#yeah high blood sugar will play hell on your teeth

[clatterbane]

Because I am evidently a masochist, I am taking advantage of this little break in other bullshit appointments by...trying in earnest to finally get in to see a dentist. 😰

Given the fact that I know I have at least a couple of problems that need to get fixed after those years of uncontrolled blood sugar, and the whole "local anesthetics not working right" bendy person situation? It does seem better to go for a dental practice that WILL do sedation worst case, right from the get-go. Thankfully I did find one of those in town, with good reviews to boot--and a decent online booking system. Now I just need to make sure Mr. C is OK ferrying me there, and when might be workable. 🫤

Also, dental stuff really does seem to be expensive af here. Almost as bad as back in the US. But, that really can't be avoided if I want to keep my teeth--which I kinda do! Already ended up losing two molars in London, and one of my front teeth is having an obvious problem now. (Which is thankfully not visible unless I bare them at people like a disgruntled chimp. Admittedly tempting to do sometimes, but I do try to refrain.)

[hookingminor]

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

-

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

-

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

-

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

-

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,��� he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

+1

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

[suntrastar]

time alone with you

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: swearing, some incoherent writing, no smut but a smut-adjacent direction??

summary: “wear me, he almost says, as if sam isn’t right there, as if he isn’t suddenly frozen in the middle of the fucking entryway.”

a/n: i’m currently working on a much longer bucky fic, but here’s a small thing i whipped up while (procrastinating) studying for finals! it’s a mess but who cares! i have yet to write a fic without a bed scene... this is a subtle nod to the fact that i like to sleep... and i will FOREVER romanticize oranges. anyways enjoy! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

masterlist! ao3!

“Are you ever going to make a move?”

There’s eggshells, but Sam doesn’t mind walking on them. He sounds exasperated in that eager kind of way- yeah, this situation sucks, but something about the tension is just so rough and gritty and good, right?

A flutter of panic rises in his chest, but Bucky shoves it back down, hard. He stops clenching his fists and stops looking at you, trying to shift the right parts of his face to play dumb.

“Make a move on what?”

Curiosity, supposedly genuine. 

In the kitchen, with your back halfway turned, you’re obliviously peeling an orange and wearing earbuds, blasting music so loud that he can hear it all the way from the entryway. Less words and more static, vaguely melodic.

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Her,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.

After all, you’re right there, and the only person that could even work in this context, and Sam is annoyingly perceptive; he’s bound to have picked up on something. No touches, but maybe the staring. Conversations and the lack thereof.

Maybe Bucky should cut his shit out and just say it. And maybe you should stop being so lovely, and maybe you should stop being so deft with your fingers- he might do something bad. Your hands must be smelling of citrus.

Bucky doesn’t respond. Sam sighs and moves on, slipping further in and clearing his throat louder than a damn vacuum, to make a subtle entrance, of course, and you finally look up and notice them. One earbud is slipped out, one hand is raised in a lazy wave.

You’re wearing a necklace. Thin gold chain, plain and probably fake, glinting like it knows how lucky it is to be sitting there, lucky on your skin, lucky to be dipping into the hollow of your neck- Bucky would switch places in a heartbeat. Wear me, he almost says, as if Sam isn’t right there, as if he isn’t suddenly frozen in the middle of the fucking entryway. 

Color him desperate.

You smile. Still cradling your orange, peel discarded.

“Hey, Bucky,” you say, and you’re looking at him and he thinks he’s sweating. “Long time no see.”

Sam snorts.

Again, Bucky can’t respond. He’s too dumbstruck- it’s hard to look at you right with other people around, when you’re prying your orange apart, when you’re slipping a slice into your mouth fuck.

He’d trade places with the orange, too. He’d trade places with the peel. 

He is definitely sweating.

You lean across the counter, resting your elbows on granite. His mouth is gummy. You’re wearing shorts and he can’t see your legs from where he stands, but he can imagine them perfectly- he curve of your ankle and the backs of your knees and the sides of your thighs, outer traced all the way to inner-

“He’s not saying anything because he’s nervous,” Sam says. He finally finds his snack and shuts the fridge, smiling wider than kids when they put strips of orange peel in front of their teeth. Fucking ridiculous.

“Shut up,” Bucky snaps. 

His voice is dry, grating. You wince. 

Sam does nothing. Again, eggshells.

“Sorry,” he says, in a way that isn’t sorry at all, “I’m heading out.”

“Bye,” you call, almost too fast.

So Sam fucks off to god knows where, skipping the whole way, and Bucky just stands there, awkward gawking and gaping and lovestruck, immobile and feeling like cold water. Like a dumb statue.

You wave for him to come closer. 

He comes closer.

You reach out and he thinks you’re going to touch him, and he thinks that he’s lucky today, too, but you just hand him half of your orange. He might be in shock. 

“Anyways,” you say, with the same cadence that someone might say good riddance, “Are you actually nervous?”

Always.

“Never,” he says.

You pause, slice halfway to your mouth. “Really?”

“Really.”

You lean closer. The dropped earbud skims against the countertop, music still going loud. He’s all alone with you- he could come to the other side and slip it in his own ear and press hard against you, elicit a started laugh, cradle your face and kiss off the taste of-

Footsteps. 

Steve ambles into the kitchen, taking Sam’s near-exact course, stopping at the fridge.

He sees you and smiles, sees Bucky and smiles. You nod at Steve and slip the earbud back in and eat your last slice in silence- and then it’s like it wasn’t shared in the first place. Like you’re just standing there and he’s just standing there and the standing just happened to coincide, and is eventually set to hand, with your hands fruitless and his hands itching.

You wink on your way out.

***

The day turns into a waiting game. Time ticks by at a pace criminally slow, but he grits his teeth and gets through it. Through the drag of each individual second, through the unbearable thoughts. And, of course, because this is just how anticipation works, as soon as the wait is over, the seconds are blurring, and he ends up there all too soon.

Outside your room.

He knocks and you open the door immediately, like you were waiting, too. It shouldn’t be that surprising, but he’s surprised anyway. He always is. 

You stand in the middle of the doorway, already dressed for bed. In pajama pants and a black shirt- his, he realizes, and his heart stutters. The neckline is loose and the fabric is creased and he doesn’t care. 

He steps in fast, nearly slamming the door behind him. You scramble back and laugh. “Nice to see you, too.”

Your room is cluttered and familiar and smells like perfume and you and fresh air- in the summertime, you like to sleep with the windows open. The sky leaks yellow-red-purple and you’re yellow-red-purple, especially pretty when you’re under him. 

He doesn’t know how he gets there. But he’s at the foot of the bed and you’re laying down, atop unwrinkled sheets and a really nice mattress stuffed with whatever they stuff really nice mattresses with, and he waits for you to arrange yourself, and then climbs on top of you.

It’s a practiced balance- pressing, but not pressure. You sigh and he’s so close that he can’t tell where he and you start and end, and his heart is actually rattling in his ribcage, elated and excited and indecisive with his hands- he doesn’t know what he wants to touch first.

They flicker about. Face, chest, neck, thigh, everywhere.

“Somebody’s eager tonight.” You laugh again, breathy and indecent.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he says, almost like a confession. He leans down to kiss you and misses.

He’s so fucking giddy that he misses- ex-assassin, military sniper background be damned- he misses bad. 

The kiss lands somewhere on your cheek. He isn’t suave enough to play something like that off, but you haven’t even noticed- your eyes are closed. He might as well kiss your eyelids, kiss in a circle. Kiss like dancing.

He does. Eyelids, and then skin, and then closer and closer and mouth.

He kisses your mouth and you bring a hand up to the back of his neck, tangling a delightfully harsh hand in his hair, wrapping a leg around his, biting his lip. His hands still; he thinks he might actually die.

The kisses devolve into something sloppy. You taste better than fruit, like mint. He’s cupping your face and you hum low, from the back of your throat all the way down to his bones. There’s some other white noise, traffic from below or the air conditioning or just the blood rushing in his own ears- he can’t make sense of any of it.

“What,” you rasp, and your voice is a shock, delirious and jarring and crystal-clear, “what kind of thoughts?”

Eagerness verges into impatience.

He rucks up your shirt- his shirt, not all the way but high enough. “This kind, sweetheart.”

You gasp when he touches skin, a live wire. “I- fuck, okay. I see.”

You’re trying to keep up, but he’s not done. He trails down to kiss your jaw, your neck. “This kind, baby.”

“Bucky,” you whine.

He wedges a knee in between your legs. “This kind, sugar.”

All the niceties he knows- just dripping, dripping, honeysweet. You’re nearly a shadow as the sun sinks, hazy and dark and indefinite.

You arch further into him, even closer. He presses further into you, running his hands up along your bare sides, stomach and abdomen and above. It’s not quite unleashing, but something akin to it.

A secret in nature, but not in intention. You’re perfect and mellow and never feel the need to throw your arms around him when he walks into a room. And sometimes he does, but he doesn’t think he’s there yet, and that’s okay. It works out, because instead he can come to your room at near-night and kiss you and take his shirt off of you and be as unhinged as he wants.

“Fucking hell, Bucky,” you say, syllables half-slurred. It’s too dark to be certain, but he thinks you shiver.

He’s dizzy when he pauses. You’re blinking like you’ve just woken up, slow and bleary-eyed.  He’s been gripping you, he realizes, hard- slowly, he relaxes his fingers. He leans away from you and rubs your skin and readjusts himself. He’s aching.

“You want me to slow down?” His voice is thick. 

He has trouble recognizing himself when he’s with you. In a good way, though.

Your teeth glitter with your smile. He doesn’t even know where your hands are- not until one curls over his shoulder and the other fists his shirt, yanking him all the way back down. Eyes dark, lights out.

“Don’t even think about it.” 

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Best Friends - Julian Spitzer (Mrs. Fletcher)

