples and sticks his ass out just a bit more when someone presses up behind him. Maybe he had trained his toy too well, but there’s no time to linger on it, not when everyone’s lining up on either side of the net and getting in game position. 

Adrenaline pumps through Kuroo and he feels at home, almost forgetting the embarrassing outfit he has on as he gets ready to play like he always does, thinking to himself if maybe he should take it down a few notches, not wanting to hurt any of the frailer men around him. He sees a spiker jump in front of him and he leaps in the air, toned arms reaching up, ready to block the ball, but he yelps, mind going white as the vibrator inside of him is suddenly turned on, pressing relentlessly against his prostate and he falls on the ground in surprise. 

Old faces crowd around him, rough hands helping him up, voices asking him if he’s okay, but it’s all background noise as he stares wide-eyed at Nekomata, heart racing at the smirk he receives in response, the flash of a remote peeking from his coach’s shorts solidifying his worst fears. But there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can say without letting everyone else around him know exactly what’s happening, that he’s traipsing around in public with a toy shoved inside of his ass like a slut. So he stays silent, plastering on a forced smile on his face as he reassures everyone he’s fine, unaware of the shared smirks behind his back, all of them in on Nekomata’s naughty little secret. 

It only gets worse after that, the vibrations becoming unpredictable in timing and intensity, sometimes hitting him at the peak of his jumps, sometimes starting up in between plays, sometimes not moving at all, only making it so much worse when it does begin again after a longer pause than normal. His anticipation and anxiety only makes things worse and he knows he’s a mess, sluggish, sweating far too much for a simple game with old men, sloppy. But he grits his teeth, determined to make it through at least the first set before making up some excuse to leave and relieve himself. 

Unfortunately Nekomata and company have different plans for him and when he once again jumps to block another spike, he can’t hold back the scream as the vibrations hit him full blast, not stopping even when he collapses on the ground, writhing and grabbing his ass, begging Nekomata to turn it off, uncaring of how everyone is watching the lewd spectacle he’s making of himself. 

But it’s not Nekomata who hauls him up and he sobs as Ikkei snarls at him to stop whining, sneering at him for being a fucking whore who can’t live without a toy inside of him. 

“How dare you waste all of our time by pulling shit like this? We’re here to play volleyball, not babysit a horny slut. So go make yourself useful, get off the fucking court, and be our little bench cock warmer since you clearly need something to always fill that slutty hole of yours.” 

Kuroo can hardly register what’s happening, incoherently blabbering and drooling as the intense vibrations still relentlessly assault him, mindlessly following as Ikkei continues to drag him over to the metal bench, moaning as his pre-cum soaked shorts are pulled off of him. He petulantly whines when the plug is pulled out of him, immediately changing his tune and apologizing when Ikkei’s hands swat at his ass, rough palms humiliatingly spreading his ass cheeks apart, leaving his gaping fluttering hole on full view for everyone. 

But when he’s positioned over Nekomata’s sitting form, trembling thighs bending as he’s shoved down on the cock he’s grown so familiar with, it feels like everything’s right in the world and a dopey smile spreads across his face when he bottoms out, the familiar weight and heat inside of him soothing his highstrung body. And suddenly he can care less about how the rest of the men are crowding around Nekomata and him on the excuse of being on a “water break”, greedy eyes taking in how Kuroo’s long legs splay wide open, pretty pink chastity cage out in the open, tight hole stuffed full of old man cock. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, body drunk on pleasure, jolted back to attention here and there by fingers that teasingly tweak and brush his nipples, a wrinkled hand easily fondling his cute little caged cock in one hand, a raspy voice mockingly tsking him for dripping so much sticky pre-cum everywhere. 

The first set finishes and then there’s bickering as the other old men complain about how it’s unfair that only Nekomata gets a cock warmer when he sits out, demanding that Kuroo be passed around as a communal object. Nekomata is hesitant, surprisingly fierce possessiveness keeping him from readily agreeing. But when Ikkei urges him on, encouragingly asking his long-time friend things like “don’t you ever want to just sit back and watch?”, “don’t you want to see what your little pet looks like being split on multiple cocks?”, he can’t help the voyeuristic curiosity inside of him that ultimately has him acquiescing.

Kuroo doesn’t know how many times he’s passed around, doesn’t care, mind only able to think of being full, uncaring of how or by who. 

Sometimes he’s made to face the game, fingers prodding his face, palms gently slapping his cheeks until he’s paying attention, forced to keep track of points, punished by vicious pulling and twisting of his aching nipples and smacks to his pathetically imprisoned cock when he says the wrong numbers or forgets to say anything at all after a point is scored. 

Sometimes he’s made to face the player whose cock is splitting him apart, coaxed into sloppily making out with chapped lips, the scent of elderly bodies filling his nostrils, the wet sound of tongues and mouths tangling together echoing in his ears, bony hands digging into his bare ass. 

He thinks he may have passed out once or twice, maybe even a few times, only to wake up moaning, tears in his eyes as arousal and denial mix and meld in a painfully intoxicating cocktail inside of him. All he needs, all he wants is to bounce on the cocks shoved inside of him to his heart’s content, desperate even for the lackluster untouched prostate orgasms he’s limited to with his chastity cage still firmly locked. But anytime he tries to even shift his hips, every time he even breathes louder than normal, he’s scolded and vulnerable inner thighs are meanly pinched until he stays still like a good toy. 

It’s all a frustratingly dizzying experience, time and space blurring in Kuroo’s mind, brain turning off as he allows himself to just submerge in the feeling of being passed around and used, allowing himself to just let go and be the mindless sex toy they want him to be. But he’s snapped back to reality by a sudden inability to breathe and piercing coldness across his entire torso, muffled squealing filling the air as he’s laid face down on the cold metal bench, Ikkei’s cock breaching his mouth further and further, Nekomata sinking balls deep inside of his loose ass, both men surrounding him, their legs spread on either side of the bench, caging him in between them. 

As his mouth is stretched painfully wide, nose brushing against Ikkei’s lower stomach, gray scratchy hairs tickling his face, ass full, Nekomata’s hands playfully kneading and groping his toned buttcheeks, any humane part left in his sex-crazed mind shatters. All he knows is serving and pleasure and he happily moans as his bare flat back is used as a table for sweaty towels, soaked fabric carelessly tossed on top of him. An especially drenched towel is thrown over his head and he deeply inhales, the salty heavy smell of sweat intermingling with the musk of Ikkei’s groin only dragging him further down a path he’ll never be able to recover from.

He could live happily just like that for the rest of his life, filled on both ends, white cotton fabric acting as a blindfold, encasing him in the pungent scent of his tormentors, reminding him just how far he’s fallen. But his owners have different plans, ignoring his little complaining mewls from being left empty and unfulfilled as Ikkei and Nekomata pull out of him. The towel still around his face prevents him from seeing anything, but a delighted smile slips on his face at the feeling of something prodding at his entrance, a content sigh escaping him when the familiar vibrating plug is pushed back into him, eyes closing and focusing on the soothing feeling of being filled once again. 

But that comfort is short lived and he screams, a panicked overwhelmed keen that makes the men around him laugh as the vibrator is suddenly turned onto its highest setting, the borderline unbearable intensity against his relentlessly stimulated prostate driving him crazy, body writhing and convulsing in agonized bliss, fat tears and drool making a mess of his face. Yet that doesn’t stop his audience from meticulously pulling back up his ridiculously tiny booty shorts, pulling the material snugly high up on Kuroo’s hips, locking the plug even more firmly in place, slapping the captain’s perky ass for good measure and prodding at the toy inside of him through the stretchy fabric as he continues shaking and trembling, eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out. 

The towels that had been strewn about his body and head all lie rumpled and discarded on the ground, thrown off by the younger man’s chaotic movements, and the group of men watch in awe and lust, veiny wrinkled hands pumping their useless old cocks at how broken their little toy looks. He barely looks human. He definitely doesn’t sound human. And it only makes the desire in their aged bodies grow that much more, pride and power swelling inside of them at how much control they still have, despite their numbered days, over a bright and powerful young thing like Kuroo Tetsurou. 

Gangbangs? They’re a young men’s game. But as they stare at the now cum covered man still sobbing and wailing as the vibrator inside of him continues its relentless assault, slobbering all over their cocks and fingers as they make sure not to let a drop of their sticky liquid go to waste. They can’t help but give themselves a pat on the back for their successful attempt, yawning and slowly walking away on aching legs and hips, bones creaking and cocks exhausted from being used so thoroughly after almost decades of no action.  

Kuroo makes to get up, confusion in dazed hazel eyes as he tries to follow the pack, whimpering as every move he makes only makes the vibrations inside of him hit different angles. But he’s gently shoved back down by two pairs of hands and he bewilderedly pants, turning his attention towards Nekomata and Ikkei, gasping when they each toy with one perky nipple as they amusedly observe him. 

“And where do you think you’re going, Tetsurou? There’s water bottles, towels, and all this equipment that still needs to be packed up and stored away. I’m not turning off your little toy until everything is cleaned up, understand? So better get to it.”

Tears stream down his face at the stern words, dismayed eyes taking in just how much of a mess there’s left for him to clean, realization that his torment has hardly begun sinking in. But he shakily nods and two pairs of eyes watch in sick fascination as their little slut begins to move around, breathy gasps and lewd moans interspersed with his actions, stumbling and panting like a cat in heat. 

It’s going to be a great training camp.  

[caiminnent]

no road home [kylux, rated T]

PROMPTS: stranded - bug - break down by @kyluxxoxo ​

SUMMARY: When Hux gets bitten by a venomous insect on an unfamiliar planet, it falls on Kylo to bring them both back home—alive.

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Near Death Experiences, Stranded, Angst, Mutual Pining, Pre-Slash, Hopeful Ending, Protective Kylo Ren, Timeline What Timeline, Mentioned Brendol Hux, The Author Regrets Everything

NOTES: 

Disclaimer: Research told me I could have either a very well-researched WIP or an unrealistic fic. I chose the fic. If you know anything at all about insect bites or survival, please accept this as my formal apology.

Heads-up for Hux trying to talk Kylo into leaving him for dead. No MCD or suicidal tendencies, because that's not how I roll; but Hux does temporarily give up somewhere in there.

2.5K || ALSO ON AO3

Hux collapses just outside the clearing.

Panic seizing his chest, Kylo breaks his fall with the Force on instinct—manages to catch Hux’s head, the rest of his body hitting the ground with a thud that echoes in Kylo’s skull. Kriffing hells. Be conscious, be conscious, please you infuriating—

Hux is conscious—thank stars he is, lying there with his eyes wide open and face pinched tight in his agony. He might not be breathing.

Placing Hux’s head down gently, he drops on a knee next to him. “Hux?”

