#who needs to cook or be able to shower when you can play darts in the not living room because there isnt one of those either

[ragnars-tooth]

Moved! But we are all #sillay and didn't sort internet sooo whoops. I Am beaming dragon thoughts directly into your brain though

[hotwings0203]

Gilded Cage

A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!

Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes

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At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.

He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.

And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.

He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.

She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.

And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.

God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.

Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.

But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.

Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.

It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.

On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.

Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-

And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.

To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.

Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.

It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.

She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.

But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.

Never like this, though.

Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.

“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.

She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.

As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.

She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.

“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.

Bingo.

“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.

Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.

But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.

She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.

“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.

He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.

Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.

Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.

Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.

“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.

Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.

Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.

She was right.

“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”

She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.

Ah yes, the dreaded feather.

When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.

On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-

She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.

Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.

“Something wrong hummingbird?”

She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:

“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”

“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.

Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.

“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”

Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.

“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”

Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.

“But you have to wear the feather.”

She immediately blanched.

A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.

They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.

Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.

She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.

And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.

Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.

She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.

“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.

Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.

Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.

She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.

It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.

“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”

She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.

“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.

She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.

“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.

It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.

“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.

She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.

“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”

She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.

He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.

She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.

The feather stayed on.

Which brought her back to the present.

Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.

She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.

He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.

Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.

Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.

For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.

Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.

It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.

On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.

And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.

Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.

“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.

“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”

The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.

“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.

“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.

Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.

“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”

All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.

“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.

“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.

Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.

Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-

But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.

He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.

The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.

“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.

“Hawks I-”

“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”

She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-

Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!

But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.

She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.

“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.

“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.

She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.

Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.

Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.

“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.

Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.

They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.

The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.

After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”

It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.

He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.

Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.

He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.

What he saw was beautiful.

A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.

Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.

Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.

“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.

“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.

“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”

“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”

“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.

“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.

I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.

He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.

She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.

As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.

Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.

Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.

True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.

Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 14

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 6689

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

********************************************************************

It had been three weeks since Dabi left and in those three weeks you hadn’t heard a peep from him. True to his word he never called you. Shoto seemed to be getting vague updates from Katsuki but nothing that could settle your nerves.

You threw yourself into working out to distract yourself. You refused to ever be weak again. Every day you got up early and hit the home gym that you built with Dabi’s money in his absence. You were surprised how good it felt to spend his money without his permission. You knew he had enough to go around, but it was almost like payback for him leaving you here without him.

The gym was simple. A treadmill, some free weights, and a punching bag.

The guys took turns coming to check on you. Shoto more than the others, which was fine with you considering he was the only one with the balls to spar with you. You didn’t know if they were scared of you, Dabi, or Katsuki. But whoever it was, they were keeping their hands to themselves. And that’s how you ended up here now pinned underneath Shoto’s knee.

“I told you, stop thinking so hard. Your moves are predictable, I can read your every move before you do it. You need to relax and trust your instincts.”

You shoved him off of you and sat up, putting your elbows on your knees.

“I knew I’d be rusty… but I didn’t think it’d take this long to get back into shape.”

Shoto handed you a water bottle and sat next to you. “Well you’ve always been good, but you’ve also relied on your quirk pretty heavily up until now. You’ll get there, just takes time.”

You sat for a while in silence. That’s another thing you appreciated about Shoto. His ability to find comfort in shared silence. He never forces a conversation or pushes you to talk about things you don’t want to.

“So how long can you stay this time?”

His mismatched eyes met yours with a guilty look. “Honestly I’ve already been here a little too long. My shift starts soon, and I have a long drive.” He sighed as he screwed the cap back onto his water bottle. “Last I heard from Bakugo there wasn’t really much change but they’re both still alive and well. I’m supposed to be hearing from him again sometime in the next few days. So, I should have a better update the next time I see you.”

You followed him to the front door, feeling your heart sink as you went. You hated this part. The part when they left. There wasn’t exactly a schedule, they just came and went when they could. It was incredibly lonely when it was just you and you were already getting anxious thinking about it. “I wish he’d just come home already. I hate being here alone…”

Shoto sighed with his hand on the door. “I can only imagine… I’ll see what I can do about getting you some better company. Maybe we can rework our shifts or something… I don’t know, but we’ll figure something out.” He reached a hand out and gently pressed it to your shoulder, “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone, and for the love of god follow my idiot bothers laws.” His eyes twinkled, “Oh! That reminds me…ware your fucking collar… his words not mine.”

Your eyes bulged. Those where the first words you’d gotten from him since he left. Your fingers darted to your bare neck, “I-It’s charging… the battery doesn’t last forever.”

Shoto chuckled, “Well according to him you haven’t worn it for two days. He interrupted my last call with Bakugo just to tell me.”

“I guess I should have known he’d be watching the stats like the creep his is.” You rolled your eyes and tried to suppress the blush that was threatening to break out across your cheeks. Of course he was watching. Watching the tracker to make sure you were where you were supposed to be. Watching your vitals to makes sure you were staying healthy. Watching your call log to make sure you weren’t doing anything you weren’t supposed to be doing.

For the first time since he left you felt an odd giddy feeling. It reminded you of the feeling you’d get when you were in school and a boy you had a crush on liked one of your pictures on social media. It wasn’t direct interaction, but it was a reminder that he cared.

Shoto gave you a quick hug before leaving, reminding you to lock the door as he went.

As soon as you heard the security system signal that is was on, the empty feeling returned. You were alone again. By yourself. With only your thoughts to keep you company… how awful.

You dragged yourself over to the where your collar was charging and put it back on. Your fingers brushed over the familiar material. A warm feeling started to push through the empty feeling in your stomach as you thought about how Dabi was probably checking on you every chance he got. The least you could do was reassure him that you were okay.

Despite being able to talk again you had decided to keep up with the sign language. It was a good distraction and also something really helpful to know. You learned from Shoto that Izuku had learned sign just in case Katsuki went deaf, and he ended up teaching Shoto. So it seemed it could definitely come in handy down the road.

You also spent a great deal of time watching cooking shows and trying to learn some things.

You were never that great with cooking before, hell you didn’t even really know how to efficiently shop for groceries. You were rarely home, and when you were you were ordering in or letting Katsuki cook for you. But now that you were home alone for days at a time, you decided it was time you learn.

Tonight, you watched a video on how to sign different colors and numbers as you attempted to make rice balls. The chef made it look so easy in the video you watched earlier. But so far you were finding it to be incredibly difficult.

You were trying to take this time alone to improve yourself. Now that he wasn’t here it was easier to see how much you had relied on Dabi. You wanted him to come back to a new and improved you.

You sat down to dinner with your pathetic looking rice balls and fought to push down the empty feeling in your stomach once again. The loneliness killed your appetite, you could feel yourself sinking into a funk. Every day it got harder to convince yourself that eating was important, that getting out of bad even mattered, that working out was worth it.

But then you thought about what Dabi would say if he found out you weren’t taking care of yourself. He’d probably bend you over his knee and spank you for even thinking about skipping a meal.

So even though your depressed brain tried really hard to convince you that you weren’t hungry, you shoved bite after bite into your mouth. He’d be livid if you so much as lost a pound while he was gone.

You thought about the way he loved to worship your body. How he groaned when his hands gripped your hips. How his hands traveled up your thick thighs and around to your ass before giving it a squeeze and… great… now you’re working yourself up.

There had been several times your needs had riled you up to the point where you had tried to take care of them yourself. But no matter what you did or how hard you tried, you hadn’t been able to get yourself off. Your hands were no comparison to Dabi’s.

You let out a frustrated growl as you dropped your plate into the sink.

Once again you had this burn in your core that was spreading and you were already frustrated knowing there was nothing you could do about it. You didn’t even have any toys to help and there was no way you could ask one of the guys to bring you one the next time they came. You flushed at the image of Shoto or Izuku handing you a vibrator.

With the ache between your legs only seeming to grow worse, you skipped to your bedroom, well Dabi’s bedroom, but you guess it was yours now too.

You were sweaty from your workout and was in desperate need of a shower which gave you the perfect idea.

You quickly stripped your clothing and stepped into the hot spray of the shower you quickly washed your hair and body before turning the hot water down a little to a nice room temperature.

With nervous hands you pulled the shower head down from it’s spot and played with the settings. You switched between them until you found one that seemed… promising?

The shower head slowly roamed from your neck to your chest, to your nipple. You sucked in a breath as you closed your eyes and tried to pretend that it was something or rather someone else. Your breathing picked up as the spray slowly moved further down until it reached the spot that was giving you all the trouble.

Suddenly a jolt of pleasure ran through you and you had to put a hand on the wall to keep yourself from falling over. A low moan fell from your lips and you rolled your hips against the pressure. “Oh god. Oh shit. YES!” It had been weeks since you last orgasmed and you could feel everything that had been building coming to a climax… literally.

Your breathing became erratic as you imagined rough callused fingers rubbing your clit while wet, sloppy lips mouthed at you neck. Your head swam with desire as you felt the familiar clenching in your core.

Then out of nowhere you felt your pleasure snap as your first orgasm in weeks washed over you in heavy waves. “FuUuck!” Your legs wobbled and almost buckled underneath you. Your orgasm seemed to go on way longer than any one you’ve had in recent memory. It just kept going and going till the point that you thought you couldn’t breathe.

Your legs crumpled underneath you and you fell as your orgasm finally finished.

After a few minutes you used your foot to turn the water off as your breathing finally started to even out.

Your heart practically leapt out of your throat as your collar started beeping with an incoming call. You answered it immediately in the hopes that it was Dabi.

“H-Hello?”

“Y/N!? Are you okay?”

That voice didn’t belong to Dabi but it was probably the second best option.

“Kats? Y-yeah I’m fine. W-why do you ask?” You sucked in a huge breath to help yourself come back down from your high.

“Dabi said he got an alert that your vitals were at dangerous levels. Apparently, your heartbeat was erratic… You workin out or somethin?”

You blushed and cleared your throat, “Or something.”

There was a brief silence on the other end before you heard a muffled curse. “Fuck, okay so you’re more than good.” You could almost hear the blush in his voice. “Sorry to interrupt… have a good night…”

Before he could hang up you panicked and shouted, “WAIT!”

“… Yeah?”

“How are you guys?” You hated how weak you sounded. How desperate you sounded for any update on their progress.

“We’re alive and making good progress. That’s all I can really say right now.”

“Good okay… hey uh Kats… please be safe. Both of you.”

“We’ll try… I gotta go now. Good night y/n.”

Before you could respond you heard the beeping, indicating that he had hung up.

Groaning you picked yourself up and made your way to the big comfy bed that just felt too big now that it was just you. You pulled one of Dabi’s shirts on that dwarfed you and queued up a movie on the TV.

Sleep didn’t take long to take you and your last thoughts were of how monotonous your life was now. You go to bed, wake up, work out, work on Sign Language, watch cooking shows, cook dinner, rinse repeat.

You just needed something to mix it up.

And your wish would be granted not even two days later when Kirishima showed up at your door with pointy toothed grin. “Hey Y/N! How’s it going? Gone crazy yet?”

“I think I went crazy years ago bud.” You giggled as you stepped to the side to let him in. Instead he just stood there looking at you funny. “So are you coming in or did you just drop by to stare at me and leave?”

“Oh! Right? Hold on… close your eyes! I have a surprise.”

You narrowed your eyes but complied with a sigh. “Kiri I swear if this surprise is a wet willy, I will hypnotize you and make you pee yourself.”

He was quiet as he tiptoed away quickly. Only moments later you heard the pitter patter of him trying and failing to sneak up on you. You knew he was next to you now, but you kept your eyes closed anyways.

“Kiri what are you—”

You shrieked as a wet tongue licked you from your chin to your ear. “WHAT THE FUCK KIRI!”

Your eyes bolted open to see a crying Kiri holding a puppy. He was laughing so hard you were scared he was going to drop the dog.

You reached out and yanked the puppy from him and could immediately feel yourself sinking into its soft fur. “Oh my goodness! Who is this sweat baby?”

You nuzzled into and started rubbing its soft ears.

“He is your new guard dog. Well he’s more of a guard puppy, but you get the point.”

He started to walk back towards his car, “Wait? Are you leaving already?”

He gave you a regretful look, “Yeah sorry princess, I only had time to come drop off your new friend. I have to go pick up my kid from school, but I think I’m coming back soon. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” With a wink he hopped into his car and sped away.

You were only sad for a brief moment before you scurried back inside with your new friend.

You plopped yourself down on the couch with the puppy sitting in your lap. He was a little ball of fur with big ole paws and floppy ears. From what you could tell he might be an Australian Shepheard. “What are we going to call you huh?”

The little furball cocked his head at you and started chewing on your fingers.

“Hmmm what about Buddy? No that’s cliché. Ajax? He was the strongest warrior in all of Greece.” You watched as the “warrior” in question sniffed his own butt. “Hm maybe not. What abouuuuut… Bravo?”

He looked at you and gave the cutest little “woof”

You smiled and scratched behind his ears. “Okay then Bravo it is. Welcome to your new home sweet boy.”

Bravo was exactly what you needed in order to break out of your slump. You could feel your serotonin rise every day as you bonded with him. He was keeping you company and also keeping you very busy. Between poddy training and teaching him basic commands he was a handful. He loved to follow you everywhere you went and nip at your ankles until you paid attention to him.

It was amazing how quickly Bravo was becoming the most important thing in your life. Since Dabi left you had frequent nightmares that often led to anxiety attacks once you woke up. But now you had a fuzzy four-legged friend who not only woke you up when you cried in your sleep but also laid on top of you until you calmed down. You almost laughed thinking about how Dabi would react when he came home. You knew he’d find a way to be jealous of a dog.

Bravo settled into a routine with you and he never let you out of his sight. He really had the potential to be an excellent guard dog. He was extremely smart, picking up new tricks and commands easily. He was perceptive. And most importantly he didn’t hesitate to attack any of the guys, in his cute puppy way, when they came to visit. He was one hundred percent a Mamma’s boy.

Today had been a weird one. It was officially a month since the boys left. You stayed in bed a little longer than usual but you had responsibilities now and Bravo wasn’t going to let you be sad all day. He decided growling and pulling on your blanket was the best way to get you attention.

“Bravo, no. I know you want to play, just let me be sad a little longer, and then we’ll go outside.” You knew he didn’t understand you, but it felt so nice to just talk to him even if he can’t respond.

Bravo continued to jump and bark at you obviously trying to get you play with him. You rolled your eyes as you threw the blanket off of you. “Alright, alright, I get it. Let’s go outside.”

You rolled out of bed and pulled your hair into a bun. It was cold out now, and it even looked like it might snow soon. You used to love the snow, but the older you got the more miserable it sounded. You pulled a pair of sweatpants and a baggie hoodie on and started to drag your feet towards the back door. “You couldn’t let me wallow for even a couple hours huh?”

You slid the sliding glass door open and Bravo took off into the backyard.

The sky was a dark and depressing shade of grey. You could see your breath escaping you and it made you shiver. “Okay Bruno let’s make this quick! It’s fucking cold…” You shoved your hands in your pockets as Bravo sprinted from one side of the yard to another before stopping to sniff a spot on the fence to pee. “Good boy Bravo… let’s go in now. Eat some breakfast, how does that sound?”

Snow started to fall and before long you could feel it soaking through your hoodie. “BRAVO! You little shit, come on it’s cold!”

He ran towards you like he was going to listen before turning at the last second and running off to the side. You groaned. You loved the dog, but it was times like this that reminded you how frustrating taking care of another living thing could be.

You took a couple steps towards him and he just stood there wagging his goofy little tale. You leapt towards him just for him to run off again in the other direction. “I swear Bravo, if you love me at all you will come to me right now!”

You tip toed towards him slowly, “Come on dude. It’s too cold.” You were so close now, you just needed to scoop him up. You jumped at him but again he leapt out of the way except this time… your foot slipped on some fresh snow on the concrete surrounding the pool… and in you fell.

The ice-cold water cut through you straight to your bones like a million needles. You gasped which was a huge mistake as you sucked in water into your lungs. Now the panic was setting in. The last time you were in this pool you drowned. And this time there was no Dabi to resuscitate you. There was no one here. You could die here, and no one would even know for days.

No, no, no, this was not the time to have a panic attack. You had to think. You had to get out of this pool. But you couldn’t, the only thing you could think was how cold you were, how painful the water in your lungs was, how the cold water felt like you were being stabbed. You vision was blacking out, your limbs were becoming numb, you finally started to try and swim, but your muscles were so sluggish. It was agony trying to get your arms and legs to cooperate. Were you going into shock?

You felt yourself sinking and there was nothing you could do. Your baggie hoodie and sweatpants were only getting heavier on your limbs. It was like you had forgotten how to swim. Or like one of those dreams where it doesn’t matter how hard or how long you keep swimming you never make it to the surface. You expected your life to flash before your eyes, but it didn’t. Instead all you had was fear. Fear and regret. And those almost weighed you down more than your soaked clothes.

You have unfinished business. You had a corrupt hero system to dismantle. You had a life to reclaim. You had… people who loved you, and you couldn’t leave them behind just yet.

You pushed as hard as you could now. You refused to give up. Just before you blacked out your head broke the surface. You struggled to stay afloat as you managed to get yourself to the ladder. You gripped it with all your determination. Your breathing was getting shallow but you didn’t know if it was the panic or the cold.

You screamed as you tried to pull yourself out of the pool. It hurt so bad. Your muscles sched and it was almost like they stopped working all together. You could hear Bravo barking as he paced the side of the pool. As soon as you got your upper body on the concrete Bravo took your sleeve in his mouth and tugged. It wasn’t enough to pull you out on his own, but it definitely helped.

Your body was wracked with shivers. You were shivering so hard it hurt. Your collar was beeping but you couldn’t bring your fingers up to push the button to answer. You were literally frozen… from the cold, from the fear.

The beeping just continued, and tears flowed down your cheeks. All you had to do was move your hands, you just needed to push the button, and you could answer, you could ask for help. You knew Dabi had to have been alerted that you were in danger by now. Someone had to be coming for you.

Bravo laid on top of you licking your face as you lost your mind. The beeping from your collar kept going, and you don’t know what possessed you, it must have been one last surge of adrenaline, your bodies last effort to save yourself. But your fingers crawled towards your collard and clicked the button.

“Y/N! Thank god! I’ve been calling! Are you okay?” It was Kats again. You were quiet for a while as you tried to cough up some water. “Y/n? Are you okay? Or is this another… false alarm?”

You sniffled, “I-I-I F-Fe-Fe-ll I-In T-The-Pool.”

“Uhm Okay? Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”

A sob left you, “No! I-I’m Not O-Okay. I-I”

There was a muffled sound on the other end of the call, "Y/n, baby I need you to breathe. I know you’re scared. Can you get inside?”

“Dabi?” His voice filled you with the warmth you desperately needed, but it wasn’t enough to get your body moving. “No. I-Its t-too C-Cold. I-I-“

“Stop talking! Conserve your warmth. Shoto’s already on his way. He’ll be there soon baby. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until he gets there, but I need you to stay awake. Can you do that?”

Bravo curled up next to your neck and nuzzled into you while whining.

You don’t remember passing out. But when you woke up you felt like you were in an oven.

Your eyes slowly opened to find that you were under several blankets with Shoto sitting next to you with his hand on your forehead. “She’s still asleep… but I’m worried she’s getting sick. I’m pretty sure she has a fever.” He was on the phone with someone, “I keep going back and forth from trying to warm her up to cooling her down… Well what do you want me to do I’m not a doctor… Do you know anyone we can trust?” Whoever he was talking too was obviously not happy. “How do you suppose we do that?”

Your eyes closed and sleep claimed you once more. You tried to stay awake, but it seemed impossible. You didn’t even dream, you were just sucked into the black abyss.

The next time you woke up there was a cloth on your forehead and two voices whispering by the door.

“She probably needs an IV at this point. She’s been in bed for three days and she hasn’t eaten anything. Shoto this is more than just a cold. She’s really sick.”

You knew that voice belonged to Izuku. He sounded stressed out. Had he really said there days. There’s no way you had been sleeping that long.

“I agree, but where would we get one? Do you know how to set one up? No? Because neither do I. I swear all of you are crazy. First Dabi rips me a new asshole over the phone about how I was supposed to keep her safe, then Bakugo gives me shit for not being able to find her a doctor, and now you. I’m doing my best!”

You wanted to sit up and tell him you were fine. But you couldn’t because once again sleep was calling you back. The black abyss sucked you back in.

The next time you woke you felt slightly better, your head definitely hurt a little less.

“I can’t believe you idiots where hiding this from me? Did you not trust me, or did you just think you could dismantle the entire system on your own?”

When the fuck did Aizawa get here?

“You’ve been retired for years… we didn’t want to drag you into this.”

A brief silence passed, and it sounded like he was standing up from a chair, “Well I’m glad you did. She was in rough shape. The IV will help. Let me know if you need anything else. And I mean anything. Like you said… I’m retired now so I have a lot of free time.”

You managed to open your eyes, but had to squint at the bright light. “Was that Sensei?” Your voice sounded rough and foreign, but it was unmistakably yours.

Shoto’s mismatched eyes filled your vision, “Oh thank god you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

You tried to clear your throat but if felt like sandpaper, “Like shit…”

He climbed into bed next to you, “When I found you, you had hypothermia. I warmed you up but then you got really sick. I finally caved and had to call Aizawa. I don’t know how he knows how to set up an IV or how he even got his hands on all this medicine and medical equipment. But I’m not going to question it either.”

You leaned on him. “That was nice of him…” Your muscles still ached, and you you’re your skin was so sensitive. You just wanted to pass out again and wake up when all of this was over. “Where’s Bravo?”

At the sound of his name you felt a weight near your feet shift. He got up and made his way to you putting his head on your chest. His big fuzzy head was making you all warm and cozy. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

“Y/n no, come on I need you to eat something. Seriously, it’s one of your laws, you have to eat, so you need to stay awake.”

You hugged your blanket to you. “I’ll eat when I wake up… promise.”

This time when you slept you had dreams waiting for you. They were all weird and generally involved your time at UA. You dreamt of sports festivals, hanging out with your friends, and training with Sensei. But for once you didn’t have a nightmare. Which was a blessing.

“Wake up… you need to eat something… open your eyes baby.”

You stirred and found that you were laying on top of something, or rather someone. A hand was wrapped tightly around your waist while the other was brushing your hair out of your face.

Your sleepy brain was desperately trying to figure out if you were still sleeping because this had to be a dream.

“Are you really here?”

A kiss was placed on your forehead, “Yes baby, I’m really here. And I really need you to eat something so you can get better.”

His words had your stomach growling, making your groan.

Your eyes opened to find his blue ones staring back at you. The amount of concern in them was startling. “I must look like shit if you’re looking at me like that.”

Dabi didn’t so much as crack a smile at your humorless joke. “Well by law I can’t lie to you… so yeah. You’ve definitely looked better.” His thumb brushed your cheek, “Nothing that can’t be fixed with a shower and a good meal though.”

He helped you sit up and fluffed some pillows behind you. “You don’t have to do all this. I’m feeling better now. I can do it myself—”

Dabi cut you off with a glare. “Does it look like I care. I’m sure you could take care of yourself, but when will you accept the fact that you don’t have to anymore. Stupid girl.”

He reached next to him and picked up a bowl of soup. “This will be easy enough on your stomach. You are going to eat every last bite, and then we are going to take a shower.”

He didn’t leave anything up for debate. It was a demand. “We?”

“Yes we. You’re not leaving my sight for the foreseeable future.” He held a spoon full of soup up to your mouth. You wanted to protest that you could at least feed yourself but quickly thought better when you saw the look he was giving you. He wasn’t to be challenged or questioned.

So, you accepted it and swallowed, your eyes never leaving his. You continued on like that until the spoon scraped the last bit of soup from the bowl. You could see the tension in Dabi’s clenched jaw. He was upset, possibly even mad.

Your eyes averted to your lap, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? What do you have to be sorry about?”

You played with hem of your shirt. Trying to look anywhere but at those intense blue eyes. “I fucked up. I was careless and I… I fell into the pool.” Your fists clenched, “It wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t so fucking weak. I panicked, and it put me in danger. I’m sorry.”

His fingers intertwined with yours and pulled them to his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for, and you are most definitely not weak.” He kissed the tip of your nose, “Look at me please.”

It was so rare that he said please. It sent butterflies through your stomach. You raised your eyes to his once more, but this time they were much softer. “Your panic is totally understandable. If anything, it’s my fault because I’m the reason you have fucking PTSD.” He pressed his forehead to yours, “I feel like no matter how hard I try, I just end up hurting you. Even when I’m not here, my actions still have consequences.”

“Well you know what I think? I think I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. I think you have saved me in so many ways, and you have been there when it matters most. Like right now.” You tucked yourself under his chin and hugged him until you felt the tension bleed from him as he relaxed into your hold.