So, I watched Mrs. Fletcher recently...and omg Julian is the absolute cutest soft boy ever. I lob him bery much.

~~~~~~~~~~

Julian and I met in high school. We were both somewhat of outcasts and had a lot of the same bullies, so we had a lot to bond over.

Besides sharing Brendon Fletcher as our main bully, we also got along really well and had even more things in common. Same interests in music and moral and such.

The first time we met was actually when he was getting pushed around by Brendon. I saw this and intervened. I wasn’t that picked on before that, but I pissed off Brendon and damaged his fragile male ego. So in turn, I got bullied a lot more.

Julian felt bad about it, so he tried to ignore me so that I wouldn’t get bullied by association. It just made me want to be his friend even more.

Over time, we kept each other’s backs every time we got harassed. Julian didn’t really have much of a choice to not be my friend at that point. But in the end, we bonded really well and he was glad he had someone to rely on.

Now that high school was over, it was a big stress reliever for both of us. We both decided to go to community college. Julian was very intelligent and I believed he could get into any Ivy League he wanted, but he was too scarred by high school to do so.

In my case however, I didn’t really have a great GPA due to some...depressive states during school. So, community college was really my only option, but I didn’t mind it all that much. At least I got to be with Julian.

Julian and I pretty much had all the same general education classes, which made us both happy. But we were able to choose an extra curricular course, that was the only class we differed from. He chose some writing class and I chose theatre.

I teased Julian that he could totally fit the role of theatre kid, but he wanted to write more. I just had to suck it up, we couldn’t be together 24/7...unfortunately.

Being so protective of each other, I kind of developed a major crush on him over the years. It was problematic at times. I made sure Julian stayed oblivious though, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.

For some reason, Julian and I were at a party. An off to college type party. Surprisingly, Julian was the one who suggested it, to which I laughed until I realized he was serious.

I was absentmindedly circling the brim of my red solo cup filled with cheap, bitter beer. I wasn’t really a drinker, but I felt I had to be just a little bit buzzed to survive this party full of former jocks.

I didn’t really listen as Julian was keeping up a pleasant conversation with a couple people, feeling my apathy starting to act up.

I gasped when I felt the lukewarm beer splash in my face. I turned to see Brendon guffawing with his friends, finding it so hilarious that he kept throwing pieces of candy at me.

“What the fuck?” Julian shouted when he felt candy being thrown at him as well.

Brendon suddenly smiled wide. “Spitzer! Y/L/N!” He kept throwing candy at us. “That one was an accident, actually. Hold on.” He threw more.

“Oh, no. I’m being attacked by a cool guy with...candy.” Julian said, making you giggle the huff when you kept getting hit by the hardened sugar.

“Couldn’t you just bully us online? It’s like, what people do now.” Julian said.

Brendon smirked and walked up to us, throwing a wink my way. “Way more fun in person.”

I felt my blood boil just by looking at his face. “You’re gonna get to college and everybody’s gonna see exactly what you are, you know that right?” I spat, Julian looking at me proudly.

Brendon had a somewhat confused expression on his face, but chuckled. “That is some deep stuff, Y/N. Real deep.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to Julian. “Let’s just get out of here.” I said, taking his hand, but Brendon stopped us.

“Don’t, wait. Sorry, okay? Like...I feel like I was a dick to you, both of you. All though high school.” Brendon said.

I scoffed, remembering all the horrible shit he did to both of us. “Yeah?” Julian said.

“Uh, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Then why the hell were you even like that, huh?” I fussed at him.

Brendon avoided our eyes and looked down. “Ah, is that your phone?” He asked Julian.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Why don’t we end on a good note, take a picture.” Brendon forcefully grabbed Julian’s phone. “Let’s take a selfie, yeah?” He started to grab both of us, bringing us closer to his body.

Julian and I both struggled against the jock’s grip. I let out a frustrated huff when I felt Brendon’s hand grope my tit slightly. I knew it probably wasn’t an accident...asshole.

Brendon lifted up the phone and flipped the camera to selfie mode. “High school forever!” He said in a high pitched tone and snapped the picture, the product being blurry due to our struggle.

The douche finally let us both go. “Can I have my phone back now?” Julian asked annoyed.

“Yeah, of course.” Brendon said, dunking the phone into my red solo cup.

“Fucking asshole!” Julian yelled, immediately taking his now beer covered phone out of the cup. “Fuck.”

“You need some rice.” Brendon teased and walked away.

I huffed angrily, storming up to Brendon despite Julian’s protests. I tapped on his shoulder harshly and he turned around, wearing a smug smirk. “Eat shit, asshole.” I said, thrusting my cup up to his face.

Brendon’s face was drenched in beer, and my cup was now empty. He wiped the beer from his eyes and looked at me with a glare, raising his fist.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the painful impact, hearing the thud of colliding skin. But I didn’t feel any pain.

I turned to see Julian with a now bruised cheek. “Cunt.” Brendon spat as he passed me.

I quickly went to Julian, who was smiling slightly, showing his slightly blood coated teeth. “I’m so sorry, Julian.” I tried not to cry.

Julian shook his head. “Don’t be. Let’s just get out of here, like you said.”

I nodded, taking Julian’s hand once more and leading him out of the packed house and to my car. “Fucking limped dick asshole, piece of shit...” I continued mumbling profanities as I gripped my steering wheel tightly, making my knuckles turn white.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Julian looking at me with an eyebrow raised. “You good?” He asked nervously.

I huffed. “Yep. Perfect.”

“Uh...sure you are.”

“Brendon is such an asshole!” I raised my voice, making Julian flinch. “...sorry.”

The rest of the drive to Julian’s house was silent, not an uncomfortable silence but not comfortable either. “I’m sorry about tonight, Jules.” I whispered.

Julian smiled weakly, rubbing my shoulder gently. “At least he punched me and not you.” He said, making me blush. Thankfully, the headlights of the car didn’t illuminate my face that much.

“So, see you at school?” I smile at him.

Julian grinned and nodded. “I will.”

                                            ⚫ ⚫ ⚫

The next couple days were a blur, just preparing for the first week of college classes. I was excited, mostly for the hopefully pleasant experience of meeting nice people and helpful professors.

And of course, seeing Julian.

I wanted to carpool with him, but he insisted on taking his skateboard everywhere during the day. Thankfully, he was going to allow me to drive him to his only night class.

I walked down the decently busy halls of one of the many college buildings on campus in search of my first class of the day. Having a little pep in my step as I finally found the right hallway.

I grinned when I saw Julian standing outside the classroom, playing on his phone. “Well, hi there, classmate!” I smiled, causing Julian to jump at my sudden greeting.

“Hey.” He smiled back, reaching his hand out. “Nice to meet you!” I rolled my eyes and shook his hand, deciding to play along. “You look very familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” He joked.

“Shut up.” I laughed, pushing his shoulder.

“Well, shall we?” Julian motioned to the almost empty classroom.

“We shall.”

And a day full classes later, I could finally relax in my car listening to music with Julian. “I didn’t think it would be so exhausting walking everywhere. The classes weren’t bad since it was just going over the syllabus, but the walking...” I huffed.

Julian chuckled. “Yeah, the walking around we’ll have to get used to.”

I turned to face Julian. “So, excited for this night class?”

Julian nodded. “Totally. Since it’s an extra curricular, I’ll probably enjoy it more.”

“Well, I’ll pick you up later then?” I asked.

“Yep.” He said, opening up the passenger side door. “Don’t be late, please.”

“Me? Late? Never?” I giggled.

As I entered my home, I thought about about taking a nap. But then if I did, I knew I’d sleep in late. Getting homework done early it is.

A few more hours pass and it was probably time to pick up Julian. I got back in my car and drove to his place, to see him already sitting on his porch. “Wow, you’re on time.” He teased.

“Oh, hush. I know how much you hate being late to things.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” He smiled, buckling his seatbelts.

“Have fun.” I told him as he got out of the car when we got to the college parking lot.

“I’ll try.” He smiled again, closing the door and heading inside the building.

I decided to go to a Starbucks to pass the time, since the class was only half an hour. I also didn’t feel like going home, plus it’ll save gas.

I looked at my phone to check the time. Eh, I could probably head back over just in case the class gets out early. It didn’t, but I waited in the parking lot anyway. Just playing on my phone, trying to distract myself. It caused me to jump when the passenger side door opened suddenly. “Oh! It’s just you.” I laughed.

Julian got in the car with a bashful smile. “It me.” He giggled.

“What’s got you all smiley?” I asked.

“Uh...” He started, “There was this...gorgeous woman in my class.”

My curious smile quickly fell, turning into a slight frown. “Oh, really?” I tried to sound happy.

“It’s uh, Mrs. Fletcher.”

The awkward silence was suddenly filled by my obnoxious laughter, making Julian frown. “Brendon’s mom? Isn’t she like, 50?”

“I don’t know...” Julian mumbled.

“Julian, you can’t be serious. Right?” Julian said nothing, thus making a silent confirmation that he was being serious. “Oh...” I frowned, suddenly feeling an ache in my chest. “Well...I’m happy for you then.”

...I guess.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, Julian would go on and on about this Mrs. Fletcher every day. Which was annoying since I was with him almost every day. It took a lot for me to not yell at him to shut up, but wouldn’t do that to him...I hope.

It hurt a lot, knowing that Julian was into another girl...well, woman. All the times he talked about her, I wished it was about me instead.

It made me feel selfish for feeling that way. Mrs. Fletcher was probably a nice woman, compared to her son at least. But I keep thinking of ways to murd- “Y/N?”

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Julian. “Sorry, what?” I asked.

“You weren’t here.” He said, looking concerned.

I smiled weakly. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Julian didn’t look convinced, but shook his head. “Well, as I was saying, Eve isn’t 50. She’s 45. But she looks like she’s in her goddamn 20′s.”

“She’s probably made of plastic...” I mumbled out accidently.

“Hey!” Julian shouted, laughing off his slight offense.

“Sorry. It’s just...we’re supposed to be studying.” I sigh.

Julian held up his hands up in fake surrender. “You’re right. You’re right.” He looked back to his notes. “But one more thing-”

“Oh my god, Julian! I don’t wanna hear about Mrs. Fletcher and her perfect personality, perfect body, and her perfect everything! I’m fucking sick of hearing you go on and on about how much you like her and how you feel a connection!”

Julian looked at me with a shocked and hurt expression, making me sigh and rub my hands over my face. “Why?” He asked quietly.

“I...” I stuttered, sighing and standing up from the bed to gather up all my textbooks, quickly leaving his room before he even got a chance to ask why I was leaving.

I heard Julian run after me, but I made it to the door, promptly tripping over my own feet before I even made it to my car. My textbooks flew everywhere as I rolled over on my back with a groan, mostly hurt from embarrassment.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Julian quickly ran and kneeled beside me. “Please, tell me you’re okay.”

I sighed. “Yeah...yeah, I’m okay.” I sat up to meet Julian’s concerned puppy dog eyes.

“Why did you just leave like that, huh? What’s the matter with you?”

I closed my eyes, not wanting to pour out all my hidden feelings for this pretty boy. But I knew he wasn’t going to let me ignore him. “I like you, okay?” I said suddenly. “I hate listening to you talk about Eve cause I’m jealous. I want you to feel that way about me, not some woman who’s more than twice your age.

Julian stayed silent, making me sigh. “I do want you to be happy, Jules. And if that’s with Eve then...I just have to learn to accept it.” I paused. “I should go.” I whispered, lifting myself off the concrete.

Julian stayed crouched to the ground as I gathered my fallen textbooks and opened my car door to toss them in the backseat. “Y/N, wait.” I heard Julian say from behind me.

I reluctantly turned around to face him. “What is it, Jul-”

I was cut off by Julian placing his lips onto mine. My eyes widened, shocked about what was taking place. Julian pulled away, too fast.

“I’ve like you for such a long time, Y/N. Ever since you saved me from Brendon three years ago. I was into Eve because...well, I didn’t think you felt that way about me.”

My mouth hung open in shock, not knowing what to say. “I had no idea you felt that way about me either...obviously.” I chuckled nervously.

Julian smiled, tenderly rubbing my cheek with his thumb. He leaned in again, but I pulled back. “What about Eve?” I asked.

“I don’t care about her anymore. You’ve always been my number one.”

I smiled and blushed. We both leaned in at the same time, our lips colliding in a passionate kiss that was now filled with understanding and longing.

It took a lot of willpower to pull away from Julian, wanting to stay like this forever. “So, do you wanna be my boyfriend?” I asked timidly.

“Absolutely...girlfriend.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A bit of a stray from my previous post, jesus 😅

[insteadoflight]

asr, who did not wake

There’s a woman waiting at the gate. Asr doesn’t recognize her; she’s fat and in tight jeans, and sunglasses. Her shirt has the floral pattern of the sort that Asr’s mother liked to wear. “You’re late,” the woman says. “Pardon?” “You,” the woman says, and points directly at Asr, “are late.” “I didn’t realize we’d met.” Asr tries to remember meeting her, and fails, and defaults to manners. “Is there something you need?” “We haven’t met, yet,” the woman says, and approaches Asr. She’s tall. Intimidating. The sort of woman who could say she’s actually the queen of the universe, and Asr wouldn’t doubt it. “You’re Asr, correct?” “Y…yes?” Asr steps back, and the woman follows. She pushes up her sunglasses with one finger. “Sorry, really, where…how do you know that?” Because Asr is a secret name—one no one but Asr, and apparently this woman, knows. The woman smiles coldly. “It’s written all over your face.”

Asr reaches up to check and discovers, horrifically, that there isn’t a face where there should be. There aren’t hands where there should be.

Asr is just a floating conscience.

“Where…where am I?” Asr asks, looking around, again, looking at the gate that looms and doesn’t gleam and at the darkness, thick and solid. “What is this place?”

“Hell,” the woman says, and grins.

Asr wakes up.

There’s the soft pat-pat-pat of a knock at the door and Asr stands up and out of bed and is relieved to find feet where they should be, and hands, and a face to touch. A nose. Asr never realized how important it was to touch a nose.

“Coming!” Asr calls, and hurries across the room.

There’s the soft pat-pat-pat of a gentle patient knock.

There’s a wooden bar hung across the front of the door, and Asr picks it up and gently puts it to one side. The chair at the base of the door is cold wood on Asr’s legs.

The first deadbolt gets unlocked.

Asr slides chain number the bottom to one side. Chain number the middle to one side. Twists the knob for deadbolt number four.

“Open up!” The pat-pat-pat of the knock comes again, still gentle.

“Just a minute,” Asr says, and knocks the chair away from the front of the door, and goes back to the locks, fingers working and the thunk-thunk of deadbolts and clink-clink of chains noisy.

Asr yanks deadbolt number three to one side, and reaches up to the key on the hook over the door, and unlocks it. Reaches down, and pulls chain number the bottom into the open position, and chain number the middle to one side. Slide for deadbolt two gets undone, and then twist the knob for deadbolt four.

Unlock the first deadbolt.

The third deadbolt is undone by Asr lifting the thing.

There’s a harder pat-pat-pat of the door. “Come on! Open up!”

The voice has deepened.

Cold creeps up from the soles of Asr’s bare feet in realization.

Asr slowly, carefully slides chain number the bottom into the open position.

Twist the knob for deadbolt four.

Chain number the top.

There are still deadbolts and chains and a padlock to unlock, a padlock that Asr knows wasn’t there a second ago. It glints cheerfully with shining steel.

The pat-pat-pat comes again. Hard. Demanding.

“Let. Me. In.”

A hand on the doorknob. A twist of it, even with the locks still done.

“Come in,” Asr says, throat dry.

The door swings inwards.

There’s no one there. On the other side of the door is a dim hallway, lit red by the faint glow of a far off exit sign. Metal doors line the hallway, with numbers like 2839B and 7693C and 1293D and Asr pokes their head out, slowly.

“Hello?”

Asr falls.

Asr lands in a playground, on asphalt. It’s familiar—from childhood. The sun gleams bright overhead, and over there is the bodega outside of which Asr got dumped for the first time. There are the monkey bars. Asr remembers slick hands, and the painful crack of a bone. There is the metal slide, and the child at the top slams their feet against the metal and yells thunderrrrrrrrrrr

“Thunderrr,” Asr says, and stands. There’s a smear of blood on the pavement, from Asr’s knee. The sun is hot, and sticky overhead.

Asr looks up, and the sun drips down the porcelain blue of the sky, in long, think strands of vanilla ice cream. Asr reaches up and how funny is it, to reach up to ice cream instead of down, and takes a long lick from the fingertip that has the ice cream.

It tastes like salt.

Asr’s arm drops.

“Hey!” the shout is from a smoking woman with a stroller, bony. She wears sunglasses, and a tight tanktop. Her skirt is floral. She has no shoes. The sun shifts overhead, and coolness falls on Asr’s shoulders. “The hell you doing here?”

“I—I fell,” Asr says. There are children playing hide and seek around the collumns. “Sorry. I think I’m on a bad high.” That would explain the locks, and the ice cream sun.

Although how Asr knows its a bad high—when there’s no memory of pills, or of flame and smoke, no memory.

No memory.

The sun looms down, dripping fat drops of ice cream onto the asphalt. It’s yellow. Mango, maybe, and Asr reaches down to taste it and yes, this time, it tastes like sugar.

The sun is thick.

“Yeah, you’re definitely high,” the woman says, sounding furious.

But there’s no feeling of floating, or of a buzz, and Asr’s feet stomps to ensure the ground is solid and present and close by.

No feeling.

“I didn’t mean to be here,” Asr says, apologetically.

“Then get the fuck out of the playground!” the woman yells, and Asr’s ears ring.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The ice cream river carries Asr away.

There’s a tea table on this barge, and the teapot on the table steams pink steam. It smells, when it wafts over to Asr, like strawberries.

Asr has never heard of strawberry tea.

The barge horn echoes.

A voice crackles, from over an intercom: Sit, and have some tea.

Asr remembers locks, and sits.

There’s fog around the barge, thick and swirling and faintly smelling of sweet, and the steam from the teapot swirls into it.

“How do…are there cups?” Asr asks. “I need a cup.”

The barge horn wails.

Pour, comes the voice over the intercom.

Asr, not one to question strange voices from unseen speakers on a barge that vanishes into sweet smelling fog, and the faint sound of a river lapping below sounding hungry for disobedient people named Asr, picks up the teapot and tips it to pour. A cup catches it, and the cup is a pale blue porcelain. When the liquid splashes into it, the cup turns green.

The liquid, on the otherhand, is a pale orange.

“Strawberry orange tea?” Asr asks. The waves lap loudly at the barge.

Drink, the voice comes.

This time, the barge horn howls second.

The tea, if it is tea, tastes like mint, and is icy against Asr’s teeth.

The water laps at the side of the barge, and Asr leans over to look and suddenly is at the edge of the barge, staring down into fog that deepens to maroon and below is black water.

“Are you thirsty?” Asr asks. When all else fails, have manners.

The barge horn echoes, and this time there is no voice over unseen speakers.

“Alright, then,” Asr says.

The cup is emptied over the side.

Asr melts.

Asr stands in darkness. There is a gate, up ahead, and feet, down below, though with certainty Asr knows these feet belong to someone else. Indeed, when the feet step fowards, Asr is left alone, behind.

Asr, after a moment, realizes, after turning and still seeing the gate, is darkness.

A woman stands.

That was the feet. The woman—that was the feet.

There’s the woman on the other side of the gate, and a dip in the darkness.

“Who are you?” Asr calls, running without legs, without arms to pump the air this place exists without. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” The woman turns, and looks through the bars of the gate. “Have a good evening, Asr.”

And Asr falls.

And in the morning, Asr cannot wake.

[talkfastromance4]

Love So Sweet-- boxer!Luke AU

I’ve finally finished this! This is the longest thing I’ve ever posted in one go. I originally wanted to do this in parts but I have too many in parts I’m still posting now lol. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it! And yes, the title is from TEETH and you’ll see why at the end ;)

Word Count: 19.6k

Warnings: swearing, fighting, drinking (only casually), smut and sexual occurrences, unsolicited hitting on a girl at the bar, mentions of domestic abuse/violence

Masterlist

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Without further ado, enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts on this I’d LOVE to hear your feedback! :)

____________________________________

Luke Hemmings is a player and a boxer, the ultimate troubled duo. He’s the best fighter at Seconds of Summer gymnasium/arena and he goes through women like his fights, quick, fast and onto the next one. Even though the girls know they won’t get a second call from the devastatingly handsome fighter, they were still his entourage at every fight. Cheering him on and wearing scantily clad outfits.

Luke’s been undefeated since the start of the season, but that was all about to change on Friday night when he saw, quite possibly, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. She’s standing with her arms across her chest while he slips into the ring. Calum is murmuring tactics in his ear but he’s only half listening. He’s watching the dark haired beauty chew on her nail while she listens to her friend, who Luke recognizes is Penelope, or Nell. Nell is dating Calum.

Excellent.

“Bro, did you hear me? He’s quick on his feet so be wary,” Calum claps his friend on the back and Luke nods, sneaking one more glance at the pretty girl.

The sound of the bell signifies the start of the match and Luke began the dance he knows all too well. His height makes it difficult for him to move as fast as his opponents but it anchored him well enough to throw some great punches and uppercuts.

He won the first round, but he kept peeking at the new girl during the second. She wasn’t even really paying attention, instead she was scrolling through her phone or talking with Nell who was watching Luke adamantly. At least she was interested.

“Come on, Luke! Get your head in!” Calum shouts from behind and Luke regains his focus on the opponent dancing opposite him.

Luke took a running start and flipped the guy over his shoulder so he fell onto his back, his body making a loud thud and the crowd went crazy. Luke tucks a loose curl from his bun behind his ear and he strolls over to where Nell and the pretty girl were.

His usual gaggle of girls scream his name as he approached but the girl he was keen on noticing him was completely oblivious. That irritated him. Why come to a match if you aren’t going to watch?

Luke sighs and winks at his fans who squealed in response. The ding of the third and final round sounded and he turned around and was met with a hard fist to his jaw. It causes Luke to stagger as he rubs his jaw, the taste of pennies fills his mouth. He spits out fresh blood and curses at himself. This girl is getting in his head and he doesn’t even know what the hell her name is.

He lunges for his opponent but he’s tripped up, falling hard onto the floor and the guy is on top of him. Luke hears so much noise and the sound of flesh hitting flesh, then he thinks of the girl and with all his willpower he flips himself over with a loud grunt. He has the other guy pinned by the neck and the ref counts to ten.

A double bell sounds the end of the match and Luke clambers off his opponent. Calum and his two other best friends, Michael and Ashton, are jumping on him in victory. The crowd is going nuts, Luke’s breathing is heavy and his eyes scan the crowd for Nell and the girl but they’re gone.

He almost lost because of her and she didn’t even fucking witness his win. Unbelievable.

• • • •

“Why are you in such a mood? You’re on your tenth win!” Michael exclaims while they’re at their favorite bar, Charlie’s after the match.

“Thought I was going to break that streak tonight, Mike,” Luke says tipping his beer bottle to his lips.

“Yeah, what happened that second round?” Calum asks.

“I dunno, I got in my head,” he shrugs. He glances at the door just as Nell walks in searching for Cal. The girl he saw is close beside her. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Hey guys!” Nell greets excitedly then looks to Luke, “congrats on the win, big man. Ten and counting.”

“Thanks, Nell,” Luke grins brushing his curls back with both hands, his eyes roaming over to the brown haired beauty.

She’s standing awkwardly playing with the pendant of her necklace. Luke can see her eyes are a deep blue.

“Oh! Everyone, this is my cousin, Evie. Evie these are Calum, Ashton, Michael, and the champion over there is Luke,” Nell introduces pointing to each person.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all,” Evie gives a small wave to the group, her eyes slide over to Luke whose gaze hasn’t left her.

“She just moved here from Wisconsin,” Nell continues finding a comfortable spot in Calum’s lap who kisses her cheek affectionately.

“Well, welcome to sunny LA,” Ashton laughs with his arms open.

“Thanks,” she smiles a bit awkwardly and Luke can tell she’s shy.

As annoyed as he is that she distracted him earlier, he finds it endearing. He can feel she’s got a thick wall up and he wants to do anything in his power to knock it down. Just as long as she doesn’t keep getting into his head during fights.

• • • •

The next time he saw Evie was at his next match, and just like the first one, she wasn’t watching. She was on her phone or looking anywhere and everywhere around her except for at Luke and the ring. He almost lost again, but when that thought entered his mind it made him angry so he ended up winning anyway.

Ashton was throwing an after party at his place, lo and behold, Evie was off to the corner nursing a drink in her hand while Calum and Nell were on the opposite corner near the beer pong table... Her dissociation irritated Luke and it increased each time he saw her doing. Taking a quick shot and leaving the platinum blonde who was flirting with him mirthlessly in midsentence, he makes his way over to her.

She looks up at him, giving him a weak smile then turns her attention to the contents in her cup as she swirls it in her hand.

“You’re not a people person, are you, sweetheart?” Luke asks under his breath sidling closer to her. Normally he uses the form of endearment on his gaggle of girls as part of his tactic to get them into his bed, but it drips condescension with Evie.

“What do you mean?”

“At the matches and the bar you’re on your phone and now here,” he tilts his head down to look at her, his height overpowering, “you’re in the corner like a pretty little wallflower.”

“I’m not bothering anybody, so what’s the big deal?” she shrugs.

Luke is surprised at her retort to be honest. He thought the quiet, shy girl wouldn’t have a bite in her so he grins devilishly. “It bothers me,” he says lowly digging his hands in his black jeans.

Evie’s eyebrows raise in response. “How?”

“It bothers me how you’re always on your bloody phone when you come to a fight. You get in my head and it messes up my game. I’ve almost lost twice now because of you.”

“How exactly is that my fault? Why are you watching me anyway when you should be fighting?” her big blue eyes turn steely, he notices her sky blue manicured fingers tighten on her red solo cup.

“You distract me.”

“That sounds like your problem, not mine.”

“Evie! Come take a shot!” Nell shouts from across the room. Without another word, Evie skips around Luke’s large frame to join her cousin and his friends.

He sets his jaw and watches her go, wondering what the fuck this chick is doing with his head.

• • • •

The group of friends decided to go to a bar downtown. It was nothing like Charlie’s. It was more of a club than a bar because of the bouncers out front with a velvet rope and a massive line stretching down the sidewalk.

Luke is surprised to see Evie has joined them and even more surprised at the outfit she’s wearing. Normally when he’d see her at the ring she has on leggings and a simple shirt. Now she’s sporting black high-waisted shorts with a red sparkly tank top, he can’t help but notice the perfect amount of cleavage showing either.

Evie gives him a small smile in greeting when she walks past him. The smell of her perfume—roses and something fruity—are left in her wake leaving him momentarily stunned.

“You all right, man?” Calum asks walking by with Nell on his arm.

“Yeah, fine,” Luke mumbles following them inside the bar.

It’s dark and hazy from the random smoke machines that would go off with the bass drop of the songs. It’s crowded too and Luke searches for Evie only to find her up front leading the pack while he takes up the rear. The shortest and shyest girl of the group is leading them through the bar?

He sighs in slight irritation when he realizes he’ll have to keep his eye on her for the night so she doesn’t get into a compromising situation. He knows how guys’ minds work and Evie has that perfect innocent look with those big eyes of hers that draws you in.

Once they’re up at the bar he orders a round of shots first, something simple like a lemon drop. The group gathers in a big circle clinking their glasses and Luke’s eyes stay glued to Evie as she sucks the sugar off the lemon and licks left over sugar off her lips.

Luke orders another shot for himself. This is going to be a long fucking night.

The drinks flowed constantly and the girls danced along to the music. Luke had even saw a prospect of a girl across the bar but when he heard Evie shriek in laughter he was pulled right back to his unofficial post of watching out for her.

He tells Calum he’s heading to the bathroom quick who nods and Luke gives one more look at Evie. She’s leaning against the bar sipping on her drink listening to whatever Nell is telling her. Luke slips by dancing bodies quick as he can, now that he’s heading to the bathroom the need to relieve himself has increased.

When he’s finished he splashes water on his face and gazes at himself in the mirror. His eyes are bluer and he realizes he’s not even drunk because he’s been so preoccupied watching out for Evie.

Sighing at his reflection, he heads out of the bathroom but when he returns to his group, Evie isn’t in sight.

“Hey, where’d Evie go?” Luke asks Ashton who’s talking to some girl with bright orange eye shadow on.

“Uh, bathroom,” Ashton answers then turns back to orange eyeshadow girl.

Luke sighs scanning the crowd for her face before ordering a beer. Nell is making out with Calum against the bar so she clearly didn’t accompany Evie to the bathroom. He takes tender sips of his beer scanning constantly for Evie’s red shimmering top.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he spots her weaving in between people and Luke stands up a little straighter as she approaches. He frowns when he sees the look on her face then spots a guy behind her clearly trying to get her attention. Luke’s grip on his beer tightens, coaxing her to get to their group faster silently in his head.

When the guy grabs onto her wrist and waist pulling her against him, Luke springs into action. He slams his beer bottle on the bar top and stalks over to Evie.

“Let me go,” her voice is high as she tries to break free from the stranger but Luke is stronger.

He wedges himself in between Evie and this asshole easily, he pushes Evie behind him then glares at asshole.

“Hey man, I had her first—“

“She didn’t want you,” Luke says, his voice steely. “Walk away.”

“Whatever,” asshole scoffs shaking his head, “fucking tease of a slut anyway.”

The next thing Luke knows his fist has connected with the guy’s jaw causing him to stumble backwards into a throng of people. There’s gasps then Calum and Ashton are beside Luke when the asshole regains his footing. When he sees two other large men standing before him, he rubs his jaw then ducks away back into the crowd.

“What the hell was that?” Calum asks Luke in alarm.

Luke ignores him and instead turns around to look at Evie who’s being consoled by Nell. Her eyes are wide in shock and she’s clearly visibly shaken and what just happened.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks sincerely taking a hesitant step forward.

Her nod is jerky while she rubs her wrist, Nell is rubbing her back and hugging her to her side. Luke nods then puts a couple twenties on the bar to cover the rest of their drinks.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says and everyone agrees quickly.

He makes sure Evie is in front with Nell, Ashton and Calum are on his side as they basically escort the girls from the bar. The car ride was silent, the altercation sobering everyone up pretty quickly. Luke is only half listening to Calum berate him for punching someone outside of the ring but Luke would do it again in a heartbeat.

His breath catches at the realization.

Nell decides to stay the night with Evie and the guys want one more drink so they were going to go to Charlie’s but before they drove off Evie approaches the passenger side door. Luke rolls the window down.

“Thank you, for what you did,” she thanks him.

“You’re welcome,” he grunts clearing his throat. Their gaze holds for a moment before she nods then retreats to the entrance of her apartment.

• • • •

Luke tried to get Evie out of his head by getting someone else underneath him. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes while he was pounding into the girl he picked up at the end of his practice match that he realized he picked her out from the crowd only because her hair was the same color as Evie’s.

He closed his eyes again and focused on reaching his climax but it only made it worse because all he saw were Evie’s big, dark blue eyes.

Well, that didn’t work.

At his next match three weeks later, Evie is with Nell with the others surrounding them. She was still on her phone but not as often as the first couple times. That eased Luke a little. Slightly. Not really.

At Ashton’s that night he finally corners her because he needs answers. He pulls her out on the balcony, the summer breeze cools his burned temper slightly and she stares up at him in shock, her mouth open slightly. Luke tried not let her pink lips distract him.

“Why come?” he demands shoving his hands in his pockets

“What?”

“Why come to the match when you don’t even watch? Whoever you’re texting on your phone is more important so why come?”

“What is your deal with me Luke? You have a whole group of girls watching you, why does it matter so much what I do?”

“Because! You’re there with Nell then you act like we’re all beneath you or something. Like we’re not important enough for your time. It’s aggravating.”

“You want to know why I’m on my phone?” her voice changes and her eyes harden.

“Yes.”

“You really want to know why I don’t watch your fights?” Her normal soft voice is now monotonous with a hint of hysteria at the end.

“Yes,” he chuckles sardonically. “These are really simple questions.”

“Fine!” She throws her arms up as if in defeat. “I’m on my phone because my friends back home keep me updated on where my ex is. I can’t watch you fight because that’s what my ex did to me. Broken jaw? He gave me one. A split lip? I’ve had three. I’ve been bruised and beaten and I only come because Nell is my favorite cousin but I can’t tell her any of this because she loves it. There, are you satisfied now?”

Luke is frozen in his spot. He wasn’t expecting any of that and now he feels like a complete ass. His shock is quickly replaced with anger at whoever her ex is because any man who hits a woman is the lowest of the low and the scum of the earth.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Now you do know,” she scoffs pushing past him and forces the glass door open. It slams against the wall as she stalks past their friends.

“Evie, wait!” he calls after her but she’s already rushing out Ashton’s front door. Everyone is calling her name then turn to Luke.

“What happened?” Nell asks worriedly.

“I messed up,” Luke mutters. “Fuck!” he runs his fingers through his curls in exasperation.

Nell runs out the door after her cousin and the others look at Luke waiting for an explanation but he won’t give them one. He’s not going to air Evie’s secret. He wanted to get her walls down but he never could have imagined the warzone he’d find behind it.

• • • •

Evie isn’t at his match the following Friday and it brings a bit pit to his stomach, he feels awful about what she admitted to him. After he practically bullied her into confessing it in the first place. After his win, he jogs to Nell who is looking somber.