Hux closes his eyes and empties his lungs on one, long exhale. “My knees gave way,” he mutters, irritation and anger underlying his tone at his body’s apparent betrayal. “It’s all right. Just give me a moment.”

Stark relief courses through Kylo, the grip around his heart loosening.

Hux takes minutes on the ground, working his body—rolling his ankles, clenching and unclenching his hands, turning his head. Once satisfied with his findings, he pushes himself up to a half-roll, then a sitting position. Kylo helps him with a hand between his shoulder blades—Hux hisses at the pressure, flinching away from his touch. No. It must be the fall; it can’t have already—

Stomach at his feet, “Let me see,” Kylo says, tugging at Hux’s sleeve. Exposing more of Hux’s skin might not be smart, considering; but he needs to see for himself—needs to know how much longer they have left.

At Hux’s questioning look, “We should keep track of how far it’s developed,” he adds. A half-lie, at worst. “The research team will need the data.” Useless as it will be, with no way to capture it without their datapads.

Hux frowns deeper, sizing him up through the corner of his eye—weighing Kylo’s sincerity. Kylo steels himself against the sting of Hux’s distrust—justified as it may be—and tugs again.

Releasing another long sigh, Hux shifts into a steadier position, raising his knees. His hands are trembling as he makes short work of his belt and the hidden clasps of his tunic—lightly enough to dismiss, if it were anyone else. The tight undershirt comes off last, pulled carefully away from Hux’s skin.

Blood freezes in Kylo’s veins.

The rash has spread from the bug bite high at his nape, the purple boils extending to Hux’s upper arms and halfway down his torso in thick cords, the skin around some red and broken where Hux must have scratched them behind Kylo’s back. No signs of development up or around Hux’s throat; but gut feeling says it’s a matter of yet.

They need to get Hux into the medbay before that happens.

-------------

After the first sun’s set, fever and nausea enter into the equation.

They were expecting it. The insect, whatever it might be, injected some sort of toxin into Hux’s system. Logic follows that the body will want to fight it through whatever means necessary.

If only he could make it easier on Hux.

Left up to him, he would have just thrown Hux over his shoulder instead of letting him exert himself further, the general’s useless pride be damned—better yet, they wouldn’t have had to rescue themselves from this backwater planet in the first place. As it is, his options are limited to pushing water into Hux’s hands and biting his tongue as Hux’s steps slow down the longer they go.

He doesn’t let himself ask to see the rash again, either. He just watches Hux’s hand drift lower and lower.

-------------

Without a map and unfamiliar with the terrain—Hux’s unnecessarily extensive dossiers would have come in handy here, were he given the time to prepare one before they were dropped planetside for a fool’s errand—he relies mostly on the Force’s guidance to find their way out. Much to Hux’s displeasure. Hitting flowing water like Kylo said they would put an end to the snide comments; but Hux still won’t try the berries the Force deemed safe.

Not that there would be a point to it, now.

Hux is on his knees next to a tree again, dry-heaving. Kylo’s own stomach aches with how hard Hux’s body is trying to cough up nothing; even river water barely stayed down long enough to count as success.

Once done, Hux practically drops against the tree trunk. His skin is dotted with sweat; he wipes it on a clean corner of the tunic he didn’t put back on. “That’s it,” he chokes—clears his throat. “I need a break.”

They both could use one. Kylo could keep going if he had to; but they’re playing the long game here—he needs to save his energy just in case. He won’t be any good to Hux if he exhausts himself unnecessarily.

They can’t afford to linger long, though. Hux’s breathing has been growing shallower since the third sun’s rise, his skin losing what little color it had; every minute is against them.

“We can take ten minutes,” he allows. “Then we have to get back on the road.”

Hux rests his head against the trunk with a sigh, closing his eyes. Without the strength to keep his mental shields up, his thoughts are laid out in front of Kylo—and what a glorious minefield it is. Hux thinks in stark visuals: of his father, rank stripes they shared, Phasma, his vibroblades, an orange tabby Kylo had thought to be just a rumor; of Hux himself on an unfamiliar throne and Kylo standing next to him, of Kylo’s broken body on the snow, Kylo floating in a bacta tank with an oxygen mask covering most of his face—circling back to Brendol Hux in that same tank, dissolving too slowly and painlessly for Hux’s liking.

Kylo wanders a little deeper into Hux’s mind and finds those tendrils of tenderness and affection again, gently redirecting Hux’s thoughts to the cat. Her name is Millicent, apparently—Millie, who likes to sleep behind Hux, in the crook of his knees. Millie, who costs a small fortune to feed, without taking Phasma’s treats into account that Hux pretends not to know about. Millie, who won’t show herself to any of Hux’s visitors but Mitaka.

Millicent, whom Hux might never see again.

Breathing deep to chase away the tightness in his chest, “Time’s up,” Kylo says, pushing himself off the ground. Hux watches him slap dust off his robes and heft what remains of their supplies with misty eyes. “Come on, Hux. You can sit around as much as you want when we get back to the base.” Just watch anyone besides the medical personnel try to come twenty feet near him.

“If we get back to the base,” Hux corrects him through a hoarse throat, not unkindly. “Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?”

“Yes.” Mostly. Individual Force signatures are nearly impossible to identify from this distance; but they are headed towards a large group of people. Even if it’s just locals, they might know something about the venom flowing through Hux. With any luck, they might have an antidote or at least some relief to provide for Hux while Kylo figures out how to send a message to the base. It’s better than what they currently have, at any rate.

Hux raises a brow in disbelief, the heat of his glare diminished by the slackness of his face as his expression fails to tighten into its usual lines. He tilts his head up, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his folded arms on them. “How much farther?”

Kylo anchors his senses on the strongest signature, a wildfire among torches and candles. By their progress so far, he would estimate… longer than what they have left of daylight. Kriff. If only he had his helmet.

“A couple hours,” he lies. Hux will have his head when he realizes it; but he’s suffered a lot more for a lot less. “Less if we pick up the pace.”

Hux nods slowly at the sky, making no move to get up. “Certainly you realize,” he starts, a new weight to his measured tone. “I don’t have another couple hours’ trek in me. Let alone picking up the pace.”

Dread fills his guts, dark and heavy. “Come on, General,” he tries with a low chuckle, aiming for mocking. “All your scheming, all your grand plans of ruling the galaxy—was it all just so you can waste away in the middle of nowhere?”

An image of snow flashes in Hux’s mind—blindingly white and oppressive, vivid enough to send a shiver down Kylo’s spine. The remains of the Starkiller Base shakes under their feet as Hux half-carries, half-drags Kylo’s barely conscious bulk across the snow, taking stumbling steps towards safety.

The slash across his face burning anew, Kylo flees from Hux’s mind, not brave enough to face Hux’s account of Kylo’s biggest failure.

Hux grimaces, sending him a look that says careful, Ren. “I appreciate your efforts,” Hux continues in that same, carefully neutral tone. “Truly, I do. Not many would have lasted this long. With a dead weight on their side—” Bile rises in Kylo’s throat. “—not many would have even tried.” Hux meets his gaze, steel in his eyes. “Thank you for having tried, Kylo Ren.”

No. No, that can’t be Hux. General Armitage Hux is a survivor before anything—he would have stared death down than sit and wait for it. “I don’t know what the hells has gotten into you,” Kylo spits, the words leaving a bitter taste at the back of his mouth. “But I’m not returning alone.”

“You weren’t given a choice in this matter.” Hux sighs—in his usual, bone-weary exasperation. Kylo latches onto the Hux-ness of the gesture in the middle of this foreign everything. “It is not failure to accept what you couldn’t have prevented, Ren. You are just cutting your losses. I’m sure Leader Snoke will understand.”

“Shut up, Hux,” he hisses, his hands curled into trembling fists. His insides are liquid fire, churning and boiling like lava.

“Not even you can win against nature, Ren. Leader Snoke—”

“Damn Snoke to the void!”

The silence rings between them—or it might be Kylo’s ears. His breath tears out of his chest, coming in short puffs. Hux thinks—Hux expects that Kylo will leave him for dead and go back to the base by himself—the base with its mindless soldiers and stupider minions and no one to walk beside him through the endless hallways, no one to find him when he needs to not be alone the most and to put him back together—

Hux blinks at him, trying to school his features into a scowl. “Why are you fighting me on this?” he snaps. “I won’t find my way out of these woods, not alive—and you risk stranding yourself by trying to make me. There’s no reason for both of us to die here.”

“We will not.” Kylo won’t let it—by stars, he won’t, no matter what comes.

“I thought you would be relieved,” Hux says, his tone pitching higher in accusation—as if trying to save his kriffing life is one of Kylo’s bigger shortcomings. “You’ve been trying to get me out of your way since day one—and now that—” He draws in a shallow, effortful breath—Kylo’s lungs tense with it. “Now that you can without drawing Snoke’s ire, you try your damnedest to save me. Why?”

Because the future of the galaxy depends on you, Kylo should say—should stroke Hux’s ego enough to bring him back from whatever messed up, morbid headspace he’s fallen into. Because the First Order needs you. Because I— “Save your energy for the trip, Hux.”

“No,” Hux barks, every bit the stern general commanding his bridge, even half-undressed and sitting three steps from his own mess. “Tell me why you insist on keeping me alive.”

All too aware of his heartbeat, “What do you care?” Kylo snarls. “I’m making sure you’ll live to see your petty dreams through. Does it kriffing matter why?”

Hux looks at him intently, as if trying to see through him—to take him apart. His thoughts are so loud when he wants them to be, reaching; if he were Force-sensitive, he would have been screaming his thoughts into Kylo’s mind.

Taking it as an invitation, Kylo slips back into Hux’s mind—like a guest most welcome, instead of an intruder who found the door unlocked. Hux is thinking about the Starkiller Base again, but the memory is of Kylo lying on the snow this time, his breath ghosting over him the only sign he’s even alive. Fear fills Kylo’s—no, Hux’s heart at the sight, dizzying and amplified, coming from the center of his being. The bloodstain on the snow as he lifts Kylo’s torso off the ground with considerable strain, careful of his injuries. The medbay, watching Kylo float in the bacta tank with a heavy heart and raw palms. Seeing Kylo for the first time after his release from the medbay, in the Supreme Leader’s throne room, sans the helmet that still irritates Kylo’s facial wound—cold hit of relief that he quickly smothers, composing himself before approaching the two of them with sharp clicks of heels.

Oh.

“Yes,” Hux says, his unblinking gaze daring Kylo to look away—the many scenarios of potential humiliation at Kylo’s hands flickering just beyond his awareness. “As a matter of fact, it does.”

Kylo breathes—breathes again, mind reeling. He reaches into Hux’s mind again, just to make sure he’s not reading this wrong—but no, the feelings are all there. Buried deep, deep enough to escape Kylo’s notice unless he went looking for them—deep enough for Hux to ignore unless he chose to. That, more than anything, convinces Kylo of their authenticity.