You felt his chest rise and fall as you both just sat there holding each other.

Finally, he pulled back and sighed, “Okay as nice as it feels to hold you again… you kinda stink… can we go shower now?”

You frowned, “Hey! I’ve been sick. It’s not like I could bathe myself. Did you want Shoto to do it for me?”

He growled and threw you over his shoulder. “You’re lucky. If I wasn’t worried about nursing your sick ass back to health, that comment would have gotten your ass in trouble.”

It wasn’t until Dabi was stripping you down in the bathroom that you remembered Bravo. “Hey! Where’s Bravo?”

Dabi froze, “Who the fuck is Bravo?”

You rolled your eyes, “My dog asshole. Bravo. Where is he?”

He growled, “That little shit wouldn’t let me near you, so I threw him out.”

You pushed his hands away from you, “Excuse me… You WHAT? It’s cold outside. Go bring him inside right now!”

He grabbed your flailing hands and held them down at your sides. “I said I threw him out, not outside. If I had to guess the little runt is probably sitting outside the door to the bedroom, waiting to sink his teeth into my ankles the second I open the door. Relax.”

He let go of your hands and continued to undress you, and then himself. “You be nice to him. That little ankle biter is my new best friend.”

“Hmmm I don’t think so.” His arms wrapped around your now naked body. He picked you up like you weighed absolutely nothing and walked you over to the shower. “I think I’m your best friend.”

You smirked as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Oh you think so huh? So we’re friends now? That seems like a demotion to me…” You kissed his chest before pulling away. “Last time I checked friends don’t shower together… so I guess I’ll just get out and wait my turn—”

“Don’t you dare step out of this shower.” His fingers dug into your hips. “I haven’t seen you in a month, and I had to come home to find you sick and skin and bones.” He leaned in and you could feel his breath on the shell of your ear, “You are mine. I don’t think you truly understand what that means.” He kissed the side of your head, “You are my best friend.” He kissed your forehead, “My responsibility.” He kissed your cheek, “My confidant.” He kissed the tip of your nose, “My lover.” He kissed you jaw. “My partner.” His lips hovered over yours for a brief moment, “My everything.”

His lips smashed onto yours and you could feel all of your little puzzle pieces fit together again. The emptiness you had felt the past month evaporated. You felt whole once more.

There wasn’t anything overly sexual about this kiss. For the first time since you’ve known him, this was the first time Dabi had ever kissed you just to kiss you. And so you let him. You just stood under the water with him and kissed until you started to get lightheaded.

He must have felt your shift because he pulled away from the kiss and pulled you to lean on him. Without another word, he ran a washcloth over your skin and cleaned you up.

You remembered back to the days he’d help you bathe when you couldn’t walk. He’s taken such good care of you without asking for anything in return. So much as changed in the past few months, but there was something about this moment that felt permanent. Like no matter what happens Dabi will always be there to clean you up afterwards.

Dabi could feel the stress and the worry that had piled up over the last month melt away with every rise and fall of your chest. You were safe, you were okay, you were alive, you were in his arms.

Something almost broke in him when he heard the fear in your voice that day. When Bakugo called you after you fell in the pool. He had never felt so fucking helpless. He had a constant eye on your vitals after that. Calling his brother every single time there was even a tiny change. He’d never tell you this, but for a brief moment when Shoto couldn’t get your temperature down he panicked. He couldn’t lose you. Somewhere deep down he knew it was irrational to think you were going to die. But he couldn’t help it. You were sick, and only getting worse and he was thousands of miles away.

There was a constant nagging at the bag of his head of what if he didn’t get back in time. What if he didn’t get to say goodbye. What if… what if…

No. He’s fine now. You’re fine now. He had freaked out for no reason. You’re here, you’re safe, you’re alive, you’re his.

You had eaten the soup, showered, and taken your medication without even a hint of protest. You were being such a good girl for him. Doing everything he asked, never leaving his side.

It was obvious you missed him, and for some reason that made him feel… pride.

Now he had you curled up with him on the couch eating ice cream as you showed him all the things you had trained Bravo to do. You had a glint in your eyes as you commanded the furball to sit, lay down, roll over, and whatever the fuck else you had taught it.

Dabi had this weird feeling settle over him. Sitting here with you in his lap, as you ate ice cream and played with your dog. It felt like you had become… a family.

Family… was never a word that had inspired positive feelings for him. He had terrible memories of his old home life. He had a few fond memories of his siblings, maybe even some of his mother. But everything was overshadowed by the hell his father put him through.

But now he could feel that frozen heart of his, start to thaw out. He still struggles convincing himself that he doesn’t deserve you, and sometimes he still thinks you might be better off with Bakugo. But for now, you were his, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

His hand snaked down and spread out over your stomach and his chin rested on your shoulder. He watched Bravo hop into your lap and had to admit he was a little jealous of the little guy.

“Aw who’s a good boy? Who’s mommy’s good boy?” You squished Bravos cheeks together and kissed his nose.

“Okay enough with the dog. You’ve been loving on the dog since I got home. It’s my turn.”

You scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you feel threatened by a puppy.”

He flipped you over so you were chest to chest with him laying on top of you, caging you to the couch. “Of course I’m not threatened… but I’ve been gone a while and the mutts hogging all the attention.”

You giggled as he nuzzled into your neck demanding that you love him. “I can’t believe big, bad, who’s your daddy, Dabi is jealous of a little puppy.”

Your hands moved, one to his hair and the other snaked under his shirt and scratched his back. He hummed as his lips pressed a quick peck to your jaw. “I missed you…”

Your hands continued to trace patterns up and down his back. “I know. I missed you too.”

His breathing started to slow and he squeezed you closer to him. He started mumbling things as he slipped into the first peaceful sleep he’s had since he left.

“What was that? Dabi you’re mumbling honey.”

He let out a huge sigh and mumbled again only this time slightly louder, “Said ‘m gonna putta baby in you.”

*************

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn't your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi @sarahschance

[imagines-oneshots-galore]

For Science

A/N: Hello all, it’s been a hot fucking minute. Some things have changed in how I write/ When i write/ etc. So I have no idea when I’ll get the time to write. Which brings me to the reason for this fic. I started watching the originals, and was immediately obsessed. Personally, I’m an Elijah girl, but this popped into my head and I couldn’t get it out fast enough. Wrote this in two hours 😅 Hope it’s okay! It was my first time writing for the Mikaelsons.

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 1,587

Summary: It’s the Fourth of July, Klaus isn’t home, Rebekah is oddly silent and Elijah, Hayley and Y/N decide to conduct a scientific experiment.

Warnings: Some saucy implications, swearing, Klaus, innuendos

AO3

Masterlist

Rebekah was up to something, a notion they could all agree on. Elijah, Hayley and Y/N sat on the couch in the living room of the Mansion, not hearing a sound despite knowing she was home. The one person who wasn’t present, was Klaus.

Thus, Rebekah was definitely up to something, but what it could be?

Lots of possibilities, with many different levels of peril, all designed specifically for one Niklaus Mikaelson. They knew they should probably get involved, especially Y/N, whose very boyfriend was the one at risk. But they also knew the outcome would be spectacular, so they all silently decided to do nothing. For now, Y/N would continue to write on her computer, and Hayley and Elijah would continue reading the same book together.

It may be a national holiday, but they had other things that required their attention at the moment.

A loud crash came from above them, followed by a curse only heard by the ones with supernatural hearing. They all looked up to the ceiling, right where they knew that Klaus and Y/N’s room was located. Simultaneously, they looked back to each other, one more silent conversation later, and they returned to their activities.

Hayley felt a buzz against her hip, and she knew it was Elijah’s. She reached between them to grab the phone, opening the notification.

“Klaus just texted saying he was on his way, based on the colorful vocabulary, I’d say the negotiation with Marcel didn’t go as planned,” Hayley said quietly to the group, not loud enough for Rebekah to hear as she showed the text to Elijah.

“He said he’ll be here in a few minutes. I wonder, should we tell her of her expedited deadline?” He muttered, thumbs poised working as he replied to his brother.

“Hell no,” Y/N laughed, and soon as it happened, the three paused, making sure Rebekah wasn’t listening into the conversation now. When nothing was heard yet, they all let out a collective breath.

“I want to see this play out, without interference” She said, softer this time as a wicked smirk came upon all of their faces.

“A scientific experiment, if you will,” Hayley said, suppressing the urge to laugh.

“Yes, for science.” Elijah said, and without another word, they all resumed what they were doing moments ago.

As promised, minutes later, Hayley and Elijah heard the faint hum of Niklaus’s vehicle. Apparently, Rebekah did as well, judging by the way they all heard another curse, followed by a frantic shuffling, and then she ran down the stairs and into the foyer.

She was slightly out of breath, and her eyes looked wild. The most damning piece of evidence was the lone feather sitting in her hair.

It didn’t take a conversation to know they would keep that information to themselves. Letting the cards fall where they may, in the name of knowledge. Rebekah smoothed out her shirt, letting out a breath as she walked over to sit next to Y/N on the adjoining couch. She picked up a random book as the car drew closer.

“I hope that I can trust you all to agree that I was here the whole time,” Rebekah said sweetly, an underlying threat laced in her words as she kept her gaze on the book.

“As long as my room isn’t destroyed,” Y/N said just as sweetly, and Rebekah paled slightly. Y/N may still be human, but she was still able to make Rebekah gulp.

“Rebekah…” She began to warn, right as they heard Klaus make it to the driveway. Only moments now.

“I will fix it myself but please say nothing,” She whispered, speaking fast, pleadingly, and before Y/N could agree or deny, Klaus sped into the mansion. His posture was tense, and his brow was furrowed. They all knew Hayley’s suspicion was correct.

“Marcellus Gerard is a conniving twit and I will be glad when we finally dethrone the treacherous bastard,” He huffed, as his gaze shifted to his girlfriend, and he softened in front of their eyes. He plopped down behind her, pulling her body closer to his chest. His hands traced down her arms as he whispered loud enough for only her to hear. Not that any of them would want to hear whatever it was. Based on their facial expressions, it wasn’t hard to guess what was being said.

“I rather think a long relaxing wash in my multi-headed shower sounds rather spectacular before the upcoming night of festivities” Klaus grinned into her skin. She shivered as she felt his warm breath on her neck, and she began to nod her head. But then she opened her eyes and gazed back upon Rebekah, with the damn feather in her hair.

She quickly thought of an excuse.

“I’ll be up in a moment, I have a couple more things I need to write down before I forget them.” She said, a little breathy. Both at the thought of what was promised, and her being put on the spot. Then another thought crossed her mind, as Klaus nodded, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

If she didn’t say anything, she would surely not get to experience whatever Klaus was cooking up in his gorgeous head. But if she told him. He might forgive Rebekah’s attempted prank in favor of private time with his girlfriend. She locked eyes with Rebekah, and saw that she knew what Y/N had on the line.

After a tense millisecond, Y/N rolled her eyes, and let Klaus get up without another word. Rebekah breathed out imperceptibly, and Hayley rested her mouth against Elijah’s shoulder to conceal her smile.

Right before he left, Klaus turned and looked at Rebekah.

“There’s a feather in your hair sister,” He said, before turning back around, as Rebekah frantically pulled the feather from her blonde curls.

Klaus finally left with a pleased smile on his face, and suddenly they all felt a bit guilty.

Only for a moment though, he had staked and tortured (except for Y/N and Hayley of course, though Hayley was not immune to his taunts and quips) them many times over the centuries.

“Thanks for telling me,” She growled quietly, and Elijah casually looked up at his sister.

“For the results to be as accurate as possible, we could not interfere” He said matter of factly, as Hayley nearly snorted, her hand gripping his button up shirt. He reached up to grab hers, and brought it to his lips.

Before Rebekah had the chance to ask what the hell he was talking about, they collectively heard Klaus open his door, and then a mechanical grinding. Something that sounded like a liquid fell to the floor as Klaus cried out in clear surprise. Moments later, and a loud wooshing sound was heard.

It was silent for a few moments, and everyone waited in bated breaths for what was to come next.

“REBEKAHHH!” Klaus screamed dramatically, and before the name was even finished, she was out of the door, running away like her life depended on it. Probably because it did.

The group busted out laughing, and Hayley and Y/N looked to each other. Another wooshing sound and there he was.

Covered in thick chocolate syrup and a shit ton of feathers stood a murderous Klaus Mikaelson. Even the stoic Elijah couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips at the clever prank.

“First, Marcellus turns down a perfectly good exchange of power, then my sister proverbially tars and feathers me, and now I begin to realize that my sweet Y/N let her devoted boyfriend walk right into a trap,” He said, continuing the dramatics as always.

“Happy American Independence Day brother” Elijah sighed, as fireworks started up outside. Hayley turned excitedly to the window, and his gaze turned to her, adoration clear on his face. Without another word, he stood up, Hayley cradled in his arms as she yelped at the sudden movement.

“If you’ll excuse us, I will be going to take my partner to watch the fireworks,” And he ran out of the room before Klaus had the chance to argue, Hayley’s giggle echoing in the wind.

Klaus huffed indignantly, getting himself all worked up again. Y/N lifted the laptop from her lap, setting it to the side so she could make her way to her whining boyfriend.

“I’m going to find Rebekah, and when I do I’ll…” He ranted, Y/N wrapping her arms around his neck, not caring about the sticky transfer of chocolate sauce and feathers onto her clothes. His arms wound around her waist as she quietly interrupted his threats.

“Pretend to laugh it off, to lull her into a false sense of security. Then you’ll come back to me to plan your revenge,” Her lips ghosted over the skin of his neck as she spoke, before her tongue darted up to lick a bit of the dark syrup.

“For now, I promised you a nice long shower,” She said as she pulled away, and met his signature smirk.

“You are truly wicked my dear,” He all but growled, pulling her harder against his body as she giggled. “I believe you are correct, I will most definitely be needing your assistance, love,” And as soon as the words left his lips, he picked her up and ran them to the washroom, the need for revenge forgotten for now.

A solid day's work in the name of Science.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 7

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,480

Warnings: none

A/N: This is long overdue, sorry - hopefully it’s worth it. It’s also incredibly long... idek anymore. I want to thank you all for your patience and support. It means a lot to me.

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

You grumbled into your pillow when you heard your phone buzz on the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, you lifted your phone and squinted to read the neon numbers showing on the screen.

7:12 a.m.

You had an email notification, nothing important, but it somehow managed to come through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ feature. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so you got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen.  

A smile curled up your lips when you saw the leftovers from your made-up holiday. There were a few cookies and muffins in a plate, a large bowl of cereals, and two dirty milkshake glasses on the counter.

It had been a fun and relaxing couple of days. You ate, talked, played board games, and watched movies in your fanciest loungewear attire. Bucky sought your touch more than usual and it left you a little confused. Every time he touched you, the line between feelings of friendship and feelings of love became blurred.

Bucky was an early riser, always up before you, dressed in his usual khakis and long sleeved Henley shirts with his hair slightly tousled. He looked effortlessly sexy and always had a warm smile for you even though you looked like a hot mess in your mismatched pyjamas, staggering into the kitchen, blindly following the smell of food cooking on the stove.

Today, the kitchen was silent. Bucky was probably still asleep, so you decided to cook breakfast. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d catch him in his night clothes.

Wasting no time, you made a beeline for the coffee machine. You filled the water tank and measured fresh grounds into the filter, but your task was interrupted when you heard groans coming from somewhere nearby. You soon figured out that the sounds were coming from the living room.

Curious, you silently made your way toward the sound. The shades were up, and you could see the midnight blue sky fading into pastel hues of yellow and pink with the approaching dawn. Under any other circumstances, you would have been completely enraptured by its beauty, but something else caught your attention.

Bucky was standing upside down with his head on a yoga mat. His eyes were closed and his features were set in an expression of serious concentration. You half hid behind the wall and observed him.

You were impressed, his headstand was perfectly vertical and he was doing it without hand support, meaning that he was supporting his entire weight on his neck. He slowly lowered one toe back down, then the other, before he rested his forearm on the mat and lifted his butt toward the ceiling, his body forming a perfect inverted V.

“You’re up already,” he asked, sitting back on his haunches. “I can hear you breathing behind that wall.”

Busted...

You peeked out into the living room and cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but that was sooo impressive.” You walked into the room and perched yourself on the arm of the sofa, facing Bucky who was kneeling at your feet. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, his cheeks red from exertion and bashfulness. “Practice. Yoga’s good for building strength.”

He looked up at you with a boyish smile, his hair damp with perspiration. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, rolling too close to his eyes and making him squint.

His pants left little to the imagination, the fabric stretched across his powerful thighs, and his sleeveless shirt clung to his drenched chest, outlining his muscles. Your eyes darted to his left shoulder where his stump was visible.

Despite living with him for over two months, you had never seen him in one of those sleeveless shirts before, though you couldn’t blame him since it was the middle of winter and you hadn’t been wearing any either. It was warm inside the apartment but not enough to walk around bare-armed.

“It’s easier to do yoga when the sleeve isn’t slapping me in the face every five seconds,” Bucky said, looking at his stump. “But I can cover it up if you prefer.”

“No! Of course not,” you rushed to say. “I’m sorry. That was really rude.”

“You were just looking, it’s only natural,” he said. “People are curious. Staring... well, staring is different.” His frown smoothed away and he turned to you with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

You smiled down at him. “Starving.”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll start breakfast.”

“Actually, I was about to start cooking before I got distracted.” Bucky looked away, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “But I think we have plenty of food left over from last night.”

“We’re not eating cookies for breakfast,” he said. “We’ll save them for later. Right now we need something healthy.” He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet and ran upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You shook your head at his antics and returned to the kitchen to finish making coffee. After all he’d done for you, it was the least you could do. You knew Bucky liked cooking –and he was damn good at it- but sometimes you wondered if this was a fair arrangement.

He had given you a place to stay, money, food to eat, your own artist’s studio, and you had given him... nothing. Admittedly, you knew that your presence calmed him, comforted him. You gave him the emotional support he desperately needed and it was important, but he could also have adopted a pet.

Too tired for coffee or tea, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, hoping it would wake you up. It worked but your self-deprecating thoughts were still playing havoc in your mind.

You were fixing Bucky’s coffee when he came back downstairs after his shower, and you were pleasantly surprised to find him wearing a clean sleeveless shirt. You met his eyes and found that he was watching you intently. You offered him a smile and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Looking good, James.”

He looked down at his feet with a bashful smile as he crossed the room slowly. You observed him in silence while he prepared breakfast for the two of you. It was a simple breakfast bowl with yogurt, granola, fresh fruits and honey but he somehow made it look like a gourmet dish.

“There you go, angel,” he said, setting your bowl in front of you. “What are you going to do today?”

You took a slice of kiwi and dipped in yogurt. “I think I’m going to paint. You?”

Bucky licked his spoon and you stared at it longingly before you quickly averted your eyes. No, you couldn’t be jealous of a goddamn spoon. Catch yourself on.

“I have an idea for a new book,” he said, running his tongue along his teeth to clean them before he spoke again. “I had a meeting with my agent last week. It went well, my old publisher really wants to work with me again. I’m signing my contract this afternoon.”

“Bucky!” you squealed after swallowing your mouthful of yogurt a little too fast. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” he said, staring into nothing with wide eyes. “I’m nervous, scared and excited at the same time. It’s strange, y’know, all these feelings mixed together. It’s a bit overwhelming and I haven’t even started yet.”

“Don’t think too much,” you said. “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling.

You scraped your spoon around the bowl and licked it clean. “What’s it about? Is it a novel? Can I be in it?”

Bucky chuckled to himself and you figured that every single writer had friends who begged them to appear in their books. You couldn’t help it, the idea of living forever as ink on a page was too tempting.

“It’s not a novel,” he said. “It’s the third instalment of my series. The style is a little hard to explain but this is what I like to say: self-help book meets Bridget Jones’ Diary.”

“I tried to look you up but I couldn’t find anything written by a James Barnes or a Bucky Barnes.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you a fraud? Or are you using a pen name?”

He pretended to think about it. “I’m a fraud.”

“I knew it,” you mock-sighed.

Bucky took your bowl and placed it in the sink along with his. When he started cleaning them, you joined him and took a dish towel.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he spoke after a moment.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

You knew he wasn’t going to tell you what his pen name was, not now at least. His books were a reflection of his struggles, his success, and his fears, and you could understand why he preferred to keep you in the dark for now.

The people who read his books didn’t know him, they were just anonymous faces in a crowd but you were real. You were his friend, his new friend, and your opinion mattered.

“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve published my last book. My agent said that people haven’t forgotten about me but I still have to,” he made air quotes with his fingers, “’show my face’, just to remind everyone that I’m still writing.” He sighed.

“There’s a charity event next month at the museum of Natural History,” he continued. “It’s a huge event, a lot of important people will be there, including some of the most famous gallerists and curators in the country. You’re allowed to say no but,” he paused and turned to look at you, “do you want to come with me?”

You pressed your lips together while you mulled this over. There was no doubt in your mind that it was a great opportunity, one that you would have never had without Bucky, and you knew you had to say yes. But this was your least favourite part of being an artist.

You didn’t know how to sell yourself and you always felt like an arrogant asshat when you spoke about your paintings, even though you had every right to be proud of your work.

You had managed to persuade yourself that this new life would last forever. Eat, laugh, paint, repeat forever. But it wasn’t real. You had to put yourself out there, even if it made you uncomfortable because painting was only half your job.

Something else bothered you. You didn’t want to be the poor, struggling artist who took advantage of a charity event to make herself known. It seemed wrong and hypocritical.

You voiced your concerns to Bucky who looked at you with a pained expression.

“Yes, it’s a fundraiser but I can assure you that everyone at the party will be talking business and exchanging business cards,” he said. “And they’ll compensate with a huge donation to clear their guilty conscience. Is it false philanthropy? Absolutely, and I’m ashamed to say I’m one of them. You’re not taking advantage of a good cause, we are.”

“You’re nothing like them,” you said. “You’re kind and selfless, you’re a good person.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, angel,” he said with a tight smile.

When you opened your mouth to protest, he leaned forward and cupped the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, ending the conversation. He had never done that before and you froze, feeling equal parts confused, incredulous and appreciated.

He pulled back and wiped down the sink with the sponge, acting like kissing you so sweetly was something completely normal, like he was unbothered. Meanwhile you just stood there wondering if you would ever be able to breathe normally again.

You pressed your lips together hard and tried to gather your thoughts but your mind was reeling. You were about to leave the room when your eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen counter.

The first letter was a cheesy view of the Tower Bridge, the words ‘Greetings from London’ written in bold cursive letters across the postcard.

You only knew one person who still sent postcards.

Wanda.

“What’s this?” you asked, nodding toward the stack of mail.

Confused, Bucky looked to you then followed your line of sight and saw the mail. “Oh, Natasha dropped these off last night. She wanted to see you but you were already asleep.”

You nodded distractedly while you picked up the postcard. The sight of it filled you with anxiety. Your sister didn’t’ send these postcards often, but every time you received one it reminded you that things were different now. Gone was the happy and supportive family you used to cherish.  

Your breath caught in your throat as you read Wanda’s hastily written words.

I’m coming home.

She was coming home. A wave of nausea ran through you and your breathing came shallow and fast.

“Wow, wow, wow.” You felt Bucky’s hand at our waist, steering you toward a chair, and you realized your legs were giving way under you. “Deep breaths, angel. Look at me. There you go!”

“Sorry,” you said. “See what happens when you don’t let me eat cookies for breakfast?”

Bucky smiled at your poor attempt at humour. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You debated telling him but you weren’t sure how to voice your concerns so you handed him the postcard instead. You had told Bucky about Wanda. She had disappeared after Pietro’s death, sending postcards from time to time as proof that she was still alive and well.

“Your sister is coming home.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen her for six years. She doesn’t know our mom has Alzheimer, she doesn’t know I sold our old childhood home. She keeps sending those postcards there. I gave the new owners Natasha’s address in case they still receive our mail. They’re very nice.” You let out a humourless laugh. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I sold our house, and they could have taken advantage of me but they didn’t. I guess it’s not every day you buy a family house from a 24 year old girl. It probably screams tragic backstory, uh?”

“You did this on your own?”

“Yup.”

Bucky put his hand on your knee and gave you a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

You looked down at his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above your knee. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy.” You paused, then raised your head to look at him. “Living with you makes my life so much easier. I live in my own little bubble where I don’t have to be an adult. I feel like I can finally breathe. And I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me and all you continue to do.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “We help each other. We’re good together.”

“Yes, of course,” you said with a smile. “But we both know it’ll have to end one day. It has to, one way or another. I want to be more independent, start my career and support my family. I don’t want to rely on others anymore. I want to rely on myself.”

“But there’s no rush, angel.”

