#when i said “let me cook” i really meant “let me dry age this”

[nieniekoto]

something about filling moominvalley with crime and grand theft autumn

[ancha-aus]

Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - Slow Morning

I ended up deciding to write a tiny thing on this :3

Just for fun :D

No edit's or beta we going.

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Dust is laying in his bed. Nice and comfortable in his blanket. An old knitted one he and Ash found in a yard sale ages ago.

He sighs as he moves around a bit. His movement is limited but it is warm.

Dust relaxes as he just enjoys laying in his bed. The last job in the mansion filled up his money reserves. He had his coffee and smokes and put money aside to do groceries later.

Oh right...

He needs to actually get up and get groceries.

Ugh he just really doesn't want to.

It had been the first time in ages he had less stess the past week.

Normally Dust had to double check his accounting and money to make sure he could pay for his food and make sure at least the water kept running. The payload from the mansion job had meant he was able to actually pay his bills and pay rent again.

Getting a bit of a positive note with the landowner. Who was high beyond believe.

The guy may not be able to remember when people had to pay but he knows who paid him. Meaning as long as Dust pays him once ina while he stays in the good books with the landlord.

Dust had been sure he did everything he had to do and could just lay in bed for the day. rest more and just sleep.

Sadly.

He has to get up.

Dust groans as he tries to stretch only to find himself still limited in movements.

Oh. Right.

He slams his left and right arm both down next to him. His right arm hits his mattress. but his left arm! that one strikes gold as he feels it connect with someone.

Nightmare chuckles "Good morning."

Dsut glares at him and tugs on his arm "Stop crawling into my bed. and let go."

Nightmare looks amused at the arm he has captured against his sternum "i mean. You gave me your hand freely." he smirks as he catches his hand and kisses it.

Dust continues to glare as he tugs harder on his arm "You know very well it wasn't giving anything."

Ngihtmare hums and shrugs as he lets him go "Fair enough." and Nightmare stretches out on the mattress and Dust makes sure he isn't staring as he quickly looks for clothes before just giving up. He needs coffee before anything else.

He leaves his room and stumbles into his living room. Just some coffe... then he will get dressed and smoke before going to get groceries and-

Why does it smell delicious in here?!

Is one of his neighbors cooking?

Dust looks around and notices that his house looks... cleaner? THe windows are all open and everything has been put away and cleared. the couch has his spare blanket and pillow still on it but the blanket is folded and put to the side with the pillow on top.

Any leftover dishes are cleared from the area and the floow looks clean? dirt free at least.

Dust looks over and spots Cross's body in the kitchen. by the stove making food.

Dust blinks and wlaks over "Cross? Since when can you cook?" He knows Cross never really cooked. He always ate with the other priests and can make some sandwiches and salads but not actual food. But it can't be Killer as Dust knows Killer can't cook at all. He confirmed this as well when they were both eating dry cereal.

Cross's body pauses for a moment before looking back at him and- wait... that isn't cross?!

Cross speaks calmly "Good morning Dust. I expected you to still be asleep." he turns back to the stove "Take a seat pelase. I will have breakfast ready soon."

Dust stares in shock. "Horror?"

Horror nods as he focusses on the food "Correct."

Dsut blinks. Since when does Horror possess Cross? Wait. He looks aorund and spots Killer glaring at Horror and Cross pouting with his arms crossed. Dust blinks and looks abck at Horror "Why... why are you possessing Cross?" Horror never did that before. Said he found it disrespectful.

Horror hums as he calmly cooks "After the last mission you were tired. And with us not being able to help you with your work or getting money I got thinking. I decided you should have a calmer morning, which included not being groped all night by either Killer or waking up wiht Cross's body half humping you." Killer shouts a loud hey and pouts wiht a glare as Cross hides his fac enad mutters about his body just doing it and him being sorry.

Horror looks amused at them before he continues speaking "Especially now there was money for actual food." he turns a bit "I already went grocery shopping for you with the money you put aside for it and cleaned the living room and kitchen. Once you got your breakfast I am going to take a look at your bathroom and bedroom." and he turns back to the stove.

Holy shit.

No offense to Cross...

But holy shit Horror should possess the body more often.

Dust gives a slow nod "okay... cool... I will just... euh... Coffee..." he moves over to his coffee pot and feels ready to cry when he sees it is already filled and it seems like Horror bought the good coffee?! Oh but those are so expensive but so good. Maybe... okay maybe once... he can just enjoy the nice treat for a while. He will buy the cheaper store brand when this one is all finished. He fills his favourite mug, a mug that looks like a silly slime from some game he used to like when Ash still had his old computer to game on. Dust deeply inhales the scent of coffee and sighs happily.

He takes his mug and grabs a smoke before going towards the open window. There is a chair already ready there with an empty ashtray.

He gets comfortable as he enjoys his drink and smoke in peace.

Oh it has been so long since he last had the chance to enjoy both of these. Money had been much too tight for him to indulge himself this much but after everything? He needs this so badly.

The door of his bedroom opens and Nihtmare walks out fully dressed. He takes a moment to study everything in the room before looking amused "Interesting..." he chuckles at how angry Killer looks before he moves towards the couch. He takes a seat and takes one of the many books Dust has on supernatural things and Nightmare starts to read it.

Dust finishes his smoke and leaves the ashtray by the window as he goes get a new mug with coffee.

Ash looks smug at Killer and Cross as he berates both of them for trying to violate Dust as Dust sleeps and Dsut goes back to ignoring them.

He fills his mug and Horror hums "Food is ready."

Dust blinks "already? Okay. euh..." he looks back and realises his tiny table is already set. He takes a moment to just wander over there and take a seat. He sip his coffee and a moment later Horror walks over as he balances a few plates.

Dust feels his mouth water as he stares at the stack of pancakes. the waffles with chocolate syrup. There is even a plate with french toast.

Oh gods he is so much more hangry than he thought he was.

Horror puts down a plate for himself as well before going to his side and putting downa glass with milk and another glass with orange juice "it is important to stay hydrated. and before i forget."

Dust suddenly feels teeth against his cheek and he freezes. The silence is deafening.

It is just a soft kiss to his cheek before Horror pulls back wiht a chuckle "There is interest. But I know you are busy and stressed. I just wish for you to know. Enjoy your breakfast." and he takes his own seat to eat his meal as he happily ignores Killer and Ash shouting at him.

Dust feels his soul pulsing fast as he tries to get his mind to catch up on what just happened.

Since... since when does? why does? Horror of all people?!

Dust ends up picking up his fork and eaitng a bite. Only to feel the fodo melt in his mouth and the intent to almost knock him over.

Care. Love. Affection as a whole.

It has been so long since he last ate food with intent in it. It tastes so much better than anything he has eaten since... since forever.

He hears a snort and looks up to see Nightmare looking amused at Killer laying it into Horror for trying to steal his one true love and future mate. and that Horror has no shame for trying this.

Horror hums as he eats another bite and mutters about it not being Killer's choice and an alternative is sharing.

Dust feels his mind pause as Killer just looks thoughtful. Cross looks horribly offended and embarressed as he stresses once again that they both need to stop using Cross's body to flirt with Dust.

Dust decides to just enjoy his breakfast. He has no idea when the next chance will be to get an actualy meal with intent in it.

He just enjoys his treat and happily eats the meal. Just a moment for him to enjoy good food, nice coffee and later another smoke.

Dust is selfish. He may not deserve these things but he wants them. and so he will enjoy them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

wallflower 5

Warnings: age gap, creepin’, slow burn, stepdad-adjacent, possible noncon/dubcon, abuse, violence, self-harm.

Character: silverfox!Thor

Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

Note: Helloooooo! Another erratic drabble series. Appreciate any and all feedback. Love you all.

Your mother’s house isn’t small but Thor’s is at least twice the size. His home is tucked away in the upscale suburbs of the north end, a curiosity to you as you wonder who needs all that space for themself. Everything beyond your bedroom is always a bit confounding to you but your mind wanders further the longer you’re away from it. 

Thor has to be close to your mother’s age. Does he have a family? Rather did he? Divorced? Estranged? You see little evidence but you don’t dare delve into these questions very far. Your mother’s warning chimes in your head, keeping you in your place; stay out of my way.

You fidget with the long silver fork, uninterested in your meal as your stomach tosses and turns at your strange surroundings and your listless thoughts. 

Your mother has her mask firmly in place as she sits close to Thor, and you languish on your side of the table. She takes a greedy gulp of wine and squeezes his arm as he cuts into his T-bone. That’s how it goes; you, the third wheel, watching life from the outside. You doubt you’ll ever do anything exciting. You’re not meant to do, only witness.

You poke at a green bean, content to let their conversation carry on as if you’re not even there.

“You alright over there?” Thor asks and your fork pierces through the bean and tinks off the plate sharply. You glance up at him in surprise, believing for a moment you were truly invisible.

You nod and pick up the bean, shoving it into your mouth so that you don’t have to answer. Your mother sighs and reaches for the bottle of wine. Thor’s hand wraps around the neck first, as he grips it without looking.

“I have been so careless,” he slides the bottle away from your mother as she curls her lip, her hand still outstretched and empty, “I didn’t even offer you wine. You are old enough, yes?”

You rub your lips together. They’re dry and chapped and rough. You didn’t bring your lip balm. You catch some loose skin and it tears off under your front teeth. 

“Er…” you begin.

“No,” your mother says firmly, “old enough she may be but I wouldn’t have it. She can finish her water.”

You smile, or try to, your lips tremble in your fraught facade, “thank you, I don’t like wine.”

“I have beer,” Thor offers.

“I said ‘no’,” your mother insists, “Thor, she is my daughter.”

“She’s an adult, no?” He lets go of the wine, “I was only being courteous,” he sits back and looks at her, pushing his shoulders back as he rests his arms on the chair, “in my home.”

“And what a nice home it is, sweetheart,” she preens as she takes the bottle and fills her glass. 

You notice how Thor watches the pour and his cheek ticks. Is he annoyed with her? Or you? Maybe he regrets bringing you along. You’re just getting in the way. You slice another bean in half with the side of your fork and take a bite. It’s good, seasoned well, not too hard or dry.

“Thank you,” you eke out, “this is very good.”

Thor slowly turns back to you and smiles. “Thanks, I’ve been busying myself lately in the kitchen. I have much more free time so I’ve taken on the hobby.”

“Oh, a man that cooks, you really are perfect,” you mother smirks and takes another deep swig of the wine, a droplet escaping the corner of her lips.

“Perhaps you should have some water,” your host offers, his eyes lingering on you a moment before facing your mother, “that is a high volume cask. From my own brother’s vineyard. He sends me a bottle or two when he remembers me.”

“Your brother? A whole vineyard? That sounds wonderful. Perhaps one day you could take me.”

“It isn’t very fit for a family trip, especially if the young one can’t drink,” Thor shrugs.

“I said me,” your mother snipes then catches herself, covering her mouth and giving a gentle giggle, “forgive me, it has been a long week.”

“Mm, yes,” Thor sits forward and resumes carving into his half-devoured steak, “don’t let it get cold.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” your mother puts down her glass, almost empty again, “it is all so delicious. Again, I must thank you for all your effort and… inviting my daughter. You really didn’t have to.”

“Like I said, it’s important for us all to get to know each other.”

You cut into your steak and watch the juice ooze out, revealing the perfect pink tint of the inside. You eat in silence, hoping to clear your plate and be done with it. 

What happens after? When you’ve nothing to do but stare at the wall? When you have nothing to offer to the conversation and no excuse for it?

Why are you here?

Your stomach aches as you try to force down the savoury steak. Your mother regales Thor with the latest office gossip about how Nicole was called in for an unexpected performance review. The story is cruel but she tells it as if it’s a joke. He doesn’t respond as he eats.

The food is so rich but heavy. You put your fork and knife down and wipe your fingers with the cloth napkin. Your movement draws Thor’s attention and you nearly wilt beneath his stormy blue irises.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can eat it all,” you say from behind the napkin, “but I can do the dishes–”

“It’s alright, I’ll give it to Fen.”

“Fen?” You wonder.

“Oh, I’ve locked that oaf up to save you the stampede,” he chuckles, “he’s the old wolfhound lurking around my garage. I imagine he’s knocked over the bin by now.”

“Wolfhound? A dog?” Your mother scowls, she always forbid you from having a pet.

“A dog?” You echo in a more hopeful tone, “is he nice?”

Thor laughs as he ignores your mother’s gripe. “I like to think he is but I’m afraid he takes after me. He’s big and a bit bullish, and can be a bit moody.”

“Oh,” you deflate, “I like dogs.”

“How about after dinner we see what he thinks of you. He’s a bit of a lady’s man, I think he might like you.”

“Really?”

“Dear, you really shouldn’t be hanging around dirty dogs,” your mother huffs, “she doesn’t need to see the mutt.”

“Mutt?” Thor whispers as he tears his attention from you, “I’ve trained him myself and he’s bred well. I consider him family so you won’t call him that.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, it’s just…” your mother gives a dramatic swoon and fans herself, “I had an awful experience with a dog, an attack!” She touches her chest, “it has given me a bit of a phobia. I am nervous, is all.”

You fold your hands in your lap and turn your face down, hiding so you can’t betray her lie. An attack? You recall her kicking the neighbour’s new puppy for pissing on the fence. It’s almost impressive how she frames the world through her Kat-tinted glasses. How every experience is a test of her character which she must overcome.

“May I use the bathroom?” You ask as you sit up straight.

“Just down the hall, honey,” Thor points with his steak knife, “don’t get too lost.”

“Right, thank you,” you stand and put your napkin down as your mother glares at you.

“Don’t touch anything,” she girds and lifts her glass again, “you know how clumsy you are.”

“Yes, mom,” you answer as you fix your skirt, the lace bunching up around one thigh and catching on itself. Thor’s eyes follow your hand and the flutter of fabric. “Be back.”

You sidle around the front of the chair and pad out quickly. You just want to go home. You have no place here. No purpose. Just like everything else.

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 4

cws: emotional state that's verging on a panic attack, emotional manipulation, discussion of whumpee's death, whumpee trying to stop himself from having any type of preferences, let me know if I missed anything!

masterlist

Everyone here had their own set of rules. Some were easier to follow than others. Her Majesty the Queen was particular about me being graceful, while no one else really cared how I walked. Prince Ryan made sure that I knew every task I was given was for me to finish completely and perfectly, while Prince Cardan found it entertaining to give me two tasks I clearly couldn’t complete at the same time. The separate rules could be confusing sometimes, but generally, they weren’t too hard to figure out.

Jayden’s rules were hard to figure out. Maybe because of the lack of them.

Jayden was the only other servant here. Still higher ranking than me, because he was human, but closer than anyone else. Higher ranking enough that he could’ve treated me like everyone else did—like all I was useful for was servitude. It would only have been fair.

He didn’t treat me like that. He smiled when he saw me and gave me leniency when I made mistakes. Good servants didn’t have likes and dislikes, so of course I didn’t like working with Jayden more than I liked any of my other tasks, but I was incredibly grateful when I did work with him.

Jayden was in charge of making meals for everyone, and I helped with dinner every night. It was my last task before eating dinner and getting any punishment I’d earned during the day. Maybe making dinner wasn’t a difficult job, or maybe Jayden tended to give me the easy parts of it, but either way it was usually the least eventful part of my day.

“Hey, Onyx! Good to see you. Can you start some rice?”

“Yes, sir.” Rice was easy. Rice was put two ingredients in the same pot easy. Rice was I don’t want you doing difficult tasks easy.

Jayden gave me easy tasks and treated me like a human.

Of course, it was better than I deserved, and I really shouldn’t have accepted such kind treatment, but it was… nice.

“Once that’s cooking, start on the dishes, yeah?”

I nodded. Dishes were easy, too, just more time consuming. Jayden didn’t like doing dishes—said that his hands were wrinkled enough from age that he didn’t need them wrinkling more from getting soaked in water all the time. He wasn’t that old—his sixties, I thought—but I liked his wrinkles regardless. His hands were softer than anyone else’s when he patted my shoulder or squeezed my hands. Or maybe his hands were just kinder than anyone else’s.

Dishes were also easy to get lost in. It was a routine—rinse, soap, scrub, rinse, dry, repeat. It was easy for me to do, and easy for me to zone out while doing, because of the repetitive nature of it. Jayden didn’t usually mind when I zoned out, though. He would tap my shoulder if he needed my attention. It was kindness that I was taking advantage of, I was almost certain, but it was nice regardless.

He tapped me on the shoulder today, and I turned, but he wasn’t the one standing behind me.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” I mumbled, dropping to my knees and bowing. I was supposed to bow when royalty entered a room, which meant that I was late right now, but Prince Ryan wasn’t supposed to be here. That’s not how the schedule worked. I swallowed around a lump in my throat. “May I assist you with something?”

“Sorry to interrupt. Jayden, you’re finishing dinner on your own, but Onyx will be back to serve it like usual. Onyx, we’re doing your punishments from this morning. C’mon.”

Punishments were supposed to be after dinner. They were always after dinner. I made mistakes throughout the day, and then I was punished for them after dinner, before bed, so that I’d have the opportunity to rest in between punishment and the chores of the next day. Punishments were never-

But Prince Ryan was standing in the kitchen right now, and he had just told me that I was being punished, and I was always supposed to do what the royal family told me to. That rule trumped the others—do what you’re told.

I scrambled to my feet as he walked into the hall, following him to the office. It had hardwood floors, which were easier to get blood off of than the carpeted ones in the bedrooms. If I had to serve dinner while bleeding, I would probably make more mistakes. Prince Ryan knew that. That’s why my schedule was the way it was.

He glanced back at me as we entered the room. “Sit down somewhere. I have a little bit of paperwork to finish filling out, and then we’ll get started.”

Prince Ryan had an entire filing cabinet dedicated to me. Most of it was papers documenting my mistakes and punishments. I’d known that already, but usually he didn’t do it with me here. He said I was more useful doing almost anything besides watching him write things down.

I sat down on the floor next to his chair, trying to keep my posture perfect. He didn’t ever fill out paperwork with me, and he didn’t ever punish me before dinner, and of course I wasn’t supposed to question anything the royal family did but I didn’t understand why everything was so different today. Jayden had been weird too, and Prince Cardan had said that thing about how tonight I was going to-

“Fuck, Onyx, are you crying? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“My apologies, Your Highness.” I hadn’t realized I was crying, too focused on the discrepancies of the day, but I rubbed at my cheeks immediately, trying to get myself to stop. I wasn’t supposed to cry around other people. It made me look pathetic and attention-seeking. Her Majesty hated it. Prince Ryan tolerated it occasionally, but I still shouldn’t be doing it, especially when he hadn’t even touched me.

“What’s wrong? You’re not usually this…” He looked me up and down. “This pitiful.”

“My apologies.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question. Is it because I’m doing punishments before dinner today?”

“No, I just, I don’t want-” That wasn’t right. Good servants didn’t have wants besides wanting to serve the crown. “Um. I would be, I’d be very grateful to live, Your Highness. Are you killing me tonight?”

He blinked. “No. What?”

“The punishment time was wrong, and, and His Highness Prince Cardan said that I would die tonight.”

Prince Ryan exhaled through his nose, and I flinched at his frustration. “Yeah. He did, you’re right, I forgot about that. Okay. Listen, you understand that you’re supposed to trust the things we say to you, right?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. You believed him because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and I appreciate that, but the thing about Prince Cardan is that he entertains himself by making my life as difficult as he can. The reason I’m punishing you early tonight is because we have other places to be after dinner, which you weren’t told about because servants like you don’t get to know about these things in advance. Cardan said what he did because he thinks you’ll die, which he’s wrong about. He also thinks it’s funny to watch you worry about things. You're not dying.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness,” I sniffled.

“Yeah. But you’re not supposed to let this type of thing get under your skin and affect your performance, and this is definitely affecting your performance.”

He was right. He was always right. I was a servant. I needed to focus on completing my duties as a servant, and trust that the royal family had my best interests in mind. Letting myself get stuck on these things would only negatively affect my behavior. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

He stared at me for another moment. “You need to stop crying.”

“I know. My apologies.”

“My mom is- the queen is going to have my head if you’re all sniffly and jumpy like this after dinner. You get the rest of the time it takes me to fill this out, maybe three minutes, and then you need to be able to keep yourself composed.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Thank you.” Three minutes. I breathed as deeply and quietly as I could manage. Three minutes was enough. It would have to be.

~

Taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox

ps: sorry I swear I was going to punish onyx in this chapter but ryan thinks he gets to monologue every time I write him. BUT next chapter's first draft is done, I've just gotta edit it, so onyx will for sure be hurt soon.

[capseycartwright]

tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease

Ease. The absence of difficulty or effort.

Buck wasn't sure if he'd ever experienced true ease, in his life - and maybe he should have realised, when he had to turn to Eddie to explain what it meant to feel at ease, but Buck was known for being sort of oblivious.

ao3 link

Ease. The absence of difficulty or effort. That’s how it was defined on the internet, at least – Buck knew because he had looked it up, after his conversation with Bobby. It’s not like it was the word itself he was unfamiliar with – no, it was the feeling that Buck didn’t recognise. Ease – it felt like it should be something so easy, and so familiar, and yet Buck wasn’t sure if he had ever experienced the feeling. He certainly never felt at ease in the Buckley household growing up, their suburban home haunted by ghosts that Buck had only recently learned of the existence of, and ease hadn’t come after that either, as happy as he was in Los Angeles.

Ease.

Buck felt absolutely plagued by the word.

He knew Bobby was right.

Buck was a lot of things, but he was aware of his own failings – or, really, he was aware of what he lacked, and he knew at barely 30 – because could you claim an age when you’d only worn the numbers as a badge for two and a half months, now? – he still had a lot left to learn, and he was fine with that. He supposed, really, it wasn’t even about being interim captain at all, if he was willing to dig deep into the depths of why he felt so completely and utterly rocked by Bobby’s decision to make Lucy interim captain over him. It was more that Buck’s job felt like the only good, consistent thing in his life, amongst the wreckage of his failed relationships, and if he wasn’t succeeding at his job – was he succeeding at anything?

It had definitely sent him spiralling. Buck could admit that.

Ease.

He didn’t know what that meant to him, honestly.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.”

Eddie’s words roused Buck from his stupor, Buck suddenly aware that he had been staring out the window, scrubbing the same clean plate over, and over, for the last ten minutes. It wasn’t behaviour Eddie was going to let him wave away, he knew, and so Buck shrugged.

“I’m just thinking.”

Eddie fixed him with a curious look. Eddie did that, a lot – fixed him with the kind of stare that made Buck feel as though his best friend could read his every thought. “Are you still upset that Bobby didn’t pick you to be interim captain?” the ask wasn’t accusatory, or condescending – it was a genuine question. Buck appreciated that about Eddie, he never made Buck feel silly for the fact he sometimes did tend to overreact to things.

