#to the point where i spent the last 11 hours just laying in bed being adhd miserable bc it Hurt to be awake but the understimulation had me

[foldingfittedsheets]

Heyo I was wondering if you know anything about mattresses and chronic pain and what may help more? I have chronic migraines and I've been looking into getting a new Mattress cause mine is old and needs replaced and I was like trying to do research on chronic migraines ans mattresses seeing if I might find one that may help (unfortunately I spend a lot of time in bed due to disabilities) and I'm looking to get a queen but like researching online I'm finding like a lot of conflicting stuff and most of it seems to be just buy our mattress it cures migraines or dumb stuff like that or something I know it depends probably on your body and preferences too but being disabled I have like no money so it's a big purchase for me and then our nearest mattress store is over a 2 hour round trip away and when you're disabled that's like going to the moon and I don't feel well so I want to do as much research as I can before I go cause last time I ended up in too much pain by the second store that i just picked the first mattress that hurt less to lay on and was like ok let's go spent far too much money on it and for the last idk 12 years? 11? Have disliked it immensely any advice would be much appreciated bc all I know at this point is that I need a queen

So for you, shopping around is a big ol Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. Every store is going to have basically the same beds. Conserve your energy for finding the right bed once you’re in store.

You cannot research how a bed is going to feel for your body. But you can research where you want to buy it from. Compare for delivery fees, reviews, and services. A good place should have a long window to return or exchange, that means they’ll take care of you if something goes wrong.

Once you go in, convey immediately that you have special needs and must try as few beds as possible. A large portion of people shopping for beds are those with health issues that can’t ignore their mattresses impact on their health. The person should be prepared to make it as low impact as possible.

There is not going to be a mattress that you lay on that can cure your migraines. But there will be mattresses that are more comfortable for long times being bed bound. And the only thing I’ve ever heard associated with reducing migraines is getting to keep your head up, so for you with chronic pain and migraines who spends a lot of time in bed, getting a cheaper bed to budget for an adjustable base is a good idea. There’s places that have great sales on the adjustable bases specifically so that’s worth looking for.

I suspect that in your case having a hybrid might be up your alley, but it depends on you. All foam is the most pressure relieving with chronic pain but it can be harder to move around which is rough if you’re bed bound. Hybrid is best of both worlds.

Good luck, I hope it goes as well as it can!

[mychoombatheroomba]

Proximity Alert

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 11

And into the minefield you go. Little do you know, Leon is fool enough to follow you.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Flustered or not, Leon was, as you came to find out, a damn good shot. 

He would have had to have been, you supposed, to survive what he’d survived. Still, you found yourself very much impressed as the two of you spent your hour unloading magazine after magazine into the targets down range. You didn’t mind losing to him. 

Not when three points was all it took for him to smile the way he did. 

“If you can shoot like that now, just think of how good you’d be if you cut that hair so you could see,” you’d said, and you weren’t sure where the energy you had was coming from. 

Maybe you said it for the same reason you'd called him pretty; it was true, yes, but you also wanted to get a rise out of him. 

And a rise you got. “You must not hate my hair too much, if you think I’m pretty.” 

Oh, he was getting better at countering your jabs. Knives and words. And just like when he managed to get a successful counter in while sparring, you watched his eyes go a little wide as he realized what he’d just said. 

You were both flying by the seat of your pants, then. 

“I won’t matter how pretty you are if someone can throw you around by your fringe,” you said, ignoring the way it felt like you were walking over the edge of a cliff. Ignoring the way your mouth curled without you meaning it to. “And if I remember right, I’ve done it before.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to be extra careful, then.” His own smile returned, and it lingered until the two of you said your goodbyes. 

That smile made some stupid, sentimental part of you ache because it made him look young - young and proud and excited that he’d done well. For a moment, he looked like Raccoon City never happened. Like the two of you weren’t training to fight what spawned from mankind’s darkest ideas. For a moment, as Leon beamed at you, you could almost imagine that things were normal. Or, as normal as they ever had been for you. 

You felt that way more and more when you were around Leon - strange, because if anyone should remind you of what waited for you out there in the real world, it should have been him. Instead, you found yourself smiling more when you were around him than you had in the last year. The smiling wasn’t the dangerous part, though. 

Ever more, you were ignoring the warning bells in your mind in favor of holding his gaze for a second longer than you should have. Letting yourself study the strength of his jawline, the way the boyish fullness of his cheeks was sharpening into something harder. Or the way his arms were being cut by more and more defining lines. You let yourself say things you shouldn’t have because getting those little rises out of him made you feel . . . 

It made you feel something other than the misery you’d been wallowing in for so long. 

Something you almost felt you didn’t deserve. 

That had been the silent war your thoughts had been waging, because it was stupid to get close. It was completely and utterly reckless. 

And you thought of that smile as you went to bed that night, anyway, because it felt good to imagine something other than the snow and cold, and the dead eyes that waited for you in your dreams. Thinking of the warmth of his hand on top of yours, his smart mouth, or the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears would redden when he was embarrassed felt like you’d found a place to rest your weary bones. Maybe you could afford a moment of weakness, every so often. 

Thoughts were harmless without action to give them life. A gun with the safety on. You could think whatever you wanted. 

So long as it stayed safe in your mind, where it belonged. 

⧫⧫⧫

Pretty boy. 

It really shouldn’t have taken up such a big space in his head, but Leon found himself thinking of those words as he lay in bed that night. It didn’t stop the nightmares, but it was a far better thing to remember when morning came than rotting flesh, or heavy footfalls at his back. 

Or the feeling of someone’s hand slipping through his fingers. 

He would much rather think of you and whether you were being serious or not. 

That was the question he tried to puzzle out that day, well aware that he was putting too much thought into a single moment. A joke. Had to have been. 

Still, he sure as hell wanted more, whatever it was.  

So, when evening came and he met you in the training yard, he did so with a mission he had no notion of how to carry out. You were already there, as always, the sunset casting you in honey gold. You tossed him a knife. “As promised,” you said as Leon caught it. 

“So, what do I get if I win this time?” he asked, flipping the blade back and forth, just as you so often did. It was becoming more and more natural to him, now. 

Still, if it was natural for him, it was second nature for you. 

“I wouldn’t worry about something that’s not going to happen,” you shrugged, a glint in your eyes. You’d always seemed sure of yourself, but with the passing of the last few weeks, he’d come to see a different side of that confidence. One that wasn’t afraid to dish out a bit of trash talk. An Army brat, through and through. Leon didn’t mind it, so long as he could give as good as he got. 

He rushed forward, knife aimed at your chest. You moved just as fast as Leon knew you could, bringing your hand up to smack the blade away. A few weeks ago, you would have blocked him, but Leon had gotten faster since you began teaching him. 

More than that, he’d gotten wise to a few tricks. 

He tried not to be too proud that he was nearly fast enough to pull the feint off. Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, after all. Still, as he changed his weapon’s course at the last minute and felt the blade catch your shirt, if not your skin. You felt it too, he could see it on your face as you leapt backwards to safety. “Don’t be so sure,” he breathed, locking eyes with you. “I learned from the best.” Flattery had worked the night before. Maybe-

“I’ll tell Krauser you said so.” 

“Not what I-”

“I know what you meant,” you nodded, eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “Now, come on.” 

You were all business when the knives were in play. He knew that. Still, it had been worth a try. Besides, he didn’t think he would ever get tired of watching you fight. Even if he was the one on the business end of your knife. 

You were a viper. When you reared up to strike, one couldn’t help but watch, wide-eyed as adrenaline filled them. Fear and bewilderment in equal measure. And when you moved, god help anyone within reach. You were too fast for him several times that night, as you always were. Too fast and too dangerously beautiful-

Focus. 

The difference lately was that Leon was beginning to move the same way. Those patterns that he’d been watching for from you, he’d finally begun to learn. You favored protecting your torso over your legs. You liked feints. Wrist locks and knocking him off his feet. Controlling his arm. All favorites that he learned to watch out for. It let him stay “alive” longer and longer. All secrets that helped him avoid a disarm, or a takedown. He was learning more than how to fight, he was learning you. For every disarm or takedown, he gave you a scrape or a bruise. You were showing him how to bridge the gap between the two of you. 

That was why he thought he had you when you bent his arm up after a jab at his side, the strain of it edging just short of real pain. 

Your hands were both occupied. His left wasn’t. 

He kicked towards your leg, and you shifted a bit to avoid it. 

His wrist being free was just enough mobility for him to toss the knife up. His left hand caught it, and again he just nearly missed the swipe he took at your head. You ducked under the swing in a blur of motion, and he followed through. You caught the attack, and again your hands were moving to control. Just as he knew you would. 

Shoulder protesting a bit at the speed with which he moved, Leon wove his arm under your own. You blocked the first strike. Just barely the second. 

Your bodies were pressed together, your hands just barely stopping him from checkmate. With steel just an inch from your throat, your lips parted as you looked up at him, first in surprise and then in struggle. Victory was there, within reach. So close Leon could reach out and grab it. Get drunk off of it. 

Drunk off of the idea of winning and drunk off the way you felt against him. 

Then he felt something else. The weaving of fingers through the hair on the back of his head. Gentle for only a millisecond. The sort of sensation that made it feel like someone had hooked him to a high-voltage battery. That gentleness died before it even drew its first breath as he remembered the warning you’d given him the day before. 

⧫⧫⧫

You’d done it to win, and maybe to prove a point. What you could never have predicted was that bragging rights were absolutely nothing next to the real prize. That being the sound that Leon Kennedy made that evening in the training yard when you pulled his head back by his hair. 

You’d heard his pained groans a hundred times now. This one, though . . . it was different. Throaty and strained, and downright sinful. No human being had a right to make that noise. Not in a situation like this. 

If that was the sound he made when he was in pain . . .

What were you doing?

Both of you froze as soon as you realized what had happened, staring at each other from a distance that seemed too far and too close all at once. His eyes were dark, even with how wide they were. His breathing shallow. His body tense. His lips parted. His throat was exposed, the knife in his hand still pressed against it. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thick. 

It was then that you realized just how far into that minefield you’d wandered.

And the way he was looking at you, those shadowed blue eyes searching your own, only made it worse. 

What the fuck were you doing?

“Told you about the hair,” you said, not of your own volition. Something cruel had a hold of you. Cruel and wild and full of a fire that burned you from the inside out. A year’s worth of pushing want down in favor of need was all threatening to split you open, now. 

You were stronger than your impulses, though. Or more cowardly than you’d like to admit. 

Whatever the case, you let go of Leon’s hair and stepped away because you knew if you didn’t, it would mean the beginning of something you couldn’t allow into reality. You just hoped that you had bailed out early enough, because as you moved away from him, that tension in the air remained. 

“You okay?” you asked after a moment of silence, because you genuinely didn’t know what else to say. 

“Yeah,” Leon nodded, and even if he was lying, you weren’t going to call him on it. Not right now. “Yeah. Just . . . point taken about the hair.” 

“Hmm,” you nodded back. 

Another beat of oppressive stillness, and you could only do your best to tread water through it. That, and try not to linger on the way Leon’s lips had looked only seconds ago. It was just a moment, and it passed. The safety was still on. 

“So, are you going to cut it?” you finally asked, pointing to his hair. 

Leon had looked lost up until that moment. Even as you spoke, it took him a second to register what you’d said. He looked at you for the first time since you’d let him go - just a glance, but one that let you know that you’d kicked up a storm in his mind. He breathed a single dry laugh and shook his head. “Not a chance.” 

⧫⧫⧫

He couldn’t sleep. And not entirely for the usual reasons. 

No, that night, Leon was kept awake by the memory of your hand in his hair and the sharp pain of you pulling on it. That, and the warmth of you being so close to him. The way your eyes had been so bright with an emotion he’d never seen in you before, one that burned low and true like embers. 

He replayed the moment in his mind, out of embarrassment, true, but also to chase the phantom of what he’d felt. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of you in the dark - his thoughts had drifted to you more and more lately. That night, though, he wasn’t just thinking about you. He was imagining you. He imagined what you might feel like in his arms, what the skin beneath your shirt might feel like against his fingertips. 

He imagined what it might be like to feel the kiss of your lips instead of your steel. 

And as he imagined, he fought back the guilt that wrapped its cold hands around his throat. Who the guilt was owed to . . . that was becoming a more difficult thing to know.

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Chapter Index

A/N: This chapter brought to you by the sounds Leon makes when he's injured. Also shot myself in the foot putting a Leon pic in every chapter . . . gonna need more than 40 of these mfs 😂

[juggalomary]

This is a first chapter of my first fic which will be posted to AO3 around the 12/12 time (I’m waiting on my invitation lol). I’d also love a beta reader but I literally don’t know how to get one.

Who is This Kid?

Ch1

BANG.

Silence. Not total silence. Price was shouting, Gaz was shouting, Ghost was shouting. There was a lot of shouting.

Johnny fell, hit the ground hard and then didn’t move. He was bleeding, a lot. There was blood on Ghosts knee, from where he knelt down next to him. It was in Soaps hair, on his clothes, on his gun, everywhere.

“DISARMED” there was a shout from Gaz. It sounded like he was underwater. It was then when Ghost finally took his hand off Johnnys pulse point. A simple shake of the head said it all. Soap Mactavish was KIA.

—————

They didn’t try to bring him home with them.

Well didn’t try is an understatement, Ghost and Gaz tried, they had him upright and ready to be lifted before Price told them to leave it to the recon and collection crews.

So that’s what they did. Johnny stayed on the ground, blood still steeping from his head, slowly. Ghost couldn’t look anymore, his best mate, and possible crush, dead on the floor of some tube station next to a disarmed bomb.

—————

Ghost was laying on his bed next to some sickly man at a civilian hospital. He had gone nonverbal for a few days after the mission. Then suddenly one day he knocked on Prices door, drunk off his head and said some shit. Things along the lines of: “I’ll carve his name into a bullet and paint the wall red and pink.”

He probably should’ve specified that he was talking about Makarov. Ghost was not suicidal, he had not once attempted. Ghost was not unstable. Ghost passed every psych eval except for his last one. He was 5 points off of a pass, he failed due to the ‘what are your plans out of the military question?’

He had said “buy a nice house and hunt.” They had asked what, he had said “anything that moves really.”

So what it was a bit vague, he was feeling vague at that moment. So he ended up on watch and not allowed leave. He wouldn’t have taken one anyway. He got taken off watch and sent to a hospital when his gun was found on range after he had left for a moment with one bullet with ‘J. Mactivish’ carved into it.

Ghost is not suicidal. Ghost was planning on shooting Makarov with that one. He just grabbed some ammo from his room and loaded up. He had not realized that it was Johnnys bullet.

He spent a week in the hospital, then was released. He found himself back on base to spend his 2 week medical leave ordered by his psychiatrist.

When he entered his room, everything slowed to a halt and then sped back up. There was a note on his door.

‘Lieutenant Riley

We feel as though we have to tell you personally, John Leon ‘Soap’ Mactavish has been formally reported KIA as of 11/23/23. All living family has been contacted and his body was cremated on 11/25/23. Our deepest condolences go to you.’

He chuckled lightly at Johnnys middle name. Then he was laughing, then he was laughing as tears slipped out, and then he was sitting on the floor of Prices office as he was being held. Wait. When the hell did he get there. Well never mind that, his captain and father figure (he would never tell a soul that) was holding him. It was nice.

—————

Ghosts 2 weeks were up. He was cleared for duty. During those weeks they had sent Johnny to rest in the wind and water. He was wearing his dog tags along his. They had found evidence of Makarov in a remote and seemingly abandoned village along the Russia-Malaysia border. Heat signatures were suddenly picked up after 3 months of nothing more than a few wild animals.

It was decided that the 141 would go in and attempt to apprehend Makarov. Ghost would be sniping while Gaz and Price would go in. Johnny would be watching down on them.

—————

It was a simple mission. No casualties on either side. Turns out they ran just hours before the 141 were wheels up. They still looked and looked, for anything really. They were searching through a file cabinet when a file was picked up and a few Polaroids fell out.

“Captain, you have to see this.” Gaz was speaking slowly and sounded scared. It took a lot to scare Gaz, and pictures are usually not something soldiers who’ve seen so much should be afraid of.

“Gaz, what do you have…” 5 pictures, 2 head wounds, 2 soldiers, 1 person in a hospital bed, one person on the ground.

The dead man was not John, the man in hospital was. The final photo was a picture taken in a dark room with flash, a buzzed head with a bloody bandage. He looked terrible, bruised, bloody, beaten, and the worst part, he was looking towards the camera, but not at it. 1000 yard stare, as his therapist would say.

