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wishesunderthestars · 4 years

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Eunoia // Ch. 11

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 9.9k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, mentions of past sexual abuse, injuries and blood

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

A/N: The taglist for Eunoia is now closed.

“Zayn, I promise I’m right around the corner,” you said into the phone. “I went home for lunch and it took a little more time than I had expected.”

You heard the singer laugh on the other end of the line. “It’s alright, you are always on time. I can excuse this one. You aren’t even that late.” You checked your phone to confirm what he was saying. Six minutes late. Not that bad.

“I could be a little earlier. I parked the car at the usual parking spot so I’m really just around the corner.” You looked back at Jimin. He had stopped walking and was looking behind him. Some shop window had probably caught his attention. There were many charming independent shops in the area. “By the way Jimin is with me, he wanted to get out of the house. I didn’t think you would mind.”

“I don’t,” Zayn said. “I would like to see the lad again. You talk so much about him, about all of them really, it would be nice to actually see him instead of hearing about him.”

“I mean…” You paused. “C’mon, I don’t talk about them that much.”

Zayn huffed. “Keep telling yourself that. But I’ll let you have this one. Other than them and work, do you even have any other news?”

“I totally have other news.” Zayn waited. It was slightly worrying that you came up empty. “I’m drowning in work, okay? What other news would I have? Ehhh, have you met Astrid?”

In the short silence that followed, you could hear Zayn rolling his eyes. “Taylor’s hybrid is hardly news, she adopted her a month ago. You were literally together in Nashville. And did you forget I told you that last time I met up with Taylor Astrid was with her? Do you listen that well to what I’m saying?”

“Oh, right. I had wanted to come too, but you know work-” You were cut off by the sound of quick footsteps on the gravel behind you. Not many people wandered these streets. You turned back in time to see Jimin running in the opposite direction down the street. “Jimin!” You shouted. He didn’t stop. He should have heard you. With his hybrid hearing, he should have heard you. “I have to go. We’ll be more late.” You ended the call and took off.

You thanked whatever deities could hear you for deciding to wear sneakers instead of high heels to work. When you had important meetings with the higher ups of the film studios, you would dress nicer and high heels were etiquette at this point. Lucky for you, this day you didn’t have any meetings of that kind but rather a more active role as the director. High heels would only slow you down.

Chasing Jimin down the streets, you were glad nothing was slowing you down. You called his name again and again but he wouldn’t reply, just kept running. Your mind jumped to the worst things that could have happened. No one was chasing him, other than you. He wasn’t running away from someone, unless… Unless he was running away from you. But no. Jimin wouldn’t do that. He had no reason to run away from you. He had been a little strange before and something was certainly off but he wouldn’t run away.

You didn’t let yourself entertain the thought anymore, just put one foot in front of the other as fast as you could. Your heart was racing but it wasn’t solely because of running.

Around a corner, in a small alleyway nestled between a small art shop and a closed down building, Jimin had stopped. You stopped too. A large graffiti in blue spray paint read “The world isn’t fair, why should we be?”.

“Jimin?” you repeated quietly, it felt wrong shouting here.

Jimin was frozen in the middle of the alley, his eyes wide. His hands were fisted at his sides, they were shaking. Someone was standing against the wall.

Jimin went to take a step forward but a hiss stopped him. “Yoongi?”

“Step back,” the man said. Black cat-like ears were turned back, their fur blending into his pitch black hair. Narrowed dark eyes regarded Jimin. Jimin didn’t back down.

“Yoongi, it’s me,” Jimin said, albeit with a little less confidence. His eyes were open and vulnerable, staring at the other hybrid like he was a dream he was too afraid to wake up from, yet he wasn’t sure if he should call it a nightmare. “It’s Jimin, don’t you remember me?”

Yoongi didn’t reply. His shoulders were drawn high in tension, making more obvious the teared up fabric on his shoulder. It wasn’t the only tear on his clothes, his jeans were ripped in a way that didn’t look intentional and the hem of his shirt was torn and scuffed. One of his hands was tightly clutching a baseball cap. “Stay away from me.”

There was so much pain in Jimin’s eyes. All you wanted to do was gather him in your arms and hold him until it was gone, but something was holding you back.

“I looked for you. In the shelter and in the streets. I tried to find you for years.” Jimin’s lip trembled. “Where have you been?”

Yoongi looked away. “You don’t want to know.”

“Please,” Jimin whispered and you could hear the heartbreak in his voice. “I-I’m so sorry.”

That made Yoongi’s head shoot up. “You’re sorry? What-”

Just then, your phone started ringing. Both hybrids looked at you. Alarmed, Yoongi backed further into the alley. Perfect timing. You thought Zayn must be calling you, asking you what had happened and where you had gone, but it was Namjoon. Wary of the deadly glare Yoongi was sending your way, you declined the call.

“Who are you?” Yoongi hissed. The fur on his tail was standing on end and you could imagine him pouncing on you and tearing you apart with his teeth. You hadn’t been as nervous around a hybrid as you were at the moment. With Namjoon, it was more wariness than anything else. But this time a thread of fear was slithering up your arms. There was dried blood on Yoongi’s knuckles. There was no John this time and you didn’t have only yourself to worry about.

"She's my owner," Jimin replied for you. It wasn't the way you would have phrased it and Yoongi's eyes narrowed further until they were nothing more than twin slits. "Yoongi, please," he said again. You didn't know what he was pleading for.

"She's your owner?" Yoongi spat out the word like it was the worst of insults.

You had a very bad feeling about this.

Jimin clenched his jaw, standing up straighter. "She isn't like him, she's nothing like him. She saved me."

Yoongi didn't say anything. His back was one with the wall by now.

Jimin averted his gaze, shoulders slumping. "I-I missed you. I thought... I thought he had done something to you." He hugged his frame, making himself look smaller. "I thought he hurt you," the last words came out as a whimper.

Yoongi was quick to shake his head. "He didn't, he didn't hurt me. You shouldn't have worried about me. You shouldn't be thinking about me."

"But I was! I still am!"

Yoongi looked away, he didn't move from the wall. It was clear the two hybrids knew each other but there were too many things you couldn't make sense of. Yoongi must have been someone important to Jimin if he had chased him all the way here and by what they were saying he had something to do with Jimin's past owner. You had assumed Jimin had been alone with that vile man, you hadn't considered having someone there with him. Someone he seemed to care for. Maybe he had met him at one of those parties Jimin had mentioned his owner liked to take him to, or he was one of his friends' hybrid.

Your brain was in overdrive but your body was rooted on the spot. You didn't want to intrude but you were worried. Meanwhile, you only had limited time before you had to get back to work...

Stupid brain, you cursed. This was such an important moment for Jimin and here you were thinking about work.

“I have to go," Yoongi said, pulling himself away from the wall.

"No!" Jimin protested loudly, moving as if he was going to reach for the other hybrid. "I have been looking for you for years. Don't go. Please." He had been saying please a lot today.

Although Jimin didn't touch him, the other hybrid stopped, as if he was unable to leave Jimin behind when he was calling for him. His fists were clenched at his sides and you could see the dried up blood on his knuckles better. It looked like he had left the blood clog up for a day or more instead of cleaning it. It would be easy to get an infection, especially with the dirt and grime all over his clothes and skin.

"Is she treating you right?" Yoongi asked after a few moments of silence.

Jimin's eyes widened at the question, brimming with tears. You held your breath. "She's my family." He glanced at you. "She taught me how to cook. She takes care of us and she lets us dress any way we like. She lets us go out alone, too, I haven't yet but I could... We went to the lake and we stayed there all day and had a picnic and... and... I'm- I'm happy. I'm happy, Yoongi."

Yoongi lowered his head. "You deserve to be happy," he said quietly but even your human hearing picked it up. He took a step forward.

"Wait." You were surprised to hear your own voice. "You should disinfect your cuts, you could get sick if you leave them like this." Not your best, but enough to make his stop and look at you. Jimin gave you a hopeful look. "I have a medical kit in my car, I can clean them and if you want, then you can leave."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly. His hands were shaking. "You know how to give first aid?"

You nodded. "I have taken a few lessons, I know my way around it."

"She's really good," Jimin confirmed. Neither of you could forget the night you had met. Purplish bruises, stark white gauze and fearful eyes.

Yoongi's cat-like ears twitched. It didn't give you any specific answers as to the kind of hybrid he was. His tail was black as well, it stayed low as he contemplated your offer.

"I don't need your help, I'm fine, " Yoongi said. His eyes flickered to the other end of the alleyway. You could sense the internal battle going on inside him, vices gripping his body as he vibrated with something you were hesitant to call nervousness. His eyes locked with Jimin for a moment and his shoulder slumped slightly. "I don't need your help… but there is someone who does. Can you help him?"

You ignored the suspicious glare and gathered all your confidence. "I can do my best."

A small nod. "Go get your supplies."

He stayed glued to the spot so you turned to Jimin. You cupped his cheek gently and said, "I'm going to the car, I'll be back in a moment." The cat hybrid nodded and you speed-walked to the parking lot, thankfully it wasn't too far away. You would have run if you hadn't already been tired from chasing Jimin. You grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk before rushing back. It was a medium sized box, containing all the essentials, from gauze, band-aids and disinfectant to various pills, like Advil and Claritin. "I've got it," you said when you arrived back at the alleyway, finding the two of them in the same spots you had left them.

Yoongi glanced at you and the white medical kit, and then he was walking away. You took that as a sign to follow him. You slipped your hand in Jimin's, who gave you a small smile, and intertwined your fingers. This neighborhood housed one of your favorite coffee shops, the one you had planned to meet Zayn at, but you hadn’t wandered far from the quiet aesthetic streets with the colorful buildings and the tiny squares.

As you walked further away, the scenery changed. More graffiti appeared on the walls. Words dripping in red and black. Slurs and protests. You kept Jimin close to your side. After ten minutes of walking, Yoongi stopped in front of a two-story building. The door was hanging off from only one of its hinges, as if holding onto a thread. Shattered windows, peeling paint on the walls and pieces of white plastic sheets angling from seemingly random places didn’t leave any room for doubt whether the building was abandoned.

Yoongi slipped in through the half opened door and disappeared in the partial darkness inside. Two balconies were situated above the door on either side, parts of them chipped off. You were worried they would fall on your heads at any any moment. You tugged Jimin forward and twisted your body to get inside without touching the door or the wall. Jimin did the same and you were faced with an empty room. You couldn't see much, sunlight didn't get in the house properly and the plastic sheets prevented most of the rays from passing through.

The smell of rot drifted in the air and you could almost feel the dust swirling around. You resisted an instinctual cough. It was mostly in your mind, the feeling that dust was suffocating you, but your mind tricked your body quickly. You ignored it and walked further into the house, leaving footprints behind on the granite floor. The light got dimmer the further you went and your eyes had trouble adjusting. Jimin's eyesight was much better than yours and like cats he could see well in darkness.

One of the rooms, with the dirtied floral tapestry peeling off from the walls, opened up to a grand staircase. Once upon a time it must have been beautiful, polished wood shining under the light of the chandeliers. You could imagine balls taking place here, women wearing beautiful gowns and men in tuxes made by the biggest names in fashion, mingling and sharing drinks. Now, the room was a ghost of its former glory, a place that belonged in a horror film instead of a period drama.