(“You’re allowed to have big emotions,” Eddie grinned, ever the father, repeating a speech that Buck had heard him give Christopher before: encouraging his son to feel his big emotions and overwhelming feelings and talk about them, too. Eddie was a great dad.)

Buck sighed, setting the dish on the counter, using the dish towel he’d tossed aside earlier to dry off his hands. He’d ripped the rubber gloves Eddie kept in his house for Buck’s sake, and his hands felt grim, and dry, the dish soap sucking all the moisture out of his skin. He hated doing dishes – but Eddie had cooked, and Buck was nothing if not an egalitarian when it came to their friendship: if Eddie cooked, Buck cleaned.

“I’m not upset about that,” Buck said, shaking his head when Eddie raised an eyebrow in response. “No, really – I’m not. I was, I’m not pretending that I wasn’t upset, because I was, but it’s not – it’s not that,” he paused. He could tell Eddie this. Right? Of course he could, because Eddie was his best friend, and he told Eddie everything, and maybe a problem shared was a problem halved, and all that. “Bobby said something to me the other day, and it’s been playing on my mind.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed, the expression unfamiliar these days, given the way Eddie tended to be so much happier, these days. He – Eddie looked good, these days. He’d put a lot of work in, over the months, and he looked better – happier, healthier, his face filled out again, the thinness brought about by months of depression and anxiety replaced with bright eyes and flushed cheeks and a healthier, happier version of his best friend. Buck knew it wasn’t easy to put the work in the way that Eddie had done, and it made Buck all the prouder.

“What did he say?”

“In AA, there’s this idea that you take inventory of your life, admit your shortcomings – in the hopes that one day, you can look the world straight in the eye, and be alone at perfect peace, and ease,” Buck quipped. He’d thought about it so much, since he and Bobby had spoken, that the words felt like they were directly imprinted on his brain.

Eddie was quiet, for a second. “That makes sense, right?” he questioned, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was wearing a flannel shirt Buck didn’t recognise, the sleeves rolled to the elbow, Eddie’s sweatpants a few inches too long and dragging on the ground. It was a comfortable outfit, and that in itself wasn’t ground-breaking, but the fact Eddie was happy to wear it was. It was something Buck had realised, early on in his friendship with Eddie – he didn’t like to appear vulnerable to people, even through something as simple as wearing some slouchy clothes, and it meant a lot that he trusted Buck enough to be entirely comfortable.

Buck huffed out a breath. “I don’t know.”

read the rest on ao3

[thepenultimateword]

Please Don't Leave me: Part 5

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

"So, how did you two meet?"

The table of middle-aged and elderly women eyed Supervillain like a flock of hungry, well-dressed hawks.

The frilled collar of the criminal’s dress shirt squeezed uncomfortably, digging a banded indent around the circumference of their throat, and especially now, with crumbs of dry shortbread and nerves caught against the roof of their mouth, they were finding it difficult to speak. It seemed ridiculous that someone of their reputation and standing should be intimidated by a group of feeble, defenseless ladies, but they were important to Hero; Supervillain needed them to like them.

"Well, Supervillain is the one who drove me to ER when I got injured," Hero said from the seat beside them. Supervillain took their voice as an excuse to look at them again, chin-length hair curled around their ears and a silver-plated onyx bolo tie pressed in the hollow of their throat. Never had Supervillain been so grateful for a period dress code.

Hero's hand crept toward where Supervillain's spread flat on the table, barely brushing their fingertips before retreating. Supervillain ached to take it, but Hero needed to get comfortable asserting themselves. Up to this point, Supervillain had been divvying out most of the physical affection, and they didn't want Hero to feel like they couldn't do the same. Yes, their relationship change was still recent, so insecurity was normal, but better if that was banished as soon as possible, and if that meant stepping back a bit and letting Hero move at their own speed, that was fine.

Supervillain kept the hand in place just in case, using their non-dominant one to lift their cup of blueberry lemon tea to their lips and wash away the dry anxiety.

"But why take so much care with a total stranger? You don't have one of those hero complexes, do you?" one of the women, Renee, said.

"No,” Sasha said kindly. “I’m sure they just liked how well Hero looked in their hero suit.”

“Isn’t that what a hero complex is?”

Supervillain choked, a few drops of purple flecking the white ruffles cascading down their front.

"Oh!" Hero said, dabbing at them with a napkin while Supervillain coughed and cleared their throat.

"Hero seemed a little nervous about being alone," they finally croaked, ultra-aware of the Hero’s hands, on their chest, meticulously carding through the fabric. "So I stayed."

Hero fixated on the stain as they added, "And then I asked them to come back if they had time."

"So I kept coming back until..."

"Until I was discharged, and it came out we liked each other."

They blushed and couldn't meet Supervillain's eyes as they said it and this time Supervilllain couldn't help themselves, cupping their cheek in their hand and feeling every delicate bone in the curve of their face. Such a fragile little creature. Supervillain could crush them. With one vicious blow they could break their jaw, make it a strong wrench to the left and it’d be their neck.

Hero grabbed the hand that held them in both of their own and looked up with such…such trust, that Supervillain, despite having no intention of going through with it in the first place, felt guilty for even picturing such an act.

How did someone as twisted as them end up with someone as innocent as this?

"Well, they can cook,” said a woman with silver growing in at the temples of her rich, raven hair. Supervillain didn’t remember her name, but maybe they should with how much she was enjoying their pan of mini-quiches. “They must be real spouse material."

"Janie!" Hero exclaimed, immediately pulling out of Supervillain’s touch.

Supervillain loved the way they colored and tugged their hair in front of their face.

"What? You don't want to marry me?" Supervillain smirked.

"It's not that," Hero spluttered, "It's- It's just we've only been dating for a few days and I really don't think we should rush--"

"I'm kidding, Hero," Supervllain interrupted, steadying their fluttering fingers. It was a cute little tic they’d picked up on recently. When Hero felt nervous, they couldn’t help but fidget, twist, or hover their hands around things.

"O-oh."

Supervillain's cold heart swelled. Seriously, how had this happened? That night had been terrible, and in Supervillain's experience, terrible things usually continued to be terrible; they didn't lead to wonderful gifts like Hero.

Once again, Sasha came to the sort of rescue and changed the subject. "Hero, when do you think you'll go back to w--"

Hero quickly leaned across the table and seized the half-full water pitcher. "Um, I should refill this."

They'd received the prosthetic a couple days ago, a curved blade mostly used by athletes, and they'd been practicing nearly every instant since. When they weren't in therapy, Supervillain helped them balance, and without Supervillain, they held onto anything sturdy and in reach. Even so, walking on their own was definitely not within their abilities. So of course, Hero only needed to take one rash step toward the apartments to stumble and tip.

Supervillain quickly pushed out of their seat and caught their arms before they could get a faceful of grassy turf, sloshing a wave of icy water over Hero's hands and the toes of Supervillain's shoes.

"What was that?" Supervillain said, firmly pushing a slightly shocked Hero back into their chair. "You know you can't walk on your own yet. I can refill that for you, just ask."

They grabbed the slick glass on either side, but Hero didn't let go.

"I can do it," they said stubbornly. "Sasha's apartment is right there, and I can walk a bit on my own now. I just stood up too fast."

"You cannot."

"I can, I practiced on my own until--"

"Hero," Supervillain said sternly, causing the vigilante's lips to press together. "You're surgery wound has barely closed, if you keep practicing so hard, you're going to aggravate it. Stop trying to do everything yourself."

"But I do need to walk on my own," Hero protested.

"Yes, one day. Not now." Supervillain crouched down in front of them and tried to ignore the sharp eyes of five very nosy tea party guests. "Why are you pushing yourself?"

"I only have two weeks left!"

It must have burst out unexpectedly because Hero immediately clapped their hand over their mouth.

Supervillain furrowed their brow. "For what?"

Hero shook their head. Were they really not going to tell them?

"For what, Hero?" they repeated firmer, finally working the pitcher from their hands and setting it back on the checkered tablecloth.

"To...return to the agency..." Hero mumbled. "I only have a month of recovery before I lose the job...and I've already wasted too much. time..."

Supervillain wasn't sure what they were feeling right now; it was a mixture of several emotions. Maybe it showed on their face because Hero's expression turned a little anxious.

They turned to their party guests. "We're going on a quick walk. Promise I'll be back in time to help clean up." They nodded at Supervillain, and they quickly held onto their arm as they caught their balance and tottered to the gate.

"My car is right there," Supervillain said, nodding toward the street, "why don't we go on a drive instead?"

Hero shifted a little beneath their hand to rest their fingers in the crook of their arm. "Can we please practice walking? Just for a little while longer?"

"Fine."

For the first few minutes, Hero was quiet, only concentrating on their steps. They moved slow and careful, and the longer they were in the street, the more people stared at their outfits, but Supervillain patiently waited for a spot where the traffic wasn't so loud to speak.

"I didn't know you were planning on returning to hero work," they said evenly.

"You thought...I was a civilian now..." Hero realized. They paused to think about that for a long time before tentatively saying, "Does that change things?"

No. Yes. Did it? It definitely meant conflict, and aside from the dregs of Supervillain’s guilt, they hadn’t any yet. It seemed so simple when their lives weren’t warring ideals. Furthermore, the hero agency had rules on fraternization.

“I don’t know,” they said. Then, a thought occurring to them, “If it’s about the money, you could work for me, or if that makes you uncomfortable I could at least make some calls.”

“It’s not the money. Or, well, not only the money. I actually believe in this Supervillain.” Their shoulders shrank. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you even apologizing? I’m not going to hate you for believing something different than I do. …Though aren’t you worried? About the agency? Even if I weren’t a villain, I’d say they’re a terrible system. They don’t care about you.”

“Yeah… But maybe I can change that. Once I get big enough. I wanted to help civilians, but I think I’d like to help heroes too. We don’t…we don’t really have anyone looking out for us. I just got lucky with you.”

They nudged Supervillain in the ribs a little shyly.

A strange shock ran up the criminal’s spine. A hero’s hero. What a strange predicament for a villain to be in.

When Supervillain didn’t respond right away, Hero grimaced.

“Should we…break up?”

“No! No. It’s only…”

They stopped, appreciating the subconscious dig of Hero’s nails in their arm as if they were something loose and important that need to be pinned down.

“We’d be fighting each other,” Supervillain reminded them.

“Yeah.”

Another long silence followed, not uncomfortable, just tense. Hero loosened their grip of Supervillain a little and tried to balance a few steps on their own. They had improved a little since yesterday. Just how long had they been practicing? Had they gotten enough sleep? We’re they in any pain? They were so proud of them.

It hit them. The hero agency set so many rookies up to fail, and Hero wasn’t having any of it. By returning to work, they were proving a point that the agency had made mistakes not treating every other discarded hero like an asset. They were creating a change.

Supervillain took Hero by the arm again as they stepped off the street curb, tucking a piece of hair behind their ear once they reached the other side to get them to look up.

“Be the best hero you can be,” Supervillain said firmly. Hero’s eyes widened. “Be the best there is. Put that egotistic Superhero in his place. I’ll be with you all the way.”

Taglist: @annablogsposts @glitterylightmilkshake @deckofaces @sink-the-ship @arcanistarson @neverthelass @rae-kr @wolfeyedwitch @suspiciousmuffin @briars7 @lunatic-moss-studio @classicplesiosaur

Ugh...not my favorite part of this series, but I wrote so much I didn't want to delete it... This was me extending the series one part further since I was so grateful for all the loves it's recieved, so still expect that epilogue to come next!

[let-love-run-red]

Daisies

His crown is made of daisies, his heart was made for you

Female reader

Ao3 Link

The Princess's knight was one of high pedigree. His father was a royal guard, his father’s father, his grandfather’s father, his family was the royal guard. Royal Guard ran in the man's blood. Which is why you were confused when he gave you a second glance.

You were Princess Zelda's hand maid. Really it was just a title, the Princess rarely needed or wanted help with the things you should do, such as helping her dress, doing her hair, she preferred to do it herself. That was something you admired about the princess; she took her life in her own hands. You were surprised she had heeded her father’s wishes of having an appointed knight.

When you saw the man following closely behind her you were even more surprised. That was Link, the son of Arn, the captain of the Royal Guard. You stepped out of the way of the Princess, bowing your head in the typical sign of respect.

"(y/n), how are you today?" She paused to ask. You lifted your head with a smile.

"I'm well Princess, and you?" You said kindly. She smiled.

"I'm doing very well." You heard a low huff from Link, and Zelda turned to him before rolling her eyes.

"I'm sure you know Link, (y/n)." She spoke. Link nodded his head slightly and you returned the nod with a curtsey.

"I've heard his name spoken, it's a pleasure to meet you." You said. He met your gaze evenly before turning his head away and scanning the corridor you were currently in. He surely was paranoid.

"Well, I should be heading off, have a lovely day." The princess said, turning back down the hall. You watched them go, paying close attention to Link. You wondered how things would change with him around the Princess more often.

***

As the months went on you grew closer to Link. He didn't talk very much, preferring to focus on his task of protecting the princess, but when the Princess was studying the guardians and the ancient technology you could often find him sitting a few feet away in the grass. He was more inclined for company then.

More often than not it was you talking to him, with little response. You would talk about your day, memories of the Princess, of her mother, you had managed to pull his age from him at one point. You had an inkling he was older than 18, but he confirmed he was in fact 20. The same age as you were. He was surprisingly stoic for someone so young, but you supposed that came from having Arn as his father. The man was not an easy one to impress.

"She seems to enjoy this technology." You said, plucking daisies from the grass and twisting them into a crown. You had made one for yourself already, you weren't sure why you were making another. You watched as Link pulled a daisy from the grass, pulling the tie from his hair and shaking it out. He tucked the daisy behind his ear so it nestled in his hair. You reached out tentatively, brushing your fingers through his blonde locks. He scooted back so he was sitting closer to you, pulling another daisy from the grass and handing it to you. You picked up his hint, slightly surprised.

You began to braid daisies into his hair, twisting the braids around the stems of the flowers to create a crown of daisies in his hair. He sat patiently, allowing you to put as many daisies as your heart desired. You looked up to see the Princess examining one of the guardians with Robbie at her side.

"I don't understand why, but it makes her happy." You said as you stopped braiding Lin's hair. It was now full of daisies and small braids. You toyed with the daisy crown you had set in in your lap, looking to Link to see him looking at the crown. He nodded to the crown sitting in your lap before tilting his head towards you. You set the crown atop his head, adjusting it so it was nestled into his blonde hair.

He sat up straight again, adjusting his position to hold his head high, wearing the daisies with pride. He remained silent for the rest of your "conversation," and when the time came for him to accompany the princess into the castle again, he stood carefully to keep the daisy chain on his head. As he walked away he turned back to you, giving you a small smile before following the princess into the building.

It grew from that moment. As you passed each other in the stairwell he would catch your hand, bringing it to his face to inhale the perfume on the inside of your wrist, and press a soft kiss to your knuckles before releasing it and following behind Zelda once again. A quick moment that left with heat burning in your cheeks for the rest of the day.

Sometimes, after the princess was sound asleep in her room, while he was supposed to be keeping watch outside the door, he would come find you. Often you were in the servants’ chambers, washing clothes or dishes, sometimes you would simply be relaxing. You weren't sure how he found the entrances; they were meant to be secret, but you supposed having grown up in the castle he had found nearly every secret there was in the old building.

Often times he would stand behind you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed while you did you chores. His presence was comforting to you. He was someone to talk to when the other maids and cooks had gone to sleep. You started waiting up later and later for him, hoping he would make it a regular thing to come see you.

And he had. Every night he would come see you. He started coming sooner, staying later each night, walking you to your room to leave a kiss on the back of your hand before disappearing down the hall like a ghost.

"Link has seemed more distracted lately, I'm not sure what's gotten into him." Princess Zelda had said to you one day while you helped her re-organize her closet. She had been given gifts from the champions and wanted to keep them nicely organized. You hummed as you thought of Link, his lips on your skin, how warm his hands were when he held your own, how strong they were yet how soft his touch was.

"I wonder if it's Mipha." The princess mused aloud. You froze for a moment, running your hand over the opal circlet that was a gift from the Zoran champion. You wondered what she could mean.

"(y/n) I'm going to tell you something and you must promise to tell no one." The Princess said, laying across her bed with her chin in her hands as she looked at you. You poked your head out of her closet, giving her a solemn nod.

"I swear on my life Princess, I won't tell a soul." You said as you crossed your heart before disappearing back into the closet to move the Rito dress to a more desirable location.

"Mipha recently told me she made a set of armor for Link." Zelda said, sounding distressed. You tilted your head, wracking your brain. Why did that feel so significant?

"Oh, forgive me, I forget you probably don't know as much about Zora. They are quite secretive." Zelda said. You heard the bed shift before she appeared in the doorway of the closet.

"Zoran Princess's make a set of Zoran armor for their future husbands! To propose!" She exclaimed. At those words you nearly dropped the topaz bracelet Urbosa had gifted the Princess. Propose? To Link? You had met Mipha, you didn't think she was his type, but you knew you couldn't compete with the Zoran champion.

"I don't know what to do (y/n), I love Link I just don't know how to tell him." She said softly. At those words you did drop the bracelet. It landed on the floor with a clatter and you scrabbled to pick it up.

"I'm sorry Princess, I, it slipped." You said, standing and facing her. She took your hands gently in her own.

"It's alright, nothing was damaged." She said. You looked up at her and saw concern painting her features. She placed her hand against your cheek, still holding your hands in one of her own.

"Are you feeling alright? You look pale." She said. She guided you out of the closet, gently taking the bracelet and setting it on her bedside table before leading you to the door.

"You should go rest, you look sick. I can handle the rest of this." She said softly before dismissing you. You bowed your head before stepping out of the door. Link was standing against the door, head turned to look at you as you left the room. He was standing with his feet spaced apart, back straight, arms folded in front of him. He looked strong, you could see why Mipha and the Princess pined for him. You shook your head with tears in your eyes before walking towards the servants’ quarters. You could hear Link's boots on the stone floor. You could imagine him struggling to choose between following you and guarding the princess.

He stayed, in the end. He remained with the princess to fulfill his duty to protect her. But you could have predicted that yourself.

***

That night he came down to the servants’ quarters at the same time as always. You had tried to finish your chores early, so you could avoid him, but he caught you while you were washing up the dishes. You refused to speak to him, to even acknowledge he was standing behind you.

You angrily scrubbed at the plates and bowls, stacking them on the drying rack next to you to dry before they could be replaced. One of the plates slipped out of your hands, breaking into pieces. You reached down to pick up the pieces only to have the palm of your hand sliced open. You let out a hiss and pulled your hand from the water. Great, now you would have to rewash all the plates left in the basin. You examined the cut on your hand that was oozing blood, looking for a towel to press to it.

Link stepped forward, gently taking your hand in his own. You resisted the urge to pull away as he turned your hand palm up, taking the white kerchief from his pocket and wrapping it around your hand and tying a neat little knot on the back of your hand to cover your wound. He lifted your hand to his own, kissing your knuckles again before looking up into your eyes. You swore you could drown in his deep blue eyes. You could drown in him, his presence even.

"Mipha made you a set of armor." You whispered softly as you looked into his eyes. He seemed confused, before it clicked for him. He remained silent.

"And the princess, she has feelings for you as well." You said, pulling your hand away from his and turning back to where the plate had broken, carefully removing the pieces and setting them off to the side.

"You would be a fool to reject either one of them." You said as you continued your work. He was silent behind you, but you could tell he was there by the warmth that radiated from him. You could even tell he had stepped closer, could hear his breaths beside you.

"And I know I can't compete with royalty, so please, just tell me what to expect." You said. You doubted he would speak on the matter. You had sprung this on him so suddenly, he would of course need time to think.

"Should I be prepared for the princess’s wedding, or one of the Zoran princess's?" You asked him. He was silent. You let your shoulders sag. You knew he wouldn't respond, but, you had hoped.

Link reached towards you, gently resting his fingertips on your jaw to turn your head towards him. He moved his hand to rest on your cheek, meeting your gaze. He took your hand, the uninjured one, in his free hand and placed your palm against his chest. You felt his heart beating strong and slow under your fingertips.

"It beats for you." He said. His voice was smooth and comforting, you wished you could listen to him speak all day.

"Don't say that." You said, trying to pull your hand away. Although you didn't resist when Link placed his hand over yours to hold it against his chest.

"Don't say things you don't mean." You whispered. He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not a liar, (y/n)." He said. He turned you so he was standing between you and the basin, placing both hands on your cheeks and looking into your eyes. He leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you. You could feel his heartbeat quicken as he leaned in, and you closed your eyes as your lips met. It was electrifying. His lips were soft and gentle, they moved in perfect sync with yours. You found yourself never wanting to pull away from him. He was warm and welcoming, strong, handsome, you could feel yourself being pulled in and you didn't mind.

Finally, when he pulled away you saw him holding a necklace with a diamond set in the center of a silver pendant. You cocked your head as you looked between his face and the necklace. What was it for?

"My mother," he paused, clearing his throat, "my mother told me to give this to the one who made me happy." He said, taking one end of the chain in each hand, offering to place it around your neck.

"She told me to give it to the one who made me laugh, who made me smile, who made me feel safe." He said. You turned around, and he expertly clasped the necklace behind your neck, letting the pendant rest against your chest.

"That's you." He said. You turned back around and placed your hand back against his chest. His heart was beating rapidly, you could almost hear it in the quiet room.

"What about the Princess? Or Mipha?" You asked in confusion as you touched the silver pendant.

"They're my friends," He said, "but you, I will love you until I die." He placed his hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he met your gaze evenly.

"And I will keep loving you until I'm forgotten." You rested your head against him, hearing his heart beating in his chest. You stood there with him for a moment, absorbing everything that had just been said.

When you finally pulled away, his face was concerned. He opened his mouth to speak, taking a deep breath.

"Tomorrow, the Princess is going to the Spring of Wisdom at Mount Lanayru." He said, running his hands up and down your arms, squeezing your biceps like he was making sure you were real.

"I'm aware, she told me last week." You said, confusion evident in your voice.

"Listen to me." He held your shoulders, looking earnestly into your eyes.

"When she leaves, sneak down to the stables, take a horse. A fast horse." He said. Now you were thoroughly confused, what was he talking about?

"Look at me (y/n), please. Run to Hateno village. There's a house over a bridge, it's mine, please stay there." He said. Was he asking you to run away with him?

"Link what are you talking about?" You asked. He pursed his lips, letting out a breath as his eyebrows furrowed.

"I have a bad feeling about tomorrow. Please, stay as far away from the castle as you can." He begged before pulling you into his chest for another hug. You felt him press his lips against your temple. You nodded against his chest, and finally felt him relax.