“Where’s Evie?” he pants.

“Home. She wasn’t feeling well,” she responds stoically. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s being more withdrawn than normal. You better apologize or do something to fix this Luke.”

“I will,” he nods frantically.

After his shower, Ashton is waiting for him by his cubby where his clothes are.

“What happened with you and Evie?” Ashton asks calmly.

“I really fucked up, Ash,” Luke sighs shaking his head.

“What’d you do?”

“I confronted her about being on her phone during my fights and . . . you can’t tell Nell this, but Evie’s ex was abusive. She said she’s had a broken jaw and a split lip and who knows what else. I think that’s why she moved, to get away from him.”

“Shit,” Ashton mutters looking at his feet. His hazel eyes are hardened when he looks back up at Luke. “You better fix this. Nell said she’s been real torn up.”

“I know. It’s all my fault. Do you know her apartment number? I want to go apologize.”

• • • •

Luke takes a deep breath before buzzing Evie’s apartment number.

“Yes? Who is this?” she asks over the intercom.

“It’s me, Luke. Can I come up? I want to talk to you.”

“We did enough talking, Luke.”

“No! Please, Evie. It’s really important,” he begs. It’s silent on her end of the speaker for about ten seconds then he hears the buzz of the door unlocking.

He bounds to the elevator and rushes to her door on the third floor. He knocks twice on her door and it opens wide to reveal Evie in sleep shorts and a thin hoodie. Even with no make-up, she still made Luke’s heart skip a beat.

“What’s so important?” she folds her arms.

“Can I come in?” he asks softly.

Evie sighs with her lips pursed contemplating until she finally steps back into her apartment with Luke trailing in behind her. He glances around her apartment, it’s warm and inviting with a fresh scent he can’t quite place. It feels very homey with pictures and art on her walls, fluffy rugs and blankets on her couch.

“What do you want, Luke?” she asks softly.

His eyes finally land her, really taking her appearance in. Her hair is curly in a low ponytail, she’s got dark circles under her eyes as if she hasn’t been sleeping well. That makes him feel worse.

“I want to apologize for last week. I’m so sorry Evie, if I would have known—“

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” she admits quietly, “I wanted to come here because it’s far from him. I dyed my hair and wanted to start over.”

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, his sorrow heavy in his words.

“You said that already,” she flashes a small smile but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

“And I’ll keep saying it until it takes away how big of an ass I was to you. I’m not normally like that, I don’t know why it bothered me so much.”

“You’re used to girls watching your every move then throwing themselves at you,” she shrugs. “No big deal.”

“It is a big deal. I don’t want you to ever feel unsafe when you’re around me. And now I realize what I did at the bar probably made you terrified of me but I don’t—“he shakes his head. “When I fight it’s strictly tactical and in the ring. I do training everyday, I’ve been fighting since I was—“

“I’m not scared of you, Luke.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” she sighs. “And what happened at the bar . . . yeah it was scary but if you didn’t punch him who knows what that guy would have done. It’s just with the fights . . . the sounds bring it all back. What he did to me.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Can I make us some tea or something? Do you want to talk about it? Or, not talk about it? We can talk about anything else.”

“Tea sounds nice.”

• • • •

“It hasn’t really hit yet that I’m free of him, Danny is his name” she shakes her head while they’re sitting on her couch. A movie is playing on her TV while they’ve been talking. “Bad choice of words but I’m scared he’ll find me.”

“I won’t let him. He’ll have to come through me first.”

“He doesn’t stand a chance,” she smiles and he returns it.

“How long were you with him?”

“A year. My longest relationship and of course this is what happens.”

“I’m sorry you went through that. Why haven’t you told Nell?”

“Because she’d want me to go to the police but it wouldn’t do any good.”

“Why? Then you wouldn’t have to keep checking behind your shoulder if he followed you here.”

“If anything he’d get six months.”

“Did you get photo evidence?”

“Yeah.”

“Then he’d be locked up for sure—“

“Luke, you and I both know he wouldn’t. He’s conniving and he’d pay his way out of it which would only make it worse for me,” she snuggles a big white pillow against her chest.

They’re silent for a few moments watching the movie but Luke has no idea what is going on with the plot.

“You need some sleep,” he peers down at her worriedly. The dark circles under her eyes seemed to have gotten darker since he first arrived.

“Which is another way of saying ‘you look like shit,’ thanks,” she chuckles nuzzling closer into the pillow.

“No that’s not—“he sighs shaking his head. “Your eyes look sleepy, that’s all. Have you had trouble sleeping?”

“Lately, yeah,” she admits, her eyes roam over the characters on the screen. The light from the TV glows on her face, his heart aches at how tired she looks.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

“That might be awhile,” she warns.

“Good thing your couch is comfy,” he throws a blanket over her and stretches his legs out on the L-shaped portion of the couch, “and can hold a giant like me.”

She chuckles softly as he burrows further into the cushions, draping a blanket onto himself as well. He really likes how she has so many. It makes him feel cozy.

“Thanks, Luke.”

• • • •

Luke’s not quite sure what jolts him awake, but when his body jerks he has a momentary lapse of memory where he is. The TV is going through featured Netflix shows and movies when he looks down to see Evie has somehow scooted herself closer to him in her sleep. Her pillow is against his right side and her hand is clutching the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Luke smiles down at her then searches for the remote, it’s tucked in front of her. He pulls it away then uses the flashlight on his phone to figure out the buttons. Once the screen goes black, Evie stirs next to him mumbling incoherently, her fingers flexing on his sweatshirt.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he hushes, “just turning the TV off. Go back to sleep.”

She hums in acknowledgment and Luke tries to stand up without jostling her.

“Don’t go,” she sighs sleepily.

Luke freezes. Did she really say that?

“Are you sure?” he asks a bit louder.

“Stay,” she nods with her eyes still closed, “please.”

• • • •

His little sleepover with Evie from the night before has been running through Luke’s mind all day. Instead of straying his focus it has somehow kept him more on target with his punches and dodges from Calum as they practice in the ring. When he moves to the bag he’s imagining it to be the face of her ex, he doesn’t know what he looks like but he punches it as hard as he can anyway.

Once he’s finished practice and showered he calls up Evie who answers it cautiously.

“Hey, it’s me, Luke,” he says wondering why she answered that way.

“Oh thank God,” she exhales, “I thought—“

“Shit,” Luke closes his eyes slamming his head back against his seat, “I’m sorry. Of course you’d be weary because you don’t have my number and would think it’s—I’m sorry, Evie.”

“It’s all right, Luke,” she chuckles, “I’m good. What’s up? How’d you get my number anyway?”

“Nell gave it to me. I just finished practice, would you want to grab a bite to eat?”

• • • •

Evie is giggling hard behind her hand as Luke finished his embarrassing story. They were at a diner not too far from her apartment where she ordered a grilled cheese with a strawberry milkshake and a plate of fries in the center of the table.

“Ashton really thought baby turtles were tadpoles?” she snorts and it’s so damn cute Luke thinks his smile is going to be permanently stuck on his face.

“That’s closer than his second guess of thinking they’re mosquitoes,” he chortles popping a fry in his mouth.

The booth they’re currently sitting in is in the far corner by the window and he’s got his arm around the back of the booth but when Evie shifts, his fingers will brush her shoulder. His initial irritation for her is long gone and he hates himself for even feeling that way in the first place.

Now, he feels nothing but calmness when he’s with her, sitting here feels so natural and easy. When he picked her up at her apartment she told him she slept all day after he left to go to practice. Her eyes appeared brighter and she didn’t look so sleepy anymore which pleased Luke.

“You boys are funny,” she snickers taking a hearty sip of her shake.

“Excuse me, I’m a man,” he squeezes her shoulder and she leans into him.

“If you say so,” she giggles then picks up her phone at a buzzed notification. Apparently it’s irrelevant because she locks it right away then nudges him. “Don’t you have a fight in a few hours?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “I don’t need to be there until 7. Fight’s at eight.” He plucks up a French fry, dips it in ketchup and holds it in front of her mouth.

Without a thought she takes it and chews slowly as if she’s thinking of something to say.

“You don’t have to come, Evie,” he tells her gently watching her as her eyebrows furrow together.

“I know,” she nods then says more softly, “but I want to see you.”

“You can see me after. We’ll probably be at Charlie’s or I can come to your place and watch Friends.”

“I just won’t watch, I promise I’ll be fine,” she insists.

Luke knows he should convince her more to stay at her apartment but the thought of not seeing her for almost two hours doesn’t sit well with him. Her presence has impacted him greatly these past few weeks.

She nods again then rests her head on his shoulder. Her willingness to do that jumpstarts his heart and he rubs her shoulder. He wishes there was a way she could watch him fight without memories creeping up from her past.

Then, suddenly, he has a thought.

• • • •

When it’s almost time for him to fight, Luke grabs the small box from his cubby and moves to the door. Calum yells at him.

“I’ll be right back, I have to give Evie something,” he says dismissively then exits the locker room.

Cheers and calls fill his ears immediately as he enters the darkened ring area. He pushes through the bodies easily knowing where exactly Evie is standing. He spots her in between Ashton and Nell and sure enough, she’s on her phone.

“Luke, what are you doing?” Ashton asks.

Luke’s stomach flips when Evie’s head snaps up at the mention of his name, he smiles easily and she returns it. He pulls the box out of the pocket of his hoodie and pulls Evie aside, her hand is warm and comforting in his large one.

“Shouldn’t you be in the locker room?” she asks with a smile.

“In a minute. I got something for you,” he hands her the box.

Evie looks up at him in confusion before sliding it open then she gasps, her eyes are wide when she looks up at him again. They’re air pods.

“Luke, this is—“

“I sent you a link to a playlist on my Spotify,” he talks over her, “put these in, listen to it and you won’t have to hear the punches.”

Her mouth hangs open as she stares at the gift and then moves to her phone to find the playlist he was talking about. He titled it as her name with a blue heart next to it.

“They’re some of my favorite songs, and others made me think of you,” he shrugs sheepishly.

“Luke,” she shakes her head again then launches herself in his arms to hug him tightly.

He wraps his arms around her tightly, lifting her slightly off the ground because of their height difference.

“You’re so sweet,” she says into his neck and he shivers. Her arms release from his neck and he sets her down on the ground again. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he grins then looks above her head at the ring. It’s almost his turn. “Come on, let’s get you back to Ashton and Nell before Calum comes out here and kills me.”

Before he does go back in the locker room, he helps her sync the air pods and slips them in her ears. She snatches his hand and leans up to kiss his cheek murmuring, ‘good luck.’

That night is the fastest Luke has won a match because he still felt Evie’s kiss on his cheek. It fueled his adrenaline and fueled his desire for her more. He showered quickly so he could go out to her and she was the first one to congratulate him and hug him on his win. He would have just loved to hold her as long as possible but his other friends wanted to show their congratulations as well.

After some small chit chat they all decided to head to Ashton’s place to drink in celebration.

“Ride with me?” he asks her as they walk out of the building hand in hand. Their group is loud to their cars but Luke and Evie are in their own little world.

“Okay,” she smiles sweetly up at him.

After a few rounds of drinks, Ashton’s living room has gotten a little stuffy. Luke stepped away for a minute to use the bathroom and when he returned Evie was nowhere in sight. He began to panic slightly when Calum jerked his head to the balcony where the doors were opened partly. Luke nodded his thanks and slipped outside to find Evie leaning against the cement wall staring out at the skyline.

“Cooler out here, yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she sighs, “You found me.”

“I had a little help from Cal,” he grins sidling up next to her.

“Man, he ruined it.”

Luke laughs. “Did the earphones help?”

“They did,” she turns her head to look at him. His back is against the wall but he’s been staring at her the whole time. “You didn’t have to do that though, those are expensive.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You’re something else, Luke Hemmings.”

“You’re something spectacular, Evie Carson,” he nudges her playfully and she blushes.

“No, I’m not.”

“But you are though,” he disagrees lightly turning his body so his right arm is leaning on top of the wall. “You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”

“That doesn’t make someone spectacular,” she rolls her eyes.

“You’re also witty, and smart, and braver than anyone else I know. You’re funny, and beautiful without even trying.”

“You left out my eyes,” she bats them at him for good measure and he laughs.

“Can’t forget those beauties,” he strokes her cheek just below her eye.

“You’re pretty spectacular too, you know.”

He snorts in response.

“You are! You have this bad ass exterior with your leather jacket and painted nails and boxing, but deep down you’ve got so much heart and soul. You’re funny and charming and I trust you.”

He swallows hard. He’s wanted to kiss her for a while now, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity but he didn’t want to go for it and make her feel forced. He leans forward to touch her cheek again, then ghosts his fingers on her jaw and under her chin.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” she barely whispers.

He tilts her chin up slightly then presses his lips to hers softly. It’s innocent enough but when Evie squeezes the sleeve of his leather jacket he takes that as his cue to deepen it so he threads his fingers in her hair to make the kiss deeper. He feels her hesitancy and he doesn’t want to push her so he breaks away slowly. He gives her one more peck. Then another.

She breaks into a smile bowing her head bashfully. Before he can ask what’s wrong she buries her face in his chest.

“Thank you,” she muffles, “that was perfect.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he smiles wrapping her up in his arms resting his chin on her head. He kisses her hair and sways from side to side.

When he feels her begin to shiver they head back inside and are glued together the rest of the night. They’re sitting on Ashton’s couch with his arm wrapped around her shoulders and Evie is nestled into his chest with her arm draped over his stomach. They were having quiet conversation until her head became slightly heavier and her breathing became deeper, he knew she was asleep.

“Has mine eyes deceived me?” Ashton asks pulling attention to the two on the couch. “Someone got through your hard, icy heart?”

Their friends all laugh and Luke shakes his head.

“Shut up,” he says softly, “if you wake her I’ll fight you.”

Ashton puts his arms up in defense and Evie shifts on Luke’s chest.

“Be nice,” she sighs heavily and pokes his stomach.

“Did he wake you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I was just resting my eyes, and you’re comfy.”

Luke smirks and rests his lips on her head, not kissing her but just feeling her warmth.

“Do you want me to take you home, lovie?” he murmurs. She hums a yes. “All right, come on.”

• • • •

After a long while of saying goodbye they were finally on their way to Evie’s apartment. Luke still didn’t want to leave her and was pleased when she asked him, ‘aren’t you coming?’ He couldn’t get out of the car fast enough just so he could hold her hand. Luke has never been the type of guy to be excited just by holding a girl’s hand before but with Evie it was different.

Everything with Evie was different. He took the key from her easily as she struggled to put it in the slot. She kicks off her shoes, he does the same, and follows her to her bedroom. He’s not quite sure if she wants him to spend the night but when she grabs her pajamas and motions to the bed saying,

“Make sure it’s warm for me when I get back.” And left to her bathroom.

He lets out a sigh of relief but can hear his heart pounding in his ears. Sure, he spent the night before but that was under different circumstances. This, though, this was something different entirely. Tonight they shared a kiss and Luke wasn’t afraid to admit that he liked her. He adores Evie.

Just as he pulled off his leather jacket, he had on a white t-shirt and his dark grey joggers (he’s thankful he didn’t wear his jeans otherwise it’d be an uncomfortable night) Evie returns. Luke can’t help but smile at her outfit, cloth shorts and a t-shirt with an elephant on the front. Her face was free of makeup and he could still smell the mint of her toothpaste.

“I thought I told you to keep the bed warm,” she pouts standing in front of him tossing her clothes in a pile on a chair in the corner.

“I got distracted,” he shrugs.

“By what?”

“You,” he pokes her nose causing her to giggle.

She stretches up on her toes to kiss his lips quickly then grabs his hand and pulls him to her bed. They climb in together, Luke is surprised at how comfy her bed is, and he pulls her close. She tangles their legs together and he puts his fingers through her hair before leaning in to kiss her.

It’s slow and languid the way their lips move together, he’s hesitant as he slips his tongue in her mouth. Evie sighs into him clutching his shirt in her fingers. He smiles.

“You taste minty,” he mumbles.

“You should brush your teeth,” she sighs dragging her nails over the scruff of his cheek but keeps kissing him.

He chuckles dryly against her lips. “Are you saying my breath stinks?”

“Maybe,” she sighs then giggles.

“I thought I was the asshole in this relationship?” he smirks stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“You did not just call me an asshole!”

“You said my breath stinks!”

“Did not! You can go to sleep without brushing your teeth? Disgusting,” she teases then captures his bottom lip between hers.

“Then why do you keep kissing me?” he asks after they have to catch their breath.

“Because I like kissing you. But go brush your teeth so you can come back faster and I can keep kissing you,” she kisses his nose then nips at it with her teeth.

“Ow! Fine, I’m going, you didn’t have to bite me,” he pinches her side before slipping out from the covers.

He doesn’t spot an extra toothbrush and doesn’t want to be a creep and go through her drawers and cabinets, so he uses the mouthwash on the counter. He gargles twice just to make sure she’s satisfied then jogs back quickly to his sleepy girl who is now very much wide awake. She’s sitting up against the headboard then smiles gleefully at the sight of him.

“Feel better?” she asks.

He takes his place back into her bed then pulls her easily onto his chest, she laughs as one hand holds onto her waist and the other cups her cheek.

“Now I do,” he breathes staring into her eyes.

Evie bends down to kiss him again but he easily takes the lead, massaging his tongue against hers running it over her bottom lip. She hums at that and it tightens his stomach. They continue to kiss in whispers until their lips are chapped and their breathing is irregular and Luke pushes her away gently.

“You should get some sleep, lovie,” he whispers kissing her jaw.

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to keep kissing you,” she pouts.

He traces her pouted lip and he wants to keep kissing her, too. He wants to do more than kiss but that’s for another night down the road.

“I do too, but we’ll have plenty of time to kiss tomorrow. It’s . . .” he stretches his arm to snatch his phone from the floor to look at the time. “It’s 3:30 in the morning, you need to sleep.”

“Fine,” she sighs rolling off him in a huff. He pulls her right back so he can run his fingers through her hair.

“Am I forgiven?”

“If you keep playing with my hair, then yes.”

He smiles and settles into the bed, his body is totally relaxed. He finds he’s like that a lot when he’s with Evie. He’s never been one to cuddle with other girls, after he’d sleep with them they’d always leave. He never cuddled. But with Evie it’s easy because she fits so perfectly against his body.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Before, when you said you were the ‘asshole in this relationship. . .’ does that mean we’re in a relationship?” her voice is quiet and he can hear the hesitancy in it.

He swallows hard. “I want to be, but only if you do, too.”

“I do want to.”

He hears the smile in her voice and he kisses her forehead.

“And you aren’t an asshole,” she says.

“To other people I am. You’re the only exception.”

• • • •

A few weeks have gone by and Luke and Evie have been spending so much time together. She’ll come by after his practice and head to the diner for lunch. Kissing is always evident and one night in particular is fresh in Luke’s mind when they went one step further.

When they were watching Friends he pulled her onto his lap, with one hand holding onto the back of her head and the other precariously close to her core on her inner thigh, she boldly moved his fingers to the round wetness between her legs.

“Want my fingers, baby?” he murmured and she nodded biting her lips.

He slid his hand from her hair to her lower back and began to rub his finger in circles on the outside of her underwear. He felt her bundle of nerves and the wet spot on her panties grew slightly. With their eyes still locked on each other he pushed the fabric aside and teased his finger up her slit. She jolted at his touch and he smirked.

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already this wet for me?” he grinned teasing his finger up once more.

“Don’t tease, please,” she practically whined and Luke’s eyes darkened at her form of submission.

He removed his finger and before she could protest he held it in front of her mouth, the tip of his finger coated in her arousal.

“Suck,” he commanded softly, “then I’ll give you what you want.”

Her lips fluttered in a faint smile, she took his hand in both of hers then slipped her mouth over his long finger. Her tongue swirled around it as she took it all in his mouth. He enjoyed watching her mouth work on his finger, the idea of her doing that around his cock caused it to twitch in his sweats but he ignored it. He wanted to please her and only her.

“That’s good baby,” he praised removing his finger with a pop. A line of spit was connected to his fingertip and seeing it sling back to her lower lip aroused him in a terrible way. He kissed her roughly and inserted his finger into her entrance easily.

She gasped in his mouth as he twirled his finger inside of her and she rose on her legs so he could get a better angle. He pumped into her languidly, then when he added a second finger she moaned loudly and knocked her forehead against his. He tilted his head so he could still see her face as he twiddled and scissored his fingers inside her.

She came on his fingers that night and Luke can still hear her pretty moans while he’s going over the fight schedule with Cal. The look she made when she came undone on him was imprinted on his brain and the way—

“Luke!” Calum shoves him snapping his that encounter with Evie out of his head.

“Sorry, what?” Luke clears his throat looking over at Cal.

“I said, you’re going to be doing five fights in two days. Peterson is still out because of his wrist so you’re taking his slot on Thursday along with yours and Jacobsen is out for his fight Friday morning, and then you’re going against Hayes Friday night. Will you be able to handle that?” he raises his dark eyebrows.

“Oh,” Luke blinks looking at the schedule. “Yeah. No problem. Is that all?”

“Yeah, hey . . . Luke?”

“What?”

“Listen, I’m real happy you and Evie have gotten together. But, I don’t want her to shift your focus in the ring.”

“Cal, if anything,” Luke places his hand on Calum’s shoulder, “she makes me more focused. I gotta go get her, I’m making her dinner at my place tonight. See you Thursday.”

“No, I’ll see you Tuesday for practice, Luke,” he shakes his head.

“Right. Tuesday. I’m just messing with you, I know I’ll see you Tuesday. Later.”

Calum shakes his head again as he watches his lovesick best friend and champion walk away to get his girl. It’s a nice change seeing a genuine smile on Luke’s face instead of a permanent grimace. He’s got Evie to thank for that.

• • • •

Luke wasn’t the best cook so he resulted in baking a pizza for him and Evie. He blushed when he told her but she kissed his cheek assuring him, ‘I love pizza.’ So while he was kneading the dough on the pan she was getting the cheese and chicken ready to place on the pizza.

The playlist he made for her was playing and he was singing along to it, she loved listening to his voice. It was so pretty and comforting. When it was time to put on the toppings, she scooped up some cheese and put it in the sauce then held it up for him to eat. He took it gladly smiling then kissed tomato sauce off her thumb. She giggled and he winked before doing the same to her.

Before she could even lick up the sauce on his finger, he swiped it on her cheek near her ear and she gasped.

“Hey!”

“Oh no, let me get that,” he grins. He grabs her waist and licks up the sauce with a wet kiss, but he doesn’t stop there. He moves his lips to her ear then onto her jaw until finally on her neck where he begins to suck and bite.

She sighs running her hands up his arms moving her head to the side so he can access her neck better. He’s on his third mark when the oven dings signaling it’s all heated up.

“Luke, Luke, baby the oven’s ready,” she giggles.

“It can wait,” he mumbles squeezing her hips, his thumbs creating circles on her exposed skin.

“No, you’re hungry. Put the pizza in and we can continue,” she giggles shoving him off playfully.

He grunts but does as she says. She adjusts her shirt watching him pick up the pizza pan and checks out his ass as he bends down to put it in the pizza. He catches her and he smirks.

“Were you checking me out?” he asks even though he knows she was.

“Who me? No way,” she waves him off and turns away from him.

“Get back here!”

He lifts her in his arms causing her to squeal and he collapses onto his couch with her straddling his lap. He unzips her sweatshirt so she’s just in a tank top with her cleavage in front of his face. With one look she connects their lips together and they make out for a while before it’s her turn to drag her lips onto his neck.

Luke rolls his head back onto the couch as she sucks expertly on his skin. His large hands are holding onto her waist, he rocks her slowly against him moaning at the friction of their bodies. Tied with her mouth on his neck if Luke died right there he’d die a happy man.

“Mm, baby, you’re good at that,” he moans as she continues to suck on his skin.

“I’m good at something else, too,” she exhales and he gets goosebumps.

Before he can retort she’s slipping off his lap onto the floor and begins to undo the button of his jeans. She’s meticulous and takes her time with his zipper as he stares wide eyed as this beautiful girl before him shucks his pants down his thighs. He gulps when her finger lightly traces around the perimeter of the head of his dick. It twitches in response and she smiles.

“Can I?” she asks flicking her big beautiful doe eyes up at him.

Luke’s voice is gone so he just nods.

She lifts his girth into her palm, Luke is aching when she presses soft kisses up his shaft and then a wet one over his slit. She continues to kiss him preciously then darts her tongue out as she kisses up and down his shaft again.

“Fuck, baby, don’t tease,” he pants reiterating what she told him when he fingered her a few weeks ago.

“What do you say?” she asks and Luke is alarmed that she’s got a small dominant side to her. But he fucking loves it.

“Please, baby,” he exhales lifting his hand up but then drops it back to the cushion. He doesn’t want to grab her hair yet, he doesn’t want to push her.

She smiles again (fucking hell) then spits heavily on his head watching it dribble down before she took him completely in his mouth. Luke couldn’t contain his moan from feeling her mouth wrapped around him. He’s imagined it when he’s in the shower or thinking of her late at night but the real thing is so much better.

She lathers him up with her spit by moving her head up and down and when she’s satisfied, she begins to pump her hand up and down as well and Luke’s mind goes blank. The pizza is forgotten. The day is gone. Hell, his own fucking name has escaped his mind.

The only thing he’s focused on is watching his pretty girl bobbing her head up and down his cock, taking him as far as she can without gagging and what she can’t take she squeezes gently with her fingers which surprisingly feels good.

He’s a moaning mess and she’ll say ‘yeah?’ and ‘does that feel good?’ which causes vibrations and more sensations and he can’t form a coherent sentence so he just keeps moaning. When he’s getting close she sucks on his dick like a literal lollipop and then her fingers begin to fondle his balls and he feels the tight knot in his stomach begin to unravel.

“I don’t swallow,” she says quietly but keeps working at him and he doesn’t care.

“That’s fine, don’t stop . . . I’ll tell you when,” he gasps and bucks his hips slightly.

The sound of her slurping sends him over the edge and then he’s pushing her off him with rushed ‘baby, baby, stop, stop’ and he’s coming over his own fingers. Her small hand is beneath his though and she helps him release until he’s fallen back against the couch hot and bothered and totally satisfied.

He doesn’t even notice her leave until she’s sitting beside him with a wet paper towel in her hand and cleans up his hand and thigh. She rolls it up in a much larger dry piece of towel and he rolls his head to the right to look at her dazedly.

“Hi, honey,” she giggles and he gives her a lazy smile back.

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he sighs then purses his lips. She takes the hint and leans in close to peck his lips three times.

“I wanted to make you feel good,” she shrugs.

“You exceeded. That was fuckin’ phenomenal.”

She giggles again and then the oven timer is going off. Luke groans about to get up then realizes his dick is still out with his pants still around his thighs.

“Shit,” he mumbles shuffling them back on while Evie is laughing beside him. “Quiet you.” He wiggles a finger at her in warning and she fake bites in his direction while he heads into the kitchen.

The pizza they made is delicious and they eat a majority of it before deciding on eating mint ice cream for dessert. Luke has an idea and he tells her to go in his room and pick a movie on Netflix to watch. She gives him a quizzical look but does as he says and he pulls out some whipped cream along with the tub of ice cream.

When he enters his room he hears the sound of Mary Poppins Returns on the screen and Evie is sitting cross legged in the center of his bed. She smiles at his appearance and he sets the ice cream on the bed along with the whipped cream and one spoon, she looks confused.

“Just one spoon? No bowls?”

“Nope,” he says smoothly reaching forward and tugs her towards him, her ankles on either side of his legs. “Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”

“Yeah . . .?”

“Can you take your leggings and underwear off for me?” he smiles pressing his forehead against hers. He hears her sharp inhale and is happy when she complies. He balls up the fabric tossing it to the side somewhere.

“Now,” he mumbles kissing her cheek, “can you lie back for me?”

She nods and slowly lowers herself on her back. Luke grabs her ankles yanking her further down the bed so her naked butt is on the edge. He kneels down then grabs the ice cream and spoon. He puts a small amount on the spoon then drags it carefully from her bellybutton her mound and on the inside of both of her thighs. He sticks it back in the container then picks up the whipped cream.

He sprays the cream on the lines he just made and sets the can on the floor next to him. He hums as he looks at her, she looks delectable and her pussy is throbbing already as he looks up at her. Her eyes are wide with excitement and lust as she realizes his plan.

“You’re my sweet treat,” he rasps then attaches his mouth to her stomach.

The ice cream and whipped cream are cold on her warm skin and it tastes so good on his mouth. He takes his time licking and sucking it up making sure he gets it all off her skin. When he reaches her thighs some of it is rolling onto his bedspread but he could give less than a fuck. He swipes his tongue at the rogue ice cream melting down her thighs and glances up at her before pressing his mouth to her core.

Evie gasps at the coldness of his mouth from the ice cream and whipped cream but then his tongue starts to move in intricate designs and she enjoys it. Her fingers are clenching the bedspread but Luke drags her hand into his hair and she’s yanking on his curls.

He hefts her thighs over his shoulders as he devours her rapidly and excitedly. She’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and his tongue moves in expert precision. Soon she’s rocking her hips into his mouth and her moans are sinful, her fingers yank harder as he feels her come for the first time. He smirks on her pussy lips because he hadn’t even used a finger yet.

“Fuck, Luke,” she whines but he doesn’t stop.

She’s panting and wiggling above him, her thighs clenching around his head as she comes. He peeks at her through his lashes and her mouth is open in pleasure while her eyes are closed and he hopes she’s seeing stars.

When her hips slow back down he removes his mouth and kisses the inside of her thighs, biting lightly to mark her up as she relaxes.

He rests his cheek against her thigh and stares up at her as she opens her eyes slowly. “Hi honey,” he mimics her from earlier.

“Don’t be cheeky,” she sighs and he laughs against her thigh.

• • • •

The incoming fights have been on Luke’s mind all week. He hasn’t seen Evie since he made her pizza Saturday night and he’s had to force his thoughts of her away but it didn’t quite work. It’s been a long four days of constant footwork and practice from Cal.

Evie’s been all too understanding during the whole ordeal but he’s been sure not to tell her he’s doing four fights in two days. He’s not exactly sure why but he doesn’t think she’d like that too much. Nell was even in the dark about it too, so she was spending the night with Evie while Luke and the guys were at the matches.

The first fight went well and Luke walked away with minimal damage, just a small cut on his lip and bruised knuckles. His next fight was at 8:30 so he had a little time to call her.

“Hey you,” she greets and he can hear the smile in her voice. He wishes he could see it.

“Hi baby,” he smiles sitting gingerly on the bench.

“How’s practice?”

“Uh, good. Calum’s making sure to put me to work,” he chortles, “I just wanted to hear your voice before I get back to it.”

“You’re sweet. I wish I could see you tonight,” she says sadly.

“I know lovie, me too,” he murmurs. “Haven’t seen my sweet girl all week.”

“I blame Cal, tell him I won’t allow him to work you this hard ever again.”

“He’d laugh in my face,” he laughs at the sternness in her voice.

“Then I’ll tell him,” she states proudly.

“That won’t end well, baby,” he mumbles leaning against the cold cement wall. It feels good on his sweaty skin.

“Why?”

“Because, he’ll laugh at you, then I’ll have to punch him for doing so, then Nell will punch me . . . it’s a vicious cycle.”

“Or no one can just not punch anyone.”

“Double negative sweetheart.”

“I don’t care, it makes sense okay?” she sniffs and Luke laughs.

Calum pokes his head in jerking his head behind him signifying it’s almost time for the second fight. Luke nods and waves him off.

“I gotta get back to it, lovie,” he sighs. He’d much rather stay on the phone with her. “I’ll see you tomorrow night after my fight, okay?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come tomorrow? I’ll bring my air pods.”

“Yeah, I’m sure, it’s not a major one. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Don’t practice too hard, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises babe,” he smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“You too, Luke.”

She says his name so softly he almost wants to dip out of this next fight, snatch her away from Nell and snuggle her close in his bed all night. But he can’t.

• • • •

Nell had convinced Evie to surprise Luke at his match on Friday.

“Come on, Eve, you haven’t seen him all week and I know he’ll love seeing you there. He’ll be so surprised!”

Evie thinks about seeing Luke’s smile when he’d spot her in the crowd, it’s her favorite smile that he has reserved only for her and that alone convinces her. She decided to wear a black crop top with high waisted shorts and black ankle boots, hoping when Luke sees her he’ll be stunned into silence.

They arrive at the arena around eight o’clock, Luke usually goes on at 8:30 on Fridays but when they get there Michael and Ashton find them first. Their eyes are wide and slightly panicked.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Ashton demands blocking their view from the ring.

“We came here so Evie could surprise Luke,” Nell answers folding her arms.