Jimin's hand slipped from yours and you reached blindly for him. The room wasn't in total darkness but it was dark enough to make you nervous.

In all of your observation of the staircase you hadn't noticed that there was something in the space under the stairs. A boy was curled up on a ratty blanket so thin, it must have been doing nothing to shield him from the cold granite underneath. Yoongi was kneeling next to him but you couldn't make out his features or if he was talking or not. You were too far to hear anything and the building was by no means quiet (you had a suspicion that a family of mice or cockroaches had made its home somewhere inside and you prayed you were wrong). You approached cautiously.

"-alone. Please, don't go again. I'm fine," you could hear the boy saying as you got closer. His voice was croaky, from disuse or pain you weren't sure. He must have been the one Yoongi wanted you to help. You couldn't see him clearly but you could make out the ears peeking out from his hair. Another hybrid.

Yoongi was holding his hand. "You aren't fine, I had to do something. I brought help."

The boy hadn't noticed you so far, he must have been pretty bad if he didn't hear you coming in and didn’t notice your scent. When his eyes landed on you he only curled up tighter with a whimper.

"We're here to help you, not hurt you," you said, coming a little closer when Yoongi didn't hiss at you. You showed him the medical kit you were holding. "I only want to help if you let me."

He didn't uncurl from the ball he had created with his body but Yoongi looked at you expectantly. You knelt on the floor next to the blanket, ridiculously aware of the dust and grime your expensive pants must be gathering. Your mind was jumping from one place to the next so it wasn't surprising that for some reason it decided it was worth it to worry about dirtying your pants. With Yoongi's help, you coaxed him out of the ball so you could start treating him. After turning on the flashlight on your phone, you handed it to Jimin, instructing him to keep it steady while you worked.

The boy clenched his eyes shut at the light, you wondered how long he had stayed here in semi-darkness.

You opened the first aid kit and took stock of the supplies inside, everything was there. You didn't know the extent of his injuries but his labored breathing and sharp flinches whenever he moved told you enough. In the artificial light, you took a better look at the boy laying on the floor. His hair was a reddish shade of orange. A fluffy tail was half-hidden behind his body. A fox hybrid. You had never seen once before.

The awe and curiosity didn’t last long. Your eyes were drawn on his swollen eye, a shocking purple painting his skin. It wasn't the only place tainted with color. His cheek had a purplish bruise as well and his lips were cut in two places. A trail of blood had dried underneath his nose.

"I'll start with your face, okay?" you asked, but the hybrid didn't reply, he just tightened his hold on the blanket. Taking off his clothes, to tend to the rest of the injuries you were sure were hiding underneath, would only make him more uncomfortable. You pulled out a water bottle from your bag, you were always carrying one with you, and poured a small amount on a white cloth. Before the cloth could touch his face, you spoke up, "My name is Y/N. Do you want to tell me your name?"

Wide fearful eyes turned to Yoongi, who gestured vaguely with his hand. "H-Hoseok," the boy whispered.

"Hoseok," you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. "That's a nice name. I like the way it sounds." Gently, you dabbed the cloth on his bottom lip, the boy flinched at the contact. He didn't pull away so you continued. "I'm not a professional, I'm not a doctor or a nurse or anything. My profession is actually very different from that, though I did have to play nurse a few times. I would like to think I'm quite good at this by now. I've taken a few lessons, I was fascinated with first aid when I was younger. I don't even know why."

You continued speaking while tending to the wounds on his face. Earlier in your life you had discovered that talking, or at least listening to someone speak, would take the other's mind off the pain a little. By the time you were finished with his face, you had told him the whole story of how you had come to learn first aid and how you had panicked and forgotten everything you had learnt the first time someone had fainted in front of you, only remembering what to do when a friend of yours had pinched you. Hoseok listened to everything you said silently, his lips curling up a tiny bit at the last story. Maybe you exaggerated a bit and you made way too many hand gestures for someone supposed to be tending to his wounds but it seemed to be working.

Yoongi helped him pull off his shirt and you heard a gasp from behind you as his torso was revealed. His body was toned but a few of his ribs were pushing out in ways they probably shouldn't. It wasn't too bad but it was clear he hadn't been eating well for some time. But that wasn't the worst and it wasn't what you noticed first. Large bruises littered his body and what looked like the imprint of a hand was left on his bicep.

Switching topics, you told him about your first time coming to Los Angeles. Hoseok let out a breath as you started speaking again. As you checked his ribs, you recalled your very first days in the city, when you had been as excited as afraid to go to University in a brand new city where you had no friends. He hissed at the contact, but didn't object otherwise. You observed the way he breathed, taking note of the heavy bruising over his ribcage. You applied salve over the area and all the other bruises on his torso and the few on his back, the front had taken the blunt of whatever had happened. You had a suspicion but didn't speak of it yet.

His right arm was broken, he was holding it immobile close to his body. One touch and you were certain of it. Disinfecting a rather large cut on his arm, you wrapped it in gauze after coating the injury in a thin layer of cream. The cream smelled awful and was a sickly green color but you could testify to how effective it was. You did your best to make a cast for the arm, you hadn't done it before outside of a class and it was more of a struggle than you had expected. When his arm was secured in the cast, you trailed off your recounting of a stupid fight you had with one of your cousins that resulted in both of you getting lost. You were done. Hoseok looked at you with wide eyes, as if asking you why you stopped.

"This is it, we're all done," you said, rubbing your hands together with hand sanitizer like you had before treating him. "When did he... get injured?"

"Why do you need to know?" Yoongi asked, at the same time as Hoseok croaked out, "Yesterday."

"What pill I give him to relieve the pain depends on when he got hurt. Some kinds could slow down the healing process if they are taken less than 48 hours after the injury." Digging into the small suitcase-like kit, you handed him two paracetamol tablets along with the water bottle. There was still had some water inside. "It will numb the pain, it takes about an hour to work," you explained.

Hoseok tentatively took the pills and bottle from you. He drunk the water in one gulp and you were reminded again that he might have gone without water for some time. "Thank you," he said, his eyes on the blanket.

You sighed, getting up from the floor and dusting off your pants. Just like you had expected, two white patches were left on your knees. "I'm afraid, other than a broken arm, you might have fractured one of your ribs. I noticed the area hurts more than the rest and you have some trouble breathing." Jimin who hadn't moved much while you were working, latched himself on your back. The situation was too familiar for him. The injuries, the smell of the disinfectant and the fear in Hoseok's eyes. And just like that night your heart was clenching, begging you to do more. It worked once, why wouldn't it again? The traitorous organ whispered.

Yoongi had sat on the blanket next to Hoseok, who had crawled closer to him, his side touching leg. The silence is broken as your phone starts ringing again. You had set it on silent so whoever is calling you must have made many attempts. You are expecting to see Namjoon's name flash on the screen with the wolf and moon emojis, but instead it is the name of one of the producers.

While tending to Hoseok, you had almost forgotten you had to be at work after the supposedly short trip to the coffee shop. You had to take this. At the other side of the staircase, close to a door that led to what must have been a dining room once, you answered the call.

Everyone had been looking for you, worried about your absence. You had never been late to work before, often you would show up before you were scheduled to, in order to get some additional work done. Three missed call, that's how many times just the producer had called you. His worry soon turned into irritation, asking you why you didn't inform them and why you weren't answering your phone. They had called everyone close to you to find out what had happened and no one had any answers.

You were more than an hour late. An hour you were supposed to spend guiding the actors and getting the first feeling of a few scenes. Those plans went down the drain.

You peeked over the railing of the staircase. Jimin was standing closer to the space Hoseok was laying under the stairs. They were talking but they were being quiet and you couldn't hear what they were saying over the loud voice of the producer coming from the phone and your own too loud thoughts. You tried to explain yourself, staying as close to the truth as possible, which was admittedly difficult. In the end, you used the personal emergency card. Although the producer didn't sound convinced, he let you off, scolding you half-heartedly about calling next time instead of leaving them in the dark looking for you and thinking about the worst.

Ending the call, you looked through all the ones you missed and the texts they had sent you. You replied to a few of the texts, giving the same answer as you had to the producer. There were several from Zayn, asking where you were and if you were okay. In the final one he asked you to call him as soon as you could. Guilt gnawed at your insides. You had left him alone waiting for you for forty minutes, until he was sure there was no chance of you coming. You were an awful friend. Namjoon had also sent you a few messages. Someone had called the land-line at your house. No word from you. You and Jimin had both disappeared. Cradling your heavy heart, you sent a message to Namjoon assuring him that Jimin was with you and you were both alright. You hoped that would be enough for now.

Pocketing your phone you walked around the stairs. Closer to them you could pick up parts of their conversation. Yoongi and Jimin were arguing, silent tears streaming down Jimin's face. You held yourself back from running to him and pulling him away from whatever was hurting him. This was Jimin's battle, you would let him fight it. He rarely spoke of the demons of his past but they were many and frightening with long claws and sharp teeth.

Jimin suddenly reached for your hands. "Tell them, tell them to come home with us. Please, they can't stay here. We have a lot of space in the house, they can take one of the rooms until he heals."

Your mouth was faster than your brain. That was a problem you didn't have to worry about before but something was changing. "They can come home with us if they want." Yoongi hissed, ready to protest. "A fractured rib isn't a trivial matter, he would need medical supervision but I can guess you don't want to go to a hospital. I can tend to it until he gets better, he will need medication to relieve the pain and plenty of bed rest. This place will only slow his healing."

"Yoongi, please. Let me..." He stopped with a sniffle. "Just come with us. I need you to come with us." That seemed to break any of the resolve the older hybrid had. Hoseok didn't react at all, remaining curled in on himself.

"Okay, we'll come," Yoongi said. "We'll come, but we'll leave as soon as he's better.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

It should be way more surprising when you show up at the Castle with Jimin and two unfamiliar hybrids in tow. The initial surprise lasted only a few minutes before everyone just sort of accepts this. Namjoon was the most wary but you couldn't blame him, his instincts were screaming to protect his pack and while Hoseok in his condition was by no means a threat, Yoongi didn't exactly look friendly. Jungkook had hopped away soon after with Jin. The bunny hybrid wasn’t good with strangers. You suspected that he had inherited some bunny instincts that made him jumpy and easily afraid around predators.

You led the two new hybrids to the guest room with the two queen beds on the second floor, and like you had with Jin, you gave them the key. Yoongi looked at you suspiciously but didn't say anything. Hoseok fell asleep as soon as his body hit the soft mattress. Their reaction to the house had been similar to most people’s. Wide eyes and disbelief. It didn’t serve to calm Yoongi down, instead he looked like you had been leading him straight into some sort of trap.

Jimin stuck close to you as you called John from your office. He was one of the first people your team had called, it just happened that the day they needed him was the day he hadn't accompanied you. He was fuming when he answered, worried out of his mind and, unlike the producer, he didn't let you off easily. You had been rash, forgot about any rational thoughts, put yourself and Jimin in danger, didn't call anyone for backup in case something happened. Those hybrids could have been serial killers for all you knew. The list went on and on.