"I promise I'll come for you." He said. "When it's safe."

***

There was a picture on the sheikah slate. One that didn't make sense to him. He stood near the remains of the guardian he had just destroyed, avoiding the eye of the sky watchers as he looked to the clump of weeds and brambles near the building, where he had been sitting.

In the picture it was sunny. The sun shone on his back; he could feel the warmth emanating from the photo. He knew the location, remembered Zelda's routine of studying the guardians in the same area he was standing now. But, the girl. He didn't remember her.

In the photo he was sitting in the grass with his back to a girl of about his age. She had (h/c) hair and nimble hands. He had his eyes closed with a soft smile on his face while she braided daisies into his hair, with a crown of daisies sitting in her lap and a matching one on her head.

Something about the picture was familiar, calming, it made his heart beat faster and his palms sweat, but why? Why did it make his knees weak and make him wish he could go back, more than any of the other photos on the slate?

He took a step forward, digging through the bramble and finding a single white daisy growing hidden, tucked away from this evil in a safe thicket. He pulled it from the ground, inhaling the sweet scent of the flower. With that smell, everything came flooding back to him as it hit him like a guardian laser.

You.

He remembered you. He remembered the smell of your perfume, your soft skin against his own when he held your hands, coming to see you every night, stolen kisses in the stairwells and hidden corners. He remembered the night he gave you his mother’s necklace, telling you he would love you until he was forgotten. He remembered taking you to his bed that night and loving you until the sun peeked over the horizon.

He remembered the day he felt himself falling for you. The day in this picture, the day you braided daisies into his hair and placed a crown on his head, talking to him as if he wasn't the Princess's knight. As if he was nothing more than your friend, another Hylian who couldn't be plucked from a crowd of 100 instead of the Hylian champion.

He remembered your patience with him when he refused to speak. How you would watch his face closely for reactions rather than words as you spoke. He felt longing wash over him as his chest ached. It ached like he was dying again, it ached the way it did when he realized each of the champions was dead, but it hurt worse than that. He turned, leaping onto his horses back and turning it down the path away from the castle, riding straight to Hateno village.

***

You were working on chores around Link's small house when you looked down the hill and saw the white horse run wildly through the village. You shook your head. Sometimes the traveling merchants were in too much of a hurry to be cautious of the children around the village. You let out a sigh, dusting the photos on the night stand off while you toyed with the necklace sitting against your chest.

Purah had used you as a guinea pig for her anti-aging technology. It had worked on you, turning you back exactly 100 years. But on Purah, she had used more because she was older than you, but it had turned her into a six-year-old physically. You had laughed that day, for the first time in a while you laughed.

You opened the door with a basket full of clothes with the intention of washing them in the pond behind the stable. You closed the door behind you, turning to walk around the house. You froze in your tracks when you saw a man in a red tunic and brown pants standing in the field, stroking the nose of the black horse you had in the pasture with his back to you. You noticed the same white horse that had torn through town and huffed. Now the merchants had gone too far. You set the basket on the corner of the fence and wiped your hands on your pants before approaching him.

"Excuse me? You do realize you're on private property?" You called. He didn't turn to you, instead continuing to pet the horse. You huffed and stormed towards him. Your horse lifted his head, snorting with his ears pricked forward towards the man. What had gotten into him? You opened your mouth to speak again, only to be rendered speechless when the man turned to face you.

Standing in front of you, with his soft blue eyes and warm smile, was Link. Link, the same age as the day the calamity fell, with a single white daisy tucked behind his ear.

[emile-hides]

H*lding H*nds Imagines

I am once again making content for me and me alone because I have an unhealthy obsession for BNHA blond boys

BNHA Blond Boys X GN!Reader h*nd h*lding moments

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Twice, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

Knuckle brush

You handed him things before

Stacks of papers to grade, coffee after a long day, a napkin when he goes into a coughing fit

But something about this time turns his face a deep red

He withdrew quickly, in a jerking manner that dragged more attention than you’re sure he meant it to

He cleared this throat and thanked you quietly before shuffling off

It took a few moments to really set on you

You’d made contact

Such little contact you’d barely even felt it

He was cold, his skin rough and calloused, wrinkled and dry

How you managed to notice so much with such brief contact is astounding

And also incomparable to how much he noticed

He’s thinking about it all day, glancing at where the contact was made, shuffling, flushing to himself, holding his knuckles to his lips

Do it on purpose next time you hand him a stack of papers and he’ll drop them

Present Mic

In a crowd

It’s LOUD

You and Hizashi are trying to get home after a live show

The crowd is huge and still hyped from the concert

The quarters are tight, the space is limited, and without his towering hair spike it’s hard to keep track of your loud blond

Eventually a strong clasp from a hand horribly decorated in rings, fingerless gloves, and black nail polish claps on your wrist as your continued to be pulled though a crowd

When the world finally starts to calm and you have room to breath his hand slides to connect to your palm

Fingers intertwine with yours as a series of “Y’all good?”s start, followed quickly by an excited narration of the chaos that just ensued

He’d taken your hand so causally you barely even noticed

The two of you walked in a much calmer crowd, hand in hand, as Hizashi randomly picked bystanders out of his vocal range and made up their life stories to tell you

Fatgum

Big hands

You laid idly on the couch in Fatgum’s office, the interns long sense gone home

A pile of paperwork blocked your view of your hard working hero as he sat at his desk

You slumped and slid off the couch, boredom rising as you phone lie dead on the table nearby

A loud groan drives a “Just a bit longer, gumdrop” from behind the piles of unfinished work, a bit longer could be years for all you cared

Sliding across the hardwood floor on your back, you found yourself beside Taishiro’s desk, looking up at him from an angle you were rather use to

He was focused, with a smile still on his face as he worked, writing with one hand, the other causually turning Takoyaki in the grill built into his desk

You sat up, watching quietly. He was typically pretty observant, but he may not yet have noticed your approach

When his hand stopped turning and released, you took your chance

Both your hands snatched his wrist, sitting up a bit to rest yourself on his lap, you examined his large palm

He chuckled, “What’cha doin’, cupcake?”

His hand was massive in your own, enough to make anyone feel like a child. It could engulf you, hold half your torso and still have a pinkie to spare

You pressed on his palm, he hummed and returned to work, leaving you to admire as you pleased

His knuckles were scarred, several gashes and scrapes from punching at materials harder than even his fat could handle

Old burns from cooking, white spots on his finger tips from a time before he learned patients

You leaned back on him, holding his hand in your own, and watched him work

He seemed much more blissed from your company

Twice

Not enough hands

Jin’s a very physical person

He hangs off you every chance he can get, coddling and loving on you

He finds it annoying

So it’s not surprise as you two settled down for a movie night he was instantly on your lap like a cat

He lays over you like a blanket, limbs tangled every which way, head on your chest, looking at you more than the movie

One of your hands lay idly by your head, that one he has his own over, fingers tangled messily, almost uncomfortably

His other arm trapped under you, a hug from below, resting also uncomfortably against your spine

Leaving your free hand to tangle in his hair, a rare sight to have his mask off, though it probably wouldn’t last the whole movie, it should be cherished until then

When you notice his staring at you more than the screen, you choose to join him

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, he leans into it with the most lovestruck puppydog look a man his age could muster

He then starts to fidget around, moving like he’s stuck

It doesn’t take long from there for him to start getting frustrated with himself, splitting an argument for two between just him

You gently lift his head to regain eye contact and ask what’s wrong

He nearly starts crying

“I want to hold your cheek too but I don’t have enough hands!!”

He’s not willing to remove your hand from his hold or pull his other arm out from under you to compromise his own needs

He does eventually start crying over his lack of extra limbs to love you with

Aoyama

Standing ovation

Roaring applause rippled thought the auditorium

It wasn’t a big show, or a big stage, but it was your first written play, and seeing it go over so well was enough to bring a tear to your eyes

You joined the audience in standing to applause as the actors took the stage for the final bow

Only the lead, your star, wasn’t there with them

You blinked once, twice, three times before panic set in

There’s no way Yuga Aoyama would miss the chance to stand center stage in a spotlight. If he wasn’t on stage something must have happened

You tried your best not to look around too fervently, not wanting to startle anyone else

When a hand clasped yours

“And let’s not forget the playwright~✨”

Before you could question how he said that with his mouth, you were dragged onto the stage by your previously mentioned star, with his own mic in hand you don’t remember giving him

He held your arm up above his head as he runway walked his way along the stage, you closely in toe

You were going to go on stage eventually but you’d planned to be a lot more quiet about it, when more people had left early not wanting to sit though the applause

But instead, here you were, center stage, hand held high like you’d just won a boxing match by your own and only Aoyama

How he could stand being this bright all the time way beyond you

For now though, it was rather nice 

Ojiro

Lost and found

You stepped out of your class stretching, ready for a well deserved lunch break when you heard your classmates muttering

“Isn’t he from the hero course?”

“What’s he doing?”

Being nosy wasn’t usually your strong suit, but the mutterings has peaked your interest

You followed the eyes of those speaking to find a blond boy sitting in the floor of the hall, knees pulled to his chest to keep his legs from disrupting the flow of traffic, with his tail resting over his feet to protect them from being stepped on

He smiled and gave a light wave to your class as the dispersed

You alone approached him, curiosity peaking. Why was he sitting out here in the hall?

When question he very sheepishly answered, “I, uh.. I got lost on my way to class”

There was several things wrong with that

Number one being, he’d been at this school half a year now. He has one classroom, a big classroom, in the hero course. It’s not easy to miss??

Number two, it was noon. Lunchtime. He has one classroom. How long had he been lost???

These questions had answers and he was, while slightly embarrassed, happy to share he had, in fact, been lost all morning. Not just in finding his class, but also in finding the exit to the building, any teachers he knew, or his phone to call for help

You began to feel sorry for the guy, as this seemed to be a common occurrence in his daily life

With a sigh, you offered your hand to help him up

It was lunch, for all courses, so surely he’d see his hero course classmates in the cafeteria. No one turns up Lunchrush’s food after all

He smiled and took your hand, lifting himself from the floor with a thankyou

“I’m Ojiro, by the way. You are...?”

He was rather polite to talk to the entire walk, his grip on your hand was soft, gentle, and his smile never seemed to waver

Kaminari

Swing yer partner round and round

“Oh this is my JAM!”

Mina excitedly turned up your shitty little radio before kicking herself up off the floor, grabbing Sero all in one quick motion

The two danced horribly off beat, you quickly guess Mina had never heard this song before in her life, just wanted to get moving

“Come on you two, it’s dance break time!”

You found yourself enraptured with her energy, already forgetting the homework you all were doing

Kaminari took your hand much like how Mina took Sero’s and began to dance just as off beat and spuratic as queen pinkie had

You laughed, stumbling with every step, same as the others, the giggling energy filling a previously silent room

Denki’s fingers dug into your knuckles as he smirked, suddenly spinning on his heel and dragging you with him

The two of you became a tornado in your tiny dorm room, barely keeping from knocking into your tea table as you spun like a couple of children

You could hear Mina cheer and laugh, a brief glanced told you Sero was recording this silly moment

You looked across the way at your dance partner

Spinning, laughing his head off like this was the most fun he’d ever had, eyes closed, caring not for his surroundings

You decided to let go

The momentum sent you both toppling, you safely into Mina, who was more then ready to catch you

Denki got the much less desirable aforementioned tea table, which sent him toppling backwards over the also aforementioned homework

If you all could have laughed any louder, you would

Bakugo

Sweaty hands

You always knew when Bakugo was going to hold your hand

He may think he’s smooth, wiping his hand on the pocket of his pants before reaching behind himself to grab at you

But you’d always notice

It was a good indicator you were walking too slow for his liking, or the area up ahead was crowed, or that he simply felt you were too far away

You couldn’t initiate holding hands, when he didn’t actively want to be in contact he’d keep his hands shoved deep in his pockets

So you just had to wait for him to wipe himself off and reach for you

You were free to wrap yourself around his arm whenever, though

He’ll look pissed, but won’t say a word

And if you move away, he’ll wipe his hand on his pants, and offer it to you, a silent plea for you to come back

Honenuki

Magic hands

You stretched out over the couch of the 1-B common room with a whine, the rest of your class in a similar state

Training was hell today, sparing with class 1-A was never a joke, and with Monoma egging the whole game up to be more than it should have been, it all just escalated to a point you all wish it hadn’t

“Alright, next.”

Honenuki, a godsend, your blessed angel, helped Tsuburaba off the second common room couch, his typically wide eyes closed and relaxed as he wobbled his way across the room

You happily took his place, stretching out on your stomach before your classmate with the magic powers of massage

His hands pressed into your back and you instantly relaxed, letting out a low hum as you snuggled the pillow under your chin

Honenuki returned your hum, his hands pressing into all your tenses spots, almost instantly releasing them from their knots

You’d probably have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t over so fast

He had the entire class to get though after all, though he hated to rush an art form

You took his hand as he helped you stand, the actual minute of his touch enough to wobble your legs

Kissing his knuckle and thanking him for sharing his magic, you found yourself plopped peacefully on the couch beside Tsuburaba

Honenuki chuckled at you as he called next, happy to be of service

Monoma

He’s showing off

You’d known for a while now Monoma didn’t know how to shut the fuck up

He’d brag about anything, over anyone, to everyone

He’d always loudly bragged about how much better his class was, how much stronger his friendships were, how absolutely amazing his partner was

You being said partner didn’t make said bragging less annoying

The two of you had been together less than an hour and he was already boasting about your perfection to all who would hear

Some genuine, loving, almost gaggingly sweet comments

Others just to rub it in the face of class 1-A as much as possible

A week into this relationship and people were starting to think you must be come kind of god with how Monoma spoke about you

You’d been on two dates with the guy

Now here you were, holding his hand on the walk to class, and regretting every step

As every single person who passed must take note of the fact you were holding his hand

And also must be aware how blessed he is to be holding your hand in return

And really you started to understand the concerned look Kendo gave you when you told her you’d agreed to date Neito Monoma

Still his words were genuine, no matter how they came across, and he truly had a million and one things to say about you

So you could hold though the embarrassment his overexcited bragging may cause

He just wants to show you off

Mirio

Quietly

You sat by his bed side, holding gently to his limp hand

Moments ago he was inconsolable, crying and screaming his lungs out

His quirk gone

His teacher gone

Everything he worked so hard for seemed to vanish in an instant

His grip, still so strong, had left your hand bruised, circulation cut off

It wasn’t a concern you really had

Sleeping, his pain was still so obvious

Bags under his eyes, dried streaks of tears still down his keeps

And your hand still tightly gripped in his

What would happen next, where he would go, who you all would become

They were all problems for the future

Tomorrow you could work on a solution

Tonight, you could hold his hand

[butwhyduh]

Pregnancy scare with the Batboys?

These all happen at different times in their lives. Dick at 24, Jason 26, and Tim 20 because I feel like that’s the ages they’d like have this.

Warning: it’s gotta little bit of everything. Fluff, smut, convenience story robbery, blood, one little crude sex joke.

Dick

“I stopped at the store and got everything we need before the store comes in. Even got those pad tampon things you use,” Dick said waving the box proudly. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the box.

“And what prompted that?” You asked, eyes narrowed.

“A coupon deal on them,” Dick answered and you laughed.

“That makes more sense. Let me put these up and I’ll cook dinner,” you said, walking to the bathroom.

“Nope! I’m cooking,” Dick said happily.

“Okay,” you said planning to help him anyways.

You walked in the bathroom to put the box in your usual drawer only to find it full. When was the last time you needed one? You did the math and realized that it’s been almost 2 months. With your university schedule being crazy and Dick got hurt a few weeks ago, you’d forgotten all about your period.

You skin chilled at the thought. What if you were- what if you were pregnant? You were too young. You were 24 but it felt too young. You were only dating. You hadn’t gotten to the kids talk yet.

“Hey babe, where is the- what’s wrong?” Dick asked from the doorway. He looked at the package in your hand and the matching one in the drawer with confusion.

“Uh, I missed my period last month,” you said and his eyes widened. “I completely forgot.”

“Oh.”

He looked at you frozen. “Wait- are you saying you might be...”

“Maybe,” you answered. “We gotta get tests and everything. And stress can mess it up. And we’ve been using protection every time.”

“Yeah. I’ll run to the store, okay?” He said before hurrying out the door. You sat on the toilet with the box still in hand. What if you were pregnant? Dick was a good guy but he didn’t exactly have a ton of money. He was a part time gymnastics teacher. You were in college.

“Okay I got 4,” Dick said, back in record time. He gave you the bag and watched you.

“Dick?”

“Hu?”

“Get out of the bathroom.”

“Oh right,” he said, leaving and shutting the door. You could hear him pacing as you took the tests. You unlocked the door as you waited for the tests to finish. A neat little row of absolute terror on the side of the bathtub.

“Are they done?” Dick asked anxiously.

“No. We wait two minutes,” you said almost hollowly with stress and he nodded roughly.

“If you are... I’ll be here. I’ll be here for whatever you decide. No matter your choice,” Dick said holding your hands. You gulped.

“Yeah. Thanks. I can’t believe I forgot,” you said with a little laugh. He hugged your shoulders.

“Things have been crazy,” Dick said with a shrug. Your phone alarm went off and you quickly looked at all of the tests. Negative. You both relaxed. You sighed in relief.

“That would have been crazy,” you said with a laugh. Dick laughed a little too. “I am not ready to be a mom.”

“Yeah. Same. I’d need a better job and a better place. Not that there’s anything wrong with our apartment but it’s too small for a baby,” Dick rambled on. He stopped when he noticed your little grin. “You know, I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you.”

You didn’t answer but pulled him in for a kiss that Dick eagerly returned before finally pulling away because you were in the bathroom surrounded by used pregnancy tests and boxes of menstrual products.

“I’ll clean up while you get dinner started. Yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dick said with a kiss to your cheek.

Jason

You’d been thinking about it for a few days with a sense of denial. Your period was late. And you were mentally freaking out. You were too young. I mean, you were 26 but it felt too young! Your relationship was too new! You had been dating for 2 years but it felt too fast!

You hurried down to a corner store that you didn’t normally visit near your apartment to grab some tests. You jumped a little when the bell on the door rang as another customer entered the store. You had been too worried and stressed about picking from the 7 different types of pregnancy tests. Were they all the same or totally different? You just wanted to know ‘baby or naw.’ You grabbed three and put them in a hand basket.

“PUT your hands up where we can see them,” a man yelled and you froze before looking up, your hands above your head, basket on your wrist. “Take off any jewelry and pull out your wallets. We’ll be taking those,” a man in a ski mask said. There were a total of 12 customers and 2 shop clerks.

You carefully pulled your crossbody bag off your shoulder and held it out. A man grabbed it roughly from you and you made a tiny noise that made him smile. He looked you over and you wanted to shrink away.

There was a loud crashing noise as the side glass was broken and a man with a pair of guns blazing stood in the middle. The bright red helmet let you know that it was Jason and you almost sagged in relief. Almost. He pointed the gun at both criminals and shot at their knees. The rubber bullets hit them both in the knees and they fell before you could even move. He quickly punched them both in the head and they lost consciousness. Jason roughly tied them up by the register and everyone started to leave the building quickly while grabbing their things.

Jason grabbed you and pulled you from the building and up to the roof, basket still on your wrist. He rolled his helmet off and looked you over.

“Are you alright?” He asked holding your face in his hands. You grasped his wrists.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him. He looked you over before his eyes fell to the basket. Jason froze as he looked at the contents. A candy bar and 3 pregnancy tests.

“Are you? Why do you have these?” He asked, looking at your face quickly. You sat the basket down.

“Maybe,” you answered quietly. His mouth opened a little as if you speak but he didn’t. “I mean, I’m late.”

“Okay. Alright,” he said nodding. “We just need to test first. God, you were almost shot and you might be pregnant.”

He pulled you tightly in his arms until the armor pressed against you. Jason’s lips pressed against the side of your head. For one of the first times, he looked scared.

Back at your apartment, you could hear Jason pacing as you took the test. You unlocked the door and he came in, staring at them. Neither one of you spoke before the results came in. Negative. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“I would have been there for you. No matter what. But I’m glad that it’s negative. We should plan this stuff, you know? My job... it’s too dangerous,” Jason said carefully.

“I know. We can’t,” you said with a dry smile.

“I’d quit. If you were. So that you and the baby would be safe,” he said and you quickly looked at him.

“You shouldn’t have to,” you said.

“But I would.”

Tim

Tim’s hands were tight on your hips as he thrust in your from behind and you couldn’t stop making little noises. God, were you always this tight? He could barely control himself and the second you clamped around him in pleasure, Tim came as well. Both of you panted as he roughly and slowly thrust through your highs. Tim pushed in deeply before stopping to catch his breath and then pulling out.

“Fuck,” he said in a terrified voice. You turned to look at him confused. “The condom came off.”

Your eyes widened at the implication. “Did you- did you finish inside?” You asked as cold panic flooded your body. You were only using condoms at this point in time.

“Yeah. Definitely,” he said, looking down and in literally any other situation he would have loved the sight before him. His cum leaked out of you and Tim winced.

After a few minutes of trying to finally get the useless condom out, you were almost in full freak out. You were only 20. You couldn’t get pregnant!

“I’ll get plan B. Unless you don’t want it,” Tim said looking at you.

“Good idea. We definitely need that,” you said nodding. “But you can’t go to the store and buy plan B. Timothy Drake-Wayne buys plan B. Playboy like his father Bruce Wayne? I could just see the headline. I’ll go.”

“Smart,” he said. You quickly took a shower and threw on clothes before running down to a pharmacy. Your heart pounded as you asked the pharmacist for a plan B but she simply gave you a box that you paid for. You took the pill before even leaving the store and threw away the evidence as if someone cared what you did.

That night you had some nausea and cramping but were fine otherwise. Tim was extra nice in the next few weeks as you both waited to see if your period would ever come. He put in effort to see you more often and stay off his phone when you were together. Finally you woke up one morning with cramps where actually pleasantly happy to see that you had finally started to bleed. That didn’t happen often.

You told Tim who sagged in relief. He didn’t even know how much tension he held in his body before releasing it. He kissed your cheek and you laughed a little.

“Never buying that brand of condoms again,” he swore.

“I’m making an appointment to get birth control,” you said and he quickly turned to you.

“Really? No more condoms?” Tim said hopefully.

“It’ll take a little while to start working but yeah,” you said with a little smile. “Then I can be your Twinkie instead of your toaster strudel,” you laughed.

“Wow. I wish I could time travel to unhear that,” Tim said covering his face with a hand while laughing.

“You know that’s a good joke,” you laughed pushing his shoulder.

“...yeah,” he said with a grin.