The entire village was searched again, with 100% more thoroughness. They didn’t find anybody. What they did find the second round was the hospital bed that he was laying in in the picture. There was a blood stain on the top of the mattress and metal restraints at the sides. They also found a copy of the records they kept on him.

The bullet had penetrated his skull and somehow missed his brain and exited 4 inches above the entry wound on the top of his head, nearly shattering his skull. He was kept alive on life support for 5 days, before throwing up the intubation and passing out. He was then ‘taken to the positive psychology ward’, meaning roughly that he was now in the process of being seemingly brainwashed. There was one photo with a date on it 12/4/23, it was a picture of Soap with a M branded onto his collarbone and mouth slightly open, broken nose and disassociated.

That man in the photo may be Soap, but there was no way it was Johnny.

[karunava]

it's super early in the day but i'd like to talk about this a little bit because my head hurts and it's something that's been nagging on me for a while now

one of the reasons that my mom and i don't agree on when to do things is, i think, because of how we view the concept of 'doing things' itself? it's not something that i've ever really thought of before in terms of this detail but i think i finally get it

for instance: last night, when we were talking as i was going to bed, she said if i 'didn't get out there by midnight from now on my bedtime was going to be 11 pm'. the issue was that i had come out at midnight. i just spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom brushing my teeth/washing my face/doing the third thing you do there. when i told her this, and i made it clear i was going into the bathroom first, her response was originally

"then start washing up at 11:45"

and i think that's when it hit me that she doesn't view time the same as i do. she probably views it as a time to cool down, one of those medial times between 'doing things on the computer' and 'laying in bed trying to sleep'. the issue is that i actually view it as three separate time blocks: doing things on the computer -> washing up, doing the last dishes, putting my stuff out there, etc. -> trying to fall asleep.

it's the same with a lot of stuff in terms of 'hidden time taxes,' though. she tells me that she wants to start making me exercise. i acquiesce. suddenly she wants me to come out ten minutes earlier every night, except that now we've already chosen the program we're doing every night, so there's no reason to come out early since that was always to 'find something.' for me, that's just ten extra minutes - you might as well tell me we're actually starting at 9:20.

and it's a lot less of an issue when i have a vaguely broad amount of free time, but when i'm spending four hours a day on a study program and being pulled to do dishes four times a day and to shower and to do everything else

i really want those extra minutes where i get to just be in the zone, to the point that i don't even mind my meds waking me up at 6am anymore.

[wabblebees]

.

[celestialrry]

stood up

3.5k

hello everyone!!!! I've been awol for literally weeks because i had absolutely NO motivation to write but i finally finished this piece ˊᗜˋ so YAY. ALSOO thank you for following me, liking, and reblogging my pieces (it encourages me somuchsothankyouireallyappreciateit-- and remember reblogging really helps us writers :))) )  here’s a hug for all ur patience and feel free to send me asks or requests i love talking to you guys! ε(♡'-')з

summary: Harry keeps standing Y/N up. (request from @ballerinrry! thank u love)

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and sex, angsty but with a happy ending cause for some reason i can never let them end on a bad note

Y/N was excited.

It had been a while since Harry had asked her to go on a date, it was always the other way around recently. She couldn’t blame him though, Y/N knew just how busy Harry always was, and it wasn’t like he was purposefully not asking her to go do things, he just had a lot on his plate.

That’s what she kept telling herself anyways. 

It’s what she told herself when it had been 2 weeks since they had even eaten a meal together, and given the fact that just a few months ago Harry had come back to London for a while, that was rare. So, Y/N asked him to grab lunch on a Saturday while they were lying in bed together, and when he agreed, but failed to show up, leaving Y/N sitting at the cafe, her lips morphed into a frown and her eyes not focusing on the phone in front of her, she told herself he was simply booked up with meetings and studio time and such. 

Thats what he told her when he got into bed that night to apologize for accidentally standing her up. She forgave him, of course, and suggested they could just get dinner the next week. He agreed, even walked around to his calander her to show her he was marking the date off in his calendar with a heart, her first initial, and 7:00 PM etched into the little box with red sharpie. 

So, the week passed with quick kisses of good mornings and good nights, and while Harry was gone Y/N had on a black dress she had been excited to wear for a while now, with those little mini silver heels and a coat strung over her shoulders as she sat on her couch waiting for Harry to swing by to pick her up. She shot him a text that simply asked “You otw? xx”

He was not.

It took about 30 minutes of waiting on their couch to realize he was standing her up, again. And it took until the next morning for Harry to see her text (his phone had been on do not disturb while he was at the studio and he ended up spending the night at Sarah and Mitch’s after a few beers), and for the guilt to seep through his veins. 

He apologized, again. And Y/N forgave him, again. 

Only until it got to the point where Y/N no longer remembered the amount of times Harry had stood her up, for being at the studio, or sleeping after a meeting, or simply just not paying attention to his phone, she knew there was a problem. 

Harry was fully aware of the problem too. He knew that this was no way to ever treat a partner, and if someone was doing this to him, he’d dump them— well, he’s never been one to end a relationship unless it was necessary, so that’s an exaggeration, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

Which is why when he got home one day around 11 PM, gave her a kiss to the forehead after she sat up in their bed to give him a hug, and a soft  “Can we talk?” escaped her lips, he knew he had to fix this. So he asked her if they could talk over dinner the next night, he just wanted to sleep but also wanted to fix things with his girl, asking her if she was free of course, before telling her he’s gonna make a reservation at that nice restaurant the two of them used to go to quite often, because “it’s been a while since I’ve taken my favorite girl out”.

A grin broke out on her face because he had asked her! And if Harry was planning it, there’s no way he’d cancel or stand her up. 

 So yeah, Y/N was excited.

She woke up that morning with a smile on her face, and something akin to a what she thinks a rainbow would feel like running through her veins. It had only been a few months since she’d last been on a date with her boyfriend of almost 2 years and a half in person, and she was going to make the most of it. Because after this date, things would change. They’d spend more time together again and it would be like this little bump (that neither had acknowledged) never happened.

Y/N did, well, everything to prepare. Took a long shower, shaved, put on that coconut lotion Harry likes— he tended to dig his face in her neck when he smelled it while holding her—, brushed her teeth more than 3 times, dug in her closet to find that one patterned soft purple dress she bought ages ago but never had a change to wear it, until now, put on those really cute heels Harry said he liked once (“Looks like something you’d wear on a runway pet, I love ‘em.”), and even styled her hair differently than normal.

He had told her he would swing by at 8 on the dot after the studio, and soon enough, it was 8, with no sign from the man who made the promise himself. Y/N thought maybe there was traffic, he was just running late, texted him a quick, “Can’t wait to see you!! xxx” and put her phone on the coffee table, waiting on their couch. 

8 turned to 9, 9 turned to 10, 10 turned to 11, and soon it was midnight. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt more empty than how she felt then, walking to their shared room of a year, slipping off her heels and tossing them towards the closet, as well as pulling her dress over herself and letting it fall to the floor behind her, grabbing that one t-shirt she always wears when she needs comfort (which just happened to an extra 2018 Live on Tour shirt Harry had laying around that she snatched just 3 months into them dating), and flopping into bed.  

She couldn’t fall asleep, and instead spent her time curled up in their bedsheets, a steady flow of tears making their way down her blush covered cheeks.

。:°ஐ

Harry usually didn’t make mistakes.

Sure, he had his moments, grabbing the wrong coffee off the counter when his name was called at the cafe, forgetting to text Jeff that he actually couldn’t make it to a meeting that was scheduled in a few hours. Just little things, things that didn’t matter that much, and could always be fixed. He didn’t usually make mistakes that weren’t easy to fix. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Until, he was.

Harry loved Y/N. He loved having her around, loved spending time with her, loved loving on her, loved kissing her, loved touching her, loved the way she went about almost everything. He was so in love with her, that hurting her was out of the question. He never wanted to be the one to make her cry, make her bottom lip quiver before the tears rushed out like he’d seen many times before, due to movies, his songs (which as sadistic as it sounds was an ego builder to have someone so close to him so affected by the music he wrote), her school work, or even her friends that weren’t being so nice.

In fact, he was so in love with her, even being so afraid of commitment (it took him over a year of them dating to ask her to move in), all he wanted to do was blurt out those 4 dreaded words. “Will you marry me?” It was a bond for life, and he was terrified of that, but with Y/N all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his living days with her.

When Harry had come back from being in L.A. for so long and finally being in the same city as his girlfriend back at their home, all they did was spend time together. Every time he saw Y/N all he wanted to do was say those 4 words that he hadn’t even fully come to terms with himself. It was dangerous, and Harry’s self control when it came to Y/N was lacking, so he simply did was every normal person would do in his situation.

He stood her up. 

Many more times than he could count, and of course he felt like the shittiest person in the world— shittiest boyfriend in the world—but at least now she can’t possibly be under the impression that he wanted to marry her, which is what he wanted. Or thought he wanted, until Sarah called him up one day after he had stood Y/N up for dinner the night before and told him off. Told Harry just how fucking terrible he made Y/N feel, how unwanted she thought she was, how she felt like they were loosing their relationship, and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. (Of course Y/N had sobbed to Sarah about it over the phone while she was drunk off the wine she opened 40 minutes after Harry said he would be there, so she really didn’t even remember the conversation).

And later that day Harry had come home, heard her wavering voice asking if they could talk, and decided in his head he would tell her how he felt, how sorry he was, and how he wanted to be with her forever and love her forever if she allowed him. He had a few expectations for their dinner, that Y/N would probably tell him how he’s made her feel, and Harry would apologize, tell her why he did it, explain he thought it was no excuse, then tell her he plans on marrying her (obviously not proposing just yet, but finally bringing up the conversation they had never had even though they were in a serious committed relationship) and they’d go back home, have the most amazing sex ever, and forget about the whole thing. 

What Harry didn’t expect was to get a call from Jeff around 5 asking him to come to the studio to fix few vocals, then end up nailing down 2 songs in one night, go to a bar with the band to celebrate, get drunk, then pass out at Mitch and Sarahs flat. 

But that’s what happened, according to Mitch, who woke Harry up the very next morning. 

“Good morning man, wakey wakey,” Mitch’s teasing tone echoed through Harry’s (what felt like full of vodka) brain as he groaned and squinted his eyes. “Why are you waking me up at this hour in the morning?” Harry asked drearily, sighing and simultaneously regretting last night as a whole because the last thing he wanted to do while hungover was be up before at least 9 AM.

“We’ve gotta go to meet with Jeff about tour in like a hour, H” Mitch stated .

At Mitch’s words Harry sat up on their couch, eyes wide in fear. “Wait mate, I thought tha’ meeting was on Wednesday.”

“It is Wednesday H, god how drunk did we let you get last night…” Mitch said, beginning to recount some of Harry’s antics the night before. Harry however, couldn’t hear a thing with the blood pumping through his ears. If today was Wednesday, that meant yesterday was Tuesday, and he went and got trashed at a bar with his friends Tuesday night when— when he was supposed to be on a date with Y/N, when he was supposed to confess his intentions, when he was supposed to apologize for standing her up over and over, yet instead he went and did it again.

Now this, this was a mistake.

“…H. H. Harry? Are you there?” Mitch’s voice came back into focus and Harry shook his head. “I- fuck, I was supposed to take Y/N out last night.” Harry said, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you, it’s just one night.” Mitch tried to make Harry feel better. He knew Y/N was a very forgiving person, she would get over this in no time.

“No, she won’t. I-I’ve stood her up for the past month and a half, Mitch.”

At these words, Mitch stands straight up  making pained eye contact with Sarah in the kitchen who was overhearing most of this conversation with her eyes wide. She had no idea it was this bad. “Month and a half? I thought it was just that one time a few weeks ago, Harry what the hell is wrong with you?” Harry simply shook his head and didn’t reply. He had absolutely no idea how to make it up to her. “I-fuck, I don’t know Mitch!” Harry raised his voice. “I need to see her and apologize, now.” Harry said, standing up and rushing over to the front door and slipping on his shoes. 

“This meeting is mandatory Harry, as much as I want you to see her too, she’d probably still asleep, and I don’t think this can be solved in under an hour.” Mitch said calmly, already knowing Harry was close to walking out his door. Harry stayed silent for a moment, weighing the options. Either go apologize to his girlfriend, or prioritize himself over her again. 

“We can do it another day, I’m sorry, but I have to go see her, tell Jeff I feel sick.” And he walked out without another word.

。:°ஐ

The morning after Harry stood Y/N up again was brutal. 

She stayed up all night, replaying moments with Harry in her head, analyzing if he wanted to be there with her, wondering if maybe he felt like he had to stay with her out of pity. It was torture, and the pain seemed to turn into numbness as time went by, and eventually the sun came up, and she stayed in bed, her motivation lost.

A loud crash and “Fuck!” woke her up, swollen eyes fluttering open to the invasive noise. Y/N furrowed her brows, her mind connecting everything that happened yesterday and unfortunately reminding her of the unbearable pain she went through the night before. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up and flung her legs out of her bed sheets that had been flung off the bed in the middle of the night.  She began grumbling to herself as she made her way downstairs, ready to tell Harry off for making so much noise.

Her mouth stopped moving, and instead remained in limbo as her eyes met Harry’s. His mouth opened to speak, but his words were caught in his throat as he saw the state she was in. It was when her mouth pressed into a line that he could begin talking. “Y/N, baby, please I know you don’t wanna see me or talk t’me right now but I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love. So so sorry, it was an accident, I went t’ the studio to fix a few things then got hung up on the songs and by the time we went to celebrate I completely lost track of time, and I was too drunk to drive home so I crashed at Mitch’s.”

Her mouth fell open at his words. Everything was happening too fast. Hearing that he stood her up to drink at a fucking bar to celebrate himself, then coming home and accidentally knocking over a glass in their kitchen (which she put together was the crash earlier after seeing the shards of broken glass on the floor) frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him any longer, and Harry had stopped talking after realizing what he just admitted to her. Without another glance, instead of looking at Y/N’s tear stained face, all he saw was her back, walking up the stairs to their room. 

“Fuck,” He said to himself before following her up the pink stairs. “Y/N, love wait-please, I’m so sorry, I just need to talk to you, I need to explain myself, please.” He begged as she shut their bedroom door in his face, his voice turning into a desperate whine at the end. 

。:°ஐ

It’s been 3 days since then, and she hasn’t spoken to him. He would leave in the mornings, kissing her forehead and mumbling an “I love you” and telling her exactly what time he’d be home, before leaving and coming back on time to find an empty plate in the sink and her lying in their bed, whether it be reading, scrolling on her phone, or typing on her laptop. He would apologize many times, reaching his hand out for hers and she would simply situate herself in their bed and lay down, back turned to him. 

Harry just couldn’t take it anymore. 

It was when she had finally let him kiss her forehead goodnight that he decided to take his chance. “Y/N.” He spoke softly, with no response or anything to indicate she heard him. “Baby, can we please talk- or I’ll talk and you listen, I just- I really need to say some things.” 

She was still faced away from him when he leaned against their headboard and he decided to keep going. 

“I- um. I’m sure you know how sorry I am, but I really am- sorry I mean. Not just for tonight but for every other time I’ve stood you up. I’m so sorry for not showing you how much you matter to me, and how much the things you do matter to me.”

It was then that she slowly sat up next to him and looked at him, eyes begging him to continue. He blushed at her intense eye-contact that he had barely gotten over the past few days and took a breath, opting to look at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“We’ve been together for 2 and almost a half years, which is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and it’s no excuse to treat you this way, but I had just been thinking about how things progress even further than now,” He coughs. “Which is marriage, and when I finally came home, all I wanted to do was ask you to marry me- I don’t- m’not proposing right now, I just- I got really scared because wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone is crazy to me,

I’ve never thought that way about anyone else until you, I didn’t even really want to get married before you, and I started to distance myself before I ended up telling you this, but obviously that blew up in my face.” He chuckled a bit, locking eyes with her unreadable ones for a moment and lifting a hand to run through his hair. “What I’m trying to say, is that I love you, so so much, and I plan on marrying you— obviously if you want to too, of course— and I’m so sorry for trying to make you think that I didn’t care about you anymore or love you any less, because it’s the complete opposite of that.”

His eyes were watery now, as he started down at his interlocked fingers, and his eyes widened when her hand was gently placed over his own. “Harry,” Y/N began. “Look at me, please.” 