“He didn’t want you to be here, Evie,” Michael says.

“Yeah I know because it’s not that big of a fight but I haven’t seen him all week because Cal’s been having him practice every day,” Evie says sadly.

“Wait, he told you he’s been practicing?” Ashton asks.

“What are you guys saying? What’s going on?” Nell demands looking between the two tall men.

“Uh. . .”

“Well, you see, the thing is—“

“AND HERE’S LUKE HEMMINGS BACK IN THE FIFTH ROUND! AFTER BOTH WINS LAST NIGHT TONIGHT SHOULD BE A PIECE OF CAKE RIGHT? LOOKS LIKE HE’S LOSING HIS THUNDER, THOUGH!” The announcer’s voice booms throughout the arena.

Realization dawns over Evie’s face, Ashton and Michael’s faces pale when Evie pushes them out of her way and she looks down into the ring. Sure enough, there’s Luke swaying slightly as he raises his hands up slowly to his face. Even from a distance she can see how bruised up and battered he is, his technique is sluggish and Evie’s stomach drops.

“He hasn’t been practicing all week has he?” she asks quietly. “How many fights has he done?”

Radio silence is her response and she whips around, her eyes icy as she stares at the two men. They cower at her gaze.

“How many fights has he done?” she asks again enunciating each word carefully.

“Four,” Michael answers quietly, “in two days.”

“WHAT?!” Nell exclaims pushing through them this time so she can take a look at him down below. “How could Cal let him do that?”

“They were short, some guys were injured but the slots had to be filled,” Ashton tries to explain weakly.

“And he didn’t want me here—“

“Because he didn’t want you to worry or to see him fight,” Michael finishes with a sigh. His green eyes are sad as he looks at Evie.

It only takes Evie a beat before she’s darting down the stairs into the pit where the arena is. She ignores the calls from Nell and the guys even though they’re following her. She shoves past the cheering fans until she’s in Luke’s corner where Calum is standing. He glances at her then does a double take, his eyes going wide.

“Shit,” he mumbles as she stomps over to him.

“Get him out of there, Cal, he can barely stand!” she orders attempting to climb into the ring and stop him herself.

Calum stops her. “I can’t, he’s in the middle of a fight. I’m sorry Evie, he didn’t want you to know!”

“I don’t care! Look at him!” she cries pointing to him as he staggers heavily against the ropes. His body just looks heavy and drained of all energy.

Calum stares up at his best friend and prized fighter with his mouth open. The bell dings loudly and Luke slumps onto the floor in the corner of the ring. Evie tuts and scrambles into the ring, the guys in the crowd cheer thinking she’s some sort of show but she ignores the catcalls.

Luke’s breathing heavily as she crouches in front of him, her heart sinks at the sight of him. His skin is scattered with patches of black and blue, one of his eyes is swollen shut and his lip is puffed out from a large cut. He’s broken and battered and it breaks Evie’s heart.

“Oh, Luke,” she whispers sadly.

His head tilts up at the sound of her voice, his good eye tries to blink open through the sweat. He smiles, but it’s more of a grimace, as he looks at her fondly.

“He got me good if I’m imagining you here,” he croaks.

“No, Luke, baby,” she holds his cheeks gently tilting his head up so he can look at her. “I am here but you need to stop, you can’t take anymore.”

His eyes struggled to focus on her through the blood and sweat but he mumbles out a barely coherent, ‘I’m fine.’

“No, you are not fine,” she stresses. She spots a towel near his back, she picks it up and dabs away the sweat from around his eyes and on his forehead.

“Evie, give him this, he needs to drink,” Calum says from her left holding up a bottle of what looks like Gatorade.

She tilts it in his mouth and he drinks gratuitously, which sort of seems to do the trick because he appears more alert. His one good eye zeroes in on Evie and his special smile for her shows.

“I can do this, baby because you’re here,” he croaks stroking her cheek with the backs of his knuckles (which are also bruised and bloody) “I can finish. Just tell me you love me.”

“Oh Luke,” she sighs shaking her head, “I do love you. I love you so much but I didn’t want to tell you like this.”

“I love you too, baby,” he slurs trying to smile once more. “I’ll win for you.”

“Make it fast so I can get you home,” she warns then presses her lips to his clammy ones gently.

The bell dings again for the start of the sixth round, he’s only got two more after this. She helps him stand, he squeezes her hand tightly before Calum helps her out of the ring.

Evie doesn’t put her air pods in the whole fight because she’s more concerned in watching Luke. His footwork seems a bit more energetic and she’s praying he’ll knock out the other guy quickly by the time the eighth round begins. She doesn’t wince at the sound of skin connecting with skin, or the hard thumps of their feet on the floor of the ring.

Her focus is on Luke and his fourth (probably) wave of adrenaline. His opponent sends Luke a hard hit that sends him falling into the ropes. His body draped over it like a rag doll. He’s panting but when he looks down at his Evie, it’s like a switch goes off.

This amazing girl is standing here watching him after she told him she loved him and she mouths it to him once more, giving him a small nod. She’s his reason to finish this fight, not for the glory or the title of being undefeated. He wants to finish it so he can take her home and hear about her week.

That’s more important than any stupid fight.

Luke stands up straight then quickly whips around throwing a hard right hook to his opponent. He’s momentarily stunned and Luke uses that to his advantage and gives him a swift uppercut, followed by a roundhouse kick to his stomach. He does one more quick jab to his neck then another left hook and the guy is down.  

The crowd goes crazy, the bell is ringing and the ref is shouting out Luke’s name lifting his hand in the air as he’s announced the winner. Luke doesn’t care though. He nods his thanks for the acknowledgment then helps his opponent rise from the floor.

“Really thought I had you, man,” the guy who Luke thinks his name is Rob says. “That your girl that was in the ring?”

“Yes,” Luke answers gruffly. He was already so exhausted, he didn’t want to have to fight again if this guy says something crude about his Evie.

“Reminds me of my wife, she hated seeing me fight. She a keeper?” Rob pants wiping blood from his lip.

Luke’s shoulders relax when he learns the guy is married. “Yeah, she’s a keeper.”

“Good. Take your girl home before she fights you next,” he chuckles then holds out his hand, “you fight really well.”

“Thanks, you too,” Luke says shaking his hand quickly.

Calum escorts Luke from the ring, and Luke leans on his friend for support and it isn’t long until Evie is on his other side offering her support.

“Hey Cal, guess what,” Luke sighs happily. His ears are still ringing and his head feels like it’s underwater. Apparently that’s what five fights in two days does to you.

“What, mate?”

“Evie loves me,” he says proudly leaning towards Evie who stumbles a little under his weight.

“That’s great because I think she hates me,” Calum grunts pushing open the locker room door.

“I don’t hate you, I’m just very upset with you,” Evie sighs helping Luke sit down on the bench.

“Same thing. I’m sorry, Evie, but I promise I won’t let him do this again. And I’m giving him the week off next week,” Calum says.

“Come on, I can go two more rounds,” Luke sighs resting his head against the wall. His eyes are closed.

“You can’t sleep yet, you need to shower, babe,” Evie tells him pulling onto his hand.

“Wanna shower with you,” he mumbles and Calum chuckles. Evie blushes.

“I think you should just take him home,” Calum laughs.

“Can you help me get him to the car?” Evie asks going to his locker to grab his duffel bag and things.

Just then Ashton bursts through the door saying a string of apologies but Evie stops him.

“It’s fine, Ash,” she sighs, “I just want to get him home. Can you help?”

“Absolutely. Come on, Luke,” Ashton hefts him up easily against his body.

• • • •

It was a bit of an ordeal getting Luke into her shower, he simply insisted on going to her place because he wanted to be around everything that is her. He kept begging her to join him in the shower but she refused because he still had to get his cuts taken care of.

He sat in her kitchen while she hustled about getting healing ointment and bandages. He was a tad more alert but his body ached and all he wanted to do was crawl into her bed and hold her close. She hummed quietly as she cleaned him up, his eyes trained on her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs and she smiles.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

Once he has bandages on his knuckles and ointment under his swollen eye, she held out her hands to drag him into her room. She flicked on her string lights that were on her ceiling and Luke clambered into her bed heavily. His eyes were closed then he opened them in concern because she wasn’t next to him.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he asks.

“I don’t really want to sleep in these clothes,” she chuckles.

He groans.

“What’s the matter? What hurts?” she freezes taking her bra off.

“You’re undressing and I’m too tired to open my eyes and watch,” he pouts into her pillow.

Evie laughs and continues to take off her clothes. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t fight four fights in two days.”

“I’m sorry. Do you hate me?”

“I love you, Luke, how could I hate you?” she sighs finally slipping into her pajamas which was a shirt of Luke’s. It fit her like a nightgown and still smelled like him. She slept in it every night.

“Because I didn’t tell you about the fights. I lied to you. I never wanted to lie to you and I did and I’m sorry,” he says in a rush.

She gets into bed and he immediately nuzzles his face into her neck, his arms wrapping around her. He even tangles his legs with hers and she can’t help but giggle at him basically koala-ing her. Her fingers move to his hair so she can play with it and her other hand tickles his arm across her stomach.

“I get why you didn’t tell me,” she sighs kissing his forehead, “but as much as I would have hated it, I would have been there and watched each fight.”

“Really?” his voice his muffled by the fabric of his shirt on her chest.

“Yes. I support you Luke because this is your life. But I don’t want you to ever do this many fights without telling me, okay?”

“Believe me, I won’t ever fight this many again. But I’ll tell you,” he promises. He lifts his head looking at her through bleary eyes. “I’ve wanted to do this all week.”

“What?”

“Be with you in bed, I’ve missed you so damn much.”

“I missed you,” she smiles scratching at his beard affectionately.

He glances at her lips then her eyes before pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth. He inhales sharply tightening his hold on her as he deepens the kiss. It stirs a fire in her lower stomach and they both desperately wish they could do more than kiss but Evie pushes him away gently.

“You need to sleep, honey,” she tells him.

“I know,” he sighs dropping his head to her chest again. “Just wanted to kiss you.”

She smiles and goes back to scratching at his drying curls, his breathing slows down already.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispers kissing his forehead and begins to hum a song.

“I love you,” he says.

“And I love you,” she whispers. She goes back to humming and he’s out like a light in no time.

Evie stays up a little longer, smiling at each twitch he does in his sleep and simply enjoying just being with him.

• • • •

Calum was true to his word and gave Luke the whole next week off so Luke and Evie spent everyday together. She’d change his bandages on his knuckles and make him hold ice on his eye so it would bring the swelling down.

By Tuesday his bruises weren’t as horrendous looking and the cuts on his knuckles were healing over.

“Do you want to get out of town for a while?” Luke asks her while they’re lounging on her couch. She’s cuddled onto his chest wearing nothing but a t-shirt of his and his fingers are tickling the skin of her thigh.

“Where would we go?” she turns her head to look up at him.

“I’ve got a lake house about an hour away from here,” he smiles, “there’s a hot tub, and a really good restaurant that has the best bread and butter.”

“You had me at bread and butter.”

“What, not the hot tub?” he laughs.

“That’s great too, but bread is better,” she sticks her tongue out playfully.

“Silly girl,” he laughs again and pinches her waist causing her to giggle shrilly. “Do you want to? We can stay there until Friday afternoon.”

“That sounds really nice, yeah, let’s go!”

• • • •

Evie’s expression at seeing his lake house was pure amazement. It was a nice cottage with a bird bath in the front and flowers, and painted yellow with white shutters. She was silent as she walked throughout the house while Luke left to get the bags. The inside had white wood paneled walls and cream colored couches.

The whole place reminded her of sunshine and spring.

She found the hot tub outside the master bedroom on a top deck which had a beautiful view of the lake. She immediately went outside down by the small sandy beach near the dock. Whippoorwill’s trilled in the distance and Evie closed her eyes finally feeling calm and relaxed.

“There you are,” Luke murmurs from behind wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I went exploring,” she sighs leaning against his chest.

“Peaceful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. Do you come out here often?”

“Not for a while, you’re the first person I’ve brought out here,” he kisses her temple.

“Really? Not even the guys?”

“Nope, this is my hideaway. My safe space.”

Evie turns around in his arms and looks up in his pretty blue eyes. She notes how his left eye isn’t swollen anymore but still has faint coloring from the bruising and his lip is almost healed. Even battered he’s still the most handsome man she’s ever seen.

“Why’d you bring me to your private place?” she strokes his cheek gently.

“Because, you’re my safe space and I love you,” he says simply. He smiles then leans down to press his lips to hers.

She hooks her arm to the back of his neck as the kiss deepens. It’s been so long since they’ve shared a ‘getting-lost-in-you’ kiss because of his injuries from his fights. His hands go immediately to her waist then slips down to her ass. He squeezes and she sighs into his mouth.

“Let’s go inside, yeah,” he mumbles.

Evie just nods, her voice is lost on her from that knee buckling kiss. If it wasn’t for Luke’s strong hand in hers she’d probably fall flat on her face. He leads her through the house to the bedroom.

Her attention is distracted by Luke’s soft lips on her neck and his wandering hands moving up and down her stomach to her thighs. His lips continue exploring down to her shoulder while his fingers pull down the zipper of her jacket and he pulls the clothing off her.

He spins her around, his eyes trained on hers as he backs her onto the bed, her knees buckling as she sits down on it. She scoots herself backwards until her head lands on the pillows, she bites her lip and Luke crawls on top of her. He dips his head low so he can kiss her tenderly, her fingers tangle in his curls.

“Want you so bad,” he exhales letting his hand wander down her thigh.

“Take me,” she gasps yanking on his hair.

He unbuttons her shorts while she tries to lift his sweatshirt over his head. They’re a mess of tangled limbs and twisted clothing, laughter fills the air until they’re both void of clothes. He notices the rapid rise and fall of her chest as he leaves a trail of kisses down her sternum.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathes on her skin as he moves around her bellybutton.

He shifts himself on the bed so his face is between her legs. Without teasing, he kisses her heat and licks her slowly. Her moans are precious in his ears and he continues to lick her languorously. He wants to make her feel good, so good that she’ll remember this for the rest of her life and he wants to do this for all of his days.

“Luke,” she moans petting his hair before threading her fingers through it.

He hums against her and she gasps, his tongue flicks become faster as he adds a finger, pumping into her slowly. He brings her to her orgasm skillfully and perfectly. Luke sucks off her wetness from his finger and she drags him up by her so she can kiss him.

“Your turn,” she nibbles at his lip but he shakes his head.

“No, baby, tonight is all about you,” he watches her as he teases the tip of his dick in between her folds.

Evie bites her lip, full eye contact on him as he continues to lube himself up with her wetness. He pushes himself in gently, the warmth of her around him consumes him and he pushes in and out to create more slickness. Evie is tracing the features of his face as he does so, soft little grunts escape her each time he goes in and out and then he’s finally in her completely.

Luke exhaled as she inhaled from the moment of connection, her mouth open in a perfect little ‘o’ and her eyes nearly roll back in her head. He’s never seen her more lovely than this moment.

“God, I love you,” he pants then begins to start a steady thrust. When he connects fully in her he rolls his hips and Evie’s nails are scratching up and down his back.

“I love you . . . too,” she moans as his pace quickens.

Luke licks his lips adjusting his right arm beside her head to use it as leverage so he can fuck into her deeper. His other hand is holding onto her hip and soon she’s matching his pace, hips meeting hips, breath being exchanged.

Evie closes her eyes when he hits a certain spot and she begs him not to stop and Luke would never. Whatever she’d ask him in this moment he’d give to her without question. He felt her walls clenching around him and he pumped faster and faster until she’s moaning loudly in his ear.

“That’s my girl,” he praises into her ear. She moans in response and still he quickens his pace.

His hips snap into hers with ruthless passion and she’s coming over him again, her cries are salacious, her nails creating crescent moons into his back with her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Feels so good,” she whines arching her back.

Luke closes his eyes trying to hold his orgasm off but the sounds she’s making and the feeling of her around him becomes too much. His thrusts start to become sloppy but she’s moaning loudly---a fourth one?—and he’s coming as well.

He pulls out quickly because he remembers he didn’t put on a condom so he spurts all over her lower stomach. Her fingers are trying to brush away the curls from his forehead as he releases onto her. Once he’s finished he collapses onto her and they’re a panting mess, he doesn’t even care that he’s getting his cum over his stomach. His main concern is her.

“I’m so in love with you,” she admits tilting his head up from her chest.

He smiles giving her a deep kiss.

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart.” He kisses her cheek, making a trail down her jaw to her neck and to her breast that he sucks on lightly.

“That tickles,” she giggles.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you fully naked,” he muses moving to her other breast so he can kiss and suck on it as well. “Why is that?”

“Because other times you mainly paid attention to her,” she giggles again pointing down to her vagina.

“You call it a her?” he chuckles around her nipple.

“Duh, why would it be a he?”

“Fair point.”

“So what do you think?”

“Of what? Her? I fucking love her,” he sucks loudly on her breast.

“No,” she laughs, “my naked body.”

“I fucking love all of it, you’re so perfect,” he rubs her cheek with the back of his knuckles. He loves the blush on her cheeks.

“Mm, you’re pretty perfect,” she sighs closing her eyes as he continues to cater to her breasts.

• • • •

Luke and Evie stayed at the lake house until Sunday. They spent their time in the hot tub, walking along the lakeshore, going out to dinner every night because Luke insisted on spoiling her. And it was filled with lots of lovemaking.

When he pulls up to her apartment he helps get her bags out then pulls her against him, his lips connecting with hers. The plan was that she’d take a shower and change then meet him at the ring in an hour, Luke had to go over his schedule with Calum.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?” he asks for the twelfth time.

“I’m sure,” she smiles stretching up to kiss his nose, “I’ll see you in an hour. Promise.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” she smiles then pulls away shouldering her bags and heads inside the entrance.

Luke watches her disappear, an ever present smile on his face then jogs around to his side of the car.

• • • •

Luke’s been watching the other guys practice while he wants for Evie to meet him at the ring, he’s already gone over his schedule with Calum. The finals are coming up soon so training is going to be more intense but he’s promised he won’t be fighting multiple times in a short amount of days.

It’s been a little over ten minutes from when Evie was supposed to meet Luke and Evie’s very punctual.  He knows if she’s running late by even a minute it makes her anxious. Before he’ll allow himself to panic, he pulls out his phone and texts her. Luke tries to reason that maybe she’s still putting on her makeup or is stuck in traffic.

A few minutes turn into ten and still no response.

Fifteen minutes turn to twenty-five and panic starts to set in. He tries calling her but it rings to her voicemail. He tries again but by the third ring and still no answer, he’s reaching for his keys.

He’s calling her constantly while he’s in the car driving back to her place but she’s still not answering.

“Shit!” he exclaims smacking the steering wheel.

Something is very wrong.

He parks haphazardly outside her building and takes the steps three at a time until he’s on the second level. He pounds on the door shouting her name but its radio silence on the other side.

Luke searches frantically for his phone to try calling her again. With bated breath he waits and waits and very faintly hears her ringtone through the door.

Something is really wrong.

“Fuck,” he hisses fumbling for his wallet to get the spare key she gave him.

Then he remembers he left his wallet in the car and not wanting to waste more time he grabs hold of the doorknob and shoulders onto the wood as hard as he can. It bursts open, the knob clattering to the floor and he’s searching frantically for Evie.

“Evie?” he calls.

A chair is knocked over, the lampshade by her couch is askew. His heart pounds in his chest as he makes his way through her apartment. It’s eerily silent save for slamming of his heart in his ears and then his heart stops.

She’s lying on her bathroom floor crumpled in a heap with a small pool of blood near her head. Her phone is cracked next to her fingers.

“No, no, no, no baby, please,” Luke begs falling next to her. He touches her wrist and feels a heartbeat, it’s steady and thanks God it’s there.

“Evie? Lovie, can you hear me?” he asks brushing hair from her forehead, that’s when he sees the gash as the source of blood. It’s a pretty deep cut right above her eyebrow.

She makes the tiniest of scowls but makes no noise. Panicking again, Luke dials 911 and explains what he’s seeing in a rush and to please, please send help.

“Please hurry, she’s . . . she’s not waking up,” he cries and tries talking to her gently.

“Sir, an ambulance is less than five minutes away, they’ll be there soon, okay?” The dispatcher speaks calmly. “I’ll stay on the line with you until they arrive, but don’t move her.”

“Okay, okay,” he pants.

He still tries to wake her up and is careful not to touch no matter how desperately he wants to. Then he hears sirens and soon after quick and heavy footsteps down the hall.

“We’re here! She’s in the bathroom!” he shouts voice shaking.

Two EMT’s, one male and one female, push past him. He watches in shock as they speak medical jargon to each other and into their radios. Two others arrive with a stretcher and a neck brace that is wrapped quickly around her neck.

Luke watches in horror as they lift her onto the stretcher and he follows them wordlessly downstairs and outside. He’s stopped when he goes to climb in the ambulance.

“Sir, there isn’t enough room but you can follow us to the hospital,” the woman tells him.

“Okay,” he says hollowly then she touches his arm.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got her, sir. What’s her name?”

“Evie—Evelyn—Carson,” he croaks and tries to clear his throat but there’s a lump preventing him doing so.

“And yours?”

“Luke Hemmings.”

“We’ll see you at the hospital, Luke.”

He runs to his car and called Calum immediately, his tires squeal as he follows the ambulance.

“Hey, what’s—“

“Is Nell there?”

“Yeah, she’s—“

“Meet me at the hospital,” Luke rushes and turns the corner sharply.

“The hospital? Luke—“

“It’s Evie. Just hurry, I’m behind the ambulance.”

He hangs up before Calum can say another word and tries to keep his foot steady on the gas. He couldn’t help the tremble of his hands.

• • • •

Luke’s leg is bouncing erratically as he waits to hear news of Evie and for Calum and Nell to arrive. The doors to the waiting room swing open revealing a frantic looking Nell, she makes a beeline for Luke.

“What is going on?” she demands tears brimming her eyes.

“I—she was supposed to meet me at the arena in an hour after we got back. She wasn’t picking up after thirty minutes and I went to get her and had to break down her door. Her place is turned over and she was . . . she was on the floor in the bathroom. Blood was on her forehead and the floor and she wouldn’t wake up. I don’t know what happened,” he finishes in a choked sob.

“Danny,” Nell mumbles sadly.

“Who’s Danny?” Calum narrows his eyes.

“Her ex,” Nell breathes, “He found her.”

“You know about that? How?” Luke asks.

“Ashton told me. I figured if she wanted to tell me, she would. But she’s been so happy with you—“

“I should’ve been there,” Luke cuts her off shaking his head. He rubs his face twice with his hands, the image of her lying on the floor is ingrained in his mind.

“Luke Hemmings?”

He whips around quickly then is surprised to see a police officer standing in front of him. He was about the same height as Luke but in his late thirties and a hard, steely look in his eyes.

“Yes?” Luke asks stepping forward slowly.

“Can I ask you some questions, please?”

• • • •

Luke slumps back in his chair in one of the private offices of the hospital, Officer Roth is sitting across from him with a notepad.

“I’m telling you, I would never ever hit my girlfriend! Or any woman for that matter!” Luke thunders for what feels like the hundredth time. He feels like a broken record repeating the same story of how he found Evie.

“But you are a boxer, correct?” Officer Roth narrows his eyes.

“Yes, I fight at Seconds of Summer,” he sighs.

“Have you met this ex-boyfriend of Miss Carson’s before?”

“No, but she’s told me a lot about him. I don’t know how he found her but he did and all I want is to see how she is.”

Officer Roth eyes him up silently then folds his arms. “Your hands look like they’ve been through some fights, and that shiner on your eye looks pretty rough.”

“I fought four fights in two days last week,” Luke forces his voice to remain calm. “Evie and I went to my lake house because Calum gave me the week off—Calum. Go get Calum Hood, he owns the gym and is my trainer. He can tell you I was at the arena until about two thirty when I went to Evie’s. Please. I need to see she’s all right.”

Officer Roth takes his time tapping his pen on the desk, closes his little pad and pockets.

“Fine, but you stay here, got it?”

Luke nods watching Officer Roth heave out of the chair and exit the room. Luke’s leg is shaking as he waits in anxiousness. He has no idea what status Evie’s in or if she’s awake. Is she asking for him? Is Nell with her?

Minutes tick by and then the door opens. Luke twists in his chair to see Calum is behind Officer Roth.

“You’re good to go, Mr. Hemmings,” Officer Roth says. “I apologize for the third degree but . . . well, under the circumstances and your state, I had to ask those questions.”

“I get it but Danny’s the one you need to give the third degree to. Am I free to go?” Luke rises from his chair.

“Yes, I hear Miss Carson is asking for you. I’ll be by in a few minutes to get a statement from her. If Danny’s still in the area, we’ll do our best to find him.” He holds out his hand, “I’m sorry again.”

“Thank you,” Luke shakes his hand then rushes past him with Calum. “Thanks for setting him straight.”

“No problem, I can’t believe he thought you did this,” Calum says bitterly.

“She’s awake? How is she?”

“Freaking out because she woke up in a hospital and has no idea where you are. Nell is trying to explain but she’s a little frantic. She’s down this way.”

Luke picks up his pace pushing through the double doors into another hallway filled with constant telephone rings and murmurs from the nursing staff. Calum leads him into a room to the left and Luke’s chest breaks open when he sees Evie.

There’s a bandage above her left eyebrow and her lip is swollen and bruised. Discoloration of bruises peek out from the hospital gown she’s in and though her body looks worn and torn, her eyes are alert when they land on Luke.

“Luke!” she cries trying to reach for him but he moves to her first.

“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” he rushes sitting next to her. He takes her hands gently in his, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Where were you?”

“A cop had some questions for me,” he says grimly, “he wants to talk to you, too so he can try and find Danny.”

“Why was he talking to . . .” her voice tumbles off an edge until her eyes widen in shock. “They thought you--?! Oh, Luke, I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes well with fresh tears and her breathing has become irregular and rapid as she sputters out incoherent apologies.

“Shh, shh, breathe, lovie,” he cradles her face softly trying to calm her down. “It’s all sorted now. I’m still angry about it but from their viewpoint, I do look like the bad guy. And I am.”

“What? No, you’re not—“

“I should’ve been with you, I wouldn’t have given him a chance to touch you,” says through his teeth.

He caresses her forehead, his heart falling once more at the sight of the stitches below the bandage. He overheard the nurse telling Nell while he was reuniting with Evie that she had severe bruising on her stomach. It made him sick and angry that this happened and he was right within reach.

Danny was probably there when he dropped her off. A new wave of anger ripples through him and he has to pull his hands away to try and cool his temper. It’s taking all his willpower now not to go out and find Danny himself.

“Luke, look at me,” Evie says softly.

He stares at her blankly. She reaches for his hand lacing their fingers together and squeezes.

“What happened isn’t your fault. I have no idea how he found me but I’m glad you’re the one who rescued me. I could’ve . . .” she swallows thickly closing her eyes at what possibly could have happened to her then opens them again to look into his sad blue eyes, “You saved me. That’s what matters.”

He sighs unevenly then nods just as there’s a knock on the door. It’s Officer Roth with a fellow officer to ask Evie what happened. Luke holds her hand the entire time as she explains through a shaky voice. When she falters, Luke kisses her hand in assurance and she continues until the officers have all they need.

Officer Roth gives Luke his number in case Danny returns and they can call him right away.

• • • •

Calum and Nell came back later that night while Evie was sleeping with new clothes for her to change into when she’s discharged. She has to stay the night for observation and with the bruising on her stomach the doctors and nurses wanted to monitor it in case there was internal bleeding.

Evie didn’t want Luke to leave her and he was more than happy to stay with her, he didn’t want to leave her side either.

“We cleaned up her place the best we could,” Nell informs while the three of them are standing just outside her door.

“Mike and Ash are fixing her door right now,” Calum adds.

“Thanks,” Luke nods. He heaves a deep sigh exhaling through his nose as his fingers rub at his eyes. “I doubt she’ll want to go back once she’s checked out tomorrow night.”

“Take her to your place, she’ll be safe with you and I don’t want Danny coming back,” Nell’s voice shakes in anger at the mention of Danny.

“I should’ve stayed with her,” Luke mutters. He shakes his head, jaw working as his body trembles in anger once more.

He wants—he needs to punch something. He’d choose the wall but the sound would wake Evie up and he didn’t want to pay for damaging the hospital.

“Luke, you can’t beat yourself up over this,” Calum sighs, “You couldn’t have known he’d be there. It’s because of you she’s safe now. This could have been way worse.”

“I don’t understand why he left in the first place,” Nell mentions then at the look on Luke’s face she adds quickly, “I’m glad he did! But why show up, do what he did and then leave?”

“What did Evie say happened?” Calum asks quietly.

“She told the cop he was already in her apartment. He must have asked a tenant where she lived and found the key she hid in the light to get in. She said he wanted to talk, he apologized apparently but she told him to leave. He snapped and—“Luke tries to swallow the lump in his throat “—and threw her chair before he began hitting her. She didn’t fight back, in the past it only made it worse when she did and then she passed out when her head hit the edge of the counter.”

“I thought you found her in the bathroom?” Nell asks.

“I did. Maybe he dragged her in there? I don’t know, the son of a bitch probably thought he killed her and left. That’s the only reason I can think of as to why he’d leave.”

“When—“

“Luke?” Evie calls out worriedly.

Without a second glance, Luke heads inside to be by his girl instantly, grasping her hand and dancing his fingers across her cheek.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Calum and Nell are here, they brought new clothes and we were talking,” he explains dropping into the seat beside her bed.

“Did they leave?”

“No, do you want to see them?” he asks and she nods. “Guys, come on in.”

Nell enters first sprinting to her cousin’s side and hugs her tightly. Earlier when she was in the room Evie was still delirious and the only thing on her mind was Luke. They’re both crying and exchanging apologies.

“I should’ve told you what Danny was like,” Evie wipes under her eyes with the hand that’s not holding Luke’s.

“I understand why you didn’t. I should’ve told you I knew anyway. I’m so sorry you had to deal with this on your own,” Nell sniffs. “We’ll all watch out for you. He won’t get away with this and if he comes back we’ll make sure he’s locked up.”

“Thanks, Nell,” Evie gives her a watery smile.

There’s a knock on the door and a nurse comes in to check on Evie’s vitals. Someone will be checking on her every few hours.

“We’ll let you rest, Eve,” Calum says.

“Thanks guys.”

Luke nods his goodbye, eyes focused on Evie while the night nurse checked her vitals.

“Everything sounds good,” the nurse says, “can I check the bruising on your stomach?”

Luke watches in silent anguish at the careful way Evie moves the blankets and her gown. His eyes are trained on her face, she’s biting her lip but a small squeak slips by signifying this is painful for her.

“It hurts,” she whispers “can you help?”

The nurse aids her by lifting the gown slowly. She presses on Evie’s stomach gently, Evie winces at the pressure.

“Has there been blood when you used the bathroom?”

“No,” Evie’s voice is strained.

“That’s good. I’ll let you get more rest and be back in a few hours. I’m Cheyenne and I’ll be watching over you tonight,” Cheyenne smiles. “Call if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Luke says watching her leave then helps Evie get tucked back in under the covers.

“Thanks,” Evie smiles.

“Try to get some sleep, lovie,” he murmurs kissing her forehead minding the stitches above her eyebrow.

• • • •

It’s been two weeks since the incident with Evie. She’s been healing nicely and the cut above her eyebrow is now raised soft skin, and pale pink in color after the stitches were removed. Luke would trace his fingers over it and kiss that spot randomly throughout the day.

He knew she hated it and felt self-conscious about it so he made it his duty to show it as much love as he could. She’d only been to her apartment once and that was only so she could get extra clothes and her favorite blankets.

Luke had passed the divisional and is now moving onto the title win which has a decent amount of prize money that will really help out the gym. Calum has increased his workouts but scheduled them around Evie’s work schedule so Luke can pick her up.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning as they’re cuddled up on his couch watching old Disney movies. Evie is on top of him, their legs tangled together under her favorite fuzzy blanket and Luke’s fingers are tracing patterns on her back.

“Can you teach me how to fight?” she asks suddenly.

Luke’s dancing fingers stopped, he craned his neck in an odd position so he could look at her.

“What?”

“Can you teach me how to box? Or show me some easy moves?”

“Evie . . . why?”

“So if Danny comes back I can defend myself.”

Luke shifts underneath her so he doesn’t have to strain his neck in an awkward position, she shifts with him raising her head from his chest.

“If he comes back,” Luke’s voice is dangerously controlled, “he won’t even get a chance to fucking breathe in your direction.”

She smiles lightly at his need to protect her.

“I know but I want to learn so I’m prepared anyway. And it will make me more comfortable watching you instead of listening to music. Please?”

Luke sighs mulling it over, it’s not a bad idea. She should at least know the basics just in case something were to happen and Luke wasn’t there. But he meant what he said. If Danny comes back Luke will deal with him personally.

“All right,” he agrees and Evie squeals with glee then attacks his face with kisses. “But if anything hurts or you feel uncomfortable, you tell me and we stop. Deal?”

“Yes, deal. Thank you, honey.”

She presses her mouth to his sealing the deal.

• • • •

When Monday night rolls around Evie joins Luke at the gym into the training room. He’s spent the last forty-five minutes going over boxing basics and showing her the moves. He takes careful care of wrapping her fingers in tape then kisses her knuckles when he’s finished.