[bokettochild]

The Scarf Fic!!!

Inspired by This post by @sekiumiarashi and written as a gift for @into-the-linkverse

I wanted to write Ravio sharing scarves, but I accidentally found that I like writing Ravio, and more importantly, writing him and Legend like they’re a pair of elderly people, because... just because.

Giving Legend glasses was a choice that I didn’t see coming, but do not regret. I do regret Ravio’s naming scheme, but it was too funny to back out so I kept pushing. I’m not sorry that you all must suffer.​

Feel free to read this as being part of my main fic The Ties That Bind, but it can also be separate, just consider the uncle bit as being related to predecessors and stuff.

Enjoy! :)

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir wasn’t wearing his scarf.

 The one constant Ravio knew he could always count on during the war, was that the captain would be wearing that bright blue scrap of cloth with all the pride in the world, no matter what the circumstances (good grief, one time he’d stumbled upon the man bathing and the scarf had been the only thing that saved them both from embarrassment). But today, he wasn’t.

 The heroes had come to stay at Mr. Hero’s house again after a long battle, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir was currently sitting on the couch in the living room, one arm resting across it’s back and his feet propped up on the table. A scowl marred his fine features and his neck was horrifyingly naked.

 “Mr. Captain Hero Sir! Where is your scarf?” The words were out of his mouth in a moment as he looked around the captain to make sure it simply hadn’t fallen off or been laid aside (things the captain would never let happen, ever. He’d once been bleeding out and still managed to keep the trailing blue fabric out of the mud.)

 “It’s shredded.” The captain sighed, a bitter look in his eyes as he motioned down to the arm hanging from a sling around his neck. “And I’m currently unable to mend it.”

 The thought of the captain not having a scarf was so utterly horrible, simply unthinkable, that Ravio didn’t even think about what he was doing, instead bounding over to plonk himself onto the couch and quickly unwind his scarf before rewinding it around the captain’s neck (he had a dozen of these things anyway).

 “There! You can’t be without a scarf.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir smiled fondly, fingers reaching up to gently stroke the fabric. “And you can?”

 Ravio shrugged. “I have a dozen of those, keep it, it looks fabulous on you!”

 The captain’s eyes sparkled brightly, a familiar cockiness erupting within. “Are you kidding? I make everything look good! Even the Vet’s fashion choices would look fabulous on me!”

  Ravio sniggered. He’d heard and seen plenty of the goods from Hytopia, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr. Hero even knew what fashion was. But then again, he was just a simple Lolian; for all he knew, things like bomb outfits and heart shaped collars were absolutely acceptable and normal in this world.

 “But where is your scarf, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?” He asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side as the man looked at him oddly.  

 “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You can call me Warriors like everyone else you know.”

 “I know, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, I don’t mind.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir blinked. “O-kay.” Shaking his head, he answered. “Legend has it. Since I can’t use my dominant hand, he said he’d stitch it up for me.” The captain hero nodded towards the corner of the room, and Ravio followed his line of sight.

 Mr. Hero was perched in that Lolia-awful rocking chair that had been in the house since Nayru knows when. It was a horrid thing in his opinion, old, out of style and absolutely stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d shoved it into the furthest corner of the room ages ago. Mr. Hero loved it though, although he never said why, and he didn’t seem to mind that it was now nearly next to the fireplace all the time, even if he did have to pull it out of the corner to properly rock in it.

 Mr. Hero sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other one hanging down to gently push at the floor, making the big chair rock steadily. Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s scarf lay in his lap and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a needle in his hand as he dutifully labored over the brilliant blue fabric of the famed scarf.

 “His eyesight is terrible.” Ravio snickered to the Captain.

 “But his hearing is perfect.” Mr. Hero’s voice rang clearly across the room, violet gaze darting up to look at them disapprovingly over the top of his spectacles.

 The minute he looked away, merchant and captain shared a grin, only to burst into muffled laughter.

...

 Mr. Smithy and Tune are cold.

 It’s obvious from the way the two huddle in place at the kitchen table as everyone enjoys the meal that Ravio and Mr. Hero have pulled together (Mr. Hero is hesitant to let even the finest of chefs in his kitchen for some reason, despite having stated that Mr. Champion Hero is a very good cook and better than him (at cooking, life, or heroing, he does not specify)). Tune- Wind has all but attached himself to Sky’s side, using the bigger hero as a heat source as he slurps down his warm stew, and Mr. Smithy has bundled himself against the Mr. Rancher.

 It’s only autumn, but both of the smaller heroes act like it’s the start of winter with the way they shiver and rub at their arms.

 Mr. Hero’s only response when he asks is to sigh, but when he presses, his pink haired doppelganger eventually explains. “Their Hyrules were never corrupted, so they’re used to warmer weather most of the time, if not always. The mist from the ocean is the worst Wind knows, and heaven only knows if Four could survive a proper freeze.” Mr. Hero shakes his head, wiping the last of the broth from their meal off a plate with his dish-rag. “If they need something, they know to ask.”

 But Mr. Hero isn’t really that cold hearted, he’s worrying too if the way his brows furrow and the lines around his mouth deepen is any indication. “I offered blankets, but they don’t want them.”

 “Does this happen often?” He muses as he takes the plates from Mr. Hero to dry and put away, and to his displeasure, his housemate nods.

 “When we come here or to Sky’s Hyrule, yeah. Usually, Wars will bundle them up in his scarf, or Sky with his sailcloth, even Twilight shares his fur, but...” Mr. Hero’s ears twitch irritably (truly adorable how they do that, although he’ll never say as much). “Sky’s asleep with his cape, the wolf pelt is a bloody mess after that battle, and I haven’t finished mending Wars’ scarf.” The ears flap again. “That thing is so dang complex and Warriors apparently hasn’t the faintest about the proper cloth to use to mend it. He used new material to mend a hole! Brand new material, Ravio! It’s an awful state and I swear if Styla could see it she’d faint dead away!” The vet huffed as he plunged another dish under the sudsy water of the wash tub. “Using new cloth on a worn scarf, it’s like he wants the thing to be ruined...”

 Ah yes, Mr. Hero’s rants. There’d be no righting this one until he’d fixed the problem, and considering he’d only been torn away from the scarf that lay peacefully sitting on his rocker in order to make food, it was quite likely that once his kitchen was clean again, he’d be right back to working on it.

 Ravio smiled, Mr. Captain Hero Sir would be quite pleased.

 His gaze traveled over to where the hero in question was sitting. The captain and Tu- Wind, were talking on the couch, the younger staring nearly longingly at the rocker and the scarf on top of it.

 Kid really liked that scarf, huh? If Ravio remembered right, half the time during his adventure with Mr. Captain Hero Sir, he’d constantly seen either Mask or Tune hanging onto it.

 Somewhere inside of a bunny head, an idea sparked and green eyes brightened excitedly.

 He’d donned a new scarf just before dinner, but it wouldn’t do quite right, so instead, he darted off to his room, much to the displeasure of his dish partner as his rag flew into Mr. Hero’s face and left his housemate spluttering indignantly.  

 “Ravio! You didn’t finish-”

 “One sec!”

 Mr. Hero’s grumbles followed him out of the kitchen, but faded as he darted into his room and towards his wardrobe. It was the work of moments to select two of his largest scarfs, and less time than that to dart back out to the living room and wrap one around each of the smaller heroes.

 “There! Snug as a kit in a quilt!”  

 Two small heroes stared down at the black and purple fabric that now draped around their shoulders, smiles brightening their flushed faces as Tune buried his face happily in the fabric with a bright hum.

 “Thanks, Ravio!”

 “Thank you.” Four’s eyes glimmered warm brown as he sunk into his seat, only the top of his face and his hands visible beneath the striped fabric.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s eyes sparkled as the man looked up at him, and Ravio fought the blush that rose in his cheeks as he fiddled with his own scarf (he’d mess with his sleeves, but he’d shed his robe to help do the dishes, and his undershirt wasn’t nearly long enough to fiddle with). “Don’t mention it, it’s-” He chewed his lip for a moment before a smile broke loose, the one Mr. Hero said was cheesy and fake, the one for when he was trying to sell things. “It’s a complimentary gift for exceptional customers and/or guests!”

 “We’ve never bought anything from you.” Four deadpanned, eyes glinting with a smile Ravio couldn’t see past all the scarf in the way.

 “Yet!” Ravio chirped back, and darted back into the kitchen to help Mr. Hero finish doing the dishes.

...

 Mr. Champion keeps rubbing his scars.

 The heroes had left for a short spell, traveling off to fight more monsters only to be dumped in the orchard a week or so later (Mr. Hero said it’d been a month and a half for them, but by his time it was a week). And when Ravio said they’d been dumped in the orchard, he meant in the orchard. He’d been busy picking some of the ripened apples before the birds took them all (most of the wild birds knew better, but still, it was the principle of the thing, fresh fruit was rare in Lorule) when a shout and the snapping of branches had sounded all about him.  

 Ravio had shrieked in surprise, thinking that he was alone only to find (once he’d removed his hood again) that there were nine heroes hanging from various tree branches around him, and Mr. Hero himself was hanging upside down, one foot caught in the branches, as his face dangled inches from Ravio’s own, a scowl darkening it as a string of mumbles escaped his room-mate.

 He couldn’t stop himself, he kissed Mr. Hero’s twitching nose.

 Mr. Hero shrieked in surprise, jerking in place and effectively loosening himself from the tree, falling all over Ravio in the process. It was worth it, Ravio giggled as he lay on the ground. Mr. Hero was so like the bunnies in Lorule and their noses simply demanded to be kissed.

 Laughter and grumbles sounded around them, the heroes pulling themselves down from the trees around them.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. moved with surprising ease, despite his heavy armor, clambering down the tree with the same grace that Mr. Champion did most of the time. Some things never change, he could still see him climbing up onto Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s shoulders in the same manner (only now he rather doubted either of them would attempt to do that anymore, Captain Hero Sir Jr. was much bigger now).

 It felt entirely too natural to lead them all up to the house, Mr. Hero trailing at the back with a bushel of apples in his arms. Settling them all down in the kitchen was easy as could be, and he and Mr. Hero worked quickly to set some fresh apple cider to boil before starting on a meal for everyone.

 He missed not having them all around, it was going to be awful dull when they all had to go back to their worlds when this adventure was over again.

 He was determined to enjoy the moment for that very reason while they all sat about in the living room, sipping apple cider as Mr. Hero had settled down in his blasted rocker, spectacles on his nose and more mending in hand. He never would rest until the light was faded, and Ravio had half a mind to take out his knitting (he was still currently short three scarves) before he decided to simply flop down on the nearest open spot on the couch and just enjoy his cider.

 Except, Mr. Champion was sitting in the seat beside him.

 The young hero kept rubbing at his scars, eyes distant, and despite the numerous amounts of times that either Mr. Captain Hero Sir or Mr. Rancher tried to move his hands back down to the still full mug he was cradling in his other hand, Mr. Champion (he was younger than Ravio though...would Mr. Be an appropriate title for him?) kept reaching right back up to rub his neck and face.

 The scars were enflamed, harsh red and puffy where they peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and it made Ravio wince to even think of how he’d acquired such injuries that would scar so.

 He only winced more with every drag of broken nails and rough finger pads over the skin, but Mr. Champion- Wild? He could think of him as Wild right? He was kind of the kid’s uncle in a weird way- didn't seem to even notice that he was doing it. Cornflower blue eyes stared unseeing into the fire, face still and only his hands moving.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, worry pulling his lovely face into shadows as he grasped Wild’s hands again. “Wild, hey, no more of that, okay? You’re hurting yourself.”

 Fingers twitched, but no other movement came from the young Champion until Mr. Captain Hero Sir (wait, was Wild also Captain Hero Sir Jr.? Or was he Champion Hero? Oh fiddlesticks, he wasn’t sure anymore) let go, and then broken nails moved right back up towards swollen flesh.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

 Mr. Hero had spaced out before, did it a lot when the sun set or when he was outside, but he never scratched like that. He sang and fiddled with his rings. If Wild Champion Jr. Sir (oh heavens) did something like that, it would be fine, but this was... this was rather unsettling.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, curling around his mug as Mr. Captain Hero Sir had to reach out to stop the wild-child's hands from reaching the inflamed wounds (the last scratch had broken skin, and a thin trail of red has appeared).

 It was without a thought that he acted, pushing his mug into the captain’s hands and promptly looping his scarf around Wild Champion Hero Captain Jr.’s (oh Lolia help) neck.

 Thoughtless fingers nose just as before, but this time, they brushed against soft fabric. Ravio tensed, dearly hoping that his scarf would not be ripped off or simply pushed aside.

To the surprise of all of them, rough fingers brushed over the fabric, paused, and gently stroked its material. The Champion’s face did not move, but slowly, long fingers ran down the fabric, rubbing it between their tips as cornflower blue eyes blinked slowly. In an instant, the young hero’s gaze was lost to sight as the fabric was nuzzled with all the fondness of a cub nuzzling their parent.

 “He likes scarves, of course he does.” Mr. Rancher chuckled wearily, a tired smile playing over his features as both he and Mr. Captain Hero Sir sat back (but not before Ravio took his mug back).

 “So he does.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, eyes fond as he watched the hero in question curl up on the couch, face lost in purple fabric and bare toes the only moving part of the kid. The wiggling toes were almost like a dog wagging its tail, but weirder, still, he wasn’t one to judge.

 Mr. Captain hero Sir caught his eye. “Thank you, Ravio.”

 “Customer loyalty.” He murmured softly into his mug.

 He caught the way Mr. Hero and the others stared at him though, and he could only be thankful his hood shaded his face enough to hide his pleased blush.

...

 Mr. Rancher needs to wear more color.

 It’s like looking at the photos of Mr. Hero from just before he’d come around. Mr. Hero always fussed at him for going through things, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how odd his room-mate looked with black hair and dark clothes. “You dyed it?”

 “For safety reasons. How many people have you see in Hyrule with pink hair of all things? It was a dead giveaway!”

 “But you’re the hero?”

 “A hero whose face was plastered on every wanted poster in Hyrule. Still is in some cases.” Mr. Hero had grumbled, folding the last piece of newly clean washing and throwing a pointed glare in his direction. “Life on the run sucks. I was thirteen and just wanted to be ignored.”

 A glance at the dark haired but smiling youngster in the photo and back up to the bitter pink haired hero he knew told him (even if Mr. Hero hadn’t already) how well that wish had been fulfilled.

 But seriously, those photos at least showed Mr. Hero with some color. The most Mr. Rancher wore was that horrid sash and obi, and the orange and blue looked simply terrible with his color scheme, something that, when brought up to Mr. Hero, his friend seemed to agree with, stating that ‘he’d never get into Hytopia’s capitol looking like that’.

 Ravio had never been to Hytopia, but based on the stories and mannerisms Mr. Hero took on after that adventure, he can only agree.

 Originally, he’d hoped he could simply find something among his wares that he could sell to Mr. Rancher, but that proved to only be so effective, after all, when one sells weapons and items, it’s hard finding a normal piece of clothing amidst all the blessed or charmed pieces.

 Oh well, he was counting on ending up sharing the rest of his scarves with them all anyway.

 It wasn’t any dramatic or particularly touching moment when he walked up and slung a clean scarf around the rancher’s shoulders, but Mr. Rancher, after initially starting, smiled as he touched the sun-warmed material. Of course, that expression quickly faded into one of awe as the hero squeezed the fabric lightly.

 Mr. Rancher’s eyes lit up like a dog being given a new toy (Ravio wasn’t stupid, he knew a dog when he saw one) and the man proceeded to continue squeezing and petting the springy fabric with eyes sparkling as if Ravio had just handed him the stars themselves.

 He was down to two scarves now, but it was worth it.

...

Mr. Traveler Hero is small.

He is small, and wild, and the clothes he’s wearing are nearly too small. The traveler is a growing child (never mind that he’s still a teenager himself) and he’s out and about in nearly threadbare garments that leave Ravio shivering at the mere thought of wearing.

And this is the other hero who grew up in a corrupted world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it should and the winters are always too long.

Ravio doesn’t think twice when he sees the first signs of cold in the young hero. He’s got two scarfs recently made, and he’s only too happy to share.

Purple and black stripes nearly drown the young hero when he walks over and wraps not one, but two of the comfiest scarves he’s ever made around the youngster's neck.

Like Mr. Rancher, nothing is said or done immediately, but Mr. Traveler Hero smile at him shyly, holding up a hand and scampering over to his bag.

The pair of polished stones he’s given don’t make much sense, but he catches sight of Mr. Hero and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Both smiling over at the two through the doorways.  

“Thank you.” He murmurs warmly, tucking the rocks in his pocket.

“Thank you.!” Mr. Traveler smiles in return, eyes twinkling in the shade of the room and scarf tails flapping like the four wings of a fairy as he spins around to show them to Mr. Hero.

...

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. has nothing comfy to wear.

 Once more, the heroes had been whisked away, and once more they’d appeared at the house weeks later, looking exhausted and utterly soaked.

 The chill autumn rain might be to blame for that.

 Mr. Hero hadn’t even protested that... Wild (he’d just call him Wild, he couldn’t do this title thing this time) had bustled off into the kitchen to warm some tea, and instead promptly collapsing in all his soaked glory onto the couch.

 The other heroes followed suit, and Ravio (like a good host) immediately hopped up and fetched some blankets. Mr. Rancher was already stoking the fire, and with a bit of work, Ravio was able to help Mr. Her grasp what was left of his own steaming mug of cider (his hands were quite the state in this bitter weather) before popping off to the kitchen to brew more of the sweet apply goodness to share with the heroes.

 Armor and over-clothes had been stripped off, sitting wet and dripping in one corner (Mr. Hero eyes it with distaste, knowing just as Ravio did just what that would be doing to the floor) but neither housekeeper said anything, Mr. Hero nursing his cider and letting its warmth sooth his gnarled fingers, and Ravio puttering about with a kettle and mugs to share with everyone else.

 Blankets had been pulled from the shelves and were cast around quaking shoulders as chattering teeth uttered breathy thanks to the purple-robed merchant.

 There was nothing like being thanked for good service, and Ravio beamed as he passed between them.

 That smile faded however when he noticed Captain Hero Sir Jr.

 The man sat in a thin linen shirt and under-armor, looking far from being near the level of comfort that the rest did in their undershirts and pants (or a dress in Mr. Hero’s case).

 Come to think of it he’d never seen Captain Hero Sir Jr. dress in any comfortable manner since he’d come along behind Mr. Hero that first time since they’d started this adventure. Did the poor kid- er... Man, not have anything comfortable to wear?

 While the heroes slept that night, in the two bedrooms and sprawled across the couch, Ravio kept Mr. Hero comfortable, sitting before the fire with his knitting needles while Mr. Hero repaired yet more damaged clothing (poor mister Chosen Hero’s sailcloth had been damaged somehow).

 Usually, one or the other of them would eventually remind the other to go to bed, but both were so wrapped up in their work (Mr. Hero started singing even, that goddess ballad Miss. Princess told hm about) that neither seemed to remember to check the clock, or even to go to bed.

 Come morning, Ravio finds that he has fallen asleep wrapped in the tails of the scarf he’d been making, and Mr. Hero has become entangled in his mending, a peaceful smile on his face, worn fabric brushing his cheeks and spectacles teetering precariously on the tip of his nose.

 Mr. Chosen Hero is the one who wakes them up, stirring awake with a violent sneeze, but he smiles fondly when he lays eyes on them, opening his arms in an offer of a cuddle if either feels inclined to return to sleep. Neither does, but Ravio appreciates it, and even if Mr. Hero doesn’t say as much (quite the opposite really) he knows his friend does too.

 The day is normal, as far as a day with nine heroes in the house can be, and with the rain still pouring, they spend their time cleaning, although Mr. Hero shoos them all away after a time because they’re not doing it the right way (AKA Mr. Hero's very practiced manner of cleaning and organizing). It’s after Mr. Hero had shooed them all into the main room while he organizes the basement (thank goodness, it's an awful mess down there) that the talk starts.

 It’s cold out, and most of the heroes have donned the scarves they’ve been gifted over time (Ravio isn’t blushing, he’s not). Smiles shine and laughter rings as they explain to their brothers how they’d some to have them.

 “And he just... threw t at me! Not a word, not an explanation, just came up and tossed it over my shoulders.” Mr. Rancher chuckles. “Kinda like how my ma would do when I was a tot, jist wrap it up and ‘round soon as the cold weather came a’creepin’ up.”

 The others nod, smiles fond. Ravio beams as he lights the candle set near the masks on the wall.

 “I had one too once,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Muses aloud. “Back in the war, you remember, Wars?”

 “Do I ever.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir smirks. “I used to tie you up with that thing when you got too rowdy.”

 “You and the general both.” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Chuckles, soft and deep and so different from his nearly witch level cackle that Ravio remembers.

 “What ever happened to it?” He asks curiously, blowing out his match and turning to move towards the rest of the group.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. Smiles at him, eyes far older but far more at peace than they used to be. “I outgrew it. It was a child’s scarf, even if it was a bit big at the time. I considered bringing it, but it just doesn’t do much anymore.” A thin smile pulls at his features, almost guilty as he admits “I didn’t take the best care of my clothes as a kid.”

 Well, that doesn’t matter over much. Ravio smiles at his young (old) friend, and around him he can hear the others whisper and laugh. They know what’s happening, and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Does too if the twinkle in his eyes is to be believed, so Ravio makes a point of flourishing his gift with all the fuss he can before reverently draping the garment around the tall man’s neck. The eldest hero has to stoop, even from where he’s sitting on the couch, so that Ravio can reach, but it only adds to the mock reverence as Ravio adorns another bare neck with one of his toasty scarves.

 “Mind you take care of that one,” He scolds lightly. “I was up all night making it.”

 “Yes sir.” Captain hero Sir Jr. responds with a playful smile in his eyes, even if his face is the picture of obedience.

 Giggles sound around them, and despite hating it, Ravio takes the only seat left available (he really hates that rocker) and curls up. “You all be quiet now, I’m tired and need a nap.”

 “Okay, gramps.” The sailor whispers faintly, a giggle in his tone as titters and chuckles erupt.

 Strangely, it doesn't take too long for Ravio to doze off, especially when Mr. Hero settles in beside him and starts to rock the stupid chair, humming lightly as fingers work over another project, the light buzz of activity all around them as Ravio allows himself to be carried into dreamland.

...

 Mr. Chosen Hero has caught cold.

 He’s not surprised, not with how drenched the others all were day before last, but the Skyloftian is shivering madly, miserably sniffing into handkerchiefs and trying his best to avoid drinking the nasty herbal teas that Mr. Hero claims are good for people. Ravio doesn’t care if Mr. Hero drinks them, but for pities sake, drink black tea if you’re going to drink tea! What sort of decent being are you if you’re just drinking plant water?