His head lifted to see her facing him, her brows knitted and a small smile on her face. “I forgive you, okay? I could tell you were kind of scared of commitment when we first started dating, and I wish I could say your reason for standing me up is surprising but it’s not.” They both chuckled a bit at this. “I- I’m still upset at you, I need you to know that, because 2 months of thinking the love of your life is avoiding you doesn’t feel all too great, so you suck for that,” she said, planting a quick kiss to his cheek which quickly turned pink. “But Harry, even if you asked me to marry you a year ago I would have said yes. I love you, so much, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you as well. I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment, it was… unnecessary and immature. So, thank you for apologizing. I love you.” She confessed again.

“S’okay, I deserved it, and I love you too. Maybe even more. So um, we’re okay?” Harry asked, a hopeful smile on his face. 

She nodded with a smile and pulled him into a much needed hug and pulled away only for him to bring her into an even more needed kiss. “If you ever try to pull that shit again, I’m breaking up with you.” She laughed and he tackled her into the sheets hiding his face in her neck.

“Duly noted, love. Duly noted.”

[kireimarkeu]

To You; l.dh

+another repost! did not make any changes to this work :) p.s this is one of my fav fics i have written :)

summary; bored in quarantine, your boyfriend decides to film himself telling you how much he loves you.

3k words

this was like… ½ edited LMFAO so there might,,, be mistakes…??? this was so tiring to make omfg, enjoy!! lol 

also i mixed the name donghyuck and haechan bc i couldn’t choose one lmfao ok!!! bye gn enjoy!! :)))))))

warnings: there’s a word f*t in it

+Day 1 3:34PM

Haechan adjusted the camera, making sure he could be seen. Once he was sure the camera was reflecting him properly, he leaned back against his gaming chair. 

“Um,” your boyfriend started, looking everywhere but the camera. “This is awkward,” he says, looking back at the camera.

“I started this, since we won’t be able to see each other for a month- because of quarantine,” he explains, “I honestly have no idea what I’m doing right now,” he laughs. 

After a few minutes of pure silence, your boyfriend opened his mouth to continue speaking, “I just feel like— I never really show much love to you?” 

There were times where your boyfriend would purposely avoid saying ‘I love you’ or avoid holding your hands whenever the both of you were outside. Honestly, you didn’t really mind, knowing Donghyuck was never the type to show affection. 

“It’s hard,” he says truthfully, “The boys knows how much I love you, and it sucks that I don’t know how to show you— or tell you, that I love you.”

Haechan bit his lips nervously, “and, I think this video is- or will prove that I love you?”

He wasn’t sure if he was even making sense at this point. 

Your boyfriend groaned, throwing his head back, covering his face with his hands. After a while, he looked back at the camera, “you know what, babe? Just watch the whole thing, okay?”

+Day 4 11:47PM

“Hi,” he smiles, letting out a huff, “this is kinda late, I spent the whole night playing games,” he says guiltily, playing with his fingers, looking away from the camera.

He knows that you didn’t like it when he would stay up until ungodly hours just to play games with his friends. You hated how he would put his health aside just to play games. 

He brings his hands up to brush his wet hair. 

“Uh,” he sighs out loud, pouting. “I feel bad for staying up late last night, so I’m going to spend the whole night with you today,” he laughs. 

Another moment of silence pass. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he whines. 

He sat there in silence, staring at the ground, figuring out on what to say. Should he tell you about his day?

“Well, I woke up at 5PM today,” he tells you, “I ate dinner with my family— mom cooked chicken today!” he says happily, “Then, I went to call you for a bit because I missed you a little too much,” he pouts. 

He scratched his head, “then I showered and now this-“ he says, pointing to the camera. 

“Um, it has been 4 days and I miss you too much,” he says truthfully, “facetiming isn’t working, I think I’m going crazy,” he laughs. 

+Day 5 7:38PM

He was talking halfway, talking about how much he admires you when his phone started ringing. 

“Oh?” he turns around to grab his phone from his bed. A smile formed on his face when he saw you facetiming him. 

He turned to the camera to show his screen, “Baby, you’re calling me,” he giggles before quickly answering to your facetime. 

“Channie~” you whine cutely when your boyfriend answered your facetime, “what are you doing, hyuckie?”

Usually, your boyfriend would complain whenever you would speak in a cute voice, but he secretly likes it. He secretly likes being babied. 

He looks at the camera that was recording the both of you. 

“Nothing,” he lies, “why did you call me, loser?”

You huff, raising your arms so he could see you laying on the bed. “I’m bored, hyuckie~ entertain me~”

He leans back on his chair, “wanna play games with me?”

Your face beam at his words, “Okay! I’ll get my X-Box ready now.”

Your boyfriend was the one who bought for you the X-Box. Well, it was an old version, but you loved it, nonetheless. It wasn’t like you played daily— you only played with boyfriend. 

“I’ll call you in 5, baby,” he tells you, already walking over to turn on the tv. 

“Kay, bye-bye, love you, Hyuckie,” you say in a baby voice, bringing your phone closer to press your lips on the camera. 

Donghyuck scrunched his nose in disgust, “yeah, yeah,” he says before ending the call. 

He quickly grab the camera that was still recording, he moved the camera closer to press a kiss, “I love you too, y/n.”

+Day 7 3:01PM

“Do you remember when you gave me the teddy bear— Oh my gosh, I feel like a youtuber,” he cackles. He shook his head, focusing back to what he was saying. 

“So, do you remember when you gave me the teddy bear?” he asks, “wait,” he says, standing up to grab the tiny teddy bear that was sitting on his bed. 

You had bought him the bear during your 200th day with him. Donghyuck didn’t really give the reaction you wanted. 

“Do you not like it?” you had asked him, disappointment laced in your voice. You didn’t dare look at him, upset with yourself that you had bought something that he didn’t like. 

“No, no!” he quickly replied, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest, the other holding the tiny bear. “I love it,” he says. 

You knew it was a lie. He didn’t seem to like it. 

“I love it,” he says, “I know I didn’t show like I did at that time, but I need it with me every time I go to bed.” 

He scratches his head, regretting his actions that has had happened months ago. 

“No one has ever bought me a bear before,” he explains, “and when you bought it for me, it just felt— I felt, I felt happy? I felt fulfilled? Do you know what I mean?” 

“I really wanted to tell you that I loved your present, especially when you had bought me another present a few days later,”

‘it was to make up for the previous present’ was your reason. 

It broke his heart when you said that while handing him a couple bracelet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved your gift, but it was so hard for him. 

“I hated myself for not being able to tell you the truth, it’s hard—and it still is,” he sighs, “I hope by doing this, I can assure you that I love you..?” 

+Day 10 9:34PM

He was in the middle of filming himself when his mother comes in. 

“Donghyuck-ah, what are you doing? Do you want some fruits?” his mother asks, looking at his son, not noticing the camera perched on the dressing table. 

Instead of answering his mother’s question, he grabs the camera to film his mother. 

“Eomma, say hello to y/n,” Donghyuck says. 

His mother raised her eyebrows in surprised, “hello my dear y/n~ how are you?”

Your boyfriend giggle from behind the camera, “tell her how much you miss her,”

“I think I miss you more than Donghyuck does,” she jokes. “What is this for, Donghyuck-ah?”

Haechan placed the camera back on the dressing table, turning to look at his mum.

“I’m making a video for y/n until quarantine is over,” he explains as his mother walks in, wrapping her arm around her son’s shoulder. 

His mother’s heart warmed at his son’s words. 

“You’re growing up way too fast, our Donghyuck~” she cooed, pulling your boyfriend’s cheeks as he whined in pain. 

You would also pinch his cheeks almost every time the both of you are together. Whenever you had Donghyuck’s cheeks between your fingers, he would whine, pulling away from your grip.

“Eomma! I want strawberries!” he shouts after his mother left his room. 

He turns his attention back to the camera, “Anyways—”

+Day 17 2:35AM

“I really like your eyes,” Haechan confesses dreamily, “your eyes are the colour of shit,” he jokes, “but they’re so shiny, baby,”

The first time he realizes he’s in love with your glimmering eyes was when he brought you out on a date to star gaze. You were staring at the sky, a smile plastered on your face, amazed at how beautiful the sky was. 

When you noticed your boyfriend staring at you, you turned to face him. Your eyes captured his heart. How could someone have such bright eyes?

“Oh! And when you smile, you make my heart beat like crazy!” he chuckles. 

The first thing that caught Hyuck’s eyes when he had a crush on you was your bright smile. He believes that was the main reason that he fell for you. How you would always have a beaming smile plastered on your face everywhere you go. 

He thinks it’s adorable. 

The small dimples that was on the side of your lips whenever you smile. 

And your adorable little laugh he adores so much. 

Or the little birthmark you had on the corner of your mouth. 

After talking about you for a while, he let out a satisfied sigh, “I’m so whip for you, you know?”

After 17 days of making videos for you, it started becoming easier for him to show his love for you. 

“Everything you do makes me go crazy, do you realise that?” he asks you, “do you realize that everything you do makes me happy? No, you don’t have to do anything, your presence makes me melt.”

He laughs at how he was flirting, “you’re probably laughing too,”

His laughter died down, letting out a tired sigh, “well, it’s late and I’m going to go to bed before you nag at me some more,”

He let out a yawn, “goodnight y/n, I love you so much, you don’t know how happy you make me,”

+Day 20 2:56PM

This time, it was different. 

He was filming himself at McDonalds drive-thru. 

“Guess who’s this for?” he asks the camera, his gaze on the road. “Yes, you.”

He turns to look at the camera for a second before paying attention on the road, “you didn’t ask me to get you anything but I wanted to get something for you,” he explains. 

He was lying, this was just an excuse to see you, even for a second. Even if it’s 6 feet apart. Even if there was a glass between the both of you. 

“I think you know the reason why I’m buying this for you,” he says, referring to the food. “To make you fat! You’re right, y/n,” he jokes. 

That was also a lie. You tend to eat less whenever you’re stressed. 

After he found out that you had a project, he knew how stress you would be, and decided to get food, making sure you eat healthily. 

Your boyfriend would never fail to remind you how much he loves your body. No matter shape or size. He has always made sure you feel loved with who you are. 

“I think you know the real reason why I’m coming over,” he adds. When he reaches a red light, he turns to look at the camera with a pout, “I can’t help it, I miss you too much, y/n,” he says in a baby voice. 

He grimaces at his actions, shaking his head disapprovingly, “I am never doing that ever again.”

A few minutes later, he reached your house. He had texted you to that he was waiting for you outside. 

It took you a while to come out, but when you did, you had one of his hoodies over your body. 

He loves it when you wear his clothes, it makes him feel all giddy. 

‘One day, I’m going to wear all of your clothes’ he would say whenever you steal his clothes. 

You walked over to his car, “what the hell are you doing here, dummy,” you ask him, maintaining the distance. 

He grabbed the bag of food from the passenger’s seat and passed it to you from the window of his car. 

“Brought you food, you unappreciative bitch,” he tells you while you walk up to grab the food from him. 

You open the bag to see your favourite food, “my favourite food, too?!” you squeal, “Haechan best boyfie~”

He rolls his eyes, “yeah, yeah, go and finish your project,”

You nodded, the smile not leaving your face. 

“I’ll facetime you later?” he asks. 

“At 11,” you confirmed. 

He nods, signalling for you to go back in. You blow a kiss to your boyfriend before turning around to go back in. 

He quickly fishes out his camera, filming you walking back in your house. 

“Look at my baby all happy because I brought her food,” he says, “enjoy your food, pretty,”

+Day23 6:07PM

“Day 23,” he breathes out. “I didn’t expect it to go by so fast,” he blurts out. 

He puffs his cheeks out, “I don’t want to stop making videos for you, but you would just make fun of me for being soft,”

He had started growing content on making videos for you every day. 

“But at the same time, I can finally see you after a month, babe!” he says happily. “I can finally hold you in my arms, we can kiss until the world ends, we can also do it,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Well, he can’t lie he did miss doing it with you. 

He sighs, “anyway, when we can finally get together, we can watch movies, then come back to my place and we can cuddle!”

He missed that. 

Personally, Donghyuck preferred going over to your place but you preferred going to his place because he had games and a huge bed, and it was just comfortable. 

“Ahh,” he groan, “I miss you like crazy! I think I have to end this video early because I wanna facetime you right now,”

He grabs his phone on the table to call you. 

“Okay, bye babe, I love you, I’m going to talk to you now!”

+Day 25 4:03AM

“Hi,” donghyuck greet the camera. 

Anyone could realise he wasn’t in the best mood. 

It took Donghyuck a while to start talking, “we had a fight earlier today,” he says, his voice lace with disappointment and… hurt?

You had texted him just an hour ago, ranting about your homework. When Donghyuck replied to you a minute later, you got angry at him because he was staying up again at ungodly hours. 

He didn’t understand why you were so angry because you were awake at the same timing as he is. 

“I’m going to give you space, because it’s what you need right now,” he says. “I hope you know I still love you no matter what,”

He bit his lip hesitantly, “I know you don’t like it when I stay up with the boys, but I don’t like you staying up to finish your work either, baby”

He closes his eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I hope you don’t get too stressed over school, eat healthily, and make sure you rest from time to time, babygirl,”

He lets out another sigh before reaching for the camera, “I love you,”

+Day 28 7:36PM

 Haechan purses his lips, staring at the camera, “today is a bad day,” he starts. 

Today he had woke up a little earlier than normal after talking it out with you a few days ago. He decided to get up early and help his mom with cooking, which only resulted him in getting scolded by his mother for making a mess. 

After that, he decided to play games with his friends, however despite playing for 5 hours straight, he didn’t get a single win. 

Now, he has tried to contact you, but you have not replied to him. Probably busy with school. 

He let out a huff, “take a break y/n,” he whines, “focus on me too~”

Letting out a pout he shakes his head, “kidding babe, get those A’s!”

“Well, now I don’t really have anything to do so I’m going to facetime you again, bye babe!”

+Day 30 10:18AM

“Hyuckie!” you call out, running to your boyfriend. When you reached him, you threw your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, making him stumble back a few steps as he grabs on your waist. 

You hid your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. He smells so good.

“You’re not going to let go of me until I say so,” you mumble, tightening your grip around his neck.

He chuckles at you, “I won’t let go of you until you say so,” 

Donghyuck was satisfied with having his arms wrapped around your waist, his face covered in your hair. 

After a few moments of the both of you just holding each other, you finally pull away from your boyfriend. 

“Y/n,” he says, making you hum.

“Wait,” you stop him, making him stare at you with wide eyes as he froze on the spot. 

“Can you kiss me first?” you ask. His eyes soften at your request. Your fingers trace his bottom lips, “I miss your pretty lips.”

He smiles at your words and nodded. Pulling you closer by your waist, he pressed his lips against yours. Your hands rest on his chest while you both share a needy kiss. 

After a few minutes, you pull away, breathless with crimson red cheeks.

Haechan raised his eyebrows as he resumed, “I made something for you,”

You gasped, “what is it?”

He fishes out a CD player. The CD held videos of him explaining how much he loves and appreciates you throughout the whole month. 

He passes you the gift. 

“Watch this at home?” he tells you. 

You grab the CD from his grip, “okay? What is this all about?”

“Just promise me you’ll watch it at home?” he asks again, staring down at you. 

“I will! I will!” 

After making videos of himself for 29 days straight, Donghyuck have concluded that he was so utterly in love with you. He was so in love with you that he didn’t know how to express how much he adores you.

[wiypt-writes]

12 Days of CHRIS-mas

Day 12: Stelly Christmas

A Too Loose And You’ll Lose It One Shot

co-created with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella are left babysitting Jake’s niece…

Pairing: Jake Jensen (The Losers) x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad Language, smut (NSFW, 18+)

W/C: 2.5k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, any likeness to any persons or events in real life are purely co-incidental. I do not own any characters contained herein bar Stella Stevenson and/or any original characters. I do not give consent for my work to be copied and posted/translated onto any other sites. If you see this fiction anywhere other than Tumblr, it has been taken without permission. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer and ALL warnings posted here.

A/N: This is a One Shot that fits into the Too Loose And You’ll Lose It timeline at the end of 2008, right before The Losers head to Bolivia.

25 Days Of Chris-mas Masterlist / Main Masterlist  / Too Loose And You’ll Lose It Masterlist

Day 11: Nick Gant (Push)

December 2008

Uncle Jake!” Grace’s voice rang loudly round the downstairs of the house and Jake gave a groan. “Come on, you promised!”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” He grumbled. “But that was before I was full of ice cream.”

Grace appeared, and strode straight over the sofa where Jake was sprawled, his head laying on Stella’s lap. “You said after the film you’d play.”

“You did.” Stella nodded. Jake looked up at her, his eyes narrowed before he turned to Grace.

“Shorty, Imma puke if you make me play Twister.”