“I know, but nothing’s gonna change if I stay in my little bubble. I have to do things that make me uncomfortable.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’ll come with you to the fundraiser.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but a smile broke across his face. “That’s great! But what about your sister?”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. She’ll probably go to our old house, realize it’s not ours anymore. If she’s lucky they’ll give her Natasha’s address. I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions but she can’t show up six years later and act like our bond is still intact. I’m not at her beck and call. I’m only responsible for myself and, Bucky, I’m so tired of trying to please everyone. I deserve to live my best life, goddammit.”

“I am so happy to hear you say that,” Bucky said, his smile blinding. “Celebratory cookie?”

“Yes! Two cookies, please,” you replied, out of breath. “I’m slightly freaking out.”

You spent the next couple of weeks planning for the event; painting, taking pictures of your work, posting them on Instagram, searching for gallerists and curators you wanted to work with and cross-checking the attendees.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if Wanda was already in New York and if she was looking for you.

“Check this out!” you exclaimed, shoving a business card in Natasha’s face before you pushed past her to get into her apartment. “It’s official, I’m an artist.”

She laughed as she closed the door, her eyes on the card. “Hi, it’s nice to see you, too,” she deadpanned.

“Sorry, hi.”

“Well, looks like you’re all set. When’s the party?”

“Next week,” you replied, taking a seat on you former bed, her sofa. “I’m a little nervous, but also excited. I don’t know, it’s a strange feeling.”

Natasha pinned your business card onto the fridge using a magnet before she opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of orange juice. She took two glasses from the cupboard and joined you on the sofa.

“But, yeah, I’m ready. I have over two hundred business cards, I know who I want to work with, and I even bought an external battery pack just in case.”

“And what are you going to wear?” Natasha asked before taking a sip of orange juice. You looked at her with wide eyes, panic written all over your face. “You forgot to buy a dress,” she concluded out loud. “Why am I not surprised?”

“With everything going on, I completely forgot I had to... wear clothes.”

“I’m sure James wouldn’t mind seeing you in your birthday suit.” She laughed when you practically shoved her off the sofa. “Come on, I’ll help you look semi-decent.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to go shopping right now. Plus, I blew all my money on business cards.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s freezing outside, I’m not leaving my apartment,” she replied, reaching for her laptop. “You’re going to rent it.”

“Ew,” you made a face.

You remembered the formal wear store where you had rented your prom dress. The place smelled like moth balls and sweat, and the dress had given you a rash. Not a great memory.

“Trust me, I know this is your first but I’m a seasoned veteran. I’ve been to dozens of fundraisers, and I had to wear dozens of designer dresses. Do you even know how much a Saint Laurent evening gown cost? You can’t wear the same dress twice. That’s a big no-no. And it’s not just the dress. You need a clutch, a pair of shoes, jewelry, a coat. You have to rent them.”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

She opened up her web browser and typed in the website address for the dress rental. As she entered your size and budget, it was obvious that she knew her way around the website and you had to admit that it was a lot easier than traditional shopping.

You looked at the collection of dresses, not entirely convinced, when you found it. You instantly knew it was the right one.

You stared longingly at the beautiful wine-red dress, made entirely of velvet. The bodice was cut on the bias, the fabric draping itself elegantly to contour the shape of the model’s upper body. The skirt was long and flowing, and the waist was cinched in with a thin black belt.

You clicked on the second picture and Natasha let out a strangled gasp. The open back was draped at the waist and weighted with a crystal on a golden chain.

The dress gave off 1930s vibes, it was elegant and refined but the back was daring and sexy. It was exactly what you needed. You paired it with a black wool cape, and Natasha offered to let you borrow a pair of shoes, jewellery and a bag.

The dress and coat arrived the next day. The woman who delivered them was kind and polite, she stayed in the kitchen while you tried on the dress. Once you gave the all-clear, she handed you your receipt.

The dress was yours for an entire week.

On the day of the gala, you were a nervous, sweaty mess. Natasha’s clutch was on your nightstand, filled to the brim with business cards. Your hair and makeup were already done. You sat on your bed in your underwear, staring at the dress hanging in your closet.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

You were adjusting the fabric around your cleavage, making sure everything flowed nicely, when you heard Bucky shouting from the kitchen.

“The car will be there in fifteen minutes.”

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands down the sides of your dress, the tickling caress of the velvet calming you almost instantly. You reached for the handle, your heart hammering in your chest, and opened the door.

Bucky was standing at the kitchen island, looking down at his phone. He looked up when he heard the sound of your door opening.

“Hey, are you-” The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he froze. He stood there, staring at you, his eyes roaming your body in a manner that could only be called amazement. “You look-” He shook his head as if he couldn’t find the right word.

You looked down at yourself, grinning. After weeks of seeing you in your big woolly jumpers, pyjamas and painting overalls, you could understand why this was a shock. It was one to you as well.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“Thank you.” He stood a little straighter when he noticed you were checking him out. He wore a dark blue suit with black lapels, a white shirt and a black velvet bow tie. You matched. “You look like a real heartthrob in that suit.”

He laughed and looked away, embarrassed. It was your favourite look on him; when he couldn’t maintain eye contact and his cheeks were slightly red and his nose crunched up a little.

“You’re wearing your prosthetic,” you said, noticing the stiff arm and fake hand.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking at his left arm. “This thing itches like hell, but I don’t blend well in a crowd when I’m not wearing my prosthetic. These people know me, they’ll be looking for me. Let’s not make it too easy for them.”

He finished his sentence with a wink and your entire body threatened to spontaneously combust. Do people still wink? Apparently. You walked over to him and briefly stroked his arm before you walked past him to the bathroom.

It gave him a great view of your bare back and the little crystal nestled just above the small of your back. You didn’t see his reaction but you heard his sharp intake of breath.

You left the bathroom door open while you rummaged through your makeup bag, relief flowing through you when your fingers brushed against your favourite lipstick.

You straightened up and looked at yourself in the mirror. Bucky was leaning against the bathroom door frame, observing you. You uncapped the lipstick and brought it to your lips, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost ready.”

“I’m not worried,” Bucky replied with a mischievous smile. “Please, carry on.”

You rolled your eyes at his sudden smug expression, trying to look unbothered, but you could feel his eyes on you and you willed your hands to stop shaking. Today was not the day to look like Miranda Sings.

“What’s it called?” Bucky asked from the threshold, spellbound.

“No idea, the label has faded,” you said, rubbing your lips together to smudge your lipstick. “It has probably expired by now, my mom gave it to me when I was a kid.” You blotted your lips and tossed the balled tissue into the wastebasket. “She called it ‘Carter Red’.”

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips. “When we were kids, we used to watch her apply her lipstick. We thought she was the most sophisticated woman in the world. When she was done, she’d turn to us and ask ‘Who wants red lips?’ Then we’d leave the house in our matching red lips.”

Bucky entered the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Did your brothers wear red lipstick too?” he asked with a grin.

You laughed. “Pietro did. Scott was more into nail polish.”  

“Do you think I can pull it off?”

You turned to him with a wicked grin and waved your lipstick in his direction. He stood when you took a step closer to him. He seemed to enjoy the playful glint dancing in your eyes. You beckoned him closer like some kind of old witch.

“I’m sure you’d look real cute with lipstick all over your face,” you said, taunting him with your tube of lipstick.

Something in his expression changed, darkened, making you feel hot and cold at the same time. His eyes travelled down your face to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it.

It was your turn to freeze. You parted your lips to speak but nothing came out, you just blinked hard and stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain what that meant. But he never did, and you took a step back.

Did he just...? Did he just try to kiss you? No! No, that’s silly. Why would he want to kiss you? He was just being playful and you simply projected your own desires onto him.

He took a step back too and gave an imperceptible nod. “The car should be here any minute,” he said, smiling. It was a tight smile and you didn’t like it at all. “I’ll let you get ready.”

After he closed the door behind him, you dumped your lipstick back into your makeup bag and took a long look at yourself in the mirror. You looked deflated, miserable. You sighed... the night was off to a great start.

Bucky waited for you while you finished getting ready. You picked up your clutch, slid your feet into a pair of high-heel shoes, and struggled with your cape until Bucky came to your rescue. To your surprise, his smile was genuine again, and it made your heart soar. Maybe you had just misread the situation and he wasn’t upset, offended –or whatever that tight smile was.

The heels were higher than you were used to, but Bucky gave you an arm to hang onto. The sky was already dark when you arrived at the Museum of Natural History. You walked up the stairs and left your coats in the coat-check room before you took a look around the room.

Hundreds of people were milling around the hall, a glass in their hand as they weaved between the jaw-dropping dinosaur skeletons that were on display. You kept your arm linked through Bucky’s and tried not to stare at anyone.  

“Be careful,” Bucky whispered in your ear, making you perk up. “Someone once told me that the exhibits come to life after the sun sets.”

“Remind me to stay away from the Biodiversity Hall,” you chuckled. Then you spotted one of the curators you wanted to work with, you let go of Bucky’s arm and squared your shoulders. “Showtime. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, angel.”

“God, I’m sweating. Is it noticeable?”

Bucky smiled at you. “No, you look perfect.”

You gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I hope I won’t make a fool of myself. I hate small talk.”

As soon as you were gone, someone took your place by Bucky’s side. You grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and made your way over to the curator. You didn’t drink alcohol but the glass made you look like you were part of their little group.

It went horribly wrong; you stuttered when you said your name and everything went downhill after that. While you were talking, he subtly looked around to see if he could find a more interesting person to talk to, which made you stutter even more. Then as you opened your clutch and fished out a card, several others fell at your feet in slow motion.

Between the dress, the glass and the shoes, it was practically impossible to bend over. The curator left and you stood there alone.

“Let me help you,” one of the waiters said. He gathered up your business cards and handed them to you.

You sheepishly took the cards and shoved them back in your purse. “Thanks. Can you take this? I’m not going to drink it.”

“Would you like something else to drink?” he asked as he took your glass of champagne.

“No, thank you. I... I think I’m going to go find my friend.”

You smiled politely at the young man but he had a strange look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“I saw you with Mr. Thomas,” he finally said. “I’m not supposed to talk to the guests but can you tell him I love his work.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Grant Thomas,” the waiter pressed on. “The writer. I saw you two together.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “He only has one arm.”

Oh...

Grant Thomas was Bucky’s pen name.  

Your face broke out into a huge smile and you started giggling to yourself. The waiter recoiled a bit, confused and a little freaked out. You scanned the room for Bucky.

“Of course, I’ll tell him,” you told the waiter. “He’ll be very pleased to hear it.”

You went in search of Bucky, wobbling around in your high heels, a permanent smile on your face. After walking around for a few minutes, you felt more stable and in control, even going so far as to power walk from room to room.

You found him in the Hall of Ocean Life, entertaining a small group of people. You walked over to him, your heels clicking like typewriter keys. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation as you approached.

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely,” a woman cooed, a hand over her heart. “Who was your inspiration for your new book, Grant?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly when he saw you. You gave him a small wave and he held out his hand in your direction. He introduced you to the group, and while it was strange to hear him say your name, you kept a straight face.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you, Grant,” you told him, emphasizing his pen name. “I should have known I'd find you in good company.”

“Oh, she’s the painter,” the woman said. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind me saying this but-” she extended her arms in your direction “wow!”

The woman next to her looked half amused, half exasperated. “It means you look beautiful in that dress.”

“Oh, she knows what it means, Sylvia.” The ‘oh’ woman swatted Bucky’s fake arm. “Grant, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Bucky looked at you with a fond smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Oh, my heart is about to explode,” the ‘oh’ woman squealed before enthusiastically waving to someone behind Bucky. “Sylvia, darling, take her contact details. We need new blood at the gallery. Please, excuse me, I haven’t seen Michael in ages,” she said, stretching out the last word.

She was gone before you could comprehend what was happening. Her laughter echoed through the room. Oh, I hadn’t seen the back of that dress! Sweet baby Jesus!

You found her whimsical and quite intense but if you had to work for her, you’d probably end up looking like her assistant, Sylvia, who seemed at her wits’ end.

She sighed and opened her leather-bound notebook. There were several business cards attached to the pages with paperclips. You handed her one of your business cards as her boss shouted, Oh, Michael, isn’t this party deliiightful? It was Sylvia’s cue to leave.

“Thank you. We’ll take a look at your work and get back to you as soon as we can. Enjoy your night.”

Sylvia rushed to her boss who was looking around like a lost puppy. When she saw her assistant, a look of relief crossed her face. It was a little over the top but it made you smile.

“So, Grant Thomas,” you said, planting yourself directly in front of Bucky now that you were alone. “Cute name.”

“Agh, I wanted to tell you before the party but...” He shrugged. “How did you figure it out?”

“One of the waiters saw us together. He’s your biggest fan. Said you were talented, humble and devilishly handsome in that suit.”

“The waiter said that?” Bucky asked with a frown as he led you toward an empty corridor.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

“I seem to have that effect on people,” he said, linking his arm through yours.

“So humble.” You entered the Hall of Biodiversity together. “What’s the meaning behind your pen name?”

There was a small pause before he answered. “Grant is Steve’s middle name, Thomas is Sam’s. I wanted to honor them. Steve literally saved my life, and Sam... well, he stood by my side even when we barely knew each other.”

“I’m sure they were touched.”

“Meh,” Bucky said with a grimace. “Steve said it sounded like a fake name, and Sam tried to make me use ‘Thomas Grant’ instead. I think deep down they like it.” He turned his head to look at you. “How did it go with the curator?”

You cringed. “Just to give you an idea, imagine an amateur magician performing at their first show. I was sweating, I stuttered, and I dropped my cards. It was awful.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. At least he’ll remember me, right?”

You spent the next couple of hours mingling with a bunch of rich people; most of them were incredibly weird, the others were strangely relatable. You were a lot more cool and collected with Bucky by your side. He always had really nice things to say about you or your paintings, and his words rang true, giving you yet another reason to fall for him.

When you reached the planetarium, Bucky took your hand in his, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

You practically had the place to yourselves, everyone else was either in the Grand Gallery or in the Roosevelt Memorial. Since no one was around, you decided to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot.

You lost track of time, listening to Bucky’s stories about the universe as he guided you along the spiralling walkway.  

“We’re just tiny little specks living on a bigger speck, floating around,” he said, gazing up at a model of Jupiter hanging from the ceiling. “Our time here is so limited, our bodies are so fragile.”

“Umm,” you hummed. “At least we’re not at the bottom of the food chain.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a bummer.”

“Do you know who’s at the bottom of the food chain?” you asked. “French fries. I’m starving.”

His laughter rang out, loud and clear, in the silence of the planetarium. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You headed for the coat-check room, where Bucky left one of his ridiculously generous tips, and stepped outside, shivering from the cold winter night. You looked up at the stars glistening in the dark sky while you walked the short distance to the fast food restaurant.

You ate your fries in silence as you glanced around the restaurant. It was bright and gave off a friendly vibe. There were several other patrons even though it was almost two in the morning, though you and Bucky were the only ones wearing designer clothes.

Your high heels and clutch rested on the booth next to your hip, and Bucky’s bow tie was tied around your wrist. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tanned, muscular chest and a smattering of dark hair.

Bucky had removed his prosthetic after you’d found a booth. His fake arm rested on the table, scaring the hell out of the waitress when she came to take your order. Bucky apologized profusely, probably mentally adding another twenty to her tip.

You dozed off in the cab, utterly exhausted, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His arm was draped over your shoulders, his thumb sweeping up and down your collarbone. When you remembered that you still had to remove your makeup before going to bed, you let out a whine and nestled closer to him. He rested his head on top of yours, and you closed your eyes, enjoying his closeness.

A few days later, you told Natasha about the party, and she reminded you to be careful, to protect your heart. She wished someone had given her this advice when she’d met Sam.

It had never occurred to you that Natasha might have feelings for Sam, not because he was an awful person. No, it was quite the opposite. He was handsome and funny, always looking for some kind of trouble. She’d mentioned multiple times that he was really good in bed, which honestly didn’t surprise you.

You knew she liked him, but you didn’t know she liked him.

On your way home, you mulled over the things she had told you. About a block away from your apartment, you took your keys out of your pocket and stared at the little angel keychain, wondering if your feelings for Bucky were real. The line between friends and lovers was definitely blurred but you couldn’t cross it. There was too much at stake, you couldn’t risk ruining your friendship.

As you turned the corner into your street, you spotted someone standing outside the building’s front door. You slowed down, dawdled, so you could observe them.

You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, though you suspected a man. They were carrying a traveller’s backpack on their shoulders, blocking your view. Whoever it was, they had a fantastic ass.

They pushed the intercom button, waited a few seconds and pushed it again. When the doors remained closed, they turned around to leave and you came face-to-face with a man with long dirty blond hair, a bushy ginger beard and striking baby blue eyes. You immediately recognized him from the photos you’d seen on Bucky’s laptop.

“Oh my God, Steve!” you exclaimed, startling him.

Part 8

[cuddlepilefics]

Shared suffering

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickies: Jisung, Felix

Caregivers: Chan, Minho, Changbin

Requested by: @kilixsstuff

 No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids had just finished up at the company building and were ready to go home for the night. Since none of them were in the mood to cook after a long work day, they decided to stop at a restaurant and have dinner there. That way, nobody would have to do the dishes either. The stress of the day was slowly melting away as they waited for their food. Despite having worked for hours, Jisung and Felix were slowly finding their energy again after getting rid of the stress. While everyone else just quietly ate their food, trying not to fall asleep before making it home, Jisung kept stealing Felix’ food. The Aussie kept loudly complaining about being hungry and not wanting to share his food but Jisung kept sneaking bits from the younger’s plate. It also didn’t stop the rapper when Felix started to kick him under the table every time he noticed Jisung’s chopsticks getting too close to his plate. The other members just watched them, curious as to how they weren’t tired yet. “Lix, can I try a bit of yours?”, Chan asked. Felix pulled a face, whining: “Please no. Jisung has already stolen most of it and I’m still hungry myself, so if you people could just let me have my food, I’d really appreciated it. Thank you!” – “Alright, alright. Sung, you let him eat please. There is still a plate full of food in front of you”, the leader laughed, turning back to his own.

To his surprise, Felix felt full when he finished the last bites of his dinner. He didn’t really eat much because of his youngest hyung but it seemed to have been enough. They made their way back to the dorm and after a quick shower, everybody went to bed, exhausted from the day. Although he had went to bed, Felix had no intention of sleeping yet. His stomach had started to hurt a bit, so in attempt to distract himself, he played games on his phone. About an hour later, the Aussie started to regret playing games on his phone in the dark. The fast movements on the small screen had begun to make him feel nauseous, so he plugged his charger in and placed the phone on his nightstand. He pushed the blanket off because he was running a bit hot and tried to go to sleep, ignoring the pain and churning in his stomach. After a few minutes of tossing and turning in his bed, accompanied with groans of discomfort, Felix decided to use the bathroom. Maybe the pain would go away afterwards.

What he didn’t expect when he shuffled down the hallway, was the bathroom light being on and soft cries coming from the bathroom. Carefully, Felix opened the door to find Jisung sitting with his back against the bathtub, knees pulled close to his chest. “You okay, Ji?”, he whispered, sitting down next to the rapper and rubbing his arm. Jisung shook his head and sniffled into his sleeve before admitting: “My stomach hurts really bad and it feels like I’m going to throw up but nothing’s happening.” Felix cringed in sympathy, though he was a bit confused. The other had been fine all day, they wouldn’t have been fighting over food earlier, if he hadn’t been okay back then. Food. Food that they both had eaten. “Jiji, did you feel okay before dinner?”, the Aussie questioned shakily. Jisung dried his tears, nodding: “I was perfectly fine earlier and then I just started to feel really, really bad.” Felix bit his lip, almost certain that he knew what was bothering them both. ‘Well, that’s what you get for stealing my food’, he thought sadly. Laying one arms over his own sore middle, Felix sighed: “I think it was the food we had earlier. The only reason I’m still awake is the stomachache keeping me up. I thought I only felt nauseous from playing games on my phone but now that I see you, I’m starting to doubt it.” – “You’re not feeling well, either?”, Jisung frowned. Felix shook his head and allowed the rapper to rest his head on Felix shoulder.

“So, what are we going to do now?”, Felix asked, rubbing his arms up and down. In contrast to earlier, he was now feeling rather cold. Jisung lifted his head and hummed: “Sleep over on the couch?” – “Okay, you feeling okay to move?”, Felix asked, still nervous the other would get sick any minute. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his own stomach in place if Jisung got sick. To his relief, the rapper nodded: “Still think it’s gonna happen at some point, just not now. I’ll get our blankets and two buckets, you get water and tea?” – “Sounds like a plan”, Felix agreed, “See you in a few.” They got up and parted ways. Felix went to the kitchen and prepared a pot of ginger and peppermint tea, hoping it would settle their stomachs. He knew where Jisung was coming from when he wanted to get buckets too, he just hoped the rapper would be wrong and they wouldn’t need them. Jisung snuck into both of their rooms to collect the blankets from their beds, careful not to wake any of the members up. After dropping the blankets on the couch, he raided the closet in the hallway and brought two buckets that he set down on either side of the couch. Felix soon joined him with a tray, carrying two water bottles, two cups and a pot of tea. Jisung was already curled up on one side of the couch, so Felix handed him his tea before getting comfy with his own cup in hand.

After a few tentative sips, Jisung put his cup down, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stomach any more. The liquid didn’t sit right with him. Felix finished his tea completely, convincing himself that it would help him feel better, if he just managed to get it all down. They wished each other good night and tried to go to sleep. Maybe they’d be able to just sleep it off. Felix again started to shift around, unable to get comfortable. He was always craving physical affection when he wasn’t feeling well and he doubted he’d be able to go to sleep without cuddles. “Jiji?” – “Hmm?” – “C-can we cuddle, hyung?”, the Aussie asked shyly. Jisung shifted around a bit, making some space next to him and warning: “Just try not to touch my stomach, please. That wouldn’t end well.” Felix nodded nervously and settled himself against the rapper’s side, wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders. “You okay, Lix? You’re shivering”, Jisung hummed, feeling the younger shake against his side. The Aussie admitted that he was cold, so they decided to layer their blankets. “You know, Ji, I really want Channie right now”, Felix groaned, pressing his hand against his stomach as it cramped up painfully. Jisung stroked the younger’s arm and sighed: “I know, I really wish Minho was here right now too but they were so tired earlier. We should really let them sleep.” Felix nodded. A loud gurgle could be heard, followed by Felix whimpering. “You good?”, Jisung frowned. Felix shook his head, whining: “It hurts so bad.”

They tried resting for another ten minutes, when Jisung started to pat Felix’ arm urgently. Felix immediately let go of the rapper, who darted to the bathroom. Jisung made it there just in time to gag harshly over the toilet. Tears started to pool in his eyes as he coughed, choking up a small trickle of his dinner. Felix tried to take deep breaths through his nose, as he made his way to the bathroom to. He knew how much the rapper hated to throw up, so he went to comfort him. It wouldn’t really make that much of a difference to Felix anyways because he could hear him from the living room too. The Aussie carefully crouched down behind his friend. One arm wrapped around his own middle, as his stomach was upset at him for getting up from the couch, the other hand gently rubbed up and down Jisung’s back. Felix could feel the muscles tense under his hand, every time the older threw up. He tried to ignore the sounds of something thicker than water splashing into the porcelain bowl but in combination with the smell, Felix own stomach started to rebel even harder. It didn’t take long for him to jump up from the ground and step in front of the sink, as his throat contracted with a gag. His knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the sink so hard, while breathing heavily. He tried to calm his stomach, maybe he could keep it down if he just took a few deep breaths. Hearing a strained retch come from Jisung was too much for the Aussie to handle and he squeezed his eyes shut as his own dinner shot up his throat.

Felix was still heaving over the sink, while Jisung tiredly rested his cheek on the toilet seat, too dizzy to care about germs or anything. The rapper was completely spent, feeling sorry that he couldn’t return the favor of rubbing Felix’ back like the younger had done for him earlier but he would probably faint if he tried to get up right now. Felix whimpered pitifully before giving a rough cough that only made him bring up more of his stomach contents. Then there was a hand on his back and another one around his waist steadying him. Felix managed to look up with tears in his eyes, looking into Chan’s concerned face. “What’s going on?”, the leader hummed sleepily. Felix tried to answer but had to turn back over the sink, getting sick again. Rubbing Felix back, Chan looked over at a pale and drained Jisung, who groaned: “Food poisoning.” It only made sense how they suddenly went from their energetic selves to this in a matter of hours. Spitting into the sink a last time, Felix slumped back into Chan, who caught him and carefully lowered him to the ground, afraid the younger would pass out. “Are you both done for now?”, the leader asked, feeling relieved when both of his dongsaengs nodded, “Okay, hold tight you two, I’m gonna get Minho.” Jisung wanted to protest because the older really needed sleep but he also wanted his hyung by his side to make him feel better.