 “Legend, I’m serious, I don’t-” Mr. Chosen Hero breaks off coughing. “I don’t think tea will-” Another cough, nastier than the last. “I don’t think it will help.”

 “Trust me.” Mr. Hero already has a small table pulled up to Mr. Chosen Hero’s side, tea and handkerchiefs both set carefully on top. “Tea’s just what you need. Eucalyptus does wonders for a cold.”

 “He’s right.” Mr. Traveler Hero chimes in, gaze warm and sleepy as he sips some of the tea himself. “And it’s got a calming effect.”

 Mr. Hero cocks a brow. “What are you, ‘Rule, a koala?”

 No one knows what that is, except Mr. Traveler Hero, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, as Mr. Chosen Hero breaks into another coughing fit and bundles a blanket closer around his shoulders, voice hoarse when he speaks. “I wish it’d stop raining. I didn’t even realize-” A cough sounds and is followed by a sniffle. “I didn’t realize the surface got so wet.”

 And Ravio sees where this is going, the shivering hero, the gentle atmosphere. He doesn’t bother waiting for Mr. Chosen Hero to sniffle again, he just wraps a scarf around the man’s neck, tucking it in close enough to keep the heat in.

 The smile exchanged is silent, and Ravio is thankful that the others aren’t about at present to tease, only Mr. Hero and Mr. Traveler Hero are here with them, and neither says a word as they sip their leaf water.

 “I’ll make you some real tea.” He murmurs softly, offering a wink and a gentle pat to the knee before he’s off towards the kitchen.

...

 Mr. Hero doesn’t have a scarf.

 It was glaringly obvious, as whenever the rest of them appeared at the house, they'd all be wearing their Ravio gifted scarfs proudly, smiles on their faces as the ends trailed or dragged after them (despite that, they were all in perfect condition).

 But Mr. Hero didn’t have a scarf.

 He was never going to get one either.

 They’ve all just returned to the house (it’s been two months since the last visit) and the snow outside it up to Ravio’s waist in places. It took him ages to shovel himself out of the house, but the harvest of apples is in and the bees are well prepared for the winter, and Mr. Hero finally tidied the cellar enough that they have room for food storage aplenty.

 Cider and tea are brewed as the heroes gather, fluffy socks and scarves on full display as they sit around the fire.

 Mr. Hero is shivering.

 Curious glances are thrown at both himself and Mr. Hero as the heroes drink their beverage of choice, concern in their gazes as Legend eventually gets up to pull the most ridiculously bulky quilt in the entire house over his shoulders. He’s all pink in the face and he’s shaking like a leaf, and it’s only because he won’t hold still that Ravio hasn’t attempted to try and help him hold a warm mug enough for his fingers to relax.

 Mr. Hero moves like a man thrice his age, if not more, and he creaks worse than the roof does in the wind outside.

 “Where’s your scarf, vet?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs softly, one brow raised as he watches Mr. Hero fumble with the quilts edge.

 “My what?”

 Glances are exchanged among the others. “Your scarf? The one Ravio gave you?”

 “I don’t have a scarf.” Mr. Hero answers, dropping the quilt again with a scowl that makes his nose wiggle.

 “But” Cornflower blue dart between himself and his housemate. “Aren’t you two friends? How do you not already have a scarf? Even Time did!”

 “It’s a customer service thing.” Mr. Hero murmurs. “I’m already a loyal customer, so he doesn’t waste resources on trying to earn my loyalty. That, and I don’t wear purple.”

 He shakes his head, loosening his scarf as the eyes of the others twinkle, but rather than taking it off, he only loosens one end, before wrapping it tightly around his friend’s neck, fluffing up the quilt in both of their laps, and settling a warm mug of cider in Mr. Hero’s hands.

 “Nonsense!” he chirps, trying not to be hurt at the obvious surprise on his friend's face, so he muses Mr. Hero’s hair instead. “You have every item I offer except this scarf. Why would you keep buying from me if you get it? I have to keep you from having one until I get something better in, otherwise business will plummet!”

 Knowing smiles are exchanged amidst the others, but Mr. Hero just sighs and shakes his head, leaning slightly into Ravio’s side as he sips his cider.

 A bitter expression overtakes Mr. Hero’s face. “You forgot the cloves.”

 “Oh shoot!”

[realcube]

msby boys finding out their s/o is pregnant

navi | masterlist | taglist  

thank you to anon for this wholesome request 

content warning ♡ pregnant! reader, sexual references, swearing & fluff

characters ♡ sakusa, atsumu, bokuto & hinata

kiyoomi sakusa 

♡ he faltered

♡ there was half a minute of silence between the two of you; him just staring at your stomach while you gazed into his eyes

♡ he was almost certain that he misheard you, so he felt inclined to inquire, ‘huh?’ as indifferently as he could, though he wasn’t doing a good job of concealing the shocked expression on his face 

♡ ‘i said i’m pregnant, sweetie.’ you giggled, admiring the emotions he displayed on his face as it wasn’t a sight you got to see often

♡ sakusa continued to stare at you, eyes wide 

♡ though he knew what you meant, apart of him insisted that he was mishearing you 

♡ his wide-eyes were fixated on you, his lips slightly agape as he tried to process what you just said and what this meant for the both of you 

♡ the only emotion you could read of his face was shock. at first, you were sure that he was happy but he was just taking a while to accept it, but now that a few minutes had passed and he was still yet to say anything or even smile, you were starting to second guess yourself

♡ despite the fact sakusa had already agreed that he was on board with the idea of having a child many times before - in fact, there were nights where he’d admit that he can’t wait to start a family with you - but you still worried that perhaps he has now that had a change of heart

♡ that was until you noticed his eyes become unusually glossy and red, along with his cheeks adapting a somewhat red tint, ‘if this is a joke, (y/n), it’s not funny.’ his ordinary, monotone voice was now slightly shaky and low 

♡ ‘it’s not a joke, ‘iyoomi.’ you laughed, feeling your own throat go dry and your cheek flare up upon seeing how emotional sakusa had become

♡ before the tears spilled from your eyes, you felt sakusa’s arms slowly snake around your waist, place an elongated kiss on your forehead then rest his chin on your shoulder 

♡ he held you close enough that you could feel his rapid heartbeat thud against your chest and his wobbly breath tickle the back of your neck

♡ he stayed like that, silent, for a good few minutes 

♡ when he finally pulled away to admire your stomach, you noticed how his damp cheeks glistened in the light and you couldn’t help but smile

♡ although he wasn’t very vocal about how happy he was, his actions spoke a thousand words

♡ he’d insist in home-cooking all your food now because he didn’t want to risk you getting food poisoning 

♡ when he’d come home from practise, absolutely exhausted, the first thing he’d do when he gets home is  wash his hands then cut you some fruit 

♡ when he has free-time, he used to just watch TV but now he’s picked up a few hobbies of reading childcare books, tending to your every need/want and researching good baby names

♡ also, he’s so gentle with you - like, he was gentle with you before but this is a new extreme

♡ excluding the time he almost tackled you to the ground when you suggested atsumu as a baby name

♡ like he baby-proofs the house like a month into your pregnancy lmao 

kōtarō bokuto

♡ the corners of his lips slowly curl into a bright smile, ‘pregnant?’

♡ you cocked your head to the side slightly, then hummed, ‘yeah. pregnant.’

♡ ‘like..with a kid?’

♡ you snorted, playfully rolling your eyes, ‘i’d hope so.’

♡ ‘like..with my kid?’

♡ ‘our kid - but yes.’

♡ a while passed and he had yet to do anything besides stare at you in pure adoration so you prompted him by opening your arms 

♡ to which he immediately responded by throwing himself onto you, ‘I’m gonna be a dad?! like seriously?!’

♡ luckily you were sitting on your bed so you fell back onto that but you were still being smothered by his chest 

♡ ‘bo!’ you squealed and squirmed under his weight and tight grip, glad that he was as cheery as you had hoped but not appreciating being suffocated 

♡ he suddenly pulled away but kept his large hands glued to your shoulders, revealing the tears that were already streaming down his cheeks and dampened your shirt, ‘really?!’

♡ ‘yes, bokuto. i am 100% pregnant.’ you declared for the final time before bokuto cupped your face with his hands and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, not stopping until your lips were basically swollen

♡ he’s just so hyped during the first few days of your pregnancy and he’s just super duper ready to become a dad!

♡ like he’s already practising his dad jokes 

♡ but then you remind him that he’s gonna have to wait around 9 months before he can actually see his baby and his hair literally deflates 

♡ ugh how rude of you 

♡ can you not like...make it grow faster?? please??

♡ once you explain to him that’s not how babies work, he kinda accepts it and just focuses his attention on you

♡ he kinda does some research on babies/pregnancy but not prior, he just does a quick google search when he needs to 

♡ but the intention is definitely there bc he googles the most trivial of things like ‘what to make pregnegant ppl for breakfast?’

♡ ‘what do pragnant ppl need from the supermarket?’

♡ ‘can my pregenunt wife have peanut butter?’

♡ ‘how to spell preaignant’ 

atsumu miya 

♡ DEEP denial

♡ he thinks you are playing a prank on him bc you don’t ‘look pregnant’

♡ even when you show him your positive pregnancy test he’s like ‘and how much did that cost?’

♡ he deadass acts as if he wasn’t the one who’s been trying to get you pregnant and raving on about how much he wants a family with you for the last few months 

♡ but he just doesn’t want to believe you bc he know he’ll get way too happy for his own good and he’s afraid to be let down

♡ plus, it was one of those ‘a blessing of this magnitude couldn’t have happened to me - of all people - so this is probably either a cruel joke or a hallucination.’ moments 

♡ he’s just so far gone that after your eleventh attempt at trying to convince him that you’re pregnant for real, you just give up

♡ so y’all just go around your business somewhat normally - except atsumu was more skittery - until your baby bump started to become more prominent

♡ one day, he came back from practise, noticed your bump and pulled you into the most passionate, heartfelt kiss before placing a gentle kiss upon your stomach, a buoyant grin gracing his features

♡ though he doesn’t say much since he is at a loss for words, he mutters a few sweet nothings into your ear as he carries you to the bedroom

♡ for a joke, he pretends to be gutted if you’re libido production decrease but really, he couldn’t care less

♡ but if it increases tho- 

♡ expect him to take full advantage of that 

♡ also, if he didn’t already treat you like his goddess, he does now 

♡ work has moved down his list of priorities and you + his baby are now at number one 

♡ usually he keeps his phone on silent/stuffs it into his bag while he is practising but now he insists on keeping it on full volume, out on the bench, just in case you call him for an emergency 

♡ same goes for texts; he will literally stop mid-set to rush over to his phone if he hears it vibrate 

♡ bokuto thinks it’s sweet but the rest of them get pretty annoyed of his antics quite quickly but whenever they try to call him out on it, he’s like ‘is your wife 6 months pregnant? no! i didn’t think so. i should be on paternity leave right now so be glad i’m blessing you with my presence.’

shōyō hinata

♡ he cannot stop thanking you

♡ as if you’re doing him a favour, which - depending on how you view it - you are

♡ he’s literally on his knees with his hands clasped together, tears of joy streaming down his face as he looks up at you in pure adoration, ‘thank you, (y/n)!’

♡ you tilted your head to the side and stared at him with a perplexed expression, ‘you’re welcome?’

♡ it’s a while before he moves from that position but when he does, it’s only so he can press his ear against your stomach to see if he can hear the baby 

♡ ‘shō, i don’t think it’s body has even formed ye--’

♡ ‘shh! it’s speaking to me.’ he chuckled then proceeded to squeeze his eyes shut, intensely listening to whatever the baby had to say 

♡ you quirked a brow, waiting for him to finish and once he did, he sprung to his feet and threw his arms over your shoulders to pull you in for a hug - in which he had to stop himself from squeezing you too tightly in fear of hurting you, as if pregnancy meant that your bones were now made of glass

♡ he’s just so happy that you agreed to bear his children 🙏

♡ also, seeing how excited you were to tell him about your pregnancy really prompted him to step up his husband-game 

♡ from now on, he loads the dishwasher, does both of your laundry, cleans the house on his own and cooks most of the food 

♡ he acts as if being pregnant means you are no longer able to do basic tasks but his real motive behind doing these things was not only to take the pressure off of you but to also prepare himself for father life 👍

♡ also, to prepare him for shopping for his kids’ clothes, he goes out and buys you maternity wear 

♡ he does this like...3 weeks into your pregnancy though so the clothes just sit and catch dust until a few months later when you actually need them 

♡ and although he is a bit of a pain to go stroller/pram shopping with (he just says buy whichever one goes the fastest), you let him take the reins when it came to buying/preparing the baby’s room and it came out beautiful!

♡ like the cradle was good quality and firm, the rug wouldn’t irritate the baby’s skin, the walls were painted expertly and the plushies/toys he picked out - unbeknownst to you at the time - kept the baby entertained for ages

♡ oh and no matter what day/week/month you are in of pregnancy, he will always look at you and your bump with the same amazement and gratitude as he did the first time you told him

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 6

If sharing a glass of wine with Harry the other night didn’t make you wish things could go back to normal--whatever that was--seeing him with CeCe before bed did.

She stomped her feet in the bathroom when you brushed through her hair. “I’m not tired! I want to stay up later with Maeve!”

Maybe that was another parenting fail in the last year--giving Maeve a later bedtime. She had bargained with you long and hard. She wanted more time on her phone but you wouldn’t budge. When you had heard enough of the I’m practically a teenager, mom! you figured there probably wasn’t an easy way to tell her that in two years she’d look back at herself and laugh.

So you caved, which you were doing more of lately but only with the silly stuff: bedtime, playing outside, dessert before dinner on occasion and even a PG-13 movie at a friend’s house when Maeve really got snippy with you.

But your energy was draining. After all the shit you’d put up with, you figured that hearing a few swears or seeing a high school party wouldn’t kill your 11-year-old.

CeCe, on the other hand, might be the death of you.

She was more outspoken than her sister, if that was possible. She had lungs on her that carried her voice through the house, especially when she whined.

“I want to stay up late!”

“You can’t,” you told her firmly. “I’m sorry. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you wake up refreshed.”

She made a face at you in the bathroom mirror, she probably didn’t understand what you meant but you smiled back at her anyway.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

You didn’t reply, instead let out a sigh and ignored the way she pouted until she stomped her feet again. “I want to watch TV!”

She smacked a fist on the counter when you didn’t reply, your eyes went wide with shock. “Cecelia Rose,” you scolded. “You do not yell at mommy like that or bang your fist on the counter.”

Maeve was nowhere to be found, likely scrolling in a group chat with other pre-teens who sent too many emojis. You almost wished she’d pop her head in to intervene--sometimes she was good at talking CeCe off the ledge, even if just to distract her.

The next best thing, though, when Harry knocked on the door and peered through the crack. “Everything alright?”

“Just dandy,” you forced a smile.

“Mommy is making me sleep,” CeCe frowned up at him.

“She is?”

“She is,” she nodded. “And I’m not tired.”

“Well, mommy has good reasoning, you’ll be sleepy tomorrow if you don’t sleep now.”

She didn’t seem to care, she crossed her arms over her chest once you finished the braid at the base of her neck and clapped her on the shoulder. “I won’t be tired.”

“Do you want to read together?”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, almost like she was waiting for the catch. When he smiled again, she let out a hefty sigh but headed for the door. “Fine.”

Harry smiled over his shoulder at you and followed behind her, trailing her down the hall until she took the left turn into her bedroom with a butterfly carpet. She walked over the bookshelf, picked out The Big Book of Bedtime Stories, and pulled the sheets back.

You were in the doorway, watching as she fluffed her own pillow and then looked up at Harry. “Are you coming?”

She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for him to get close enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder. He hesitated, stole a glance in your direction and then did as she said. He adjusted the pillow behind his head and CeCe wriggled beside him until she was comfortable. When she was, she nestled right into him, looked up at you and then said: “are you coming?”

You paused, parted your lips to let her down gently, but then something in you tugged your torso towards his. He was surprised by this, too, shifted in the tiny bed to make room for you to crawl over and squish yourself between CeCe and the wall.

Harry, with a smirk on his lips, looked over at you when he opened the book to CeCe’s favorite story. “Comfortable?”

“Go ahead,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the silliness of the moment but somehow wishing it was routine.

You put a hand on her pajama pants, petting her mindlessly as you listened to Harry’s voice when he thumbed through the pages. You’d had moments like these with Luke, when Maeve was tiny and CeCe was barely a thought. It’d been a while since you laid in bed with another adult, your child between you as she let out sleepy sighs and fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek.

The lights were dim now, you watched as his fingers pulled each page and tried to forget the way they pulled moans from your mouth.

He stopped halfway through, looked over at you and smirked when her breathing got heavier, but he kept going. He’d learned: if you stop too soon, she’d bolt awake and tell you she’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

He carried on like that for a while, glancing over to see if her eyes were open, sometimes catching your gaze but looking away quickly. Timid, like he was just as unsure as you were.

He finished a story and started a new one, and for a moment you wondered if he kept reading just to not disturb the scene: the two of you with your daughter sandwiched between. If someone looked in on it from the outside, they’d think you were a family.

Eventually he cut himself off mid sentence, derailed the story of the princess and the pea to ask you: “should I keep going?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “She’s out. We’re fine.”

He shut the book and pulled away from her gently. You lifted her head a little and tugged your arm out from the sheets and he placed the book on the desk to the right of her bed. He stuck his hand out to help you climb over her quietly. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at the two of you.

“Love you mommy,” she said, you bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Love you, Harry,” she said through a sigh, eyes already closing when you turned around to leave. His eyes locked on yours, caught off guard and unsure of how to reply, but he looked down at her, lips in a small smile.

“Love you too, CeCe.”

And just like that, your life turned to a personally targeted and especially cruel single-mom hell. It was already there, practically. He played outside with your kids? He drove Maeve to play dates and picked CeCe up from ballet? He cooked dinner and poured you wine and tucked deep inside your memory were images of his head between your legs and his fingers laced with yours.

And now he said he loved one of them? You made a beeline for your bedroom, shut the door and didn’t say goodnight because you knew it would only get worse from here.

You were right. It was torture. Daydream, fairytale level torture when he helped Maeve with her homework the next night and even more painful when CeCe fell asleep with her head in his lap after a movie.

Maybe the worst part, though, was when you sat beside him on the patio a few nights later. The sun had set and you had a glass of crisp rosé in your hand when he turned to you.

“Look what CeCe brought home the other day,” he moved his phone to show you the screen. A drawing of stick figures, red and green and blue under a yellow house. He pinched the screen to zoom in, the actual artwork was nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” You tilted your head to the side and let out a quiet laugh. Her drawing needed work, but the color choices were bright and vibrant, just like her.

“Well, it’s us I think.”

“Us?” You looked up at him for a moment, CeCe hit the tennis ball into the pool and Maeve let out a frustrated groan.

“That’s her, with the tutu obviously. That’s Maeve and you right there--I’m assuming, by the way. This is all interpretation.”

You let out a laugh but watched when he zoomed in on the other stick figure.

“And that’s me, I think,” he tilted his head sideways now, looked at it closer. "With the guitar." You reached out your hand, brought his phone closer when he let you have it.

“When did she give this to you?”

“Monday--no, Tuesday, I think.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged when you looked up. Maeve had gotten the leaf skimmer and CeCe clapped when the tennis ball was back on dry land.

“She said she drew ‘home.’”

“Home?”

He nodded, looked back over at you with raised eyebrows, a sense of nonchalance when he held his palm out to retrieve his phone. “Cute, right?”

It was cute, obviously. It was sweet and endearing and then you asked: “where’s the actual drawing?”

“On my nightstand.” He watched as CeCe tugged a hoola hoop from a bucket of toys. “Might frame it and show her, she’d be so excited.”

“She would be,” you nodded. “She’d love that.”

He left it alone, showed Maeve how to swing the bat better before you eventually decided it was too dark to sit outside. They sat at the island and ate ice cream, cherries and sprinkles and Harry even doused his in chocolate sauce.

Your heart ached for the family that CeCe drew: one with less complexity and one where age differences didn’t mean a thing. One where there was no such thing as death or divorce. Just four stick figures beneath a triangular roof with grass scribbled around the edges of paper.

You wished, desperately, that the four of you could be the stick figure family with no worries and no problems. You wished time could freeze and Harry’s house wouldn’t be ready in another 10 days. In a way you wished that Luke didn’t exist, you wished that your life was as simple as it looked on 8 x 11 inch paper with scribbled marker.

**

Zoey stood in your bedroom, lips pushed out in thought when you held up a different necklace. “This one is chunkier which I can’t tell if I like.”

She thought on it for a second, already dressed and ready to go like the timely human she was.

“I like the first one,” she nodded. “It’s more I’m the boss than that one.”

You laughed at her reasoning, held it up to your neck when CeCe burst through the doors with a scowl on her face. “Mommy, Maeve said I’m being stupid and annoying.”

You frowned at her but clasped the necklace around your neck, “that’s not very nice of her. Why’d she say that?”

“Because I was asking her to push me on the swing but she was too busy texting someone.”

You let out a sigh and made a face at Zoey in the mirror. Buying Maeve a cell phone was something you’d thought long and hard about. She begged and begged for one at her birthday, but something felt wrong about handing over a thousand dollar piece of technology to someone who was barely old enough to watch TV unsupervised.

Harry and Luke’s punching incident is what did you in, though. What if Maeve was at a friend’s house and something like that happened? You needed her to be able to contact you in case she felt unsafe or uncomfortable.

You also figured it would be a good way to distract her from what was really going on under your roof: mom fell for the guy who stayed in our guest suite and now it’s a hot mess.

“You’re not stupid or annoying,” Zoey reassured her. “Maeve just thinks she’s too cool for everyone now that she has a phone.”

CeCe let out a dramatic sigh. “You can say that again.”

A knock on the door, she turned around to see Harry. “Maeve said I’m stupid and annoying.”

Harry frowned and knelt in front of her. “That’s not true.”

“Oh I know,” she shrugged. “I just think that’s stupid and annoying of her to say that.”

You bit back a laugh when he looked up at you, shocked by her attitude and her wit before she ran off to her bedroom down the hall.

Harry stood back up and greeted Zoey. “Hi--how’re Shawn and Benny?”

“They’re great, and they’re on their own tonight which I am so grateful for.” She’d been dying for another night out of the house, she talked for weeks about what she wanted to wear and what she was going to drink. “You two should meet, you and Shawn. He’s not a musician by any means but he’s a killer steering wheel drummer when we have the classic rock hits on.”

Harry laughed, looked over to you quickly before nodding in Zoey’s direction. “I’d love that, maybe we could all have dinner.”