“You didn’t even eat that much!” Grace folded her arms, her face arranged in an expression so similar to her mother’s that Jake couldn’t help but snort.

“You look like your mom when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Glare at me.”

“Well stop being a douchebag and I won’t glare at you.”

At that Jake stilled and his head whipped to Stella who was laughing. “Did she…” he turned to Grace, “did you seriously just call me a douchebag?”

“Yup.”

“Rude.” Jake sniffed as he pushed himself up with a sigh. “Fine, but half an hour maximum. Your mom will murder me if you stay up much later.”

“It’s the Christmas holidays!” Grace pouted.

“Yeah, but she told me not to feed you junk and have you in bed by 8:30. So far we’ve had pizza, an entire bag of jelly beans and a pint of ice cream.”

“Exactly,” Grace shrugged, “might as well completely ignore her.”

Stella laughed and Jake looked at her, “not helping, Stelly.”

“She has a point.” Stella shrugged.

“You’re not the one that’s gonna get it in the neck when Jane and Rob get home!” Jake whined, “babe, back me up here!”

Stella looked at him, then to Grace. It was a well-worn joke in the Jensen family that everyone in it seemed to pay more attention to Stella than Jake, even when they hadn’t been together. Normally on account of the fact she was the grown up in the relationship. And Jensen’s niece was no exception.

“Your Uncle Jake is right.” She spoke softly. “We’ve had a lot of fun, so half an hour and then it’s time to go to bed, okay?”

Grace pouted before she sighed, “okay, fine. But will I see you tomorrow?”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Stella shook her head, “I have to go see Rey before she goes to Richard’s parents, but me and my mom are going to your nanna and Grampy’s for Christmas Dinner so you’ll see us then.”

Jake smiled as he watched Stella reasoning with Grace. All in all, this would be the first Christmas they’d spent together in a long while. What had once been the norm had changed when he and Stella had split up the first time, and as for last year, well, the less said about that the better. Whilst their reunion hadn’t been the cleanest, or most romantic given how it had all gone down, but here they were. And Jensen was both glad and grateful that this time he wouldn’t have to watch his girl kissing anyone else at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Fuck Agent Shit Name

The bastard made his skin crawl and without another thought, he shoved the bastard to the dark file in the back l of his mind. He wasn't about to ruin a second holiday for Jensen, nor his first back with Stella.

Grace excitedly pulled the game from its box as Stella and Jake moved furniture. Each kicked their shoes off and allowed Grace to spin first.

"Left hand, yellow," she called out.

Everyone found a yellow circle and placed their left hand on it.

"This should be interesting," Jake scoffed with a smirk.

Grace spun again and giggled, "Right hand, red!"

It was going to get limber really quick at this rate. And before they knew it, Jake was out after failing to reach around Stella for a foot on green and down he went. Stella nearly lost her balance laughing at the dramatic Jensen and his tense features as he attempted and failed to fit on the green circle while Grace reigned supreme in balance.

“I forgot how atrocious your hand-eye coordination is,” Stella peeked up at him from between her legs, “not to mention your balance.”

“You weren’t complaining about my hand eye coordination last night.” Jake shot back as he rolled off the mat and lay on his back on the carpet to the side of it. Stella snorted as Jake turned his face to her with a grin.

“You can flick!” Grace called and Jensen’s smirk grew even wider.

“Do not say whatever is in your head.” Stella warned him and he laughed, giving the spinner a good turn with his fingers.

“Okay, left hand, red.”

Grace and Stella giggled as they tried to wind themselves around one another and balance. The way Stella's body bent and swayed had Jake's mind completely elsewhere as he watched.

“Jake!” Stella called and he blinked and looked at her.

“Yeah?”

“Spin again!” She met his gaze as she mouthed ‘pervert’.

Jake’s dopey grin grew even more as he did as asked. “Right foot blue.”

Grace toppled and as she wound her hand under Stella, down she went, granting Stella the win.

With a victorious cheer, Stella leaned back on her hands and then with a quick movement, rolled her spine back along the floor before using her core to arch back and propel herself forward into a stand.

Jesus Christ, Jake thought, shifting in his seat to hide the growing boner he was quickly sporting. "Alright, bed time!"

“Oh, come oooooon!” Grace tried again, and when Jake shook his head she changed tact, “you know you’re my favourite Uncle…”

“Hmmm, nice try. See, as you always remind me, I’m your only uncle.”

“Yeah, so you’re clearly my favourite, dur.”

Jake blinked and groaned, his head tipping back as he looked at the ceiling. “I’m not getting sassed by a seven year old…”

“I’m like eight in three months!”

“Yeah and that makes me like twenty years older than you, and I’m in charge, so scram. Bed!”

"Dude!"

"No!"

"Come on," Stella chuckled, "let's go get your pyjamas on and brush your teeth." Her hand gently pushed Grace towards the stairs with a glance back at Jake, "I'm sure your favorite and ONLY uncle wouldn't mind cleaning up and moving the furniture back by himself."

Jake saluted Stella sarcastically and she laughed as she follows a still grumbling Grace out of the room.

When Jake finished, he took the stairs two at a time to find Grace in bed and Stella reading to her. She was just starting T'was the Night Before Christmas and whilst they were distracted, he leaned into the doorway to listen.

Whilst he and Stella hadn’t been back together all that long, there’d never been another girl who’d held his heart the way she did. He’d fucked up, ending things a few years back for reasons he now realised were flawed. But she’d given him another chance and this was it as far as he was concerned. As he watched her softly reading and smiling to his niece, he couldn’t help but think about her doing that with their own little girl in the hopefully not too distant future.

"Uncle Jake! Don't be creepy!" Grace giggled as she spotted him.

“I’m not… what…why am I being creepy?” He scoffed.

"You're just standing there... Staring."

"Come finish the book, Jakey," Stella smiled softly.

“I dunno, am I not too creepy? Won’t I freak you out?” He teased as he headed into the room and Grace rolled her eyes.

“Grampy says you’re a sarcastic, little shit.”

"He's not wrong," Stella snorted, "but don't say shit."

Jake playfully frowned and jumped into bed, snatching the book from Stella. "Now where were we?"

“Well, if you lost the page, you’re gonna have to start over.” Grace shrugged.

Jake laughed, "fine."

Grace grinned knowing she just got her extra half hour effortlessly, not that Jake wasn't going to extend it anyway.

Stella simply shook her head as she stood up. “I’ll leave you to it. Night Gracie, see you Christmas Day.”

"Night, Stella!" Grace smiled brightly and tucked herself into Jake's side.

****

Fifteen minutes later, Jake was footing down the stairs to find Stella near the fire, cozied up on the couch.

“She asleep?” Stella asked, looking over her shoulder as he wandered into the room.

"Out cold before his belly shook like a bowl full of jelly," Jensen vaulted over the couch and plopped next to her, instinctively wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“Good. Only an hour and a half past her bedtime, not a bad effort.”

"Meh," Jake smirked, pressing his lips to her temple, "I'm her favorite, I can't say no. Might lose my title."

Stella laughed, “you’re a sucker for her. And her for you. You know, even if you weren’t her only Uncle, I still think you’d be her fave.”

"Hope so." Jake said softly, now leaning back into the cushion, Stella snuggled into his chest.

“Are you coming with me to see Rey and Rick tomorrow or are you staying home?” Stella asked.

“And miss a chance to piss Dick off? No way, babe.”

"So that's a yes," she chortled, "got it."

“Annoying your sister and her prick husband is like my favourite pass time.”

"And my holiday entertainment." She turned to look at him. Stella was silent for a moment. "I love you."

Jake smiled, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, before his hand cupped her cheek. The lights from the tree were twinkling slightly and dancing across her deep, blue eyes. “I love you too.”

"How much time we got before Jane gets home?" Stella said lowly, a rasp to her voice.

“Why? Wanna play a round of naked twister?”

"Something like that," Stella closed the gap between them, her lips pressing into Jake's.

“I don’t think,” Jake broke the kiss and pecked her lips, “they’re gonna be that long.”

"Then we should probably make this quick." Stella said against his lips.

“I can do that.”

His mouth slanted back over hers, the kiss deep as he shifted a little, guiding her down so she lay flat on the couch.

Jake carried his lips over her jaw and down her neck, one hand's fingers curled around that curve in her waist while the other balanced himself over her.

Stella’s hands gently slid round his back, her right continuing up his shoulder and then over the short hair at the back of his neck. Her fingernails raked over his scalp as they tangled lightly in the longer, bleach blond spikes on top of his head.

Jake shuddered and nipped at that tender spot that always made Stella keen. "Get these off," he panted.

His hand playfully tugged at the waistband of her jeans and Stella sighed.

“I can’t when you’re led over me, can I?”

Jake snorted and bolted upright, "better?" He worked at his own denims, his jingle of a belt buckle bouncing off the walls and into their ears, the crackle of the fire in the background.

Stella grinned as she raised her hips, making quick work of the button, before she shoved her jeans down along with her panties.

Jake pulled them the rest of the way and dropped them to the floor near his foot. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he was back over her, causing her to giggle as he nipped at her ear.

"I love watching you bend like that, Stelly." He crooned, testing her with his fingers and groaning at how wet she already was. "That was fast," he snorted while his fingers dipped in her one more before coating the head of his freed cock with her slick.

“Bend, what are you-fuck!” Her train of thought was cut off as he pushed into her, groaning as he bottomed out.

"Fuck," Jake moaned. He stilled and waited for her to wrap her legs around his hips. When she did, he felt the space he filled tighten around him. His balls tingled just a little and he could feel her squeeze him.

"Move, Jensen," Stella whined, "fuck, please."

“Yes, Ma’am…” Jake pulled back a little, before he trust into her again.

“You do know we’re the same- rank!” She gasped in between her words as his hips sped up a little, “no need to ma’am me!”

"Shut up, Stella," Jake grunted as he felt enveloped by her warmth, his ruts deep but calculated, hitting that spot only he knew about from years of memory.

“I love it when you get all pissy.” She squeaked a little as he added a naughty, slow grind, rolling his hips against hers.

"Stella..."

"Right there, Jake," she moaned. "I'm close, Jakey."

“Yeah?” He choked a little on his words as he felt her hands slip down into the back of his boxers which still covered his ass. Her nails curled into the flesh of his cheeks as he flexed forward and back, over and over.

As if she was trying for him to fill every inch he could stuff in her, despite more left, she pushed on his ass as she squeezed.

Jake grunted, the feeling of his girl around him was heavenly. “Fuck, you feel so good, Stelly. Real good.”

"Oh Jakey," Stella mewled. "I need, I'm gonna.... Ohhh."

She tightened around him like a vice and Jake gave another’s grunt as her grip on his ass tightened. He kept going, as Stella sagged bonelessly into the couch beneath him.

Chasing his end, Jake exploded inside her, "Stelly," he moaned as he came, his body melted over hers.

The pair of them lay still, the sounds of the tv filling the room as Jake buried his face in Stella’s neck, a soft sigh escaping him.

"Feelin' good, JJ?"

Jensen chuckled a little, “you always make me feel good, babe.” His voice was muffled by her skin, and Stella could feel how his glasses were now sat skewed across his nose.

They hadn't even noticed when the keys jingled in the door or the pop of cold air that had come in but what they did catch was the crisp tone of Jake's sister's voice.

"On my couch? Really?!"

“Jane! Oh-shit, fuck!” Jensen jerked back and in the melee that ensued, toppled sideways off the couch.

Stella hastily grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the sofa as Jane slammed the door to the living room shut as Rob, Jensen’s brother law, howled with laughter.

"I thought my days of walking in on you were over!" Jane hissed through the closed door.

“You didn’t walk in on us, technically we had finished so you-“

“Shut up, Jake.” Stella elbowed him as she pulled her jeans back on.

“Right… shutting up…”

As Jake rebuckled his belt he turned to Stella, who was now busy fluffing her hair out.

“Hey, Stel?”

She looked at him, her eyebrow arched as he grinned. “Stelly Christmas, babe!”

She blinked, and gave him a withering look, “you’re a moron."

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Day 13: Lucas Lee (Scott Pilgrim v The World)

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader

Part 4/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 5

content warning. age gap, mention of sex, mild breeding kink if you squint, afab reader, profanity, slight angst, unrequited love, nobara being a supportive friend, mentions of domestic toji

This is part four of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.5k words

What can I say, I live to please. Besides..." "You ain't seen nothin' yet." 4:03 am is what the clock read by the time you had settled into your bed for some much needed, actual sleep. Toji had thoroughly fucked you over nearly every surface in your house that night, leaving no part of you untouched. By the third round, you had nearly lost all feeling in your legs and angry bruises were spotting the surface of your neck, thighs, and hips, the occasional hickey littering your chest. That didn't seem to stop the two of you from going another two rounds after that. What surprised you even more than his stamina, was the fact that he lay beside you in your bed, arm lazily draped over you as he slept silently. In all honesty, you had expected him to leave the moment he was done with you, recalling him saying at some point that this was just him throwing you a line, a simple no-feelings-attached fling to get your mind off the mistake you'd made the night before. For the most part, it worked, but some part of you felt disgusted with yourself for what transpired. When you woke up in the morning, Toji was gone. He had the courtesy to at least plug your phone in and place it on your bedside table, as well as lock your front door. How did he do that? Not seeing your phone for more than twenty-four hours meant you had a lot of messages and calls to catch up with, your chest squeezing slightly seeing that the most recent one had been a missed call and text at 2:47 am. It was from Megumi. By that point in the night, you were sure Toji had you bent over the railing on your balcony, but it was all hazy by this point. That same part of you that felt guilty for what, or rather who, you'd been doing all night is the part of you that texted Nobara first. Incoming call... "Nobara Kugisaki" "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, BITCH?!" Nobara screeched into the line, causing you to hold the phone at an arms length away as she hurled several choice insults at you. "We thought you were dead, no one's been in contact with you since you and Megumi left the bar," She chastised once she managed to calm down. "I know, I'm sorry. Some shit happened and... promise to keep a secret?" You whispered into the line, as if someone might be listening. You trusted Nobara with your life, Yuuji too but that boy couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. So you entrusted your drunken mistake with your mutual best friend to her, and her only. "I was wondering when he was gonna make a move," She sounded so nonchalant, as if everyone but you had expected this. "He's had a thing for you ever since our last year of high school. You didn’t know?" Her words made your stomach churn. Megumi had been secretly pining for years, and you went and fucked his dad. "That still doesn't explain where you've been since you got home, did you go into a coma?" "I was... busy." Nobara gasped, your name falling from her lips in shock. "No shit. Rebound, who was it?" You both loved and loathed that she could see through you so easily. You two couldn't keep anything from each other. How could you tell her this without making it sound as bad as it actually was? "He brought my phone over, and I was just in a really bad place emotionally..." The line was silent. "It was his dad. It was Toji." Unsurprisingly to you, Nobara was more intrigued than disgusted, considering anyone and everyone that went to the Fushiguro household thirsted for Megumi's hot, ripped dad. Although she had a lack of interest in men, she asked the obligatory spill the beans, what was it like? It took nearly ten minutes of just you talking to explain everything that happened, in as little detail as possible. "So that man banged you on every piece of furniture you own and turned you into his personal cum-stuffed twinkie?" Don't make it sound so crude. "More or less, yeah." "I don't see whats wrong with that. Just don't let Megumi know, he already hates his dad." You hadn't planned on it. Nobara and you caught up for another minute or two while you got changed, hanging up when she had to leave for her extra curricular classes. Now left with your thoughts, you sighed, wandering into your kitchen aimlessly. You cursed every couple steps because holy shit your legs hurt. Deciding it was too straining to stand, you sat at your kitchen island, your head in one hand as the other held your phone, your conversation with Megumi opened. [10:20pm]Gumi: I'm sorry.

[10:22pm]Gumi: There were better times to tell you how I feel, this is my fault.

[11:09pm]Gumi: You're the most important person in my life. Just know that no matter how you feel, I'll always be here.

[2:47am Missed call]

[2:47am]Gumi: I'll give you your space. Take care of yourself, please.

Shaky fingers hovered over the keyboard of your phone, nausea building up in your gut. You were about to put your phone down, leave it for later, before the three dots popped up, letting you know he was typing. He must've seen your read receipts.

[. . .]

[9:56am]Gumi: Thank god you're safe

[9:57am]Gumi: Can I call?

The call notification popped up before you could even send the message you'd typed out.