He slips on punching mitts then moves in front of her. He smiles at the sight of Evie, her dark brown hair is pulled back into a loose braid and she’s wearing a sports bra with some leggings. There’s a determined look in her eye that he finds so endearing.

“I’m not punching one of the bags?” she asks almost sadly.

“No, not today. Those are a lot harder than these,” he indicates the mitts on his hands, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, lovie. Let’s start with an easy combination of a jab cross and right hook. Get in your stance . . . good. Keep your hands up by your face and start when you’re ready.”

Evie nods taking a deep breath then jabs her left hand across her body to hit the mitt on Luke’s left hand, she follows with a quick right hook on his other hand then repeats. Luke nods as she repeats it, her body dancing as she keeps her feet bouncing.

“Very good, lovie, keep going,” he encourages.

Evie continues, her eyes trained on the mitts. With each punch she hits harder and harder as an anger bubbles up to the surface. Each punch is for every hit Danny gave her. Each strike is for every time he yelled and swore and then more anger arose because he found her and could have almost ruined her and Luke.

Evie became relentless, hitting faster, faster, and faster still. Her face becomes red and her breath comes out in rapid huffs. Luke has been watching her carefully and when he sees her eyes flood with tears he springs into action and lowers the mitts.

She’s still punching the air and then his chest as he pulls her against him, crushing her arms so she stops. Evie chokes out her sobs into his shirt.

“I’ve got you baby, it’s okay.”

He rocks her gently from side to side as she continues to sob and gasp, finally releasing her pent up emotions she didn’t realize she buried.

• • • •

Title fight day is upon Luke and he’s trying to get in his own head and zone out the raucous cheers and buzz from beyond his changing room. He’s pacing, rotating his neck and loosening his shoulders as he attempts to block it out.

If he wins these twelve rounds he’ll also receive a whopping $50,000 prize money which would really help the gym. He tried not to think about it all coming down to him and to focus on the fight, his moves and the weak spots of his opponent.

His name is KJ Andrews who has a reputation of getting where he’s at from the ground up at his own gym he uses for youth.

There’s a quick knock on his door then Calum enters, a quick grin flicks across his face.

“Got time to meet a fan before you go out?”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” Luke huffs checking the tape on his hands.

“Don’t sound so enthused, honey.”

Luke’s head snaps up to see Evie step from behind Calum, a smile on her face as she approaches him.

“He should’ve said it was you,” Luke grins meeting her halfway. They join hands letting them hang loosely between their bodies.

“Four minutes, Hemmings. See you out there, Evie,” Calum bids them goodbye closing the door behind him.

“How’re you feeling?” Evie asks, eyes searching his face.

“Okay, good I guess. I just want to get out there,” he licks his lips. “Do you have your air pods?”

“I won’t be using them,” she shakes her head, “I can handle it but I have them just in case. This is a big fight for you, Luke, I want to be completely involved.”

“I love you,” he sighs bending down to give her a gentle kiss.

“I love you, too,” she mumbles on his lips giving him one more just as the announcer’s voice booms from the arena. “You’ve got this, Luke. I’ll see you out there.”

“Bye,” he says faintly. He gives her hands a gentle squeeze as she backs away, their fingers slipping away as she slips out the door.

Luke takes several deep breaths then heads out of his changing room and up the stairs. He cracks his knuckles then punches his palms, his adrenaline is kicking in.

When he steps out into the arena, the blue spotlight hits him but he pays no mind to people shouting his name or what the announcer is saying. Calum joins him as he makes his way to the ring and slips beneath the rope to go in his respective corner. KJ is already across from him, they both glance and nod at each other as the announcer rumbles stats.

“How’re you feeling, mate?” Calum asks rubbing his best friend’s shoulders.

“Good, I’m ready. Where’s—“

“Behind you with everybody else,” Calum smiles nodding behind Luke.

Luke cranes his neck and spots Evie right away. She smiles sweetly and waves up at him then gives him a thumbs up. His heart soars.

He can do this. He’ll win these twelve rounds and then ask Evie to move in with him. It’s crazy to think how six months ago was when he first spotted Evie. Crazy to think that six months has gone by. So much has changed but he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.

The clang of the bell echoed all around followed by the loud cheers and applause from the spectators. Luke and KJ met in the middle, knocked fists and the referee blew his whistle.

• • • •

Sweaty and out of breath, Luke’s limbs were like jelly when the ref raised his right arm up above his head exclaiming ‘WINNER!’ of the title fight. The cheers were louder than ever but through his exhaustion he smiled looking out into the crowd. The house lights came on and he could see every cheering face but he only had one in mind.

When he spotted his friends he notices Evie isn’t there. Calum pointed behind him signifying his changing room and Luke nods. He’ll get to her soon enough.

Evie is setting up the six champagne flutes carefully on his coffee table with the champagne bottle in the center. The twelve rounds were intense and at some moments she thought Luke would come up short but he never failed.

She cheered as loud as she could when he was announced the winner, stray tears fell from her eyes from how proud she is for him. She snuck away quickly to set up this little celebration station for him when he arrived with everyone else.

The door opens behind her and she spins around.

“Congratu—“

Her congratulations falls short and her smile disappears when she sees who’s standing in the doorway.

“You always did heal up fast,” Danny says stepping into the room.

His presence casts a dark shadow in the room and over Evie who steps off to the side. The bottle opener is by the door still in the bag and her eyes scan frantically for any sort of defensive weapon she can use. The announcer is still calling out congratulations and she prays silently that Luke will be here soon.

“What do you want, Danny?” she asks her voice shaking.

“Why don’t you come back home? Your family misses you . . . I miss you,” he chuckles stepping even closer.

“You had an odd way of showing it at my apartment,” she bites back as furiously as she can.

“I was just angry you managed to hide from me for so long. And to cheat on me nonetheless,” he chuckles again.

The closer he gets Evie can smell liquor reeking from his body, her heart accelerated in fear.

“I didn’t cheat on you because we aren’t together. You hit me and verbally abused me, I left you, Danny. Just leave me alone, please.”

“I can’t do that, Eves, I love you too much. Come on, just come back home with me, I promise I’ve changed.”

He’s invading her space now, she flinches at his use of her old nickname but instead of fear she was filled with rage.

“You don’t love me. You don’t beat up someone you love. You’re sick and you need help but it won’t be from me,” she says vehemently. “You won’t hurt me again.”

In his drunken (or hungover) state, his actions were sluggish but Evie was faster as he lifted his arm. Evie pushes him back and throws a right hook as hard as she can into his face. A satisfying crunch sounds followed by pain in her hand that shoots up her arm.

She lets out a cry from the pain as he stumbles back then the door opens and Luke is there.

“LUKE!” Evie shouts cowering further into the corner as Danny continues to stumble.

Luke launches himself at Danny, kneeing him in the gut and punching him a few times until he’s slumped in a heap on the floor. Danny groans as Luke holds him up by the collar of his shirt.

“You’ll never touch her again, you bastard,” Luke spits then gives him on final punch and Danny is knocked out. He rushes over to Evie who collapses into his arms then lets out a whimper. “Did he hurt you? Where are you hurt?”

“I-I punched him and I think I hurt my hand,” Evie lifts her right hand that is already looking swollen and red.

Luke holds it gingerly in his own hands inspecting it. He flexes her fingers straight, she winces as he feels the bones and her wrist.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he murmurs, “but we can have a doctor check it out.”

“Luke, we have—what the hell?” Ashton exclaims behind them.

“Call Officer Roth,” Luke tells them, “and make sure he doesn’t fucking move. I’m taking Evie to have her hand looked at.”

Luke holds her left hand leading her cautiously around Danny and out the door. Nell gives Evie a concerned look but Evie smiles and mutters an ‘I’m fine.’

The doctor on site inspected Evie’s hand and came to the conclusion it was only sprained. Evie is given an ice pack and told to keep ice on it to keep the swelling down and take ibuprofen for the pain. Two cops enter the gym after the doctor leaves, Officer Roth spots them from across the way.

“Are you all right, Miss Carson?” Officer Roth asks.

“I’m okay,” she nods, “I hit him this time.” Her eyes widen at her confession. “You aren’t going to arrest me are you? He came at me first and I defended—“

“No, no, you aren’t going to get arrested,” Officer Roth smiles kindly. “We’ll make sure he’ll be locked up for a long time. Apparently there’s an order for his arrest back at his place of residence, other girls have come forward explaining what he’s done. I’m so sorry you had to endure all of this.”

“He’s going to be taken away?” she asks faintly.

“Yes. Some allegations are from seventeen year old women,” Officer Roth responds gravely, “he won’t hurt anyone ever again. I promise you. You may have to head back home and speak to a judge and the police there, though. To give your statement of the past and from what happened a few weeks ago.”

Luke hold rubs the back of her neck in assurance at the news.

Evie takes a deep breath.

“If it will put him away I’ll do anything,” she nods, “Thank you Officer Roth.”

“I’m glad this will all come to an end for you. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call. And congratulations on the title, Luke. My partner and I heard the news from people on our way in.”

“Thank you,” Luke smiles and Officer Roth nods one last time before leaving. Luke turns to Evie and shakes his head in wonder. “You actually punched him.”

“I did,” she laughs shakily. “It felt good.”

“That’s my girl,” he kisses her temple then holds her against him in a warm embrace.

• • • •

After Luke joined Evie on the trip back home to give her statement and photo evidence of what Danny did to her, he asked her to move in with him when they got back to LA. She agreed happily throwing her arms around him.

Danny will be in jail for the rest of his life and Evie finally feels like she can breathe. She’s happy with her new life with Luke, she adores the new friends she’s made and is happy she gets to experience this all with her cousin Nell by her side.

Luke and Evie are practice fighting at the gym, it’s a weekly thing now. Evie has excelled in her boxing but will only use it as a workout and not as a profession like Luke.

They’re moving quickly and fast across the room, Luke taunts her (all in good fun) just to get her riled up and at her first slip-up, he cages her against the cool wall in between his arms.

“You’ve got to stay focused, baby,” he smiles leaning close to her body.

“You fight so dirty,” she giggles reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin.

Luke rubs the scar above her forehead with his thumb then slides his eyes down to meet hers, an amused look on her face.

“But your love’s so sweet,” he grins slotting his lips against hers in a loving kiss.

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Provisional License Exam & Aftermath, The Boys Are Fighting And Everything Hurts

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Additional content warning for bad communication, emotional breakdowns and general anxiousness. Chapter 9.

***

“Oi. Kiri.”

Another heap of sugar goes into Kirishima’s mug. He stirs a bit, then licks caramel-sweet goodness off the spoon. Perfect. With a content hum, he leans further into the embrace of his favorite armchair.

“Mmyeah?”

Across from him, Bakugou sips his own coffee. Looking all kinds of cozy from his perch by the window, shoes off, U.A.’s uniform narrowed down to just the shirt and pants. Only Iida and Momo have made it down to the common room yet, yawning their way through breakfast with last-minute notes spread out over the kitchen counter.

Their quiet conversation is mere background noise for them. It’s a familiar enough routine that neither duo exchanged more than acknowledging nods before settling into their preferred corners.

Bakugou toes the wood of the windowsill with socked feet, hands calm around his mug. His gaze idles on a group of sparrows outside.

“By this time tomorrow, we’ll be heroes.” Soft-spoken, the words nonetheless sound as solid as ever.

“Provisional ones”, Kirishima reminds him, a mix of excitement and nerves making his leg bounce, the carpet underneath ruffling with the motion. There’s still an exam to pass between then and now. “But still. Licensed and everything.”

“Mh”, Bakugou breathes into his coffee. He sends Kirishima a wry look over its rim. “Nervous?”

Thinking on it for a moment, Kirishima smiles. “Nah, not really. We worked our asses off for it. Like, we totally got this.”

Bakugou’s smirk comes swift and it stays: a dare for the world to do its worst, a promise to come out on top despite it all. Kirishima offers him his fist and Bakugou meets him in the middle, used to the gesture by now. Sparks crackle over rock-hewn skin.

“Damn right we do.”

*

The names flicker on the screen and Kirishima searches.

K, K, Ki, Kiri– There! Kirishima Eijirou.

“Hell yes”, he cheers, the doubts clinging to his heart dropping all the way to his feet. The second he’s got his phone back, he’ll scream-yell a voice message to his moms – finally, finally, Red Riot will exist out there. In reality, not just his wildest dreams.

Automatically, Kirishima jumps to the beginning of the list.

B, Ba, Baku–

Next to him, Bakugou sucks in a breath. That, more than anything, brings his head crashing from the clouds and straight to the ground, to the spot on that list where Bakugou’s name should be but isn’t. Kirishima frowns, his eyes scanning the row starting with B one more time.

“Dude, what…?” No Bakugou Katsuki. “No way.”

One glimpse, that’s all he gets. One glance at Bakugou’s face and that expression Kirishima recognizes from the longest night of his life, that déjà vu of devastation and loss a sucker punch nailing Kirishima right in the gut–

Before he can reach out, it’s gone. Bakugou grits his teeth and juts his chin up, and any trace of it is replaced by anger. Cold, lethal, seeping into squared shoulders and brows drawn deep enough to cast his gaze in shadows.

“Katsu–”

A harsh tch interrupts him, followed by a softer “Congrats, Riot” mumbled in Kirishima’s direction. Bakugou won’t meet his eyes, though, and when Kirishima’s fingers brush Bakugou’s, he crosses his arms instead.

“Thanks”, Kirishima mumbles back, all thoughts of celebrating dead and gone. He doesn’t try to reach out again.

*

1-A spills into the common room as one, smiles and laughter all around. The air previously heavy with anticipation now carries only relief, that clean petrichor taste that follows a downpour at the height of summer.

Despite the stone weight of worry in his stomach, Kirishima laughs along with them. He leans into the lanky arm Sero drapes across his shoulders and returns the fist bump Jirou offers him before Kaminari tackle-hugs the three of them towards the couches.

“Smash tournament! Now!”

“It is our last night off before the new term”, Jirou supplies with a shrug. A thoughtful look is cast towards Bakugou, turning sly as it meets Kaminari’s. “Though, may I propose: Rock Band?”

“Ohhh”, coos Sero, joined by an enthusiastic nod by Kaminari. “Whoo yeah! U.A.’s best fake guitarist, reporting for duty!”

Kirishima loves his friends, he really does. If there’s one thing Bakugou has consistently enjoyed during their hangouts, it’s violently crushing them via the e-drum set he brought from home. That thing shows some serious signs of wear, too, the silicone cover warped or even torn in places.

(The high score list features his name like five times before their resident runner-up – Shouji, surprisingly – even makes an appearance, additional limb advantage and all.)

“I’m in. Wanna duo, Jack?” Jirou gives Kirishima a thumbs-up from where she’s already setting up the microphones. He turns around. “Nitro, you–?”

Bakugou isn’t next to him anymore. Before Kirishima can ask, he hears Mina call out, “Blasty, where are you going?”, and follows the question to Bakugou’s turned back clearly headed for the elevators.

“Room”, Bakugou answers, clipped, rough. The glare he throws over his shoulder might as well be lines of caution tape fluttering in the wind, storm sirens howling in the distance. Keep out. “Have fun playing your shitty game.”

Kirishima sees the hurricane about to hit a second before Mina makes a grab for Bakugou’s wrist, determination shining in black-rimmed eyes. “It’s Rock Band”, she tells him, meeting the snarl on Bakugou’s face with stubborn compassion. “You love Rock Band.”

“What do you know, hah?” Bakugou snaps, tugging away. “Fucking– Get off me!”

Mina’s grip tightens, Bakugou’s hand is raised – familiar, so familiar, that glint of rage in blood-red pupils – and Kirishima is on his feet, pulling Mina behind himself to shield her from an explosion that never comes.

It’s a close call, though. Kirishima feels the heat coming off Bakugou’s palm, the wince he tries to hide when he clenches it to a fist instead.

“This isn’t your fight, Shark Teeth. Back off.”

“Bakugou.”

Firm, resolute. Kirishima’s voice is like volcanic glass: smooth on the surface, jagged around the edges. There’s a warning in there, too, his jaw clenched just as tightly as Bakugou’s. “Not cool, man. Mina’s just trying to help.”

Bakugou huffs at the mere notion of that. “Well, Mina can fuck right off. I don’t need shit from any of you.”

The truth is: Bakugou is different with Kirishima, he’s always been. Even now Kirishima can see him shift his weight, change gears in his mind, the door so firmly shut for others left ajar for him.

Bakugou only listens because it’s Kirishima speaking and he hates it, sometimes. Like his word counts above everyone else’s when it doesn’t, it shouldn’t.

“Look, I get why you’re pissed off but it’s not our fault, either. Alright? There’s no point in acting like this, dude.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, that sliver of a chance snuffed out of existence. A vicious sneer takes its place. “Acting like what? Like myself? Give me a break.”

“Guys”, Mina cuts in, sounding meek, uncomfortable. Bakugou doesn’t get to do that, not when he’s proven he’s better than that, time and time again – not when he’s careful with his quirk, when he’s stopped hiding that genuine smile that’s getting less and less rare, when he helps and soothes and pretends not to care and cares so fucking much.

Around them most of the class shuffles along, hovering on the sidelines. Kirishima can feel the looks, the hushed whispers ready to burst into existence, the fidgety sort of concern radiating from Midoriya in waves.

He ignores them all, looking Bakugou dead in the eye when he says: “No, Katsuki, like an asshole. It’s not like you at all.”

Behind him, Mina whispers, “Stop, Kiri, it’s okay.” From the couches come hisses of surprise, a murmured “Woah, dude” that sounds like Kaminari. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that it hurts. It hurts to see Bakugou flinching like he’s been physically struck. To see emotion spill through the cracks in his armor, cracks Kirishima put there. But Bakugou listens when it’s him, and if there’s one thing he needs to hear, it’s this.

“Like, I get it. I know how it feels, you of all people know that. And extra lessons suck ass, believe me.” Kirishima takes a deep breath, letting go of his anger on the exhale until there’s only resolve, that strength he’s fostered and made his own with Bakugou at his side.

“But lashing out at people won’t fix anything. The stuff holding you back – it’s all you, man, that’s what you gotta work on. You’re the manliest person I know, so you’ll definitely get there, and then you’ll keep going until you’re Number One. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that’s how it’s gonna go. But it’s up to you to make sure it does.”

Bakugou is staring at him, pale-faced and still. He opens his mouth. “You done?”, he asks, his voice ground into something raw, something tired.

“Yeah”, Kirishima tells him, gentle again. “Yeah, I think I am.”

A nod. Bakugou glances past him, for a moment, at the ball of tension behind Kirishima that is Mina. Another nod, more hesitant.

“Blasty, I–”

Without another word, Bakugou leaves, shouldering past Midoriya on his way out. Kirishima watches him go and wonders if doing the right thing always feels so much like regret.

*

I fucked up.

Bundled up in his covers, Kirishima sits on his bed and stares at the wall. The cheerful colors and big exclamation points on his posters are little more than a blur, made obscure by the dark of night settling in around him.

The light switch is just across the room yet impossibly far away. Kirishima’s phone buzzes; the screen comes alive with a notification. It goes ignored.

I fucked up.

Kirishima’s gaze falls to the license in his hands, bland-looking next to the busy camo pattern of his favorite blanket. Red Riot, it says in bold letters under his name, date of birth and affiliation to U.A. – issued today, with the picture they took before they changed into their hero costumes. Himself, grinning with too much teeth, his hair freshly dyed and spiked to the heavens, his uniform done up meticulously.

It feels like a year ago that Bakugou rolled his eyes and fixed his collar, muttering something about ‘looking okay for once’. In turn, Kirishima had nudged and prodded him until he put on his tie, which lasted not one second beyond the flash of the camera.

But–

You done?

The card is small, unassuming, really. Kirishima blinks. One tear, then two pearl over flawless plastic. Three, four, head bowed as they drip, drip, drip down the tip of his nose.

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. They were supposed to get their licenses, take the night off, sing and laugh and headbang to their audience of pixelated metalheads and forget the world for a while.

It was supposed to be about them, about the dream they shared over coffee this morning. About the future they’re reaching for, together.

Kirishima wants to toss the license to places unknown, wants to tell himself that it means nothing but it does. He waited for this moment longer than he cares to trace back, a long time, definitely. All that hard work, the sweat and blood he shed for it – perhaps it’s only right he adds tears to the mix.

Gods, I fucked up so bad.

He sniffs wetly, sets the card aside. There’s a spot for it in his wallet, he made sure of that as they stepped off the bus. Still, he needs to keep it in sight, like object permanence stops being a thing where one’s hero status is concerned.

Again, buzz buzz, his phone rattles quietly against wood. With a shuddering breath, Kirishima reaches for it, reads Simply Mina and 🦊 Eevee Squad 🦊 and swipes right until his home screen is just Riot’s canine smile again. All it does is remind him of an afternoon spent out in the yard, of a snoring dog and gentle touches to soft fur.

Two taps, and he’s back where he started: Staring at fond, red eyes in the corner and the unanswered messages underneath. Kirishima’s lips start to tremble.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

hey (sent 18:12)

can we talk? (sent 18:12)

i’m sorry (sent 18:30)

i’m so fucking sorry baku idk what i was thinking (sent 18:31)

just. please (sent 18:35)

idk what to do (sent 18:35)

katsuki? (sent 19:01)

The last three are still unread. Kirishima had just calmed himself down from the panicked jolt of blue ticks and grey ticks and Bakugou’s gone when a door had slammed shut hard enough to rattle Kirishima’s desk.

Kirishima wanted to go out there. He wanted to catch up to Bakugou and explain himself and make things right; instead he’d stayed right where he was and listened to his distinct stomp growing more and more faint like the coward he is.

There’s been nothing but silence ever since.

“Stop”, Kirishima whispers, a strangled, pathetic noise amidst the tears sliding down his cheeks. “Just s-stop. Fucking stop.” Tilting his head back, he knocks it against the wall, hoping against all hope that he’ll stop crying, that this shivering, miserable thing in his chest will relent and let him breathe for a bit.

Instead, he clenches his eyes shut and lets out a choked sob. It’s followed by another, another, until Kirishima presses his face into the blanket and gives in.

Hands fisting in loose hair, he curls in on himself, head tucked against his knees and desperately gasping for air. The walls are thick but not that thick – Shouji can probably hear him, if he’s even in, and Kirishima silently begs him to stay away. To be allowed to break in private like he’s done a thousand times before, after every moment he spent frozen in place, every time he didn’t act fast enough or act at all.

Were you scared?

He hadn’t been. For once in his life, Kirishima hadn’t been afraid – he’d been angry, furious even, hopeful and disappointed and worried and he’d fucked up because of it. That moment Bakugou shut up and just… took whatever Kirishima had to say is burned into his brain, aching and tender to the touch. Kirishima can’t stop putting his finger on it, though, like revisiting it will make it sting less, somehow.

It doesn’t.

Time is a fickle concept. Kirishima is aware it passes, he’s aware his blanket is soaked, that his back hurts and his heart hurts and his head, too. He’s back to blankly looking at his wall and seeing nothing, only interrupted by an occasional sniffle, when–

The snap of a lock turning, a door opening and closing, much quieter than before.

A glance to his clock tells him it’s an hour to midnight and way past curfew. The worry he felt earlier rekindles, glows bright enough to overshadow any other emotion swirling within him. It’s not like Bakugou to be up this late. It’s not like him to break rules like this.

It’s not like you at all.

Roughly, Kirishima rubs his arm over his face. Enough crying. Enough hiding away. Bakugou deserves better than public callouts and texts sent in a panic. Kirishima promised himself he’d be better – it’s worth next to nothing if he can’t keep it.

That fact doesn’t prevent his heart from beating half-way up his throat by the time he slips out his door and stands in front of Bakugou’s. His hand shakes as it’s raised to knock; Kirishima wills it to steady and raps his knuckles against wood, mindful of the late hour.

“Bakugou?”

Nothing.

“Listen, I…” Kirishima breathes through the squirming of guilt in his gut. “I messed up, man. I know you’re in there and if you’d rather not see me, that’s fine. But I know I hurt you a-and I want to apologize if… if you’ll let me.”

Wringing his hands, he blinks heavily and wills himself not to tear up again. Bakugou has every right to shut him out; it’s up to Kirishima to do what he should’ve done in the first place and respect his wishes.

It’s a reality he doesn’t have to face, however – the knob turns and the door cracks open the slightest bit. When it doesn’t move beyond that, Kirishima pushes for it to open further, sticking his head through the gap.

“Nitro?”

Silhouetted by his bedside lamp, Bakugou is tossing up his covers to properly burrow inside them. “Get your ass in here already”, he says over his shoulder, a bite to his tone Kirishima recognizes from their early days. “And close the door. It’s fucking late.”

He practically jumps to the task. “Okay, yeah, sorry!” Once the door clicks shut, Kirishima shuffles his feet, wanting to get closer but unsure if he’s allowed. Carefully, he makes his way over and stops, half a step in the circle of light cast around Bakugou’s bed.

“So. Um…” His hand brushes red strands behind his ear. His palms are sweaty. “I–”

“Did you mean it?”

Bakugou doesn’t even sound angry; Kirishima would definitely deserve it if he was. He’s unsure if that no-bullshit edge is any better, though, swallowing heavily. “Yeah. Well, kinda. The– the words were right but…” He clenches his hands to fists, brings his gaze up to look at him.

Kirishima’s eyes widen. The rest of that sentence flees from his mind entirely.

“What…?”

Scrapes, bruises, gauze stuck to both cheeks, bandages wrapped around both arms. Back to the wall, legs loosely crossed in front of him, Bakugou looks like he went a round or five with a superpowered bobcat, dried blood clinging to some of the many scratches on his skin.

Yet his eyes are focused, pinning Kirishima with the same precision with which he handles everything in life. “But?”

“Bakugou! What happened?!”

“Picked a fight.” A sharp sniff. Bakugou shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “‘s none of your business. Answer my question.”

Ouch. Kirishima doesn’t linger on that, he can’t, too busy mentally cataloguing the damage and trying not to drag Bakugou to the infirmary ASAP. Which–

“We gotta– Recovery Girl. She’ll heal you right up.”

Bakugou huffs a laugh, no humor in it whatsoever. “Already went. It’s done. Answer the fucking question, Kirishima.”

It’s incredibly hard to unstick his mind from whatever the hell happened there. Like a wrestling match with his own thoughts, struggling to get them on the wrong set of tracks despite his brain frantically gesturing towards Bakugou.

Kirishima rubs his palms over his face, pats his cheeks none-too-gently for good measure. Focus.

“Right. Yes, I meant what I said. It’s– Mina isn’t me, Baku. She can’t take your anger like I can, okay? They… they were just trying to cheer you up and you were out of line. But–”

Bakugou’s gaze isn’t letting him go, intense like they’re mid-battle and he’s trying to figure out Kirishima’s next move. Guard all the way up. Kirishima drops his hands, wide open.

“Your day was already crappy enough without me putting you on the spot like that. You said you wanted to go and I forced you to stay and deal with even more stuff because I was angry and worried and… Yeah. I went about it all wrong and I’m sorry.”

Those damn tears are lurking at the corners of his eyes, itching and burning but Kirishima fights them off. He nods to the ground.

“I really let you down. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Kirishima waits. For a moment that feels eternal, he stands there with his head bowed and his fingers clinging to the edge of his shirt. He fully expects to be met with silence until he gets the memo and leaves.

Then Bakugou sighs.

“You look like hell, y’know that? Your eyes are all puffy and shit.”

Wincing, Kirishima nods again. “I know.” He peeks up through the gaps in his hair.

Bakugou huffs, exasperated and so much more like himself. “Don’t give me that. I’m still pissed at you.”

There. A chance. All it takes is a leap of faith. “But?”, Kirishima asks quietly.

“But nothing, fucker. I’m pissed, full stop.” A glower that would make a quirked-up Aizawa proud. Bakugou crosses his arms; Kirishima ducks his head. “You’re lucky you’re you or I’d have kicked your ass straight to whichever place stupid potato dogs like you go to when they die.”

Don’t laugh. Kirishima bites his lip. Half a second later, a pillow smacks his shoulder with impressive force.

“Shut up. I got it, okay? I know I’m”, a pause filled with teeth grinding audibly, “difficult, I guess. And an asshole. I know all that.”

The urge to laugh is replaced by a shot of vertigo, like Kirishima missed a step down a flight of stairs. Their eyes meet, and Bakugou glares.

“It’s what you said. Don’t you dare take it back now.”

“But that’s not what I mea–”

“Tough shit, bitch, ‘cause that’s what I got from it. It’s fine, okay? If someone’s gonna call me out on my bullshit it’s gotta be you. It’s just–”

Bakugou drops his hands in his lap, staring at the bandages running up to his elbows. There are blisters on his right palm, visible even in the half-dark.

“Not in front of everyone?”, Kirishima offers in a small voice.

A tense breath. “Yeah. Makes me wanna blow up and lose my shit for real.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that. I told you it’s fucking fine.”

“But–”

“Eijirou.”

Kirishima’s heart squeezes. Bakugou looks so exhausted and it’s all his fault. Still, he mumbles, “Okay”, and he wordlessly swears on everything he holds dear that he’ll listen, next time. That he’ll trust Bakugou to do the right thing and stay in control.

“Okay.” Bakugou’s eyes are on him again, less heavy now. “I don’t wanna talk about the fight, either.”

Kirishima’s hands clench, not tight enough to rip into the fabric but close enough. “At all or…?”

“Not sure yet. Definitely not tonight.”

“Okay”, Kirishima repeats. It’s not forever. He can handle anything if it’s not forever. “Um. Are we cool? I get it if… not. I can leave, too. Whatever you want.”

Unexpectedly, Bakugou groans, almost… amused? “Screw you. I should be milking the fuck outta this but… Yeah, we’re cool.”

Oh. Kirishima can’t help the way his resolve wobbles with how relieved he is, keeping his shaky inhale as stealthy as possible. He fucked up and his best friend doesn’t hate him. They’re gonna be okay.

“Kiri…”

There’s a strange expression on Bakugou’s face, pinched and frustrated-looking. His eyes are soft, though. Concerned. “Stop crying, you big baby. C’mere. And bring my pillow, I actually need it.”

Kirishima keeps it casual. He grabs the pillow and pads over instead of running. He tosses it in Bakugou's lap, earning a grumbled, “Thanks.”

Almost casual. There’s an attempt, at least, chucked right out the window the second Bakugou sort-of-maybe-kind-of indicates the possibility of a hug. Then he’s throwing himself on the bed, the sight of raw skin and gauze-white turning his tackle into a marginally gentler embrace of Bakugou’s shoulders.

Bakugou squeezes back, brutally tight. “Hold back on me again and I’m kicking you out.”

A wheeze of breath turns into hushed laughter. “I’ll do better.” Kirishima tucks his face against Bakugou’s neck and sniffles. “I’ll be good, Nitro, I swear.”

Bakugou knocks their heads together, too gentle to even register as that. His lips against Kirishima’s temple, he mumbles, “You already are, idiot. One dumb mistake won’t change that.”

>>Chapter 9.

[yamisnuffles]

Let Them Eat Crepes

Crowley suffers through Aziraphale eating crepes after the rescue at the Bastille.

Rated M. Read on Ao3

A very silly thing written as a gift for @racketghost to hopefully bring her some cheer. - - - - -

When Crowley had taken up residence in Paris, it hadn’t been to play host to a fussy angel with a death wish. He’d thought of the angel. Of course he had. Any time through history when he kept a room with a bed, he took some time to imagine said angel in said bed. But Paris was a nightmare and he was only there to keep up appearances, maybe scrape up the occasional detail for a report. He hadn’t thought Aziraphale would ever actually appear. Not in the middle of a bloody revolution. Certainly not dressed like that.

“What good fortune they offer crepes at the very same inn where you are keeping a room,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley sipped at his cider. It was supposed to pair well with the crepes. Not that he was eating any himself, despite having ordered food. Somehow his plates always ended up in front of Aziraphale.

“Yeah, fortunate.”

Aziraphale wiggled in his seat and speared another bite on his fork. “And such good ones, too.”

He punctuated the statement with a moan that sent Crowley’s blood on a trip south. He took a much larger gulp of cider. Alcohol tended to at least postpone the inevitable reaction to watching the angel eat. At this rate, he’d probably be better off asking for a whole cask. They were only two plates in and hadn’t yet reached the cruelest part of any meal.

Crowley was fairly certain Aziraphale resented the creation of forks. Sure, he would use them, but there always came a moment in any meal when he abandoned his utensils in favor of more natural options. Whether it was licking the last bit of broth from a bowl or chasing some spot of cream with his fingers, it happened without fail and it was hell. Literal hell. Well, maybe not literal but Crowley thought it came close to anything they’d come up with Downstairs.

He was, at present, using a torn off scrap of crepe to sop up a bit of golden yolk. He swept the delicate pastry across the plate and let it drag through gooey Gruyère that clung to his thumb and forefinger. Once this process was complete, he would pop it all into his mouth with a moan and suck his fingers clean. He continued on with a single minded focus until the plate was absolutely spotless and Crowley was on the edge of breaking his tightly clenched jaw.

Aziraphale stopped short of putting the final bite in his mouth and looked up at Crowley, as if only just remembering he wasn’t alone. “I know you said you didn’t want any, but maybe just a taste? It really was divine.”

He held out that final scrap on the tip of glistening fingers, as though he expected Crowley to simply nip it away.

Hell. It was hell and Crowley was going to die.

He licked his lips. “Nah. No. M’fine.” He coughed and looked at the empty bottom of his mug. He considered getting more but he needed more than just alcohol at that point. “I’ve got a few good bottles in my room. How about we head up there.”

Aziraphale ate the rejected scrap of food and licked away the grease that had coated his fingers as he held it. “But I haven’t finished yet,” he said with a frown. “It would be a shame to go through all that nasty business at the Bastille without at least eating my fill.”

Wide blue eyes drifted toward the kitchen and then back at Crowley, widening further as they went. Eyebrows lifted up. A bottom lip made its appearance and wobbled for good measure. It really was a marvel, looking back, that it had taken Crowley so long to suggest Aziraphale take on temptations. The angel was a natural at it.