You nodded at the suggestion, hooked an earring into place before Harry remembered why he came in.

“Speaking of dinner, I have a meeting with my stylist but I’ll be there tonight, obviously. Probably around 7:15 though, is that alright?”

“Totally fine,” you nodded. He told you a few days earlier that you’d have to drive separately, quelling your anxiety about showing up together and going home together. Your living situation was no one’s business, but having Harry at the launch party to begin with was sure to stir up enough chatter, even if it was mostly from Tristan or Jeff.

You’d been trying to hide your anxiety. This was your biggest launch to date, arguably a step outside your comfort zone and feeling so uncertain about things at home left you feeling more nervous to have your employees and your friends in the same spot. The girls were headed to Shelli’s, a movie night and arts and crafts, she promised.

But it was setting in now, questions and thoughts and worries were bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Would Maeve and CeCe behave for Shelli? Would they get along with each other? Would the launch party go well? Would Tristan bring a date? Would people like the body wash? Would Harry sit next to you at dinner? Would things ever feel normal between the two of you again or would he move out and fade out of your life like he’d never even entered it at all?

Zoey had stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear as Shawn asked a question about formula.

“You alright?”

Harry was still in the doorway, suit pants on and a white button down as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Hey,” he took a step towards you. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to be great.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and then withdrew it. “You are great.”

You smiled, appreciative of his kindness but already overthinking the way he pulled his hand away, like your skin was too hot to touch or like your bodies coming into contact was suddenly forbidden.

“I just want the body wash to do well and I want the dinner to go smoothly. Tristan always goes overboard with these events and I just hope that the food is good, I mean, I’ve never eaten here before--”

He laughed, “hey, it’s going to be fine. I might be a bit late but I’ll get there and Jeff and I can do something stupid to make you laugh and forget about the stress of it all. Everyone wins.”

You nodded, reassured by his words but also caught off guard by how easy it was to admit: “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “Kind of feels like we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

You lifted your eyebrows at that, a week since Luke’s surprise visit and a week since Harry had so much as looked your way for more than ten seconds. You hadn’t told him to stop, you never said you didn’t want to keep sleeping with him or anything of the sort, but he took your words on the patio to mean that, apparently.

How were you supposed to backtrack? How were you supposed to have a conversation with him about it when there’d never been one in the first place?

If you hadn’t defined it originally, how were you supposed to quantify the change that had occurred as the bruise on his skin faded to a pale yellow?

“Okay,” Zoey laughed, a shake of her head when she ended the call and came back into the master suite. “How hard is it to find the bottle brush in the drawer where it’s literally been for the entirety of Benny’s short life?” She cut herself off when she looked up from her phone to see how close Harry stood to you.

He backed up. “Good luck, you’re going to kill it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nodded. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel and offered a smile to Zoey, whose eyes immediately flew to yours once he was descending the stairs. You briefed her over lunch shortly after Luke had shown up on your doorstep, but Zoey was decidedly team Harry and had a hard time even admitting that he shouldn't have gotten involved.

Her eyes were wide, lips set in a frown as if she’d just witnessed the most adorable thing. “He likes you so much.”

“No, Zoey, stop.”

“I leave the room for one second and you're having a heart to heart?”

“We weren't having a heart to heart,” you rolled your eyes. “He was just offering some encouragement.”

Partially true. His words were encouraging and that seemed to be the point of him coming up here. But you couldn’t admit to Zoey that part of your anxiety about the night was related to him. It felt stupid to admit that pulling back made you miss him, made you feel like something was missing.

Those feelings left your heart and your head a mess, unsure about what you needed and wanted and even more confused about what was right for everyone.

You turned back to the mirror to put your other earring in place. Zoey didn’t say more, she didn’t need to. She smiled at your reflection and you both knew that your words didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of it all. But you had a launch party to get to.

Your champagne flute was filled when you walked in, which was a great step towards quelling the nerves. Tristan was already working the crowd with grace and poise, smile plastered on his face when he bragged about all of the hard work your team had put in on this.

Zoey was excited to pump and dump in the bathroom, your employees were already plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver platters, and you just tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest of wishing your dad was here. He’d be proud, no doubt, he’d be excited for you and he’d be cracking jokes with Irv in the corner as Jeff tried to keep them under control.

The emptiness that he left in your life was something you’d live with forever, you were sure of this until suddenly there was a man in your house with a dimpled smile and patience for your children that you never saw coming.

Another look around the room, balloons in the corner, high heels and lipstick on the women that made your team what it was. A moment of excitement, of celebration, and yet your heartbeat picked up when you realized that you were here, alone.

You plucked your phone out to check the time, 7:24pm. He’d said 7:15--he clasped his hands on your shoulders like he meant it and you wondered where he was. Tristan pulled you over to another friendly face before you could sink too far down that rabbit hole.

Zoey had Shawn, Shelli had Irv, Jeff always had someone. Even Tristan had Tinder dates for the nights that he got lonely. You had the girls, of course, you had a life that you loved and a job you were proud of. But what did that matter if you didn’t have someone to share it with, to whisper to in the mornings when sun streamed through the windows and you were woken up too early by daughters that begged for adventures?

You’d grown used to feeling that way. Your marriage was over long before the papers were signed, but your father’s sudden decline left you reeling and unsure which way was up.

You’d never admit it aloud, but Harry showing up brought you back down to earth and kept you tethered to a life that felt manageable and doable and somehow possible.

Another glance at the time, 7:32pm. Tristan asked when you wanted to make a toast and thank everyone for coming to celebrate, you made an excuse and tried to buy yourself time like his absence was currency.

You wanted him here, you wanted his arm around your shoulders and you wanted to introduce him to your team--take a bite of his dinner and then bring him home like that was where he belonged.

How embarrassing, though, you talked yourself up enough to let him come and introduce him to the rest of the girls at work, only to be stood up or forgotten or altogether abandoned. Your fantasy of being with him felt even more stupid and naive when you realized that it’d probably never be like that.

Your glass was refilled at 7:49pm, Zoey laughed when your head of marketing recounted the embarrassing moment when a picture of Maeve ended up on the company instagram story.

Frustration, anger, maybe both when the clock struck 8pm. Forty-five minutes late without a text message? But those emotions were drowned out by the judgment: why do you care, he’s not your boyfriend, this doesn’t mean anything.

You answered too quickly when he called, phone pressed to your face: where are you?

Pulling up, down the street, I’m so sorry.

You handed your drink to Tristan, pushed out to the parking lot to find him jogging towards the door in the dark sky.

“Hi, hey, why are you out here?” his smile faded when he could see you were upset.

“I had no clue where you were and you didn’t even bother to text me--” you were stopped dead on the sidewalk, the sky was a light purple and he grabbed your hand to tug you back towards the entrance.

“I’m sorry, I know, my meeting went late and the traffic was terrible, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“You said you’d be here at 7:15 and I’ve been in there by myself--”

He didn’t understand, his eyebrows dipped on his forehead in confusion and he pulled at your arm again. “I know, I’m sorry, but let’s get back in there so you can--”

“No, Harry,” you yanked your hand out of his grasp. A deep breath, a twinkling light above the horizon, a plane on final approach to LAX. “Just give me a minute.”

He sighed, looked over his shoulder to the big windows that allowed a peek into the party. He didn’t say anything, waited for you to speak when the light at the intersection across the street turned green.

“I was stupid for thinking this would be a good idea,” you said aloud, arms crossed in the parking lot. “But it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s obviously a big deal,” he held a hand out, gesturing to the emotion in your voice. “I fucked up, I get that. I’m sorry--but I tried to call you and tell you I was going to be late, something’s wrong with my phone.”

Happy couples strolled out of the restaurant, arms linked with to-go boxes in hand. The air was still warm, streetlights illuminated the wrinkle in his forehead when he took a step forward. “Is this about more than the party?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his ability to read you and sense the real tension beneath the surface. So you lied: “No.”

“Y/N,” he said your name like he knew your words weren’t true. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should break the silence that you’d both been living in for weeks. Unspoken, so far--the feelings and the sex and the uncertainty of what it meant had been woven into your life and now you were about to tug the thread and see if it unraveled.

“We’ve been kidding ourselves, Harry, don’t you think?” When he tilted his head to the side, you took it as a cue to continue. “We’ve been acting like a couple and you’ve been acting like the father of my children and we can’t do that.”

His lips parted and your heart seemed to stop when he didn’t say anything. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets when he said: “okay.”

“Okay?”

An incredulous tone in your voice put him on the defense.

“What do you want me to say?” His shoulders lifted to his ears, a shake of his head when he dropped your gaze. “Living with you and spending time with the girls has been the greatest thing I’ve had all year, I mean that. But it’s your house, they’re your children. It’s your family.”

He was right, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t sting like salt in a wound when he asked: “Do you want me to move out?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He scoffed, upset or bothered or maybe both. “I was never trying to overstep any boundaries.”

“I know you weren’t,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem, all of this happened so naturally and you fit into our lives so well and the girls fell in love with you and I--”

You cut yourself off, clamped your mouth together as if the words would pry their way out.

“You what?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt again.”

He pointed a finger to his chest, anger on his face. “By me? You think I would do something to hurt them?”

“Not intentionally, Harry,” you let your arms flail against your sides. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t. Their dad left, their grandfather died, and then you moved in and suddenly it’s like you’re the missing piece they never had but that’s not realistic!”

“Why not?!” He was bothered now, more emotion in his eyes when his hands went up to run through his hair.

“Because you’re you. You’re a musician. You’re recording an album and going on tour and you’re not really able to be present. You couldn’t even show up tonight!”

“I’m not Luke,” he shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why does it bother you that I was late? Why does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Because if you’d do it to me you’d do it to them. We don’t need to be left by another man this year.”

You didn’t mean for the words to come off so biting and harsh. He nodded slowly, chest deflated before he brought his eyes back up to you. “Fine. I can get my stuff and stay at Jeff’s.”

The shift in his demeanor felt heavy, his shoulders angled away and suddenly the magnetic pull between your chests was no longer there, like the thread had been snipped altogether and your words had been the scissors.

“I--I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I understand.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Or do you not want to get hurt?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, a few steps towards you when his face softened. “Tell everyone I say hi. I’ll go get my things before the girls are home and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He let his arm snake around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head before you could stop him--not that you would have.

He left you there in the parking lot, alone again for the third time this year, walked out on and deserted when your eyes welled with tears. You turned on your heels to head inside, hoping that Tristan had kept things together and hoping that the champagne was still flowing.

Jeff found you first, hand on your elbow when he spotted you in the hallway near the bathroom, mascara on your cheeks when you tried to soak up tears with a folded napkin. “Hey--where have you been?”

“Harry’s moving out,” you said it quickly. “He’s going to--uh--he’ll stay at your place, I think, for now.”

He looked over his shoulder and back at the gathering behind you. “Is he here?”

“I found him in the parking lot--he left, though.”

“What happened?”

Where did you start? When was the line crossed? Was it when he started playing with the girls in the backyard? Was it when he carried CeCe up to her bed after Maeve’s sleepover? Or was it all the way back when he came to your birthday party and kissed you at the top of the stairs in an empty house?

“Nothing, it’s just time for him to move out,” you shook your head, embarrassed by the emotion streaming down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, shook your head and blotted your face again. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation and it certainly wasn’t the time for the tears.

“Y/N, stop. You’re letting him walk out of your life just like that?”

You looked up at him, thrown off by his question. “You don’t even know what happened. I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“No--I don’t know, but I also know that I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him and the girls.”

“He’s twenty-four, Jeff.”

“So what? That’s going to stop you from doing what’s right for you?”

“How is it right for me? He can’t be the type of person that Maeve and CeCe need.”

“Can he actually not be, or is the age thing getting in the way?”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now,” you pulled away from him, bothered by his strong opinions and his know-it-all attitude. Some things never changed.

“Don’t ruin something good just because you don’t know how it will end.”

You gave him the finger as you walked away, forced out a laugh and tried to flip the switch: happy, grateful, excited and ready for another glass of champagne.

He dropped it then, you left him with no choice but to follow you back out to the party. He ate mini cheesecakes before the crowd started to disperse and drove you home, a kiss on the cheek before you climbed out. Call me in the morning, he said. Translation: I hope you change your mind overnight.

Harry’s car was gone, and if you had to guess, the bed upstairs was made and the drawers were empty. His keys weren’t on the hook by the back door and when Shelli dropped off the girls and they raced inside, Maeve’s face fell.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, still numb from the whiplash of emotions. “He’s at Uncle Jeff’s--he’s gonna stay there from now on, I think.”

“Wait, so he moved out?”

“Harry’s gone?” CeCe asked.

“Not forever, no, no--he’s just not going to live here.”

“Why not?”

“He has to work,” you spit out quickly. “He’s busy.” What were you supposed to tell them? Mommy’s an idiot.

“Why does that mean he can’t live here?”

“Because he just can’t,” you said, a sigh when you knew the answer wasn’t good enough for Maeve. She must have sensed the emotion in your voice, though, because she didn’t push it.

“Can you bring your sister upstairs and start getting ready for bed, please?”

Shelli was at the island, quiet and observant when Maeve let out a reluctant sigh but ushered CeCe forward. They climbed in silence, and when the faucet was turned on, all bets were off.

“What on earth happened?”

“He can’t stay here, Shelli. We can’t do whatever it was we were doing.”

“Which was...”

“Pretending that he was their dad or something and me pretending that sleeping with him was normal.”

“And where does being happy factor into this nonsense equation?”

“It doesn’t.” You busied yourself at the sink, grabbed for the sponge and wiped invisible crumbs from the granite to keep your hands busy. “After Luke and my dad, I was just stupid, okay? It was poor judgment.”

She set her purse down on a stool and watched you closely. “Why does your happiness always come last, Y/N?”

“Because! My happiness doesn’t matter if the decision is stupid. Me plus Harry just doesn’t make sense!” You whispered at her, voice wrought with emotion. “He’s so young and busy and he’s in the industry and--”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Which part?”

“The industry, him being a musician.”

You waved her off like she wasn’t sniffing the truth out of you with ease. “It’s just a piece of it.”

“Y/N, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you’re destined for the same future.”

You stopped wiping at that. “Really? Cause I’m thirty-two and already divorced.”

“But that’s because Luke is an asshole,” she reasoned, “not because of you or the girls.”

A sigh from between your lips, fervent wiping again with the tough side of the sponge, you were sure you felt something sticky. “Well, I doubt Harry would ever be the kind to settle down. That’s unrealistic. He’s famous and busy and he probably is sick of being on carpool duty anyway--probably wants to get back to snorting cocaine off of someone’s tits.”

She let out a quick laugh, shook her head. “You are really in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” you looked up at her again and then back at the counter. “I’m just being honest.”

“I don’t think he was ever snorting cocaine off of anyone’s anything. I might not know him as well as Jeffrey does, but, he seems pretty happy here with you three.”

“The girls loved having him here,” you said the thought aloud, it escaped into the air before you could realize Shelli didn’t need anymore ammunition.

“And did you?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you moved back to the sink, wrung out the sponge and then turned to face her. “It was nice, I guess.”

“Well, then I guess that makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four people who were all happy with the way things were going. Before you went and turned it upside down out of fear.”

“Okay,” you held up your hands, hoping to end the conversation. It was too late and you were tired--the final glass of champagne had your eyes heavy in the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “I need to sleep.”

She let out a sigh and picked up her purse, moved around the counter to come and wrap her arms around you. “Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

“Goodnight,” you said sweetly, hoping that your tone would usher her out of the house and into her car, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

She laughed, called over her shoulder when she made her way for the door. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

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[bucksfucks]

         amorosa // steve rogers

chapter seven: scattered touches

 chapter one // chapter two // chapter three    

     chapter four // chapter five // chapter six

               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

                             main masterlist

                            series masterlist

summary || three months after you’d called it quits with steve you realise you miss him more than you thought you would.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader

word count || 1,979 words

warnings || sugar daddy/sugar baby themes, financial issues, undefined age gap, sloppy car sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, angst, fluff — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes || yes this is full of cliches and tropes, let me live out my fantasy hehe

     It was easy for the days to turn into weeks and the weeks into months. With nothing to ground you to reality, life felt like it was slipping through your fingers; not that you really minded. 

    Moving out of Steve’s place was by far the most miserable you had been. 

    He wasn’t there, you weren’t sure if he even lived there anymore. 

    Steve had let work consume him just like you had let your thoughts consume you. 

    Three months passed, in the time you had managed to find a new apartment for yourself. A good, fun job that you actually liked. A job where you wouldn’t have to run around waiting on tables of rich men.

    A job that wouldn’t remind you of Steve. 

    “Do you ever wonder how he’s doing?” Simoné’s voice filled the cozy kitchen the two of you shared. 

    She was still working at the restaurant, but she always enjoyed it more than you ever did. 

    “Nope.”

    Yes you do. You lie awake wondering who he’s with now. If he’s found someone else to spoil.

    “I can tell when you’re lying to me,” she chuckled, giving you a knowing look over her shoulder. 

    You sighed, a sympathetic smile on your face as you knew she was just trying to be a good friend and help you. 

    It was pasta night which meant you were on noodles and she was on sauce. 

    That’s the one good thing about working at a restaurant, the cooks are nice enough to give you free cooking tips. 

    “I do, yeah,” you admit, “I just hate that I do.” 

    She nods, a warm hand on your shoulder as she plates some food for the both of you as you open a bottle of wine, pouring two generous glasses. 

    “He never said anything about Peggy?” She asked as you grimaced at the sound of the other woman’s name. 

    “She was his wife, they ended on bad terms, and that she’s definitely not one to mess with. That’s all I know.” You sighed as you fell into one of the dining room chairs. 

    Simoné gave you a look that said she had more questions, questions that you probably didn’t have answers to. 

    “Peter was nice enough to offer getting some more information on her, but,” you stopped, the sound of your ringtone filling the small apartment. 

    You picked it up, seeing Steve’s name pop up.

    There were no emoji’s, no sign that you had ever been in a relationship of any sorts with him. 

    “I’m not picking it up.” You told Simoné as she rolled her eyes, “you know curiosity killed the cat, but the answer brought it back.”

    You narrowed your eyes, gnawing on your lip as the device vibrated in your hand. 

    “Fine,” you groaned, swiping across the screen and quickly retreating to your room as Simoné shouted various words of encouragement. 

    “Steve what is it?” You said, perhaps a little harshly as you heard a soft sigh on the other end. 

    “Sweetheart, just let me explain everything. Please, I know I sure as hell don’t deserve this chance, but if you let me, I’ll make it up to you.” 

    His voice was low and sweet, slightly hoarse as you hated to admit that you missed the sound of it. 

    There was a hollow feeling inside of you ever since you, in a way, broke up with Steve. 

    “One cup of coffee.” You said, trying to hold back the emotions in your voice. 

    “One cup of coffee.” He echoed your words, your stomach fluttering as you heard him chuckle, “that’s all I’ll need.” 

    “That’s all you’ll get, Rogers.” You chid back, playful edge in your voice before you hung up the phone in an attempt to put together what you were about to do.

~

    Leave it to Steve to pick the fanciest, classiest, and nicest café in all of New York to take you to. 

    You still felt out of place, the hoodie you were wearing must’ve been a dead giveaway that yes, it was your first time here. 

    Yet, you couldn’t stop the feeling of excitement as you lifted your head each time a new patron entered the small shop. 

    It never ended up being Steve. 

    Until it did. 

    He walked in wearing nothing less than what you expected; a neatly tailored suit, polished shoes, and the posture of a Greek god. 

    Fuck. 

    You, along with everyone else, had their eyes on Steve as he stalked through the tables and stopped in front of you. He bent down, placing a kiss to each cheek, “how are you?”

    “Fine,” you replied, slightly mesmerized by his presence.

    He smiled, taking a seat across from you before a waiter quickly took both of your orders, Steve reciting yours from memory. 

    “How’ve you been, sweetheart?” He asked, the pet-name making your heart ache as you didn’t realize how much it would affect you. 

    “Okay, living with Simoné now. And uh, I got a job too, so it’s been good.” You told him, and you weren’t lying. 

    He nodded his head, eyes trained on you as your cup of coffee was placed in front of you.

    “Have you been?” You asked the dreaded question, figuring it was now or never to rip off the bandaid and find out if he’s been seeing someone new. 

    He sighed, running his fingers through his hair; a nervous habit. 

    “I’ve been better,” he gave you a tired smile, taking a sip of his coffee as he leaned on his elbows in an attempt to get closer to you. 

    His musky cologne washed over you, it wasn’t the same one from before. 

    You didn’t know why it broke your heart. 

    “I’m sorry to hear that,” you said, not really knowing how else to fill the silence. 

    He chuckled, “I’ve missed you, you were always so,” he trailed off, “polite.”

    It didn’t take much to realise it was a euphemism and you had to fight back a shiver. 

    You swallowed thickly, inhaling a shaky breath as Steve leaned in closer. 

    “Let’s cut to the chase, yeah?” He asked and you nodded, eyes darting around the little café suddenly feeling as if all eyes were on you. 

    You sat and you talked, you took turns listening, a pastry and a few cups of coffee later, you felt like the old Steve, your Steve, was back and sitting in front of you. 

    “I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart. Peggy,” he whispered her name like it was a curse, “is a part of my past, my past that I wish I could erase.” 

    You wanted to reach over and hold his hand, your fingers twitching and aching for him warmth, but you stopped yourself. 

    “My intentions were never to hurt you, I’ve always wanted to protect you.”

    “You lost my trust, Steve,” you almost whispered as his eyes softened. 

    “I’m not asking you to forgive me, all I want is to know you’re safe and taken care of.” 

    You nodded your head, averting your eyes as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers. This was the Steve you fell in love with. 

    “Can I give you a ride home? It’s getting late and I hate the thought of you on the subway alone at night.” 

    You nodded your head, grabbing your things and following Steve out as you let his words replay in your head. 

    You were on autopilot as he opened the door of his car, a new one by the looks of it as you crawled inside. 

    The drive back was quiet, the subtle roar of his engine mixed with soft music consumed you both as you slowly relaxed into the seat. 

    “Right here?” Steve’s voice brought you back to reality as he pulled up outside of you apartment building, “the one and only.” You chuckled, the first time you had smiled a genuine, carefree smile that night. 

    “I would invite you up, but I think Simoné has an early morning tomorrow.” You said, a small flame erupting inside of you.

    The tension between the two of you had been thick ever since you got into the car. Steve nodded his head, “no worries, sweetheart. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

    You didn’t want to leave, your brain telling you to tell him goodnight, but your body wanted to pull him in by his tie and let him taste you. 

    “You okay there, sweetheart?” He asked, a small smirk on his lips as you shook your head, “yeah, uhm, just thinking.” 