“Hey there, little squirrel”, the dancer cooed when he crouched down behind his almost-boyfriend, “You’re okay. Why don’t we get you to the couch?” The rapper nodded, allowing the older to pull him to his feet. They slowly made their way to the living room with Jisung leaning heavily onto his hyung. Minho smiled sadly at the camp he found on the couch. Apparently, they had both been up for a while already, trying to handle themselves without waking any of the older members up. While Minho got Jisung settled on the couch with the bucket in close reach, Chan stepped next to Felix. The younger was still sitting on the floor with his legs pulled close to his chest. He leaned his head against Chan’s leg, while the older rinsed out the sink, cleaning away any evidence of the ordeal Felix had just gone through. “Don’t fall asleep yet”, the oldest warned, earning a small whine from Felix. He chuckled: “By the way, thanks for not sharing your food with me earlier, Lix.” – “Hmmm Channie, please don’t talk about food”, the younger groaned. Chan wet a washcloth with cool water and crouched down to clean the sweat from Felix’ face, cooing: “There you go. I think you’re also running a temperature. Seems like your body is trying to get rid of as much as possible and burning the rest.” Felix only whimpered as the leader picked him up and carried him to the living room.

“You know, I’m never stealing food from you again. You make bad choices when ordering stuff”, Jisung complained when Chan helped Felix get comfortable on the other side of the couch. The Aussie just stuck his tongue out, agreeing: “Good. ‘twas mine anyway. Can we cuddle again? I’m cold.” – “Sorry Lix, I’m really, really hot right now”, the rapper said with a sad smile. Chan looked at Minho, frowning: “Is he running a fever too?” The dancer nodded and knelt on the floor next to Jisung, running his fingers through the younger’s sweaty hair. Chan handed Felix his water bottle, so he could get rid of the vile taste. For a while it was quiet except for the occasional gurgling of one of the sickies’ stomachs. Then suddenly, Jisung sat up and Minho immediately pushed the bucket into his lap. Chan took that as their que to leave and quickly carried Felix to their room that they shared with Changbin. He sat his dizzy dongsaeng down on his bed and handed him his headphones, afraid the younger be affected by Jisung getting sick, then he pushed the bin from under his desk next to the bed, just in case. Felix was still wracked with chills, so Chan bundled him in the remaining blankets and let the younger rest in his arms. Felix was dozing off with his head on Chan’s chest, listening to Chan’s sleep playlist while the older played with his hair. Changbin sat up, studying his roommates confused. “What’s going on?”, he rasped, voice thick with sleep. Chan looked at the rapper, feeling bad that they had woken him, and whispered: “Felix and Jisung have food poisoning from what they ate for dinner. You can go back to sleep, Minho and I got it handled.”

Changbin shook his head and sat up, now fully awake. He wanted to help too. Chan explained how they had made their quick escape a few minutes prior, so Changbin got up and made his way to the living room to at least collect Felix’ blanket and water bottle. The sight there almost broke his heart. Jisung was clutching the bucket like his life depended on it. He cried in pain while Minho rubbed his back, biting his lip. “Sung, I really think you’re done now. You can let go of the bucket”, the dancer whispered. Jisung shook his head before burying his head into the bucket with a forceful retch. Minho sighed but continued to comfort the younger. “You need help there?”, Changbin asked quietly, startling the pair. Minho nodded, while Jisung was to busy trying to bring something up despite being empty. Changbin quickly brought Felix’ things back to their room, informing Chan that Minho needed him. When he made it back to the living room, Jisung had accepted that there was nothing left in him and was now quietly crying in Minho’s arms. Changbin took the bucket to the bathroom and cleaned it out, before taking it back to the living room. He also took a cold washcloth with him because of how flushed and sweaty Jisung had looked. Minho thanked him and gently brushed the washcloth over Jisung’s face, cleaning away sweat and tears before resting it against the younger’s feverish forehead.

As Jisung slowly calmed down and drifted off to sleep with his head in Minho’s lap, Changbin went back to his room to check on the two Aussies. Felix seemed to be asleep against Chan’s chest but something about his pained facial expression didn’t sit right with Changbin. He picked up the bin and had it ready just in time, when Felix suddenly sat up and lurched forward with a retch. While Changbin held the bin under his chin, Chan removed the headphones and steadied Felix by his shoulders. The younger only brought up a thin trickle of bile, already mostly empty from earlier, before cuddling back into Chan. “How did you predict that?”, the leader whispered surprised. Changbin put the bin back on the floor and replied: “I’ve never seen somebody change color that fast.” The leader nodded, he had only seen the back of Felix’ head so he couldn’t notice but was glad the other had in time. Sighing, he brushed the hair away from the younger’s sweaty forehead. Seems like they were all in for a long night. Around lunch time the next day, Jisung’s fever broke and he was able to keep the small amount of soup, Minho forced him to eat, down. Felix took a bit longer but by the next evening, his chills were gone and he let Chan talk him into nibbling a few crackers, which luckily stayed down as well.

[the-currian]

T7!

lmao this entire fic is full of inside jokes. originally made for the Filo A3!/Genshin discord I’m a part of as part of the server bang. it’s already been uploaded there, so i decided to fix it up a bit and upload it here as well^^

i may not be active anymore in the server; i’m more of a lurker now, but i’d like to dedicate this to the server members. you guys gave me lots of good times and things to smile about & look forward to during a time when i was trying to pick myself up. thank you <3

--

One event that Izumi brushes off as the daily shenanigans that come along with being the director of the Mankai Company has a bigger impact on her actors than she thought.

or:

The director is clueless to the thirst/advances of the company. The troupes struggle. The director remains oblivious.

--

It all started with a towel.

Living in a dorm along with over twenty young men, surely there would be no shortage of needs for day-to-day life… or so Izumi thought. Staring at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror has made her realize that perhaps she’d overestimated the dorm’s supplies.

‘Maybe if I’m quiet enough, no one will notice me sneaking back to my room.’ She thinks to herself in dismay, tugging at the bath towel that just barely covered the more…indecent parts of her body.

‘It’s just my luck that my bathroom sprung a leak.’

Thus, Izumi was forced to use one of the communal bathrooms shared by the actors. Of course, she’d made it abundantly clear that no one was allowed to go in while she made use of the actors’ facilities (Izumi’s also fairly sure that Sakyo had stressed that no one was allowed even remotely near the communal bathroom while she were there) but the thought of walking back to her room with nothing but a towel on made her anxiety skyrocket.

‘I should’ve just waited for my own shower to be fixed.’

Being too used to having her own private bathroom, Izumi had developed the habit of only grabbing a towel from a cabinet before heading off into the showers since it’s directly connected to her room. Why bother bringing new clothes into the bathroom and risk getting them wet when she could just change in her own bedroom?

Obviously that logic was null in this scenario – what with the trek she now has to make back to her room from the communal showers, and only in a towel! Moreover, the towel was obviously intended for only covering the lower half of men, if the short length was anything to go by.

Mulling it over, Izumi weighs the pros and cons of walking through the dorm’s corridors in only a towel to shield herself, then allows herself a few minutes to sulk over the decision made. Taking a deep breath, Izumi steels herself before slowly creaking open the bathroom door, peeking for any bystanders. Seeing none, she carefully tiptoes back to her room. 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As she makes her way through, Izumi feel like every step echoes throughout the halls and she instinctively tightens her grip on the towel, desperately trying to draw it tighter and more securely around her. Thankfully, Izumi is able to make it to her room without incident – she really needs to thank Sakyo for clearing the area later – when suddenly, as her room is less than a meter away, a shadow darts into her field of vision.

Already tense and on edge from the situation she found herself in, Izumi lets out an ear-splitting shriek and all hell breaks loose.

Footsteps come thundering her way and Izumi’s brain short-circuits as the whole company suddenly appears in the corridors, all of them calling out “director” or various other namesakes in worried tones.

Izumi struggles to form a coherent sentence to tell them that she’s fine and for all of them to stay the hell away please and thank you, when the shadow from earlier who she now identifies as Misumi in the middle of a triangle hunt cheerfully calls out,

“Oh, director! Did you have a nice bath?”

The corridor goes eerily quiet, and Izumi feel several pairs of eyes focused on her state of dress – or lack thereof, rather.

Masumi and several other of the younger members faint almost instantly. Most of the adults’ faces flush bright red as they stammer out apologies, while some others politely avert their eyes.

One thing is for certain.

The entire company is suddenly reminded that their director is in fact a very attractive, very single, woman.

As all the men seem to be distracted by their own mental turmoil, Izumi takes the opportunity to slip into her room. After making sure the door is securely locked, she deflates and slides down against the door. The shuffling of footsteps fades away, signaling the company members’ retreat, and Izumi’s mind takes its sweet time to process what just occurred.

Once again, the Mankai dorms are filled with Izumi’s ear-splitting shriek, only this time the members are wise enough to leave her be.

--

By dinnertime, Izumi figures she’s calmed down enough to let bygones be bygones.

“Thanks for the food!” she forces herself to say in a cheery manner, tight-lipped smile giving her away.

She’s honestly still feeling a bit apprehensive by the stares she receives over the dining table, but her actors fall back into an easy conversation. Izumi, on the other hand, finds herself half-heartedly poking the eggplant tempura that she normally eats with gusto as a side dish to her beloved curry. Something about the atmosphere makes her feel uneasy as if there’s some sort of unspoken tension that everyone but she has figured out.

Again, Izumi feels everyone’s eyes on her as she abruptly stands up. In her haste, the chair screeches against the floor and her tableware clatters noisily, making herself the unwanted center of attention.

“I…I’m not feeling that hungry tonight.” Izumi mutters, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Mustering up the last of her dignity, Izumi shuffles out of the room and goes straight to her bedroom, making sure the door locks.

Unbeknownst to her, mere minutes after she’d cleared the vicinity, Sakyo abruptly calls for an all-troupes-on-deck meeting. After clearing the dining area, the large group of young men make their way over to the living room and try their best to get comfortable amongst one another, the room suddenly feeling very cramped with everyone in the room at the same time.

In front of them all, the only one standing, Sakyo paces back and forth as he strategizes the best course of action to approach the situation. He comes to a sudden halt and the group’s attention is immediately focused on Sakyo, with the younger ones’ backs stiffening as they straighten up in an unconscious sign of deference.

“We do not speak of the incident that happened earlier this morning.” Sakyo’s voice comes out quietly but threateningly as he levels a glare at each and every occupant of the room. “We make the director feel as safe as possible in our presence. Got it?”

Not bothering to wait for a response, Sakyo stalks out of the room. Slowly, the actors disperse and go about their usual nightly activities, but fuelled by the reminder of the spectacle that had occurred that morning gave them some other plans in mind.

--

“Tangina mo, Banri.” Itaru swears under his breath as his character is suddenly left for dead in the middle of a space station. The culprit was none other than Banri, who had Itaru and the other players in the server fooled.

“What was that, Chigasaki?” Chikage questions with mild interest from his side of the room.

Itaru takes out his phone and opens up another game to play as he waits for Banri to inevitably win as the impostor in the game.

“Playing a game with some strangers online. Picked up some lingo from these Filo players that Banri and I happen to clash against a lot.” Itaru elaborates with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Hm. I do wonder how you or Settsu intend to win the director over when all you do is mess around in those games of yours.”

Itaru’s fingers hover over his phone screen for a split second as he processes the older man’s words.

“…Excuse me?”

“You are aware of what the... ah, towel incident this morning has caused, aren’t you?”

“Sakyo already told us to not bring it up.” Itaru says calmly, but Chikage notices his roommate’s ears redden at the reminder, and is pleased to see that his goading has its intended effect.

“Of course.” Chikage concedes. “However, the younger members of the troupe can be quite rash.”

Itaru lightly drops his phone onto his desk and runs his fingers through his hair as he grudgingly turns to his roommate. Itaru hastily ties his bangs away from his face and levels what he hopes is a neutral stare at Chikage. 

“Not my job to keep the kids’ thirsting under control.” He says, then turns back to face his monitor.

“I suppose…”

With that, Itaru starts playing his game again as the subject matter is dropped.

“But perhaps it’s not the kids you should be worrying about.”

…or so he thought.

Again, Itaru takes the bait and bites out, “What exactly are you trying to say, senpai?”

Chikage changes his expression into one of feigned innocence. “Nothing, really. Ah, I do hope you don’t mind having curry for lunch tomorrow. The director and I will be cooking together all morning.”

Itaru is about to stand up and retort, fed up with Chikage’s subtle remarks, when a loud noise blares from Itaru’s computer, causing him to curse and swiftly turn back to his screen. “Shit, you’re distracting me from my game. Do me a favor and go back to being the absentee roommate for a while.”

With an amused chuckle, Chikage acquiesces to his roommate’s request and heads out, closing the door behind him.

Itaru slumps back against his chair as soon as the older man is gone and puts on his headset. Taking a quick glance back before clicking it on, he speaks in a low voice,

“Hey, director, sorry for muting my mici. Let’s get back to the game, shall we?”

--

The next morning, Chikage walks into the kitchen with a special bag of spices in hand. However, seeing another member of the company already in the kitchen with the director has him narrowing his eyes and his mouth curving down in displeasure.

“So first we have to roast the eggplant before we dip it in the egg?” Izumi asks her companion.

Chikage takes in the sight of Omi leaning in quite close behind the director with the excuse of supervising her work, and a twinge of annoyance bothers him.

“That’s right.” Omi confirms, drawing even closer to Izumi as he points to the long, purple fruit. “But before that, we peel the skin off after it’s done roasting.”

The tall college student is practically caging Izumi as both hands reach from either side of her to demonstrate how to peel the eggplant. At this, Chikage decides to make his presence known.

“I was under the impression that it would only be the two of us making lunch, director.” he butts in, frown replaced with a sharp smile.

“Oh, Chikage!” Izumi calls out as she casually slips out of Omi’s arms, oblivious to the pout on Omi’s face as she does so. “Don’t worry! We’re still making curry for lunch. It’s just that Tasuku got a bunch of eggplants from helping out at a farm, so we’ve been trying to figure out different ways to cook them. I believe this dish is called tortang talong? Anyway, Omi insisted that he help me out with lunch today! I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, Chikage.” Omi echoes, looking completely unapologetic as he says so.

Not one to back down, Chikage completely ignores the younger man’s backhanded apology and instead turns his attention to the director.

“Here.” he says, holding the bag of spices out to Izumi. As she takes the bag from Chikage, his hands linger on hers for much longer than strictly necessary, causing her grip on the bag to fumble. A blush quickly creeps onto Izumi’s face.

“Th-thanks.” She stammers, hastily pulling her hands back as soon as she’s gotten a firm hold on the bag of spices.

The three adults cook in the kitchen with an awkward silence that Izumi just can’t figure out the root of. An unspoken tension looms over and she can’t bring herself to speak up. Lost in her thoughts, Izumi picks up a roasted eggplant then yelps at the heat of the newly roasted fruit, burning herself. Before Izumi can act, Omi grasps her wrist, inspecting her hand.

“Be careful, alright?” he says gently, guiding Izumi over to the sink and sticking her hand under the running faucet.

Izumi involuntarily shivers, and she’s not so sure if it’s because of the temperature of the cold water or if it’s because of the tender way that Omi handles her.

“Let Omi and I take care of the rest, director.” Chikage’s voice comes out harshly, snapping Izumi out of her thoughts. He hands her an ice pack and she takes it with a grateful smile.

“That’s probably for the best.” Izumi agrees, then turns off the faucet. As she leaves the kitchen and heads over to the living room, Izumi can feel the tension from earlier return tenfold and quickly hightails it out of there, deciding that she didn’t want to know, nor did she want to get caught up in the crossfire.

--

“So it’s curry again today, huh.” Tenma says dejectedly as he settles at the dining table.

Most of the other company members mumble the same sentiment but ultimately sit down.

Citron’s eyes light up as he spots the other food dish on the table. “Not to worry, everyone! It appears we are also having Tasuku’s eggplant for lunch!”

Several of the actors give Citron a blank stare.

“Somehow, that just doesn’t sound right.” Taichi says, and Juza nods in agreement.

“Oh, director! What happened to your hand?” Tsumugi blurts out, immediately picking up on the strange way Izumi held her chopsticks.

Izumi blanches and reflexively cradles her hand to her chest, closing herself off from the young men to spare them from worry. “It’s nothi–“

“Izumi accidentally burned herself while preparing lunch.” Chikage immediately speaks over her.

“Uwah!” Muku cries out. “Director, you shouldn’t be using your hand, then! You might irritate the wound and then it might get worse and then you’ll have to retire from being director because your–“

“Hey, hey, chillax!” Kazunari reins in Muku before he can start spiralling into catastrophizing Izumi’s minor dilemma. “The solution is obvious, Mukkun! All I have to do is feed Izumi her lunch! Her dinner, too, probs!”

“If anyone is feeding the director, it’s gonna be me.” Masumi asserts.

“Now hold on a minute. “ Izumi begins to protest.

“Fufufu~ How about it, director?” Azuma says, offering his own eggplant to Izumi with his chopsticks.

The dining room is quickly filled with the clamor of various members insisting that they be the one to feed the director her lunch.

“Boys, settle down!” Izumi yells over the cacophony of voices. At the authority in her tone, the young men back down and turn their attention to Izumi. “No one is going to be feeding me my lunch but myself.”

“But director, I must insist that we protect your hand from–“ Homare insists, then cuts himself off as he shrinks back from Izumi’s intense glare.

“I’ll just eat with my other hand using a fork.” She says before turning to Sakyo. “Sakyo, if you’d be so kind, could you cut my food into smaller pieces for me?”

“What a kid.” He grouses, but obliges to Izumi’s request, a triumphant glow in his eyes as he challengingly looks at the other members who are about to protest.

With the problem solved and the members (relatively) under control, lunch proceeds as normal – well, as normal as possible – for the Mankai Company.

--

“I’m really sorry to bother you two like this.” Izumi addresses the two men in her room later that afternoon. “I know I should probably get a professional to do this, but I just don’t want a repeat of yesterday happening anytime soon.”

All three occupants of the room’s faces heat up at the reminder.

“It’s fine.” Tasuku mumbles, determinedly looking at anywhere but Izumi.

“Right!” Tsuzuru chimes in, eyebrow twitching in betrayal of his true emotions. “Since Tasuku and I are both used to doing odd jobs, this’ll be a cinch.”

“Alright, then.” Izumi says, then opens the door to her bathroom, ushering the two young men inside. Tasuku and Tsuzuru take wary steps, toolboxes in hand, feeling a bit apprehensive about invading Izumi’s private space.

“Go ahead.” Izumi encourages, noticing their stiff posture. “I have nothing to hide! No dead bodies or horses or any other weird things like that.” She jokes, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere.

Neither of the actors deign to give her a response, and instead set down their toolboxes, pulling out wrenches, screwdrivers, flashlights, and the like to figure out and solve the leakage.

Izumi silently watches as the two men deftly handle the tools. She finds herself entranced by the way their arms slightly flex while their fingers nimbly maneuver their tools as they tinker away at her shower.

Realizing her train of thought, Izumi lightly slaps her cheeks as she feels a blush rising to her face.

‘Get a hold of yourself! They’re just here to fix your shower–‘

Izumi’s mind comes to a screeching halt as Tasuku lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe some sweat off of his brow, unknowingly (?) allowing her to catch a glimpse of his abs. Similarly affected by the heat as they work, Tsuzuru rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off his lean arm muscles along with the veins that slightly protrude from his forearms as they flex whilst working.

“I-I’ll leave you to it, then!” Izumi barely manages to squeak out, face glowing bright red, before fleeing the bathroom.

Tasuku and Tsuzuru spare a quick glance back at her retreating figure before going back to work, identical smirks on their smug faces.

--

Later that evening, Izumi’s shower is fixed without incident and she’s ready to relax after all the shenanigans of the day.

‘Nothing like a hot shower to wash the stress away before going to bed.’

This time, she makes sure to check the towel’s length, ensuring it’s long enough to cover all the important bits. After a few seconds of contemplation, she also grabs a bathrobe.

‘Just in case…’

Izumi lazily undresses herself before settling under the stream of warm, steaming water. A satisfied mewl escapes her lips as she feels herself unwind, her body relaxing in the warmth of the shower.

She allows herself a few minutes of comfortable silence in the shower before grabbing her shampoo to start lathering when the water suddenly turns ice cold. Her eyes widen at the sensation as she instinctively jumps away and lets out a screech.

Within seconds, the actors’ footsteps thunder down the corridor over to Izumi’s room. A sense of déjà vu comes over her as she hears several shouts of, “Director, are you okay?!” and “What’s going on?!”, coupled with loud banging on her (thankfully) locked door.

Izumi lets out an exasperated groan.

‘I knew I should’ve just gotten a professional to fix the shower.’

[cafedanslanuit]

Grow as we go || Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Oh, who said it's true that the growing only happens on your own? / They don't know me and you

a/n: Finally, the last chapter! And the longest lol. I’m really happy you enjoyed this little series. I’ll see all of you around <3 tagging list~ @loeybk​ @animemelanie360​

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。

Heroes got sick too. You knew that, but didn’t expect getting stuck in your room for two days was going to be as miserable as it was. Yes, you were thankful that pneumonia had receeded to a cold thanks to Recovery Girl but, somehow, this cold felt worse than being hit in training. On Monday you were supposed to go back to classes when the cold symptoms were gone, and even if it was only a weekend away, you couldn’t wait anymore. You had already finished the last book you had bought and has streamed all seasons of your favourite series. Having nothing to do plus the weight of knowing you were missing important lessons and trainings had put you in the worst mood to the point you had asked your father not to disturb you unless there was an active fire.

It was Friday afternoon and he had already gone into your room eight times. You chose a movie on Netflix and while the opening credits played, you looked at your door, thinking about the possibility of putting your bookshelf against the door to prevent it from opening. Would it be over the top? Yes. Would it help you be alone at least until your movie finished? Also yes. Before you could really decide, you heard him knocking your door once again. You rolled your eyes, exhausted.

“Dad, please, leave me alone” your door opened and you pressed the spacebar to pause the movie. Turning to your right, you saw your father entering your bedroom and your ex boyfriend following him. You squealed, covering yourself with your sheets, even if you were wearing pajamas.

“Dad!”

“Katsuki came to bring you some homework, I think?” he looked over at Bakugou, who just nodded. He was still in his U.A. uniform. “I’ll leave you too, can I bring you anything?”

“No, thank you” Bakugou said with a small bow. Your father smiled and left your room, closing the door behind him.

A tense silence between the two of you reigned. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to talk first, and if you were, you didn’t know what were you supposed to say. While grades were important in U.A., they mostly relayed on the final exams, which weren’t due in at least another month. There was no need for him to bring you homework and you couldn’t help but think it was an excuse for him to see you. The idea made your heart skip a beat, holding onto the last bit of hope you still had within you.

“Aizawa asked me to give you this” he grunted, opening his backpack and handing you his notebook. You parted your lips, looking at his notebook and then back at him. Of course.

“I knew Aizawa didn’t like me, but this is just sad” you said with a dry laugh. Taking Bakugou’s notebook, you opened it and started looking for the lessons you had missed. Since you figured he wouldn’t just stand there and wait for you to copy a two day’s worth of classes, you took your phone and started taking pictures of all the pages you needed to copy later.

While you did that, you saw with the corner of your eye how Bakugou started walking around your room. Even if he had been at your house a couple of times before, he had never been inside your bedroom. You both had always spent your time in the living room or in the kitchen if you felt hungry. Still, Bakugou would never let you cook as ‘you cut tofu in sticks rather than dices like a maniac’, so he always took the lead. Not that you complained, he knew his way around the kitchen, which made you love him a little bit more.

In one of those occasions, he had met your father. Bakugou had been stirring a pot of miso soup when your father’s keys opened the front door. You went to the living room and greeted him, informing him your boyfriend was visiting. You had talked to him about Bakugou before, since the both of you had been dating for four months. Your heart warmed when you saw your father greeting Bakugou as an old friend and asking what he was cooking. Bakugou’s tense expression was laughable, as he tried his best not to use swear words around him. 

Dinner had been great, you father doing his best to make Bakugou feel welcome, asking about school and praising him for such a delicious meal. Finally, your father gave you both some alone time as he went in to take a shower. You wasted no time in teasing Bakugou about being so tense around your father, but also confessed you were really happy you two had actually met. You thanked him for putting in some effort, earning a grump from him, which only made you smile further.

Having your father like Bakugou seemed like a blessing, but it only felt like torture now that he had let him in knowing you hadn’t been together in the last three months. When you talked about your situation with Bakugou with your father, he had asked you to give Bakugou another chance. You said you were waiting for him to sort out his mind and you had already accepted it could take more time than you wished for. ‘Why do you like him so much, anyway?’ you had asked, rolling your eyes. ‘He just seemed to care for you” your father had smiled sadly at you and changed the topic before you started crying once more.