Crowley ran his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth and considered his options. “Ehhh, it’ll be fine. They’ll bring the food up.” They might not know why, but given they’d only started offering crepes an hour ago, it was hardly the most confusing thing they’d been through that day. “We can finish up in my room.”

“Oh, good.” It was clear the moment Aziraphale was appeased because his pout was instantly replaced by a smile. “Well then, lead the way.”

Crowley risked a surreptitious glance downward that he hoped his glasses blocked from view. Despite the growing tension in his abdomen, it didn’t look like his trousers were in a state to give him away. If he walked a little oddly, he had to hope Aziraphale was too focused on the promise of future crepes to notice.

When they got up to Crowley’s room, Aziraphale gave it all an appraising look. He wrinkled his nose at one of the chairs, removed his hat, and used it to wipe the offending furniture off before he took a seat. “Charming place you have here.”

Crowley shrugged with as much disinterest as he could physically muster and went into the small bedroom off the main room. The wardrobe had been repurposed as a wine cabinet. “Doesn’t need to be charming. I’m a demon. It’s supposed to be dark and dank and gloomy,” he called back as he ran his fingers over the labels of some of the wine he’d liberated from now deceased nobles. He grabbed two bottles of Chardonnay and glasses for the both of them and, after a moment of chewing on his lip, a bottle of Champagne. “Besides, not like I’m planning on staying much longer.”

When he returned, he found two large platters of crepes had been delivered. Aziraphale had a fork in hand but seemed unable to decide which to sample first. He settled on one dusted in sugar with sliced lemons on top. His lips puckered slightly around the lemon before relaxing back to a smile. Crowley wanted to lick into his mouth and see if the tartness of the lemon remained or if it would be all Aziraphale. Instead he uncorked a bottle with his teeth and drank a hearty swig of Chardonnay.

“If dark and dank is what you were going for,” Aziraphale said, “then well done, my dear. It’s good to hear you won’t be lingering, though.”

Crowley swallowed down more wine. Between that and all the cider before, he could feel his limbs loosening. He stretched out his legs, forgetting why he’d been keeping them crossed in the first place. “Not much more to do here, really. Can only write, ‘the humans have chopped off more heads’ so many times. Got my commendation, anyway. Might as well head out before Downstairs starts expecting something new and exciting.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Seems prudent.”

He picked up a stray slice of lemon, dabbed it in sugar, licked it clean, and then did it all over again again. Crowley watched the whole thing, entirely enraptured, especially when Aziraphale’s thick, pink tongue would make an appearance to remove any lingering sugar from his lips. Warmth that had nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol Crowley had imbibed settled firmly between his legs. His feet had wandered dangerously close to enemy territory. He pulled them back and threw one foot over a knee in an attempt to disguise the growing tenting in his trousers.

“Those worth losing your head over?” he asked, nodding his head toward the food.

Aziraphale took the bottle from Crowley and poured himself a glass. “Sometimes you miss life’s little pleasures and you have to take a risk to get what you want.”

Pink blossomed high on his cheeks. Crowley tilted his head.

“But death? For crepes?”

Aziraphale smiled around another bite. “Yes, well, it would have only been discorporation and they’re really rather good, if a bit clueless.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Are we still talking about crepes?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer beyond a small huff of laughter. Silence settled in while he continued on eating. Crowley was certain he was missing something but he was too distracted by the sight in front of him to think straight.

It was odd to see the angel in red. Some secret part buried deep in his chest liked it, loved the message of rebellion that it shouted to the world. He'd never admit to it but, as much as he liked it, he'd loved every last gold thread on the absurd outfit that had come before. He could still see heavy manacles around delicate, lace covered wrists. He could practically feel the ghost of curved calves wrapped in sumptuous stockings. His fingers ached from the memory of feet clad in ostentatious silk. How he'd wanted to take it all off, piece by ridiculous piece.

And there Aziraphale was before him, with a view of the bed just beyond. Maybe he would wear those chains again. Or, better yet, perhaps he’d put himself entirely in Crowley’s hands. Crowley could spread him out on the mattress and peel it all away until only pale skin and paler hair remained.

Aziraphale dropped his fork with a clatter. “Oh.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just that he could imagine it all perfectly, Aziraphale really was back in all his finery. Only, it wasn’t identical to what he’d been wearing before. Gold had been replaced by silver and a vein of deep scarlet ran through the embroidery on the sleeve.

“Well, that was certainly frivolous of me,” Aziraphale said, oblivious to Crowley’s growing distress, “but Heaven can hardly fault me if I didn’t mean to do it. I had been thinking about how much nicer silk was against the skin but… no, I certainly don’t remember actually willing it back.”

“Right, unhhhh—” Crowley’s voice came out as a choked squeak. He opened another bottle and, in a maneuver not recommended to those without demonic serpentine attributes, downed half of it in one tremendous gulp. He tried not to consider the way the angel’s eyes were trained on his neck as he ran the back of his hand across wine stained lips. “Sometimes these things just happen. You know. No use worrying about it. No one will see you here, so just eat the rest of your crepes.”

The corners of Aziraphale’s mouth tugged down slightly. “If you’re impatient to be somewhere, don’t let me keep you.”

“Not impatient just…” Crowley switched the cross of his legs in search of some relief. He had to use one hand to still the other in order to keep from palming away the ever building tension. “You know.”

Aziraphale arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I do. Are you alright, my dear? You seem uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m, er…” Crowley tugged at his collar. It was too tight. He could feel himself swallowing and every swallow sent his mind elsewhere. “Hot. Should probably open the windows.” He was halfway to his feet when he remembered why getting to his feet under Aziraphale’s watchful gaze was probably not the best idea. It didn’t seem likely the angel would be secretly ecstatic to find out that he was hopelessly hard just from watching him eat. “Actually, nah. Would need to open the curtains and with your clothes… best to keep things shut. I’ll be fine. Really. Get back to your crepes. You said it yourself, it would be a shame not to finish after everything you did to get them.”

Aziraphale picked at his final crepe. His whole body melted with a moan as soon as it touched his tongue. All the while, his eyes were still locked on Crowley.

“Oh, but it wasn’t just me who went through a lot for these.” He carefully cut another portion of crepe and nudged the sliced tip of a strawberry onto it. He then swirled it through a cloud of rich cream and held up the fork. “Strawberries and whipped cream. Try a bite. For your troubles.”

The whipped cream lost its structure against the warm crepe. A rivulette of white travelled down the length of the fork and onto Aziraphale’s fingers. Crowley licked his lips. He couldn’t possibly take that bite or he would never be able to stop. But Aziraphale was looking at him so expectantly and he couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse.

He leaned forward and took the fork into his mouth. It was alright, as food went, but he barely registered the taste. He was far too focused on the way his cock pressed to his stomach when he was bent forward. And then there was proximity of those white, sticky fingers. His head swam with visions of grabbing Aziraphale by the wrist and licking the cream away.

It was all a mouthful too far. He’d tried. He really had. His eyes shut as a desperate groan tore up from his throat and his trousers became a mirror of Aziraphale’s fingers, wet and sticky and warm. He wasn’t sure he could bear to open his eyes again. He fell back into his seat and dared to crack open one eye.

Aziraphale was smiling. “I told you it was good.” He pushed the plate forward. “Would you like to share the rest?”

Crowley sighed and leaned his head back. “Nah, you eat it. I’m good for at least a couple more hours.”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 4

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1       Part 2      Part 3      Part 5

Next Morning

“We’re done here, OK?” The Joker shouts and you stomp away, furious at his behavior.

“Of course we are done, who the hell would put up with you?!! You’re horrible!!!”

“It finally clicked? Good!!!! Come on, speed it up and disappear!!!!” he points at the top of the hill where your car is parked.

You walk faster and J is increasingly frustrated with each step you take.

“So what you said was a lie?!” he yells before he can stop himself. “You assured me I’ll get used with being loved and here you are running from me! Hypocrite! Who’s the liar now, huh?”

You turn around, stunned.

How dare he twist your most intimate confessions in such a manner?

Y/N and The Joker glare at each other for a few moments before you voice all the bitterness and resentment building up in your heart loud enough for him to hear:

“I hate you!”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks. “Perfect! I’m used to it!”

You reprise your stroll, determined not to fall into his little traps anymore: this time is over and you have to put as much distance in between the two of you in the next few seconds before he attempts one of his tricks.

Not that you would fall for it again, but you never know…

One last glare while you try to open the car door and you see him flair his arms around loudly screaming at his phone; your fingers keep missing the lock and you kick the metal frame, irritated. Another glance and you spot a vehicle driving in the parking lane towards where The Joker is.

“J?...” you hesitantly call out to him yet The Joker probably has the earbuds in so he can’t hear you. “J!!!” you wave to get his attention without success. “Oh my God!” you rush back in his direction when you realize that SUV will hit him if it continues the present trajectory. “J!!! J!!!!”

The King is too absorbed in his business conversation thus he finally sees Y/N next to him as she violently pushes him out of harm’s way.

The strong impact wakes you up and you gasp for air, panicked. Your troubled mind has difficulty catching up with reality: a damaged brain can’t possibly render any type of comfort in this situation.

“Why are you crying?” J mumbles half asleep. “Did you have a bad dream?”

You seem confused and unresponsive to his questions, no other choice besides waking up to check on you.

“Calm down. You had a nightmare, ok?” he pulls the agitated Y/N in his arms. “ Hey, it’s me!”

You whimper at the pain paralyzing your body and don’t complain when he drags you on top of him; it actually feels soothing having someone close that understands what’s happening to you.

“Don’t hold me so tight, I can’t breathe,” J pecks your forehead where the blood clot pressing on your frontal lobe should be. “Better?” he asks a tearful girlfriend that ultimately begins to understand she wasn’t hit by a car minutes ago: it’s an ordeal she already went through months ago despite the aftermath of the accident still creating problems. “Such an early bird,” The Clown yawns since he won’t be able to doze off after your episode. “Only 7 am Princess…” the grumbled noises make you receptive to his complaint. “What about you give me some sugar in exchange for my services?” J suggests, quite puzzled when you roll off him and stumble out of the bedroom. “Where are you going?!”

You don’t answer because you’re concentrating just on what your neurons were able to translate in such a short notice: your man wants sugar. That’s why you’re in a big hurry to bring him a bag containing the sweet product, happily offering the item to his majesty The King of Gotham.

“For God’s sake, Pumpkin!” he accepts the gift nevertheless and places it on the covers. “That’s not what I meant,” he snatches Y/N in his arms and kisses her.

“No…sugar?...” you inquire out of genuine curiosity.

“I already got it,” he mischievously smirks at your bafflement, deciding to exercise your skills at once. “Say Princess: if I give you two kisses and then I give you two more, how many kisses do you get?”

“Ummm…” you debate on the question,”… not enough?”

“Due to your high standards, certainly,” The Joker huffs at the genuine reply. “Your solution is not wrong, but I’m looking for a number. Two plus two? Come on, you already know this one!”

“Mmmm… Four?...” you blur out and get groped as reward.

“Good girl!” J proudly applauds your abilities at crack of dawn. “Enough algebra for this morning,” he changes topic. “Your doctor appointment is at 10; you should take a shower soon,” and he rambles on until something is clear: the blank expression on your face hints at the outcome.

“You’re not listening, are you?” he suspiciously inquires.

“No.”

Why would you? Your brain’s self-defense mechanism prevailed at all the information flooding your deteriorated synapses and the result was blocking the outpour of sentences.

“That was a 10 minutes speech, Pumpkin!” The Joker grouchily admonishes the carefree Y/N.

“11,” you gesture at the clock on the wall.

“11 what?”

“11 minutes, not 10,” you nonchalantly conclude.

“Oh, so you have the audacity to time me while you don’t bother keeping up?!”

“Yes,” you giggle and hide your face under the pillow.

“That’s preposterous!”

“Hm?...” your nose emerges from under the cushion at the fascinating word you can’t recollect being in your current vocabulary.

“Preposterous, Princess!” J repeats.”… Stop laughing, would you?” he forcefully hijacks your pillow and you snicker because whatever-the-heck- it-means Preposterous Princess sounds like a hilarious nickname. “You wanna play games?” The Clown Prince of Crime sucks on his silver teeth willing to bring a final showdown to this magical day. “Fine, remember you made me with your abominable behavior!” he reaches for the nightstand in order to grab his favorite deck of cards. “Pick a card, any card; I won’t peak,” J watches the captivated woman pluck her choice from the mound. “Now put it in the stack,” he urges and you follow the instructions.

The Joker vigorously shuffles the cards then searches for yours.

“Is this it?” he triumphantly flicks the Joker card out of the bunch.

You nod a yes completely smitten he guessed again and your terrible half steals a kiss, triumphantly growling to himself:

“Who’s  laughing now, huh?”

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

After Your Doctor’s Appointment

J slides the screen on his phone and before he can utter anything you announce:

“Hi, this is Pre… Pro… Mmm… W-wait,” you stammer and gather your thoughts. “This is Preposterous Princess.”

The Joker sighs, definitely unamused at your 5th call in a row to tell him what’s going on at your routine consultation: he barely finished counting the ammo boxes he received with the shipment after you left and going over the heist scheme for next week it’s made impossible by Y/N.

“Pumpkin, I will remind you that’s not what I meant when I said that word. It was Preposterous COMA Princess!! Two separate entities, alright? We need to have a serious discussion after you get home.”

“I have to go, Pro… Ummm… Preposterous Princess is at…at the gates,” you say it very fast and hang up, excited to share news with him.

Yet The Clown is already acquainted with the whole development on your condition: the doctor’s office contacted him after your departure in order to brief him on Y/N health. The blood clot is a bit smaller since it keeps reabsorbing; the cognitive issues are there, tests ended up pretty much within normal range except one, thus it’s necessary for the two of you to have the dialogue he mentioned about.

Five more minutes and you barge in his office holding your yellow teddy bear and for the first time in his life The Joker can’t help regretting he’s about to burst someone’s bubble.

You approach the desk and set the ultrasound picture in front of him waiting for his reaction; your bright smile doesn’t go well with how gloomy he appears, literally an understatement anyway.

“Baby,” you tap the image just in case he didn’t realize what he’s staring at.

“I know, Pumpkin. We can’t keep it.”

“Hm…?” your smile gradually dies out as you comprehend he’s not on the same page with your wishes.

“We can’t keep the baby, it’s very dangerous given you merely survived a severe trauma. I was told it’s nearly impossible for you to have kids, that’s why I didn’t use… Anyway… I admit this one’s on me and the conclusion is… … we can’t keep the baby.”

“No baby?” you sniffle.

“Nope, it would be too harsh on your body. Plus, you won’t be able to use your anti-inflammatory medication if you’re pregnant.”

“I want baby!”

“Are you deaf??!” J slams the desk with his fist, annoyed. “You can’t have a child, it could kill you. Do you want to perish?!” he rises from his chair.

“No… I want you and baby.”

“No way in hell!” he snarls at your defiance.

“Why can’t I h-have baby? Because… because I’m stupid?” you cuddle with your plush toy, heartbroken at his approach.

“You’re not stupid, but I’m beginning to have doubts if what I told you doesn’t make sense!”

“I want baby!” you whisper on the verge of crying.

“I want baby,” The Joker mocks and watches your demeanor change: it doesn’t take a genius to detangle the mystery of how hurt you seem.

“Are…are you making fun of me?!”

The King is a jerk, no doubt about it. Despite his obvious flaws he never ridiculed someone’s disability; it’s simply beneath him. One could say this is a new low for him and he cannot erase it: Y/N’s cognitive impairment is clearly sacred ground he trespassed on a whim when he shouldn’t have.

“If…if you were like me… I wouldn’t laugh at… at you,” you wipe your tears, sobbing. “I’m not smart… anymore but I can m-make decisions, ok? I want baby!”

“I said no!” J yells, fired up you won’t listen to reason.

“I don… I don’t care!” you storm out of the office and trip on the carpet, almost falling to the ground. “It’s my baby!”

“It’s mine also unless you have another boyfriend!!”

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

You’ve been gone for the last hour; it’s a big place yet it shouldn’t be so difficult to find one’s partner.

The Joker dials your number and inquires as soon as you blow your nose on the other side of the line.

“Is this The Preposterous Princess?”

Dead air again; Y/N isn’t in the mood to speak to the man she can’t forgive for his transgression. In addition to him disregarding her intention of keeping the offspring, he made her feel dumb and that’s unforgivable.

“Y/N, where are you?!” J descends the steps leading to the basement, the last area he didn’t searched for his missing woman. He opens the boiler room, nothing. The pantry reveals zero clues either. The janitorial supplies closet is a different story; a box of sponges flies by his ear, immediately accompanied by a hateful tone:

“Go away!”

“You almost broke my nose,” he over exaggerates. “What are you doing here anyway? I’ve been looking all over the house!” “I’m hiding baby from you,” you clearly enunciate without stammering.

“Give me a break,” he drops on his knees in front of you. “I don’t want you to kick the bucket, why is that a bad thing?”

“I want baby!”

“Stubborn mule, you sound like a scratched CD that skips and skips and skips,” he barks at your persistence.

“Hm?” you crinkle your nose.

“Scratched CD!” he brings his face close to yours, pleased an opportunity for his plan has arisen. “First of all, if you want to keep the kid you have to promise not to die; second, I have no desire to become a father and third of all pick a card!” he shoves them in your fingers, perfectly aware that if you can’t process all the stuff he’s yapping at an amazing speed, you’ll get distracted and forget you’re mad at him; including one of your favorite games to the equation should seal the outcome.

“Hm?”

“Chop, chop, pick a card Pumpkin!”

You suspiciously pluck your item and then shove it back in the bundle.

The Joker steals a kiss while figuring out your card and you protest:

“I don’t… I don’t want your four kisses!”

“That’s too bad, I do come with four kisses, it’s a bundle deal!” J dismisses your logic connected to this morning’s algebra lesson. “Is this your card?” he shows you the Jester card and your mouth opens in amazement.

“A-ha!”

He fights with himself if he should disclose the secret: you don’t seem totally diverted and his plot could misfire due to inaction.

It’s not worth it.

“Do you know how I select the correct card?”

“No.”

“Each single time Pumpkin you invariably pick The Joker card.”

You sulk at the revelation since it’s true: you don’t recall sorting another card from the deck.

“I do… I always choose you…”

He doesn’t have a response and the chat is taking a strange turn, not precisely what he was aiming for.

“Yeah, well… good for you, Princess…” he stands and offers his hand to help you up.

Another smooch as bonus for his assistance whilst The Queen pouts at his impertinence: he has such a nerve!

Perhaps because he comes with four kisses.

It’s a bundle deal.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[calypsoff]

Nineteen. Part 3

Mel has been passing off glares to me every so often and then goes back to reading her phone, she loves me but hates me at the same time, I think it’s more love than anything “so” here she goes again “I am listening” clasping my hands together “we need to leave for the flight that leaves at eleven, meanwhile you’re hooked up to a IV line when we didn’t even come for that in the first place, you know what. I am glad we came but I am just feeling a lot of mixed emotions. I know you; I saw you, I watched you” putting my hand up, I don’t want to hear it “then who’s fault is it? You’re dehydrated, your sugars are low. All you kept doing is sleep, food was a no. I am not shocked” licking my top lip looking down “I am not going to say anything else, but we do need to go before people start wondering, Noella text me saying did I kidnap you. I think your man is on a warpath and woke poor Noella up” staring at my hands, I am feeling very numb to a lot of things right now. I have had the doctor poke and prod me to find out what is happening, blood tests and now I am waiting. The first blood test didn’t come out well enough, it just showed really that my sugars were low, so they hooked me onto this thing and took another set of blood, so I am waiting for the results “how do you feel? Inside right now, you know your own body” looking up from my hands and at Mel, shaking my head feeling my tears forming “the doctor said you can bleed?” Mel is right I know my own body and I just know “you didn’t see what I saw, it was abnormal. First of my period was late, I should have acted from that moment, but I didn’t because my schedule clashed at the same time, I was so busy, you can judge me all you want but me, I was in pain and I still stood there and performed” I did what I had to do and neglected myself “and cried” she added, taking in a sharp breath. I am not going to cry, a knock at the door “it’s just me” my doctor walked in.

He held the folder up “we have results finally, I must add Miss Fenty. You need a good rest, I suggest for you to stay here for a day” watching him sit down “I have a performance today in California, I have to go” I said in whisper, he looked at me in such sadness and I kind of knew. It’s not good news, the sadness in his eyes “I would suggest cancel, I can only suggest but you need to rest, and I think it will be good for you to cancel too, for your own mental health” I don’t need his advice, I can’t just cancel “so I have the results with me, so in your blood we found a high level of HCG which that indicates a baby, HCG is made earlier in the pregnancy to form the placenta” he looked down at his papers “then we did the vaginal ultrasound so we can get a clear picture of what is happening” a tear fell “there is no baby right?” the doctor swallowed hard “we need to give it forty eight hours and so another blood test, the HCG levels will have lowered by then. I am sorry Miss Fenty, from your description of the bleeding and what you saw, it was in the first trimester” I swallowed back the sob “this was my fault, I get it. So I am going through a miscarriage?” I refuse to cry, I am not going to do it “yes, the tissue will pass out naturally. The pain you are feeling is from the miscarriage” a sob left my lips, but I am not going to do it “thank you” I managed to say “I will give you some time, I will be back” nodding my head.

Mel held my hand “I am crying for you, why aren’t you crying? Robyn don’t keep it in, I know I was angry about this baby thing because I thought it was wrong, the timing was off but now I am scared as fuck, I was so scared it was this when you were telling me. Oh god, I am so sorry” squeezing onto her hand “I cried already, I cried when I was on that stage. I mourned something I never really knew I had but felt it, I am so stupid” shaking my head “uh, now I can never hear you sing Stay the same, when you was crying I assumed you felt overwhelmed by it all but not that, not this. Oh Robyn, I am so sorry” she needs to stop being so kind, I am stupid “I need to leave this hospital and go back to the hotel, I am going to do the VMAs” Mel stared at me in sadness, everyone is sad for me but me, I am not feeling me right now “are you not going to tell Chris? It’s important” shaking my head “I am not ready to tell Chris, to hear him say stupid things. I am not ready for that, I wasn’t even ready to tell him about if I was, we still need to speak on what happened to us earlier on in the tour, but I go back normal and I am going to tell him that I needed some time away, I wasn’t feeling too good but I am now, I think he is going Texas so yeah” Mel shook her head “you’re dealing with it wrong Robyn but I can’t speak to you like this, closed off” if she knows I am she should just let me be.

Robyn hasn’t come back at all. So I decided to eat breakfast with her family, it’s wack. We all pretty much remained silent because they know I am so pissed; I am angry that she has done that. And apparently nobody knows where she is, to me that makes no sense “are you coming to California with us Chris?” Monica asked me, she is breaking the silence, but I won’t be rude to Monica at all “no, I am going to Texas. I think I miss my bed” I laughed “that is a shame, when is your flight?” Noella questioned “soon, I am just seeing when the girl I am dating is coming back. I am not happy you see, like if I went missing I know how angry Robyn would be. It’s not on, I am defeated, and I rather just go. It’s like she is doing it on purpose, we are due for an argument” Rorrey sighed out on my behalf “hey family” oh she is back, she is back now. I am even more angry; I turned my head in annoyance “are we all ok?” I can’t even deal “Robyn Fenty, where have you been? We have been concerned!?” Monica shouted at her “mommy I need some room to breathe, I am ok. I am back now” rubbing my chin feeling my blood boil, how can she just smoothly come back like nothing happened, like nothing occurred “uh Chris” I stifled out a yawn looking over at her “can I talk to you” getting up from the seat “I hope you both don’t argue” Monica said, walking by Robyn in a huff. She is all happy thinking it’s all good and well.

Mel continues to just be here, like I don’t get why Mel is stuck to her hip “what you think I am going to do? Why is she here?” I pointed at Mel “pipe down, I am going to the room” Mel walked by me “be nice to my friend” sitting down in a huff, be nice to her “I am sorry, I went missing” I am actually very angry “sorry for going missing! I was worried sick about you Robyn; I was thinking all sorts of things. I was thinking what is happening, what has gone wrong with you. Why, I thought something bad happened but then realised you just played in my face, you just kept making me go and went running with Mel. You’re treating me stupid; you and your family are. They know something, they know what you are doing but not telling, tell me what the fuck was you doing!? If that was me you would be making sure you caused fucking hell so don’t give me that” I am pissed, I can’t even care to hear what she has to say but I guess I have no choice “I am sorry Chris, I swear I am. I had to just have some time to me, I felt not me so I am sorry. I should have said it, but I didn’t want you to crowd around me” I sniggered “right, we ain’t going to work. I don’t see it, you have yet to apologise for how shit of a person you have been to me! You have been so shit to me, treated me like shit. I don’t care what anyone says, there is always time to text, I don’t think you care for me like you say, you really are a terrible person” glaring at her, she thinks she has been a good person and has been hard done by but she hasn’t.

“You literally shouted at me on the plane because of your mistake! Your mistake, you left me there and then you shout at me. You been nothing but an ass to me, I ain’t with you for your status and I certainly won’t kiss your ass Rihanna. Go to the club Chris I will meet you there, you think I am stupid. You and Mel, you didn’t want me to crowd around you? I am the same nigga that wouldn’t have come to the tour, I did it for you. While you were crawling up those stairs backstage it was me carrying you, I am not your fucking clown” getting up from the couch “hurry up, what you got to say? I am going? Unless we are having sex, I am gone” Robyn shook her head “no we won’t be having sex and I am damn well sure won’t be wanting it, I can only apologise” is she real “is that it?” I questioned, that can’t be it. She went missing and she is giving me nothing “I am sorry” she said it again “save it!” I shouted “just save it, I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be in this sick game you’re playing Rihanna. I am going back to Texas, I think you and I need to just stop this before we end up not being friends, I rather not ruin that. Whatever we have left of it” if she doesn’t start speaking then I am out, I want her to tell me where she went. It seems so fucking weird to me; she could be cheating for all I know. Robyn is staring at me like I am dumb “I am going to leave this room, once I leave then I am going to take it as we’re over?” it’s like I am speaking to somebody that is not with me “I have been a terrible person to you Chris so I get it” she is unbelievable “take care Robyn” I can’t take this shit, like this up and down shit. I want her to say something more productive, better yet fight for me.

I was of course going to brush my teeth and stuff before leaving, I just don’t get Robyn at all. Pulling at my suitcase to the lobby “you don’t have to break up with her, just give her time” who is Mel, she doesn’t know shit “you are for Robyn, of course you’re going to say that. I am not leaving her; she is letting me go. Difference there, I am not having Rihanna have me on strings like a puppet. I am not that kind of dude and she knows that. You know something, of course you do but you ain’t speaking so fuck it” these two are up to no good shit and it’s annoying “all I am saying is give her time” pulling at my suitcase leaving, Robyn had the fucking chance to come to me and stop me. To actually tell me what the fuck she doing, staring at Robyn sat down “I am sorry” that is all she says “so am I” I can’t do this shit, she has been treating me like dirt and then thinks I will allow her to get away with it. She can be Rihanna happily on her own.

[danetobelieve]

One Shell Of A Dinner Party, pt. 3 || Skylar, Ricky and Winston

Skylar held the karkinoid steady as Winston was able to ignite the lobster monster in flames, but watched as the deoderant can sputtered and went out. The crab at the end of her poker stopped twitching and for a moment, she relaxed. But, the brief respite was interrupted by Ricky’s cries for help as he tried to fight off the monster that was attacking him. She watched as there was a flash of white teeth-- no, fangs-- as Ricky bit into the lobster with ease. What the fuck. Those were fangs. Fangs. Like hers. What the fuck? Before she could react, she jolted backwards out of the way of a new torrent of flame, emerging from the end of the zippo lighter. The karkinoids were dead, all of them were dead. And Skylar was left staring at the two roommates. “What. The fuck. Was that?” She breathed, shoulders shaking.

Ricky spit shell fragments from between his teeth, listening as they hit the ground and landed amid piles of guts he just knew he was going to have to rent a power washer to properly clean. “In order… of de-fucking-scending importance.” He grunted out as he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled across the deck to his half-conscious roommate, “You…” He looped Winston’s arm over his shoulder, struggling to lift them to their feet as the wound in his side pulsed and throbbed, “Are apparently a fucking mage, and we need to talk about why you didn’t tell me.” He started to drag them slowly toward the door, “You…” He had no free hands to point, but was certain his eyes were going to do the trick as he stared at Skylar, “Are about to be privy to several secrets that could get people killed if you talk. And I…. well I’m just bleeding through my third favorite flannel and onto my second favorite pair of jeans. So we are going to go inside, I’m going to disinfect this with copious amounts of isopropyl alcohol, I’m going to stitch it closed, and we’re all going to have a nice talk. Sound good?”

Feeling faint, Winston in a disorientated haze felt someone scoop them up. They recognised the sound of Ricky’s voice. They were saying something about them fucking a mage? But they never played Bards in D&D. They were the one class that they never really got the hang of. They always felt their characters fell flat. “What … about the … crabs?” Their eyes slid shut after that and a few moments later and they were being carried into the house. They could hear the crunch of Ricky’s shoes cracking glass fragments into even smaller pieces. They felt themselves get laid down on the sofa and slowly their body seemed to restart. “Fuck,” they muttered, their mouth feeling dry. “What the hell happened?” 

Hurrying ahead of Ricky, Skylar opened the door to the house and let the two of them hobble inside. Now that she was coming down from the adrenaline high of everything that had happened, her hands were shaking at her side. “The crabs are dead, you got ‘em.” Skylar said with a trembling smile as she followed the two of them into the living room. “I’ll get… I’ll get the rubbing alcohol. Stay put.” Skylar said as she hurried away towards the bathroom. That was where they’d keep isopropyl alcohol, right? She did her best not to dwell on everything she’d just seen, but her mind kept going back to the fangs she’d seen, the fire that had grown. “Mage. They’re a mage. And Ricky…” Skylar stared at herself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. “He’s like me?” Shaking her head, she found the bottle of alcohol and returned to the others. “Here you go. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Under the sink! Grab the whole kit, I’mma need it” Ricky shuffled out of his shirt and examined the wound in his side with no small amount of disappointment, “This… is gonna be one ugly scar. Least it missed the tattoo.” Hearing Winston mutter from the couch he rounded on him, clamping his shirt to his side so he didn’t spill anymore blood, “MAGIC?! And you had the gall to be uppity about me?!” Skylar returned with the first aid kit and he flicked it open, unscrewing the bottle of alcohol with his teeth and gingerly pouring it over the wound, “Ahhhhhh fuck that burns. Oof. Uh…. I’m fine. I can fix myself. But I dunno about Johnny Flame over there.”

Stumbling to their feet, Winston moved slowly and painfully through the ruined room and into their kitchen which had been mostly undamaged. Pulling open their cupboards, they searched in silence for a moment until they found some oreos and began devouring them in an attempt to raise their blood sugar. This wasn’t the first time that something weird had happened and they had felt exhausted and they were getting better at feeding themselves. “Listen,” Winston finally croaked seven oreos later, “I didn’t know that I was … well we don’t know what I am, not for sure yet. You said yourself that you didn’t know everything.” They had had their own suspicions. But the fact of the matter was that they weren’t exactly in control of this. Not in the slightest.

Skylar settled down on the arm of the couch, watching as Ricky poured the rubbing alcohol over his wounds with a grimace. But, what she was most focused on were his teeth. The sharp fangs that looked so similar to her own. She glanced over to where Winston had crammed oreos into their mouth and hurried over to get them a glass of milk. It was the least she could do. “Here. Milk and cookies, just what every wizard friend needs?” She joked weakly before heading for the first aid kit she’d brought over. Glancing over at Ricky, she handed him a few packages of gauze and a roll of medical tape. “Do you think this will be enough?” The two of them looked miserable, it was the least she could do after their home had been trashed and they’d been attacked by… lobster monsters. 

Watching Winston Oreo themself back to semi-consciousness again, Ricky grunted an assent as he continued to clean his wound. “You’re right. I don’t know everything. But I know magic when it almost burns the porch down.” Heaving a deep sigh he gritted his teeth and looked down at the needle and suture thread in the first aid kit. He’d taken some field dressing classes after an accidental run in with a mermaid a couple of years previously, but it didn’t mean he had to like the process of giving himself stitches. Even if it only looked like he’d need four or so. “I think I know someone who can help. I won’t out you. But I’ll ask about resources.” The last syllable ground out into a sibilant hiss as he pushed the needle through, “fuck me with a chainsaw that never feels great. Did you get my teeth from the porch?” At this point the seal was very much out of the bed, and he wrangled the bottom set of veneers out of his mouth with his tongue and spat them onto the couch. “Sky. You hurt?”