"I'm coming over as soon as I can," he said. "I have to see those hybrids for myself. You can't just go around picking up hybrids like they are new projects. What mess have you gotten yourself in this time?"

"Hopefully, not too big of one," you muttered. "You don't have to come, really. I've got everything under control and it's your week off. I took the rest of the day off so I'll be home. I swear I'll call you if anything happens."

"There is no way I'm leaving you in the house with two hybrids you just picked up from the street and decided to nurse back to health-"

"One of them is fine," you interrupted him.

Yoongi didn't have any visible injuries other than his bloody knuckles and a slit lip he wouldn't let you touch. Even if he had more, there was no way he would let you tend to them.

"And that makes it better how?" John asked. "I mean, good for him he isn't injured, but that doesn't guarantee your safety. If he is fine, he could try something. Don't forget that hybrid's have human DNA too, there are bad apples regardless of how much you want to keep looking at the good ones. Just because it worked once, doesn't mean it will work again. "

Jimin was sitting on the edge of your desk, his head tilted to the side. He could hear everything with his hearing. You ruffled his blond hair and he leaned into your touch. "It isn't the same," you said.

"Isn't it? It sounds awfully a lot like something I've heard before." John sighed. "It isn't that I don't trust your judgment, but lately you act then ask questions lately. I trust you but I don't trust everyone you take into your house. They could take all of your jewelry before they disappear or it could be much much worse."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely defenseless." The first years John was assigned to you, he had decided to teach you the basics of self-defense. He couldn't always be with you and you hadn't been able to throw a punch to save your life. The lessons had paid off and, although you were no black belt student, you could defend yourself to an extent if you had to. "I'm serious, you don't have to come over. What about Alice? She wouldn't want her father running off when he promised her he would spend the week with her."

John huffed. "You are evil, using my daughter against me."

"I will add it to my resume," you said. "I'm alright and I'm going to be alright. You know I'm not alone, if anything happens we can count on each other, and you can come in a few days when your break is over and check in."

"I'll accept this only because I have heard Namjoon growl when he thinks someone in his pack is threatened," you felt warmth seep in your cheeks when John mentioned so casually that you were part of their pack, "and Jungkook has gained enough muscle in the last few months to launch a nice punch if he needs to protect himself or someone." It was difficult to imagine your sweet bunny hybrid punching anyone, especially given the way you had found him, but it was true that the time he spent in the gym paid off.

John didn't come over. He stayed with his daughter because he had promised they would go to the zoo together as soon as she woke up from her afternoon nap. You went through a few papers after the phone call, reassuring yourself multiple times that the whole TV show wouldn’t crumble because you had taken one day off work (you really needed to work on your sense of self-importance). Jimin had turned his body on the desk so he could see what you were doing without taking up too much space.

They would be fine without you. The conclusion wasn't hard to reach but you had tortured yourself a lot over it. Missing days of work was almost unheard for you. You scheduled your life around your work schedule, the breaks were on specific dates and you didn't need to take extra ones. To miss work, you had to be so sick you couldn't get out of bed without fainting.

You put the papers in their respective folders and placed them back on the bookshelves. "Now that we are alone, do you think you can tell me what happened?" you asked, feeling Jimin's eyes on your back.

"I-" He averted his gaze, his fingers wrapping and unwrapping on the hem of his shirt, wrinkles forming on the material and smoothing out again. "I'm sorry."

You walked around the desk, coming closer to him. "That's not what I wanted to hear. A warning before taking off would have been nice, though. My mind went to the worst possibility and you wouldn't answer my calls or wait for me."

Jimin was about to apologize but stopped himself. "I couldn't lose him. I couldn't stop running, I couldn't lose him again. I couldn't really hear you... It was like a fog was over everything other than the path I was following. I needed to make sure it was Yoongi, that he was alright."

You touched Jimin's thighs, situating him better on the desk so you were standing between his legs. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He hesitated before reaching for your hand and holding it in his. He brought it close to his face and started nuzzling on your wrist. He had told you your scent calmed him and he liked it when your scents mingled. Placing a kiss on the center of your wrist, he pulled back a little, keeping your hand in his.

"He was there, in my old house," he said. "I was around sixteen when he was brought in. My owner didn't say why he was there but Yoongi is a panther hybrid, he could brag about him to his friend and he was also a guard. He was supposed to be protecting the house, to be protecting me. I was all alone there and then I wasn't. He was suddenly there and I wanted a friend so bad. Yoongi was gentle and he was kind, he would stay with me when I was feeling lonely. He cooked for me when he could, the food was delicious. I remember loving it but I'm not sure it was because of the food itself or because he was the one who had cooked it. Maybe both." He lowered his head, his cat ears pinned to his head. "We did something. We did something very bad. He took Yoongi away and I was returned to the adoption center. I never learnt what he did to him. I thought..." His voice cracked.

You shushed him, stepping even closer and taking his into your arms. He wrapped his arms around your neck pulling you against his chest. "He's alright. You're safe here. This is a safe place."

"I know," he mumbled into your shoulder. "I know."

You cupped his neck with one hand, rubbing small circles with your thumb on his neck. "Do you trust him? Do you trust him to stay here until Hoseok recovers?"

He nodded. "I trust him, I would trust him with my life."

You held him in silence for some time, just feeling him breath against your chest. "What did you do with Yoongi?" you asked, curious. Jimin stiffened, you felt like he was holding his breath. "You don't have to tell me."

His body relaxed a little, leaning on you. "I can't, we shouldn't have done it. We betrayed him. I couldn't hold myself back, I was weak. I'm stronger now, I promise. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if your hated me."

What he said made you jolt back. Jimin whined lowly but you were quick to cup his soft cheek. "I could never hate you. Nothing in this world could make me hate you," you said, gazing into his watery eyes. Even with tears threatening to fall, he looked beautiful. "My Jiminie. Nothing you say will ever change my feelings about you. Your past doesn't define you. Whatever you did to that man, he deserved it."

"But you don't."

You didn't understand what he meant. "What?" You looked into his eyes but you only found sadness there. The small smile on his lips hurt more than his tears would.

He sniffled. "Don't leave me. Don't throw me away," he pleaded.

You squeezed his thigh, leaning your forehead against his. "Never, I'll never leave you. I will always watch over you, I swear."

“I’m not worth it. I’m not worthy of the care you give me,” he whimpered.

“You are. You are worth everything and so much more.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Namjoon was sitting on the largest couch in the living room, a documentary about ocean life playing on TV. His ears twitched a little when he heard you climbing up the stairs. You stayed standing for a moment, watching the screen as a blue whale emerged from the water shooting up a water water spray like a fountain. Their tails flapped against the water. Such magnificent creatures. They were endangered species, the man speaking explained, hunted and killed for their meat and blubber. On top of that, pollution, vessel strikes, entanglement in traps and nets and more.

If there was one thing humans knew how to do is destroy beautiful things.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? Or some variation of it?” You turned away from the screen and settled on the couch, leaving some distance between you. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you before springing this on you.”

“I can handle it, I think,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think Jimin left you much of a choice if he ran after him. If his mind is set on something, he won’t stop until he gets it.”

“Do you know anything about him? Yoongi? Jimin told me some things but he doesn’t want to say everything.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I didn’t even know he existed until now. Jimin never mentioned it. He doesn’t like talking about his past. I can understand, but then things like this happen. I just wish he shared more with us, so we could help him.”

“I know,” you agreed. “I feel the same. But it’s only temporary. In about a week Hoseok will be well enough to go. Not completely healed, that could take up to a month or more, but he will be better.”

He cracked a small smile. “You can’t really stand there doing nothing, can you?”

You couldn’t, could you? You had always been one to try to help in any way you could. It didn’t matter what the problem was, you wanted to help. An issue at work, a dilemma one of your friends was facing, human rights, poverty, hunger. Homeless injured hybrids. But you usually were careful, you would think the problem over, review all the points and then try to find a solution.

Since when did you throw caution to the wind?

You liked to pride yourself on your mind. You could see the things other people couldn’t and laid new paths when others hadn’t bothered to stray a foot from the blocked road. It felt like you were slipping.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you said, hiding your face in your hands. “Jimin was so sad and Hoseok’s ribs are fractured-”

Namjoon cut you off by tugging at your arm. He pulled you closer to him. “I trust you, you know I trust you.”

“That doesn’t always make things better,” you said, laying your head on his shoulder. “What if I’m wrong? What if you trusted me and I’m wrong? And, I don’t know, something really bad happens.”

“Then we’ll face the consequences together.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll tell you if I think you’re wrong and we will work it out. Now, I’m not sure. We don’t know what happened or why one of them has fractured ribs and a broken arm. I saw the blood on Yoongi’s hands. All we know is that he was part of Jimin’s past.”

The screen was darker as lion fish were swimming around the bottom of the sea, illuminated by blue light. They weren’t afraid of the diver, aware of the poison in their back spines, the narrator said.

You shuffled around a little, getting comfortable on Namjoon’s side. His arm snaked around your waist, settling on your hip. The words unsaid between the two of you were choking you.

“Jungkook came to me earlier,” he said. “He was crying. He told me he had done something horrible, something he couldn’t forgive himself for. It took me hours to calm him down. He said I needed to find Jimin and make sure he was okay. After what he had done, Jungkook said he wouldn’t want to see him again.”

You frowned. “Jungkook said that?” That sounded nothing like the sweet boy you knew. Sure, Jungkook liked joking around, teasing all of you and he could be very stubborn. But he looked at Jimin like he was his muse and whatever he created would be bland and pointless without him. “Jimin caught me last minute before I left the house. He didn’t look well, he was panicked. It was like he was trying to escape something. He didn’t tell me what happened and I didn’t want to push him and make things worse. Where is Jungkook?"

“At the atelier, Jin is there with him. I don't know what we'd do without him," Namjoon said. You agreed. Jin had slotted into your lives like he was always meant to be there. "What about Jimin? Wasn't he with you?"

"He came with me to my office, before I came upstairs he said he was tired and he left to go to your room."

The sun was setting outside, the sky turning navy as the colors of the day receded. You felt like only a few minutes ago you had been about to walk out the door to meet up with Zayn.

Namjoon's hand was rubbing your arm up and down, the touch calming something deep inside you. You had so many questions, so many doubts about what you were doing. There were so many ways this could go wrong. Jimin was in a fragile state. If what Jungkook had told Namjoon was true to some extent, Jimin would be in a really bad place. On top of that, a person from his past showing up could ruin all his progress. Most of all, you were afraid your Jimin would get hurt.

"You're thinking too loud again."

You groaned, burying your head in his shoulder. "I'm not." You turned to the TV trying to erase the look on your face. The deepest parts of the sea were home to so many creatures. Small and large, all of them had adapted to live in darkness. Adapting. Such an interesting skill.

You squirmed in Namjoon's arms, he loosened his hold on you so you could sit up straighter. You hadn't talked about the night when you had been beating yourself up for saying the wrong thing, Jin's retreating form, head lowered, haunting you. Namjoon had a way to make your brain go quiet, something you hadn't learnt how to do regardless of how much you tried. You had been floating and for once you had fallen asleep without tossing and turning.