Incoming call... "Gumi Bear"

Your thumb hovered over answer, hesitating for just a moment before answering and bringing the phone up to your ear. You could hear the concern in his voice when he whispered your name into the receiver, a guilty knot twisting in your gut. "You don't have to say anything, I was just worried about you." There was a click on the other end, followed by some rustling. "You left so quickly, I was gonna come bring your phone but... it was probably best that I gave you some space. When my dad didn't come home I assumed it's 'cause he couldn't find you." A long sigh came from him, but your brows furrowed. Toji still wasn't home? The sound of your balcony door sliding open made you jump out of your skin, having to slap a hand over your mouth to prevent from screaming right into the receiver. From the phone you could hear Megumi calling your name, hearing the sudden commotion, completely unaware of the brief staring contest you had with the tall man stopped mid-step into your house, cigarettes and lighter in one of his hands, the balcony handle in the other. Both your eyes were wide, seeming to surprise each other. Had he been out there this entire time? "H...Hey, sorry, I... a spider, I saw a huge spider and it scared me." Mentally face-palming at your sorry excuse for your outburst. Toji seemed to find it entertaining as well, chuckling to himself as he slid the door closed. Megumi was silent for a moment, but ultimately accepted the explanation. He continued, promising he'd only take a minute of your time. You couldn't hear anything he was saying over the pounding of your heart as it leapt in your throat, watching Toji slide his shoes off and stride over to the kitchen, the flat of his palm brushing the small of your back as he passed by. "Let's just forget this happened, we can start over. Okay?" His voice dropped in tone, obviously hurt by the decision. "I think... I'd like that, yeah." There was a brief silence. "Okay, well," Megumi breathed in deeply, "That's all I wanted to say. I'll let you go. Text me if you need anything." A noise of affirmation came from your throat, the line going dead soon after. Small hands placed the phone face down on the countertop, hands overlapping on top of your phone as you stared up at Toji through your lashes. He didn't ask who called. The rest of your morning was spent with Toji, not much was said. It wasn't awkward, it was a surprisingly comfortable silence, for the most part. He'd made coffee and toast, his capabilities of displaying qualities of domesticity surprising you to say the least. The kitchen clock read 1:02 pm when he said he'd be leaving and you walked him to the door. As the two of you stood in the doorway, you found yourself unable to piece together the right words swimming in your head. Toji seemed patient, smirking with his hands stuffed into his sweatpants pockets as he faced you, back to the apartment hallway. "Well, um..." All night, and you decide to be awkward now?! "Thanks for everything, I guess?" You extended a hand, offering it to Toji for a handshake. The action made him snort, one hand coming out of the pocket of his soft cotton pants and placing it in the dip of your waist. Firmly, he tugged you closer to him, leaving a searing kiss on your lips. It was as fiery as it was short. He left you dumbfounded when he parted not a second later, waving as he walked down the hall. "Let's do this again soon."

[nincompoopydoo]

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— CHAMOMILE FOR THE INSOMNIAC ; PART 1 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1952 holy moly

REQUEST: @raineeace I was wondering if you could do a batfleck x reader where they have some type of friends with benefits relationship but both want to be together so they end up being more cute and awkward?

SUMMARY: You and Bruce’s relationship resides in a gray area between friends and friends that sleep together but the two of you have been pining over each other ever since the agreement began.

WARNINGS: To the victorians users, mentions of the reader and batfleck in the same bed (*gasp*) and being really touchy (in the most pg way possible) and something that’s more than two friends cuddling along the lines.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

All you could do is stare at the ceiling, eyes tracing the yellow glow of the low light, cascading across the blank, white concrete above you. Your eyes are weary, but your racing mind keeps you awake as you listen to every breath you heave and the light snores coming from beside you. Rolling over to your side, you were met with the sight of a sleeping Bruce—furrowed eyebrows and mouth partially agape. You watched the rise and fall of his chest with each inhale and exhale and how his left brow twitches every now and then. Bruce never truly looked at peace, even while he slept.

You replay the entire day in your head; from coming home from an agitating day at work and the text, you had gotten from Bruce, asking if you could come over at 11 PM to when he called you a good friend because you came even though it was so late. The two of you being friends was anything but complicated but your heart had other plans. Now, there’s a constant burning in your gut with every gaze you hold with Bruce and every touch of his gentle hands against your skin. He’s a puzzling man; it’s no surprise that your emotions are becoming even more entangled with every second spent with him.

Minutes passed, or it could have been hours; you’re not exactly sure how long you spent staring at Bruce while he slept. Maybe it was out of admiration or jealousy because he could sleep and you can’t even get yourself to close your eyes. They feel like they’re burning every time you try to close them. Just then, he shifts under the sheets, one hand now tucked under the pillow below his head, still asleep. It’s dark, but it’s enough for you to barely make out the flutter of his eyes open. You quickly turn away to lie on your back and force your eyes shut, not wanting to get caught staring almost creepily at your friend.

“Are you watching me sleep?” You hear Bruce mumble from beside you. Well, shit. You open your eyes, and you’re back to staring at the ceiling. “No,” you whisper like it’s obvious although you’re lying; you don’t turn to look at him, but you know he’s very well staring at you. Bruce chuckles lightly and you hear the rustling of the sheets once more. He reaches across to lay his hand on the curve of your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He knows you’re awake. There’s no point in pretending now.

“Can’t sleep?” he queried raspily. You hum in response, tearing your eyes away from the ceiling to him. Your hands clutch the edge of the pillowcase, clinging to it like it’s the only thing that’s keeping you together as Bruce watches you through half-lidded eyes. A moment passes, and he doesn’t say anything. He just...watches you; like he’s trying to read your mind. Panic ensues within you. A part of you is afraid he can read your thoughts at that exact moment although you knew it was impossible but the fear still creeps on you. The fear of Bruce knowing that in that very moment, you take in every detail, every inch of his face, wishing you could be with him without an aching sensation in your chest. Yet, another part of you wishes he would merely read your thoughts so that you could get out of this agonizing position of a rather controversial relationship you have gotten yourself into with a bloody billionaire. Controversial in a sense that you realized you’re starting to see the man, whose bed you lie on, more than a best friend. Heck, you don’t even know if you’re best friends—it’s more of a grey area between friendship and bosom buddies.

But do friends sleep with each other? That's a question you can’t answer for certain and probably never will.

Seconds pass, and the ticking of the clock makes you tick even more. The bed doesn’t feel comfortable anymore, and you’re starting to feel clammy under the sheets. Finally, you bring yourself to look away and sit up, head against the headboard. His eyes are open, almost fully but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches you with a quizzical look. You rub your face, pushing back the mess of your hair. “My head’s pounding so I’m...going to make some tea. Chamomile or something,” you say with your eyes shut, waving a hand in the air weakly. “Do you want some? Earl Grey maybe?” Without thinking, your hand find it’s way to his, fingers pressed against his forearm. Bruce’s look is soft at your touch, but you don’t see it. The way you already knew his favorite type of tea—strong and intense, and how you naturally reach for his touch with affection. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even in the dark. Bruce loves that about you.

Bruce had a knack of being silent, but it’s caught you off guard and it’s starting to become overwhelming. Then, you feel his other hand clasped on yours and for a split second, there’s fire soaring in you. Your gaze returns to him, smiling ever so slightly. Your stomach does another leap. “No, it’s alright. But, thank you.” Bruce mutters, voice still hoarse with sleep. Your eyes shift to his hand on yours, memorizing the way it feels to be holding hands with Bruce. It’s intimate, and you’re beginning to feel hot. Heat swells in your cheeks when the two of you realize the growing tension in the air. You slipped your hand away, and he clears his throat, shifting to lay on his back instead. “Get some sleep, idiot,” you say as you swing your legs over the edge of the back, slipping out of under the sheets easily. You hear a low chuckle as you padded towards the kitchen.

-

The sound of a loud slam jerks you awake, tired eyes now wide open. Panic is the first emotion you feel, heart thumping so hard against your chest. You find yourself sitting on a couch as your eyes begin to adjust to your surroundings, skirting across the expense of what you slowly recognize to be Bruce's home. You hear a sputter of curses to your left and you catch sight of the very man at the front door, fumbling a paper bag. You exhale tightly, hand on your chest as he turns to you, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "I'm so sorry," He’s cradling the paper bag in his arms, lingering by the door. You leaned back into the couch, rubbing your face as you waved your other hand dismissively. "It's fine," you croak out, noticing the throw blanket on your lap. You don't remember that being there. Hell, you don't even remember falling asleep in the first place.

Shifting in his stance, still by the door, his arms nearly give way as he struggles to steady the paper bag once more. Your laugh comes out more like a puff of air. "You know, you should be putting that on the table." There's a crackle in your voice, annoyed albeit amused. Bruce blinks and then clears his throat once. Then, twice. "Right," he mutters, moving towards the dining table in a hurried manner.

You watch him open the bag, and the smell of savory fills the air. He lifts a bagel from the bag, packed in a bagel holder, looking absolutely divine. Your stomach silently rumbles. "I got you a bagel," he speaks plainly and you raised your eyebrows, a smile enveloping your face. Bruce's eyes connect with yours, and he can't help but mirror your expression—softness and something unknown. Affection? He doubts it. "Wait, really?" Your heart soars and you're reminded how handsome Bruce is. Frankly, it was a simple gesture; it's just bagel after all. Yet, on the other end of the spectrum, it's a big deal. He has never done this for you. He's never gotten anything for you in fact. Maybe, it's because you always left before he even woke up.

You eye him as he ambles your way, bagel in hand. Then, he's standing by the foot of the couch with an outstretched arm as he hands you the bagel. "Yes, really." Maybe, it’s all in your mind; you entirely blame it on the lack of sleep. Yet, the way his fingers brush against yours when you grab the bagel from his grasp, it’s like everything changed overnight. Except, nothing happened overnight.

Other than, you know—

You shoot him a teasing smirk. “Have you gotten soft, Bruce?”

Bruce spares you a deadpan look, index finger outstretched towards you as he lifts his mug from the table. “Hey, don’t go there.” You snort and turn your attention to the baked goodness in your hands. With a bite, your complicated feelings for your friend are once again shoved to the back of your mind as you focus on the smoothness of the cream cheese and the crisp of the bagel itself. You don’t see how Bruce hints the softest smile ever as he watches you literally delve into that once bagel.

He should have bought two of those.

Without even thinking, he naturally finds his way to you and settles beside you. He’s very close to you, hips bumping against each other but it’s not like you’ve never been this close to Bruce before. Well, at least not during the day when the two of you are wide awake. You and Bruce sit in silence—you chewing on the last few pieces of your bagel as he casually sips on his coffee, the both of you staring into space.

The air shifts and then tension returns once more.

“How’s your head?” He breaks the silence, watching you just like last night and you’re beginning to feel light-headed. Well, it was alright before but now it’s back. Thanks to Bruce. You shrug, not daring to spare him a single look. “It’s alright.” He nods, taking another sip of his coffee. Every time he looks elsewhere, he finds his gaze returning to you and to be frank, you’re truly an endearing sight for sore eyes. Especially in this moment. Your hair glowing against the sunlight, settled deep into the cushions as you chewed on your last bite. He prefers you during the day, under the sun—It substantiates the fact you’re real and not just someone who turns up for late night rendezvous.

Right, last night. He feels bad for calling you, but he couldn’t get you off his mind.

“Hey, uh, thank you for coming in so late...I’m really sorry about that. Won’t happen again,” he confides, affection glinting in his eyes, “I owe you one.”

You offer him a small smile, eyes tracing his face.

Bruce is just so handsome.

You wave him off, along with your running thoughts before you start overthinking the last four words he just said to you. “It’s fine. You don’t have to. This gorgeous bagel is really more than enough.” There’s a fond look as you speak and if he keeps on staring at you like that, you’re gonna have to just leave, and never come back for another week or else, you’re going to jump into the lake. But you like the company and maybe the way he’s sitting casually so close to you, smiling at you, makes you want to kiss him even more. Now, that’s what friends do, right?

So, you stay. Tucked under a throw blanket with Bruce leaning into the couch as the two of you admire the view of the lake over the Wayne estate, truly enjoying each other’s company for once.

[tacticaldiary]

Hi! I love your writing! 💕 I was wondering if I could request a Kageyama x reader where he accidentally neglects the reader and says something overly harsh, but with a happy ending.

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

Here it is! :)

Unintentional Neglect

Pairing: Reader x Kageyama Tobio

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

He doesn’t realise how wrapped up in the world he’s gotten. Now he realises that he’s been neglecting the one thing he calls his world.

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

The quiet click of the door shutting pulls back Y/N from the brink of sleep. Sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she turns towards the door and frowns slowly when she sees him. Leaning back on the couch, she waits for him to enter the living room and spot her. 

Kageyama slips off his shoes and glances at the clock. 11 pm. Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he walks into the living room, a little surprised to see Y/N awake, looking at him expectantly. 

“You didn’t check your phone?” She asks quietly, a little upset that he hadn’t even greeted her. 

He shakes his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket. The screen lights up and his eyes widen a little as he sees the missed calls and text messages. They had started at 6 pm. “I was busy. Can’t really check my phone at practise.” 

“Practise ended at 5, Tobio.” She shakes her head. He had forgotten. “You said you would be here...you forgot, didn’t you?” 

“Forgot?” He asks half-heartedly, moving to place his bag next to one of the tables. He was exhausted, honestly. He had been wrapped up in volleyball for the past several hours, having been practising a new technique with Hinata. He doesn’t recall forgetting anything.

“Yes, forgot. You know how excited I was about this.” She stands up and grabs two rectangular pieces of paper from the table. Moving over to him, he holds them out for him to see. Concert tickets. Y/N had been looking forward to this for months. To think that Kageyama had just...forgotten stung a lot. They hadn’t been seeing each other a lot for the past week, since he was practicing late at night. There had been several occasions where she had to fall asleep and wake up without him. As if he was never there. No one could blame her for starting to feel lonely.

Y/N understood what she was getting herself into when they started dating, she knew volleyball was a priority for him, but she thought that after their whole 3 years of dating, she would hold some importance to him. More than this.

He’s confused for a second, before he spots the tickets. He immediately feels guilty. Y/N would understand, right? She had never complained before, why would she start now? He sighs, tiredly and shakes his head. 

“It’s not a big deal, we can go next time.” He starts walking past her towards their shared room. “Next time?” His dismissal, as if she was overreacting pisses her off. She moves in front of him, blocking his path so he stops in his tracks. He looks at her with an annoyed expression, as if he had been the one to wait up for him. Like he was the one who had spent hours convincing himself that his partner hadn’t forgotten and was just running late. As if he was the one feeling neglected. “Don’t brush this off, Tobio.” A small scowl graces her face. “I waited for you, for hours, but you never showed up!” “Y/N...just-stop.” he brings a hand up to his temple. He really wasn’t in the mood to argue. He just wanted to take a shower and slip into bed and sleep. 

“No! I haven’t seen you at all in the past week and you know how excited I was for this! How could you just...forget?” “I just did. Get over it. It wasn’t anything important.” He snaps, bringing his hand down to his side and glaring at her. His reaction only makes her more furious. Why was he the one getting mad at her?

“That’s not the point!” She exclaims loudly. “You just- you’re so caught up in everything it just seems like you don’t have time for me anymore...”

“You know I have to practise and-” “I do know! I’m the one who waits up for you, who makes sure there’s something in the microwave if you’re hungry when you come home!” She raises her voice, frustrated. Tears prickle the corner of her eyes. “I’m the one who has to be alone and miss you and-”

“I never asked for you to do any of those things!” He raises his voice to overpower her’s, a scowl on his face. “Maybe if you weren’t so goddamn clingy all the time, you would be fine!” He yells. 

There's a beat of silence. “I’m not-” her voice is quieter.

“You are- you don’t have to be with me 24/7, Y/N. You’re acting like you’ll die if you don’t have my attention for a few hours. It’s pathetic.” He scoffs, not thinking about what he’s actually saying. He’s tired and irritable and would rather be anywhere but here.

Silence. The silence is tense. After a few seconds, where both of them are trying to catch their breath, a ripping sound cuts through the emptiness. Y/N throws the pieces of the ticket at him and walks straight past him towards their room, leaving him alone, standing there. 

Kageyama grits his teeth and shakes his head. He’s never been one to deal with situations like this calmly. It wasn’t a big deal.

Needless to say, when he steps into their room after showering, he’s shocked to see Y/N crying into her pillow, her small sniffles being muffled by the fabric. He was never good with handling people crying. A wave of guilt washes over him when he realises he's the cause of her tears. Moving over to sit on the other side of the bed, he reaches over and places a hand on her shoulder, to which Y/N tenses. 

“Forget it.” She says, before he can. Her voice is hollow and bitter and it makes him nearly wince. “I get it. I’ll try not to be so overbearing.”