Stepping closer, he sinks onto one knee in front of Hux, separated by Hux’s bony knees between them. He reaches to cup a careful hand over Hux’s face—sure of his welcome, yet no less hesitant for it.

“I’ll tell you at the base,” Kylo says softly, running a thumb over Hux’s hot, damp cheekbone. Disbelief rises in Hux—disbelief and suspicion and dangerous, dangerous hope. “How about that, General? Live for me and I’ll tell you why.”

The long look Hux gives him is the same as before, careful and calculating. Appraising. Kylo kneels and lets himself be judged, wishing deeply, desperately, to be found honest and true for once in his wretched life.

Something clicks in Hux’s eyes, his expression shuttering. Kylo doesn’t know what it means—but Hux is leaning forward in the next moment, putting his arm over Kylo’s shoulders and Kylo just doesn’t kriffing care.

Kylo wraps his own arm around Hux’s slim waist, keeping the pressure light on the boils he can feel under the thin fabric as Hux finally, finally helps himself up on shaky arms and legs. It takes two false starts to get him to stand by himself—and this time, when Hux’s knees buckle under him, Kylo is there to hold him up.ba

[kirishii-gay]

Kiribaku Week Day 1

BITTERSWEET- Co-written by @fortheloveofbmo​

Word Count: 5k Prompt: Shy / Coffee Shop AU / Tears

@kiribakuweek2k18​

Read on AO3 Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356611

Katsuki grimaces as he finishes buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror. Another day, another fuckin’ dollar. It’s seven am on a Sunday morning, and here he is getting ready for another lovely day of his customer service job. He loops his tie around his neck, and knots it mindlessly as he stares out the window at the lighting sky. He can at least be thankful that he didn’t have the opening shift. The only thing he dreads is who else he has to work with this morning aside from his boss, Aizawa. If there’s any benevolent deity out there watching over him it will be Kendou. She’s professional, and a cool chick all around. Shifts with her are more tolerable.

Katsuki slides his non-slip shoes on, and makes his way out of his apartment. He has to get to the station in fifteen minutes if he has any plans to get to the cafe on time. He jogs over to the stairs, knowing the elevator is ‘down for maintenance’. It seems like the elevator is down for maintenance every few weeks, but Katsuki supposes that’s what’s to be expected when you live at a cheap apartment building.

Meanwhile, Eijirou has finally given in to his screaming alarm and gotten out of bed, unusually excited. The sun seems to twinkle a little brighter as it coats the room in a soft hue, gently asking Eijirou to get up. The red-head complies, hoisting himself up and running his hand through his messy bed-hair. The apartment still feels unfamiliar, waking up each day without recognition at first before becoming acclimated with his new bedroom. His high school friend, Sero, is next door, accompanied by his roommate, Kaminari, who is also friends with Eijirou. Things seem pretty cool so far.

The only thing he hasn’t found is a job, which is his plan for today. Carmine eyes scan his wardrobe before lighting up and he grabs pieces of clothing, shrugging them on. Eijirou takes one last look in the mirror and nods happily at the sight. He’s chosen a semi-expensive, tight-fit black shirt that has sleeves that reach just below his elbows and clings to his chest slightly, with blood-red trousers.

He starts to gel up his hair in the mirror of his fairly small bathroom,

The redhead makes his way down the hall, heading towards the staircase. On the stairs is a young man with spiked, ash-colored hair and intense red eyes. He’s wearing what looks like a uniform for some cafe. Eijirou recognises him as the guy who lives across from his apartment, but they have never really talked. “Yo!” Eijirou calls, waving as he makes his way over to the blond. “I live in the apartment opposite you, but I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Kirishima!”

Katsuki turns to face the man speaking to him. It’s some guy, probably around his age, with red hair gelled up in a bizarre hairstyle. He had actually seen the guy moving in a few weeks prior, but he hasn’t had a desire to speak with him. Katsuki has been quite preoccupied with his exams for summer classes, so the new neighbor hadn’t been a priority at the time. The red-head might be cute as hell, even with that shitty hair-do, but Katsuki has enough on his plate as it is without extra social obligations.

The blond tsks and begrudgingly answers, “Bakugou. Now, I have to fuckin’ split. I have a train to catch.” He turns away, hoping the other will leave it at that.

Eijirou’s eyes widen and he runs forward to grab Bakugou’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Bakugou shoots him an annoyed expression and Eijirou releases his hand with a nervous chuckle. Embarrassing or not, Eijirou doesn’t want the conversation to end there. He racks his brain for a conversation starter, dreading the lingering silence before Eijirou’s eyes dart down to the blond’s outfit. A vest hugs his chest, as well as tight-fit black jeans, and a tie hangs tightly from his neck which he keeps tugging every so often.

“Nice uniform! Do you work there?” The redhead comments, beaming and voice filled with newfound excitement. “I’ve been looking for a job for a while, actually. Are they hiring?”

“No,” he drawls, shaking the hand off of his shoulder irritably, “I’m just wearing this for fun. Of course, I work there. And who knows? I guess you would have to ask to find out, I don’t keep up with the employment status of the place.” Seriously, who does this fuckin’ guy think he is?

Eijirou throws back his head and laughs, finding the coarse attitude of the stranger completely amusing. Most would’ve dropped it right there, said a regretless goodbye to the stranger and left. But Eijirou is determined, and he has a newfound goal, a mission you could say. He’s going to befriend the pissed stranger. Something about this guy just..drew him in. He wanted to get to know him.

Step 1: Find out where he’s working and apply for the same job. After all, he is a broke college student in need of money.

It isn’t that hard to track down the cafe after a bit of digging, to be honest. The uniform is a dead giveaway. It belongs to a popular place called “The Mug Shot”, and his friends are actually regular visitors there. He loves the joke in the name of the cafe and how the whole store follows that theme. Luckily enough, they happen to be hiring when he goes for a visit With a satisfied grin, Eijirou applies, and chuckles to himself knowing that the hot-headed blond will not be happy. At all.

It’s Thursday afternoon, and Katsuki has just finished his last class for the day, he contemplates the new assignment that the economics teacher has given to the class, going over different ideas he can use for his paper as he walks leisurely to the cafe. He doesn’t have to be there for another hour, but he likes to get there early so he doesn’t feel so goddamn rushed. It gives him time to sit and make a dent on his hellish amount of homework, maybe drink one of the specialty hot chocolates before his shift (they have this one made with chile infused chocolate, and it’s so fucking delicious).

Unfortunately, his pre-shift plans are ruined as soon as he arrives. Aizawa looks up as the front door chimes, seeing Katsuki walk in. The older man gestures him over. “Ah, Bakugou. Perfect,” Aizawa says when the blond reaches him. “I’m glad you’re here early today. We have a new employee, and I need you to walk him through some things before your shift starts.”

Katsuki grits his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ think so, isn’t that your job? My shift hasn’t even started yet.”

Aizawa is, predictably, completely unaffected by Katsuki’s refusal. “Some deliveries are scheduled to arrive in ten minutes, and as the owner and currently the only working manager, I have to oversee them. The rest of the staff are busy actually working. Logically, you’re the best one to ‘show him the ropes’, so to speak.” Aizawa jacks his thumb over his shoulder toward a corner table and continues, “He’s signing some paperwork in the office right now, but his stuff is over there, and when he comes out I need you to go over the rules, and what will be expected of him as an employee. You know the drill. When your shift officially starts, he will be shadowing you so at least try to play nice.” His boss doesn’t even give him a chance to reply, heading to the back of the store before he can get another word in edgewise.

Katsuki seethes in place at the injustice of it all. Of course, he’s gonna fuckin’ do it, but that doesn’t mean he’s gonna be happy about it. It’s probably another annoying teenager with a cracking voice and no concept of hard work that’ll just weigh him down, like they usually do. The last person he had had to train was Mina. She had been annoying as hell to deal with, but at least she’s competent. He can only hope he’ll be so lucky this time, but with how his day has gone so far, he doubts it. He gives the still vacant corner an irate glare, before stomping up to the register. His coworker, Todoroki, is there, taking a free moment between customers to clean the counter.

Seeing a scowling Katsuki stalk up to the counter, he asks, “The pre-shift usual?” The blond gives a terse nod, not looking at the other. Todoroki calls the order over to their other co-worker, Kendou, before turning back to Katsuki. “I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think, Bakugou. I met the guy earlier. He’s not so bad, and seems sincere enough.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Easy to say when you’re not the one training him.”

Shouto grabs the finished hot chocolate off of the counter and sighs as he hands it over. “Don’t be too hard on him just because you’re in a bad mood, Bakugou. It’s his first day.”

“Tch. I might be pissed off, but I can be professional when the time fuckin’ calls for it.” Shouto gives him a deadpan look, causing Katsuki to bristle angrily. “You trying to say something, half-n-half?!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Katsuki scowls and turns away from the man to go sit at the table Aizawa had indicated earlier. There’s a red messenger bag in one of the seats with plenty of pins stuck on. Katsuki does his best to ignore all the indications of another human as he drinks his hot chocolate. The guy isn’t here yet, and he’s going to enjoy his alone time while he still fuckin’ can.

When Eijirou finishes the paperwork, he makes a quick stop in the bathroom to go over his uniform one last time in the mirror, inhaling and exhaling slowly, a little nervous for his first day. He has his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strings of red hair falling carelessly into his face. The uniform feels comfortable over his tanned skin, and the tight top hugs his muscles. It’s a little too small, but who is he to complain? Eijirou struggles with the tie, looping it over and over in an attempt to knot it properly, to no avail. After a couple more minutes of struggling, the tie finally cooperates. Eijirou carefully pins on his badge, a black and white piece of plastic that reads his first and last name underneath jail bars. The design makes Eijirou laugh. Man, he loves this cafe.

As he makes his way out, he catches contact with his co-worker that he met briefly earlier , a two-tone haired man who looks somewhat exhausted. The man’s phone hangs in his hand lazily, and he blows a stray strand of hair off his face. Eijirou waves and flashes a grin, making his way over to the other man. “Yo! I just started working here! Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Kirishima.” He grins, holding out a hand. The young man, whose name badge reads Todoroki, takes it with a slight smile. Eijirou immediately beams and attempts conversation, to which Todoroki politely replies.

The veteran employee can tell Eijirou is excited—too damn excited. This is a cafe, people don’t usually treat it like a dream job for crying out loud. “So, do you know who’ll be your mentor?” Todoroki asks with a small, knowing smile.

“No, I don’t know yet but I’m sure we’ll get along great!” Eijirou replies, his weird excitement not ceasing. Todoroki lets out a slight chuckle, one that reeks of pity. Eijirou cocks an eyebrow, but dismisses whatever insinuation Todoroki is trying to make.