    He hummed, “what about?” 

    You could feel his breath over your face as he leaned in, yours shaky as you met his eyes.

    “Just stuff,” you could barely get the words out before his lips sealed yours. 

    You gasped into his kiss, your fingers going to tangle in his collar, pulling at his tie as he hummed. 

    “Did you miss me, Princess? Did you miss Daddy?” You whimpered at his words, skin feeling on fire as he let his hands roam up your arms. 

    “Daddy sure as hell missed you,” her growled, pulling you over his lap quickly as you let out a squeak, laughing as the way his tie got tangled in your hoodie strings. 

    Your laughter was short lived, a moan replacing it as he ground your hips over his. 

    “Fuck,” your words were strangled as he gently sunk his teeth into the skin of your neck, “that’s it baby, feel what you do to me? How fuckin’ hard my cock is for you already?”

    You shivered, your head falling onto his shoulder as you whined. 

    “Shh, it’s okay, Daddy’s here, ‘m right here,” he whispered, “let me take care of you.” 

    He cradled your face, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt, “please.” You croaked, throat dry before his lips were on yours once again. 

    “Wanna feel you,” you nearly begged, both of your hips rocking against each other as he threw his head back. 

    His lips were red, wet, and slightly swollen as his tie hung loosely around his neck as he made quick work of his belt. 

    “Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, “that’s what you want? Need Daddy’s cock?” He cooed as he slipped your leggings down one of your legs, not bothering with the other.

    It was a tight, crammed space, both your backs would feel it tomorrow, but in the moment, neither of you cared. 

    “Move your panties to the side, that’s it, Princess,” he praises, feeling the head of his cock at your entrance as you throw your head back.

    Sinking onto him has you breathless, nothing else mattering as he fills you up and grips at your hips like he’s afraid to lose you again.

    “Fuck, I-I thought I’d lost you,” he pants as you move your hips over him, “thought I lost the one good thing in my life.” He admits, your heart skipping a beat as your bodies move in sync with each other. 

    You press your forehead against his, the feeling of his warm skin enough to bring a tear to your eyes as he rocks you against him. 

    It’s embarrassing how close you are, but you didn’t realise how much you’d needed to be touched. Not be anyone, but by Steve. 

    “Want you to come for Daddy, don’t hold back,” he grunts, eyebrows knit tightly together as you both sloppily reach your highs in just a matter of minutes. 

    You’re left panting, the windows foggy as Steve presses kisses to your face. 

    You don’t care about the implications, not wanting anything or anyone other than Steve right now.

    It’s a cool night when you finally step out, Steve doing the same before he’s pulling you into one last kiss as he watches you walk away. 

    You give him one last look over your shoulder, “hey Steve?”

    His head perks up, “call me.”

tagging //  @jennmurawski13 | @nakedrogers | @vollzeitliebe | @kelbabyblue | @jevans2 | @babyyhoneyydarling | @cloudystevie | @lahoete | @speechlessxx | @aikeia

[pies-writes-and-more]

Hungover Love

word count: 2,688

pairing: UniversityStudent!Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

warnings: characters getting drunk and hungover - all assumed to be of legal age

a/n: I don’t know where this came from but I started writing it so here it is haha. Got the idea from @moanlightlust‘s list (can find it here!) so thank you! I’ll bold the prompt down below (I kinda changed it for the sake of the story but still got the idea from their prompt list :)) Thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells​ and @thisnoodlewritesao3​ for reading over this for me! Love you both :)

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“Akaashi?” You repeated the name for the second time as you strained your ears to hear something besides bar music and Bokuto’s loud voice in the background.

“Hm?” The small grunt made you smile, knowing he was probably slumped over on a chair, holding his face in one hand and leaning on a table in front of him, with his other hand pressing his phone a little too hard on his ear.

You let out a small laugh, pausing the show you had on your TV so you could hear him better, “Akaashi, you called me. Did you need something?”

There was another grunt on the other end of the line, and you chuckled as you heard Konoha teasing Bokuto about something in the distance, “What is it, Akaashi?” You inquired some more, listening to him hum quietly to the song playing.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he mumbled and you just shook your head with a smile. God he must’ve had far too many drinks to be this out of it. “I fucking love Y/N Y/L/N. It almost feels like she can hear me right now,” he was saying and you just laughed. “Like I can... I can hear her laughing.”

“Akaashi, you idiot,” your face felt hot but you tried to ignore it. He was drunk. Very clearly drunk. He didn’t mean anything by it - the last time he was drunk, he told you he was going to leave his college volleyball team and join some new sport because Bokuto was getting on his nerves. 

It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. It didn’t matter that those were the words you had been waiting to hear from him. It didn’t matter that you’d spent the last two years pining after him. He was drunk.

“Didya know... the other day.... Y/N smiled at me cause I said something funny- what did I say... I can’t remember what I said but I said something funny and she smiled and I just.. God it’s that smile ya know?” Akaashi’s voice seemed so much lighter than it did usually. You could tell that he was smiling and just imagining that goofy drunk smile on his face made your heart skip a beat or two.

“That’s nice,” you tried to keep things casual, avoid getting your hopes up too much. You didn’t want to ruin what you had with him - the nice fun friendship that was definitely just a friendship.

“Y/N?” Akaashi suddenly seemed a lot more present, as if just realizing you were on the line. 

“Yea?”

“Y/N!” The smile on his face was probably a lot bigger from the sounds of it, a chuckle slipping from his lips, “I love you, Y/N! I’ve loved you ever since I met you when you picked up my runaway ball for me back in high school. You were so pretty then and you’re super pretty now. Like you get prettier every day I see you-” his speech was quick and slurred, you could almost feel him getting drunker by the second.

“Akaashi-”

“Bokuto keeps telling me that I need to tell you but I dunno if I can because I’m pretty sure you like that dude that lives across from you and-”

“Akaashi-”

“But I guess I wouldn’t know until I told you right? So I’m telling you because I like you. I really like you. I wanted to bring you to that new ice cream place down the road from your place but you always seemed so busy and I don’t want to bug you, plus volleyball takes up so much time, and then there’s school, and I don’t even know how to balance volleyball, school, and a girlfriend-”

“Akaashi!” Your voice was louder this time, biting down on your inner cheek as his name left your lips. You needed him to stop - it had to stop. Your heart was fluttering too much and you couldn’t even tell how much of this was true. You wanted to tell yourself that alcohol could bring out people’s true feelings, but it also made you do dumb shit. And wouldn’t confessing to someone you didn’t actually like be considered dumb shit?

“Ya that’s me,” Akaashi mumbled, clearly a lot more tired than he seemed five seconds ago.

You tried not to laugh, tried to swallow your fears and your feelings, your heart feeling like it was beating a thousand times a minute. “I need you to go sober up, get some rest and drink lots of water okay?”

“But-”

“No but’s! You obviously drank way too much and honestly, I’ve never heard you talk like this before and I can’t even tell if it’s you anymore,” you acted like you were scolding him, putting up that wall again like you had so many other times before. He couldn’t really like you, could he? There was no way.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I fucking love you!” Akaashi yelled into the phone, making you cringe a bit at the volume.

Your chest was tightening, you couldn’t tell if it was fear or hope but whatever it was, it was scaring the shit out of you, “Shut the hell up! If you love me so much tell me when you’re sober, dammit!” You yelled back, immediately hanging up the phone. Your eyes widened as you watched the call screen disappear, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

The next few hours were radio silent from both Bokuto and Akaashi. You refused to text either of them in fear that you might accidentally say more than you wanted to.

It’s fine, he was really drunk from the sounds of it so he probably won’t even remember it right? I mean, the last time he got super drunk, he didn’t remember challenging the bartender to a pushup fight so... so he won’t remember.... right?

You paced in your room for a bit, glancing at your phone every five seconds to see if there was any sort of notification from either of your friends. But nothing. 

You barely slept a wink that night, tossing and turning while facing dreams of Akaashi laughing in your face the next time you saw him.

You thought I meant that? It was just a joke, Y/N.

I only see you as a friend, sorry.

Don’t you think you’re reading into our friendship a little too much? That’s all there is. Friendship. 

The idea of Akaashi awkwardly laughing in your face, giving you that half smile while dismissing your feelings haunted you for hours. By the time the sun came up, you gave up on the idea of sleeping and threw your blanket off of you. It was time to figure out how to survive your day without thinking about Akaashi Keiji at all. 

It wasn’t easy. Everything reminded you of him. Half of your Netflix was shows you were watching with him, or movies you’d already seen with him next to you. Your homework wasn’t any help either (though you definitely needed to get it done). Akaashi would normally come over and study with you, his adorable glasses making him look like some young professor, twirling his pencil around in his fingers while nodding along to some song stuck in his head. You couldn’t get used to studying on your own.

Radio silence finally broke when you texted Bokuto, asking if they all made it home safe last night and he responded with a very badly spelled text message saying, “himw safe so tirwd need adcil heaf hurtinh” (aka. home safe so tired need advil head hurting) 

Your lips curled into a small smile - at least Bokuto was alive. And the fact that he wasn’t all up in your face about Akaashi meant that the setter probably hadn’t said anything last night, or at least, it meant that Bokuto was too busy tending to a hangover to think about it.

A knock on your door made you jump, watching it for a moment before slowly approaching.

“Oi, open up, I know you’re in there.”

You calculated the odds and realistically there were only 3 reasons why Akaashi would be at your door right now, while he was still probably very hungover.

A. He was tired of listening to Bokuto complain about being hungover while also hungover and wanted you to help take care of him.

B. He wasn’t actually hungover and wanted to hang out.

C. He remembered your phone call from last night and wanted to confront you about it.

...

There was no way it was B or C so... it had to be A right?

You opened the door with a smile on your face, trying to pretend like this was the first time you spoke to him since you saw him earlier yesterday.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” You asked, welcoming him in and watching his movements as he shuffled inside. He was wearing his sunglasses and wincing a little so... it definitely wasn’t B. He was definitely still hungover.

“Good morning to you too,” Akaashi chuckled slightly, groaning as he made his way over to your couch and flopped onto it. “God, my head is killing me,” he grumbled.

You felt almost a bit of relief - he wasn’t bringing it up so... it must mean that C wasn’t an option right? “I’ll make you some tea. Want something to eat?”

He made a noise that you assumed was a yes, grabbing some ramen packages that you liked to have whenever you were hungover.

“How’re the boys?” You asked as soon as the tea was finished, handing it to him as he sat up with a huff.

“Fine... I told them I didn’t want to get drunk,” he rolled his eyes. “But Bokuto kept pouring shots and being a little bitch when I didn’t want to have them... something about how he didn’t want to lose his best friend or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head slowly as you moved back to your little kitchen, “You’re always so busy studying. Bokuto probably just misses having you around.”

“We live together.”

“Ya well you’re always either on campus or here with me so I can see why he’d miss you,” you smirked, humming softly to yourself as you let the noodles cook. Things were okay. Things were normal. Things were going to be fine - all your worries were slipping away-

“So are we not going to talk about it?” 

Akaashi’s voice made you jump, turning around to find him standing right behind you and slowly sipping on the tea.

“Fuck, Akaashi, don’t do that,” you glared at him, hitting his arm, “Could’ve made me burn myself.” 

“Sorry,” he gave you a small smile, leaning against the nearby counter. “But we are going to talk about it, aren’t we?”

The ramen so clearly needed stirring and stirring was a full focus kind of job and this was obviously why you were looking into the pot and not looking at Akaashi, even though you could feel his eyes watching you, “Talk about what? Bokuto missing you?”

Akaashi chuckled and lifted his finger to under your chin, tilting your face to look at him, “I drank a lot. But I don’t think any amount of alcohol could make me forget how embarrassing I was.”

“Embarrassing?”

He watched your eyes for a moment before pulling his hand away from you and looking down at his tea, his smile slowly stiffening, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable. I just thought I should apologize and let you know that you don’t have to reject me or anything. I like being friends with you and that’s enough for me, even if there’s a part of me that wants more.”

You almost dropped your spoon on the floor, staring at him with wide eyes, “S-Sorry what? Apologize? For... for what?”

“For confessing to you while drunk,” Akaashi’s smile was turning more sad now, taking a slow sip from his tea. “I’d been considering telling you how I feel for a while now and I guess I should’ve stopped myself from drinking sooner to save you the embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment? Akaashi, don’t be an idiot,” you ignored the soup still dripping from the spoon and whacked his arm with it.

“Hey!”

“You’re telling me you were drunk enough to confess to me and to remember what you said but not remember what I said at the end?” You huffed, hands on your hips now. 

Akaashi’s eyes lifted to the ceiling in thought, his lips pursing slowly like he did when he was concentrating on getting an answer right on his homework, “I know you seemed mad,” he finally responded, shrugging a bit. “I figured it was cause I put you on the spot like that.”

“No you absolute meathead, it’s because after months and months of pining after you, weeks of Bokuto almost spilling my secret on multiple different occasions to you, him almost screaming to you once about how much I love you, you end up telling me you love me over a drunk phone call and I can’t tell if you’re being serious or just a drunk dummy!” You scold him, hitting his arm again with your hand and shaking your head. God, for a boy with as high of an average as he had, how is it possible that there were no brain cells running around in that head of his?

Akaashi smirked a little, watching your eyes as you ranted, a playful smile on his lips, “So... you love me huh?”

“You better get out of my sight before I dump this ramen on your head,” you glare at him, trying your best not to smile because his smile was just so contagious but ugh that evil little smirk of his-

His lips were suddenly on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your skin and letting you feel the smirk still toying on his expression, “Drunk or not. I do love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y-Yeah yeah whatever,” you avoid his eyes some more, your whole face feeling hot and your cheek tingling where he had kissed you. “Go sit, it’s almost done.”

“Not until you say it back,” he teased, hugging you from behind and peppering your cheeks with some more kisses. “You said you love me, you can’t take it back now. Say it again.”

“Why?” you laughed, trying to pull away from his tight hug.

“Because it’s the best news I’ve ever gotten and I want to hear you say it again and again and again,” he insisted, turning you around to face him and smiling down at you. “Pretty please?”

You sighed with a smile on your face because as annoying as he could be, you really did mean it when you tell him, “I love you too, Akaashi.”

Alone time with Akaashi lasted long enough for him to properly ask you to go on a date with him to that ice cream shop, and was then interrupted by Bokuto showing up at your door and inviting himself in with a grin.

Apparently, the cure to Bokuto’s hangover was just knowing his two best friends had finally confessed to each other.

“God, I thought he’d never get drunk enough,” Bokuto grinned proudly to himself after you had happily explained the details to him. “I thought I’d have to just keep ordering him drinks.”

“What?” Akaashi glared at him, putting the pieces together.

Bokuto just smirked mischievously, “You can’t get mad cause it worked. I figured it would take a miracle to get you two to confess. And getting you drunk is basically a miracle.”

The fact that you were laughing made Akaashi want to kill Bokuto a little less, and even though he glared some more at his best friend, he would secretly thank him later for helping him get the courage to get the girl of his dreams. As much as Bokuto could get on his nerves sometimes, it really would be thanks to him that Akaashi got to take you out on that cute date and tell you just how much he loves you every day.

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[roger-that-cap]

all the flowers will bloom

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: nothing much!! some fluff, some bonding, near death experience, dog petting

word count: 3.2k

this is part three!

It was late at night, and the only way you knew was because it was utterly silent. The dead didn’t sleep, but the night was their quiet time. It was their time to reflect and be alone, and it was almost sacred to them. You knew that no one would be around to watch you in the garden, whether you failed or succeeded. 

You woke up one morning starving. Your stomach was rumbling in a way it never had before, and you groaned at the feeling. Had you really not eaten anything the whole time? 

You rolled out of your bed and opened the door to your room, walking blindly down the hall and trying to find something, anything. The urge to eat was strong, and it was calling you. You vaguely remembered Natasha telling you about a kitchen, and how the humans who used to cook in their past lives took residency there and cooked for everyone who wanted to eat, even though feeding wasn’t necessary to the dead.  

You weren’t dead just yet. 

Your feet were taking you somewhere, past souls who couldn’t care less about your presence and then past others who stared at you like you were from a famous myth. Either way, none of them spoke to you, and you didn’t speak to either of them. You were just hungry. 

“Are you looking to eat something, darling?” A voice crooned, head peeking out of some double doors. 

  “Yes.” You cleared your throat. “I know it’s early, but, are these the kitchens?” 

 “They are,” the woman said, and you noticed how her form was slightly more wispy than all of the others you had seen. “We haven’t started yet, but we have some things left over from yesterday, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please.” 

“Come in, child.” And so you did. Your steps took you further while something in the back of your mind was urging you to go the other way. Your stomach called for the exact opposite, and it won. Your steps got faster despite the bells going off in your head, and then you were standing over a table of pastries. 

  “Wow, these look beautiful,” you murmured, eyes catching on multiple different dishes. The bells got louder, but you ignored them as you finally reached for the one on the far right. You smiled at the woman, who was watching you with hawk eyes, poorly hidden anticipation on her face as she waited for you to eat. “Thank you for allowing me to have one, miss.” 

  “Wait, don’t let her eat that, she’s not dead!” 

The pastry was slapped from your hand just as it was about to go into your open mouth. You gasped as you were turned by your shoulders to meet an unfamiliar face, yet another woman. She was more solid than the other one behind you, who you discovered had faded away at the sight of the new arrival. 

 The woman had brown hair and light green eyes, bordering on blue. She was breathing heavily, like she ran miles just to get to her spot. Her eyes were wild and worried all the same as she shook you twice. “Why the hell were you about to eat that?” 

“What?” 

“You’re alive, what are you doing?” You matched her worry, hands shaking and eyes wide as you stared at her in silence. “Do you not want to go home?” 

A strong presence seeped into the room slowly at first, and then it was suffocating everything and everyone else. And just like that, the woman who saved you stepped back from and faced the doors, doing the same as everyone else and kneeling with her head bowed. You looked towards the door and saw Natasha walking in, her aura dark as she commanded the room without any effort.

“What’s going on here?” 

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then the woman closest to you was speaking, head still hung low in respect. “A nymph tried to feed her, Your Majesty.” 

You watched Natasha stiffen, and then her eyes turned to you. She stalked forward quickly, steps so intimidating that you almost retreated. “Open your mouth.” 

  Your fear melted into confusion. “What?” 

Natasha’s eyes were ablaze as she gripped your chin, her initial hold harsh and even edging towards desperate, but in the quickest of seconds she loosened her hold on your slacked jaw. “Did she eat any?” 

“I got to her before she could put it in her mouth, Your Grace.” Natasha’s eyes lingered on you, blank and observing everything about your face at the moment before taking a step back, but if anything, the intensity only doubled. 

  “You are never to eat a thing here, do you understand?” Her voice was hard, harder than you had ever heard it. When you failed to answer, she narrowed her eyes even further at you. “What you did could have killed you, Persephone. Don’t eat down here, ever.” 

You opened your mouth and almost shut it because of the smoldering look she was giving you. Yiu grappled for words for a second, slightly embarrassed that all you could get out was a pitiful, whiney statement. “B-but, I was hungry.” 

Her expression of seriousness cracked just a little. “I forgot that you would be. I apologize.” There was a gasp from over in the kitchens, and you retreated into yourself after knowing that everyone else was listening. They were gasping because she apologized. “But if you ever get hungry, come to me, and I’ll fix it. Never eat anything here.” 

You were still shaken by how angry she seemed, and by the way the skin on your hand still slightly stung with the force of the woman’s slap. But you were still curious. “Why?” 

“If you eat something here, you’re consenting to be a full time resident.” You sucked in a breath. “If you were dead, it wouldn’t matter. But you need to go see that horrible mother of yours, and eating won’t let you do that.” 

  Your heart was racing. You could have been trapped there, in the Underworld. For longer than you were even supposed to be. You looked down at the woman and how quick she was to recognize what was wrong with you eating, and then you realized that it was a known fact. That meant only one thing. 

 “That lady was trying to set me up!” You gasped informally, and Natasha gritted her teeth.

  “And she will be dealt with.” She turned to look at the woman who saved you. “Thank you, Maria. You will be rewarded for your behavior.” 

  “It was my pleasure, Your Grace.” She stood up and bowed again before walking away. 

Everyone else cleared out while you and Natasha looked at each other, eyes seemingly gravitating towards each other’s. “When you’re hungry, come to me.” She repeated, and you frowned. 

  “How can you fix it if I can’t eat?”

“The same way I fix the feeling of death every morning,” Natasha sighed. “It’s mostly all in your head. The hunger, the darkness, they’re side effects of being here. I just take it out for you.” 

You took a slight second to marvel at the idea of her being able to do something like that. “So you can make me feel full?” 

There was something that flashed behind her eyes, passing too quickly for you to identify. Her gorgeous mouth attracted your attention as her lips pulled up slightly, just enough for you to notice. “If I tried hard enough, I could make you feel nearly anything.” 

Why did her words feel like she meant something entirely different than what it was supposed to? 

§§

The earth was dry. Not a thing was growing, and everything that managed to slip by and grow died within days. Demeter was on a rampage, angry beyond belief. Nothing good ever happened when a god was angry. 

“The humans are suffering,” Steve pointed out to her, aware that he needed to say his piece gently, or risk Demeter losing her temper again at the expense of mankind. 

“I don’t care,” the goddess hissed, even though it wasn’t necessarily true. “I will let them all starve if my daughter isn’t found and brought back to me.”

“What do you want me to do, Demeter?” He asked, shifting on his throne and giving her a mildly annoyed look. “I don’t have her, and I don’t know anyone who is stupid enough to take her.” 

“I want you to call Hecate.” She ground out, and Steve gave her a disappointed look. “She looks up to you. You’re the only one who can bring her out of hiding, and she’s the only one with the magic that can track down my Persephone.”

He looked down on her from his throne, and she picked her chin up as he gave her an even more disapproving look. “It’s not right to pull Wanda back into this, and you know it.”

“It’s been ages since the fight against the Titans. They’re all dead or locked away, now. She’s fine.” If it was anyone else at stake, anyone other than her Persephone, maybe Demeter would have agreed with Steve. Wanda was traumatized after the wars with the Titans, and everyone knew that after what she had done, she deserved to live however she wanted in peace. But she could rest after Persephone was found. “Call her.”

“I can’t just-”

“You are the king of us all, there’s not a goddamn thing that you can’t do! You’re going to call Hecate here right now, or I will let every single human down there rot and wither away, do you understand me? Not a soul will be alive to offer you anything, and then they’ll all take a trip to see that bitch of the Underworld.”

Steve watched her with an unamused glare, equally annoyed with her as he was wary. “Demeter, calm down.” 