But you hadn't talked and you couldn't decide if it was better that way or if it would only serve to torment you further. The doubts came, like they always did, and you weren't ready to deflect them.

Namjoon's clever eyes were on you as you traced invisible swirls from his shoulder, his neck and up his face. Your knuckles ran over his cheek in a feather-light touch. His hand covered yours, bringing it to his mouth and placing a kiss in the center of your palm. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest.

"Can I?" he asked, leaning closer. You could do nothing but nod. His lips touched yours gently at first, before both of you got lost in the feeling. This kind of kissing was reserved for books and movies, it wasn't something that was supposed to happen in real life and yet... How could you settle for anything less after this?

This, this was something you could write about. Something to fill up all those blank pages taunting you. Paragraphs upon paragraphs attempting to describe that feeling spreading through your whole body. You could spend your whole life trying to put this moment into words and it would be worth it.

You pulled back. A flush had crept up on Namjoon's cheeks and his hair was mussed. You probably didn't look any better. Hopefully, your makeup could cover any redness on your skin.

Your hand was still in his, held against his cheek.

"What are we doing?" you asked him, breathy from the kiss that had overtaken your whole being. "What does this mean?"

"What do you want this to be?"

Your lips twitched up. "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."

Namjoon combed a hand through your hair, twisting a strand loosely around his fingers before letting go. "It can mean whatever we want it to mean. Whatever we need it to be."

On a moment, his back straightened and he looked at the stairs. You followed his gaze but saw nothing. A few seconds later, your human ears were able to pick up steps climbing up the staircase. You got up from the couch and straightened the wrinkles on your clothes. An itch to change into clean clothes nagged at you, preferably after taking a nice long shower, but there were still things needed to be done.

Black hair was the first thing you saw before the rest of Jin came into view, but you had already guessed who it was by the careful steps he was taking. Living with them, you could distinguish between the ways they climbed up the stairs. Jungkook ran up, eager to reach his destination. Jimin occasionally skipped some steps, light on his feet like he was floating his way up. Namjoon's step were light as well and he was the most likely to miss, stalking up the stairs silently as if on a hunt. Jin was careful and measured in everything he did and this was no different.

The sugar glider hybrid glanced around, his eyes landing on the two of you in the living room. He shifted his weight on his feet.

"Hey," you said softly, coming closer. "Is Jungkook still in the atelier ?"

Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, even though he tended to stick to the other hybrids like glue. Whatever had happened earlier was enough to make him change his habits.

"He's in the middle of a painting," Jin said, biting his bottom lip. It was obvious he was worried as well, but trying to make excuses for the youngest. "I'm going to cook dinner."

The sun had set by now but you couldn't comprehend how late it had gotten. Time to make dinner. On an average work day you would be wrapping up now and checking off the tasks you had completed, making sure everything was going according to plan before leaving.

"I'll help you then," you said, nudging his hands with yours. The two of you go to the kitchen and Jin starts pulling out bowls from the cupboards. "What are we making?"

Jin paused. "Now that you're here, we can make whatever you want. But I can cook. You should rest, you must be tired."

"No more tired than usual." It was true in a weird way. Your body was actually feeling less like it would need to sleep for a week to restore all its functions and more like something heavy you didn't recognize had wrapped itself around your shoulders. "You? How are you feeling?"

Jin fiddled with one of the bowls. "I'm alright."

On a couple shelves, away from where most of the action took place, your cookbooks were lined in neat rows. You picked up one of your favorites, the well-known chef smiling at you from the cover.

"It's okay if you aren't," you said. "It was very unexpected. It'd be understandable if you felt uncomfortable or upset. I didn't get a chance to warn you before bringing practically two strangers into your home."

The bowl was apparently very fascinating for Jin because he was looking nowhere else as he forced a smile. "I couldn't be upset. I was a stranger coming here, too."

You left the cookbook on the counter. "The circumstances were different. I had called the others before adopting you and we had all agreed that I would bring you home with me. I adopted you, you came to stay. They will be leaving soon."

"It's just... I'm not used to strangers," he admitted.

You moved around the kitchen island, standing next to him. You gave him space in case he wanted to move away but he only leaned closer to you. "This is your home and all I want for you is to feel safe here. I'm sorry I didn't call you to ask before bringing them here. I don't want you to act like you don't mind if you actually do. You have a right to be upset."

You brought your foreheads together, rubbing gently. A rare purr escaped Jin and although his cheeks reddened he didn't pull away at the sound like he used to do.

The kitchen filled with noise as you started preparing the dishes. You had decided on chicken with honey and garlic as the main dish and you would make a few side-dishes because you didn't know what the new hybrids liked to eat. Halfway through, when you had added the honey, the diced garlic and the soy sauce in the pan, the itch under your skin got too long and you left to go shower.

Washing away the day felt almost cathartic. The worst parts of it falling down the drain. It was your favorite part of coming home, second only to seeing your hybrids and spending time with them. Freshly washed and dressed into sweatpants and a comfortable top, you got out of your room. Dinner wasn't ready yet but Jin didn't need any more help. Any other day you would get your laptop and open one of the files in your to-do-list but this time you climbed down the stairs to the second level.

Knocking on the door, you took a step back and waited.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice you recognized as Yoongi's called from inside.

"It's Y/N." You didn't elaborate further, curious to see what he would do. Contrary to what you had expected, you heard the key being turned. The door opened, Yoongi peeking at you through the crack.

"What do you want?"

"Dinner is almost ready," you said. "I came to check in on you. Has Hoseok woken up? I wanted to see how well the medication worked."

You could sense Yoongi contemplating shutting the door in your face before a small voice from inside said, "I'm awake."

Yoongi muttered under his breath but opened the door further letting you in. The room was mostly untouched, only the bed Hoseok had been sleeping in gave an indication that someone had been inside. Yoongi had taken a shower but changed back into his own clothes, which he had pulled out from the small duffel bag. The green duffel bag, as worn as their clothes, was the only thing they had carried with them. It was small and certainly not enough for two people to live out of.

Hoseok was laying on the bed, making himself as small as he could without aggravating his injuries. In the hand that wasn't in the cast, he was clinging to the blanket he had with him in the abandoned building. It desperately needed to be washed but you weren't sure it could be salvaged. The light in the room was in the lower setting not to aggravate his eyes. His fluffy tail was curled around his waist, dirt staining it and parts sticking together with grime.

He stuttered answering your questions but overall he looked better. The granite floor with only a thin blanket to lay on wasn't a place someone could actually rest on. You offered to bring him some clothes to change into. Unlike Yoongi, he accepted.

Jacob's clothes had really come in handy. You would have never guessed that you would find a use for them when he left them behind. You had even considered throwing them out at one of your lowest points. Jacob's promise to remain friends and the excuse he would be coming over had been proven a lie or just wistful thinking. They weren't taking too much space, considering how large your closet was, but you had no use for them but sentimental memories you no longer needed. Until February, that is.

Some of Namjoon's clothes would fit Hoseok better, but you dismissed the idea without considering it. The hybrid's scent would be too prominent on the clothes. Jimin liked wearing the others' clothes because he claimed he loved being enveloped in their scents. It was also the reason he had stolen one of your hoodies that fit him and refused to give it back.

Jacob's scent had faded from his clothes after so many months, Namjoon had confirmed it. He had left in early December, five months had come and passed since then. You could remember the months leading up to the break up. It wasn't the fights, there weren't many of them, but the silence and the distance that had broken you. You had been at work all day and he had been at the studio. When he went out you either couldn't go because you were busy or you were too tired to. He didn't get your hobbies. He wasn't a fan of reading and he didn't let you listen to his tracks before they were ready. You weren't good at giving feedback, he had told you laughing after you had said the track felt like something was missing in the chorus. You had been getting further and further apart for more than a year. The house was but a way to fool yourself that everything was alright.

Yoongi had helped Hoseok shower, following your advice to not ruin the cast on his arm and wet the bandages you had wrapped around some of the deeper wounds.

Dinner was different. You had carried two trays down with Jin's help for the two hybrids. It was better for Hoseok not to move and even if he could, Yoongi wouldn't be thrilled at the idea. Jungkook didn't come up for dinner. He wouldn't leave the atelier and Jin carried another tray to him, because there was no way he would let him go without eating. Jimin asked after him. He didn't speak for the rest of dinner picking up the food on his plate with a guilty expression on his face.

John did come the next morning. He didn't press and didn't threaten anyone, not that you had expected him to but it was a relief nonetheless. John was an intimidating man with his height and bulkiness. Yoongi hissed, backing into a corner when he saw him. John looked him up and down, taking in his split lip, the bruises and his worn clothes, and then showed you a picture of his daughter on his phone. Yoongi regarded him for a little longer before disappearing again.

Jungkook and Jimin were avoiding each other. Jungkook did everything in his power not to find himself in the same room as Jimin, getting up and leaving whenever Jimin entered. The hurt on Jimin's face was heartbreaking every time it happened. You tried to comfort him but you couldn't do much when you were gone most of the day and you had to check Hoseok's injuries every morning and night.

You were in your office scanning a few documents when the email was delivered. Your hand froze, unable to comprehend the contents at first.

There was a knock on the half-opened door. Namjoon walked inside. "Are you coming for dinner?"

You looked up from your phone. "I have to go to Virginia the day after tomorrow."

#bts #bts hybrid au #btscreatorscorner #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #bts angst #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #jikook #yoonmin #sope

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lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

HIII 🤩 for your 700 followers event, can I request red roses, gardenia, and honeysuckle for Reiner pleassseeee with a cherry on top 🥺🥺

ofc! :D i hope you like it and sorry for the waiting!

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red roses - passionate and romantic love ; gardenia - secret love ; honeysuckle - eternity x reiner braun

Falling in love with Reiner Braun wasn’t in your plans.

Your family dislikes his, specially since they moved to the house next to yours. It’s just irrational hate, all because his mother wanted to share the garbage container instead of buying one. Actually, that’s a huge reason to get enemies in your neighborhood. You remember clearly the day he moved there. You were on your room, studying for your last exam. It was a hot afternoon, almost summer, and the sun was shining without any cloud to cover it. You saw his mother watering some red roses outside, and she smiled at you when she found your gaze. You waved your hand quietly, smiling a bit. Miss Braun is really sweet and kind. Then, a blonde boy appeared. He was dressing casually, just a plain t-shirt and shorts, but that wasn’t the thing that caught your attention. His smile towards his mother was huge, full of love and respect. Her mom looked at you again, as if she was saying goodbye, and that was the exact moment your eyes collided. He showed a sweet smile before disappearing inside his house. That night he was, obviously, the topic of the dinner conversation.

“Have you seen it? The neighbors have a boy around your age.”

“For sure he’s also a disrespectful man.”

You sigh. You’re tired of this.

Summer passed by really fast, and you discovered his name: Reiner. He’s an only child and he moved there with his parents. You talk to him whenever you two coincide: when you take out the trash, when you walk the dog or when you go out and he’s watering his mother’s plants. Since both of your families work almost all day, you have a lot of time to pass together. A casual soda on his porch derived to a coffee on your favorite café, and that to a meal on your kitchen and that to a dinner on his yard. The more time you spent with him, the more attracted you felt.