There’s silence, then she hears the bed creak as he lays down and tugs on her shoulder to roll her over to face him. She sighs and lets him, letting out a small squeak of surprise when he pulls her into his chest. 

“I’m sorry for yelling...and forgetting.” he mutters into her hair, to which she nods quietly. Having time to think about it, he feels like shit for making her cry and acting like he did, but he can’t think properly right now, sleep clouding his mind. They’re both pulled to unconsciousness a few quiet minutes later. 

When Kageyama wakes up, Y/N is gone. It’s the weekend, so they usually slept in late and woke up together, so he was a little confused. 

When he walks into the kitchen, he sees Y/n drinking a cup of coffee at the dining table, scrolling through her phone. She greets him with a smile, but makes no move towards him. 

“Good morning!” She says in her usual morning chipper voice. 

“Morning.” He yawns, moving to get his own cup of caffeine.

They had agreed to meet a couple of their friends for lunch that day...and Kageyama could not be more frustrated throughout the whole outing. It had started in the car, when he parked in the parking lot and leaned over to steal a kiss from Y/N, who promptly leaned away and got out of the car. Frowning, he had brushed it off and followed suit. She hadn’t held his hand or looped an arm around his like she usually did.

Then, instead of slipping into the seat next to him like she usually would, Y/N had opted to sit next to Tsukishima of all people. She had barely acknowledged him the whole time, shooting him the occasional glance when he talked. When he leaned over to grab her hand, she had squeezed it once and let go quickly, snaking her hand in front of her instead. It was frustrating. It was like she was avoiding him on purpose.

The car ride back was silent, but them actually reaching home was even worse. Instead of pulling him to the couch to cuddle and maybe watch a movie like she usually did, Y/N immediately starts getting...ready?

“Where are you going?” he inquires, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom, where she was fussing over her shirt. 

“Out with some friends...to a concert.” She says the last part quietly. “They refunded my tickets and I didn’t have anyone to ask, so my friends offered to go with me.” she gives him a small smile. 

“You could have asked me.” “I did.” She says a little too quickly, her eyes darting to meet his in the mirror she was looking in. “If you remember that-”

“I do-”

“-I didn’t want to assume you’d want to go with me.” She says simply grabbing her bag, and turning to look at him. She’d have to get past him to leave. Her statement catches his attention and he furrows his eyebrows. 

“What? Why wouldn’t I want to go with you?” 

She shrugs. 

“Y/N...” He pushes himself off the doorframe. “You’ve been acting strange all day.” “Isn’t that what you wanted?” a small scowl creeps up her face. 

“I-...What do you mean?” he frowns.

“Forget it.” she shakes her head, moving to get past him, but stops with a huff when he blocks her path.

“Why would I want you to act like that, act so...distant?”

“Tobio, it’s nothing, just drop it.”

“It’s obviously something. You’ve never pushed me away like this before-”

“It’s better than being clingy, isn’t it?” She finally exclaims. “You don’t get to complain now. Not when I’m trying to be better.”

“What are you talking about?” Suddenly, she wants to punch something, frustration bubbling up inside her. “You say you don’t like me being clingy, but then act like this and ask why I’m not doing what you told me not to do! Make up your mind, Tobio, because I’m not going to be ‘pathetic’ any longer.” 

Pathetic? She wasn’t....shit. Last night’s conversation comes crashing back down on him. 

He takes in a shaky breath. “You’re not pathetic, Y/N” he says quietly, to which Y/N shakes her head. 

“Actually, according to you-”

“I’m sorry.” he blurts out, cutting her off. In three strides, he has his hands on her shoulders, looking at her with a certain urgency in his eyes. “I didn’t mean anything I said last night, I swear.” When she still looks dubious, he continues. “I was tired and-and irritated and I took it out on you and I apologise.”

He hates Y/N being this distant. He missed touching and hugging her. “I miss you.” he admits. 

There’s a second of silence. “You do?”

“Obviously.” he scoffs a little. “Oh...I thought you’d be happier if I wasn’t there all the time.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” he pulls her into a hug to which she relaxes. “I apologise.”

She hums, not being used to him showing affection thi blatantly. It felt nice. “It just feels like...sometimes you don’t have time for me, that the your so caught up in everything that I don’t even matter anymore...”

His grip tightens. “I didn’t mean to neglect you like that. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He mumbles into her hair.

“It better not.” She says, sighing when they start to sway gently. 

He would try his best to be there. For Y/N.

Requests are Open and Appreciated!

[motelgirl]

Nothing to Lose- Aldo Raine x Fem!Reader

Request: @inglourious-imagines

Prompts 11, 33, 40 of @inglourious-imagines list :)

I didn’t really know whether to do something angsty or not for this, but i’m not a huge fan of writing angst myself so I decided against it. Sorry it took so long but i’m finally back on it and will be posting regularly again soon. Hope you enjoy it <3 Sorry it’s so short by the way.

Y/n Y/l/n and Aldo Raine. Back in Tennessee, the two had been inseparable ever since they where children. If you saw one, you knew the other wasn’t far behind. They joined the army together, however what they didn’t know is that they would have been deployed in completely separate countries. That’s why when the news got through to Y/n that she was required for Lieutenant Raine’s group, she was more than ecstatic.

Y/n trudged through the rainy night in Paris. She had been dropped in the city just half an hour before and told the name of the hotel she was to rendezvous with the party. Now she was miserable, tired and hopelessly lost. Just when she was about to give in and continue her mission in the morning, she saw a wooden sign with the name of the hotel illuminated by a gas lamp in the distance. She grinned to herself, walking speedily towards it.

The door opened, ringing a bell above. A bald man of around forty looked up from the bar, his eyes following the girl as she smiled at him and greeted him with a simple ‘bonjour’ to which he returned, before she walked up the stairs on the hunt for room three. It wasn’t hard to find it as she heard the all too familiar voice from behind the wooden door.

“She’ll be here in a second, it’s dark out there maybe she lost her bearings,”

Y/n decided this was her cue and pushed on the unlocked door. Immediately, her eyes went towards the only two men awake, sat at the table in the middle of the room. She couldn’t conceal the huge smile on her face at the sight of her old friend. On instinct, she pulled the now standing man into a hug. He let out a light ‘oof’ noise at the unexpected contact, before smiling, rubbing the girls back. They pulled apart and Aldo looked towards the other man in the room, his hand now draped over Y/n’s shoulder.

“Y/n, this is Donny Donowitz, you might know him better as the Bear Jew. Donny, this is Y/n Y/l/n, one of the greatest fighters the Basterds will have. Guaranteed.”

The girl threw Donny one of her charming grins as he stood up and shook her hand. His eyes darted between Aldo and Y/n, before they landed on his arm on her shoulder.

“Y/n Y/l/n! The girl i’ve heard so much about. You know, ever since we met, Aldo hasn’t stopped talking about you,” he smirked, sitting back down in his seat. Y/n followed, placing herself in the spare chair around the table as Aldo sat where he previously was.

“Oh really?” She laughed quietly, trying to keep her voice down as she noticed the rest of the men around her and in the other room sleeping.

“Says you’re the best girl he ever known. I’ve never seen him even lay eyes on another girl before,” Donny continued. Judging by the empty bottle on the table, Y/n could tell Donny had a bit to drink beforehand and maybe she should take this information with a pinch of salt. However when her eyes met Aldo’s, who was glaring daggers into Donny, she realised maybe it was true.

“Anyway, we got a mission tomorrow night, but I’m sure you’ve been told. Nice to meet you Y/n, I’m off to bed,” Donny smiled at the girl who returned a slightly amused one back before watching him leave the room. She was left sat at the table with her old friend.

Standing up without a word, she slowly made her way to the balcony on the side of the building, closely followed by Aldo, who’s eyes hadn’t left her since she entered the room. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and offered it to Aldo, who accepted. The pair stood in silence on the balcony.

“I’ve missed you, you know. Life just wasn’t the same without having you around to annoy the shit out of me, I gotta say,” Aldo broke the silence. Hearing this, Y/n let out that angelic laugh that he had spent years imagining, trying to recreate in his head. Nothing compared to the real thing.

“So,” she paused, thinking of the right words to say, “what did Donny mean?” Her eyes looked at his with innocent curiosity. He watched as she flicked her cigarette butt over the side of the balcony.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. ‘The best girl he ever known’” She quoted the man. He looked at her unimpressed as she sat on the chair perched on the corner of the balcony, crossing her legs and leaning her head on her hand. “Is he lying?”

For just a moment, when he looked at her, he felt all his defences go down. He felt the way he did about her before the war, when they where still living the simple life in Tennessee. Bootlegging moonshine, running from the law and laughing their asses off most of the time. Back then, the two moved into their own tiny house in the smoky mountains when Y/n ran away from her house at seventeen. Being deployed in different countries for god knows how long may have hurt Y/n, but she didn’t know it hurt Aldo ten times more.

“Donny ain’t a liar.” The simple sentence caused a cheeky grin to make its way onto Y/n’s face. “Oh God, why you looking at me like that. I ain’t seen that smile for years,” he joked, however seeing her after all these years made him feel a way that, in the most cliche way possible, he had never felt when she wasn’t around.

“I’m never letting go of the fact you think i’m the best girl you’ve ever known,” she continued to grin up at the man. He shook his head, turning back away from her and looking out at the Parisian skyline.

“Do you ever shut up?” Y/n couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile as he said these words. She waltzed over to him and leaned beside him on the balcony, taking a deep breath and letting out a louder sigh than she was meant to.

“You’d hate it if I shut up I just know it,” she continued to grin at him. Her eyes tried to make contact with his but he continued to look out towards the city.

“No I wouldn’t,” he retorted. The pair where reunited, for that one half an hour slot, they felt like they did before. Unworried, bouncing off each other, joking and making fun of each other and always an underlying feeling that something was going unsaid. She was so desperate to find out what it was.

“Are you trying to start a fight or are you flirting, because to be honest I known you for all my life and I still can’t differentiate the two,” she tried her chances. She hoped deep down that he would choose the second option.

“Well let’s put it this way, I wouldn’t ever wanna start a fight with you,” he found his way around saying it directly, but truth be told he loved the girl and she loved him back. Donny could tell the moment she walked in and he was sure that the rest of the men would feel it in the morning. There was a brief silence as Y/n figured out what he meant. For what felt like the thousandth time that night, she felt that smile grow on her face.

“Well if Donny never lies. Does that mean you actually haven’t laid eyes on a girl?” She was now in extremely close proximity of the man. He didn’t need to reply for her to find out everything she needed to know. “Well, what will you do now I’m here?” Y/n needed answers to her questions, and the best way to get them was to ask directly and straight to the point. In her logic, she’d probably end up dead before the end of the war anyway so what did she have left to lose.

No words exchanged, Aldo took her face into his palms and kissed her. Softly at first, pulling apart only momentarily before she pulled him straight back in, now kissing his harder like it would be her last one ever. She had waited all her life for this moment and now it was finally here she could never let go. I’m a matter of seconds, she went from having nothing to lose to having absolutely everything.

[technicallymilkshakes]

Reciprocal ❂ || 1 of 2

A Manager!verse story Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut (in future chapter) Pairing: Jongin x Reader Word Count: 4.1k No warnings for this chapter, but note that the next one will contain mature content.

Next Chapter >>

Less than two hours outside of Seoul, the night air already seemed easier to breathe. The windows were open and a rain-scented breeze blew in to riffle the top of your hair. Brake lights reflected red on the slick roadside ahead of you before fracturing into ten thousand raindrops against the windshield. This was a Friday night kind of feeling. You felt reckless and emotional, free for the first time in months and brimming with life.

Jongin had told you that he would halfsy the drive. Instead, he was deep asleep in the passenger seat, head slumped sideways, shoes kicked off within minutes of entering the vehicle. Promotions had been particularly brutal this time around. Without the other members to help ease the burden, Kai had to be on at all times. He was charming and dorky and witty—he flourished under all the attention—but it came with a toll. You scheduled PT sessions in any brief moments of respite you could cram then in. He slept wherever and whenever he could and when he couldn't, he drank coffee.

Running point for this solo had been just as taxing for you. Time moved in recordings, photoshoots, and appearances. You'd fall asleep and wake up reviewing the itinerary. Promotions were occurring across a variety of platforms and you spent countless hours researching and breaking down offers, liaising with event managers and security, monitoring press reviews and social media. You were in so deep, you didn't even realize you weren't living until someone else pointed it out. Nine, Baekhyun's manager, encouraged both of you to take a vacation. Pronto. Their experience shepherding Baekhyun through multiple solo albums had been invaluable, so you weren't about to argue.

Besides, you hadn't been to the mountains since your first year of high school.

It had stopped raining by the time you pulled up to your destination. Jongin was already awake, blinking heavily at the sight that greeted him.

The mountain lodge was modern but inviting. The lights were on and they spilled pleasantly out into the night. You turned the car off and stepped out into chilled air enlivened with the sounds of leaves rustling, insects chirping, and nocturnal animals stirring.

Inside, golden wood warmed the open space. The retreat was divided into two levels—living/dining area and one bedroom on the first floor and the master bedroom with a balcony that would be rich with fresh vegetables in the summer on the second.

You looked out on the living room. The designer had impeccable taste. Plush seating with cushions and pillows in sumptuous fabrics curled around a fireplace. Your toes sank into lush, layered carpeting, which bracketed and defined the space. It was comfortable and intimate. You could easily imagine yourself sinking into a chair and nestling in for a nap, lulled into a trance by the fire.

The kitchen gleamed in the opposite corner, all straight lines and modern appliances. And the dining area next to it. Table and chairs had been regally arranged in front of wall-to-wall sliding glass doors that, for now, looked out onto darkness.

But there was one particular feature that had clinched the deal when you booked the place.

“There's a spa bath here,” you said, and suppressed a smile at the soft 'ooh' Jongin let out as he disappeared to investigate.

A quietness settled over you in his wake. There was no wifi here, no work to haunt your waking nor sleeping hours. The other managers were under strict orders not to contact you unless there was an emergency.

You felt oddly vulnerable, stripped of the last vestiges of responsibility holding you together. Listless and exhausted, you climbed upstairs and fell into bed without a thought for anything else.

**

You woke early the next morning, body too used to being tired. You stared at the ceiling for an indeterminable time, thoughts eddying around without any clear distinction, like static noise that only resolved itself into proper words when you concentrated.

You'd been managing Kai for almost five years now. Hard to believe. You loved this, the sense of belonging and the endless opportunities to learn, but the pace was grueling. Five years was a long time. You couldn't imagine how some of the older managers had kept up. You weren't sure how you had kept up. And, if you were being honest, you weren't sure anymore if you should.

But that was too much thinking for this early in the morning. You rolled over in bed and shut your eyes.

After the appropriate amount of indeterminable time had passed, you heaved yourself out of bed. Sleep wasn't coming back for you. Duvet wrapped around your shoulders, you slinked downstairs to find Jongin rummaging around in the cabinets. He spun around, flinching as a drawer clanged shut behind him, then relaxed.

“You too, huh?” he said with a lopsided grin.

You nodded.  It was no surprise to find him here. You were just two bodies too accustomed to being together.

You turned your gaze to the counters. “What are you doing?”

“I was trying to make some coffee.”

He looked wan and tired. One armed wrapped around his middle, the collar of his shirt sunk low enough to expose his collarbones... like he was holding himself together, trying to stay warm.

A sense of fierce protectiveness overcame you. You were both overworked. But at least in this small bubble, this moment in time and space, nothing could hurt him, including himself. No work excuses allowed.

“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” you said, and he gave a weak laugh before getting an armful of duvet shoved at him. “Go sit down, I'll bring it over.”

Jongin stood there a moment staring at you. Under-cabinet lighting slashed over his chest, the rest of him slipping into shadow before he disappeared completely as he pulled the duvet over your head.

You felt a light kick to your backside.

“Hey!” You wrestled with the duvet. “As soon as I get out of this thing...!”

But he was grinning at you when you finally pulled it off, and you felt your urge for vengeance abate far too quickly as your fatigue flared. You still punched him in the shoulder, though.

He pouted, rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh, don't give me those puppy dog eyes. You deserved it.”

“I can make coffee...”

“You can,” you agreed. “With adult supervision. Now get the kettle out.”

**

The sunrise was something pulled from a poet's imagination. The lodge perched along a low ridge and peered down into the valley. Jongin had pulled open the curtains to what only last night had looked out into darkness and now found the world at his door. Together, you watched as the sun spilled over the mountain peaks opposite, then glissaded down powdery slopes to the tree line. The trees across the valley, where the mountains were taller, were still snowcapped, and the first sun rays lit them up like jewelry before setting them aflame with light, their trunks like matchsticks to the fire. Shadows tucked themselves in to sleep at the feet of the brightest places.