She looked like she was getting fired up all over again, but she scoffed and shook her head, taking a second to find the right words through her fury. “Fine. For now, I’ll be calm. But you have to swear to me that whoever has taken Persephone, I get to destroy them. Without question.” 

Steve’s words came quick, but he meant them. “I promise.” 

��Good.” She straightened out the crown of flowers that had tilted on her head, and then crossed her arms. “Call Hecate.”

                                          ****

The days passed by the same. Every morning, you would wake up and feel like you were inches from death, and then Hades— Natasha—would come in and put her strangely warm hands on your throat and chest, and then you could breathe again. You would be escorted by her to the second level, where you would exert yourself so much that your knees trembled only to get no results. She would put her hand right on your stomach and make the hunger in your stomach reduce to nothing, and sometimes she would even eradicate the pain in your knees from kneeling through the day. And then, hours later, you would trudge back to your room and cry. It was the same old song every day. 

You missed your mother. You missed the way that the outside world could bring you freedom, even though you were trapped by your mother’s hold. You missed the nymphs, and even their worrying. You missed dipping your toes into the ponds and swimming and singing without a care in the world. Now, you were fighting for the nearly impossible to happen, working your hardest to see your own world again. 

  “You’re going to die before you fix it if you keep going like this.” 

  You had mixed feelings about Natasha. The rational part of your brain knew that she didn’t want you there either, and that she would rather not have you in her space and presence. You had touched something that didn’t belong to you, and now you were paying for it. But the part of your mind that made you want to scream and cry was angry and almost constantly blaming her. 

The rational part of your mind won. “I don’t know how else to do it.” 

“What do you do when you’re above ground?” She asked, taking a few steps closer to the place where you were kneeling down, knees in the dirt and dress pulled up so that it wouldn’t have two big brown spots on it. “Because I know this isn’t it.” 

    She was right. You were pushing yourself, and your mind wasn’t in the same spot as it would have been if you were in your natural habitat. Usually, you could just look at a spot in the ground and it would grow. In particularly harsh lands, you would touch the soul, but it never got harder than that. This felt nearly impossible. 

  “How would you know?” 

“I know all about you creator gods and your gifts,” she said, her tone almost bored. “It comes easy to you. Creating life is your safe space, isn’t it?” You didn’t need to answer. “There’s no way that something that you were born for makes you react like you’re reacting now.” 

  “Well, you want me to grow an entire garden in a world where nothing lives,” you said, running a hand over your face as you tried your hardest not to cry. “And whether or not I see everyone again is based on that. So forgive me if I’m not being efficient.” She was silent after that, so you turned and out your hands in the dirt again, breathing in and out. 

 “Have you heard of that one idea by that one human?” You had almost forgotten that she was still there, speaking too vaguely for you to even try to understand. “You can’t produce anything good if you don’t feel good. I think the same may apply for the gods.” 

  Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt as you cast a look at her over your shoulder, a small and sarcastic smile on your face. “There are many ways this conversation could go, would you mind elaborating?” 

There were a few heart beats worth of silence. “Would you like to see Cerberus now, Persephone?”

“It’s Y/N,” you corrected immediately even though your heart jumped, and you had to work to keep your frown going. “What makes you think that seeing your dog would make me happy?” 

  “I never said happy,” the older goddess corrected, and then she sighed. “But it could be a start.” 

  “You can’t be serious,” you said, taking your hand from the dirt and turning around to stand, giving Natasha an incredulous look, even though you meant it to be more curious. “Why do you care?” 

 “I told you, I don’t want you here for any longer than necessary. I don’t need the Mother of Corn Stalks attempting to wage war on me.” She turned around and took a step forward, and you knew that she was walking to the elevator and expected you to follow. 

  You did. 

You watched the doors open and watched her form as she let herself in first, and then looked at you expectantly. “And, besides, I hate to watch flowers wilt. That’s the whole reason you’re even here, you know.” 

She hated to watch flowers die? That seemed uncharacteristic of the woman that your mother had warned you about, but you were quickly learning that most of the things your mother had told you about her just weren’t true. No person who liked death and destruction didn’t like to watch death and destruction. Your mother was wrong about her, and you thought about that the entire way to the elevator. 

You waited in the elevator, not sparing a look at the Queen of the Dead for fear that she would already be looking at you. You didn’t want to admit it, but she intimidated you. 

You were on the opposite sides of your own large spectrum. She was in charge of everything dead, the very part of life that you worked tirelessly against. If it wasn’t the air of death and decay that surrounded her, it was the look in her eyes. Half haunted, half… alive. Hades hid so much with her eyes that it was impossible for you to ignore and dig into, just like you used to dig in dirt. And you discovered that the woman truly felt as much as anyone above, maybe even as much as the humans. And that terrified you. It terrified you that the woman that your mother demonized actually had emotions in her heart, had a weakness and a strength. 

Hades became so much more than a story far too quickly for you to grasp. 

  “Cerberus,” she started, and her commanding voice nearly made you jump out of your own godly skin. She continued with barely any pause. “He’s a good dog. He’s just… he will be very overwhelming to see at first.” 

You assumed so. He was the creature that guarded the entrance of the Underworld, which meant that he must have been more horrifying than anything that walked the greens of the earths. You knew he was as dark as midnight and that he had three heads simply from the stories that everyone was told when they were young enough to listen. 

  Natasha strutted out of the elevator, red hair swaying in the wind with her sure steps. You were steps behind, still wincing at the feeling of unfamiliar stone on your bare feet instead of tickling grass. She took you to an iron door, one that looked heavy and sounded even more heavy when she pulled it open after having a handful of keys appear in her hands. She unlocked the door with two of them, and then other locks that you hadn’t even seen turned. 

  “Why did I agree to this, again?” You breathed out as she led you in without a word, and then you were nearly screaming. 

  The creature was huge. He was so tall that he straight up took your breath out of your chest, and your hands shook. He had three heads, indeed, all three with dark red eyes that stirred like storms. Though there were three heads and they were all three scary, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the middle head. He had bared his teeth automatically at the sight of visitors, and he showed off his killer incisors to make it painfully obvious that he was the most vicious of the three. You tried not to take a step back or startle either of them in the silent room. 

  “Stand down,” Natasha commanded, and just like that, all three of the heads were subdued, and the conjoined body laid down on the floor, the middle head resting on the front paws. “You’re going to let my visitor see you.” 

You nodded warily,your wide eyes fixated on the huge thing and your hands shook. “Oh, I’ve seen him, I’ll be alright from here.” 

And you were. For a few weighted moments, you just stared at the thing but looked so out of the ordinary egg that for a moment, you doubted that something like him could be a thing. You watched the thing for minutes, analyzing movements and mannerisms. 

  “Is he alive?” 

The question came from nowhere, and surprisingly, from behind you. You jumped and turned your head to see Natasha leaning on the wall of the very generous cage. Her slender arms were crossed as her eyes were questioning as she waited for your answer, like she had all the time in the world and no intention of repeating herself. 

   “Cerberus?” You squeaked out, and then cleared your throat quietly. No. That was your immediate response, or what you wanted it to be. But before you could say anything, you second guessed yourself. “I… I don’t know.” 

  Natasha’s arm extended as she gestured towards her well known guardian animal. “Feel.” 

  He felt… different. He felt gray, right in between the white light of life and the plain darkness of death. At first glance, he seemed to be floating right in between, placidly and without a care. But, when you dug harder, you realized that he was actually much more in the white than he was in the dark. 

  He was more alive than dead.  

“He’s… alive.” 

“And if he’s alive after hundreds and thousands of years, then anything you can plant can stay that way.” She leaned off of the wall, and you swallowed when she turned her gaze towards you, and like she and her pet were on the same page, all four pairs of eyes in the room were set on you, waiting patiently for your gift to bless their home. “Don’t you agree?”

****

i hope you guys liked this one!! we’re getting into stuff now, so that’s exciting. it came early because i’m kind of in a mood, and i wanted to get a little bit of feedback today! this is gonna be so much fun to write going from here even though i’m already having a blast, and i think you guys might have fun reading it! if you guys liked it, please remember to like and reblog 💕💕💕

taglist:

@teenwonder @saamwilscn @messuhp @username23345 @dontmindmejustreading @bitchuwish @blackxwidowsxwife @anxiousgoldengirl @russianredassassin @dailyavengering @blackluthxr @coxmicbabygirl @alytavzla @deathofmissjackson @1-800-gaygentsofshield @msmarvelsmain

sorry if i forgot to add anyone!!

[creepling]

am i not enough? (quackity x reader) - apocalypse!AU

( 。・_・。)人(。・_・。 ) | part of the @quackisinnit 1k event !

THE PROMPT IS . . . “ AM I NOT ENOUGH ? “

pairing: irl!quackity x genderneutral!reader (apocalypse!AU)

word count: 3,306

summary: the reader and alex become a duo while coming across each others paths during a zombie apocalypse. tensions rise as they set up camp in a warehouse, where alex begins to confess how he feels towards the reader. (angst into fluff <33)

tw: zombie apocalypse, blood (ment), cursing, guns, death, eating.

It had been three months since the fallen of mundane life. Three months of complete abnormality, everything known to be in existence that was worth caring about; completely gone. jobs, currency, education were becoming a historic relic. The world was put back to zero. Instead of cavemen and dinosaurs, the new species of flesh-eating corpse’s roamed in packs and seeked for fresh meat. They may have been slow, but they travelled in numbers and they could smell you from a mile away. I learned that your scent became less of a problem when you didn’t keep hygenic. My stence blended with the earth and blood and the roamers didn’t catch us out as much; so we used that to our advantage.

I only had one companion, his name was Alex. He was absolutely dumbfounded when I discovered him. I raided his abandoned home looking for supplies, and when I had to kill a roamer that vacaded in his bedroom; I found him curled up in a ball under his bed. He told me that he had been hiding the whole month when he realised help was to never come; so his only plan was to hide out until he ran out of supplies. That became a problem when I attempted to take them. We made the mutual agreement that if I was to take the supplies, he would come with me. I refused to stay and hide; that is how you get yourself killed. Thankfully he agreed to come with me, and we have been inseperable ever since. However, our bond is nothing close to a friendship, we just had to stick together to survive.

Alex’s main idea was to find a group, hoping by now someone had turned one of the surbubans into a mini civilization. We had travelled between three cities however and we found no sign of good company. As a duo, we have only killed one human within these three months. A man who tried to kill us at gunpoint in hopes of taking our things, to which we scarsely saved our lives by ducking behind a bar table. With one aimless shoot, I shot my gun and it pierced through the man’s chest. I saved our lives, but the sight of the man’s lifeless eyes still haunts me in my sleep. 

One night, Alex found a two-store warehouse to shelter in while on a supply run. He suggested we camp on the second floor and catch up on our sleep and starvation, since we eventually got ahold of sleeping bags and tinned food. I agreed, but reminded him the stay can’t be perminant. He agreed also, still fixated on the idea of finding a commune.

While I made a fire and cooked food, I obvserved Alex drawing in a notepad. I failed to make out what he was doing so I asked, “What are you drawing?”

“I’m trying to draw a map.” He said to me, “It’s not accurate, but it will give us a rough idea of the roads until we find a map.”

“I didn’t take you as a smart person.” I said, hoping he didn’t think I meant it seriously. It was rare for me to joke in times like these, but when I did, my humour came off dry. Thankfully, my comment made Alex scoff out a chuckle.

“And I didn’t take you for a fighter.” Alex said. Since being with each other for two months, we both naturally adopted different roles that benefitted us. Alex was the navigator, the finder; he seemed to have a good sense of direction and I relied on him to not get lost. He also had a good eye and was always good at finding things such as second-way exits or food hiding in obscure places. For me, my job was a lot more physical. I was a good shoot, I knew how to make a fireplace, or bandage a wound. When things got dirty, I would get lucky and save our asses.

“Your food’s ready.” I said, handing him his warm can of chicken soup and a packet of chips. He thanked me, putting his notebook down and sitting cross-legged beside me. As we ate we sat in silence, the only sounds in the warehouse being our mouths chewing the food. We hadn’t ate in nearly a week. I tried my best to chew my chips before swallowing so I didn’t end up with stomache pain, but the instant flavour shot through my tongue and I instinctly ate them quickly. Alex finished his food within minutes, licking the chip packet and his fingers; scraping every last bit of soup from the can and into his mouth. I reluctantly did the same, feeling a little embarrassed; I have never felt so starved in my life. 

“That was fucking amazing.” Alex sighed out, now heating his hands over the fire. I nodded in agreement, collecting the empty tin cans and keeping them next to our things. They will be handy for traps, tying them with strings and hanging them in the woods while hunting would let us know of intruders. It was the small things like that that has made us survive this long.

“Are you gonna go to sleep now? I could keep watch.” I offered, observing Alex’s bloodshot eyes. If we had mirrors, we would flinch at our reflections. Alex looked rough. He always wore his beanie, which he apparently did even before things got bad. He always had a collective spot of dirt on his nose and cheekbones no matter how clean we were, it’s where it always collected the most. His hands were the most dirty, dirt under his short nails and inbetween his fingers. From the rare occasions we touched hands, I felt the softness of his hands, compared to mine that felt aged and rough. His knuckles were stained with blood. Out of both of us, I was covered in the most blood. When I looked down, my hands had a reddish tint, observing more I could see small cuts on my hands from being idle with my knife when striking roamer’s heads. Without having to see, I knew I had sprays of blood on my face from the amount of times I killed roamers. To think when life was normal we cared so much about our appearence, but now activities like doing makeup, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth seemed so pointless. We were slowly becoming used to primitive life and deep down that scared me. I think it scared Alex too.

“I’m tired as fuck, but I know I won’t sleep.” Alex said in a low tone, looking at his hands full of shame. I nodded my head in understanding, knowing exactly how he was feeling. We hadn’t slept properly in months, instead when one person kept watch, the other just lay down with their eyes closed. We forgot what it was like to dream, or to feel hazy. We were constantly alert.

“Since we have no intention of sleeping. Why don’t we play a game?” Alex said. I cocked my eyebrow up in question. What game could we play that didn’t involve making noise and attracting attention?

“We ask each other 20 questions. Normally if you don’t want to answer a question- you would have to do a dare. But hey, wants the point in hiding nowadays?” Alex said, looking at me contently.

“We should be hiding ourselves more than ever, I think.” I said, adding fuel to the fire to keep it burning. “That way no one knows our weaknesses.”

“So you don’t trust me?” Alex said. His question threw me off. It’s not that I didn’t trust him, but maybe I was unwilling to get to know him. I had already lost the people close to me, and I was still in grieving. I was too afraid to get close with Alex. I always had the thought in the back of my head that one day, I might end up losing him. His intelligence may only get him so far.

“I understand.” Alex said, taking back his question. Seeing the hurt in my eyes, he must have realized what I was thinking. He lost his close ones too. We both lost so much, we had a mutual understanding about that. Yet, I looked at Alex, and he still felt like a mystery to me. He always pulled out jokes, even in times like these. However, in moments when he thought I wasn’t looking, I could see the pain concealed in his face. Sometimes I even heard him cry at night when he thought I was sleeping. Maybe it was about time we opened up to each other, instead of feeling like we need to suffer alone. We could be there for each other not just physically, but emotionally.

“Okay then, since it was your idea, you ask the first question.” I said, hugging my legs to my chest. Alex smiled a little at me, going into thought as he tried to think of a question.

“So, what did you do when life was normal?” He asked first.

I let out a sigh then replied, “I had a very normal life. Lived with my family, did average in school, worked a job to get money. I actually had plans of moving out to the city, I always wanted to go to LA. I never really had aspirations, just wanted to be content.” It sounded boring, but I was happy with my life. I had my ups and downs like everyone else. “What were you like?”

Alex smirked and looked away from me, seeming to become bashful. “I was a twitch streamer.” He said. “And had a Youtube channel. God- it sounds so stupid now that I say it. Like it was all pointless-”

“Were you like- famous?” I asked, trying to conceal a smile.

“Um- I guess you could say that. I had millions of followers.” Alex shook his head, “But I also went to college. I was studying law. I was always staying up late, barely sleeping; both studying and streaming all the time. It took up my whole life, that I just kinda forgot about everything else.”

“Well, you were obviously not famous, because I didn’t know who you were.” I jokingly said, nudging his side. That seemed to make him smile and feel less embarassed.

“So how the hell did you learn how to shoot if you lived such a normal life?” He asked.

“I just learned while doing it. My dad kept a gun.” I admitted, looking at the very same gun I had in the holster wrapped around my thigh. “He would teach me now and then how to use it, but I was never a shooter. The more roamers I shot, the more I got used to it.” Thinking about someone close to me made me chew the inside of my cheek anxiously.

To deflate my melancholy, I asked the next question. “Did you always wear that stupid hat?”

Alex chuckled and rubbed the top of his hat. “Yeah, twenty-four seven. I don’t why, I just find it comfortable. My “fans” would joke that I was bald because I never showed my hair.” He said, “God- saying the word fans sounds fucked up . . .”

“Maybe you’ll bump into one of them.” I said, “Heck- maybe there’s a commune right now dedicated to you, trying to find you and keep you safe.”

Alex laughed again, covering his face with his hands. I laughed alongside him, the first time I genuinely laughed in a good few weeks. Looking at Alex, seeing how I uplifted him, it struck a chord with me. As much as I didn’t like to show it, but he made affects on me that were indescribable. He made me feel just a little more contempt, without him I would probably not be able to cope for this long. We eventually locked eyes with each other, Alex’s gaze being longer than I expected. If it wasn’t for the blood, my face would have exposed the blush forming on my cheeks.

“Have you ever fell in love, (Y/N)?” Alex then asked me, which set me aback. The question was out the blew and I think Alex realised that as he looked away shyly, his gaze fixated on the flames of the fire to avoid my gaze. I still stared at him, almost in amazment, trying to conjuct a reasonable answer.

“I don’t know.” I answered. “I have loved people, yes, but- I don’t think I have been in love. You’re suppose to know when things like that happen, right?”

Alex didn’t answer me, he kept staring at the fire. I found myself admiring his side profile, watching how he slowly bit his lip; concealed in thought. I noticed how the glow of the flames contrasted with the darkness of his eyes, how the light outlined his complexion. When I realized I was staring for too long, I looked away, instead my eyes looked out the warehouse window, my eyes tracing the stars in the night sky. 

“I feel like I have known you forever.” Alex admitted all at once. “It’s only been two months, but I have gotten close to you more than anyone I have in my whole life. It might sound crazy but- I believe we were suppose to come together that day.”

My gaze turned back to Alex when I felt his eyes lay upon me. His stare was soft, something I only seen in passing times. I was able to admire him for the first time since we met. In this moment, in the dead of night, away from danger and suspicion; I could look at him with full sentiment. I didn’t need to admire him when he was less suspecting it, afraid of receiving decline or making things awkward. In this moment I realized, I may have developed feelings more than companionship towards him. That excited me. But also terrified me.

“I feel that way with you, Alex.” I admitted, “But . . .”

I decided to choose my words carefully. This conversation was heading in a direction that made me nervous. The world is falling apart around us, and I couldn’t help but question our motives. We should be focusing on survival, not developing a relationship that could be destroyed at any second. Once we step out this warehouse, our chances of losing our lives become high. I wasn’t prepared to damage my mental state, it was already bad enough. I realized my long pause was making Alex shift nervously, so I looked at him in hopes my words would slip from my mouth.

I caved in, muttering lowly, “We should get some rest.” I got up on my feet and was ready to grab my sleeping bag and make up a place to rest, until I heard Alex get his his feet and say words that made my heart sink.

“Am I not enough?”

When I turned to look at him, the hurt was glistening in his eyes. He gulped dryly and he fumbled with his fingers. My eyes shifted from side to side as I was stuck with my words. I kept stammering, and I rubbed my face in stress, ready to plead my case. Until Alex jumped in.

“Don’t think I’m only saying these things to you because there is no one else, (Y/N). I have been thinking about this for a while, everytime I am left with my thoughts. I am certain I will still have the same feelings if we met when things didn’t go to shit. I don’t just think this because we have been the only people for each other. I really really like you, (Y/N). And because of the way the world is, I never want to lose you. I never want you to feel alone ever again. I not only want to protect you because we’re a team, I want to protect you because the thought of losing you pains me so much.”

For a split second I thought Alex was about to burst into tears. That was when I did something I thought I would never do again, which was pull him into my embrace. I hugged Alex so tight that I heard him gasp, freeze, until he eventually wrapped his arms around me and held me just as tight. My face buried into the crook of his neck, feeling the warmth of his body, his soft hands caressing my back and brushing his thumb down my spine in a soothing manner.

“You are enough, Alex.” I said, my words muffled by his body. I reached my lips to his ear so he could hear my words clearly. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to like me, or be forced to like me just because we were brought together. I was afraid you thought you were stuck with me.”

I anticipated the day that once we meet other life, Alex would slowly fade away and forget who I was. Once he meets other people, we would go our seperate ways. I never knew why the hypothetical idea pained me so much, until now. As Alex pulled away from my embrace, looking me in the eyes in a loving manner that was foreign to me, his hands on my shoulders, I realized why that idea made my heart feel heavy. I never want him to leave me, I want him to always be by my side. Alex’s gaze was enough proof that he wanted the same.

Stimulated by his touch, I was taken aback when I felt his hand cup my cheek. The warmth of his breath breezing against my cheek, I inhaled as if oxygene was nonexistent. I never realized the proximity between us was slowly closing in and when I did my eyes fluttered shut. Alex hesitated for a split second before pressing his soft lips against my own. My neck bent slightly backwards and I shifted my head to the side to deepen into our kiss, my blood-stained hands grabbing the edges of his open jacket and holding him dearly close. The heat of the kiss intermingled with the heat from the fire, my cheeks and ears grew hot. Alex’s hands were surprisingly warm as he reached his hands under my shirt, pressing his fingers and palms on the middle of my back before running his touch down my spine. My breath became shaky and I felt my legs grow heavy under me, my hands cupped the back of his neck to keep myself uplifted, and luckily Alex’s arms held my weight and pressed my body against his. It felt like hours had went by between our lips moving in sync, our tongues grazing our bottom lip’s, our hands moving and resting on different parts of our bodies. His touch felt contagious, his kisses ranging between soft and passionate. I didn’t want to stop, I never wanted to let go. Between kisses I would mutter you are enough, you are enough which made Alex smile against my lips.

That night, everything we had to worry about became last priority. The focus all throughout was each other, making up for the days where affection couldn’t be shown. In the dead of night, there wasn’t a roamer in sight. Instead of hearing narls and groans or screams of pain, there was only the faint sounds of nature. The full moon glistened, as if to be a prediction for the emotions spilling between us. I promised myself from this moment on, as I admired Alex, I would protect him no matter what. I will make sure he always feels safe as long as he is beside me. He will always be enough, if not more.

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