“Weren’t you eighteen?”

You turned your head to Bakugou, who was holding your Jigglypuff plushie.

“I could say the same about your All Might posters” you countered. You looked at each other and, for the first time, the one who let out a snort was Bakugou. You expected him to shot back another comment, but instead he just kept looking around your room. “Denki actually bought it, you know?” you commented, your eyes fixated on Bakugou’s notebook

“What?” Bakugou snapped.

“He got it for Jirou saying it reminded him of her but she got mad and gave it to me” you chuckled at the memory, taking the final photo with your phone and closing Bakugou’s notebook. “Thanks for bringing this. I was already hating myself for getting this sick”

“Yeah, no shit” he muttered, putting his notebook back into his backpack. “How the fuck did you manage to do that?”

“Uhh, I may or may have not forgotten an umbrella on my way back home” you chuckled, scratching the back of your head.

“Why didn’t you see Recovery Girl?”

“I did! If I hadn’t I would have ended up with pneumonia. Now it’s just a cold. My body just needs to rest” you explained, shuffling in your seat. Now that his mission was over, you knew he had to get back, but you didn’t want him to. You hadn’t talked to each other outside of training since the gym incident happened. The first days were mostly because whenever you looked at him, you remembered the way his hands had held you against the wall, making you flustered and losing attention of any chore you were doing. You had been caught staring at nothing several times by your friends, playing Bakugou’s words over and over in your head.

‘I’d rather have this than nothing at all’

You couldn’t have agreed more with him. Even if he hadn’t approached you, you’d rather have him in your room, at least for a little while.

“When did--”

“My mother--”

A chuckle fell from your lips.

“Sorry, it wasn’t important. You were saying something about your mom?”

“That old hag asked me to give you this” he said, looking into his backpack again. He took out a soup thermos, an individual package of disposable chopsticks and handed it to you. Bakugou finally sat on the foot of your bed, his stern expression never leaving his face.

“That’s so nice of her” you smiled, taking the thermos and opening the lid. A smell of soup warmed your body. “Can I?” you asked, grabbing the chopsticks.

“What the fuck you think it’s for?” he rolled his eyes.

You started eating the soup, noticing how delicious it was. Not only that, it was your favourite kind: miso soup. You didn’t know if it was because you were sick, but it made you feel like you were on cloud nine. Humming contently, you picked a piece of tofu and noticed it was cut in sticks rather than dices.

“How did she know I prefer them in sticks?” you asked with an amused expression. Bakugou’s face turned red, and you watched him in awe as he opened his mouth but couldn’t say a thing. The truth suddenly hit you, making you grin widely at the boy in front of you.

“T-the fuck if I know how! Her cooking is shit and--”

“You remembered” you sighed, feeling your eyes burning. You bit your tongue, doing your best to avoid crying. You set the thermos aside and crawled on your bed, getting closer to Bakugou. You finally kneeled in front of him, his eyes watching you wide open while his eyebrows were still characteristically furrowed. “You actually remembered” you repeated in a small voice. His eyes darted sideways, a deep blush still covering his cheeks.

“Of fucking course I--”

You interrupted him by pressing your lips against hiss. Bakugou let out a surprised groan, but it wasn’t long until his hands were on the middle of your back, pulling you closer. You had his face between your hands, not being able to stop smiling as you were kissing him. It was amazing how much your body seemed to have craved him, even though it hadn’t been more than a month since you had last kissed.

Bakugou pulled away, setting his hands on your shoulders. Your smile fell a little when you realized he wasn’t smiling like you hoped: a preoccupied expression covered his face.

“I still haven’t figured it out” he muttered, looking you straight in the eyes. It took you a moment to understand what he was talking about, but your last conversation quickly popped in your mind.

“Oh. I…” you paused, sitting back and taking a deep breath. “I think you have, though”

“I still feel fucking frustrated. Especially now” he grunted, making you laugh.

“You’re just horny” you teased him. Bakugou flicked your forehead.

“Fuck off”

“Did you feel frustrated while you were making the soup?” you asked, changing your kneeling position to a sitting one, a leg bent while the other dangled from the bed. Bakugou stayed silent for a moment, his face scrunching, a tell-tale sign he was trying to concentrate. You remembered seeing that expression when you looked over at him while you were taking a test. Waiting for an answer made you feel uneasy, but you did your best to be patient.

“No” he said after a few moments. You felt the corner of your lip twitching upwards.

“What did you feel?” you saw Bakugou’s eyebrows scrunch again and quickly shook your head. “No, no, forget that. Just… did it feel good?”

“Yeah, I guess” Bakugou shrugged.

“You love me, then” you smile.

“Because I made you soup?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because you cooked my favourite soup, cut the tofu how I like it and then brought it to me. Yes, Katsuki, you love me” you grinned, pecking his cheek. You noticed how there was the tiniest of smiles on Bakugou’s face, a sight you had longed for weeks.

“Okay, I love you then”

Bakugou put his arms around you, your face nuzzling against his chest. The smell of caramel and cinnamon invading your senses, making the idea of taking a nap there really enticing. You had missed the feeling of his strong arms around you, making you feel protected, now even more that you knew he loved you. There were no longer idle thoughts wondering what did he think about your relationship or yourself. There was only him, Katsuki, making you feel the most loved you had ever felt. He pressed a kiss on top of your head and you thought you were going to melt right there.

“Wanna stay for a movie?” you asked, raising your head towards him.

“I’m not watching a chick flick” he warned.

“There’s this crime documentary on Netflix, how about that?” 

“Fine. But eat the damn soup, it’s going to get cold”

You went back to your original position on your bed, pulling the covers and grabbing the laptop that was left behind. Bakugou sat on your side, grabbing a pillow and using it to rest his back.

Once you two were settled, you pressed play and Bakugou handed you the soup thermos. You took out another tofu and giggled to yourself.

“You love me”

“Already regretting saying that” Bakugou grunted, putting his arm around your shoulders. He let out a sigh and paused the movie again, turning his head towards you. “Listen. I obviously feel a bunch of shit for you. But it’s still… was it that easy? I’ve been putting my fucking head through the wall trying to understand and suddenly the answer was soup?” he asked in disbelief. “I love you. I get that now, but… I’ve never felt that before. So everything is still fucking confusing, not gonna lie”.

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. We’re both kind of new at this, so please don’t take it so hard. I mean, yes, think about it, analyze your feelings just know that I’ll be right there” you smiled softly,

“Thought you broke up with me ‘cause I couldn’t sort out my fucking feelings” he reminded you.

“Yeah” you let out a small laugh. “I may have been a tad wrong. I mean, you were an asshole and you did need to sort out your feelings, but... trying to understand our feelings isn’t something that just stops. I think our feelings will always change through time. I think loving me now will feel different to loving me one year from now. But as long as, above all that, it is love... we’ll be okay. I just want to keep growing together, you know?”

“You’re so fucking cheesy” Bakugou sighed, but pulled you closer to him. You grinned and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

“But you loooove me” you teased him, making Bakugou roll his eyes at you. “You know, I may have to thank Aizawa for sending you here. I must have been wrong about him hating me”

“He sent Deku. I found that green shit outside of U.A., told him to fuck off and that I would do it myself” he grunted. You laughed loudly besides him, almost dropping the thermos on your lap.

“You’re so fucking cute”

“Shut up and resume the movie, asshole”

[niksixx]

Homecoming

Requested: By a lovely Anon! 

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Female Reader 

Description: “I’m sending an ask now for tomorrow (12th) bc I’m in a different time zone and don’t wanna miss the first day submitting requests because I love your writing so much! Can you do a Nikki x Reader, of Nikki having been on tour, and when he gets back he’s missed the reader so much that all he wants to do is please her, and he asks her to ride his thigh and then his face? Ahhh! With lots of dirty talk and praise. Thankyouuuuu”

Warning: Smut

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment! 

*GIF is not mine, credits to the owner*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten more minutes, just ten more minutes Nikki thought to himself, eagerly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It had been a long seven months of touring different cities in Europe, and though Nikki was living the dream with his three best friends, there was a woman waiting for him at home who he could not wait to see.

The calls, the texts, the sexts, nothing compared to seeing your face and holding you against his chest. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on your body, his mouth on your sweet lips. Just thinking about all the sex he’d be having to make up for lost time caused him to groan loudly inside his car as the fabric of his jeans constricted against his tight bulge.

As your house came into view, goosebumps littered Nikki’s arms. Intense excitement coursed through his body. Nikki wanted his homecoming to be a surprise, so he had given you a fake return home date when you’d called him the week prior.

With suitcases beside him and other bags slung over his shoulders, Nikki quietly fished for his key, gently turning it in the knob before pushing the door open. The house was unusually quiet, and for a moment Nikki thought you may have gotten stuck at work, but when he heard the shower running as he approached your bedroom, his face broke out in a smirk.

He perched himself on the bed just as the water shut off, clasping his hands together between his legs. Any second now…

Nikki’s heart raced as you stepped in the room, body covered by a towel as water droplets slid down your body. Looking up from the floor, you immediately let out a scream, running forward and tackling Nikki to the bed.

“Oh, my god! Baby, what? You’re here!” The words came rushing out of your mouth, smushing together in one erratic sentence. Never in a million years did you expect Nikki to surprise you, but boy were you glad he did. “How is this possible?”

“I was always coming home today,” Nikki grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Sitting up off the bed, Nikki adjusted you against his lap. “How are you, baby girl?”

“A lot better now,” you admitted, the tears in the corners of your eyes betraying you. It had been so long since you last hugged your boyfriend, felt his skin, touched his hair, kissed his lips. The last few months had been so lonely with just you at home, trying to come up with new ways to distract yourself. You cooked, painted, learned how to sew, but none of those activities made the time pass. “I’ve been so lonely without you, Sixx. I know touring is your job, and no one supports you more than I do, you know that baby, but it’s been hard for me.”

Pulling you against his chest, Nikki buried his face in the crook of your neck, the fresh scent of soap filling his nostrils. “I’m here now, love. I promise. And I’m not going anywhere for a long time, so you’ll have me all to yourself.”

You hummed against Nikki’s head, the soft sound sending a rush of blood straight to his cock. God, he couldn’t wait to completely ravish you for hours. Seven months without sex? How the fuck had he managed that?

“I haven’t even been able to…you know…please myself properly,” you whispered, cheeks burning as Nikki’s jaw clenched. To your surprise, the towel wrapped around you had been peeled off by Nikki’s hands, and now you were perched against his jean-clad thigh, completely exposed. Your bare clit brushed against the rough fabric, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Don’t you worry,” Nikki said, lips brushing against yours as his hands squeezed your hips. “I’m gonna take good care of you.” His hands guided your hips in a slow back and forth motion, a harsh breath escaping your mouth. You held on to Nikki’s shoulders as your hips followed his motions, the feeling of the crisp material meshing perfectly with your delicate clit.

“That’s right, baby, keep that pretty pussy right here for me,” Nikki was an expert at dirty talk, always had been. He never held back either, always whispering in your ear with his low, gravelly voice. “How’s that feel, baby?”

A hushed moan, followed by a drawn out “fuck” was the only answer you could manage. It pleased Nikki to see you get off on just his thigh. It was something you’d never tried in the bedroom, but now it was the only thing Nikki wanted to do. He was fully clothed himself, but seeing his woman, his sweet, beautiful lady, naked and writhing as her pussy rubbed against his thigh was the best sight to come home to.

“Nikki, fuck, faster,” Pleading wasn’t something you found yourself doing much with Nikki. Occasionally, he’d make you beg for it, whether it be his fingers or his tongue, but for the most part, Nikki didn’t play games when it came to sex. “Please, please, faster.”

Nikki gripped your waist tighter, fingertips digging into your skin. Hard enough to keep you steady, but not enough to cause you pain. Your head fell back in total pleasure, a groan slipping past your mouth as that familiar ball of pressure built up in your lower stomach.

“Oh God, Nikki, I’m gonna come,” Pushing forward, desperate for a release, you rubbed your clit harder against his jeans, collapsing into Nikki’s arms as your orgasm rocked through your body. You rode out the high, juices sliding down your thigh and staining Nikki’s pants. You glanced up from the wet spot on Nikki’s pants, the lust in his eyes making you hot all over again. “Holy fuck, I needed that,” you said, flashing a satisfied smile. As you went to stand and clean off your legs, Nikki pulled you toward him.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” Desire dripped from Nikki’s voice as he pulled off his shirt, licking his lips as he lie on his back. “Come sit on your throne, princess.”

His voice alone sent jolts of electricity through your body. With shaky legs, you crawled up Nikki’s body, positioning your pussy at his mouth. A squeal fell from your lips as he pulled you down to his mouth, his warm tongue darting up and down your pussy skillfully. As Nikki feasted on your body, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently, which you knew he loved.

“The sweetest pussy I’ve ever had,” The quick flits of his tongue drove you wild, the vibrations from his voice sending you into a frenzy. “So fucking good, baby.”

Aside from today, the last time you had experienced an orgasm was the night before Nikki left for tour. It’d been a night of sensual foreplay and making love until three in the morning. After he left, you found it extremely hard to get off. Vibrators, dildos, and even your own fingers didn’t seem to do the trick. But now that Nikki was back, you were on the brink of your second orgasm.

“You ready to come for me, sweetheart?” Nikki asked, sucking your clit between his lips. Your face scrunched as Nikki flattened his tongue against your pussy one last time. “Come for me, baby.”

And his words had you come undone. Your legs shook violently as your second orgasm crashed over your body, whimpers leaving your lips and Nikki continued to lap at your clit. After what seemed to be a minute-long orgasm, you buckled next to Nikki, sweat coating your body.

“I am so glad you’re home,” you said, finally catching your breath.

Chuckling, Nikki gathered you in his arms, lovingly kissing your head. “Me too, pretty girl, me too. I’ve missed you,” he stated honestly. “And since I’m not going anywhere for a very long time,” Rolling on top of your body, Nikki kissed your lips before reaching a hand between your thighs, fingers gently rubbing your sore clit. “I’m going to please you. All. Night. Long.”

And as his fingers dipped between your slick folds, you knew that Nikki would be determined to give you one more orgasm until he was completely and utterly satisfied. And you? Well, you didn’t mind one bit. 

[treechangeseachange]

The return

It’s coming up to 3 months since we returned to our block and it took us 8 weeks to slow down. On the weekend we slowed down we enjoyed the first official Friday night catch up with our neighbours as the full moon rose. On Saturday we went out for brunch. No sport on Sunday morning meant a sleep in. I played handball with my boys for the first time ever in my life. Lamb shanks slow cooked on the wood heater. We squeezed in a late Sunday afternoon fishing trip. It took us 8 weeks to find some calm. We had forgotten how to do normal. I haven’t written for this blog since um wow December?! My leisure time since then has been extremely limited and when it occurred I prioritised my mental wellbeing and sleep.

This journey has brought me to the edge of my psychological and physical limitations. I watched my husband do a terminator style non stop renovation while trying also to commence a rebuild. His promises to take time off over Christmas dwindled to 2 days. There was so much to do. I helped with whatever jobs I was able to and then focussed on the household and occasionally, our boys. Midway through January this year we realised trying to work on both the renovation and the rebuild was insanity. The local real-estate market was booming. Post COVID, Sydney city dwellers realised they could put in a few days in the city then work from their coastal holiday pad the rest of the week. We decided to get our investment property, come bushfire haven, onto the market before the summer ended. We mapped out each remaining job and the days required to accomplish them. We calculated selling time, settlement time and remaining bank balance. What were need to do’s and what were optional extras. If everything went to plan, we could pay to get some work done at the block and make it habitable enough to move into. It was an extreme test of time, energy and resources.

It worked. We listed by the end of February, sold in three weeks and settled five weeks after settlement. I write that all in one glib sentence. Of course all of that only happened with considerable focus and effort. Life for the boys was hectic. 99% of their toys were packed and moved into storage weeks before the house went on the market. As the house neared completion we stressed about them damaging something. When the house was on the market we stressed about them getting things dirty - the walls, the windows or the cupboards. I banished them from the bathroom, they had to brush teeth in the laundry and shower outside. Luckily it was warm and didn’t rain much in those few weeks! Anyone who has sold a house while living in it knows how painful open homes are. The logistics and effort of cleaning and styling, while working full time from home, scheduling everything between work appointments, getting the dog out of the way and the boys to school, nearly broke me. Thankfully the selling process was short, but we packed a lot of opens into that time and by the end of it all, I had become a shouty, grouchy mum and wife. It was also a real highlight to hit menopause and bring some phenomenal hormonal energy into the mix. Phew.

Before we packed up and left I was lucky enough to have a week away with the boys. My fully wired self hit Melbs and my family gave me refuge and forgave my intensity. We managed some fun and the change of scenery was a big relief. Husband, however, stayed behind to work on the temporary shed home. Holiday behind me, I returned to packup and clean and polish the house for the financial return of our lives. Literally.

Can you then imagine our triumphant and spectacular return to our block bathed in happiness and light? Um well perhaps instead picture this - we arrived exhausted to an unpowered, work in progress temporary residence in the middle of a mice plague and endured 200ml of heavy rain in four days leaving us surrounded by mud. Happy to catch the rain in our tank? I wish! The new tank leaked 8000L the week before we moved, and only our neighbour’s spare tank loan meant we had any water at all. But being so small, it overflowed and made even more mud. The heavy rain was so loud on the tin roof it frequently woke the kids in the night (who then woke us), mice ran across the floor, huntsmen spiders dropped from the ceiling. With nowhere really to unpack things, cooking became like the biggest ever memory game, which box were the bowls in? Where did I pack the cutlery? The rain delayed our solar power install so for 10 days we lived out of an esky and by torchlight. We both kept working full time, getting the boys to school, after school sport commitments and then husband kept building after he got home and into the night. After a week of stress and chaos we knew something had to give, fortunately husband could take time off work to focus on our build and family life.

Fast forward to now. The financial pressure of the summer has eased. The temporary living quarters are functional and steadily improving. We have a beautiful wood heater. Our off grid solar system is powering us even during these short winter days. I have more kitchen cupboards than ever before, plus a dishwasher! I have hung up my clothes in a full wardrobe for the first time in nearly four years. The boys each have clean new wardrobes. Their separate rooms are still being built so they are in what will be our room which is insulated and wall paneled. We can cope with an outside shower and toilet. My husband is a legend.

What’s it like actually being back? I confess I was nervous about my own and the boys emotions. Eldest son is extremely happy to be back. Youngest son has taken time to adjust but that has more been due to his fear of the dark. The noises of the bush are unfamiliar and there are no streetlights out here! There has only been one time where a prebushfire memory overwhelmed me. Every person’s bushfire experience and recovery is unique. Unlike many others we are fortunate have the opportunity to not have to build on the exact footprint of the old place and I think this is psychologically helpful. It’s not the same space, and with some trees dead and gone the landscape is altered, its a slightly different perspective. The boys are older now, so our lifestyle is different too. Slowly we are finding a new rhythm on our land. The boys are absolutely loving being back on their bikes on bush tracks.

I was excited to resume my morning walks, although maybe not as excited the dog! He’s happy to have his off-lead roam again. But the first week of walking I found tough, the burnt and recovering state forest I traverse didn’t bring me the joy it used to. In the heavily logged areas where only isolated saplings were left unlogged, they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire or they didn’t have community trees to share nutrients through their roots to support recovery. The undergrowth is now the canopy and is booming with all the extra sunlight but when I look at it, all I see is fire hazard. Then as the weeks went by, my view softened, I recognise the bush is healing like me. I am appreciating small wonders of nature. A spider’s web highlighted with morning dew or the fascination of new plants thriving. There are trees that have fully recovered, others seem to be doing well, and there is much green in the landscape to enjoy.

On my morning walk I also see which animals are about in the night from what they leave behind. There is at least one very busy wombat! We see wallabies reasonably often and last week one morning I found big roo prints in the clay right near our place. We hear a boobook owl calling most nights and more frogs chirping croaking from the gully than I ever remember. Which now makes sense, we definitely were in drought for some years prior to the fires and the creek has this year been running for months. Less exciting is hearing foxes at night, my son especially dislikes their eerie calls. In daytime the bird life is altered. We are down to one lyrebird, there used to be two with adjacent territories battling loudly with their extraordinary mimicry. But at least there is one, how a ground bird survived I can’t imagine. The yellow robins aren’t around us now, we have wrens in the cleared spaces and in the lush shrubs busy brown gerygones dart and chirp. A shrike thrush has made a nest in our bushfire remains pile, her song is piercing and wonderful. Rarely are the yellow crested black cockatoos here now. This past weekend we did see two circling wedge tailed eagles the silent assassins of the sky wheeling high over the gully with that phenomenal wingspan.

Surprisingly my greatest source of happiness in these first few months being back has come from the sky. Unobstructed by buildings, the sky feels bigger in the bush. I’m loving the late winter sunrises. My very favourite time is just after the sun has risen when the horizontal sun rays set tops of the trees bright orange. Those are magical minutes of golden tinged trees. The sunsets. The stars. The moon. the sky has been a revelation and a source of happiness. Maybe because I’m spending more time outside I notice it more. Seeing glittering stars through the steam of a hot outdoor shower makes the cold walk inside completely worth it!

Slowly I am regaining my sense of gratitude for this place. The quiet. The privilege of not seeing another house. Having no curtains and that not mattering. Not worrying about noise and neighbours. Lack of street lights at night.

All of a sudden things aren’t hectic and we are settling in. It still amazes me after 6 moves in 5 years how intense moving is and then how imperceptibly things transition to not being new anymore. Normalcy sneaks up on me every time. Clearly this isn’t really normal but we’re enjoying this new start in our old place.

[writersrealmbts]

Shattered Pieces: Glue

Description: Kittens and Cubs grow quickly, and life goes on faster than you would like, but you still get to enjoy the ride.

Warnings: If this doesn’t destroy you a little, I give up as a writer.

Posted: 03/16/2020

Tags: hybrid bts, yoongi x reader

Mostly fluff with a surprise: 4,288 words

A/N: Last Part!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ve been really stuck on this for a while, and I just wanted to finish this series so I could move on. So, I hope you guys like it and please let me know what you think of it!!!!!

You checked the clock again, then shrugged at Hoseok. “If they’re not back in half an hour we might have to send a search party.”

He nodded. “I know they thought to do this because Jimin used to catch the turkey every year, but Jimin spent days getting the turkey, and he mostly rounded up turkeys and then picked the one he wanted and released the others before humanely killing the turkey. A couple days before he planned to cook it.”

You rolled your eyes. “They were determined.”

“Predators,” Jungkook sighed, dramatic. He jumped back as you slapped at him for sneaking bites of the stuffing that you were preparing for tomorrow.

Jin hummed softly. “The babes are awake.”

You smiled and followed him to the nursery, checking on your coloring babes (all but Jihun—who had been dragged along despite his reservations) before getting your bitty babes who were still roly-polying in their separate cribs.

Yerin was babbling a little.

Cheolmin was sucking on his hand, but his eyes fell onto you and smiled.

Soyoung was barely awake.

You picked up Cheolmin, cuddling him close with a purr. “Look at my sleepy boy.”

Jin had Yerin, changing her diaper while she made various babble noises. “I still can’t believe they went hunting on Christmas Eve Day. There’s so much to do! I know Namjoon hasn’t finished Christmas shopping yet.”

“He’ll realize his mistake sooner or later.” You shrugged a little, and rubbing Soyoung’s belly as the kitten slowly blinked awake. She had mostly black fur like Yoongi, and you honestly thought she was the spitting image of her appa if it weren’t for the white stripe on the back of her left ear.

Yerin had your coloring.

Cheolmin was mixed between the two of you, but he had his dad’s eyes.

Yerin had your mother’s eyes, and sometimes when she blinked up at you….

You smiled softly as you stepped to the side for Hoseok to pick up Soyoung.

“So soft,” Jin whispered, nuzzling one of Yerin’s ears. “Baby fur is the best. Misuk’s baby fur is growing out.”

“I know, she’s getting big.” You sighed in resignation. “Soon we won’t have baby-soft fur to play with on her.”

“Terrifying,” Hoseok said, shuddering. “They’re growing too quickly.”

“Jihun reminds me of Jimin when we first met him,” Jin said, smiling.

Jungkook grinned and nodded. “I know. I found a picture of us from back then.”

“You’ll have to show me,” You said, pushing away the dissatisfaction of not being able to meet your cubs real parents. It was driving you crazy, because you couldn’t even watch their home videos because no one knew where they were. They’d been searching for the past three weeks because Jihun asked about it at Thanksgiving and all of them were certain there were home videos but none of them were certain where they were. You figured you’d probably find them the moment you started looking, because that’s a mom’s superpower and you’ve had that power for a long time. You just hadn’t had the chance since the kids were especially clingy ever since you’d had the kittens. You didn’t mind, it wasn’t an unhealthy clingyiness, but the addition of the milky scent on you made you a little more motherly and comforting to them. And Jihun needed a lot of help with his homework lately.