There was like an invisible thread pulling you closer, and it was impossible to resist it.

“Auch.” both of you giggle. He pats softly your head, where you hit, and you try to put the rear-view mirror back to his original position after hitting it with your head. “Your car isn’t the most comfortable place to give a good-bye kiss.” you say. It’s now September, and you’ve been secretly dating Reiner for almost four months. His car is parked on the street before yours, and you’re half leaning towards him, trying to find his lips, but your head found the mirror instead. He laughs again, quietly.

“Does it hurt?” he asks. His big hand is still on your forehead. You shake your head.

“Nah. I didn’t hit that hard.” you whisper. The silence is now comfortable, and you’re feeling his hot hand against your hair. “How much time do we need to hide?” you ask, quietly. You hear how Reiner sighs. He knows you’re right, your family will never approve this relationship, even when you’re free to decide with whom you want to be.

“ We’ll think about something.” he says. You’ve enjoyed a day out, it’s not time to think negative. You smile at him and he does the same, leaning closer to you, avoiding the mirror. “I also don’t like to hide. God, Y/N, if I could yell to everyone that I’m with you, I wouldn’t doubt.” he whispers, you can even feel his lips brushing against yours with every word he says. You smile.

“I know.” of course you do. Reiner radiates love in every single word, action and gaze he gives you. “I would pay to walk by your hand on our street or pass the night together.” Reiner sighs again, taking your body as close as he can, letting your head rest against his arm.

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait for it, and never leave you on the process.” he promises. You can see the petals of the honeysuckle he has tattooed on his arm. He also caresses yours, on your wrist. It was a total coincidence that you both had the same flower tattooed, but that was like a little reminder of destiny. Of how you were made to be together. “What if we go dinner with your parents?” he asks. You part and look at him, surprised.

“Why so suddenly?”

“I want to be serious with you.” he says. “I really love you, and I don’t want to hide something that feels so good anymore.” it seems like his brain has been working full-speed all this time. “I want to be with you as a normal couple, and I want to impress your family. I want them to know me, not to have a prejudice against me. I want them to accept us.” he says. You also want. That dinner can end in two ways: your family likes him, or your family hates him and doesn’t want to know him. You sigh. Why is it so difficult?

“I don’t know, Rein. I don’t want them to mistreat you.”

“It’s okay, love. They won’t, I’m sure. They just want to protect you. And so do I.” he says. “I’ll make them see I just want to treasure you.” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “I want to spend my life with you. I really want. I want to wake up with you and move with you and love you even more than I do now.” he whispers. He takes then your wrist, kissing your honeysuckle tattoo. You blush.

“Reiner...” you whisper. The blonde boy smiles.

“I’ll be patient for you.” he says. He looks to the front, the stars shining intensely. “I’ll wait the time needed to spend my life by your side.”

#cookiefics' botanic garden!#aot x reader #aot fluff #aot fic #aot fanfiction #aot scenario #snk x reader #snk fluff #snk headcanons #snk fic #reiner braun #reiner x reader #attack on titan reiner #reiner #reiner attack on titan #reiner shingeki no kyojin

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carpisuns · 3 years

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am i the only one who thinks that the twitter thread (astruck's newest one) was more of him talking of the stans than the character nd her arc? because i dont think it was a statement of chloe's arc (it will just spoil stuff so and he wouldnt want to spoil so-) sorry i dont want to rant in your inbox i was just wondering if am i wrong and what you might think about it?

(twitter thread here)

That’s what I’m hoping tbh. Thomas of course wouldn’t give away big spoilers and I know he likes to troll a little sometimes lol (although that’s not what this was). When he called chloe irredeemable at the time of miracle queen I didn’t want to believe him either and I assumed he was just protecting spoilers. But...the fact that he went on such a huge rant about Chloé seems telling. From everything I’ve seen, it seems like he genuinely dislikes Chloé as a character and simply doesn’t want to redeem her because she represents a stereotypical selfish, rich brat who will never change—a type of person that Thomas appears to have a personal animosity toward (maybe because as a creator he gets too pushed around by the people with the money, like Jeremy Zag?)

I kind of get the feeling that if a Chloé redemption is planned, it’s against Thomas’s wishes lol. Or, more likely that his inclusion of an arc is reluctant because he would prefer to keep her as an antagonist as a symbol of that type of person he dislikes. He really seems to resent the fan support Chloé has gotten. Like, “I created this rich, bratty monster—you’re not supposed to like her! Why do you like her? I’ve done everything I could to make her terrible! She’s a villain!!” Haha. And I totally get the frustration about Chloé stans who say, “She’s never done anything wrong, she’s just misunderstood uwu she deserves so much better and Marinette SUCKS for not just giving her what she wants constantly”...that attitude is really frustrating/exhausting for me too lol. Yes, Chloé’s relationship with her mom is sad, but that does not excuse her terrible behavior, and when it comes to Marinette and Chloé’s relationship, Marinette is the victim, not Chloé. Redemption has to come from Chloé herself. It’s not something that can or should be granted to her by Marinette or anyone else. She has to take a good, hard look at what she’s become and consciously choose to be a better person. She has to earn her redemption on her own through consistent effort to do the right thing (not just a one-time show).

That being said, Chloé is a fictional character and has no agency, lol. If she’s going to be redeemed, the writers have to write her that way. Maybe Thomas’s comments about Chloé aren’t a reflection of his plans for her in the show, but the way he is seeming to dismiss the growth she has displayed does concern me. He also said the other day that Chloé does not genuinely care about Adrien at all—that for her, it’s all about social status (X). I keep feeling like any redemptive potential I see in Chloé is at odds with Thomas’s vision of her, so...yeah, I just don’t know anymore lol. Like, I totally get that Chloé is terrible bully who has caused sooo many problems (and the few she solves are usually ones she started) and that despite many chances given to her, she still keeps falling short. And that’s what Thomas seems to want to focus on. But like I said in my post, the handful of moments where she actually does do the right thing hold more narrative weight, because they’re different from the usual (the same way it is more significant to a story when a good character screws up). In real life, Chloé’s small moments of remorse and do-gooding would probably not amount to much, but this is a story, and their intentional inclusion means something. I’d like to believe that self-redemption is still in Chloé’s future, but I’m trusting the writers on this and keeping an open mind, and I’ll try not to be too bitter about it if it doesn’t end up happening haha.

#anon #ask #chloe bourgeois #chloe #ml meta #ml analysis #ml season 4 #Thomas astruc

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years

Text

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 9 - To Beyond (Part 1)

We’re finally here folks. After two years we’re finally at Hakone and boy is it long

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. JR stands for Japan Railway and refers to the trains operated by the company

Previous | Next

January 2nd, 7:45 a.m.

The start of the Tokyo-Hakone Round-Trip College Ekiden Race was fifteen minutes away.

After the roll call twenty minutes before the start, Prince tried to go down the subway’s pathway again. Earlier in the morning, he had been able to run on the sidewalks above ground to loosen up, but now that was impossible—there was a large crowd of people in front of the Yomiuri Shimbun’s Tokyo headquarters in Otemachi, waiting to watch the start of the Hakone Ekiden.

From the Yomiuri Shimbun’s headquarters to the Wadakura Gate along the inner moat of the Imperial Palace, the sidewalks were lined with walls of people which consisted of cheering squads from each school, staff, and Ekiden fans who were celebrating the New Year with cheerful faces. The echoing sound of drums and the school songs of each school. The colorful flags and banners in the cold wind that eddied around the buildings. The rising noise and excitement.

“Where are you going?” Kiyose, who was accompanying Prince, stopped him. “Your body’s already warmed up. What will you do if you get tired before the race starts?”

“I know, but I feel sort of uneasy when I’m not running.” Prince paced on the spot. “I didn’t think there would be so many people here.”

Kiyose never thought the day would come when he would hear the phrase “I feel uneasy when I’m not running” come out of Prince's mouth. He smiled reassuringly.

“You’ve had plenty of practice. You’ll be fine. Did you go to the bathroom?”

“Many times,” The Yomiuri Shimbun’s staff entrance was open for athletes and officials to use the restroom and change clothes in the waiting room. “It’s always crowded with the runners running in the first leg.”

“You’re not the only one who’s nervous. Don’t worry.”

He couldn't let his body be chilled by the wind. Kiyose took Prince to the back of the newspaper building. There were not many people there, and Kiyose and Prince ran lightly side by side.

The final entries, announced at 7 a.m., were posted on the wall of the building.

“Rikudou didn’t assign Fujioka-san to the second leg.”

Prince tilted his head curiously. Rikudou had put Fujioka as an alternate for the leg entry. Fujioka was the captain of his team and the best runner in Rikudou, but he hadn’t heard any rumors about him getting injured, so he wondered if he wasn’t feeling well. Each school had been paying attention, but Fujioka still wasn't announced in the final entries for the outward journey that morning.

“They probably plan on putting him in the ninth or tenth leg,” Kiyose said.

It seemed that Rikudou was trying to assess the situation carefully; it was thought that if anybody could stop them from winning again this time, it would be Bousou University. In the leg entries, Bousou had made it clear that they were taking the fight to the outward journey.

If Rikudou were to only face the elites of Bousou, the outward journey would be quite a tough battle, even for Rikudou. Perhaps the plan was to hand over the victory for the outward journey to Bousou and take the return trip and the overall victory, which was determined by the total time of the round trip. There was no doubt that Rikudou was trying to decide which leg of the return trip to put Fujioka in depending on their ranking when they reached Lake Ashi and the time difference with Bousou.

“But don’t think about Rikudou right now.” Kiyose lightly pushed Prince’s shoulder. “It’s almost time to go back to the starting point. Do you remember what I told you?”

“Yeah.” Prince nodded vigorously and took off the thick bench coat that reached his knees. The gathered spectators made way for Prince then, who was wearing Kansei’s black and silver uniform.

The cold didn’t bother him anymore. As the first runner, Prince had a sash hanging from his left shoulder—it was black with the words “Kansei University” embroidered in silver thread. The plasterer’s wife had been steadily working on it since they passed the qualifiers.

Prince gently touched the precious sash. It would connect the ten of them and return to this place tomorrow. He definitely wouldn’t let the sash be interrupted midway.

Kiyose adjusted the length of the sash and tucked the extra parts into the waistband of Prince’s shorts so that it wouldn’t get in his way when he was running.

“Prince, sorry for making you go along with us until now,” Kiyose said.

The music being played by the cheering sections grew louder. “Athletes to the starting line!” A staff member called out.

“Haiji-san, I don’t want to hear those kinds of words,” Prince laughed. “Wait for me at Tsurumi.”

Prince entrusted his coat to Kiyose and stood at the starting line along with the nineteen other people running the first leg.

It was 8 a.m. in Otemachi, Tokyo. Clear skies. 1.3 degrees Celsius. 88 percent humidity. Wind from the northwest at 1.1 meters.

For a moment, the area was completely silent, and then the starting gun sounded.

Prince started to run. There was no need to look back. Because Kansei University’s first Hakone Ekiden was only created by advancing down this road.