“Kirishima!” Aizawa calls, his face peering out from the kitchen where Eijirou can see a man carrying in boxes. His new boss appears completely uninterested, his hands hanging in his pockets. “Your shift is starting, hurry up.” Eijirou nods eagerly and holds up a hand in apology towards Todoroki. He sucks in a breath, attempting to calm his nerves and then returns his smile, making his way over to the table that holds his mentor.

Eijirou’s eyes go wide and he holds back a choked laugh as he catches sight of his new co-worker, mentor, and—most importantly—neighbor. Bakugou is sprawled across the seat, aggressively drinking from an enclosed coffee cup. Eijirou didn’t know that was even possible. The man’s familiar red eyes are narrowed, and the blond looks downright annoyed. Still cute, though.

“Bakugou! What a coincidence, mate!” Eijirou calls out, waving as he jogs toward the blond. This is so damn funny, Bakugou—who barely even wants to look at him—is now going to be his mentor! And on top of that, his co-worker! Kirishima’s chest turns and a blush dances across his cheeks. Seems like he’s going to get closer to Bakugou than he thought.

At the sound of his name being called, Katsuki turns to find the source of the voice, automatically glaring in response to the enthusiastic and overly familiar greeting. When he sees the redhead making his way to the table, it takes a moment for him to place the other. It’s the guy with the shitty hair a floor down. He’s hard to place with his hair no longer gelled up, but Katsuki could hardly forget that sharp smile. This is the person he is supposed to mentor? Seriously, could his day get any worse?

“What the fuck are you doing here? Stalking me?” Katsuki mutters, drilling holes in the opposite wall now so that he isn’t tempted to wince from the bright smile of his newest trainee. Of course, Katsuki knows what he’s doing here. The blond can put two and two together, but hell if he’ll take this lying down.

Eijirou ignores the comment and sits down next to the blond, his smile not ceasing even for a second. He’s excited to start his job here, but even more excited at the fact that it’s Bakugou who’s teaching him. The guy seems to always have an awful attitude, sure, but Eijirou feels there is more to him. Plus, a part of him really, really wants to get to know him more. Eijirou wonders what he’d look like if he wasn’t wearing that scowl, what his laugh would sound like. He looks strong, very strong, as well. Eijirou wants to get closer to him.

Even with his sour behaviour and fire-like temper, Bakugou is very attractive. The spiky blond hair that falls over his eyes when he turns his head down, the intense glare that emerges from his fire-filled eyes. The way his mouth stretches into a growl, causing his tan skin to flush an angry red. Eijirou finds that extremely attractive.

Eijirou then realises his gaze has been on the blond for a little too long and shakes his head, focusing his attention back on Bakugou’s words. “I’m not a stalker, Bakugou! I was just looking for a job and chose to work here.” Eijirou grins, wincing as he notices the way his heartbeat sped up from just looking at Bakugou.

Katsuki grunts. “Ya know, when I said ask for yourself I didn’t think you would actually fuckin’ do it, Shitty Hair.”

Eijirou drops his lip into a fake pout, his eyes twinkling. “I’m a man of many surprises. Come on! Are you seriously not looking forward to working with me?” The redhead replies, overdramatically painting his face in a ‘hurt’ expression.

“Honestly?” Katsuki asks. The red head nods expectantly. “Not particularly, if you’re as annoying as the rest of these shitheads. But I guess… as long as you work hard we’ll do okay.” Katsuki’s eyes narrow. “If you slack off and cause any fuckin’ problems, best believe you’ll be on your ass without a job before you can even say ‘sorry’, got it?”

“Got it!” Eijirou replies cheerfully, determined to make the time with the blond a good one. And if that means impressing him with the ability to make different variations of coffee, so be it.

“Good.” Katsuki slaps down a trainer’s handbook. “We’re going to go through this, and I’ll be telling you about the different jobs that you’ll be expected to do. If you do better on one thing than another, more than likely that’s what you’ll end up doing most of the time. But you have to try your hand at all of the jobs to get a feel for what will suit your dumbass the best. Besides, it’s better to know how to do everything in case you need to take over someone’s shift, or what-the-fuck-ever. So—”

Katsuki spends the next forty-five minutes or so walking Kirishima through the handbook, answering any questions he might have. Katsuki has to admit, Kirishima is much more attentive than he thought he would be.

“Alright, so that covers everything pretty damn well. If you need to know anything else, feel free to ask. My shift is about to start, so I have to change and shit. I’ll be right back, so why don’t you go ahead and introduce yourself to those new shithead co-workers of yours.”

The redhead reaches behind his back and tightens the knot in his apron, separating from Bakugou to head toward the counter. Eijirou is immediately greeted by the only two other employees , each waving him over with polite grins. The welcoming attitude of the two is a nice change from Bakugou, he has to admit.

Todoroki acknowledges him with a nod, and Eijirou nods back before the other one comes forward, a girl who introduces herself as Kendou. She is very friendly, and she seems like the most well put together out of the entire group. Her sunset orange hair is pulled up into a bun, and her warm green eyes are twinkling as she gives a small warning about Bakugou before wishing Eijirou luck.

Having finally met everyone, Eijirou returns to Bakugou— who has just returned from the back room, now dressed in his uniform—even more excited, if that’s even possible. He vows to follow each instruction that Bakugou gives with careful precision, to try to get the best possible outcome and overall experience from today.

“Oi, did they already get you started?” Katsuki turns to the others as he lightly prods the redhead away from them. Kirishima shakes his head in the negative. “Good. I don’t want them poaching my goddamn trainee,” he says with a glare.

Todoroki rolls his eyes. “What, do you think we would teach him wrong or something?” “Hah?! Maybe! At the very fucking least you might not teach him how to do it right. I won’t have my trainee learning subpar methods.” “You do realize that you trained most of us, right Bakugou?” Kendou points out in a reasonable tone.

“Yeah, I do! And I dunno what happened! You learned from the best, but I’m still the only piece of shit here that can make a decent cup of coffee!”

Todoroki sighs. “You don’t even drink coffee, Bakugou...:”

Katsuki’s nostrils flare. “Hah? What’s your point?!”

“His point is, how do you know what a good cup of coffee tastes like if you don’t like coffee?”

“I just fuckin’ do. It’s one of my many talents.”

Kendou smiles at him. “Sure, Bakugou. Whatever you say.” The worst goddamn part is that he can never tell when she’s being sarcastic or not.

Katsuki turns away, still fuming slightly to find Kirishima still watching from the sidelines. The blond can feel blood rush through his cheeks. He clears his throat roughly. “Anyway… I’ll show you how to make a goddamn proper cup of coffee.” Katsuki starts by taking over the orders, demonstrating to the newest employee how to use the machinery, how to break down the orders into steps, and how to use those steps to fill the order. In between sales, the blond walks Kirishima through some of the more complicated beverages in the guide, including seasonal specials that the cafe features during holidays. The redhead does exceedingly well, picking things up with ease and that dumbass smile on his face almost the whole time. Kirishima asks pertinent questions, moves confidently when Katsuki allows him to make his own attempts at the orders, and remains easy going and seemingly unflappable throughout—despite Katsuki’s gruff demeanor.

At the hour mark things in the shop pick up for a few minutes, and Kirishima begins looking a bit overwhelmed. When he flubs two drink orders in a row, Kirishima’s self doubt begins to shine through. Katsuki decides to give him a break. Pushing the guy any harder wouldn’t do either of them any good, and—while he hates to admit it—he’s impressed by his neighbor’s competency so far.

Usually, people applying here don’t last long. Aizawa may dodge as much work as he can, but he’s a taskmaster when it matters. He will fire someone in the blink of a fuckin’ eye if they aren’t up to snuff, no matter their work history. It’s one reason why Katsuki can never keep up with whether they’re hiring or not, new people are always coming and going. But, so far, Kirishima seems to tick all of Aizawa’s boxes. However, it’s only the guy’s first shift. Katsuki will have to keep watching to see if he keeps up this level of diligence in his work after his training is over.

“Go work with half-n-half for a while. He can get you started on the cash register, and when things slow down Kendou can show you how to do the sandwiches and shit. I’m gonna help our sleep deprived boss do the inventory. No, doubt he fell asleep on the goddamn boxes again…” Katsuki grumbles.

Eijirou turns his head up from his current project and nods, still beaming from the success of his first day.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” Katsuki turns away, wondering why stomach feels so fluttery as he makes his way to the back room.

He has done really well, and the work came fairly easily to him. Todoroki and Kendou are so open and friendly, and the conversations he has had with them so far flowed so well that within minutes he felt like he’d made friends with both of them. But to top that off, for every successful cup of coffee he made, Eijirou would notice Bakugou’s lips turn up into a smile. It was nice, his smile. And he wants to see it again, and again, and again.

Eijirou makes his way over to Todoroki, passing Kendou who is beside a coffee machine quietly preparing a skinny-flat white. He lifts his gaze and smiles when he sees Eijirou, grabbing the coffee from Kendou to hand to a waiting customer.

��So, I see you and Bakugou are getting along. You must really like being around him,” Todoroki comments. Eijirou feels his face flush. Is it that obvious? Eijirou looks up and catches Katsuki’s eye right as he is about to step into the kitchen, and his mouth stretches into a grin. He turns back to Todoroki, whose gaze flickers between the two then smiles.

The workers here are great. He got to meet Todoroki and Kendou, who both are so lovely. They make his time training with them the best it possibly could be. They love him, they compliment him, and Eijirou even hears them whisper how much the customers will love him and he feels his chest swell with pride.

When Katsuki returns from helping his boss (who had, in fact, been sleeping) he finds Kirishima beaming at the other two workers, who are both smiling back at him. Katsuki pauses where he is, watching their interactions. Both Kendou and Todoroki appear to have welcomed the man into their fold, leaving a bitter taste in Katsuki’s mouth. He supposes seeing Kirishima with the others is just a reminder that his newest trainee treats every goddamn person he meets with the same overly familiar friendliness—Katsuki isn’t special in that respect. He notes the way Kirishima casually slings an arm around Kendou’s shoulders, the blond’s eyes narrowing in thought as he observes.

After spending a few hours with the redhead one-on-one, he’s annoyed and intrigued all at once. Katsuki can feel the kindle of interest brewing in his chest, but he does his damnedest to stamp it out. He doesn’t need anything like that right now when he’s so close to finishing his degree. Not like it would last if he pursued it anyway. Katsuki clenches his fist, then releases it as he shoves himself off of the doorframe into the back and slips past Kendou (who has since turned back to the espresso machine) to speak to Kirishima.

“So, how did things go while I was in the back? Aizawa told me to let you know you can go home after you wipe down the open tables and sweep, and that after you’re done you need to go see him. He’ll show you how to clock out, and give you the rest of your training schedule,” he relays to the redhead.

Eijirou looks up from the coffee he’s making and grins as he sees Bakugou. He puts the cup down and stands up properly, devoting all of his attention back onto the blond. Eijirou’s smile widens, if that’s even possible.