Day woke and stretched its radiant fingers across the sky to tangle in the wingtips of greeting birds. And with the sun came some clarity. These last few months had tested your commitment and shaken the bedrock upon which you had built your future. But if everyday the birds could rise and welcome the the newborn morning so lovingly, you thought you could keep trying to find beauty in it, too.

Next to you, Jongin had fallen asleep wrapped in your duvet. You leaned over and tucked his toes in.

**

The village was quaint and small, situated on a scenic one-lane-each-way route that wound through the mountains. The cashier at the grocery store greeted you as you entered. You felt her eyes on your back as you moved through the store.

The cabin came stocked with various dry foods, but you needed to pick up the perishables. Most of the in-season vegetables and fruit had been grown in the area, with little signs detailing farms and their locations. Strawberries, kumquat, apples, wild parsley and chive, and even shepherd's purse laying in baskets, some of which had been foraged from the mountainside just this morning. There was a vibrant freshness to the produce here that you just couldn't find in the city.

You gathered everything you needed, taking no heed of diet restrictions or nutritional value, and went to ring up your purchases. The cashier gave you small smile and talked quietly of some of the hidden gems to visit around here, hands sweeping back and forth over the scanner as she spoke. She had a soft and lilting accent you found pleasant to listen to.

You hid your embarrassment. Was it that obvious you were from out of town? She probably knew from the moment you had stepped inside. Heck, you hadn't worried about fitting in for so long. Over the years, your accent had eroded away against standard Korean and harsh edges of the city. And the boys had been so welcoming. At least she was friendly, though. Soon enough, you were hauling your bags out to the car, but not before thanking the woman for her advice.

**

Jongin was still lying on the couch when you got back, barely awake. Two cold mugs of coffee lay abandoned on the table next to him, one still nearly full. He sat up when you walked in with the bags, frowning.

“You went shopping?”

You heard the missing “without me?” and gave him a calm look. “You were asleep and I needed something to eat for lunch.”

He gathered himself up with a frown, wrapping the duvet around himself just as you had this morning. It already felt like a day ago even though it couldn't be past 11 in the morning. He inspected the bags, pulling them open and poking through them. You watched with amusement between putting the contents of the already-poked-through-bags away.

“What are you, a dog?”

“You got pig bars?!” He pulled out the ice cream, the item cradled in his palms. He looked at you wide-eyed, some mixture of reverence and fright.

“Yes. No chicken either.”

He kept staring down at his hands and you chuckled awkwardly to fill the silence. He opened the ice bar and jumped up onto the counter.

As you put the groceries away and then began making soy bean soup with the shepherd's purse, Jongin remained quiet and watchful. You enjoyed living alone back in Seoul, but you found you didn't mind his company. His presence was comforting—a constant, quiet companion. Not a dog, then. Your lips quirked. A cat.

The kitchen filled with the beat of knife against cutting board, the melody of soft burbling from the pot on the stove. You found yourself slipping back into the rhythm of cooking, like a dancer remembering the steps to an old song.

“What song is that?”

You startled, knife slipping, nicking the knuckle of your middle finger. You hissed, dropping the knife to inspect the cut. “Shit. What?”

Jongin jumped down from the counter, grabbing your hand, apologies tripping themselves over his lips.

“It's fine, it's really shallow, don't worry about it.”

His grip tightened, and his head remained bent low over your hand, examining the cut. “Let me worry,” he said.

So you sat in muteness after washing the cut. He took your hands and dried them with a towel, soft pats and delicate swipes. His eyes would flick up to your face now and again, carefully observing your expression. Sometimes, you would catch him doing it. His lips would arc gently into a smile and you would look away, scalded by the softness of lips and eyes. You stared instead at his fingers. They moved as light as butterflies over you as he applied a bandage.

Jongin lifted himself away, a lightness to his shoulders.

The words cast themselves from your throat, thrown out like hooks, that old part of you reeling to keep his attention.

“Thank you.”

Something glittered behind that gaze. He looked you straight on with that smile like honey and said, “I was glad for the chance to take care of you.”

**

After lunch, you went straight up to your room, sank onto your bed, and stared blankly at the wall.

What was that? Your mind sped in a circuit, thoughts looping back on each other. Why'd he do that?

Surely your brain had short-circuited. He was like that with everyone, you reminded yourself, sweet and concerned. The type to ask a stranger how they're doing and stick around for an answer. But without the barrier of work, things felt different. It dredged up old feelings, back when you were half-way in love with him. It embarrassed you something fierce now, but in the beginning you used to make a playlist of all the songs you knew he listened to. You'd play it at night after work, lying in bed in the dark and wondering if right now, he wasn't doing the same. It made you long for him and feel closer to him all at once. You always paid Kim Jongin too much attention.

But at some point, you changed your focus. You threw yourself into the role of manager head first. Taking care of him was number one. You spent so much time around him in various states of undress over the years, helping with quick changes or applying therapeutic patches. You'd stood behind the cameras, watching other people fall in with him with a smile. You'd seen him at his worst, in pain, angry and sullen with the confinement of the world. It was the ultimate form of exposure therapy. Gone were the nights filled with music and yearning. You'd prepare for the next schedule before you sank exhausted into a deep and dreamless sleep. You thought you were immune.

You should've been immune.

So why did it feel so very much like you weren't?

**

You acted skittish around him at dinner, skirting over things and racing through the meal. You felt his cool gaze on you as you ate and felt yourself hunkering lower and lower over your plate like some threatened beast.

“Did you want to take a bath?”

“What?” you squeaked.

He looked up at you over his forkful of pasta, eyebrows raised.

“The bath in my room. It's like a spa. I thought you might want to relax while you're here. You're welcome to use it anytime.”

“Oh.” You swallowed thickly. “Um, maybe later. Thanks.”

Safe to say you did not take a bath in his room that night.

**

You woke first the second day. Sleep hadn't come easy, and you spent much of the night thinking of how to stop thinking, daydreaming of a long walk to purge all thoughts from your head. And so you dressed and headed downstairs on quiet socked feet. The owner of the lodge kept galoshes for the guests, and you pulled a pair out, slipping them over your shoes before walking out into the world.

Most of the snow that remained on this side of the mountain had melted, leaving behind stretches of mud that sucked at your shoes. Around you, the birds trilled. The forest was full of forest noises—pine needles brushing against the wind, woodpeckers drilling against bark. The website for the lodge mentioned that there were a number of trails maintained by a grounds crew throughout the property. A stream bordered the western edge of the property, and you thought you remembered something about a Buddhist shrine located near there.

You missed this, you realized about a half hour into the walk. Seoul had its share of scenic parks and river walks, but it felt like a held breath. Something temporary, a quick break before you returned to the rushing arteries of people making a living.

Life felt impossibly lethargic here in contrast. You realized, with one moment of panic, that you hadn't yet checked your phone this morning, before it dissipated slowly. You were on vacation, you reminded yourself. The others could hold down the fort while you were gone.

The path you were following rounded a corner into a scenic corner of the world. A small waterfall fed by snowmelt spilled over a mossy rock face into a pool surrounded by sweet grass. You stayed there for a while by the edge, mist falling over you in fine sprays. Small diamonds of water accumulated along the woolen fibers of your sleeves.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, the urge to move was back. The trail branched off here, and a lichen-covered stone marker sat in the intersection. You recognized it as one of the landmarks the woman from the grocery had mentioned. The hanja carved into it had grown worn and faded. 'Grove of the Elders' it read. You took the path to the left.

Soon, you found yourself in the Grove of the Elders. Erman's birch trees filled the clearing. The branches were still spindly, buds just forming on the tips. Papery bark peeled away from the trunk like old men's beards. White forsythia was in the early stage of blooming along the periphery. You understood why it had been named the way it had.

You made your way through the grove. The trees were well-established, some with trunks thick enough to wrap your arms around. You were making your way through the grove, marveling at the open blue sky above you, when you almost stepped on Jongin.

“Whoa.” He jumped up from where he had been reclined against the base of a tree, rubbing a hand along the backs of his thighs. “What are you doing here?”

It was disorienting to run into him here, out in the middle of the woods. You had forgotten about him, about everything if you were being honest. But confronted with the realness of him again, your worries returned.

“Me?” you asked. “I was on a walk. What are you doing laying here?”

“I was trying to read.” He flashed a heavily dog-eared paperback of Papillon. “Didn't really get that far,” he said with a wry grin.

“Oh, sorry. I'll let you get back to it.”

You made to leave when his hand stretched out and gripped your sleeve.

“That's not what I meant.” He seemed flustered at your misunderstanding and he released his grip on you. “You don't have to. I was actually thinking about stretching my legs. If you don't mind the company.”

“I don't,” you responded quietly, even though you weren't sure if that was the truth. You had come here to be alone with your thoughts after all, not spiral into a silent panic.

Jongin smiled at you and shoved his book in the back of his jeans as he fell into step.

**

It felt surreal to walk through the woods like this with him. It was like being on the set of a music video, except you were the subject. The perfect setting for a story.

“Is it okay if I tell you something?”

Jongin sent you a questioning look. Something about his eyes caught you. You realized that this was maybe the first time you were about to confide something in him. Secrets were dangerous things.  “Yeah, of course.”

“Sometimes I wonder how much of a person I am without you.” You laughed. “It's silly, I know. But I used to be so spontaneous. One time, I volunteered to pose nude for an adult art class just because, I dunno, it seemed like an experience. I liked collecting memories. My friends always used to ask me what I was up to.

“Now, they ask me what you're doing. Because it's the same thing now, I guess.”

You exhaled, then felt a hand wrap around your own.

Jongin looked at you, really looked at you. There was a particular intensity to this, a piercing quality that you had never been subjected to.

“You are more than me,” he said.

You were taken aback at his response.

His grip tightened. “I couldn't do this without you,” he continued. “I should've told you before—but I'm not like Jongdae, I forget. I think,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I thought you already knew, but it was stupid of me too assume when I wasn't... I didn't... You're the best manager I've had. I'm not saying that just to flatter you.”

The words tumbled out of him. You'd never seen him so discombobulated, and that threw you off kilter in turn. You hadn't expected anything from him, had let go of the words like balloons released from clumsy fingers, where an appropriate response might be “oh no.”

“You're knowledgeable and accountable. Do you know how much I rely on you? I was so nervous this comeback, I only made it through because of you.” He swept your hand up to his chest. You could feel his heart beating frantically against your knuckles, like it, too, was trying to tell you something. “I do better when you're around. I want to make you proud. So get that through your stubborn brain: I wouldn't be even half of what I am now if it wasn't for you.”

The tears came, unbidden. In a heartbeat, Jongin had pulled you in close, your head against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your back, while the other lay now at your sides, his fingers still intertwined with yours.

“I don't even know why I'm crying,” you laughed through your tears.

“You're always fighting for me. I just wish I could do more for you.” His fingers grazed over the bandage on your finger.

The laughter faded into full-throated sobs. Your heart squeezed with an uncomfortable fullness. You were overwhelmed. Lately, it had felt as if work was a crushing void, a thankless pit that sucked everything out of you. You felt isolated, living life without reciprocation or support. Jongin wouldn't know it, but he made you feel like a person again. He brought back the colors.

Dew drops dripped from branches around you, soft patters against soft spring grass. Jongin was warm and solid against you.

“I get scared that I can't do this forever.” The words were spoken softly. Jongin wasn't looking at you when you lifted your head, focused instead on something in the distance. “I don't know what I would I do without EXO.” He finally dropped his gaze to yours. You saw your own uncertainty reflected back. “Or you.”

You knew then that everything you'd been through lately, the uncertainty, didn't matter. You were both a little broken. So you pressed yourself against him harder, a pair of fractured hearts holding each other up. “You won't be getting rid of me anytime soon.”

Jongin sank into the embrace, his cheek pressed against your temple. You felt his chest build with a sigh, felt the exhale on the baby hairs of your nape. Dry lips grazed against you. His wordless thanks lingered upon your skin.

**

By some unspoken agreement, Jongin's hand remained in yours on the trek back to the lodge. You walked close enough to brush arms and skim each others thighs. A small part of you dreaded that you'd have to let go once you got back.

“The first time I realized I trusted you was when I told you I didn't know how to iron,” he confessed out of the blue.

You laughed. You remembered that day. Jongin had been adamant about wearing a bear-print shirt to the airport the following day, but it was so wrinkled. The collar pointed in two different directions and one sleeve was longer than the other unless someone held it down straight.

“I didn't know how to iron a shirt either,” you admitted.

Jongin grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We had to look up a tutorial on Naver, remember?”

“Oh yeah, the one with the Kyungsoo look-a-like, right? I took screenshots and sent them to Cho-hee.” You told him how Kyungsoo's manager had coerced him into recreating the shoot. Jongin had gasped delightedly and you made a mental note to show him the pictures when you got back. “But hey, wait, you still don't know how to iron, what the heck! I just ironed something for you last week!"

“Ah I don't know, I don't know,” Jongin chanted, plugging an ear with his free hand. “What tutorial? I don't know anything.”

“Kim Jongin, you are shameless.”

Laughter rang through the trees. Here was the morning you would rise to greet every day.

___________________________

A/N: The second, and final, chapter should be up next weekend (June 19-20). Me, releasing more than one thing in a month? Who am I??

Thank you for reading!

A/N 2: Second part is now up.

[ ❂ Read more Manager!verse here ]

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Sirius Black x Reader- Do You? Still?

If you had a million guesses on how your Thursday night would have ended you'd have never thought this one was possible. Initially, the loud, desperate knock on the door scared you. Who could possibly want you at this hour? Hesitant legs and a shaking hand eventually reached the door knob, opening the door slowly and a choked sob escaped your throat at the sight. It wasn't possible. There was no chance this was real.

"Your voice was barely a whisper as you dived forward towards the crying man on the steps, "Merlin is it really you?" You sobbed into his shoulder as you felt his skinny arms wrap round your waist. He remained silent, his emotions still taking control over his body. Without saying any more, you took his arm and pulled him into the same house he was taken from 12 years ago. Leading him to the front room and sitting beside him on the sofa you could finally take a moment to study his appearance.

He'd lost weight. A lot of it. Skin stretched over bone as he started to play with his thin fingers; he was nervous- of course he was Y/N you idiot, he just left Azkaban bloody Prison. His hair was still long but now his soft curls had become matted and filled with dirt. The most heartbreaking part was his eyes. His deep, stormy grey eyes were still beautiful but the joy and spark that brightened them up had gone. You moved back into his arms at alarming speed and felt him bury his head in your neck, his own sobs breaking free as his grip became painfully tight on your hips- fingertips dug in deep but the pain felt good, it felt real. He was really here.

You'd missed him more than anything. Sirius Black was the love of your life. In the 12 years he'd been gone you'd never even contemplated going out to find anybody else; there wasn't anybody else for you. But it became hard and the memories slowly became too hard to bear- with James and Lily dying and then Sirius being taken from you too you were sure if it wasn't for Remus being at your side for most of it you'd have ended it by now.

"Sirius." You breathed out his name for the first time in years. He looked up at you, staring into your glassed eyes. "God I've missed you. I've missed you so bloody much." You put your hand against his cheek, wiping away his stray tears with your thumb.

"Me too, my love. You have no idea." His voice was hoarse but the emotion was clear as day. "We have.. a lot to talk about really, don't we?" He spoke quietly. You nodded and stood up, offering him your hand.

"How about we get you cleaned up first? I still have all of your clothes, I could never bring myself to get rid of anything actually." You offered. His dirty hand went into yours as he gave you a small smile. As he pulled himself up you heard him wince in pain and move to clutch his side. You moved to help him but he stopped you.

"I'm okay Y/N, honestly." He tried to reassure you but his attempts were pitiful. You simply nodded and went upstairs to the bathroom with him.

"I'll go grab a towel and some clothes for you. I'm afraid Remus used up all your toiletries years ago, he stayed here for a while. You're more than welcome to use mine, we both know you're a sucker for my strawberry shampoo." You returned moments later with the items and walked in, Sirius not yet noticing your presence as he looked at himself in the mirror. You attempted not to cry again at the sight and held it back to be stronger for him, Merlin knows what he's been through. If the view of his extremely thin physique wasn't enough he was covered in multiple scars, cuts and bruises- the last of which being a massive one that spread over his ribcage and round to the back of his shoulder blade. His fingers ghosted over them all as his eyes watered once more at the man he had become. Soon enough his eyes caught yours in the mirror and he panicked, whipping round and attempting to cover his body with his old clothes to hide himself from you, embarrassed at the way he looked, but his attempt failed and he only hurt himself more moving his arms so fast.