---

As Kiyose had predicted, the race unfolded at a leisurely pace. With Tokyo Station on the left hand side, they passed Wadakura Gate. The cheers of the spectators and the wind around the buildings tore away at their backs. As the group spread out horizontally, they moved forward along the damp road at a pace of 3 minutes and 7 seconds per kilometer. Even Prince could keep up with this.

Perhaps it was because of the wide road, but it didn’t seem like they were making much progress no matter how much they ran. Around him, he could sense people checking and restraining each other, wondering who would be the first to break out.

“Keep going slowly,” Prince recited in his mind.

The wind blowing through the gap in the buildings made the temperature feel cooler than it was. Remembering Kiyose’s advice, Prince got behind a slightly larger runner from Teitou University; it would be bad for Prince, who had a speed disadvantage, if he had to use his extra strength to secure a place. Having secured a good spot to guard against the wind, Prince concentrated on keeping up with the group.

The pace remained almost the same even after they entered the Daichi Keihin highway from the intersection at Shiba 5-chome. They passed the five kilometer mark at 15 minutes and 30 seconds.

The coaches from each school were following the runners in their coach cars. The coaches were allowed to talk to their runners over a speaker connected to a microphone at the beginning of the race, during the last kilometer, and every five kilometers. However, no coach gave instructions before the five kilometer mark; there was so much tension in the group that it was impossible to speak out carelessly.

Rikudou and Bousou were battling for the lead, but every time they tried to put on a spurt, they repeatedly got swallowed up by the group. The first leg was 21.3 kilometers long and it was only the start of the Hakone Ekiden. If you failed in putting on a spurt and got worn out here, it would trouble the runners in the following legs, and the mentality of not being able to take the plunge was swirling through the group.

Forgetting about the presence of the lead car and the TV cameras, Prince moved forward desperately, but with a composed expression on his face.

At the same time, Kiyose had just transferred to the Keihin Express after having arrived in Shinagawa from Tokyo Station on the JR line. (1) Holding Prince’s bench coat, he put the radio earphones in his ears. Picking up the sound from the TV and learning that the group hadn’t broken up yet, Kiyose let out a small shout of “Yes!” He drew attention from the passengers around him, but he couldn’t care less.

The TV announcer and commentator spoke as though they were bewildered by the slow pace.

“There has been no change in the race at all.”

“I think the stronger runners can be more aggressive and go for the record.”

“You don’t have to say unnecessary things,” Kiyose snapped without thinking. The slow pace is fine. Nobody make any moves. Run as a group for as long as you can.

His phone rang. He looked at the display and saw that it was the landlord in the coach car. Kiyose hurriedly pressed the button, wondering if Prince had begun to drop out.

“I don’t know what to do, Haiji,” the landlord said easily.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’ll be at ten kilometers soon. Should I shout something at Prince?”

“Does it look like he’s having trouble?”

Kiyose gripped his phone.

“No? He just passed Yatsuyama Bridge, but he’s holding on well. The group is still staying in a horizontal line.”

“Then you don’t have to say anything.”

The Yatsuyama Bridge was just before the eight-kilometer mark. There were gentle ups and downs as they crossed the railroad tracks on an elevated level. If they were still in a horizontal line after that, they should be able to stay like that until they reached Rokugo Bridge, the most difficult point in the first leg. Endure it, Prince. Kiyose called out in his mind.

“But what kind of coach would I be if I just sat in the car and stayed silent?” The landlord seemed bored. “It’s like I’m just driving to Hakone.”

“All you have to do is to be at the ready. If Prince is having a hard time, encourage him.”

“How? I can’t sing the school song, I’m tone deaf.”

“No coach would encourage their runners with the school song nowadays,” Kiyose sighed. “In that case, I want you to give him a message from me: ‘I have something I want to tell you. So come to Tsurumi even if you have to crawl.’”

Prince heard that message at the fifteen-kilometer mark. The landlord in the coach car, with a microphone in his hand, shouted that at him in a hoarse voice.

What do you want to tell me? Let me hear it.

His breathing was becoming more and more labored, but Prince felt inspired again. He had also been successful in receiving water, at which point he was informed by a member of the short-distance track and field team that “this kilometer was exactly three minutes.” The pace was speeding up. As expected, victory would be decided at Rokugo Bridge, which was the 17.8-kilometer mark.

After twelve kilometers, there had been a situation where the race seemed likely to move—the runner from Eurasia University had made a move and the group had stretched out vertically. However, Rikudou and Bousou had quickly followed, and the others had chased after them like they were being dragged along. Ultimately, no one dropped out of the group.

In this situation, the Rokugo Bridge would decide everything. Prince could tell that everyone tacitly understood that.

Rokugo Bridge was a large bridge over the Tama River, and it was 446.2 meters long. There was an uphill climb to reach the bridge and a downhill climb to get off the bridge. The ups and downs were physically demanding after running nearly twenty kilometers.

When he finally started to climb the slope of the Rokugo Bridge, Prince's legs suddenly became heavy; he couldn’t believe how steep the slope felt. Prince gasped and swung his arms to try to move his body forward.

At that moment, there was a change in the rhythm of the group. The breathing of the strongest runners suddenly became quiet, and right at the moment Prince realized “it's coming,” the Yokohama University runner put on a spurt. Bousou and Rikudou followed suit.

The group quickly broke apart and stretched out vertically. What stamina these guys have! Prince couldn’t do anything but stare in amazement at the growing distance between him and the rest of the group. He wanted to keep up with them, but it was impossible; as they descended Rokugo Bridge, the top group was getting faster and faster.

“Don’t rush. If you can keep up with them until Rokugo Bridge, there won’t be much of a time difference. Besides that, just think about running at your own pace.”

Kiyose’s instructions before the start of the race came back to mind.

That’s right, I just started doing track. No matter what kind of spurts other people do, I can only run with all my might.

He was already about a hundred meters away from the head of the group, but Prince didn’t give up—didn’t get pessimistic—and ran patiently.

Just started, huh? So, am I going to continue doing track? Even though I’m in so much pain because I got dragged into it.

Prince opened his mouth for oxygen and a small laugh slipped through as he exhaled.

The gentle and warm morning sun shone down on him from the front.

---

At the Tsurumi relay station, Kakeru and Musa were huddled together, looking at the screen of a portable TV—an electronics store in the shopping district had lent it to them for free.

“Oh, Prince-san has been outstripped,” Musa said sadly, staring at the TV in Kakeru’s hand like he wanted to see Prince disappearing from the screen for as long as he could.

“But there shouldn't be much time difference from the top runners.” With Prince’s heroic figure properly burned into his eyes, Kakeru looked up. “Musa-san, let’s catch up in the second leg.”

“Yes. I will do my best.”

It was about time for the first leg runners to arrive at the Tsurumi relay station. Musa took off his woolen hat and scarf. The temperature was 3.3 degrees Celsius. There was almost no wind, and it was clear, but it was still bitterly cold for Musa. He had consulted with Kakeru and decided to wear arm covers that would cover everything from his wrist to his elbow; this way, if it got too hot, he could take them off and just wear his running uniform.

“Did you drink enough water? Even if you think it’s cold, you don’t want to get dehydrated while you’re running.”

“If I drink any more water, I would have to urinate standing up while I run.”

Musa laughed. This was the first time he had used words like “urinate standing up.” “It doesn’t suit you,” Kakeru also laughed.

The voices of the announcer and commentator came from the portable TV Kakeru was holding.

“In the second leg, each school is fielding their ace or ace-level runner. Eleven out of the twenty runners can run ten-thousand meters in twenty-eight minutes. Four international students are also making their appearance here.”

“Manas from Bousou University, Iwanki from Koufu Gakuin University, Jomo from Saikyou University, and Musa from Kansei University.”

When his name was spoken, Musa and Kakeru looked at the TV. They saw themselves on the screen. They looked around in surprise and saw a TV crew approaching them from behind. Musa smiled awkwardly at the TV camera.

“Kansei’s Musa is a bit unique: he is a government-sponsored engineering student and it seems that until last year, he had no experience in track and field. Kansei is taking on Hakone with only ten runners, but most of them have no experience with track.”

“I can’t believe they were able to make it this far. It’s quite a feat.”

The screen cut to the studio, where the commentator was nodding in agreement. “They must have put a lot of effort into their training.”

“The Kansei team is rich with individuality. I am looking forward to seeing how they will perform in their first ever Hakone.”

The screen cut to a commercial and the TV crew left. Oh no, Musa seems to be getting nervous again now that he got introduced on TV, Kakeru thought.

Kakeru’s phone rang. It was from Shindou, who was at the Odawara relay station to run the fifth leg. As soon as he pressed the answer button, Kakeru passed the phone to Musa.

“Musa, you were on TV!” Shindou said. He sounded very muffled.

“How is your cold?” Musa asked worriedly, and Kakeru also leaned in to listen. Shindou had gotten a fever on New Year’s Eve and still hadn't been feeling well that morning.

“I’m fine. Are you okay, Musa? You’re probably nervous right now.”

“Yes, a little bit,” Musa answered. Could Shindou see what was going on at the Tsurumi relay station? Kakeru was stunned at the depth of the bond between Musa and Shindou.

“Hey, Musa. Think about something fun,” Shindou said in a nasal voice. “Once this is over, it’s finally New Year’s for us. I’m thinking of going home to my parents’ house during winter break. Do you want to come with me, Musa?”

“Is that okay? You’ll be spending time with your family, won’t you?”

“My parents are waiting for you to come and visit. We live in the boonies where there’s nothing, so there’s nothing to do there except building snowmen.”

“What is a ‘snowman’?”

“That’s right, you've never made one. Then, it’s settled. Let’s go back to my home together.”

“Yes,” Musa nodded. “Thank you very much, Shindou-san.”

After hanging up, Musa’s eyes showed no more hesitation or fear. The cheering along the road grew even louder—they could probably see the runners now. Kakeru and Musa approached the road.

Kiyose came running from Keikyu Tsurumi-Ichiba Station carrying a bench coat. He saw Kakeru and Musa and exhaled loudly, saying, “I made it in time?”

“Musa, how are you feeling?”

“I am feeling good,” Musa assured them strongly. Kiyose checked his expression and his shoelaces, and made sure there was nothing out of place.

“Good. Prince will probably come here in last place. But don’t get shaken by that and just run as usual.”

“If we are in last place, then I will feel better, because we cannot get any worse than that,” Musa joked. “Besides, I am more comfortable chasing than being chased.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kakeru said, accepting Musa’s bench coat.

The Rikudou runner arrived at the Tsurumi relay station in the lead. The relay station was set up in front of a police box along Route 1—it was a nondescript tree-lined street, and since it was straight and level, one could clearly see the runners arriving one after the other.

The staff member who received the message hurriedly called out the school names. The runners of the first leg came in that order, so runners of the second leg went to the relay line to wait for their teammates.

Rikudou’s sash was relayed from the first-leg to the second-leg runner. His time was one hour four minutes and thirty-six seconds from the start at Otemachi. After him came Yokohama, Bousou, and Eurasia, handing over their sashes in that order with almost no time difference. It was a very close race, as the runners had been clustered together until the end.

Musa bent down. Kakeru leaned out into the road. One after another, the runners of the first leg came and handed over their sashes, and the runners of the second leg ran out of the Tsurumi relay station. There was still no sign of Prince. It was thirty seconds since Rikudou had passed.