“Moooommm! We’re back,” Jihun sounded desperate and distressed.

You handed Cheolmin to Jungkook and darted out, freezing and covering your mouth.

All of them were filthy. Muddy, covered in leaves, dirt smeared on their faces and they definitely didn’t catch a turkey.

Jihun looked like he’d been dropped in a lake before the mud and leaves, his hair dripping.

Yoongi winced. “We, uh, we fought a muddy hill?”

“And thought coming in the back door was a good idea? Go around to the front. I’ll get some towels, Jihun.” You ushered them back out, darting to the linen closet and grabbing the beach towels for them. Your baby was probably chilled to the bone, and you didn’t want to send him back out, but you really didn’t want to deal with mud on the carpet.

Jihun was shivering but you quickly wrapped him in a towel. “Cold.”

“We’ll get you in a bath, baby,” You said comfortingly, helping him out of his shoes.

He nodded.

You managed to scoop him up (getting objecting sounds from all six men) and carried him to the nearest bathroom, setting him down and running a bath. “I’ll go get you some clean clothes and a towel, okay? Hoseok will be here to help you wash behind your ears. And your tail.”

He made a strangled sound, but nodded.

You kissed a clean spot on his forehead, then tested the water. “Alright, test the water before you get in, but I think it’s okay right now.”

He nodded again, shivering out of his clothes as you got out a big fluffy towel and let Hoseok slip past you.

The other boys were carefully traipsing to the other bathrooms, but you quickly passed them to get to Jihun’s room and grab him clean clothes, opting for his favorite pajamas since it was toward the evening anyway.

Hoseok took the clothes, gesturing that Jihun was half-asleep.

You nodded and went to check on the rest of your babies, seeing they were still coloring contentedly and talking to the kittens like they would understand.

Then you hurried upstairs to check on your mate.

Taehyung was pouting at the bathroom door. “Oh, come on, Namjoonie!”

You snorted and headed further, guessing Yoongi went right to the bathroom the others didn’t use—the one in Jimin’s old room.

He was already out of the shower and in boxers when you slipped in, but winced as he saw your face. “Yeah, I know, that was dangerous. I didn’t mean for that to happen, and we got him back here in record time.”

“No more pretending you know how to hunt. Stick to fishing, you’re better at it. Anyway, we figured this would happen and bought a turkey. It’s already brining.” You shook your head at the pile of muddy clothes. “You guys are so doing the laundry.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll gather up the muddy clothes and take care of them. How were the other kids?”

“Angels,” You replied, hearing the relief in it and laughing a bit. “Heirannie is teaching Jowoon to color in between the lines, not very successfully, but he’s actually improved throughout the day. Misuk is using the magic markers so she can’t make a mess.”

“They’re growing up so fast,” He whispered.

“Soyoung looks so much like you,” You whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His skin was still warm from his shower, and it felt nice.

He purred a little, seeming embarrassed at how pleased he was by that. “Yerin looks more like you.”

“Has your hair, my mom’s eyes, and my fur,” You whispered. “But your adorable nose and mouth.”

He melted a little more under your touch, a mess of purring and fur. “I just want this time to last forever.”

You laughed softly. “I do too. We’ll keep them young forever, you and me.”

He laughed with you, hugging you more tightly. “You and me.”

——

You didn’t keep them young.

Jihun had been so excited to go to school. He’d woken up an hour before everyone else, he’d eaten breakfast and gotten ready for school, and then waited on teh couch for everyone else to get up, asking the first person—you, getting up to take care of the triplets who were two years old at the time—if it was time to leave yet.

You’d gotten him to help you with the triplets to distract him.

The only moment he seemed to be reluctant was when his siblings started crying at his leaving them. Heiran was especially inconsolable.

But Hoseok, Yoongi, and Yourself ushered Jihun out the door, and took him to school.

You and Hoseok cried on the way back to the house because Jihun was growing up so quickly and he was so independent.

Yoongi was quiet, but he spent an extra long time with all of the younger cubs that day.

Jihun had come home, quiet, eating his snack and cuddling up next to you without a word. Apparently not having said a word to Namjoon and Taehyung except to say hello and get into the car.

When he finally did say something, he murmured that he’d missed everyone here and that everyone else already had friends.

Seokjin had chuckled softly, then pulled Jihun into his arms. “Your father felt the same way. But he met Taehyung. And Taehyung introduced him to us. Just do your best, be nice to the other kids—”

“But if they bite you, bite back,” Yoongi muttered, earning glares and scoffs from Hoseok and Taehyung.

Seokjin just leveled him with an unamused look before turning back to Jihun. “And eventually you’ll meet some good friends. And if you don’t…well, we love you and we’ll find you sports or something you can play to make friends that way.” He stroked Jihun’s hair.

Jihun looked up at him, then shifted so he could hug the bunny-hybrid, face in the crook of his neck like he did as a cub. “If I don’t like it….”

“Then you can go back to homeschooling,” You agreed softly. “But I want you to give it a chance, Jihunnie.” You stroked his tail.

It flicked and he peeked at you to smile. “Okay, Mom. I’ll try. But…” His nose wrinkled. “Are we sure I’m in the right classes?”

“Oh?”

He slipped out of Jin’s arms, and grabbed his backpack, pulling out his school books and passing them to you.

You looked over it and sighed internally. The cubs ate up their lessons faster than you could come up with them, and Jihun was especially attentive in his schoolwork. Which meant he’d surpassed his classmates. But the schools insisted that he stay with his age group. “Well, we’ll figure something out, okay?”

He nodded, curling up into Hoseok’s lap with a soft chuff before falling asleep.

And he did make friends, quickly growing popular among his classmates, and yet he still spent most of his time at home with his siblings. He would go to their houses now and then, and he would have them for outdoor playdates, easily explaining that his siblings got sick really easily.

And he joined the soccer team, quickly becoming one of the star players.

Heiran was growing quickly too. She was active and playful and fast. So fast. She picked up languages like they were the triplets blocks, and while she still clung to you, and her family, she also was confident and strangely self-assured. She laughed easily and was excited for the day she could finally go to school—but didn’t do nearly as well there, reverting to her muteness and asking to be pulled out after the first three months. She blossomed again once she was home, though she still bounced back and forth between mute and loquacious.

Jowoon didn’t even want to try public school, but he joined an outdoor adventure club and quickly made his own friends. He was a bit of a home-body, having been cuddly all throughout his childhood and he definitely was still your baby. He was thoughtful, often sitting and asking Namjoon questions for hours after you would run out of answers, until Yoongi would step in and get him to help with some chore or other. Jowoon loved helping fix things, and there was a bet between Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok about what his future profession would be.

Misuk was probably the sassiest of all of the cubs, extremely independent as an elementary-aged cub, and oddly protective of the triplets. She had strong opinions, and was so expressive that sometimes you all had to stop yourselves from laughing when she needed to be scolded for talking back because she was so…confident in her decisions. She hated messes, and was picky about her clothes in the cutest way. She would only get messy if she was in her messy clothes. She was the hardest to keep away from her siblings friends, because she wanted to be with them but it was still dangerous given her immune system.

And then there were your triplets.

All of them were doted on by the cubs, and they didn’t mind staying away from outsiders for their siblings sake—not really even noticing because they were too busy listening to Jihun read a story to them. Or the girls would be playing with dolls while the boys were outside playing soccer.

Heiran bounced between both groups on those days (not that they were always separated, they especially all loved swimming together—though your kittens were definitely not fans at first and Soyoung definitely wouldn’t swim unless her oldest brother and Uncle Taehyung were also swimming), and she was usually on one team while the boys were on the other because she was fast and fierce. Everytime you saw her win with an astonishing amount of ferocity, you were reminded of your first Thanksgiving with the cubs, when she batted every kill-spot on Taehyung.

The scariest moment was when she found one of Jihun’s friends inside the house—with a cold. Granted, he’d only run in to use the bathroom, and with your permission.

But she’d literally dragged him out of the house with a growl (he was taller than her and weighed more and she wasn’t struggling), and the way she snarled at Jowoon had your fur rising and your kittens hiding in Yoongi’s arms while you had to calm her down.

She hadn’t even been thirteen.

Time flies too fast.

Jin and Jungkook lived in the carraige-house, never too far, but sometimes retreating to themselves. They were a mess, but a pretty happy mess that were actively involved in the cubs lives.

The other boys had their own lives, still coming around as often as they could—especially Hoseok, who eventually become some part of the strange relationship that Jungkook and Jin had.

You didn’t care to ask as long as your cubs and kits were okay.

Taehyung ended up mating with a sweet dog-hybrid, and they had pups some five years after your kits were born.

Namjoon ended up going overseas to open another division of his and Taehyung’s company, leaving for a few months at a time, before coming back for another few months to catch up with his favorite tigers, kittens, and pups. Eventually, he brought home a mate from his trip, who melded right into the family.

And Yoongi somehow started a revolution that established so much protection for humans that their numbers started rising again while still being the most active father/father-figure anyone could ask for. He was often exhausted, but you liked to think that you rewarded him well for his hard work.

———

“I can’t see,” Yerin whined, going up on her tiptoes again.

Namjoon scooped her up, putting her on his shoulders. “See him now?”

“Yes! Jihun!” She called.

Jihun turned and grinned, waving before signaling her to be quiet.

It wasn’t long before the Cheolmin and Soyoung were perched on Seokjin’s and Taehyung’s shoulders—respectively—to watch, though Soyoung did so with her hands over her ears from the noise of the crowd. She didn’t like noisy places, usually clinging and hiding with Yoongi or whoever was closest.

Jowoon and Misuk could see a little better, having both better positions, and standing on the chairs.

Heiran could see without standing on a chair, though she did have to go up on her tip-toes.

Both girls were carefully surrounded by yourself and the guys, having gotten more than their fair share of their mother’s looks, and getting quite a few lingering looks. They were already increasingly careful around their own brother’s friends and Misuk was only eleven.

Yoongi sighed. “This has to be a dream. He can’t be graduating high-school next week.”

You just smiled, looking at your family, then back at your oldest. “What are you going to do when it’s Heiran? Or Jowoon? Or Misuk—”

“Stop,” he grumbled. “You’re making me sad.”

You purred, taking his hand. “Just enjoy it, you softy. He’s valedictorian. And he wants to be a doctor.”

“He’s been taking college classes for the past two years, does it really count?” Heiran asked casually, but her gaze was proudly fixed on her brother as he stepped up to the podium to make a speech that had been a long time coming. It wasn’t his speech as valedictorian, but it was a speech his teachers had asked to give after he turned it in for a class.

You shushed her, grateful you didn’t have to worry about filming since Jungkook definitely had that covered.

Jihun—looking every bit like his father, with a certain something of his mother in his smile—gazed over the crowd after his initial greeting. “Next Friday marks the day that all of us have been waiting for. It’s a day of transition. It marks the end of one part of our lives, and the beginning of another as we leave the safety of this institution and enter the world of our parents and teachers. This can be terrifying, the unknown can be terrifying. My life…” He stopped, looking down and then quickly looking up, seeking you all out again and nodding. “My life has been filled with days of transition. Some that I don’t remember, such as the day I first became an older brother, and others that I do. I remember the day that I stopped thinking my life was normal, a day I know my family wishes I could forget, when myself and my mother were kidnapped and rescued by my father. I had never given thought to the fact that my mother was human, or what my species even meant for myself—and I didn’t understand until much later. I remember when I transitioned from having two parents that loved me and my siblings so completely, to being an orphan.”

Yoongi’s grip tightened on your hand, and you could see Heiran glance at you in the corner of your eye, but your gaze was fixed on Jihun.

“I remember my Uncles—friends of my parents, the only thing close to family that they had—desperately trying to fill the void my parents had left. The day my mom, my adoptive mom, came into our lives and made us into a family again. I remember wondering if my sister would ever talk again after losing our parents, and the pure joy that came when she did. I remember deciding that my mom could be just that, my mom. Finding out that those responsible for the death of my parents finally paid the price. Becoming an adopted brother. Watching my family change, and grow. Being able to finally go to school with other kids my age and make friends outside of my siblings. There have been so many days where my life has changed so completely, even if it was just from a change in my own perspective. In the way I viewed things. Our lives will always be filled with unknowns, but…because of my life before now, I’m not afraid of what the future holds. I know that my family will always catch me if I fall. I want to be a doctor, and I know that the road ahead of me will be hard. I know there will be times when I get scolded because I haven’t been taking care of myself—because I was raised by the most selfless people I will ever know. I know they’ll catch me when I do fall, because I watched them catch each other.”

He met your gaze across the crowd. “We are entering a world that has been changed by those that came before us. A world where humans are more than just…a means to an end. A world my parents died trying to make, and that my family continued to fight for—all while protecting us from those who opposed it. We are the next generation, and we have the ability to further that change, and make the world even better for those that come after. To learn from those that came before us. We will fall, and we will rise again. And we might fall a lot. But to change the world, and to help others…sometimes we’ll have to step back and take care of ourselves first.” He smiled a little to himself. “We help when we’re healthy, we rest if we’re sick, but if there’s a fire—we jump in and help as much as we can. And that doesn’t mean we get ourselves killed, Jeremy.”

His class started laughing and heckling Jeremy.

Not that your family wasn’t laughing, you all were familiar with Jeremy and the kid sometimes lacked common sense in a comical, life-threatening sort of way.

“I’ve had everything and nothing in my life,” Jihun continued after they calmed down. “I don’t know what’s next, but we’re going into this world with everything this school and our parents could provide us. Not everyone is that lucky. I want us all to leave here, and do at least one good thing. Just one. I know I can never surpass the things my adoptive family have done, I can never hope to be half as good as they are, but they make me want to try. To try and honor my deceased family. To set a good example for my younger siblings. To take care of myself and others. To gather up the shattered pieces and put them together again, just like my Mom did for me and my siblings, and my Uncles. That, which is far easier said than done, is my impossible dream that I hope to work toward everyday with my family to guide and support me. That is the one thing that I learned here, that I will never forget.”

You stood there, breathless as the audience clapped for him. Your little cub, all grown up.

Cheolmin was on the ground again, and he tugged on your sleeve. “Mommy, he’s adopted?”

Heiran started laughing, but she was crying as well. She tugged the 9-year-old into a hug. “We’ll explain later, Cheol.”

You ran a hand over her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Jihun slipped in, taller than you now, taller than Yoongi. A young man, only shadows of that seven-year-old cub you first met evident in the way he looked at you.

You squeezed his hand, knowing he was out of words. Knowing exactly what he was saying.

Yerin practically ran into his leg, hugging it with her ginger tail lashing playfully, looking up at him with a grin. “You talk pretty.”

Jihun started laughing, scooping her up easily since she was tiny (even smaller than Soyoung) and he definitely had the musculature befitting a white tiger. “Thanks, Yerin. You’re always pretty. So is Soyoung, and Misuk, and Heirannie,” He added quickly when her mouth opened, then he rubbed his nose against hers. “And Mom.”

She giggled and kept hugging his neck.

Soyoung was falling asleep on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Let’s get home,” Yoongi said.

Sitting at home later with your cubs and kittens, and the six men who had unknowingly changed the course of every life in that house, watching home videos that ranged from when Jihun was just a newborn cub, to a couple of years ago, you figured that even though it might not be the same as before, the shattered pieces of all of your lives had come together to create something new and even more beautiful.

And (unless you could bring their parents back, without losing your life with Yoongi, and your cubs and kits) you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Jimin woke with a start, checking on his precious mate before rushing down the hall to check on all of his cubs, then Yoongi and Seokjin—who had just moved in that day. The other guys would be moving in later that week.

He shook himself and got a glass of water, taking it back upstairs.

She was awake, and she looked at him sleepily. “You okay?”

“Bad dream. Weird dream. We died.”

She hummed shifting and sitting up. “Just us? Or the cubs—”

“Cubs were fine, the guys took care of them. They had help, but…everything worked out.” He set the glass down and crawled back into the bed with her.

She was humming a song now, stroking his cheek. “Oh?”

He nodded. “That meeting. I think it’s a good thing we didn’t go to it.”

She smiled. “Who helped them?”

“She was a teacher. Cat hybrid. Her and Yoongi ended up becoming mates.”

She nodded. “Well, maybe we should finally do as we’ve been discussing and get Jihun a tutor?”

Jimin nodded. “I’m starting to struggle.”

“Then we’ll look into it in the morning, and increase security otherwise?” She asked, sounding only a little uncertain.

He chuffed lovingly at her. “You’re so perfect.”

She just grinned at him, perfectly irresistable.

“Eomma?” Jihun whispered softly from the doorway.

She sat up again. “Jihun? Everything okay?”

He ran in and climbed onto the bed, snuggling between Jimin and her. He sighed in relief. “I had nightmares again.”

Jimin pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re safe, kiddo. I’m not letting any of you go.”

–

Previous Part.   Masterpost.  Masterlist.  

Tagging: @kimmie113080 , @jungshaking, @ephemeral-mindset, @young-yellkie​, @alex–awesome–22​, @pearylove​, @bryvada​, @missmoxxiesworld​, @knjhe​, 

[superpaperclip]

I Don’t Wanna Wait In Vain

My first Red White and Royal Blue fic!! Thank you to the discord who inspired me and encouraged me! Read on AO3 here.

When Alex arrived home a few hours earlier than scheduled, the last thing he expected to see was his roommate making out with some boy on their couch. Henry’s hands were tangled in his dark hair, one leg thrown over his hips. As soon as Henry caught sight of Alex in the doorway, he sprang back from the guy, pushing him away. 

“Alex! I- I didn’t expect you home so soon! I- um- this is, uh, Aiden. Aiden, this is my roommate Alex.” Henry’s eyes darted between Alex and Aiden as Alex felt his face heat up. 

“I’m just gonna… go to my room.” muttered Alex, and hurried past the couch. Shutting the door a little too hard, he sank to the ground and let his head fall back with a thump. Why was his heart racing? Why was there a lump in his throat and a knot in his stomach? He knew Henry was gay, and he didn’t have a problem with it. At least, he didn’t think he did. He certainly didn’t have a problem with Liam or his boyfriend Spencer. He didn’t have a problem with the LGBT people in his classes. So why did he have a problem with Henry?

He heard voices rising in volume on the other side of the door, one that he recognized as Henry’s, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Eventually, he heard the front door slam and Henry groan. There was a knock on Alex’s door. 

“Hey, uhm, Aiden is gone if you wanna… y’know… come out.” Alex nodded, before realizing Henry couldn’t see him. Why did he feel like his chest was lighter and a weight was lifted off his shoulders? He had too many questions and not enough answers, so he decided to do what he always did when he needed a distraction- throw himself into his work. Opening his laptop and spreading out his books and papers, he started on an essay. 

He was startled out of his concentration by another knock on his door and Henry informing him that it was dinnertime. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was almost 6:30. Alex finished the paragraph he was typing and closed his laptop. Leaving his room, he joined Henry on their couch, tucking one foot under his other leg. The TV was quietly playing in the background, some cooking show that Alex didn’t care for. His mind was cloudy and unfocused, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Henry kissing some guy on their couch. 

“So. Who was that?” Alex asks. 

“Aiden? He’s… no one.”

“No one? Is that why you were sucking face with him on our couch?” Alex’s voice had a bit more vitriol than he intended. Still, he didn’t back down, even when he saw Henry cringe. 

“Erm… yes. He was… no one. Really, Alex, just let it go.” For some reason, that just made Alex angrier. 

“Let it go? I’d rather not come home and see that. Can you at least do it in your room?”

“That's what we were planning to do. Sorry for not being able to predict that you would get home early!” That just clouded Alex’s thoughts more. In the back of his mind, he registered sharp points of pain in his shin. Looking down, he saw he had been digging his nails into his leg, most likely leaving crescent-shaped marks. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes until the doorbell rang, and Alex went to get the pizza. When he returned, Henry had put on A New Hope. Alex forced himself to focus on the movie and not the thick tension between them as they ate their dinner. They were both uncharacteristically quiet, offering no comments or quips. 

***

The silence and tension continued for a week, Henry bringing home various men and Alex trying in vain to ignore it. Eventually, Alex had enough. He knew he couldn’t fix this himself. He needed help. After laying in his bed for hours and thinking of how badly he fucked things up with Henry, he rolled over and grabbed his phone, texting Nora before he could talk himself out of it. 

>Skype lunch this weekend? I need to talk to you.

>Only if you’re buying.

Can June come?

>Sure.

***

That Sunday, Alex eats lunch in his room instead of on the couch like usual. After taking a bite of his burger, he plugs in his headphones and opens skype on his laptop, calling Nora. After two rings she picks up. Straight to the point, Nora asks what’s bothering him. Sighing, Alex explains his problem.

“So Henry and I have been roommates for years, right, and I’ve know he’s gay the whole time. But last week, I got home early and he was making out with some guy on the couch. And then I realized that he’s never actually told me about any of his crushes or boyfriends, so I told him he’s welcome to talk about that stuff with me, and he said he didn’t have a love life and that the guys he’s brought over don’t actually mean anything.  I don’t know what’s happening.” 

Nora and June laugh so hard Alex has to rip his headphones off. Faintly, he can make out the words ‘Alex’ and ‘idiot’, and then more laughter. It takes several minutes for both of them to calm down, during which Alex huffs at them to stop multiple times. It only makes them laugh harder. Eventually, Nora is the first to speak.

“Alright, let’s go back to the guy on the couch. What happened there? Like, walk us through what happened when you walked in.” Alex frowns, but explains the events from when he walked into the apartment that day. That just prompted another bout of laughter from June and Nora. After sharing a look with Nora, June was the first to talk.

“Alex, what you’re describing- the lump in your throat, your stomach churning, your heart racing- are jealousy. You’re fucking jealous!” Nora and June smirked at each other, then looked expectantly at Alex.

“What do I have to be jealous of? I don’t want to kiss Aiden. I don’t even know him.” At that, the women groaned in unison. 

“You’re jealous of Aiden, not Henry. Come on, you’ve wanted to kiss him practically since you saw him. And he wants to kiss you too.” Nora states matter-of-factly.

“Hold on. Back up. I don’t like Henry, and he doesn’t like me, at least not like that. We’re just friends. And I’m straight.” But Alex’s voice wavered, his mind already running through his and Henry’s relationship. The day they met and how Alex’s first thought was that his new roommate was very handsome, the light feeling in his chest when Henry laughs at a joke he told, and the fire in his gut when he saw Henry kissing Aiden. Then his mind wandered to his high school years- trying not to look at other guys in the locker room, thinking about large hands and wide shoulders when he was in the shower, and whatever went on between him and Liam. At the thought of Liam, Alex quickly ended the call and shut his laptop. He had a lot to think about.

***

Alex didn't pay attention to anything that afternoon, nor did he get any sleep that night. He had been too wired to fall asleep, wandering through his memories and picking out the moments that, in retrospect, he should’ve recognized as not being very straight. By the time the thin rays of dawn were filtering through his curtains, he had come up with a list.

One. He’s not as straight as he thought he was.

Two. He’s attracted to Henry, and probably has been since they moved in together.

Three. He really wants to kiss Henry.

Four. He can’t stand seeing Henry kiss other people. 

Five. According to Nora, Henry also likes him. 

Now he just has to figure out what to do with that information. He went through his day on autopilot, not retaining any information from his classes. His professors droned on about laws and their applications, but Alex’s mind was on Henry. Henry’s soft blond hair, Henry’s bright blue eyes, the way Henry gets excited when he talks about literature or LGBT history. His strong hands, his laugh, the way he comes out of his shell when they’re together. 

When he pushed the door of the apartment open that afternoon, Henry was once again on their couch, this time curled up with a book against the armrest. Something by Jane Austen, Alex guesses. Steeling his nerves, he sits on the other side of the couch and clears his throat. Wordlessly, Henry looks up from his book and raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve been an asshole lately.” Alex apologizes, hoping he looks as guilty as he feels. Thankfully, Henry closes the book and puts it down. 

“Frankly, yeah, you have.” 

“Yeah, um, I was because I was… jealous.” Multiple emotions flashed across Henry’s face, including something Alex couldn’t identify, before he schooled his features again. 

“What do you have to be jealous of? You could get girls if you wanted. You tell me about all the girls who hit on you. I’m sure any one of them would be happy to sleep with you.”

“No, I’m…” Alex sighed, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to. “I'm not jealous of you for how much you, ahem, get. I’m jealous… of Aiden. And… everyone else you bring home.” He could see Henry trying to wrap his mind around Alex’s confession. 