“Things went well! The workers are really cool and I think I’m actually doing ok.” The redhead smiles, flashing his impressive array of teeth.

Eijirou makes his way over to the unoccupied tables he’d been instructed to clean, Bakugou following behind. Eijirou beams.

The two talk as Eijirou wipes down the tables, his hands moving in mindless circles, his attention solely on Bakugou. Katsuki can’t help but blush at the unwavering attention the younger man is giving him, he isn’t used to that kind of thing. At one point Kirishima continuously wipes the same table without moving as Katsuki talks about some of the quirks of the place.

Katsuki clears his throat. “Ah, you know you’ve been cleaning the same damn spot for like ten minutes?”

Eijirou looks down at his hand, still moving in circles in the same spot and snaps his hand up, leaving the rag to rub the back of his head and chuckle nervously. His face burns a deep red, and his heart beats a little faster, embarrassed.

“Well, I think the table is cleaner than it’s ever been, to be fucking honest,” the blond teases, smirking at his trainee. He has to admit, Kirishima is pretty cute when he’s flustered.

“You’re done here for the day, go ahead and get the rest of your schedule from the boss. If you can’t find him, look for a yellow sleeping bag under the desk, or maybe in the walk-in.”

“Yes… yes, I’ll do that now! Thanks for your help today, Bakugou.” Eijirou responds with a grin, getting up from the table.Eijirou waves a temporary goodbye to Bakugou, making his way over to Aizawa. He scans the office for the sleeping bag, before spotting it sprawled across the floor. With a slight chuckle, Eijirou turns the obnoxious yellow bag over, his boss fast asleep inside. Mr. Aizawa immediately opens his eyes and lets out an annoyed groan. “G-good afternoon, Mr. Aizawa. I’m just looking for my schedule.” Eijirou says gently as his boss sits himself up the best he can in the bag.

“Yes, your schedule..it’s..it’s on the desk, near the paperclips,” Aizawa instructs drowsily. “There are instructions for how to clock out, too.” Eijirou nods and fetches the schedule, leaving the room quietly.

Eijirou’s day went surprisingly smoother than expected, the jobs he was given were fairly easy—small cleaning tasks he did while chatting to one of the other employees, he learned how to make different variations of coffee, preparing the food the cafe offered, and getting a feel of the cafe in general.

Before Eijirou leaves the cafe, he quickly stops by to see Katsuki, who has now taken over the register for Todoroki. Eijirou rubs the back of his neck—a natural habit when he’s nervous—as he thinks of what to say before he goes. Kirishima was able to keep his cool when working, the other workers and general tasks distracting him. But being here one-on-one with Bakugou , Kirishima’s heart is racing with nerves. Bakugou seems to do that to him, make him more anxious, make him consider his words more carefully in order to make a good impression on the blond.

“Hey, Bakugou. I’ve, uh, I’ve finished my shift for today… and I’ll be heading home now.” Eijirou starts slowly, placing his words carefully. Awkwardly. Damn it. “It was nice today, thank you for teaching me...hopefully I’ll see you round at the apartments.”

Katsuki straightens up from where he was leaning on the front counter, his face flushing with color. “I was just doing my fuckin’ job, dont look too much into it…” he says as he looks away, embarrassed at Kirishima’s earnest thanks. “Yeah, I’ll probably see you around. When do you work next?” Katsuki carefully avoids saying anything about their apartments. He may work with the guy, and maybe he finds the redhead attractive, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let him wedge his way into Katsuki’s life so easily.

“Yeah, I’m working around noon tomorrow. I think that’s what it said on my schedule.” Eijirou replies, nodding. Apparently, some other workers he hadn’t met before are going to be working then as well. He only heard the name Mina so far, though.

The blond huffs. “Well, I’ll be seeing you sooner than I thought. I have the opening shift, but I don’t get off until two. No doubt that fucker Aizawa wants me train you further when you come in.”

Eijirou’s eyes widen before his mouth melts into a smile. “Really? Sweet! I’m looking forward to it.” Eijirou beams, placing one hand in his pocket.

“Yeah, see you then, shithead,” Katsuki says, shifting awkwardly in front of the redhead. He’s not familiar with having this kind of tension with another person, and he can’t really say that he’s enjoying it. Still, it’ll be interesting to see where things go from here, even if Katsuki fights it tooth and nail along the way.

And with the day ended, Eijirou makes his way out of the cafe and back to his apartment, Bakugou still on his mind despite leaving. He’s still slightly uneasy, butterflies going mad within his stomach and heart fluttering. The sky is painted in a colourful hue, and his surroundings seem a little brighter. Despite being nervous around the blond, today was a good day. The employees are helpful, professional. He spent time with Bakugou. He seemed to be doing well at the job, so far. All-in-all, it was a good day.

[5hfanfiction]

Sixth Sense

The group consisting of five: Camila, Lauren, Dinah, Normani & Ally decided to book at the creepiest place while they were travelling. Well, not that it was their choice. They mainly just couldn’t agree on which hotel, room or cabin to rent until when they went to a decision all of their choices were either already fully booked or only had slots for three people left.

It made Camila feel uneasy the most. Basically since out of all the five of them, she was the one who would hide under the blanket whenever they would watch a horror movie during their movie nights and would spend the following days sleeping with the lights on or avoiding places that ghosts appeared on in some of the scenes.

“Don’t worry, Walz. You can just cuddle up to Lauser here whenever you’d get scared. She a brave one.” Dinah, one hand on the steering wheel, the other pointing to Lauren who was sat behind her, suggested, with a disapproving Mani on the passenger seat, who swatted her arm away upon hearing her.

Camila, of course, didn’t reply while Lauren subtly looked at the rearview mirror to see how her girlfriend would react.

“Let’s not think about that right now. And I’m sure we can always pray and everything will be alright.” Ally, who was kind enough to be the mediator to the two quarelling girlfriends decided to seat between them to somehow reduce the tension, advised, always the one with the most faith out of all of them.

“True that.” Dinah seconded, nodding. Mani, on the other hand, smiled her trademark smile that looked like a smirk because she was not sure if the Polynesian was really sincere she agreed with Ally or was just playing with their friend.

A little later, the song on the radio changed to one of their group’s favorite songs and Ally excitedly ordered Dinah to turn up the volume to which the blonde easily obliged.

Well, I had me a boy, turned him into a man I showed him all the things that he didn’t understand Whoa, and then I let him go

Ally led their sing along, perfectly synchronizing the tone of her voice with the song.

Mani and Dinah joined her by the second stanza, and Camila, no matter how she tried to be consistent with her resolution yesterday that she’d not join in on anything that would seem like she wanted to forget her squabble with Lauren and just forgive her, also sang along starting with the pre chorus. By the time the chorus came, all five of them, including Lauren, were already singing their hearts out.

Ex’s and the oh, oh, oh’s they haunt me Like gho-o-osts they want me to make ‘em all They won’t let go Ex’s and oh’s

“I told y'all we should have just went with the basement room of that other hotel.” Dinah, one hand holding her bag stood still infront of the building when they arrived, looking not as brave as she was on the way there. Camila, who was standing beside her was biting the tip of her thumb, already nervous.

“Hey, guys, that song in the car. That gho-o-osts they want me. What if that was some kind of sign?” The smallest of them blurted out her thoughts.

“Ally!!!” Camila, Dinah, and Mani immediately cried in unison.

“Come on. Either we go in there or sleep in the car. We still have a long drive tomorrow so I doubt you want to be cramped inside that small box of a vehicle.” Lauren, true to what Dinah described her earlier, walked ahead of them and entered the building first. The rest of the girls looked at each other first before following their raven-haired friend.

On their floor, Mani and Dinah quickly occupied the room for two that they reserved, which left Ally, Camila, and Lauren no choice but to take the other one. The three discovered, to Camila’s dismay, that there were only two beds available, one king-sized and one solo. Thankfully, Ally made the initiative to walk to the king-sized, placing her bag at the foot of it and Camila followed. Lauren, since it was obvious, occupied her bed on the other side.

When they had all their stuff settled, they came down to the hotel’s restaurant to get dinner. As if there was an unspoken rule to not let the girlfriends sit beside each other, Ally sat beside Camila while Mani and Dinah followed Lauren on the other side of the table.

The girls each checked the menu and to Camila’s pleasure, despite the hotel’s scary reputation, they still had the good sense to put pizza on their carte.

Other hotel guests were also present in the restaurant and so far everything felt at peace to the girls. Before the beautiful waitress came walking to get their orders, that is.

“Good evening, beautiful ladies. May I have your order?” The attractive blonde with blue eyes asked pleasantly with a disarming smile. Camila was taken with her approach that after Ally, Dinah, and Mani had ran down their choices, she gave hers with an equally pleasant smile. But when it was Lauren’s turn and suddenly the waitress’ smile became brighter, Camila’s expression turned into a frown.

“How about you, hottie?” The blonde faced toward Lauren. Camila wasn’t sure if Lauren was really oblivious or was just trying to be dense but she didn’t like it that instead of simply giving her orders, Lauren asked more questions regarding their dishes, which seemed to Camila like she was prolonging the conversation.

“Is that all? I can list all the extra quirks you like for your food and tell the kitchen folks to do them for you.” The waitress persisted. Good thing Lauren declined with a simple, “No, that’s all. Thanks anyway.”

When the waitress left, Camila decided to let her thoughts slide and just focus on the conversation that was going on between Ally, Dinah, and Normani.

“We should reach Georgia by tomorrow and there we can stop at some good spots. Take some pictures, eat, anything.” Camila heard Dinah tell the other two.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been on a roadtrip this long and I feel giddy just thinking about the things we can do.” Ally added cheerfully.

They went on for the next few minutes, Camila and Lauren alternately joining un, discussing some possible locations they could visit while Mani typed them down on her phone for reference.

When the beautiful blonde came back with their food, though, Camila went back to her sore demeanor earlier.

“And here’s for the one with the most beautiful eyes here tonight.” The waitress complimented Lauren as she was serving the green-eyed girl’s food, having finished with the four other girls’ first. This time, Camila saw Lauren got the hint as she saw her cheeks turned red.

“Are you usually that generous with compliments for your guests?” Camila couldn’t help it and asked the blonde, tone laced with undisguised venom. “If you are, why not turn that generosity into food so maybe we’d have real use for it. Great idea, huh?”

Camila saw Lauren frown in her peripheral but decided to ignore it and just continued glaring at the blonde until the poor one averted her eyes and excused herself meekly.

“What was that for?” For the first time that day, Lauren spoke directly to Camila and also for the first time, Camila acknowledged her.

“She was obviously flirting with you and I had the compassion to save you from an unnecessary situation.” Camila said, looking to Lauren’s eyes.

“You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“Well, she wouldn’t let up and it’s not like you were doing anything to stop her either.”