“It’s Prince-san!”

In the shadow of the competition cars, they saw Prince, running with his teeth clenched. The staff member was calling out the names of the schools that were still at the relay station at the same time. “I am going,” Musa said. He stepped out onto the road and stood on the relay line.

Musa turned towards Prince and raised his hand. Prince was running desperately while swinging his arms, but when he noticed Musa’s figure, as though remembering, he removed his sash from his shoulder. The elastic waistband of his shorts snapped lightly against his side as though to scold him.

Just a little more, just a little more.

“Prince-san! Prince-san!”

Musa and Kakeru were shouting. Kiyose was standing next to Kakeru, waiting patiently for Prince to arrive.

After crossing the relay line, Prince put the sash he had been gripping in Musa’s hand as Musa began to run. The sash connected the two of them for a moment, and then it quickly slipped through Prince’s fingertips.

My heart hurts. I can’t even keep my eyes open. I wonder if this wild breathing belongs to me?

Prince stopped and pitched forward, almost falling, but then realized he was caught in someone’s arms.

“I take back what I said to you at Otemachi,” Kiyose’s voice was right next to him. “I wanted to say this to you: Thank you for coming all the way here with us.”

“You passed,” Prince muttered.

Kakeru and Kiyose took the Keihin Express to Yokohama and then the JR to Odawara. Since they were short of hands, they planned to go on ahead to Lake Ashi and meet with Shindou, who was running the fifth leg.

They were worried about leaving the exhausted Prince at the Tsurumi relay station, but Prince told them this:

“You two, just leave me behind and go to Hakone. I already finished running. When I can walk again, I’ll go to the hotel on my own.”

Prince had the role of keeping track of the race on TV in a hotel near Yokohama Station. Kiyose and Kakeru were also planning on returning from Hakone that night and staying in the same hotel to prepare for tomorrow’s race.

After rehydrating, Prince managed to get up, so Kakeru and Kiyose left the Tsurumi relay station.

The bench coat Kiyose had brought from Otemachi was once again being worn by Prince. Now, Kakeru was carrying Musa’s bench coat. Shindou would be wearing it after his climb. If they just barely had enough manpower, they also just barely had enough clothing.

On the second day of January, the seats on the Tokaido Line were almost all filled with people running after the Hakone Ekiden and families who seemed to be going for the first shrine visit of the New Year. Kakeru spotted an empty box seat and sat Kiyose in it. Kiyose took out a notepad and ballpoint pen from the pocket of his bench coat.

“Prince’s time?”

“One hour five minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Kakeru answered after checking with the stopwatch function on his watch. Kiyose wrote down the data on the notepad.

“The time difference with Doujidou University, which was right in front of us, is eleven seconds. The difference with Rikudou, which is in the top position, is one minute and one second. We still have plenty of chances. Prince fought bravely.”

Kansei’s sash was handed over from Prince to Musa at the Tsurumi relay station, and they were in twentieth place out of the twenty teams competing. The Kanto Athletic Union’s selected team, which was made up of runners who had participated in the qualifiers, would use the individual times of each runner as an official record, but wouldn’t enter the rankings as a team. Therefore, Kansei was ranked nineteenth, but when they finished running the first leg, they were still unmistakably in last place in both name and reality.

But Kiyose was right: it was a time difference that could be overturned. The slow-paced development was a blessing for Prince and Kansei. The race had only just begun.

Kakeru was carrying the portable TV, but reception in the train was bad. “Try this one,” Kiyose told him, and gave him the radio. Right when he was twisting the knobs to try to get sound, Kiyose’s phone got a message. It was from King in the Totsuka relay station, who was with Jouta, the one running the third leg.

“Haiji, we’ve got a big problem! Look at the TV!”

“I can’t,” Kiyose said.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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potrix-the-queerschlaeger · 3 years

Text

too fast for love

Technically a sequel to this and this, but can totally be read as a sexy-fluffy standalone. And it’s also over on AO3.

- - -

It became a ritual after Sam returned home from Afghanistan, filled with overwhelming misery and crippling grief, and too jittery with the pressure of it most days to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. AJ and Cass had been so young, back then, a teething toddler who barely remembered his uncle, and a baby small enough that Sam had constantly been afraid of accidentally squishing him, somehow.

Which hadn’t stopped Sarah from pushing them into his arms with a cheery, “How about some time with Uncle Sammy, boys?” and absolutely no regard for Sam’s fumbling and sputtering.

He’d resented her for it, at times. For having the boys, and someone to raise them with, while Sam hadn’t even been able to bring Riley home to bury him. For making him be part of her happy little family, for engaging him and involving him in their daily lives. And even for being stronger than him, later on, for not falling apart completely, when Caleb had had the accident and made her a widow.

It still fills him with shame and guilt, even today, to think about those months. Because Sam knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if it hadn’t been for his sister, he wouldn’t be here today.

He would have given up.

But Sarah hadn’t let him. She’d always been the more stubborn one, out of the two of them.

(Watch out for the break!)

And so Sam had gone out on the boat with Caleb, had helped out at the restaurant, and had looked after the boys for them. He’d changed poopy diapers, endured tantrums, argued with a sassy two-year-old, and had realised, eventually, how much he loved it.

Loved it, and needed it.

Evenings had always been his favourite. He’d been perpetually exhausted those days, awake most nights to avoid the nightmares he knew would find him if he closed his eyes, and it had always been the worst during the evenings, when things started to calm down and settle. And the boys, however young they’d been, must have felt it, too, because in the evenings, they were content to curl up with Sam on the couch, watching him with big, curious eyes while Sam read to them.

And, somehow, they’d just never stopped.

They’re too old to want to be tucked in by their uncle every night, now, but whenever Sam’s home for a stretch of time, they’ll eventually fall back into their comfortable, practiced routine. The books have changed, from ones with few words and colourful pictures to novels about pirates and treasures, but they still sprawl all over Sam with their pointy elbows, bickering over the best spot until Sam makes them shriek with laughter by threatening to dump them on the floor.

Sam is simultaneously surprised, and not surprised at all, by how seamlessly Bucky fits into all of it. As if there had always been this space, reserved and waiting just for him, ready to be filled with snarky remarks and soft, eye-crinkling smiles alike.

He’s leaning in the doorway of the boys’ room, watching them puzzle over their newest Lego set with Bucky. It looks like it’s got about a million tiny little pieces he will undoubtedly step on at some point, and Sam’s honestly kind of relieved that Bucky seems to be genuinely enjoying the whole building process, because he’s not sure he’d have the patience for it.

Cass is still sorting pieces into piles, despite his drooping eyes, but AJ is mostly leaning against Buck, yawning every so often as he squints down at the instructions. They’d insisted they wanted Bucky, tonight, high-fiving and grinning at each other when Sarah had given them the okay, nearly tripping over each other in their hurry to get upstairs and into their PJs.

“Looks like your stuck with the dishes, buddy,” Bucky had said, all fake sympathy, before he’d winked at Sam, and followed the boys with a shouted, “An’ don’t forget to brush your teeth!”

“Look at you, all smitten,” Sarah had teased, and only laughed at him when Sam had forced the undoubtedly sappy smile off his face to glare at her. “Now go grab a towel.”

AJ slumps a little more against Bucky, not even pretending to read anymore. Bucky strokes a hand over his head, and glances up at Sam, brows raised in question.

“All right, monsters,” Sam says, stepping into the room, “time for bed.”

The boys are tired enough that they don’t even put up much of a protest, crawling under the covers while Sam turns off the overhead light, and Bucky turns on the star projector. Bucky gets sleepy fistbumps from them both, then leaves Sam to say good night in peace.

AJ is already mostly asleep, only murmuring quietly when Sam kisses the top of his head, but Cass tugs at his sleeve until Sam perches on the edge of his bed. He pillows his head on Sam’s thigh with a happy little sigh, making Sam chuckle softly, and gently scratch his fingers through his hair until his breaths even out.

Bucky’s fresh out of the shower when Sam gets up to his attic bedroom, towel slung around his hips and hair still wet. He comes readily when Sam reaches for him, tucking himself against Sam, and humming contentedly when Sam runs his hands up and down his back.

“You’re good with them,” Sam tells him, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder, right over the connection between metal and flesh, “Uncle Bucky.”

Sam can feel Bucky smile against the side of his head. “They’re good kids,” he murmurs back, arms winding around Sam’s waist.

“I’m surprised they didn’t make you read to them, though,” Sam muses. He opens his mouth against Bucky’s neck, just to feel him shiver, and threads his fingers into the short hair at the back of his head. “Only a few chapters left in this one. They’ve been bugging me for two chapters most nights.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, pulling back. His face is open, eyes half-lidded, and mouth soft with a half-smile. “Readin’ with them, ‘s your thing.”

Sam marvels, sometimes, at just how good Bucky is at reading people. Sam never told him any of this, yet here Bucky is, knowing it anyway, and going out of his way to find his own special thing to do with the boys.

Being considerate. Being downright sweet.

It’s tempting, to say it right then. To tell Bucky. But it’s too soon for something so big, so important, so Sam swallows the words back down, and kisses Bucky instead.

Watching Bucky come undone beneath him is something Sam will absolutely never get tired of.

It’s intimate, a privilege, to be allowed to see Bucky like this, unguarded and trusting. There’s a watchfulness that’s been beaten into him, in the army and under HYDRA, that Bucky’s never quite been able to shake again. It’s most pronounced on missions, during fights, where Bucky’s unwavering awareness of their surroundings has saved both their asses on multiple occasions.

At home, here in Delacroix, he’s different. To most people, he probably looks relaxed, at ease, but Sam knows better. Sure, yeah, Bucky isn’t constantly on high alert, lets himself be a person instead of a soldier, but that doesn’t magically erase decades of training and torture that have become instinct.

And that instinct shows, in small ways, every day.

The neighbourhood adores Bucky, and Sam is unspeakably grateful to them for bringing him into the fold without questions or judgement, but whenever they’re delighted because Bucky remembers a birthday or some other special occasion, Sam worries. Because Bucky’s genuine with his well-wishes and kindness, but the reason he knows what he knows isn’t the town gossip or new friendships he’s struck up, it’s hours upon hours of research and observation to ensure there isn’t any sort of threat hiding out in plain sight.

There hasn’t been a single broken glass or plate in the house since Bucky’s been staying with them. He always knows exactly where the boys are, if they’re playing outside, and he’s got Sarah’s work schedule memorised down to the minute.

And at times, mostly after particularly bad nights, he can barely let Sam out of his sight.

Bucky has been without control over anything for so long, it’s become something he’s borderline obsessive about, now. They don’t talk about it much, but Sam knows Bucky’s working on it with his new therapist; on sitting back, on letting others be in charge, of themselves and of him, when it’s necessary.

On letting himself be taken care of.

“Sam,” Bucky says, voice hoarse, pulling Sam back out of his own head. “Sam, please.”

“Sorry, baby,” Sam murmurs, and leans down to brush a kiss over Bucky’s slack mouth. “I’m right here, I got you.”