Gratefully accepting the glass of milk from Skylar, Winston shot them a grateful smile. “Thanks, not sure what we would’ve done if we hadn’t invited you over for dinner,” the good news was that they were pretty certain that Skylar now knew what Ricky was, whether this was enough to get them to talk about it and start learning more about themselves was another matter entirely. But right now, Winston’s limbs felt like lead, their energy levels were rock bottom and they were sure that they could sleep for a few years if needed. “I didn’t almost burn down the porch and we have no proof that wasn’t a spontaneous natural phenomena that we’ve yet to explain,” they paused for a second and stared at their feet, “maybe you can find someone who can help me, but maybe I’m also not interested in exploring this discovery more, after all you saw what I nearly did to the porch, so why would I want to fuck around with this shit more?” They stared at their shoes for a second. “I’ve got your teeth, yeah,” they fished into their pocket and tossed the veneers onto the couch next to their friend, “those look almost similar to ones I’ve seen before,” they said pointedly, looking Skylar dead in the eyes through their glasses.

Waving her hand, Skylar shook her head. “I’m fine, they didn’t get me. And you don’t need to thank me, I didn’t do much. Just threw a bunch of fish out the window, really.” She said as she did her best not to stare as Ricky began to sew himself up. But, that went out the window when he spat out a set of veneers that looked… shockingly like hers. She could only gape with wide eyes. She could barely process Winston’s words, the less than subtle nod at her own false teeth. Covering her mouth with her hand, she stared from the two of them. “So… So, you’re a freaking fire wizard. And you’re a-- what are you?” She asked, heartbeat pounding in her ears. 

Tying the first stitch off with a hiss, Ricky gave himself time to breathe, pressing his shirt to the wound as he glared at Winston, “Oh can it, Herbert Hypocrite. Did we not just spend a whole meal telling Skylar over here that knowing more is always better than knowing less? Natural fucking phenomenon my ass. I’m not human, Win. I can guess at magic when I see it.” He grit his teeth and started the second stitch, sighing and looking at Skylar. “I’m a shape shifter. A selkie. I’m a seal who can walk as a human. Is the real short version of it. The slightly longer version of it is there are people who hunt creatures like me. So I keep it hella on the DL.” His muscles contracted at the strange dragging pain of the suture going through his skin and he could feel sweat breaking out across his forehead. “You know. At least this time I’m not giving myself stitches on a lonely beach. Upgrade!”

Winston moved to Ricky’s side where they were stitching themselves back up. “Do you want me to do that?” they asked without really thinking it through, honestly they kind of hoped that Ricky would say no because they weren’t sure that they actually could without throwing up. “That’s a good one Ricky, Herbert the Hypocrite was actually my name in another life. But the truth of the matter is that if I had known that this was actually a thing and had a name then I would have talked to someone, but these things have just been happening whenever things go haywire and I’m kind of stuck there afterwards completely exhausted and wondering what the fuck went on.” At least the secret was out. Ricky was talking to Skylar about what they were and Winston truly hoped that they would be able to come to terms that they were also a Selkie. 

Through all the insanity of the evening-- finding out that magic was real, being attacked by evil lobsters, watching Winston go all firebender on them-- Skylar thought she’d done a pretty good job of keeping things locked down. That she was, you know, handling it all. But, the more she listened to Ricky, the more the reality of her situation began to hammer into her brain. He was… a shapeshifter? A seal? A, a selkie? That couldn’t be possible, that wasn’t real, she couldn’t be one of those. She let Winston talk their way through everything, still staring at Ricky in shock. This couldn’t be real. But, in the back of her mind, she could see the soft pelt in her apartment, tucked under her mattress and hidden away. The weird pelt she’d been wrapped in as a baby… she’d never figured out exactly what kind of skin it was, but a seal? Was it a seal skin? Was she--? “Trust me, I’m also wondering what the fuck is going on too. We’re… in the same boat there.” She said to Winston before looking over at Ricky. “How… how did you know you were a selkie?” Skylar asked, voice shaking.

Ricky waved away Winston’s offer of help. “You need to sit down and get your strength back. I’m not the biggest fan of being touched when I’m bleeding out. Besides. If I paid all that money for those classes and then don’t stitch myself up it’s a waste.” He tied off the second stitch with the ghost of a whimper before starting on the third. “I’ll put some feelers out to people I know in the “not normal” community. See what I can come up with for you.” He turned to look at Skylar somewhat curiously. It wasn’t the normal line of questioning he got. “I was born a seal. I didn’t first shed my skin and become human til I was already two years old. I was born to a selkie and a human. My mom was from a clan of selkies. It was a bit of a scandal when she married a human. I’ve got fangs even in my human form, I can’t hear for shit, I’m color blind except underwater, and I have to transform every couple of weeks or I’ll die a, from what I’m told, incredibly painful death.” 

Winston wasn’t exactly sure that they were in a position to complain about Ricky not wanting someone else inexperienced to stitch them up, let alone actually do it. “That … is a fair point,” they fell silent once again, “I’m not sure that is exactly the way that value money exchange works but go off.” They sighed gently and tried to regain some of their strengths. Their bones ached and their muscles ached slightly less from the sugar boost in the oreos. But they knew that the real cure to this was sleep. Caffeine and sugar could only ever do so much. They listened carefully to what Ricky had to say for themselves. They hoped that Skylar could put the dots together. But this must be all very scary. Winston themselves was feeling overwhelmed with their current state. Were they really capable of magic? It seemed ridiculous to consider it. They’d been smarter then most for a while sure, but they weren’t special. They were just normal. 

As Ricky rattled off the various traits of what made him… a selkie, it felt as though Skylar’s entire world was collapsing in on itself. Everything she’d struggled through as a child, every weird look and bullying word sent in her direction, every time she’d wondered if she was just always going to be that… sad, pathetic girl. It was all coming together in one horrifying, startling picture of truth. “Oh my god.” Blinking rapidly, Skylar immediately stood up, her back ramrod straight. “I… I need to go. I can’t be here right now. I have to leave and I need…” She looked around the room, eyes wide and panicked. “I need to go home.” She said, her fingers reaching into her jacket pocket to curl around her car keys.

Skylar’s incredibly rapid rise from the couch had the unintended consequence of making Ricky jump, which in turn sent the needle in his hand deeper into his flesh than he was planning “Oh jesus fucking christ” he gasped out, doubling over on the couch, “Oh god that one stung. That one…. That one was a doozy.” He flapped a hand in Skylar’s direction as she made moves toward the door “I really don’t think you should! We’re not terribly close to the main road, chances of you running into those things on your drive out of here are pretty high, and it’s gonna be safer if you wait until light.” He slowly withdrew the needle and started the third stitch where he’d meant for it to be, “You should stay.” 

If they were faced with the situation in which Skylar was now faced, Winston couldn’t say with all honesty that they would want to remain in this place. Especially with the fact that they looked like maybe they were coming to terms with a lot more then they had before. Winston hoped that this wasn’t all too much. They’d just planned for this to be a nice dinner where they got to know them but instead they’d found out that they were truly a magician and Skylar had found out that there were other Selkies in the world. “I know you don’t want to be here, and if you want to be alone there’s a spare room and if you insist on going home we won’t stop you, but Ricky’s right. It’s dangerous out there right now.”

Jumping in surprise at Ricky’s outburst of pain, Skylar shook her head. She had to get out of here, she had to leave. She didn’t want to be here right now. And as the two tried to convince her, all she could think of was the pelt in her bedroom and how she needed it. How she needed to make sure it was safe. How she had to figure out if what Ricky told her was true. Taking in a deep breath, she screwed up her courage. Fuck it. Reaching into her mouth, she removed the veneers from her teeth and bared the long fangs that she’d spent so many years of her life hiding. “I’m going home. Right. Now.” She said before storming out of the house, the door slamming shut behind her.

Several things happened in quick succession. Ricky tied off the third stitch, listened to Winston lay out some solid logic, and looked up to see Skylar revealing fangs that were only slightly less perfect than his were. In her defense, however, he’d always been a stickler for oral hygiene. Many puzzle pieces clicked into place all at once. The hearing aids. The fishing. The sense of connection he irrationally felt and he couldn’t help but turn to his roommate as he tried to stop more blood from getting on his couch with a hint of recrimination in his voice, “you fucking knew, didn’t you.” One hand slowly managed to drag his phone out of his pocket and painfully type out a text as he used the other to cover his wound. When you’re ready to find out more about what you are… we’re here for you. In the end, that was all he could do. 

Sighing guiltily, Winston shrugged and fixed Ricky with a stare. “I couldn’t tell you about her because she didn’t want everyone to know, and I couldn’t tell her about you because you’re worried, justifiably sure, but still…” Winston couldn’t help but feel somewhat concerned by everything that had gone on here. They had to clean up their house, make sure that Dee hadn’t gotten hurt, work out what the hell was going on with themselves and then they had to make sure that Skylar wasn’t hurt or upset or anything too untoward.

[groundzerobakugo]

maniacal // k. bakugou; vampire

  gender in this imagine will be female. if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

...

 after gaining your independence, your first idea was to move away from the big city your family lived, preferring a smaller, more rural area to reside. but, what you hadn’t expected were the strange whispers of after dark. you didn’t really know what to make of it. you were used to big city life, where businesses stayed open late and buses still ran well into the evening. and compared to your new residence, you actually missed it.

  no one ever left their homes after the sun went down; it may as well have been a law. rumours held stories of ravenous and savage beasts that would hunt down anyone they found, of insatiable and uncontrollable fiends that would rip someone to pieces under the cover of darkness. at least, that was what you’d been told.

  the makeshift law hadn’t stopped you, though.

  the full moon was high in the sky, illuminating the streets as you took your time getting back to your apartment. there was a bitter chill to the air with the fall weather coming in, and you wished you’d brought along a spare coat; though, the sweater you wore did provide some warmth, so you couldn’t complain too much.

  you bopped your head to the music coming from your headphones. you weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings--after all, no one left their house at night, there wasn’t anyone to bump into or a car to fear getting hit by. it was peaceful, in your mind, as though time didn’t exist, and you were just wandering around a ghost town with no place to be or people to see. after dark, the town was yours.

  but, despite the peacefulness you felt, there was an eerie chill in the air, as though eyes were following your every move.

  perhaps it was the rumours from the locals of things lurking around at night that could kill you in the blink of an eye. after all, everyone did think you were crazy for going out at night, and they constantly scolded you for stepping foot outside after dark. 

  you cast a glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing but the empty sidewalk, and grumbled to yourself. damn the locals for making you paranoid. you looked forward once again but stopped abruptly upon seeing a figure in front of you.

  “what’s a cute little snack like you doing wandering around this late?” their voice was smooth as velvet, and you looked up at their face. inhuman, golden eyes peered down at you, her lips quirked into a smirk, and an eyebrow cocked.

  “i’m just on my way home, enjoying the breeze,” you replied, taking out an earbud.

  she tilted her head to the side. “you’re human?”

  “and you’re not?” you snorted. “look, if you’re just trying to scare the foreigner, good luck, sugar. i’ve heard the stories, but i think they’re a pile of bullshit.”

  “oh?” she grinned. “you’re pretty brave, huh? what’s your name?”

  “what’s it to you?” you glared.

  “just curious.” she shrugged.

  you eyed the girl for a moment. she didn’t look like much of a threat, dressed in a high school uniform and all. “it’s (name).”

  “(name)-chan,” she hummed. “i love it! and hey, you’re pretty cute, too. i wonder....”

  an odd feeling ran through your body; unease and sudden anxiety making you take an unconscious step back. “wonder what?” you asked, voice wavering.

  she looked at you with a unsettling gleam in her eyes, lips twisted into a grin. “how you’d look covered in blood.”

  “wh-what?” you asked with an unsure laugh. “you’re still trying to scare me?”

  in an instant, the blonde stood nose to nose with you, and you could smell some weird combination of something floral and... metallic? she took a deep whiff, eyes fluttering closed as she sighed. “you don’t have to play tough, i can smell the fear on you, and it smells so good.”

  she shoved you against the wall, and you felt your heart drop in your chest. was this really happening? were the locals actually telling the truth? it wasn’t just some stupid rumour?

  before you could move, you felt sharp fangs pierce your neck, and you let out a howl of pain, her nails creating crescent shaped wounds into your shoulder. it was such an odd and unpleasant feeling, being able to feel the blood leave your body. your fingertips and toes began to feel tingly when she let go.

  “awh, you look even cuter now!” she grinned with a reddened smile.

  you struggled to stand through the haze, attempting to brace yourself amongst the wall. your palms scraped against the rough brick, and you could feel your shirt become wet and clingy to your shoulder, spreading downward with each drop of blood that gushed out.

  the girl licked her lips. “maybe i should keep you, you taste absolutely delicious.”

  “like hell you fucking will,” a new voice growled.

  you squinted, trying to make out a second figure, but everything was growing blurry. you could see vague shapes and indistinguishable sounds of grunts and growls, as though you were thrust underwater. it felt like you were almost drowning, even it was getting harder and harder to breath, harder and harder to stay on your feet, harder and harder to keep focus.

  but then everything fell silent, only the sounds of heavy breathing echoing through the breeze.

  “hos-hospital,” you mumbled. “i... i need to-to go... to the-the hospital....”

  something warm touched your cheek, and your eyes fluttered open for a moment, locking with ruby red irises. “ain’t no hospital around that’s fucking open. where do you live?”

  “hospital...,” you repeated, eyes closing once again. “need... need to....”

  “oi, don’t you dare fucking pass out on me,” the voice said.

  but you felt your conscious slipping away, and everything fell into darkness.

...

  “has there been any change with the human?” someone asked. “i mean, it’s been a couple days.”

  a grunt. “not yet.”

  “should we really be keeping her here?” the former voice again. “i mean, it was you who made the rule not to--”

  “i know what the fuck i said, shitty hair, but i couldn’t just leave her to fucking bleed out on the street, could i?”

  there was silence for a moment. “no, i suppose not. has her wound healed up?”

  “not completely,” they replied. “but--”

  the two froze upon hearing a small groan from your lips. your form moved on the bed, and both took a hesitant step forward.

  “is she waking up?”

  “looks like it.”

  “i think she’s waking up.”

  “yeah.”

  “she’s wak--”

  “i fucking got it, shitty hair! now get the hell out!”

  “right!”

  your head was pounding as you came to, body feeling heavy and sore as though you hadn’t moved in years. you blinked, eyes hazy as they adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. you struggled to sit up, a sharp throb coming from the junction of your neck and shoulder causing you to hiss in pain and clench your jaw.

  “lay back down.” a voice ordered.

  you jumped out the sound, twisting sharply to meet a ruby red gaze. instantly, you regretted the movement, “fuck.” you caught your breath for a moment, taking a glance at the person beside you. he was pretty attractive, you couldn’t lie, with wild blond hair, broad shoulders, and a sharp jaw. but what threw you off was the color of his eyes. inhuman and abnormal. “who are you? where am i? what happened to me? why am i here?”

  “don’t ask so many fucking questions, and fucking listen to me, dipshit. you’ll reopen that stupid bite.” he growled. “now, lay back down, or my damn hard work will be all for shit.”

  “kiss your mother with that mouth?” you grumbled as you laid back down. “now, answer my questions.”

  he quirked a brow, eyes narrowing. “you’re safe in my apartment. you were attacked by a vampire, and i fucking saved your ass so you better be damn grateful.”

  “what the fuck do you mean a vampire?! a vampire fucking bit me? what planet are you from?”

  and within the blink of an eye, the man was right in front of you, teeth bared and eyes wild. “i mean a goddamn, shit sucking vampire, dipshit. that blonde bitch was fucking hunting in my damn territory, and i don’t fucking go for that shit, got it?! she would have made you a shitty blood slave, or she would have killed you if i didn’t get there in time!”

  your eyes were wide with fear, mouth agape as you struggled to form words. your hands clenched the sheets beneath them, and you could feel your heart beat rapidly with fear. images, flashes, passing through your mind, memories of a blonde high school girl attacking you. a small whimper escaped your lips, and you subconsciously moved away.

  “i wanna go home,” you whimpered. “take me home.”

  but the blond didn’t respond. he only backed away and left the room, leaving you with teary eyes and a fearful heart.

...

  you couldn’t fall asleep easily after waking up the first time. it was as though every time you closed your eyes, you would see her. you would see himiko toga hunting you down. no matter how much you wanted to sleep, you couldn’t as the memories passed by. your neck ached with each moment you spent awake, but you couldn’t afford to succumb to nightmares.

  it wasn’t for another few hours that your door opened again. but this time, it wasn’t a blond. it was a redhead.

  “o-oh, you’re... you’re awake?”

  you only stared at him.

  “sorry, i was just going to leave some food for you,” he replied, setting down a tray of soup and a bottle of water. “i’ll let you eat in peace--”

  “wait,” you called, and he paused in his tracks. “please, don’t leave me alone.”

  his brows raised. “uh, ye-yeah. sure.” he sat down awkwardly on the side of the bed, eyes cast off to the wall in front of him.

  “what’s your name?” you asked.

  “me? i’m kirishima, kirishima eijirou,” he said. “you?”

  “(name),” you replied. 

  “you’re not from here, are you?”

  “nuh uh. i moved about a month back,” you said, poking around at the soup.

  “it’s not much, but bakugou says there’s a lot of nutrients in there humans need,” kirishima said, seeing you stare at the soup in disinterest.

  you looked over at him. “bakugou?”

  “the angry blond guy,” he laughed. “he’s really rough around the edges, but he doesn’t hurt humans. none of us do in this territory.”

  “so you’re a... vampire?” you asked.

  “not exactly,” he replied. “more of a dhampir. half human, half vampire. basically, i get all the cool stuff without needing blood.”

  “oh,” you murmured. “bakugou, he... he’s not gonna...?”

  kirishima gave you a small smile. “he won’t hurt you. like i said, we don’t hunt humans in this territory. it’s inhumane, especially with blood packs and even donors around, but outside the territory, other vampires still prefer the old ways.”

  “right,” you replied. you blinked tiredly, trying a spoonful of the soup.

  “bakugou said you’ll need to eat all of it, that way you get better quicker. eat and then rest,” the redhead said. “but... well, you should have been sleeping when i came in. it’s nighttime, after all.”

  you dropped your spoon back in the bowl, the soup tasting sour in your mouth. “i... i can’t.”

  his brows furrowed. “can’t what?”

  “i can’t sleep,” you mumbled.

  “oh? why not?”

  “nightmares.”

  “oh.”

  “i-i can’t close my eyes without... without seeing her there,” you said, tears threatening to fall. “i thought it was fake. i thought it was some stupid prank that everyone was so stupid they fell for it.” you laughed, a hollow sound bouncing off the walls.

  you jumped as you felt a hand touch your shoulder. “i’m sorry, (name). if you want, i can get you some sleeping pills. it might help a little bit.”

  “really?” you asked, looking over at kirishima.

  “of course,” he smiled. “but, you have to eat your soup first.”

  “okay,” you replied, the faintest of smiles tugging at your lips.

...

  twenty minutes after kirishima had left the room, there was a slight knock at the door before it creaked open. “you better be fucking decent.” the blond, bakugou, walked into the room holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

  “wh-where’s kirishima?” you asked, a bit fearful to be in the same room as bakugou.

  “he’s on an errand,” he responded plainly.

  you looked down at your hands. “oh.”

  the blond rolled his eyes and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “here. take two. shitty hair says you’ve been having nightmares.”

  “thanks,” you muttered, taking the medication from his hand. “what is it?”

  “a fucking ancient vampire sleeping draught,” he said.

  your eyes widened. “re-really?”

  “no, dumbass. vampires don’t even fucking sleep,” the blond scoffed. “now take the stupid pills and drink the damn water so i can leave.”

  you scowled. “fine. but...,” your face softened, cheeks turning a light pink. “but, please don’t leave.”

  his brow raised, “hah?”

  “don’t go,” you mumbled.

  bakugou hesitated for a moment. he could smell the fear on you, so why were you even asking him to stay? as if it would change anything?

  “please.”

  “fine.”

  you smiled at the blond and then swallowed the pills, following after with the glass of water he’d given you. “how long until they kick in?”

  “maybe five minutes?” he guessed.

  “oh.”

  silence passed between the two of you for a few minutes, and you could feel the pills slowly start to work as your mind grew hazy. bakugou stayed seated on the edge of the bed, occasionally shifting his gaze your way to check if you were still awake. something about being alone with bakugou was much different than being alone with the blond.

  you looked over at him. “why don’t you hunt humans?”

  he glanced at you. “what kind of a damn question is that? it’s fucking barbaric and stupid. that good enough of an answer for you?”

  you hummed. “i-i think. so, you’re not going to kill me?”

  “are you stupid or something?”

  “why’re you so mean?” you whined, body feeling heavy as you leaned his way. “i... i’m not... stupid.”

  “oi. oi. oi!” the blond froze as you passed out on his shoulder, not sure if he should move you or not. he growled low under his breath in annoyance. “god dammit.”

  slowly, he shifted to lay you down, but you’d latched onto his arm, pulling him down with you as you curled up against him. his cheeks blossomed into a cherry red, heart skipping a subtle beat. now what the fuck was he supposed to do? lay there without moving until you wake up?

  a cool blast of air from the fan sent a whiff of your scent his way, and he flinched. your wound was still healing, the smell of your blood still prominent through the bandages.

  would he even survive the night?

...

to be continued if requested

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #259

"i went straight to heaven, but i kept on knockin’.”

What's something that makes you feel more creative? Music. What are the last three nail polish colors you wore? Wow, idk the last time I wore nail polish, but probably black or maroon. What's the last thing you binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. Do you watch youtube videos or tv shows more? YouTube is essentially my TV. Quite literally - I don't have a television in my room because I never watch it. What's a DIY project that you don't think actually works? Oh dude, plenty. I have DIY-obsessed friends online as well as a Pinterest, I know this shit, lmao. I can name one though with total certainty because I was with a friend when she tried that disgusting "YOU CAN MAKE cuPCAkES IN A C uP!!!!!" crap. It's the most eggy shit you'll ever try. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I think those crafts are generally super cute. Have you ever gotten rid of something and then regretted it? If so, what? (or what's one thing?) Oh yeah, one of my biggest being my senior prom pictures, but not for the reason you'd expect (save for two pictures of us that're just REALLY fuckin cute): I want them back because goddamn I was pretty ok and I miss that now that I hate my body every waking moment of every day. :^) What color is the zip-up hoodie you wear the most? Don't have one w/ a zipper, they're ugly. Do you live in an apartment that has inspections? No. Do you hate taking naps during the day? Nooo I love naps and usually take one a day. I tend to feel really tired all over again a few hours or so after I wake up. Who in your immediate family has the best natural hair? MEEEEEEEEEEEE. Would you ever audition for American Idol? Hell no. Do you know anyone who thinks they're more talented than they are? Lol wow, this is mean. I don't think so. Do you buy gum? Rarely, even though I like it. What's your favorite dollar store?  I don’t have a favorite, I'd say? But I think we normally go to Dollar General. How many cell phones have you had in your lifetime? Maybe like, six? Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? BITCH I WISH!!!!!!!!!!!! I would kill to get married in one, omfGGGGGGGGGGG. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't remember a bad one. I loved going on field trips. The last time you went, what were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? I’ve never been. Which country would you most like to visit? Eeeeek idk, but probably South Africa. What are your favorite types of videos to watch on YouTube? What I watch on YouTube has become pretty diverse, but I know my favorites are easily Mark's actual big projects w/ egos 'n shit alksjdflk;w gOOD SHIT MY FRIENDS. I still love let's plays, of course! Are you a hoarder? No. Is there a guy (or girl) that you wish things had worked out with? Yes. If you were to start a collection, what would it be? I'd loooove Shadow of the Colossus stuff, particularly the amazing figures they used to have only in Japan. And World of Warcraft stuff; all I have rn is an Illidan poster and a fae dragon plushy hanging from my ceiling that Jason got me. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? Mother of god, a lot. #1, make me skinny again for the love of fuck. Which would result in loose skin being taken off and probably a breast lift because being overweight ruined my comfort with them laskdjfw. Whiten my teeth and give me laser hair removal surgery on my legs, please. Are your parents too controlling? Not at all. Who is your favorite fictitious redhead? VOL'JIN Blizzard what the FUCK give him BACK What shows have you seen on Broadway? None. Who is the prettiest Asian YouTuber that you can think of? Bitch Mark is Korean and he's gorgeous as fuck goddamn it ain't fair. But this is a weird question. What is the best news you've heard lately? When my mom got a follow-up blood test, things looked good!! She especially needed to level out her sugar, which she did well on. She also didn't lose or gain any weight, so that's wonderful. Have you ever flown first class? Hunny I am v poor. Have you ever had food SO bad in a restaurant that you sent it back? I don't believe so, anyway. Do you talk in your sleep? Very regularly now. Have you ever locked yourself out of your house? OOF, yes. Are you the type of person who can shake insults off easily, or do they tend to stick around in your brain & bother you? They stick with me for a long, long time. At least two I remember from years upon years ago. Who was the last person you cut out of your life intentionally? My old therapist that I trusted and loved when I fucking shouldn't have. Where were you raised? By who? Eastern NC, by my parents. What were your first words? "Dada." What were some of your favorite things when you were young? DINOSAURS, Webkinz, Pokemon, and Spyro, to name a few. What did you grow up listening to? Mostly country and pop music. What games did you play in the past? Spyro was my obsession, and I also loved hunting games (ironic, as irl I would never even consider it???) as well as fishing ones, plus Crash Bandicoot. What was the best birthday party you ever had? I'm not sure. How about the best vacation? I'm unsure; I haven't really been on a lot. Do you have any secrets you never intend to tell? Yup. What memory would you like to disappear from your mind forever? A nightmare I had about my dad. If you were someone else, would you be friends with the person you are now? Yeah. Do you consider yourself a smart person? No. What friend in your life has been the greatest influence to you? I don't know. Where is the scariest place you’ve ever been? What made it so terrifying? I shared a bedroom with an EXTREMELY volatile, violent woman once in the mental hospital. As in she had to go in solitary when she had a violent episode, during which she became very destructive to her surroundings, so as you could guess, I was worried about my own wellbeing. She was eventually moved because I was that uncomfortable. Did you celebrate Easter? Are there any holidays you are more inclined to celebrate than others? If so, which? Well, Easter hasn't come yet, but we'll probably go to my sister's house for the kids. We'll celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving without fail. We don't pay much attention to others. I'd LOVE to do something for Halloween, we just never have anywhere to go/anything to do. What was the last thing you deleted? Pictures. What colors make up the majority of your wardrobe? Is there any color you like, but don’t wear often? There's black there. Oh, there's s'more black. What's that???? More bLACK????? MAN, I wish I could pull off pink. When was the last time you were in any amount of pain? I had a pretty intense headache yesterday. Who was the last person to hug you? Do you hug this person often? My niece, and yeah, every time I visit. What are you most likely to argue or debate about? The fact I almost never leave my pajamas lmao. What was the last show you watched? Have you seen it before, or is it something you’re watching for the first time? A few days back, I was reeeaaally bored and actually watched TV deliberately, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?????? It was The Witcher; wasn't bad. I'd be willing to watch more. How would you describe your taste in clothing? What would a dream outfit look like to you? uuuuuggggGHHHHHHHH let me be GOTH. Give me a corsette if they weren't notoriously uncomf with plenty of chains 'n stuff. BIG, SPIKY BOOTS. SKINNY LEATHER PANTS. UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH. Have you ever tried snowboarding? No. What’s your favorite planet besides Earth? Saturn is dope. Would you ever be a coach for any sport? Nope. What color of eyes do you have? Blue. Do you like tacos? NOOOOOOOOO. White or red wine? Wine is gross. Do you prefer foxes or wolves? Foxes. What’s the youngest you would consider dating? No younger than 21. Do you think suits are sexy? mmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Did you go to high school with your current best friend? No. What is your boss’ (or school prinicpal’s) name? N/A Were you a fan of Michael Jackson before he died? I was never really a fan. Respected him immensely as a musician, I just didn't care much about his music. Turkey or ham for Thanksgiving? Ham. Turkey is always too dry and stringy. Do you look good in hats? I wouldn't know, I haven't worn one in forever. Never with short hair. Colons or equal signs for your smiley face's eyes? Colons. Do you like architecture? If so, do you have a favourite style or structure that you’d like to make note? Yes, and I should really have an answer for this, as architecture was a big part in Art History... Ummm Etruscan stands out, and of course Roman/Greek (even after the class I don't remember their differences well...). I love Middle Eastern architecture, too. What is one of your favorite words, in any language, and why? I just love the sound of "serendipity," as well as uhhhh "sakura" in Japanese and "kanji" in Chinese. I'm trying to think of a German one, as there certainly are some, but they're evading me right now. Where is the farthest you’ve travelled on foot? JESUS FUCK probably going to get Sara's brother from school, mother of all that is holy. But it might just feel like it because it was during the peak of my muscle atrophy in my legs. Are there any songs that you perhaps like but avoid because it makes you sad when heard? A good number. Do you like the area that you live in? What do you like or dislike about the area? NO. There's not shit to do and it's not aesthetically pleasing at all. Do you have a memory of when you really thought that you have lucked out on something? If so, what was it? Uhhhhh. A handful, I guess? Oh, uh, the suicide attempt to name one and probably the biggest. I took way too many of those pills to experience almost zero symptoms of an overdose; I did look up what "too many" was, because I wanted that. I'd say I was pretty fuckin lucky. If you have apps on your mobile phone, which one do you use the most? Facebook. Which do you like better: fantasy or science fiction novels? Why? FANTASY!!! I think it allows more creativity and possibilities of something magically "making sense" because yeah, it's fantasy. Science fiction has more "realness" to it, more, obviously, scientific elements versus make-believe. Do you like opossums? Do you think it is ethically right for others to keep opossums as pets? OPOSSUMS!!!!!!!!! ARE!!!!!!!!!! FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They're my second-favorite animals kdsja;lkdjaw. BUT ANYWAY, no, unless it's for rescue reasons. When was the last time someone asked you a huge favor or advice? Do you get asked often by this person? Oh I have no idea. Probably my mom? And no, definitely not. She hates asking for help. What are your thoughts on nihilism? I definitely get it, but it's not my personal outlook. Do you like the snow? More like love. What are your thoughts and feelings towards work/jobs in general? I don't know? I've never even had a real, steady job, so it's hard to really answer... I've only had bad experiences. It's kinda weird to me how you have to work your ass off (usually) to get a job you enjoy, as well as slave for some stupid green paper until the day you die just to stay alive and healthy. But at the same time, it offers a sense of fulfilment and is as well something productive and beneficial to the masses to do. Civilization would be very, very different and unadvanced if we were without them, so I guess it is a necessary thing. Humans gotta work together to keep where we're at. Do you believe in astrology? I've never actually elaborated why I don't believe in it so there ya go: not in the slightest. All it does is offer extremely broad characteristics that, in some light, almost anyone can relate to so they feel included in something. We naturally want to "belong" within something as social creatures, and astrology is an easy one with it being so vast. It gives equally indirect advice that can be applied to a multitude of situations, so people just mold what they read to fit their world. Don't base your goddamn life choices on the random positioning of shit in space. What is something that you’ve made/created? Do you take pride in your creations? Well, way way way too many OCs that I do indeed love a hell of a lot. If you have a Tumblr account, do you have any followers that you wish would not follow you? Well I'm sure there are bots. What kind of books do you generally enjoy to read? Fantasy stuff, mostly. But I also love novels with deep meaning, particularly about life in general. A good plot is mandatory. Does the quality of a video, on YouTube or a television, matter to you? I mean of course in some situations, like if I'm watching something educational/something to gain visual knowledge from. What is one situation that may cause you to become shy (if there is any)? Don't don't don't don't don't point out that my serious interests/things I massively love are "weird" like it's been years and I can still barely explain why my biggest tattoo is a tribute to some fuckface on the Internet lmao. When one is depressed, what can a friend do about it? Do you find that there is a good method to approach people in helping them combat depression? It is SO important to, first, ask them what they want. Do they want advice, an ear to just listen, just your presence, to be alone? As for combating depression, that greatly depends on the origin (if any) of theirs. There are so many factors in answering this question, but what I mentioned should, imo, always be the start. Do you tend to listen to music that embraces your mood or does music dictate your mood? Is it a little bit of both? Definitely both. When I'm sad though, I'm almost definitely listening to somber music too. Do you find yourself to be generally a forgiving person? I'm too goddamn forgiving. Do you have an embarrassing memory that you now look back at and can laugh? If so and if you’re comfortable, could you share one here? Omg I have a Bible-length collection of those suckers. I'd prefer not to. What is one skill that you have worked hard to develop? Is there still room for improvement on that skill? Damn, anxiety-coping mechanisms and actually trusting them to help me through attacks. I used to be convinced that they were useless because it just wouldn't work and weren't immediately effective, but you've gooooooot to trust the process, friends. What do you consider to be your main passion(s) and how did they come about? Spreading awareness of the seriousness of mental health and the comfort of knowing there's hope. You can never stop pushing. My own experience with mental health struggles is definitely the deeeep roots of that. Who do you think influenced you the most in your life so far? Why? Jason changed my life in many ways. Trauma does that. He taught me a lot about the necessity of having faith in yourself to survive on your own, a shitload about love and how it's not some fairy tale, and that people change, even those you least expect to. What is something that you have overheard people talk about that really bothered you? I could name more than a few things about race stuff, living where I do. What do you normally say or how do you normally act in response to a compliment? I usually do this shy laugh and say "thank you" with too much enthusiasm. How many books do you own? Do you have more physical books than electronic books? I've no clue where a lot of my old ones are. I have no electronic ones; I strongly prefer to read a physical book. What are your thoughts on higher education? Is it really necessary? In your opinion, what changes can be made? Depending on your aspiring career, it can be necessary, but just as easily, it can be unnecessary. I know for a fucking fact it should not be NEARLY as expensive as it is. Maybe even free, but I have no idea what monetary concerns that could cause with whoever runs the place. Have you ever received a heartfelt compliment from a stranger? Probably at some point. How many people would you consider to be extremely close to you? "Extremely"... like three lmao. Maybe one more or so. When was the last time you had to speak to a crowd? How well did that go? When I was taking pictures at a wedding last. It went okay. How would you describe your general outlook towards humanity? We by no means deserve to be the apex predator and Earth would be a shitload better without us. How long do you think you could last without any contact with your significant other, best friend, or a person whom you consider would be the closest to you? I'll use my mom here, in which case idk. I don't particularly want to find out. I talk to her at LEAST by text daily. Every day now that she can't work/is always home with me. Have you ever realised that someone was lying, but it was too late to confront them? Nope. Eventually speaking up is how I lost her, but.