“I, um, talked to Nora and June about me being an asshole, and they helped me realize that it was… jealousy. I thought about it, and I’m not as straight as I thought.” Henry’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“So… what are you trying to tell me?” Alex groaned and put his head in his hands. This was harder than he thought it would be. Then again, he had never confessed his love to his roommate after realizing he’s not straight. 

“I’m bisexual and I like you. As more than a friend.” Alex said in one breath. As soon as he said the last word, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Slowly, he looked up and saw Henry was staring at him, his eyes wide.

“You’re- I- What? Wait, really? I- I didn’t-”

“So, um, I get it if you’re not into me like that, but I just needed to get it off my chest.” Alex rubbed the back of his neck, self conscious of Henry’s eyes on him.

“Are you really that thick? I’ve been flirting with you since we met. I just had no hope because, y’know, you’re straight. Or at least, I thought you were.” A blush spread across Henry’s face, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

“So, what was Aiden?”

“A pathetic attempt to get over you. Really, he was no one.” Alex let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. They sat in silence, Henry shifting in his seat and Alex running his finger along the key around his neck. Alex was the first to speak.

“So what are we now? I mean, I’d like to, y’know, be with you…”

“I want that too!” Henry quickly interjected. Alex’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of dating Henry, of kissing him, of doing other things with him.

“So, I guess we can just, like, see where this goes?”

“Yeah, I think that would be best.” As soon as the words left Henry’s mouth, Alex realized how close they were. They had slowly been moving towards each other, and now they were almost touching. If he just leaned forward a bit, Alex realized with a start, he could press their lips together. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked breathlessly. Henry nodded. Their lips met, and it was perfect.

[fiction-in-my-blood]

A Dark Past Eisuke’s Side (Eisuke x MC) Continuation

So I’ve had these prepared for a while now and have ideas for the other guys in kbbtb. It won’t be the same concept but similar. This one’s a little shorter, but I don’t want to drag it out longer than needs be. You can find the first part from MC’s side here. 

Trigger Warnings: Miscarriage, angst, jealousy

~~~~~~

Suddenly, I'm woken up by the sound of running. My eyes dart open and I find that ____ isn't beside me, where she should be. I frowned, noticing the light to the bathroom on. It wasn't long before I heard groaning of someone throwing up. I sat up, concerned about where ____ was and walked towards the door that was opened a gap.

Through the crack, I saw my girlfriend hunched over the toilet bowl. I cringed at the sight of her hurling her lunch up, but overall I was concerned. We hadn't had seafood lately, it couldn't be food poisoning, we always ate the same meals.

As I pondered on why she was this sick, I heard her whimpering. Returning my gaze to her, I noticed her shoulders shaking as cries escaped from her mouth. It took everything I had to not run to her, but I thought it would be best to wait for the morning and ask her how she is then.

~~~~~~

The next time I woke up, ____ was asleep beside me, wrapped in my arms. Knowing the night she had, I skillfully removed my embrace without waking her up and got ready for work.

"You," I called ____'s friend as she emerged from the breakroom.

"Y-Yes, sir?" She panicked, straightening her back to attention.

"How has ____ been lately?" I kept my expression stern so it wouldn't alarm her to any care I may have. She looked a little surprised by my request before she answered out of fear.

"Sh-She said she's felt fine, sir. But she hasn't been able to sleep." She nodded, standing there until I dismissed her.

Worrying about ____ was all I could do while I worked around the hotel. In the afternoon, Kisaki approached me.

"Hey, have you talked to ____ today?" His face was too worried for my liking, but I explained that I hadn't.

"Why are you worried about my girl?" I scowled at him and he quickly laughed at my evident jealously.

"I just invited her to play a game but she ran in the opposite direction! Normally she joins in." He smirked, probably thinking about the embarrassing scenarios he and Baba get her into when I'm not there to protect her. I scowl at him. "Come on, boss! I'm only joking around. Just keep an eye out, would ya?" He quickly left to his own work, but I couldn't brush it off the same way he had. What could be going on with her?

~~~~~~

The night I came back from the auction, ____ was already asleep when I traipsed in. She's normally awake when I get home. I frown, peering into her face as she faced away from my side of the bed. Her expression of screwed up in hurt, tears falling down her face. It pained me to see her so distraught even in her sleep. I rubbed her cheek, cupping her chin in my hand as I kneeled beside the bed.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" I felt myself get angry, annoyed she's being stubborn about herself. I thought we had gotten passed the stage where she doesn't trust me? But, maybe she just doesn't want me to worry?

I spend most of the night waiting for her to wake up. She doesn't get up in the middle of the night as she had previously, but maybe the fact that I'm holding her the entire time, her stomach is eased. Once I had started holding her, her expression eased as well, but I was still too nervous to allow myself to sleep. I watched her shoulder slowly rise and fall as she breathed. When her fringe fell into her face and tickled her , I brushed it away as her nose twitched. I rarely had time for this at the moment, I was making major strives for the expansion of the auction, but it was nice to watch her with her guard down now and again.

When she did wake up, I wasted no time in trying to find out what had been wrong with her lately. When she brushed off the inquiry, I grew annoyed. She was being stubborn and knew how much that angered me, so I tried to compel the truth out of her with a kiss. Instead of the feeble truth she would normally disclose, she forced me off her. This pissed me off, so, instead of pushing her further, I went to take a shower to calm down.

She was gone when I returned to the bedroom.

"Mamoru!" I exclaimed as I saw him lounging around in the penthouse. He groaned and looked away from the window he was smoking out of. "Follow ____. I need to find out what's going on with her." Once I had found out she had booked a vacation day all of a sudden, I grew anxious about what she was planning. Normally, she'd freak out if I suddenly took her out of work, but now she's doing it all on her own? Kishi complained at first, but I quickly compelled him to go out searching for her.

~~~~~~

In the afternoon, I was sitting in the penthouse with Ota and Baba. They were chatting carelessly, but I couldn't get my mind off ____. She had been out for most of the day and I had yet to get a report from Mamoru.

"Hey, boss, what's on your mind?" Baba slid up beside me, but I only scowled at him.

"____'s been avoiding him," Ota exclaims teasingly and I throw him a warning glare.

Before this can continue, the elevator door pings open. Instinctively, my gaze darts toward whose there. ____, looking frail and tired, stepped through the doors before they could close on her. When she made no move to walk towards us, I avoided her gaze and returned to the man-children's conversation.

Soon after ____ returned, Mamoru appeared next to us.

"Well?" I asked, secretly terrified of what he had found out. Mamoru grew nervous, lighting a cigarette to distract us from my question.

"She was out with a guy I know. He's a detective. Looked close. Kept hugging each other. She started crying at one point." He avoided my intense gaze as he explained. The air in the room got cold as I jumped up, storming towards our room.

Is she cheating on me? Why would she go around hugging guys? Wait, is she ratting us out? I thought back to the guy I was told she had gone to see as I stood outside the bathroom door. It was locked, but I couldn't hear anything on the other side.

Annoyed about my feelings and her actions, I slammed my fist on the door until she opened it. "Where did you go today?" Just to see if she would tell the truth, I pinned her against the wall and kicked the door closed with my foot. The shower wasn't on and the toilet lid was closed, so I couldn't think of any other reason she would be in here except to hide from me. At first, she was shocked with how forceful I was, and then she grew shy.

"Did you follow me?" She looked offended after I asked her who she had gone to see. Even though she seemed hurt, I was in more pain. Why couldn't she just come out and say it? She had to be hiding something.

I'll prove to you that I'm the only one you can love. I'm the best man for you. My hands snake down to the bottom of her white shirt and I try to lift it up as I slam my lips into her's, but she pushes with all her might to get me away. She struggles to say my name, but all I want to do is stop her from talking. I don't want to know the truth. What if she really is cheating on me?

"Enough! I'm not going anywhere!" She screams, taking advantage of me parting our lips to speak and drive me off her. Tears were in her eyes, she looked terrified as she held her body.

"He was my fiance."

The words echo in my head and I turn away, too scared of what I'll do if she continues to explain that she loves another man. Why can't she realise I am the best man for her? That she is the only woman I will ever love?

"...I had a miscarriage." I was brought back to our conversation by her emotional admission and I freeze up. Why hadn't she just told me about this before? I listened to her tearful explanation of her outing as my eyes travelled the room.

There, on the countertop between our matching sinks, was an object I didn't recognise. Stepping towards it, I picked it up to see the markings of a positive pregnancy test. I thought back to all the nights I woke up to her throwing up and how tired she had been lately. It would definitely account to why she's been so secretive. But... Why didn't she trust me to be happy?

"If you don't want a baby... That's okay-." I cut her off by wrapping her in my embrace. Pride filled my heart for the joy I was feeling. Never had I thought of starting a family, I fooled around with too many women to want to settle down.

But, with the way I felt about ____, I could see us raising children together. Whether in the city or in the countryside where she grew up, I could see her cooking massive meals for our kids and us both picking them up from school. We would have to have girls because there is no way I'm sharing ____ with another man.

"I love you too." I planted a soft kiss on her lips as she trembled in my embrace.

[stennnn06]

rojascorp I

just a little rojascorp drabble :)

“Hope, dim the lights to 50 percent," Lena sighs, tiredly. 

The condo lights dim to an easy evening glow, wrapping her in calm, lazy comfort, the kind she’s been craving ever since her last meeting of the day wrapped up early. 

She pours a glass of wine, a silky red, perfect for a night like this. A quiet night where there's no expectation, no company. It's a rare night off from work, a rare night off from the need to berate herself, so she'll skip the scotch and try for something softer. Gentler.

She turns off her phone, and turns on the fireplace, and with one more press of a button, the smooth, easy saxophone melody of her jazz record starts playing softly throughout the room.

Just as she gets comfortable, her mind finally able to drift, there's a knock at the door.

“Lena?" A familiar voice calls out on the other side. "Are you there? It's me..." a pause. "It's Andrea."

Lena checks her watch with a frown and opens the door to reveal a soft-faced Andrea Rojas, stripped of the rigors of running two businesses and standing plainly on her doorstep with a sheepish smile on her face.

She’s beautiful in all the ways Lena remembers, and in ways she seems to have forgotten. Even in the dimness of night, her eyes are so bright, so blue, that Lena has to avoid staring at them. If she doesn’t, they’ll leave her entirely tongue-tied. They were always her weakness. 

"Andrea," Lena breathes, questioning, but not entirely unwelcoming. "Is everything okay?"

She looks younger without her make-up, and it pulls on her heart in all the wrong places. This is the version of Andrea she catches herself thinking about whenever someone mentions her name, or whenever Obsidian comes up in the news. This is her Andrea, not the one she projects for the world. This is the girl who likes Titanic, and loves to cook even though she pretends she doesn’t, and who sings in the shower when she doesn’t think anyone can hear her. 

That’s the Andrea she loved, and that’s the one she desperately misses. But she takes comfort in the fact that even after all this time, there still seems to be a glimpse of that girl hidden beneath the surface. 

It makes Lena think that maybe all isn’t lost between them.

"Yes," Andrea answers quickly, too quickly. Lena watches the way she looks away frowning, then meets Lena's eyes with a watery smile. "No? I don't know."

"Come in," Lena opens the door wider. "Wine?"

Andrea grins, but it doesn't reach her eyes as she nods. 

The last time Andrea came to her apartment unannounced, it was to apologize, to explain herself for the betrayal Lena spent years blaming on her. She isn't sure how to move forward from that, if they can move forward from that, but deep down in her heart, she knows Andrea is good. She knows she wants to try. 

Lena can give her that much, even if her heart is guarded. 

They were already on a tentative path back to something real, but for Andrea to show up again out of the blue, with quivering lips and watery eyes, Lena braces herself for what it might mean. 

The wine is poured, their places on the couch secured, close enough to be angled near each other, but not close enough to be something more than it is. Lena regards the distance with a slight bitter taste in her mouth, the memories of their relationship flooding back heavy and hard. She’s somehow able to avoid going there when they see each other professionally, but in the privacy of her own home, during non-working hours, when Andrea is soft and vulnerable and real, Lena feels overwhelmed with the nostalgia of it all. 

She remembers the way Andrea would tease her, with side-eye glances and mocking tones, avoiding malice and somehow making it all perfectly endearing, in a way only Andrea could perfect. She remembers the way Andrea would laugh, loudly and without abandon, whenever Lena would say something particularly witty. She remembers how she would look before she would kiss Lena, all coy and sweet with a mischievous smile and only the slightest hesitation. 

She remembers the way her lips would feel, full and soft and a perfect match for Lena's own. 

She remembers the fire of jealousy whenever Andrea would talk about someone else, as if Lena had any right to claim her as her own. 

She remembers how it feels to miss her, and the giant hole in her heart seems to ache even more than usual. 

She pushes all the memories back into their box rapidly, trying to focus on the present. 

Almost like she can read Lena's mind, Andrea is in her space, her hands folding on top of Lena's own. She looks at Lena with such an earnest face, that Lena feels the tears threatening to spill before she can even try to stop them.

"I don't know where to start--," Andrea says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want you to hate me, but I don't think I can go on like this..."

"Like what?" Lena asks, startled, realizing just how closely they're sitting. It’s more distracting than the fact that whatever is weighing on Andrea seems serious. 

Andrea's face is only inches from hers, studying her, her eyes darting from side to side like she's desperate. There's a charged tension between them, and Lena isn't sure if they're going to have a heated argument, or a heated make out session. She isn’t entirely opposed to either, if she’s honest. 

“I--,” Andrea starts, her eyes glancing at Lena’s lips before moving back to her eyes. “I’m just--”

There it is. The look Lena was waiting for. Andrea’s tell for when she wants to make a move but isn’t sure how. She knows she won’t ask, won’t stoop to that level of potential rejection. But that’s fine. Feeling strangely bold, and a little self-destructive, Lena does it for her.

She pulls Andrea forward, their lips coming together in a long overdue reunion. She hopes this is what Andrea was trying to say, was too scared to say, because God, Lena wants to say it, too. 

She tastes like sweet wine and feels better than Lena’s memory gave justice to, and even if this is wrong, Lena can’t make herself care right now.  

In response, Andrea’s hands are suddenly grabbing at her, her arms wrapping around Lena as her fingers rake up and down her back. Lena melts at the contact, feeling pliable and completely exhausted from fighting this for so long. Andrea sighs heavily into her, letting go of all the anxiety she had been carrying since entering the apartment. 

Lena’s head is warning her that this is a bad idea, but her senses are entirely wrapped up in all things Andrea -- her perfume, a spicy scent that is uniquely hers and makes the heat in Lena’s chest explode, and the movement of her hips against Lena’s that give away exactly how she’s feeling. 

"We should stop," Lena forces herself to say, but she doesn't mean it. Not at all. Instead, she pushes her lips further against Andrea's, her fingers tangling in her perfectly layered hair. 

"Mm," Andrea responds, her mouth cooperating with everything Lena does. She pauses and tries to pull back, enough to say, "Do you want to?"

"...No," Lena breathes, pushing back against her and angling her down on the couch. She follows closely, positioning herself on top so she can feel more of her. 

Lena slides her thigh between Andrea’s legs, pushing against her enough to cause just the slightest bit of friction. Andrea’s hips buck at the contact, her tongue pushing deeper into Lena’s mouth. She hooks her one leg around Lena’s waist and pulls her in impossibly close, kissing her with so much intensity that it makes Lena dizzy.

She doesn’t remember the last time she was kissed like this, and it sends her heart racing. 

Lena knows they can’t go further than this tonight, that it wouldn’t be right, that it would set everything they’re trying to rebuild on fire, but she doesn’t know if she can stop. Andrea seems to read it, the way she always knew how, and slows down the pace as if on cue. Lena sighs, partially in contentment and partially in severe disappointment, resigning herself to kissing Andrea softly and memorizing the feel of her lips and the way her hands feel on her hips. 

Andrea eventually pulls back, enough to stare up at Lena’s face. She brings a gentle hand to Lena’s cheek, and Lena closes her eyes, allowing herself to lean into it. 

"I've missed you," Lena confesses against her palm, her eyes still closed as she melts against Andrea. "I didn't know how to tell you." 

It’s okay to admit it now, in the quiet of her own home, against Andrea’s skin. It doesn’t change the past, and it doesn’t guarantee the future, but it’s there, real and tangible and something Andrea can hold on to. 

“I can tell,” Andrea chuckles, trying to joke, but Lena can tell she’s been in pain, too. 

"I was so angry with you," Lena chokes out a sob. She looks down at Andrea guiltily. “I don't want to be.”

“It's okay if you still are,” Andrea assures her. Lena rests her head against Andrea’s chest, listening to the calming sound of her heart. She closes her eyes for a few moments, allowing herself to really feel this.

Andrea shifts slightly and Lena opens her eyes. “Just don't leave, ok?” 

"It's you and me again,” Lena promises. And she means it. She pulls herself up to sitting and settles herself in the nook of Andrea’s arm, her head resting against her shoulder. If she can have this with Andrea, then maybe, for once, she could be happy. “You jump, I jump, right?”

“Right,” Andrea agrees, chuckling with sad eyes. “I missed you too, you know. But it doesn't have to be like that ever again. We could make it work--”

Andrea starts talking excitedly, but Lena won’t allow herself to go there. It’s too much, too painful. A moment of indulgence is fine, but planning for the future is out of the realm of possibility. 

Lena feels herself shrinking, Andrea’s voice growing fainter and fainter. She doesn’t want to leave, but she knows she has no choice. The room starts to spin and everything swirls and evaporates into nothing. 

“Hope, end simulation,” Lena’s voice cracks as she settles back to herself.

Her eyes refocus slowly, back to the gentle glow of the fireplace and her empty singular wine glass. She reaches for the bottle and starts to pour another. 

[all-things-fic]

Cavalcami

To everyone waiting for the secret girlfriend one-shot, I hope this quenches your thirst a little bit. I know it may not be what you want but this soft version of newly wed Harry, who can’t keep his hands to himself, and still encapsulates the filthy fucker we all know he can be sometimes is all I can think of at the minute. 

Shout out to @waitingfortwilight for a chat that we had quite a while back about thigh riding. Very dangerous, in the best kinda way, of course. Happy Saturday, dolls! x

***

You stood in the middle of your bedroom, white bed sheets in disarray from earlier on in the afternoon. Clothes were at your feet, strewn across the floor displaying the previous passion that had filled the space, hands fiddling with your dangly earring in your right ear as you secured it.

Eyes blinked slowly as you focused on the figure of your husband sitting out on the balcony, his legs crossed and perched on the quaint white railing of your balcony while his stare was transfixed on the lowering sun over the horizon of Positano.

A faint smile laced your lips as you thought about the two days that the two of you had been here. Your decision spontaneous, Harry deciding to hire a car and pack the two of you up out of the Amalfi villa that was occupied by the two of you as well as his family, to take the winding roads to drive you the short forty-two minute car ride to an equally dreamy destination.

There hadn’t been any questioning on your part, only giggles as he dramatically swung the overnight bags you had packed together into the boot of the white Alfa Romeo Duetto Spider that housed these gorgeous red leather seats. He, with his youthful tendencies, threatened to jump over the door, to climb into the car, as the soft top was rolled down, thanks to glorious sunshine that dominated your southern Italian getaway.

You had shaken your head at his boyish antics at the time, telling him to stop acting like an uncivilised Neanderthal and to get into the car like the real-life adult that he was by opening and closing the door. He saw the reasoning behind your lack of wanting to go against the grain and complied.

Giggles turned into smiles and even more giggles against each other’s mouth as you passionately kissed him over the centre console of the car when he joined you, all bright eyed and eager to get away from everyone else for a couple of days us time.

“‘M gonna shag you either in this car or on it before we’re done on this ‘oliday, d’ya know tha’,” he murmured against your lips, nudging his nose against yours to entice you.

“Plenty of time,” you replied, your vision of him blurred from how close you both were but still able to just about make out his smirk. You loved calling him out on his bluff and he loved it even more that you weren’t afraid to give it back to him.

On the quick forty-two minute drive you’d thought about how lucky you were as you turned your head to look at your husband of twenty two days and watched him easily handle the classic car.

The way the sun haloed around him as he drove the short journey caused you to fill with an immense amount of emotion that guided you to reach for his dormant hand that was sat languidly against the mushroom brown fabric of his trousers.

Italy made you both giddy, like love sick teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Just that this time there was an edge of emotion that made it different, because you knew that this was your forever.

You and he weren’t going to question it.

His hand was against you lips next, mouth kissing at his knuckles and playing with his fingers. Harry bit away his smile from your affection, as he enjoyed the way you showered him with love, silently.

“Might need m’hand back ‘n a minute,” he commented, causing you to knock your eyes off of him and back onto the twists and turns of the coastal road. “Don’t want me driving us off the cliff edge d’ya?” He laughed, somewhat morbidly as you joined in.

“How can you find something so morbid funny?” You asked with a slight laughter lilt to your question.

“Same way you can.”

Hesitantly, you released his hand, watching him quickly lower his gear again as he turned a winding corner. You watched him in such a way that if someone was watching you like this, you’d find it slightly creepy. And maybe you’d be embarrassed if it were anyone else, but he was your husband.

“Gonna get a terrible crick in your neck, darlin’” he teased, wanting to provoke some kind of reaction from you. A slap to the top of his arm, or maybe a high-pitched squeal of his name as you wore an incredulous expression at how brazen he was being.

You had chosen to ignore him, turning your entire body to face him and curling your legs up on the red leather seat underneath you. His hand, the one you were previously playing with quickly fingered your outer thigh, pushing underneath the blush nude pink dress you had chosen to wear.

“Turn the radio on, doll,” he requested with a light squeeze to your knee. “Not long left now, make it something Italian.”

Like you had any other choice.

You didn’t mind one bit how long was left. You were happy and content to enjoy the coastal sea breeze in your hair and listen to nothing but the classic car engine and feel the magnetic pull of the sun above you, tinging your skin with a golden glow.

The next sounds that filled your senses were that of the car chugging in between the quaint Italian lanes that were filled by adults and little kiddies dressed in bright colours that likened the scene to some ninety’s photography.

Harry drove in first gear, conscious of those residents that were darting in and out traffic, adults on foot and kiddies on bikes, as he drove you to the charming apartment that was everything you needed to get away from family to continue to enjoy each other.

Terracotta walls, that had been bleached by the sun to give more of a subdue peach, greeted you when the car slowed in front of this quintessential Italian apartment.

Cherry blossom trees, mixed with the most beautiful olive vines, created a faux archway that caught your eyes from behind your sunglasses as you looked up from your seat inside the car and emitted the dreamiest sigh.

Once he had parked the car as close to curb as he could, Harry shot out from his side and turned his attention to getting your luggage from out of the boot and setting it at the foot of the car.

Wiping his sweaty hands on the backs of his trousers, he opened your door, snapping your attention away from your surroundings and onto the beautiful man in front of you that hung over your seated figure comfortingly as he rested his left hand on the headrest of your seat.

“Now you are just showing off,” you commented, nudging your head behind you at the surroundings that he’d brought you too.

Harry was pleased with himself, you knew that much. The quiet but oh so confident smugness radiating off him as he looked down at you. He had no intention of hiding that he knew he’d pulled it out of the bag. He knew this was the one that you had pulled up on his phone months ago and left open against the kitchen island while he cooked dinner and you were dragged off by a phone call with Gemma over table favours and whether you should go with sugar coated almonds or something less traditional.

You knew this place too. This was the place that boasted those beautiful Italian patterned tiles that you were somehow hoping would transition into your Hampstead home, even if they just went into the utility room and you chose to close the door on them rather than have them breaking up your cosy, English aesthetic.

“When am I not?” He counter argued around an off centred smile and laughter laced tone. “Get up here,” he reached for you, hand spreading out across the top of your back as you swung your legs neatly out to hide your knickers and slowly pushed yourself from the already lower than low classic car.

As you stood, he pushed his sunglasses gently off his nose and up into his hair. Hair that you couldn’t wait to wash the lingering sea breeze residue out of, that you knew would be crisp and crunching underneath your fingers if you ran them through his locks.

“You’re going to regret that,” you winced for him, knowing that the sunglasses nose pads would no doubt get tangled up in his hair.

“S’alrigh’, it’ll give you enough reason to get on m’arse ‘bout cutting it-“

He pulled you away enough from the car as you spoke to obnoxiously slam the door, before returning you to rest against the cool white metal.

“Hey,” you started, mouth slightly fallen, leaning back and feeling the coolness of the car against the backs of your thighs. He spread his legs wide as he enclosed you and saw the way you sat against the car lightly, “I love you however you come to me.”

“S’nice to know,” he deadpanned.