Lauren huffed out an incredulous breath at what she heard her girlfriend say. “I was being polite.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what you always say.”

Suddenly a realization hit Lauren. “Is that why you were not talking to me? You’re jealous again?”

“No! I was not talking to you because you managed to come late at our monthsary date even if I reminded you days ago.”

All patience Lauren had been holding the past few days left her and she replied angrily. “God, Camila. I was busy reviewing for finals and shit and I didn’t forget. I was too tired so I fell asleep and woke up late. I did not do it on purpose.”

Instead of replying, Camila just stood up from the table while mumbling, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

The four girls watched as Camila walked out through the entrance, a mixture of concern, sadness, and regret within them.

They did not see, though, when Camila went back a few minutes later and sat at a table away from them, a look of uncertainty and dread on her face, until they were finished eating amd were heading back to their rooms.

The next few hours went relatively peaceful, with no more further spats between the brunette and the raven-haired girl. Actually, as they were already in their respective rooms, Camila became silent. The two didn’t pay much attention to it and attributed it to her foul mood.

By 11PM, as what Camila’s wristwatch told her, she was still wide awake. She could hear Ally’s even breathing beside her so she knew she was already asleep. Lauren was laid facing away from her, making no movement so Camila concluded she was most likely asleep as well. Camila kind of envied them in that moment because she was not even close to feeling sleepy, the guilt over her outburst in the restaurant nagging at her and the take-out food Lauren brought for her was staring at her on top of the bedside table. That and the fact that all rumors she heard about this hotel, of ghost sightings and eery history was keeping her imagination running amock. Not once had she sworn she saw a shadow move at the corner of the room but when she turned to look there was nothing there.

She managed to ignore that but then a few minutes later, she heard a door creaking, the sound sounding much like those in the horror movies, with scrapy, lingering sound like the door hadn’t been used in a very long time. She could easily disregard that as someone who just came inside their room but when that continued happening every minute, no sound of footsteps following them, she became paranoid.

What was that? Could that be Mani and Dinah fooling around with each other, feeling insomniac like her as well? She dismissed the thoughts rightaway for she read their messages at their group chat wishing them all a good night’s sleep and telling them they were already going to bed.

Not long after, but most definitely felt like hours to the brunette, she heard footsteps walking back and forth infront of their room, and the faucet going in their bathroom going off on its own, Camila admitted she was scared.

She fidgeted in her spot, tossing amd turning, not sure how she’d be able to relax given the circumstances let alone sleep while her roommates are still fast asleep. Thirty minutes more passed when she decided her peace of mind was more important than her pride, she stood up and walked to the other side of the room.

She felt the bed dip as she sat on it, her girlfriend’s body dipping as well with the weight so she moved carefully as she laid down beside her before wrapping her right arm around Lauren and hiding her face behind her back.

“Camz?” Lauren’s raspy voice broke the silence.

“I’m scared, Lo. The faucet, door creaking and footsteps. There are ghosts here.”

Lauren turned around to face her, one hand caressing Camila’s cheek. She seemed to be taking in the sounds of their surroundings before she stood up and went inside their bathroom.

The fear that left Camila shortly when she was beside Lauren immediately came back but Lauren was quick to return so she didn’t have to dwell on it for long.

“That faucet’s ours, I think it’s broken. But, Camz, I didn’t hear the door and the footsteps.”

“But you were asleep,” Camila replied, looking to her girlfriend’s eyes that had the power to take away her fear with just one look.

“I was not. I - I couldn’t sleep either.” Lauren admitted.

Upon hearing that, Camila’s guilt from earlier came back. “I’m sorry. I was being irrational and I got really jealous.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that.” Lauren silenced Camila’s apology with one finger over her mouth. “It’s okay, babe. I’m sorry, too.”

Camila gave Lauren a sweet kiss on her lips before snuggling up to her chest, feeling a lot lighter and less scared. Soon enough, she noticed she hadn’t heard the eery sounds again and she fell in a deep slumber.

Needless to say, they had a new seating position the following day. It was Mani’s turn behind the wheel and Dinah sat in the passenger seat. Lauren was still behind the driver but this time, Camila was cuddled beside her, while Ally was beside the brunette.

Dinah, being her usual dorky self was muttering absurd jokes that made them either cringe or laugh, which Camila reacted by nuzzling her face on Lauren’s shoulder. It was during one of those times while Dinah was looking at the raven-haired girl that Lauren mouthed a silent, “Thank you.” To which the Polynesian replied with a soundless “You’re welcome, Lauser.”

***

A/N: I hope you all got that. 😊

I had this idea because my friends and I are going to this place in two weeks and we still haven’t booked a room to stay at so I jokingly suggested this haunted place. All purely a joke because I’m like Camila in this fic in all things ghost related and would NEVER willingly go anywhere with real ones.

As always, thanks for reading. Love you all!!

wattpad: litaddict02

-PAT

[anavoliselenu]

Grounded chapter 8

“In the near future,” he continued relentlessly. “Say the next days and weeks, you will most likely be given an option for a voluntary furlough, and if that fails to yield enough willing candidates, an involuntary one. The airline will be cutting costs and staffing. Any routes that aren’t profitable will be aborted within the next month. Any other questions?”

I felt deflated by his revelations, though I didn’t doubt for a second that he knew what he was talking about. “Did you know all along that this was going to happen?”

“Yes,” he said with no hesitation. “It was all only a countdown. The airline has been hemorrhaging money from the start. This is the era of discount fares, and your airline was a start-up luxury carrier. Everyone in the industry is just surprised that it lasted this long. Have you given any more thought to your painting career? Just say the word, and I’ll have my people prepare your showing.”

I thought that was rather callous of him. Of the two of us, I’d thought I had the monopoly on being insensitive.

“I have not,” I told him, my voice stiff. “I haven’t had time to process any of this.”

There was a long pause on the other end. “Well, I will leave you to it then. I need to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Cavendish,” I said coldly, wondering at his mood. When I had called him, I hadn’t expected to talk to this callous man.

“Goodbye, Selena.”

I hung up, feeling a little stung at his cold manner. Was my hesitation about showing my paintings really bothering him this much? Or was it something else? Whatever was going on with Roger, perhaps?

I knew speculating was pointless, so I got to work. It bothered me persistently, though. Not knowing the cause for his distant demeanor left my mind free to run wild with possibilities and paranoid fears, each one more alarming than the last.

I tried my hardest to distract myself for the duration of the flight. It was at least full, my bodyguards in each cabin included, of course. Even full, though, I was left with nothing to do by halfway into the flight.

Damien and Murphy had been uncharacteristically quiet for the pre-board procedures and the flight. I knew they must be upset about the bad news. If they started at another airline, they likely wouldn’t get to work together for years. Damien would probably be demoted to the first officer position, making it impossible for them to work the same flights. Even after he made captain again, it would take time for them to get enough seniority to get regular routes, let alone routes together. I was sad for them. They made such a fun team.

I visited with them in the flight deck for a while. They still joked nonstop and went to great efforts to charm me, but I sensed an undercurrent of tension in the two men.

This was what upset me most about the collapse of the airline. It wasn’t so much my future that I feared for. I liked my job, and I was grateful for the opportunities it had given me, but I was a survivor. Even without Justin, I would find another way to get by. But the people who had put all of their hopes into the airline for four and a half years, the ones who would be most affected by it, that’s what got me. Businessmen played with their monopoly money while the rest of us rolled with the punches. It made me angry. Of course, there was nothing to do for any of it, so it was a futile kind of anger.

I had a long talk with Stephan on the flight about the expected voluntary furlough. I had made a quick but tough decision about it. I broached the subject with trepidation, but as usual, Stephan only responded with his unconditional support.

He just cupped my shoulders in his big gentle hands, giving me his best smile. “I think that makes perfect sense, Selena. You were dreading telling me, weren’t you?”

I nodded.

He kissed my forehead. “You should know better,” he scolded softly.

He was right. God, I loved him. How did I get so lucky?

I was tired and exhausted by the time we got to New York, my mind running me ragged with all of the imminent changes in my life. Just when I made one huge change, didn’t it just figure that it would all have to start changing?

I wasn’t sure what the plan was when we walked as a crew out to the pickup spot. Justin, or rather, Cold Mr. Cavendish, hadn’t said. I figured if he sent a car, I’d take it, if not, I’d go to the hotel with the crew.

He had sent a car. In fact, he’d sent himself, I realized as he met me at the door, taking my bag and my arm without a word. His face was a beautiful mask, his eyes a little blank.

Justin nodded stiffly at Stephan. Stephan had to stay with the crew for the hotel check-in, so he kissed me on the forehead and said goodbye.

I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to anyone else since Justin was leading me away as soon as he had Stephan’s assumed blessing.

He handed my bags off to Clark, handing me into the car swiftly. My security detail filed into the car mere moments after Justin and I were settled. They’d been my silent shadow for the duration of my commute and workday.

“Bodyguards are unnecessary when I’m working, Justin,” I told him, my voice pitched low to keep the conversation private. “I’m quite safe at work.”

He looked at me. It was the first direct look he’d given me since he’d met me at the door. His face was as unreadable as I’d ever seen it. “I find it very necessary,” he said shortly.

He looked out the window.

I hated his mood, hated his distance, but it still made me want to cling to him. I knew how unhealthy that urge was, and I tried my best to squelch it. Still, I found my hand seeking his knee, rubbing it comfortingly.

It did not have the intended effect. His hand covered mine instantly, pushing it hard into his leg. I couldn’t have pulled it away if I’d tried.

“You in the mood to be pinned to the seat and f**ked with an audience, Love?” he said, his voice soft with danger.

I tried to snatch my hand away, but he held it fast. I didn’t answer the ridiculous question, and he didn’t say another word, looking out the window, a storm in his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” I finally asked him quietly.

He squeezed my hand, his jaw working. “Bear with me, Selena. I am going through some rather trying legal issues, and letting you leave me every week tests every last ounce of my self-control.”

I was silent for a long time, debating if I should tell him about my decision. It seemed rather like rewarding his bad behavior just then, but I had already made up my mind. It just made sense, as much as I hadn’t wanted it to.

The voluntary furlough for flight attendants had already been announced. I’d received the email as we were taxiing into JFK. I had the seniority to keep working even if there weren’t enough people to sign up for the voluntary furlough and it became involuntary, but I saw that as such a selfish thing. I didn’t need the job, not as much as so many others did. Perhaps there had only ever been this solution, and the bankruptcy was just forcing my hand more quickly. I suspected that might be the case, but it didn’t really matter anymore.

“I’ll be taking the voluntary furlough,” I told him.

I saw his hand shake with a fine tremor. He didn’t look at me. I understood that he didn’t appreciate that we weren’t alone just then.

“Thank you,” he said very quietly, in an unsteady voice.