"Y/N I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to have to see me like.. this." He spoke shyly, nothing like the confident man who used to parade around the house in nothing but his boxer shorts.

"Don't be silly. I'll give you a hand, you're in no position to do anything yourself." You said, turning the shower on to a beautifully warm temperature.

"Y/N I'm fine I don't want to be any bother."

"You're never any bother Sirius, I want to help you. Please?" You plead, sighing with relief when he gave in and stepped into the shower. You stripped too and got in with him- you'd both seen each other naked before, there was no thoughts even close to sexual ones in your mind as you turned him to face you, the hot water ricocheting off his face. Slowly, you sponged him down, constantly weary of everywhere that could hurt him and smiled as you heard him sigh contentedly as the layers of dirt washed down the drain. Next you combed your fingers through his knotted hair, removing the larger tangles and rubbing your strawberry scented shampoo over his scalp, feeling him physically relax under your touch. You stepped out before him and offered him a towel and his clothes on the side of the sink, pulling on one of his old t-shirts yourself before helping him put his own on and making your way back downstairs. Whilst he got himself comfortable you left to make him some tea and grabbed one of his favourite chocolate bars from the cupboard in hopes to cheer him up a little more. Walking back in you settled the tea on the side and offered him the food.

"Thank you." He spoke, taking a sip of the warm drink and settling back into the soft cushions of the sofa. You didn't realise you'd been staring until his voice came back again. "Y/N please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" You questioned, worried you'd upset him more.

"Like you're scared to talk to me. Like anything you say or ask is going to make me break. I'm a few pounds lighter but I'm still the same Sirius. Although the weight shouldn't be a problem if you have more of these back there." He gave a laugh. A small one, but still a laugh, as he took a bite of his chocolate bar.

"I'm sorry. I'm just.. still trying to comprehend the fact this is happening. Are you okay?" You asked, taking his hand in your own and rubbing your fingers across his knuckles.

"I'm home. I have real clothes, chocolate, tea and you. I've not felt better in 12 years." You nodded in response, still unsure of what to say. "Y/N.. you didn't.." He paused. "You didn't think I-"

"Oh god Sirius no. Never for even a second. James and Lily were family, you could never do such a thing." You watched him visibly relax and sigh in relief, turning his hand over to intertwine your fingers together.

"I know you probably have a lot of questions-"

"Don't. Let's not talk about it for a little while; you don't have to tell me anything until you're ready to. I think we should just get you to bed and let you rest. You'll feel a lot better in a few days." You spoke, not wanting to push him too far too soon.

"Don't feel obligated to but uh- will you.. it's just I've spent so long alone.. could you possibly.." He was almost embarrassed to finish his question, not quite knowing where he stood with you. He loved you with all his heart and the two of you together was the strongest relationship anyone had ever seen. But that was 12 years ago. Had you moved on? Had you stopped feeling the same for him? He couldn't blame you if you had. Your voice interrupted his thought process."

"You want me to stay with you? I'm not planning on going anywhere. Come on." You offered your hand again, this time taking his arm to help him up rather than his hand to save the strain on his bruises. He took the offer gratefully and followed you back upstairs. You slid into the bed, having slept only on your side out of habit still for the last 12 years, leaving Sirius' side untouched since he left. You lifted the duvet on his side and patted the bed, offering him in to which he accepted quickly and nestled himself under the covers.

"God it feels good laying down in a proper bed." He all but moaned, sinking into his old pillows. Almost instinctively as if he'd never left you rolled towards Sirius and he embraced you under his arm like it was normal routine. "So.. right side of the bed in pristine condition.. all of my clothes still in the wardrobe and even my old ripped boots still sitting by the door. Dare I say you missed me?" He asked, his old cheeky tone you know and love coming back into his voice.

"You say that as if you weren't crying before I even opened the door." You teased, moving your head to look up at him.

"Oh I can easily admit I missed you more than I missed anything but I didn't have anything else to even come close to make me not think of you. You had the rest of the world, why didn't you move on?" He asked, preparing himself to hear you say you've met other people and this was all just an act of kindness.

"The rest of the world? Sirius my whole world was stuck in a cell in Azkaban. I never even thought about moving on; people told me to but I never saw the point. I met the love of my life when I was 11 years old, nothing could ever come close to how I feel about you. I love you Sirius." You confessed.

"Do you? Still?" He asked, still insecure.

"I never stopped." He breathed deeply and you noticed one stray tear roll down his cheek. You leant up and placed your lips on his for the first time in 12 years and all of the emotion came flooding back. The kiss was short, almost lazy, but the feelings behind it were stronger than ever.

"I love you too Y/N. Thank you. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you." He whispered, kissing different parts of your face with each sentence.

"I never could Pads. Now let's get some sleep and I'll take another look at those bruises in the morning to see if there's anything I can do about them." You tucked yourself deeper under his arm, your hand reaching over to trace the tattoos that covered his chest. Barely 5 minutes had passed before you heard his soft snoring from beside you and smiled to yourself. It was all real. Sirius was home at last, something you thought would never happen and you'd never been happier.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 12 - Final Chapter

* * * * * *

Natasha’s lithe fingers follow the trail of your spine, her touch on your bare skin gently stirring you from your sleep. 

The touch halts, lingering on a darker spot on your hip. Using the tip of her finger she traces the pattern of the birthmark. 

She hadn’t noticed that before. Just another thing about your body she’d learned in the past few days. 

While you weren’t sex crazed, after your first time together, you and Natasha had become much more sexually active. Almost every available night you spent tangled up in each other. 

That didn’t happen of course until after you’d both had a long and understanding conversation about what had happened. 

Now though, you’re both closer than you had been before, in every way. 

Natasha moves, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the mark on your hip, before curling into your back and kissing your neck. You, basking in her warmth and gentle touch, cuddle back into her and grab her hand, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest. 

“Good morning lyubov moya.” She speaks softly, each breath fanning your neck. 

You turn in her embrace, a sleepy smile on your lips,“ morning malyshka.”

A faint blush coats her cheeks as she ducks her head. Making you chuckle and press a kiss to the top of her head, arms tightening around her. 

Looking to the nightstand, your eyes widen when you realize you’d both slept well into the day, the time reading 11:35. No doubt due to the previous nights activities. 

“Tash, we should probably get up.” You tell the woman, just barely upset you’d wasted half the day.

She groans, somehow snuggling into you further.

You didn’t think you’d ever see the day Natasha Romanoff didn’t want to get out of bed. The woman consistently wakes up before the sun rises. 

“Don’t you just want to stay here with me?” Her words are a whisper against your skin and you shiver involuntarily. 

Biting your lip, you try to build a firm resolve in your head, but with the way Natasha’s fingers keeping gently stroking your skin, and the small pout on her lips, you fold.

Playfully groaning, you nod,“ I mean I guess we can stay in bed a little longer.” You look up to the ceiling in fake thought before meeting her gaze again.

"You make it seem as if this isn’t exactly what you want to be doing.” She teases, eyebrow quirked at you challengingly.

Of course she’s right. What right minded person wouldn’t want to stay in the arms of their love. 

Instead of indulging her smug attitude, you lean closer and press a kiss to her lips. She moves to deepen it, her lips adding pressure to yours. And then she pulls away abruptly. 

Eyes wide you back up a little, in case you just did something you shouldn’t have,“ what? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing I just, I have to pee.” She smacks a quick kiss to your lips and crawls out of bed.

You nod, then watching her sprint to the bathroom. While she’s in the bathroom, you use that time to get up and pull on some clothes, also picking up the clothes you and your girlfriend had discarded last night.

“This does not look like staying in bed.” 

Looking, your eyes move to the bathroom door where Natasha stands, hands on her hips. You can’t stop your gaze from trailing over the woman’s naked body. Every inch of her is beautiful: scars, curves, birthmarks, freckles, everything is breathtaking.

You nod and shake your head at the same time,“ yeah no I- well I was just tidying up is all.”

Green eyes narrow and she points to the bed. With a chuckle you obey, crawling back under the covers, and accepting Natasha into your arms when she crawls in afterwards. 

The both of you sit in the silence, reveling in each other’s embrace. A low hum leaves the ex-assassin’s lips when your fingers graze her scalp as you comb through her hair. The soft affection from you making her smile a little.

“Hey,” she squeezes you gently,“ I love you.”

Smiling brightly, you kiss the top of her head,“ I love you too Tash.”

Just holding her makes you beyond happy and you can’t express how glad you are things worked out. 

Seeing as you hadn’t exactly practiced what you preached, you hadn’t seen the benefits of total honesty with your partner. Now that you’re both on the same page it’s the most incredible feeling.

Natasha’s proven to be the most loving, understanding, and caring woman. Knowing that she can trust you wholly has her acting in a way she didn’t think she ever would. You’d pulled out this childlike happiness that she wasn’t allowed to have in the past. Moments like this: being affectionate and playful, happening more often. 

It’s not until Natasha’s stomach rumbles from hunger that you decide to get up. Leaving her to take a shower, you head out to the kitchen.

“Good morning Buck, Mister Rogers.” You nod to both men. 

They smile back, Bucky good naturedly patting your shoulder as you pass by.

“Looks like you slept well.” Steve notes, earning a scoff and chuckle from Bucky. 

“Or not at all.” 

Wide eyed you look back at the man, who sports a knowing grin. Steve’s cheeks heat up and you refrain from retaliating to Bucky purely for his sake. 

That doesn’t mean a comment isn’t made though.“ Jealous Rogers hasn’t put out yet?” 

All eyes fall to Natasha as she comes in smirking at Bucky and winking at Steve. You sigh, shaking your head at the woman’s antics and focusing on making her something to eat. 

As you cook, you engage in conversation with the three. They make it known that there’s been a spike in missions lately, something to do with some mad scientist over in California. 

Setting a plate down in front of Natasha, you ask,“ so they’re just mass experimenting on people and there hasn’t been any news on it?” 

They all raise their eyebrows at you as you sit to eat as well.“ What kind of news would you expect? It’s not like they’re interviewing the bad guy.”

“Well no, obviously, but if there’s suddenly a bunch of enhanced individuals tearing up the west coast I refuse to believe there are no reports on it. Some kid who saw them and posted about it, a family noticing their relative missing or showing abnormal abilities, hell a news report on some kind of superpowered mugger?” You explain yourself. 

You may not be here as a superhero but you’ve seen the way the public reacts to them. When the Avengers came out there wasn’t a news station that didn’t cover their every move.

“She’s right,” Natasha nods,“ we keep looking at underground channels instead of plain ole media.”

Both men share a glance, Steve then leaning forward and looking at you,“ where would we start?” 

A small chuckle leaves your lips,“ honestly, I’d go straight to social media. I don’t know what kind of programs or whatever you guys use but if you searched a particular word combination,” as you speak you go to wash up the few dishes you and Natasha had used,“ like superhuman + California it’s likely you’ll find something. Everything is always all over social media.” 

“So-”

Natasha quickly cuts Steve off,“ okay okay she’s given us a lead, let’s talk about it with Tony.” 

Both men nod, all of you understanding Natasha’s reasons for stopping it here: she doesn’t want you involved in this part of their work. 

In one of your many moments of honesty she told you that she would rather you not get into that. The team already comes back from missions and lays all that on you and you’re of course in danger enough just living with them, knowing in  depth mission details puts you further in danger and she refuses. 

And you’d also told her you genuinely didn’t want to be that involved anyway. As cool as you’ve seen being an Avenger can be, you have no interest in actually being one. Their therapist is a position you’re more than happy to fill. 

“Fellas, excuse us.” Natasha nods to them, taking your hand and pulling you back to your room. 

You can’t help giggle when she pushes you on to the bed and goes right back to cuddling you like you hadn’t left the bed in the first place. 

That’s where you both stay for the next few hours. Even when you decide to do something else she keeps you in her arms. While you play on your switch she watches over your shoulder, sporadically presses kisses to your neck, and asks what the heck it is you’re doing. 

Until the time approaches for you to get ready for tonight. Pepper had insisted that the couples of your friend group go out for the night. First dinner and then going to a play Tony had scored tickets to.

Wanting to be comfortable and still formal, you decide to wear a black pant suit, the top you choose is a solid black bralette, and you pair it all with a simple pair of black heels. 

“Zip me up?” Natasha steps out of the bathroom and turns her back to you.

As you do so, your eyes roam over her figure in the mirror. How she can make such a simple green dress look so beautifully elegant you don’t know but you love it. 

“You look gorgeous, love.” You tell her, pressing a light kiss to her shoulder. 

She smiles as she looks at you,“ as do you malyshka.” 

Once you both have everything you need, you leave out. Bucky and Steve are waiting for the two of you by the door and together all of you climb into Bucky’s truck.

Everyone meets up at the restaurant and are seated after confirming that they’re a part of Tony’s dinner party.

Admittedly you weren’t too sure about this whole thing for a number of reasons, but your worries fade away throughout dinner. 

There’s an amazing energy flowing through the group. It’s beyond entertaining to see the matching sass between Tony and Maria Rambeau. The woman is just as witty as Carol which makes their interactions with the billionaire very entertaining. 

You find yourself jumping from about three different conversations, one being with Pepper, Laura, and Natasha, the other with Clint, Steve, and Bucky, and of course the one with Tony, Carol, and Maria. 

Funnily enough, the first conversation sounds a lot like what you’d expect to hear from three wives, wine and partner complaints galore, with the guys it’s mainly sports(Bucky and Clint aren’t too happy about the MLB playoffs), and as mentioned, the last conversation is very sassy. 

“-if I can fly my suits I think I can fly a fighter jet.” The man continues is his argument.

With a chuckle, you look at him pointedly,“ Tony, my friend, pick your battles,” then you take a bite of your dessert.

Natasha notices the way your eyes widen and you eagerly take another bite. Her elbow gently nudges you and when she gives the cutest little pout you know what she wants. So you scoop another piece of the food onto your spoon and hold it out to her. 

A hum of approval leaves her and you smile, wiping a spot of chocolate off the corner of her lip, which elicits her to lean in and kiss you. 

The bubble pops when Tony speaks,“ it’s like we aren’t even here.” 

His words make your friends laugh, Pepper reaches over to smack his arm,“ pay him no mind, you two are adorable together.” 

“Natasha and adorable? Never thought I’d see the day.” Tony further teases.

“Hey T, remember when you lost that bet to me and had to wear-”

“Aye aye okay,” he raises his hands in surrender,“ no more teasing I got it.”

Pepper covers her laugh with her hand, knowing exactly what you’re talking about, and everyone else looks at you and Tony expectantly. But you smoothly change the conversation and everyone soon moves past that moment. 

Almost everybody. 

It’s after you’ve sat down at the play venue that Natasha brings it back up. 

The lights dim and she leans into your side, you wrap an arm around her, and the actors walk on to the stage to begin the play.

“Y/n,” she pokes your side making you look over at her, voice a whisper, she asks,“ what did Tony have to wear?” 

Resisting the urge to laugh out loud, you lean over to whisper in her ear,“ assless chaps.” 

Her jaw drops, the corners of her lips lifting in amusement,“ you’re kidding.”

You shake your head,“ it’s a long story but the moral of it is that Tony should not underestimate me.”

Even though your eyes are trained on the play you can feel Natasha still looking at you. 

If you were looking at her though, you’d see stars in those green orbs. Better yet hearts. You would see how absolutely in love with you she is. And she genuinely can’t believe it.

Had anyone told her, when you walked through the compound doors, that she would’ve fallen in love with you she would’ve laughed. And she would’ve been more wrong than she ever had been in her life. Because here she is staring at you like a lovestruck idiot.

You’d managed to come in and completely flip her world upside down. 

“Miss Romanoff, you’re missing the play.” A teasing smile masks your lips as you look down at her. 

Before you can turn away, she’s gently grabbing your chin, and kissing you. 

“Thank you.” Her breath fans your lips. 

“For what?” You frown.

“For proving me wrong. At every turn. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met-”

“Shhhhh.” A voice interrupts from behind you and you turn around to find a frowning, clearly pissed off, older man.

Locking eyes with him you whisper/yell,“ hey buddy my girl’s trying to profess her undying love for me, if you could just not butt in that’d be great.” With a thumbs up you turn back to Natasha,“ as you were saying.”

The woman shakes her head amusedly,“ I love you so fucking much.”

Even though you can tell she has more to say, it’s obviously not the best place for that. Besides you know the two of you have all the time in the world, so you simply kiss her again,“ I love you too.”

* * * * * *

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers​ @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch

[heyheydidjaknow]

Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. “It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

--

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12