“You’ve gone a bit soft since the wedding but-“

“Oi, ‘m on my m’holidays y’know,” he stopped your hands that had spread over his rounder than usual tummy, close to his hips and those love handles that you loved purely because of how out of place they looked compared to the rest of his lean and sturdy body. You loved how he always eased off any work regime when he was on holiday. “S’not a nice way to talk to your husband, is it? Especially your husband who has these-“

Your eyes cut to his hands as he dangled keys to his right. The way they swayed in the light breeze, enticing as you stared at them.

As you looked at them, you felt Harry press closer to you, his nose rested against your cheek bone and his lips skimming you skin as he spoke. “Remember what we said about testing out the bed. You said it looked massive, said you couldn’t wait-“

He didn’t even try and snap the keys away from you as your left hand enclosed around his right and the keys. His hand slowly falling away to rest against your hips once he knew you had a tight enough grip on the keys.

You squealed as he pushed you up and sat your more firmly on top of the car door and caused you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and grip tightly.

“Not arsed about the car anymore then?”

“Nah, it can wait.”

***

You didn’t quite make it to the bed, but the couch was good enough. More than enough and definitely better than good, you thought with a smile as your eyes ran over you husband’s body that was slouched against the cushions. 

Harry sat at the other end of the couch, shirtless, after you had decided to grab it after your little escapade in the middle of the living room. His trousers sat lower, the waistband still open in his laziness but also cheekiness at wanting to be ready to go again as soon as you were.

He was reading a book, you didn’t know what, but you knew without a doubt it wasn’t a novel from the way the text was laid out on the page. You admired him as you sat at the opposite end of the couch, one leg resting on his lap, the other bent up against the back of the furniture. His right hand softly clutching to your ankle as he stroked his thumb against your bare skin - the top of your foot to be exact - making you know he was still very much aware of your presence, even if his eyes were engrossed with something else.

God, you loved his mouth. It had been a while since he had given it to you properly, but you were sure you would get around to it at some point on this holiday. Always did. He just liked to make you bide your time for certain things, made you savour them that much more when they actually came around, he said.

The way it moved now as he read words to himself, under his breath, while he perused the pages just drew your eyes to that part of him in particular. His lips were so pink against his faint beginnings of a tan and the soft facial hair that appeared lighter - much to his dismay as he already struggled with it and the sun bleaching it lighter was definitely not helping matters - thanks to the sunshine, only further enticed your lingering gaze.

“S’rude to stare y’know,” he smirked around his words as he kept his eyes on his book, lips twitching at the corners as he called you out.

If that was the case, then call you rude because you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Can do what I like now we’re wed,” you replied, a bit too sure of yourself, your foot lightly hitting his leg that was now clad in those trousers that he’d chosen to wear that morning, but this time you knew he was commando underneath. You made a mental note to make sure you looked for his boxers before you left. Last thing you wanted was for those things to be on eBay by the time you had gotten back home.

“S’tha’ righ’, Mrs Styles,” his drawl was so lazy, you felt yourself sink further into his button-down shirt and the couch beneath you. He warmed you always when he spoke but with the added tag on of your new name, you were gooey. Gooier than you would ever admit to, of course.

“I’ve not legally changed my name yet so don’t know if you can call me that, passport very much still thinks you haven’t made an honest women out of me-“ he turned his eyes to look at you with this stare that gripped you instantly.

Taking his name hadn’t been a topic of conversation. Neither had it been a given that you were going to change it.

“Don’t have to,” he swallowed, his book loosely held in his hands, his other hand slightly clammy as he continued to softly stroke at your calf. “S’completely up to you.”

“I know I don’t, I want to,” you replied, giving him some kind of unnecessary reassurance.

The smile he gave you, caused this explosion of fluttering butterflies in your stomach. That smile, you knew the one well, where it curled up slowly onto his left side and his lazy eye went slightly smaller than it already was. His head fell lackadaisically against the back of the couch and lolled to the side to look at you as he tried to bite it away. You were sure he was blushing, his eyes holding this twinkle of hope, lust, love, a future and everything in between.

“Really darlin’,” he was breathy, with wonder.

“Of course, don’t be a numpty,” you pressed your toes into his thigh again, “married you, didn’t I? Want it all-“

“Want it all, wi’me-“

You hummed as you nodded over at him, watching the way he let himself get lost in his thoughts, even if only for a fraction of a second.

He sighed, his chest heaving as he closed his eyes. When he was like this, slightly emotional, you knew you were the luckiest woman in the word. While he couldn’t always express himself in the ways that he wanted with you, especially at the beginning, sometimes getting a bit tongue tied and flustered, his ease in showing his vulnerably with you now was something that two of you had taken great pride in working on together as you became more than just lovers, but equals.

“Best day of m’life,” he easily confessed, eyes still closed and voice breathy. “Let’s do it all over again.”

“Harry-“ you giggled, feeling him tug at your leg, wanting you closer. “We got married twenty-two days ago, don’t think it’ll wash with our guests if we say we want a vow renewal already.”

“How’d you know if we don’t try? Didn’t have you down as a quitter, love-“

“Oh shut yer face-“ he went straight for the jugular with the competitive dig, his tongue running over the front of his teeth to try and stop him from smiling. He loved it when he could get a short and snappy rise out of you. “Anyway, what’s got you so taken from me-“

You swung your legs around to get closer to him, heart swelling at how he raised his right arm up, ready to accommodate you whenever you were ready to fall into his side.

“Jus’ brushing up while we’re here,” he commented, when you sank into his warmth and pressed your hand to the middle of his chest, feeling the way his slightly rounded belly moved with each inhale and exhale.

With slow, blinking eyes you let them run over the words on the page, feeling his head dip down slightly to silently watch your reaction.

Mouth now agape as the penny finally dropped, you tapped his body lightly with your hand. “You filthy fucker,” you chastised him, eyes wide from what you were looking at as he barked this dirty laugh and let his head fall dramatically behind him again. “Just brushing up are ya?”

Page after page of filthy words written down in Italian, sentences that made sure the reader was using any filthy language in the correct context because heaven forbid if they weren’t.

“When in Rome,” he spoke deeply before correctly himself, “or the Amalfi Coast, eh?”

You could feel yourself blushing, so strange for you, as he eyed you and soothed his hand up and down your back over the top of his expensive Gucci shirt.

“Why’ve you gone coy on me?” He mused, pulling you to him and pressing his lips to your temple. “You fuckin’ love it when I talk dirty to you-“

Nails scratched at his skin as he spoke, giving away just how much of an affect his words were having. “Yea’ you do- adds ‘nother dimension don’t it-“ he nudged his nose into your cheekbone as he continued to watch your eyes run over the page of filth. “Succhiandomi,” he huskily spoke.

You pulled away from him slightly, hearing him chuckle when he saw how you tried to scan the page his book was currently open at, to get some sort of idea what he had just said, even going as far as to reach for the book that of course he playfully pulled out of your reach just in time.

“H,” you whined, as he pulled you closer to him, hair falling into your face as you met his warm side once more.

“Forget ‘bout the bloody book, s’more fun to find out wha’ they mean together,” he reached for your hand, pressing it lightly to his hardening cock underneath his trousers. “Succhiandomi,” he repeated, “please, doll. Suck m’off fo’a bit-“

“You’re not going to be hard enough-“

“Lemme get hard in your mouth,” he replied, quickly (some would say desperately), brushing your hair back and letting his thumb brush gently against your jawline, coaxing you to look at him. “S’yours-“

You turned to him, doughy-eyed, blinking at him innocently. “God, don’t look at me like tha’-“

His head tipped back again as he repeated the word, “Succhiandomi, darlin’.”

Pressing your lips to his skin you slowly moved down lower to his waistband but didn’t move to remove yourself from the couch. You toyed with the open waist band of his trousers and scratched your nails against the faint line of hair from his belly button, noticing the way he sucked in a breath in anticipation.

“I think this is just your way of telling me a kink of yours without actually expressing it,” you mumbled against his skin, lips sucking at the top of his fern as you felt his hands scoop up your hair and pinch it in one hand to stop it from getting into your face and covering his view.

“S’up to you to work tha’ one out, wifey. Go’ all the time in world, don’t we? Eh?”

You smiled at his words. Yeah, you did have all the time in the world.

***

Bare feet tapped against the tiles of your bedroom floor quietly, eyes lingering on Harry as he enjoyed the final sunset before you went back to the Amalfi villa tomorrow and joined his family once more to see out the rest of your holiday/first honeymoon.

You say first honeymoon because having had you to himself for the past two days he had made it known that you were definitely going to have another honeymoon and not one that tagged onto a holiday with Gem, Anne and Michal. One for just the two of you.

You smiled thinking back to the conviction he had delivered that news to you in. His tone set as he held your eyes and brushed your hair out of your face at breakfast that morning. He had enjoyed how youthful you looked when you had woken to him cooking breakfast, face a little puffy from your lay-in, an extra spring in your step that you had boldly admitted to him was completely and utterly down to the amount of sex the two of you had managed to cram in over the entire apartment over the last two days.

For the record, the bed was as fucking fantastic as you knew it would be.

Sitting in his boxers with his dress shirt sitting on his shoulders, still unbuttoned, your eyes ran over him and the way he looked completely content. Right hand resting behind his head and left on his bare stomach, Harry was a type of relaxed he hadn’t been in a long time, and you knew that just by the way his shoulders didn’t seem to have weird pinch to them where they were slightly risen even when he claimed he was stress-free.  

Sauntering over to him, you rested against the door frame of the double doors and softly spoke, as to not startle him, “Want me to press your trousers before you put them on for dinner?”

You watched him slowly turn his head to look at you from over his shoulder. He smiled as he took in you, hair blowing across his forehead in the light evening breeze. “Look at you slippin’ right into the role of being m’wife-“

“Alright, you can iron your own bloody trousers, won’t offer next time,” you joked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Already done ‘em, why’d you think I’m not sitting in ‘em. Can’t risk creasing ‘em ‘fore we go out-“ he stilled, tilting his head back to see more of you. “Look nice, love.”

“You look comfy-“

“I am, c’mere,” he nudged his head, spreading his legs wider as an invitation, holding his hand out above his head and wriggling his fingers over towards you, wanting you to take it.

Smiling softly, you walked over to him, swaying your hips in that way that he loved, knowing your dress would flow over your curves just right. He knew what you were doing, his smirk told you that as he swung you around to join him on the chair that he had almost taken root in to watch the sunset.

He hummed into your hair as you made yourself comfortable on his lap, eyes turning to look at the sunset while he pressed his face half into your temple. You could feel the span of his palm across your back as he spread it and gripped for a short amount of time to your skin.

This time of night was your favourite, just as the world chose to take on either an orange glow or that warm pink colour that mesmerised you enough to fill you with an exciting buzz while making your feel so inconsequential and small within the world. In the best way.

Blindly you reached for Harry’s hand, while the two of you sat in comfortable silence, letting the bustle of the Italian streets below fill you senses. You toyed with his fingers once more, like you did many a-time on this holiday, playing with the ring on his left hand.

“Got a quite tan line here,” you joked, with a soft smile after you let your eyes linger on his fingers. You felt proud of the way his wedding ring had already made itself known onto his skin subconsciously.

“So have you,” he relayed, toying with the strap of your maxi dress. You looked at him, knocking your eyes back to his, enjoying the way his hand slid so slowly from your shoulder to cup the back of your neck and his eyes followed his fingers.

He guided his lips to yours and passionately enveloped his lips over your top lip, softly pulling away after he left the sponging kiss knowing he could get heated as his warm breath mixed with yours. “Gonna show me your other white bits,” he breathed, taking on his lower register as you rocked yourself closer to him. “Or ‘ave I gotta find ‘em all by m’self.”

You whined, frustratedly at him, causing Harry to laugh. “Wha’?”

“I’m trying to be all sentimental here,” you complained, watching him rest his head back onto his seat to look down his nose at you, with those slow and sleepy blinks. “And you’re more interested in getting in my knickers”

“Can’t get in ‘em, if you’re not wearing ‘em,” he mumbled, like a know-it-all, slowly moving his right arm from the back of his head and down to you back, smoothing his hand to the back of your dress and over your bum cheek. You’d forgone knickers knowing that the dark pair you’d brought along with you would only be on display through the light material of your maxi dress.

“Now do I need to smooth my hand under to confirm or is the feeling of you against my thigh enough?”

You breathed deeply through your nose as you closed your eyes from his words. He snickered, lightly through his nose, pulling you further up. You pushed his boxer leg up as you went.

“Like this, s’better than nice,” his voice was deep as he complimented your wrap maxi dress that gaped open at the front from underneath your boobs due to the way you straddled him but managed to keep you covered up from behind. “Like how it lets me see, but no one else.”

You were panting now and you were not ashamed. His eyes begged you to fall in closer to him, for you to put your mouth onto his. And you did, heavy breathing mixing together once again. Wet kisses, open mouth and filled with tongue consumed your thoughts as he pulled away and cupped your cheek.

Mouth skimming yours he whispered, “Cavalcami-“

“Harry-“

You knew that word. It was the one that you had been practicing under your breath for the rest of that afternoon as you milled around the apartment.

“Rock forwards, go on,” he requested, having listened closely to your practicing mantra. In this moment now he enjoyed the way he could see your cheeks tint with a blush that spread slowly down to your chest. “Ride me-“

And you did, not needing to be told twice. You rolled your hips forwards, enjoying the feeling of his thigh underneath you, the coarseness of his hair against your soft, shaven, smoothened skin caused your breath to catch in your throat as you mouth fell.

“Yea’, look at you usin’ m’leg,” he leaned forward dropping his face into your sternum and took to pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to skin of your chest. Once he’d had his fill, he pressed his forehead to your chest, his eyes falling to watch the way you rubbed against him. Hands pushed into his shoulder to seek the leverage you needed to get the desired outcome.

Rolling back and forth against his leg, you dropped your head back; Harry taking advantage of the space you gave him, sliding his lips upwards, skimming your neck and then your jaw line. He sucked particularly harshly at the skin underneath your ear lobe, against his better judgement knowing that you would give him a right bollocking for giving you something so on show for the rest of the world to see.

You could feel his right hand slide to the front of your body, his palm spanning across the front of your stomach, softly stroking your skin and enjoying the way it jolted as your hips moved with more frantic rocks.

Your mouth was guided back to his, the both of you catching your breath when he tried to kiss you, sloppy and off centred once more. “You gon’ make m’thigh smell of you, darlin’? Eh? Gonna make the hairs of m’thigh stick to my skin-“

Nodding fervently, regardless of how filthy his words were that you were eagerly approving of, you hummed in agreement. “Yea’?” He asked, eyebrows raising, “you dirty girl, dry humping your husband on a balcony in Italy-“

“Press down a bit harder, tha’s it-“ he hummed as you bit down on your bottom lip while he watched you through hooded eyelids and fought the urge to take his left hand and squeeze at his own growing bulge in his black boxers.

“H-,” you gasp, when he slid his hand that was resting on your abdomen that little bit lower, his thumb tauntingly close to where you needed it.

Forehead resting against his now, you were both almost cross-eyed as you looked at each. He was completely taken in by your flushed beauty, glassy eyes and pouty lips as his chest heaved with anticipation and eagerness.

“Wha’s’got you this hot ‘n bothered, darlin’?” he asked, tone light and chaste, “s’jus’ me innit, gonna let me watch you finish.” It was not a question. He knew you would.

“Wanna make yeh feel good, want-,” he growled low in his throat as he felt you press down harder against him. “Want y’to come. Want it all over m’leg, c’mon-“ he encouraged you.

And you were. All over his leg. You could feel how wet and slick you were and the pitchy, whiny, breathy sounds in the base of your throat that were leaving your lips in response to his words only made you more desperate and wet.

“M’getting’ so fuckin; hard,” he moaned pitifully, forehead creasing as his bottom lip jutted, “S’takin’ everythin’ in me not to pull m’self out and wank m’self raw, doll. Help me, baby, please-” His admittance, desperation, his pained groan as you felt his hands squeeze at your hips and his teeth gritted lightly.

“You comin’ all o’er my thigh,” you shook your head, lips pouting as you looked at Harry and the light smirk he wore; the bumps of your hips becoming that little bit more off rhythm. He knew you were, and you knew you were, but the way you started to ease up almost to spite yourself in wanting to not prove him right.

He shook his head. “Don’t, don’t ease up,” his throat was tight as he spoke, swallowing harshly around his pants and licking at his lips which suddenly felt dry. “Be m’good girl and go an’ get it- show me jus’ how good you can be-“

“M’ close, Harry-“

“Show me-“

The encouragement he was giving you, the praise and the admiration, mixed with the warmness of his hands and the way they guided you. Wanting you pressed down harder, needing you to grind quicker over his leg.

And what are you doing? You’re on the balcony, in the open air with many a window looking down upon you both. And importantly- “you’re fucking loving it aren’t you,” he noticed, and more notably, he approved. “Yea’ baby, tha’s it-“

And you’re gasping. A sharp cry leaving your lips before you buried your face into his shoulder, nipping at his skin lightly, as your whole body tensed, as your rubbing and rocking slowed. You pressed your torso into his, pulled taut as he held you to him with that large palm spread out across the span of your back once more.

Soft mewls pulled from your lips as he tightened his arm around you to keep your anchored to him, not wanting you to topple anywhere in your jelly-like state. Eyes remain closed as you felt him reach for your left hand, pressing it to the front of him. You felt the way that he was warm and wet underneath his underwear, the shuddering breath that left his body from the contact of your hand.

“Have we got time before dinner?” you sounded meek, needy, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“We’ll make the fuckin’ time,” he growled into jaw, “sit on it.”

“We’re outside-“

This breathy laugh, deep and manly bounced against your ear as he gripped your hips and moved you against his leg. You looked at him, watching this dopey grin slide over his face before he raised his eyes brows in challenge. “Didn’t stop you a second ago-"

“That was different-“

“S’tha’ cause it was f’you-“

He watched your eyes widen as he spluttered a laugh out his pressed together lips. You whined, dropping your head into his neck again as he weaved his fingers through your hair and scratched lightly at your scalp.

“I’ll let it slide, cause s’you- plenty of time to make it up t’me, wifey. Rest of m’life in fact. S’a long time, stuck wi’me-“

[carriedawayfromhome]

Blue - C.H

Count: 1.6K

Summary: Blue; a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.

Rating: General Audience (angst)

Masterlist

“I’ve never known how to say how I feel.”

You feel the tension in the air thicken as the door to your apartment opens and closes, a tired and overall exhausted looking Calum trudges through the kitchen, dumping his belongings onto the floor no words being spoken. You watch him from your spot on the couch, book half read now abandoned next to you, your feet planted on the ground ready if you need to jump up to him.  

His expression is vacant, his eyes show no light as he walks around your apartment. As if on autopilot he goes to the fridge to grab what seems to be a half finished beer, downing it quickly before closing the fridge, letting his forehead rest against the cool white surface. This is your cue, you jump up and walk over to him, his back facing towards you as you slowly and quietly let your body envelop him, your hands snaking around his waist to rest there. 

You always hope that he can feel the love you’re trying to give him, words have never been either your strong points, you try to show your love for people with affection and touch. He tenses initially but relaxes into your hold, his own hands coming up to rest on your hands, fingers interlocking. You stay there for a moment, letting him match his breathing to yours, letting him know that you are there. 

This isn’t a new situation for Calum, his liveliness has started to fade over the last few months, at first it was gradual, it started with less enthusiasm for going out, no interest in your usual day to day traditions and overall being less affectionate towards you. You let it slide, everyone has their bad days, their bad weeks even, but it’s now coming up to four months of Calum’s every ounce of his entity sliding away. You spoke with him, of course you did, he brushed you off, explaining that he’s tired from rehearsing, doing promos and interviews. 

But as the days went by his shoulders slumped more, his eyes got darker and his heart got sadder. You knew his job was hard, there was no off moments for him, being a musician was a constant flurry of meeting new people, plastering a smile on your face all the time and not letting anyone down, no matter what. He tries not to show it, you can see that, him trying his hardest to hide his feelings from you, but you see right through that mask he has put on, the act he’s trying so hard to play.

“Sweetheart,” You whisper into his back, eyes looking up to his bleached buzzed hair, his forehead still pressed against the fridge, “How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.” Comes a small, quiet reply from the man in front of you, his hands giving your’s a squeeze. 

You clutch on to him harder, wanting nothing more than to push every ounce of happiness you have in you into Calum, you would pay millions if someone, somehow could extract every piece of love, happiness and optimism from your veins, injecting it into Calum’s blood, letting it seep into his every crevice, filling him with everything he needs. You would give him the universe if you could, you would throw a lasso around the moon and give it to him, just like in It’s A Wonderful World. 

You’re suddenly pushed back as Calum stands up straight, still facing away from you he picks up a bag you noticed he had dropped earlier when he had trudged into the kitchen. He turns to face you, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb grazing your skin, a sigh warily escaping your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. 

“Love you.” He whispers almost inaudibly against the sound of your heart in your ears. He walks around you, heading straight for the bedroom, the soft click of the door exhaling against the walls, leaving you alone in the rest of the apartment. 

You leave him be, you know that he needs this time to himself everyday. You sometimes wish he would just let it out though, you would love nothing more than for him to just let it consume him for a moment, let this overwhelming sorrow inside him flow up and over his head, out onto the floor, where you would happily spend hours picking up the pieces for him.

Unfortunately for you though he’s never been one to overly show his feelings, always pushing every unnecessary feeling as far down as it would go, hiding it away from himself and the people around him, including you. You knew eventually this would come back to bite him, you tried to lessen the blow by letting him know he is allowed to express how he is feeling however he wants and he would always nod at you, smiling that smile that would make your stomach flip and with a quick kiss on the cheek, the moment would be gone. 

After about thirty minutes since Calum left you, you hear the bathroom shower turn on and you decide now is a better time than any to start cooking some dinner, hopefully Calum will feel up to eating today. You assemble and start to prepare a meal, stir fry was the first thing to pop into your head and really you’re not feeling up to preparing anything fancy tonight. 

You hear the shower finally turn off and the familiar sound of Calum rummaging around for his clothes follows and then silence. You always hope that he will emerge from your room every time he disappears into there and eight out of ten times does, those other times, well, you just let him know dinner is ready whenever he is. 

You sigh happily when you hear the bedroom door open, your back towards the sound of Calum’s steps padding along the wooden floor down the hall to where you are standing. 

“Cal, dinner will be ready in five, I’ve made stir fry tonight.”

You hear a croaky okay come from behind you and you turn briefly to give him a smile when you stop in your tracks, dropping the wooden spoon you were using to stir the cooked vegetables. 

Your eyes rake over your boyfriends appearance. Where there was once a buzzed bleached blonde hair style is now blue, the bright colour standing out against his warm olive skin, a stark contrast from his previous pale hue. You don’t know what to say as your eyes dart between his eyes and his very new hair colour. You now understand what was taking him so long in the bathroom. 

The silence is slightly suffocating as neither of you say a word, but you watch intently as Calum’s lip ever so slightly begins to tremble underneath your stare, his eyebrows pulling in together slowly and his hands coming to hold each other in an embrace in front of his torso. 

You take a few hesitant steps towards him, feeling the overwhelming sense that something is about to break, just like the feeling of static electricity before lightning strikes. And just before that lightning does strike, the thunder booms and the rain starts to fall and without hesitation you run around the kitchen island, the only thing separating you and the person who holds your heart. You capture Calum in your embrace as his knees buckle and he falls into you as you both descend to the floor, Calum’s long awaited tears flowing freely into your shirt. 

His sobs fill the room as he buries his head into your chest, his hands gripping almost painfully so onto your arms, your own silent tears streaming down your face. You hold him as close as he can possibly get, if you could enclose him into you, mould him into your own skin and blood you would, maybe then you could hold some of the pain he feels. 

You have no idea how long it’s been, the vegetables have burnt to a crisp, long forgotten on the stove top. Calum has quieted down, now only an occasionally sharp intake of breath or hiccup is all that comes from the man now resting in your lap, both still situated on the kitchen floor. You close your eyes, the stinging sensation easing as your lids meet, your hands are absentmindedly running through the newly melancholy colour, a light tinge leaving marks on your fingertips. 

“I’ve never known how to say how I feel,” His croaky voice breaks through the silence in the room, “So I thought I would show you.” 

You nod even though he can’t see you. He couldn’t find the words to express his pain so he laid it out for you on a silver platter. 

Blue. Disconsolate. Dejected. Depressed. Fearful. Sad. 

You feel the the words etch their way into your mind, one after another the story he’s being so desperately trying to tell you is now being laid out in front of you, a story book for you to read and decipher. You feel a slight weight being lifted off your shoulders as you realise this is a cry for help, a step to helping your boyfriend, your Calum, get better. 

You lean down to hold him as close as you can, your cheek resting on his sapphire hair, “I understand Calum, I understand.” 

He starts to cry again, you think these are relief tears at finally being able to show how he feels, so that now we can finally work together to make him better, to bring back the old Calum, to make him feel whole again. 

I understand.