“I’m doing it because I feel ridiculous having more money spent to protect me at work than what I’m actually making. And because there are people that need the job more than I do,” I told him, my tone hard. This was not because of his tantrum. “And I would like to begin planning the gallery showing.”

He nodded, head still turned away. “Of course. Thank you. I’ll set up a meeting for you with Danika when we’re in Vegas. She manages both my L.A. and Las Vegas galleries. She went to bat against my New York team to get your work in her gallery. She’s quite a fan.”

I had a hard time believing that. The idea of having fans was too far-fetched of a concept for me to grasp easily.

We arrived at our place via the underground garage, and Justin walked me into the apartment and up to our room.

He watched me from the doorway of the closet as I got undressed for my nap.

“I can’t linger. I really do need to get back to the hotel, since I’ll be heading back to Las Vegas with you tomorrow.”

I just nodded, half undressed, my back to him. I felt him watching me for long minutes before he left.

I got ready for bed and lay down to sleep, but it eluded me for a long time. The way Justin was acting filled me with tension and anxiety. I tried to tell myself that he was just a moody and unpredictable man. That was one of the first things I’d learned about him. But I just knew, deep down in my gut, that it was something bad, something that he felt threatened him, or perhaps threatened us. He had told Roger to offer his entire fortune to protect from the mysterious threat, and I knew that he wouldn’t use those words lightly.

My phone woke me, and even as I answered it, I knew I’d overslept. I had that groggy feeling that I only got when I took too long of a nap.

“Buttercup, you coming out with us tonight?” Stephan asked.

I blinked awake. “Who is us? And where are you going?”

“The crew is going to Red with the other two crews that are here on a layover. They are driving into the city from the airport hotels. A few extra people are coming into town, as well. I talked Javier, Jessa, Marnie, and Judith into flying in for the night. Our morning flight has like thirty open seats, so they’ll have no problem flying home with us. It’s turned into a kind of bankruptcy party. I talked to Justin. He said that people could crash at your place, and at his hotel. He’s even setting up a VIP section at Red for us. He was supposed to tell you about it, but I guess you were sleeping.”

I had to smile a little at Stephan turning a bankruptcy into a party, but hell, why not?

“We all have to get up so early in the morning,” I told him. It wouldn’t do at all to have a bunch of no-shows in the morning.

“It’s fine. It’s not like we do this often. Everyone just really needs to blow off steam.”

I well understood. I felt the same urge. “What time do I need to be there?”

He laughed. “In an hour. Get a move on, Buttercup!”

I did, showering, blow-drying my hair, and getting my makeup on in record time. There was a food tray set just inside my bedroom door when I came out of the bathroom.

I ate the turkey burger on wheat quickly, impressed with Marion’s efficiency. It was good, stacked with fresh vegetables, a spicy guacamole sauce giving it flavor. Either I was getting used to the fanatically healthy menu, or Marion was especially talented at making healthy taste good.

I cleared my plate in minutes, rushing to get ready.

I wore red. It seemed appropriate for the venue, and I loved the little dress. It draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, and the way it hung flattered my figure. It set off my collar just right, and I found the diamond cuffs on my jewelry vanity, which went perfectly. I wore diamond hoops in my ears as well, which may have been overkill, but why not? I had a whole team of bodyguards to keep me from getting robbed.

Jackie’s system pointed me in the direction of some nude heels with a red sole. These ones came with a note.

This dress needs stilettos. Please, I am begging you to change your mind on the wedge stance.

Jackie

The note made me laugh. I was almost beginning to enjoy tormenting that strange woman. I knew some fashionistas, but she took it to a whole new level. The idea that she had chosen every outfit, shoe, and bag so carefully, and then apparently left notes on some of them, just cracked me up.

I took the little yellow note to the bag closet and grabbed the tiny nude clutch with the matching number. At least it had a long strap.

I sent out a few texts before I went downstairs. The first one went to Justin.

Selena: I’m going to Red for Stephan’s party. Will I see you there?

He responded quickly but shortly.

Justin: You will.

Cryptic man.

The second text went to the security contact on my phone. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was, but I’d prefer to keep them informed of my actions, as opposed to having them just wait for me at all hours.

Selena: I’m going out. Heading downstairs now.

The response came back in under a minute.

Security: Roger that.

I thought that was an odd text response, but I just went downstairs.

Blake was waiting for me, wearing a black suit and looking as severe as always. I nodded at her.

She nodded back. “The others are waiting for us downstairs, Ms. Karlsson.”

We got into the elevator.

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I told her. It was worth at least one try.

She looked startled. “Of course, Mrs. Cavendish.”

I slapped a hand to my forehead. Literally. “Don’t call me that. Call me Selena.”

“That’s against my orders, Mrs. Cavendish.”

Hand to the forehead. Again. “Okay. Call me Ms. Karlsson, then, please.”

“Of course, Ms. Karlsson.”

I wouldn’t be trying that again. I had most definitely learned my lesson.

I was flanked by the rest of my security the second we stepped into the lobby of the swank building. I had the surreal realization as we walked through that lobby that all of the rich people were watching me, as though I was a person of note. I supposed having a team of bodyguards would do that for anyone.

Johnny walked slightly in front of me and to my left. He shot me a rather familiar glance over his shoulder, very obviously eying up my legs.

I blinked slowly, a little shocked that Justin wasn’t just being crazy possessive about the Johnny issue. That had definitely been a look, and he couldn’t be guarding me that well if he was that distracted.

“Looking hot, Ms. Karlsson,” he said under his breath, reaffirming my opinion.

And the point goes to Crazy Cavendish, I thought.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mr. Controlling

Blake and Williams rode in the passenger cab of the limo with me, Johnny and Henry up front. It was a very short drive. I got the VIP treatment from the car to the club, being ushered in without a soul even trying to make eye contact with me. I even got a little perfunctory bow from the bouncer. Being the owner’s girlfriend had some bizarre little perks.

I was led to a VIP section that was already packed with familiar faces. The party was well under way. A loud shout went out from the crowd when they spotted me.

I had to smile. “You guys been at it for that long already?” I asked as Marnie and Judith rushed me, nearly spilling their red martinis in the process. I got side hugs on account of their drinks.

Jessa was right on their heels.

We all laughed as we realized that we were all wearing different shades of red.

“I heard the name of the place, and it just seemed like a good idea,” Jessa said, laughing. She swept a hand down her red halter dress as she spoke. She had a spectacular figure, with long legs, a small waist, and high br**sts.

Judith was wearing a red mini skirt with a white off the shoulder top, Marnie a black skirt with a red ruffled blouse. They had planned it, of course, and wore matching red heels.

“This place is luxe. Can’t believe we got VIP here without having to blow anybody!” Marnie shouted over the noise. She came off a little louder than I think she intended, because she got several looks from the various crews for that one.

One of those looks was from Jessa. “Really, Marnie? Do you always have to go there?” she asked, laughing.

Marnie shrugged, her cute nose wrinkling. “I never said I was a classy chick. Far from it. Judith is the classy one in our duo.”

Judith raised her brows. “Now how damn sad is that?”

I felt a hard chest press against my back, but I didn’t stiffen or draw away. I knew the height and feel of that chest just perfectly. It used to sleep against my back when we’d huddled together for comfort, safety, and warmth.

Stephan wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. “Glad you came, Selena. It’s never the same without you.”

I smiled, turning my head to look at him. “I feel the same, Steph.”

As though reading my mind, he bent so I could kiss his cheek.

“Where’s Javier?” I asked as he pulled back, looking around for the other man.

“Bathroom,” he said, moving away. He had to do some mingling, I knew. That was just how he operated.

“I heard about the drama with Vance last night,” Jessa said after he walked away. “Rumor is he and Javier were making out in a bathroom…”

I grimaced. “I’m not surprised that’s the rumor. Javier’s side is different. He says that Vance pushed him against the wall and started kissing him. According to Javier, Vance just pushes him around like that to try to get a reaction, and Javier didn’t push him away because he’s learned that the best way to deal with Vance is not to react.”

Jessa nodded, pursing her lips. “I’ve seen Vance do that. He’s still crazy stupid in love with Javier. He’s been pushing him around like that for years. Vance needs to move on.” She shot a strangely malevolent look Damien’s way. “Kind of like a certain stubborn pilot I know…”

I shot a look at Damien myself. Jessa definitely had a point there.

“I believe Javier,” Judith said loudly. “I’ve seen how Vance treats him. He does crazy shit just hoping to make Javier snap.”

“I’ve seen it, too. He wouldn’t stop touching him at a party last year, even though Javier was clearly telling him to back off. Finally Javier slapped him across the face, and I’d swear that made Vance happy, from the look on his face when it happened.”

I felt a wave of relief at their reaffirmation. I really did want to believe Javier’s side of it. Wanting and believing were just two different things, unfortunately. Still, their words gave me hope that Javier wasn’t just playing the drama game with Stephan, which was my biggest fear.

“I wouldn’t mind getting slapped by Javier. He’s f**king hot,” Marnie said.

That surprised a laugh out of all of us. Of course she went there.

Damien approached our group, Murphy in tow. He looked a little weary as he eyed up our laughing group. “Why do my ears always burn when I see you all laughing like that?” he asked.

Marnie held up her hands, as though showing a good ten-inch measurement. “Don’t worry, babe, it’s all flattering.”

Damien rubbed his temples, looking pained.

Murphy nodded, rubbing his chin and looking impressed. “I knew it!” he said.

I couldn’t help it that made me laugh harder.

“Yeah, he has a big dick, but him running away after the sex kind of cancels that one out for me, personally,” Jessa said wryly.

I was shocked. I hadn’t known that Jessa and Damien had hooked up. Jessa never did the casual hook-up thing. Or so I’d thought.

Marnie held up her hands, making a rather large circle with her fingers, clearly illustrating girth. “This right here is what makes up for the running away part.”

Murphy cursed loudly. “I f**king knew it!”

Marnie broke down in adorable giggles, clutching her stomach. Judith was right there with her. They high-fived.

I felt a little sorry for Damien, since he looked like he was in real pain, but I still couldn’t stop laughing.

Stephan walked up to us, shaking his head and smiling. “Poor Damien. What did he ever do to deserve such relentless teasing?”

Marnie answered, of course. “He f**ked too many of us, and he was too good at it, that’s what.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jessa said. “There was nothing too good about my experience. Size isn’t everything.”

“Ooouuch,” Murphy said, drawing out the sound. “Buuurrn.”

Jessa shrugged. “Not a burn. Just stating facts.”

“Brutal,” Murphy said.

I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned to find Javier just behind me. He looked a little nervous as he bent to my ear.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.

I studied him, wondering what was going on now, but I just nodded. “Sure. Where to?”

I followed him to an empty section along the bar that attached to our VIP section. The bartender approached us instantly.

“I’m fine,” I told him.