[hankypranky]

More Ambiguous with Two

Gabriel x Winchester Sister 

Reader wakes up in the trunk of car with no memories. The driver is just as shocked and they continue their path of discovery together with a chimpanzee named Sparkles.

Hurt/Comfort, Amnesia Fic, Feels slightly AU

Part I (word count 2200)

Inspired by this video of this girl escaping from zipties using her shoe laces.

Notes: It was meant to be a reader insert, but it got away from me a bit. The character isn’t gender neutral, it is told from the reader’s perspective with female pronouns - very little description of self other than having hair long enough to wash.

For a split second you thought you had been buried alive but you felt the motion around you and the slight smell of carbon dioxide. Then the bass began thumping through the speakers, ridiculing your pounding headache as you realized you were in the trunk of a car. A flare of panic spiked, but your center of mass started shifting. Unable to brace yourself against anything you involuntarily rolled onto your face, hissing in pain.

Your hands were bound behind your back and your feet strapped together. Everything hurt. Trying to think back to how you ended up in this trunk… there was no recollection. Fuck.

Taking in deep breaths, you tried to remain calm but it was growing increasingly frustrating when the music was turned up louder. The lyrics filling your head and you instantly hated it.

Having your hands in front of you was your first priority to getting out of these bindings as quickly as possible. With little room to maneuver, you turned on your side to hunch your back in an attempt slide your legs through your hands to have them in front of you.The more you inched backwards, the deeper the bindings cut into your flesh. … They were zip ties. Taking a deep breath, you opened the palm of your hand to relax the muscles in your wrist and give you a margin of more room to shimmy with.

It helped, but the strain you were putting on your bindings was great as your fingers became slippery with what you assumed was blood. It was a huge relief when your shoulders released and your hands sprung against the back of your knees. However, it was short lived because the driver hit a pothole and you bounced with so much force, you felt your arm break when you landed. Screaming out loud did nothing to mask the pain but you needed to carry on. You still weren’t done yet.

Extending your arms forward, you pulled your knees to your chest and swooped your arms around your legs officially freeing your hands from behind your back.

A bubble of fear, relief and pain swept through you and a sob escaped your lips. Clenching your teeth you took a steadying breath and rolled onto your left side to take the pressure off your broken arm. You lifted your feet to tie your boot laces together. You couldn't finger them, so so you bent down and pulled the string up with your teeth.

This next part had you worried. You needed to use your laces as a saw which was going to hurt like a son of a b*. Your feet were bound, so you couldn't use the pedal motion. You needed to use your hands and shoulders to create enough friction to cut through the zip tie. Trying to keep more pull on your left arm didn’t help much, every pull had you crying out in pain, your body revolting in every motion. Tightening your grip with your broken arm, you gave it all you had to end this sooner…

It snapped. Your adrenaline was pumping now and there was nothing that was going to keep you a victim. Sliding the place between your ankles, you did the same thing with your feet, except this time you weren’t going to use your right arm. Instead, you slipped the lace through the crook of your left elbow, and did a seesaw motion with your right hand. Though it was causing a nasty rash and took much longer, it was worth avoiding your bad arm.

Despite being locked inside of a trunk, you were free. Why are you locked inside of the boot of this car? Who put you here? Your memory was as dark as this damned trunk.

The music pulled you out of your musings. Time to get to the facts.

Finding the soft spot where the tail light should be you began kicking. Forgetting to brace your arm was a mistake, but one rectified quickly. You kicked so hard your foot got suck momentarily. Shifting around you pulled the liner off to reveal the a desolate highway.

Day time, check.

Other things to assess:

Am I hungry? No.

Am I thirsty? No.

Shit. I’m in so much pain, I can’t tell.

Am I dehydrated?

Your tongue slipped out to find very chapped lips. Definitely dehydrated.

Reaching out you touched your face, there were no open wounds, but a lump on your chin. Punched in the face. Must have been a knockout hit. That explains the memory loss. Okay, so maybe I have been out about 5 hours?

Now having most your mobility back, you made the decision to let the driver know you were awake. They wouldn't be expecting you be free and to strike first. You waited until the song stopped playing before kicking and yelling at the top of your lungs. The next song started playing, but the driver turned off the music, so you kicked even harder against the top of the trunk. As the car slowed down, your heart sped up.

Listening to the steps the driver was taking towards the trunk, you secure your broken arm and positioned yourself to to attack.

Tap tap tap.

Was this person seriously knocking on the trunk?

A man’s voice asked, “Hello? Is someone in there?”

Mimicking his tap, tap, tap, you waited for a response that came in the click of the trunk opening.

The light blinded you but you saw enough of a shape to make sure your punch landed on their face. Your knuckles connected and you fought the urge to close your eyes.

He fell to the ground and began scrambling backwards on the pavement, “Who the hell are you?”

He was still a blur, but his shock was evident. You shouted back at him, “Who the hell are you?”

The man raising his hand in a non threatening gesture, his eyes wide with fear. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I- I literally rented this car this morning.”

Still unable to focus on anything in particular, you accepted the fact he was as surprised as you were. Slowly nodding your head, you believed him. He slowly stood, intentionally trying to make no sudden movements. “You’re hurt. Let me get you to a hospital.”

“Where are we?”

He stood and dusted his hands off on his green jacket, “In Nevada. Off Route 80. About halfway between Reno and Salt Lake City. What’s your name?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you accidentally dropped your broken arm. “Son of a bitch!”

Your arm hung loosely on your side but you could still move your fingers. Grasping your arm, you squeezed your triceps and biceps. You spoke to yourself out loud, “Ok, it’s just dislocated”

Finally able to see the man in front of you, his expression consumed your attention, especially his eyes. They looked gold at first, but had a bit of auburn woven in, for a moment you were mesmerized. “Help me pop it back in.”

“No!” He looked horrified at the thought. “ We gotta’ get you to a doctor.”

You wouldn’t be able to hold out that long, “I can do it myself, but I’d rather have you help me.” Taking in his startled appearance, you asked gently, “Please?”

He huffed out a breath so grand it stirred the bangs on his hairline. “How can I help?”

You walked towards the back of the generic blue sedan and gestured for him to stand near the right side of the car. Settling yourself on the trunk hood you cradled your arm. “I need to relax the muscles first… talk to me. Tell me about yourself. I’m still running on adrenaline.”

You squinted against the sky to see him. Wiping his brow he stared at your in bafflement. “Uh, well my name is Rich and I work in Reno.”

It was difficult to relax, but you closed your eyes knowing the worst of the pain should be over soon, “Oh yeah? Doing what?”

“Gee, what don’t I do. Bartender, host, ticket collector, whatever they need me to do. We’re like a modern circus. We have a variety of performances, some freaks, delicious drinks. I do what needs to be done.” His pacing calms your nerves, he doesn’t have anything to do with your kidnapping. He burst out, “How are you so calm?”

“Did you lock me in the trunk?”

“Hell no!”

“That’s what I figured. I need you to calm down too, okay?” He stopped roaming. “I’m sorry I ruined your day.”

Rich moved in front of you and blocked the sun, it silhouetted around him and it looked like a halo formed above his head. “You’re sorry? What?” He looked down at you and you could see the sincerity and hesitation in his eyes, “ No, no. Look at you. I’m sorry.”

His voiced soothed you in such a way you felt like your worries had been washed away. His voiced bounced from gravelly to high pitched and back in just a few syllables. “Okay, I think I’m ready.” You laid across the trunk. It was hot but not enough to burn you. “Grab hold of my wrist with both your hands, keep my arm level with my body.”

There was a long pause before you felt his firm but gentle grip. Biting your lip, you kept your groan to a minimum. “I need you to move my arm from 90 degrees towards my head while making a handshake motion. Can you do that? Not too fast, not too slow.”

“Yea’.” He gave your wrist a squeeze. “You ready?”

“Yep.” The pain was excruciating, but you felt your joint slide back into place. It hurt, a lot but it was nothing like it was. He moved your arm back so that you could cradle it once again.

“How did you know how to do that? Are you a paramedic or something?”

Unable to even entertain that question, you interrupted him, rubbing your arm, “Hey, I’m gonna’ need a sling or something.”

“Sugar, you need a lot of everything right now. Hold tight.” After a few moments of him scrambling in the backseat, you heard a loud tear. He had ripped one of his undershirts and was approaching with a gallon of water. “Let’s get some of this blood cleaned off before we put this on.” Dowsing his shirt in water, he began to clean your hands. Gently pulling your fingers, wiping away the blood. “Tell me, how did your wrists get to looking’ like this?”

Taking a moment to look at him, his hair shined in the sunlight. It reminded you of a wheat field swaying in the breeze. A few freckled donning his face and thin lips. Though he had a small stature, he made you feel small for some inexplicable reason.

“Freakin’ zip ties. I was hogtied in your trunk with zip ties.” You watched as his eyes widened and waited for you to continue, “I- uh, used the friction from my shoelaces to saw through them.”

Disbelief covered his face, “I thought you said you were hogtied?”

Slightly embarrassed, you felt your cheeks redden, “I was, but I was able to shimmy my arms under my butt to get them in front, but you hit a pothole and that's how I dislocated my shoulder.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows quirked together, “You’re certainly a badass aren't you?”

Your head began to hurt once again. “I guess so… I don’t remember much right now.”

His eyes sharply met yours, “What do you mean, like amnesia?”

Startled by his seriousness, you pulled back, You knew your memory wasn’t right, but the thought of not remembering startled you. Meeting his gaze, you saw the color drain from his face. It perplexed you more. Did he know something?

“It must be the carbon monoxide.” Running your fingers over the lump you had found on your chin, you raised your hand to feel your skull. Your fingers stopped when they discovered another bump and caked on blood in your hair. “I must have a concussion too.”

“Well, we’ll get you to a hospital.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What do you think they are going to do? I have no ID, no possessions. I’m on my own. They are just gonna call the police.”

“That’s kinda the point Toots. They can help.”

“Yeah, sure, but then what? I’m still on my own no matter what.. From what I can gather, I’ve only been out about 6 hours, not enough time for a missing persons report.  If someone was trying to get rid of me, I don’t want an APB out I’ll have more luck with contacting the car rental place.”

Rich’s hand was on his hip, he snarked back, “Oh yeah? What are you gonna’ say, ‘Helloooo, I woke up bound in one of your trunks, do you recognize me?’”

“Look, you packed light. You plan on going back to Reno shortly, let me tag along and we can talk to the rental place. IF they don’t have any information, I’ll go to the police. Deal?”

His arm flung out with his pointer finger extended, “A. That’s creepy you have been able to deduct all of that in the last ten minutes. B. Do you know how frustrating you are?”

“No.”

“Right, right… amnesia.” He sighed and opened the passenger door for you and awkwardly helped you put your seat belt on.

-- -- -- 

If you want to be tagged, just let me know! Currently, it’s at about 17,000 words.  I will most likely continue to post chapters here as I finish the last couple of chapters. You can find my A03 here.

[demytasse]

[Shizaya] Coping Mechanism — Ch 5

[Previous Chapter]

    Izaya wasn’t a hot-blooded individual, he only mimicked one — merely caught up in the moment it was hardly a permanent detriment to his nature. It's just that he was currently hot and bothered, both mind and body struck with fever.

An overactive imagination compromised his chill composure as all his attention was drawn to the bathroom which hid a scene he could only pretend that he witnessed. Warmed ceramic cradled in his hands, overheated brew burned his throat; polyester-wrapped cushions redirected his body heat up onto him, an old flame barely separated by drywall yet completely exposed — Izaya could not keep cool.

              “Mind if I join, hot stuff?”

              “Only if you drop the shitty puns.”

Honestly it was the simple things Izaya remembered the most, what he missed more than the sex, but //clearly he was not without those lusty thoughts. Due to circumstance, one beat out the other as an obvious winner.

    “What a selfish beast he can be... probably doesn't even know that he’s a tease…”

The shower ran stifling as Shizuo was wont to run it which created a blanket of humidity inside the tight quarters while an extension of its steamy forcefield billowed into the living room. Although he couldn’t see it, Izaya knew how the suds further censored the attractive man in the shower, its attempts failed as soap slid over muscle to his feet. Izaya remembered the way Shizuo looked, though not the way he felt beneath his own fingertips. He remembered the way his own curves were felt up, but not the actual touch of Shizuo’s carefully rough caress. Memories recalled the initial chill of water, but couldn't reenact how heated the droplets became after they hit their skin; how the smell of retired deodorant and cologne washed away all distractions — how oddly sweet and hypnotising their sweat could be while its misty remnants swirled their bodies. Izaya distinctly remembered the satisfying burn of shampoo when it seeped through his ill-sealed eyes, what slipped beyond his own smirk while the two paused to drown in air; the sweet-nothings, crude compliments, the spoken sputters and spat words, groans and giggles, frantic and hungry touches...they were all painfully arousing to his senses and only his resolve prevented Izaya from adding himself to the scene; easily change the teen appropriate content to something R-rated.

              “It's good clean fun, hm?”

              “That’s what you call our showers?”

              “It's an idiom, Shizuo.”

              “So you would mind breakin’ it then…”

              “You know, just because we’re in the shower doesn’t change the fact that your thoughts are ‘dirty’.”

Of course their showers were hardly successful — they were an excuse to feel alright about jacking up the water bill, an expenditure that was satisfying enough to split dessert once in awhile, not like Izaya ever needed to worry about that sort of monetary slipup. Under the sensual effects of those moments it was fun to pretend that they were two living in financial poverty while rich in love. And now Izaya found himself in bankruptcy with an overabundant desire to spend beyond his budget.

That's what drove him to crack the door, curse as he remembered the shower stall was beyond visibility from that viewpoint. The mirror also a wash all hazy and ineffective, barely even a blurry form upon it. Frustrated he gave up, turned away while he tugged the door behind him until he heard a low and murmured externalised thought — an echo from within the stall.     “...Izaya…”

It shook him like the rain of discarded water that Shizuo shook from his hair, that to which he glimpsed between the door crack above the hinges.

    “Fuck.”

Izaya thumped his head against the corner door frame, chastised himself and Shizuo for setting him up with such a nuisance to deal with. One glance of the other man with his head hung at his shoulders, affected by his own sensations, had Izaya feel like he needed to join in the same act — separate, in secret, but still the same. Auditory cues sent him into his memories, to one in particular and perhaps a twisted favourite of his subconscious.

     His skin had burned red, agitated from the extended spray of the shower head; it was harshest across his shoulders and traced around his blades, stung over the tracks of nails that sliced like knives. Clean cuts were only deep enough to balance out the soft attention that pathed around his abdomen. A half-drenched mop even with the height of Izaya's waist while Shizuo's eyes stayed out of view, not as though it weren’t easy to read his intent without having access to facial expressions.

    “You have work today.”

    “Yeah…”     “And you’re taking your time.”     “Uhhu.”

    “You’re not leaving enough time for yourself.”     “Then make it up to me later, Izaya, just shut up.”

    “How bothersome, planned sex is such a travesty to the whole act.”

    “For fuck’s sake.”

Izaya had to hand it to Shizuo on occasion, he could be swift in motion, a flash strategist when need be. Unpredictability — the highest high that Izaya could extract from any moment, but especially from Shizuo's actions.

Within a second Shizuo towered over him once again, the next moment Izaya felt tile grout imprint instantaneous bruises at his kneecaps; and even though he knew what the implied course of action was, it was still exhilarating to look up and feign sweet naivete and wait for direction from Shizuo.

    “I guess I’ll...make it up to you later, louse.” Izaya grinned, tickled that his partner could get so flustered over others wanting to please him; clearly it was Shizuo who was more in desperate need of a release anyway. Izaya shook his head while he played it off as trying to discard excess water from his bangs.

    “I’ll hold you to that, Shizu-chan”

It was anticipation that often made Shizuo shudder, sometimes more than the sexual favour itself. He was just that intune with his instincts, feelings, and the moment — just a tease along the underside of his shaft riled him intensely, the intentionally slow buildup to his tip was on par with a low key climax.

The drawn out ministrations went on longer than needed, but it was a treat, something that Izaya could get off on simply by observing Shizuo while he was entranced by the atmosphere; how ecstatic he was, eyes widened at the increasing pulse. Jaw slack, he stuttered guttural words, braced himself against the shower wall with a suction grip that almost broke the tile. And with a light rake of teeth that ended with Izaya's tongue play, it dialed up the sensation as the slit was given explicit attention; Shizuo nearly did the same damage to the floor with his curled toes as he did the wall as he restrained from premature release. He wanted to extract everything he could from Izaya’s efforts.

He seemed blinded of all reality yet intensely aware of his partner. Paid Izaya his gratitude, who hid his face while he bobbed forward and back between without eye contact, shielded away so he couldn’t confirm who grasped his hips firm fingertips, took only a solo knee while the other rest against his calve as if any amount of contact wasn’t enough — as if there were any confusion of what man applied his skilled tongue. Shizuo stroked from the crest of Izaya's bowed head, around the outside of his ear in order to trace what he could of Izaya's cheek; sensual appreciation and a sincere //'thank you’. It made Izaya cum after the arduous stroke of his own erection that he could hardly focus on while he worked at the job he did for Shizuo.

    It was a struggle to restrain himself from whipping the door open, forgetting to strip his clothes and ask for that returned favour that he was promised so long ago. Slam Shizuo against the wall to make him snarl, smile with relief that he was still desired. But what cemented Izaya’s feet, what prevented him from doing much more than kneading his palm over his crotch, was ruined when he recalled the tragedy that had indebted Shizuo in the first place.

                “Was that good enough for you, sweetie?”

                “You're ruining the moment.”

                “Aw, how am I ruining the moment, sugar-tits?”

                “Ugh, you know how.”

                “Alright, alright. I'll stop…Shizu-chan.”

                “Fuckin’ brat…”

                “See you have nicknames for me too, sweet cheeks.”

                “Ugh, I shouldn't wanna marry such an annoying pest.”

                “...excuse me?”

Izaya stopped as the scene came back to haunt him at the most inopportune moment.

                “Ah, well... I thought of ways...the best time to ask...I just...nothing felt right yet...”

                “You think this is something you spring up out of nowhere, without consulting me first? Like a rigged proposal flash mob where everyone's in on it including one being proposed to? A cheap way of pressure me into saying yes?”

                “The hell is a flash mob?”

                “Shizuo that's not the point.”

                “What is it then!?”

                “You're not ready for marriage.”

Izaya forgot that he held his coffee until the mug dropped at his feet. The shock killed his desires upon crash of ceramic.

    “Hey! Izaya...you out there? You alright?”

Squeaks, thumps, the slide of a glass door caused Izaya to panic.

                “The fact you were thinking about how you would propose rather than if I would even say yes tells me that. How you’re still too selfish for a partnership.”

                “...ah...right.”

Izaya ditched the mess he made and bolted for the door; he scrambled over the couch instead of rounding the obstacle. Forgetting his coat and extraneous phones he left on the counter, he only snagged his shoes before he struggled with slide locks and deadbolts that used to be easier to undo.

    “Goddammit, you better not leave, asshole!”

Izaya peeked over his shoulder, noticed that Shizuo barely tied a towel around his waist like he knew he didn't have the time to dress in anything else.

    “Sorry,” Izaya wavered.

A salute and a door slam preceded his dash to the elevator, conveniently a crack away from shutting; he managed to slip on by and cushion his momentous collision with the back wall.

Izaya rammed his head on the surface, breathed all too heavily to calm his panic. Only then did he notice a mature older lady to his left who was shockingly tempered, like she long knew of Shizuo's chaos; he made sure to flash an apologetic smile regardless.

As the lobby neared, he slipped on his shoes, forgot about the laces and prepared to bolt.

              “You won't even move in with me, like you're intimidated by my success?”

              “...well...”

              “You're preoccupied by the romance, Shizuo, not as if we even have much of it.”

              “You finished?”

              “Not especially, no, but I think you want me to be.”

Izaya struggled a final breath as the doors opened. He took long strides through the space, but halted in terror. At the stairway exit stood his ornery ex, loosely wearing his trademark parka as some sad attempt to cover more of his decency.

    “That apology upstairs wasn't what I wanted, louse!” He didn’t even huff, was barely short of breath, just spoke clearly with a commanding bellow.

    “I know,” Izaya nodded, shrugged with a pained smile. “Sorry,” he directed his word towards the puzzled couple shoved in the corner in clutch of the other.

    “Neither was that! How obnoxious can you get!?”

Izaya faced the street entrance, a fraction of pride in his posture, though his legs still refused to progress; stationary, he continued to trigger the automated doors to open after their close. While paralysed he fiddled with a small item — his hand dangled at his hip; polished and unmarred, a piece of jewelry was spun around in contemplation, consolation. It was something he hadn’t worn nor held earlier.

    “You’re such a coward. Don’t know why I thought it’d be any different when you showed up.”

    “Well,” Izaya pocketed the item, replaced it with his cellphone, “you are an idiot.”

He gained confidence from the snide cover and walked off — to his satisfaction Shizuo let him go. Just outside he let go of his breath.

    “I screwed up again, Shizu-chan. Honestly, I’m sorry.”

[alloverthegaf]

So you said you wanted prompts so here's one I tried to write but never did because I'm not a good writer and also I'm lazy: *So the idea is that person A is a barista and person B learns A's hours and come in specifically to see A and order something complicated and annoying. And give A a hard time. But today, A is already having a bad time.* anyway if you want to try that haha

I like it and it’s perfect for Merthur which is not something I generally write but hopefully @dementorsatemysoup will get a kick out of it?

There’s a lot of swearing, mostly a horrendous abuse of the word ‘asshole’, and it cuts off very abruptly because it kept going longer than I meant it to and I ran out of patience lmao but hopefully you like anyway

The first time the Handsome Asshole, as he comes to be known in Merlin’s head, enters the cafe where he works is something of a prophecy for how their relationship is destined to go. He steps up to the counter, six people waiting in line behind him, and proceeds to order quite possibly the most complicated, douchiest beverage Merlin has ever had the displeasure of making. He lists off no less than eight modifications for his coffee, and though Merlin has two years of practice with his customer service smile, he can feel it getting tighter with every specification. Clearly, the Asshole who is Handsome is oblivious to Merlin’s - and his other customers’ - impatience, because he then goes back and lists it all again to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. Merlin assures him, through gritted teeth, that he’s got it all written down and will take extra care not to forget anything, and takes a moment to compose himself before he takes the next person’s order.

Despite the unfairly attractive man - tall, toned and beautifully blond - being an unequivocal douchebag, Merlin does his best to get the ludicrous order right, but they’re understaffed, it’s 8am, and there’s a horde of uni students who are about five minutes away from moaning for brains.

He gets the order wrong, and boy does he fucking hear about it.

It doesn’t stop the man from coming back, though. Two days later he’s back, this time at 4 in the afternoon, and Merlin could swear his face lights up with evil glee when he sees who’s behind the counter.

“Think you can get it right this time?”

Now, Merlin understands that the main reason he even has this job is because his uncle runs the place. He’s very grateful to Gaius for hiring him, and he knows that every time he mouths off to a customer it’s Gaius that has to hear about it. He never actually means to bite anyone’s head off, but he’s never been so great at keeping his mouth shut around bullies and the “think you can not be a prat this time?” slips out of his mouth before he’s even processed the words in his head.

Handsome Asshole’s eyes widen to saucer size and while a part of Merlin is panicking and already trying to think of a way explain this to his uncle, the rest of him is doing a mental self-five. He wishes he had his phone on him to take a photo of the guy’s expression. Maybe he’d print it out. Stick it on one of the front windows.

In the end, he doesn’t get abused. The man orders a flat white with two sugars and doesn’t say another word, but he stays as he drinks his coffee, and Merlin swears he can feel eyes on him the entire time. He waits, afterwards, for the inevitable dressing down from Gaius, but it never comes. Asshole must not have complained after all. Huh.

Maybe he realised he was being a prat after all.

But then, one week later, Handsome Asshole is back and apparently determined to up the ‘Asshole’ levels. His order seems twice as complicated as the first one, and he changes his mind about what syrup he wants about three times. Every time he does so, his smirk grows just a little wider, a little bit more smug, and Merlin can practically feel his blood levels rising. He considers getting it wrong on purpose, just to inconvenience him, but it’s pretty clear by this point he’s just being difficult on purpose so Merlin devotes every ounce of his concentration to making it perfect.

Judging by the surprised look on Handsome Asshole’s stupid handsome face, he succeeds. Mentally, he starts a tally in his head. Counting their first meeting, he sees it as 2 - 1 with him in the advantage. It’s his turn to smile smugly. Asshole looks at him with something like contemplation.

From there the pattern is set. At least three times a week Handsome Asshole - or HA for the times when Merlin’s too busy to properly mentally insult him - comes in and orders something ludicrous. It’s different every time, and every time Merlin makes sure he gets it just right. It comes to the point where Merlin neglects other customers’ orders in sake of HA’s, and as soon as he realises this he curses the man, but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Every time the man sips his coffee, or tea, or iced double whip soy latte with extra foam and two straws, and that expression crosses his face, Merlin feels like it’s a win.

Then comes the Very Bad Not So Good Day, as Gwen refers to it, or Absolute Shitfest, as Merlin prefers. It’s exam time for the uni students, and their milk wand is playing up, and a toddler knocks her babycino (and why is that a drink, Merlin thinks as he’s hurriedly mopping it up, just give her a goddamn juice box), and then a woman wearing gold and pearls like a bird that’s collected too many shiny things for its nest yells at Gwen and very nearly makes her cry, and Merlin has just. Had it. With this day, with this job, with humanity in general, Merlin is done, and he’s trying to gather the strength to last the two hours he has left of his shift while squeezing Gwen’s hand in comfort when the Asshole - because Merlin’s not feeling charitable enough for the ‘Handsome’ part today - strolls in like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Merlin takes a deep breath, lets go of Gwen’s hand with a final squeeze, and steps up to the register. He stands tall as Admittedly Still Maybe Slightly Handsome Asshole walks up to the counter and opens his mouth to no doubt make his day twenty times harder, and Merlin just snaps.

“No.”

Asshole stares at him. “Excuse me? No?”

“No.” Merlin knows he should backpedal, excuse himself, just take the damn coffee order and spit in it when no one’s looking like any normal person would do, but he’s started now and he can’t seem to stop his mouth forming the words. “No, I will not make your skinny cap with three sugars and an extra half shot, or your mochachino at precisely 82 degrees temperature and four marshmallows, no, you don’t get a half-water chai latte with no foam and a dash of vanilla, no, okay, no. I’m done. I have had the day from hell, I am tired, my friend is crying in the back, and I’m about two seconds from throwing a mug at someone’s head, so no.” He breathes in, long and deep, and lets it out, taking advantage of the stunned silence. “I’m willing to do a flat white. One regular, plain, no frills flat white. I may throw in a spoon of sugar if you agree in the next five seconds.

To his utter shock, the man nods. “Okay.” Suddenly, it’s Merlin’s turn to stare. The man’s looking serious for about the first time since he ever stepped foot in this cafe, and is watching Merlin with dark eyes, calm and composed.

“Okay,” repeats Merlin dumbly, “okay.” He turns to start the very simple, very plain, very… boring coffee order.

“Is your friend okay?”

“What?”

Handsome Asshole cocks his head in gentle enquiry, and fuck, fuck if Merlin has stop calling him Asshole then all he’s got left is Handsome and he can not deal with that - “you said your friend’s crying. What happened?”

“Oh,” Merlin says, confused and unsure where to step in the face of this suddenly caring and apparently nice man, “uh, yeah, she uh - just, a customer was really awful to her, a few minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry,” is the man’s answer, and okay, what?

“Seriously? You’re sorry?” Merlin sets the mug down on the counter with a hard clunk and the man flinches as the coffee spills over the sides. “You’re sorry? You’ve been making my life hell since the moment you came in here but someone else gives one of us crap and now you’re sorry?”

“To be fair, I’ve only ever given you crap. I’m always nice to Gwen.”

Merlin throws his arms up wildly. “Oh, well, in that case.”

He hears an inelegant snort and stares at Very Handsome Asshole who is poorly hiding a grin behind one hand. Merlin channels his Uncle Gaius and raises a very unimpressed eyebrow. “Okay, seriously, what’s the deal? Why have you got it in for me?”

“I don’t,” is the reply, as the man lowers his hand but leaves the grin in place. “Not, uh, not like that, anyway.”

And that - that just makes no sense to Merlin, who responds with a very eloquent “what?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but you’re incredible entertaining when you get all riled up.” Merlin opens his mouth to give an improvised but impassioned lecture on the morals of riling up service people for fun when he quickly adds “and cute.”

Merlin thinks something in his brain has fallen out of place. “What?” he says again, because apparently that’s what his vocabulary has shrunk to.

“Your ears get very red,” the man says, and the high points of his cheeks seem to flush in sympathy. “And your eyes get kind of wild and you start biting your lip and, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck. It’s the first time Merlin has ever seen him act self-conscious. “Well. Couldn’t help myself, I suppose.”

Merlin stares at him. And stares. The staring goes on for so long that the coffee sitting ignored between them goes cold. Finally, as if only just managing to register what was said, he exclaims “you’ve pissed me off for near three months because I’m cute?!”

Some of the other patrons look over curiously at the rise in volume. Handsome Man shifts uncomfortably under the sudden scrutiny. “I’ve been told I’m not so good at flirting.”

“You think?”