“I’ll take another of your house specials,” Javier said.

I studied him. He looked a little glassy-eyed. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Javier drunk before, but I suspected that I might be seeing it now.

I sat in one of the cushioned stools at the bar.

He didn’t sit, but moved close to me, leaning in to talk in a low voice. “I know you’re worried about Stephan being with me. You think I’m not good enough for him. You think I’m trouble.”

I opened my mouth to protest, even though most of what he said was somewhat true, but he continued in a rush. “I get it. I’m not trying to argue with you. I just wanted to clear some things up.”

I nodded at him to go on.

“You don’t have to worry about me hurting him, Selena. If anyone is going to get hurt here, it will be me. I haven’t even gone out with a guy since he dumped me. And that was, what, over a year and a half ago? I pined for him, Selena. I know he’s too good for me. I know he’s too good for anyone. Every guy I know has a crush on him. He’s damn near perfect. And I am bat-shit crazy in love with him. I thank God every day that he stays with me. I wouldn’t mess this up for anything.”

I felt a relief at his words that threatened to floor me. But there were still some things that he needed to clear up…

“What about the Vance nonsense? If he’s been so awful to you, why on earth would you still be hanging out with him?”

He winced. “He wrote me a very long, drawn-out letter, talked about squashing our beef and moving on. For once, he sounded really sincere about it, and he and I were friends before we were a couple. He was a good friend, just a horrible boyfriend, and a worse ex. His letter had me thinking that we could go back to being casual friends. I wanted that, because so many of the guys on his crew are friends of mine, and I’d like for it to be less awkward every time he and I are in the same room. It’s been so long since we were together. I just don’t understand why he hasn’t gotten over it. Thinking that he finally had was just something I wanted to believe, I guess. It won’t ever happen again. I’m so done with him.”

I nodded. That seemed for the best. I only hoped he meant it.

It was like he read my mind. “I know you won’t trust me right away. That’s just not how you work. But I hope that you will eventually. I intend to prove myself. This is it for me, Selena. Stephan is the real deal, and if he wants me, I’m sticking around.”

He moved into me, wrapping his arms around me tightly. It should have been awkward, since I was sitting and he was standing, but somehow we fit just right. I hugged him back.

“I hope so, Javier. You know, the first time you guys went out he came home with this dreamy look on his face. He was so happy. I know you think I haven’t been a fan of yours, but I became a fan that night. There’s nothing I’d love more than for Stephan to be with someone that makes him that happy. And you shouldn’t downplay his feelings for you. He pined for you too, Javier. I know a lot of guys have a crush on him, but you’re the only one he sees. Trust me on that. And I’ll be eternally grateful to you for helping him to see that he doesn’t need to hide who he is anymore, or who he’s with.”

He squeezed me tighter. I hugged him back.

Javier laughed. “Look at Stephan,” he said. “Us hugging has made his day.”

I pulled back to look.

Stephan was across the lounge, standing next to Jessa, grinning at us like he’d just been granted a wish.

Javier toasted him with the dark red martini that the bartender had left for him on the bar while we’d been talking.

“That looks tasty,” I told him, pointing at his drink.

His brows lifted. “Want me to order you one?”

I shook my head. “Alcohol doesn’t really agree with me. I don’t seem to have a spot between dead sober and crazy drunk.”

He held the glass out to me. “Just taste it. It’s a black raspberry martini. It’s Red’s signature cocktail. It’s my new favorite drink.”

I took the glass from him, sniffing it. It smelled good. “What’s in it?” I asked, taking a very tiny sip, and, tasting it, a slightly bigger one.

“Chambord, raspberry vodka, and blood orange juice.”

“It tastes awesome. What’s Chambord?”

“Raspberry liqueur. To die for, right? Best tasting drink ever.”

I nodded. “So good.”

I felt a hard body press against me from behind, and I stiffened. I handed Javier his drink.

“How many of those have you had?” Justin purred in my ear. He dug a hand into my hair, gripping a tight handful of it into a fist. His other arm snaked around my waist from behind, gripping a hip in his hand.

His tone was silky smooth, but I still heard the menace in it.

“None,” I told him calmly. “Javier just let me have a taste of his.”

“Are you going to drink tonight?” he demanded.

I hadn’t been planning on it, but his tone and his attitude almost had me changing my mind.

“I hadn’t been planning on it,” I said finally.

“That’s good,” he said, smooth as silk. “You know I don’t care for alcohol. And I won’t f**k you mindless when you’ve been drinking.”

My eyes shot to Javier. Justin hadn’t bothered to lower his voice, but the other man hadn’t seemed to notice.

Justin turned me in his arms, his hold unbreakable. He tilted my chin up until I had a clear look at his tarnished eyes. “Tell me something,” he began in that silky tone. “Is it romantic or psychotic when I say that I’ll never let you leave me?”

I studied him. I just couldn’t tell if there was even a hint of humor to his words when he was in this mood. “I suppose that would depend on whether I’m trying to leave you or not. If I never tried, it’s romantic, and if I ever did, and you didn’t let me, definitely psychotic. Why are you trying to scare me, Justin?” My voice was steady and calm. I would cope with this. I would not run just because he was acting so strange.

His smile was a bitter twist to his pretty mouth. I didn’t like it a bit. It spoke of secrets and fears. “I’m not trying to scare you, Love. I mean to keep you. I’m just trying to gauge how badly you want to be kept.”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on. Is it something to do with that conversation you had with Roger?”

His brows shot up. “So happy you asked about Roger. I just finished having a meeting with him, and he’s dying to meet you, so he’ll be here shortly. You’ll like him. Very nice man.”

I traced a finger down the smooth plane of his cheek. I rubbed at a spot there where it dimpled when he smiled. “So you refuse to tell me? Is that how it’s going to be with us?” I asked him.

The mask he’d been maintaining slipped for an instant, giving me a glimpse into raw, desperate eyes.

“No, Selena. I want us to share everything. I mean that. Will you just give me time?”

“Will you stop acting like the world is about to fall down around us?”

“Yes, of course. If I know that you’re devoted to me, and devoted to us staying together, it will help immensely.”

“I’ve told you how I feel. But you can’t make me depend on you so quickly, so desperately, and then close yourself off. I can’t take that, Justin. It raises all of my defenses—sets off all of my alarms, when you act scared and secretive.

He nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve been on edge with a crucial negotiation. It is a lose-lose type of scenario. I’ll try not to take it home with me anymore. Ah, here comes Roger.”

Roger was an attractive man, with slate gray hair and a face that looked like it had been lined and weathered with smiles rather than frowns. He was a fit man, maybe in his early fifties. His smile was big and sincere as he approached us.

“Leave it to Justin to drag me clubbing in my fifties,” he said by way of greeting.

I smiled at him. He held out a hand, and I pulled back far enough from Justin to shake it.

“I’m Roger, an old friend of the family. And you’re Selena. I’ve heard so much about you. I begin to see why my young friend has turned over a new leaf.” His tone was rich and warm with sincerity.

A waiter approached our group, looking nervous and anxious. Justin leveled a hard stare at him that made the waiter’s anxiety understandable.

“Mr. Cavendish, sir. Jeff, the manager, needs a moment of your time.”

Justin watched the other man, his cold stare the epitome of intimidation. “Really? He needs my presence right now? Does he think that I’m here for business?”

“No, sir. He knows you are here, uh, socially. He said it was very important.”

Justin smiled a sharp smile that was all perfect white teeth. It was scary. “Tell him I’ll be with him momentarily.”

He nodded at Roger, kissing my cheek roughly. He looked agitated, his jaw clenched. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment. This had better be good.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mr. Curious

We watched him stride away.

Roger spoke when he was a good distance away. “Pardon my bluntness, Selena, but are you at all aware of Justin’s past?”

I turned to look at him, meeting his eyes very steadily. “What are you referring to exactly?”

He sighed, looking uncomfortable. “He was given into the care of a cousin of his shortly after his parents died. I fought this decision—fought it hard, but I was overturned by his family. I had no legal ability to protect him. I only have my suspicions about his guardian, and it really isn’t my place to be telling you this, but in order to understand some of what Justin has done, I think you should know—“

“I know all about Spencer, if that’s what you’re getting at. Why are you telling me this?”

He studied me. “He told you about Spencer?”

I nodded.

He looked startled. “It’s probably a very good sign that he shared something like that with you. The reason I bring it up, though, is that after he left Spencer’s care, he became a different kid for a long time. He was wild and unruly. I barely knew him anymore. Whatever happened with his guardian, it affected him in a very negative way. I don’t know if you know this, but he used to be quite…promiscuous.”

I felt my eyes harden as I looked at him. “I’m well aware of that. Trust me when I say that it’s been brought to my attention many times.”

“So you know how he used to be? Up until he met you, he was…”

“He was a slut. Yes, I know. What’s your point?” I felt rude even as I said the words, but God was I sick of this subject.

“Well…I got the impression from Justin that he would be quite distraught if some things about his past were brought to light. I was led to believe that he feared that you would leave him if you knew about his former indiscretions, and that was why he was so upset about certain things being revealed. Do you know about his…unorthodox preferences?”

I sighed, thoroughly confused and sooo done with the conversation. “Yes. I’m very aware,” I said, trying not to blush as I kept his steady gaze. Something about the man was just so dignified. I couldn’t believe that I was as good as discussing my BDSM lifestyle with him.

His thick, dark eyebrows shot up. “Well, that’s a relief, though it doesn’t exactly clear anything up for me. Again, pardon my bluntness, but perhaps you should let Justin know that his past won’t scare you off.”

“Why? What is the point to all this? What’s been going on with Justin?”

He shot a glance behind me and looked particularly uncomfortable. “I am not at liberty to say,” he said absently.

“Now you sound like a lawyer,” I told him.

As I spoke, a firm hand descended to my nape.

“That was quick,” Roger told Justin, who was pressing himself tightly against my back.

“It was nothing,” Justin stated dismissively. “What have you two been chatting about? Why does he sound like a lawyer, Love?”

I turned to look at him.

He shifted with me, not relinquishing the hand on my nape.

“What was the emergency?” I asked with an arched brow.

His upper lipped curled. “There wasn’t one. There was only a part-time manager in need of a demotion. Tell me what you were talking about?”

“That’s a nosy question. Did you really demote someone for wasting five minutes of your time?”

He moved until he was standing close against me, pressing himself against my side. Even knowing that he was doing it to distract me, I was far from unaffected by his nearness.

“I demoted him, and put him on probation pending termination, because he is managing one of the most profitable clubs in Manhattan, and he can’t handle a simple wine shortage. Him wasting five minutes of my time only illuminated the facts for me. Your turn. What were you two talking about?”

Roger cleared his throat. “Nothing important, Justin. I really do need to get going. I’ll call you if I learn anything new.”

Roger shook our hands, bowing his head politely before turning away.