He gives a shallow thrust of his hips that has Bucky moan softly, eyes fluttering, and brushes some of the sweaty hair away from Bucky’s forehead. He kisses the soft skin under Bucky’s left eye as he begins to move again, slow but steady, one hand cupping Bucky’s cheek, and the other trailing teasingly down his chest, lower and lower.

Bucky’s breath hitches when Sam’s hand curls around his straining cock, then he groans low in his throat when Sam starts stroking him in time with his thrusts.

“Ssh, baby, it’s okay.” Sam kisses his cheek, chuckling softly when Bucky turns his head with a whine, demanding more. “I got you, you’re okay. Let go for me, baby.”

He kisses Bucky, properly, and flicks his thumb over the head of Bucky’s cock the next time he pushes in. Bucky’s quiet as he comes, going tense for a long moment, fingers digging into Sam’s back, before he shudders all over, and melts back into the mattress.

“That’s it,” Sam praises, working him through it. “That’s it, baby, that’s perfect.”

He moves to sit back when Bucky’s cock starts to go soft in his hand, and takes a moment to just look, to appreciate. Bucky’s eyes are glassy and damp, his lips red and swollen. He’s got his arms stretched out loosely over his head, fingers twitching absently every now and again, and there’s evidence of his orgasm from his navel up to his chest, a few drops dangerously close to one pebbled nipple.

He looks obscene. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and Sam’s so fucking in love with this man, it’s unreal.

But he knows better than to say as much with his dick still hard inside Bucky, so he settles his hands on Bucky’s hips, and asks, “Okay?”

It takes Bucky a few seconds of blissed-out staring to respond, but then he nods, and rasps out, “Yeah, c’mon.”

Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. He tightens his grip, and starts thrusting again, faster now, chasing his own release. Bucky’s making the most beautiful sounds for him, breathless little ahs with each of Sam’s pushes, back arching, tongue dipping out to lick his bottom lip—

“Shit, Bucky,” Sam curses when he comes, collapsing forward, onto Bucky’s chest. He tucks his face into Bucky’s neck, panting, as Bucky wraps an arm around him, squeezing him. “Gonna kill me, one of these days.”

Bucky’s chuckling as he rolls them over, ignoring Sam’s half-hearted complaints, and lowers himself down to bring their mouths together. They make out unhurriedly, hands roaming lazily, until Sam has to pull away to yawn.

They’re sticky and gross, and Sam’s definitely going to bitch about it tomorrow, but he lets Bucky tug the covers up over them anyway. He grunts at the manhandling when Bucky rolls him over onto his side to spoon up behind him, but lets Bucky take his hand, and link their fingers together.

He falls asleep to the steady, familiar rhythm of Bucky’s breathing.

The temptation to dropkick the guy with the weird, glowy spear right off the roof is really fucking hard to ignore, what with Bucky’s blood still dripping from the thing’s tip. At least the guy looks suitably terrified as Sam stalks towards him, looking up at Sam with wide eyes as he clutches at the bullethole in his shoulder.

Because of course Bucky still manages to shoot someone while he’s in the process of falling off a goddamn three-story building.

Sam has to shake his head against the memory of the sound it had made, the sickening crunch, when Bucky’d hit the ground, of Bucky’s pain-filled scream in his ear right before the comms had gone quiet. He ignores whatever the guy is saying as he kicks away the spear and cuffs him, a little rougher about it than strictly necessary, and takes off as soon as the first SWORD chopper comes into view.

“Torres—”

“We’re in an ambulance, heading West,” Torres answers immediately, “they’re taking him to St Anna’s.”

Swooping higher, Sam finally spots the ambulance’s flashing lights in the distance. “I see you.”

Torres doesn’t say anything else, but he keeps the connection open for Sam. The medics don’t say much, too busy stabilising Bucky, but being able to hear them work—knowing that they’re not giving up on him—is the only thing keeping Sam sane right now.

People part for him like the Red Sea as he storms into the emergency room, and for once, he’s glad to be recognisable when a nurse approaches him with a nod, and a brisque, “Follow me, Captain.”

He’s led to an empty room and given a set of scrubs to change into, which he accepts gratefully. The nurse quirks an apologetic smile at him when he asks about Bucky.

“He’s in surgery right now,” the man, Alexei, tells him, voice full of sympathy. “His right lung was punctured, but at the moment, they’re more worried about potential spinal injuries. Sergeant Barnes was unresponsive when he arrived, but his vitals looked promising, given the circumstances.”

“That’s—okay, yeah.” Sam scrubs trembling hands over his face, taking a few deep breaths. “Thank you.”

Alexei inclines his head with another kind smile. “I’ll let you know the moment there are any new developments.”

Sam’s just changed into the scrubs when there’s a knock on the door, and Torres peeks his head in. He slips inside when he spots Sam, closing it quietly behind himself.

There’s blood all over him, from his neck down to his waist, but most of it on his arms and hands. He’s pale, and trembling, and Sam has pulled him into a tight, bruising hug before he’s even consciously aware of having crossed the room.

Torres grips him back just as hard for several long moments, before he steps back with a wet, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I tried to help, to stop the bleeding, but there was so much blood everywhere—”

“It’s not your fault, kid,” Sam cuts in, gentle but firm. He reaches out to squeeze Torres’ shoulders, giving him a little shake. “You hear me? You did everything you were supposed to do, Lieutenant.”

He sends Torres’ off to go clean up in the small ensuite while he goes to find another set of scrubs. While he’s at it, Sam detours to the first snack machine he sees, and buys the most sugary things he can find. He can feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, now that he’s not pumped full of adrenalin anymore, but he refuses to crash.

Not before he knows that Bucky’s okay.

They wait for what feels like hours, sitting next to each other on surprisingly comfortable chairs back in their room, snacking on their candy. Alexei comes by every so often, though he can’t tell them much. Torres’ nods off eventually, slumped against Sam’s side, but Sam stays awake, watching the door.

He still jumps when it finally opens, startling Torres awake as well. They both stand as Bucky is wheeled into the room, followed by a woman who must be the surgeon. She explains the procedure and Bucky’s injuries, but Sam’s brain shuts her out as soon as he hears that Bucky’s out of the woods.

It’s definitely rude, but Sam doesn’t currently have the mental capacity to care. All he can focus on is Bucky. Bucky’s ashen face, and the dark circles under his closed eyes. The coolness of his skin, when Sam takes his hand to press a lingering kiss to the back of it.

He doesn’t notice Alexei and the doctor leaving, or Torres moving closer. Not until Torres tentatively touches his side to guide him into one of the chairs he’s dragged over.

It’s early morning, Torres asleep on the floor this time, when Bucky’s fingers curl around Sam’s, holding on weakly. Sam lets himself cry, then.

“I love you,” he thinks, clutching Bucky’s hand like a lifeline. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Fuck, shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Sam swears as he sprints across the hall, the hardwood floor way too cold under his feet. “First thing we’re getting is a rug.”

It won’t technically be the first thing they buy, since they’ve already ordered some more furniture online, but it’s too early in the morning for semantics. The point is, the heat hasn’t been turned on yet in their new house, which hadn’t been as much of a problem last night with a human-shaped furnace under the covers with him, but seems like a pretty severe oversight right about now.

The noise Sam makes when an arm sneaks around him from behind, lifting him up and depositing him on a stool at the breakfast bar, definitely isn’t anywhere close to a squeak. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, man?”

Bucky drops a kiss on his shoulder before he moves back to the stove, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What, that’s the thanks I get for savin’ your poor feet from frostbite?”

“Well, thank you, honey,” Sam says sweetly, making sure his words are dripping with sarcasm, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Bucky puts a steaming plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. “Damn right, you wouldn’t,” he preens, waggling his eyebrows, and kisses Sam’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Sam says, a couple of minutes later, genuine this time. He lifts up a forkful of perfectly soft, cheesy eggs when Bucky raises a brow at him. “These are good.”

Bucky just smiles, and hooks his foot around Sam’s. But then the smile turns wider, suddenly, brighter, until he’s laughing quietly, and shaking his head.

“What?” Sam asks, and knocks their knees together when Bucky just keeps giggling, all excited and giddy. “Come on, Buck, what?”

“We got a house,” Bucky manages eventually, biting his lip, though his eyes are still crinkled happily. “Sam, we own a house. Together. For real.”

Warmth blooms in Sam’s chest at that, and he just has to reach out and grasp Bucky’s free hand. “Yeah,” he says, unable not to smile back. “Yeah, we do.”

“Fuckin’ right,” Bucky cheers, which has Sam laughing in turn. He stops abruptly, though, when the next words out of Bucky’s mouth are, “I love you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sam groans, and throws his hands up in the air. “Are you kidding me? For months I’ve been trying to find the right moment. The perfect moment. I was gonna make it romantic, woo the shit out of you. And you just—”

“Sam, sweetheart.” Bucky sounds amused, mostly, but there’s so much affection there as well, in the soft lines around his eyes, and the way he’s sweeping his metal thumb across the back of Sam’s hand, slow and steady. “I fuckin’ love you, you shithead. An’ I said it first, so, ya know. Deal with it.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” Sam says, without heat, even as he uses their joint hands to tug Bucky towards him across the bar. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“Yeah,” Bucky hums, leaning in close, “I really am. Now shut up, and kiss me, Samuel.”

And for once, Sam sees no reason to argue, and does just that.

#winterfalcon #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #pov sam wilson #light angst #fluff #smut #love confessions #myfics

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nomazee · 4 years

Text

Komorebi (5)

komorebi, p.5

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

(THIS IS A DAY LATE IM SORRY school is really kicking me in the cooch rn but i got it out as soon as i can!! this chapter’s a little longer (still very short gjsfhgjadhf) but!! the next chapter will be the last!!! i’m very excited i hope you guys are too :)))

after im done with this series (which will be in the next week hopefully!!) i’m gonna do my 200 follower celebration!! i have a basic idea of what i’m gonna do and i’ll talk about details soon :)

thank you for all the support on this series it really makes me happy!! the last chapter got 100+ notes and like,,,,wow GSHGSLNO enjoy this chapter!!)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Tsukishima wishes you’d get angry at him.

It’s the one moment in his life where he prefers noise over silence. It’s unfortunate that he won’t get the former and is instead stuck with the ironically deafening presence of the latter.

You’re quiet. So, so quiet. He’s recognized this change before but as days pass it gets harder for him to handle. He misses your eyes. He wants to see the way the ring around your iris changes color with the angle of the sunlight. He wants to hear the charm of your backpack jingle with every bouncy step you take. He wants to see the open gaps left in your messily-knit cardigan—and at moments when he drowns deeper in his head, he realizes he wants his hands to slip under the fabric of that cardigan and wrap around your shoulders and pull your form tightly to his.

Tsukishima Kei is a greedy man. But only for you.

He suppresses a gag at the cheesy thought as he sits in his Modern Literature class. Yamaguchi sits at the seat next to him, sneaking discreet glances that aren’t so discreet. He knows that his friend is aching to interrogate him, just like he’s tried every day for a week so far. (Tsukishima winces at the thought that it’s been a week since you left the tea and pastry on his desk.)

Speaking of tea and pastries. You don’t seem to be letting up with the gifts. It only makes his chest hurt more, the fact that you can’t use words anymore when you used to be so good at filling up empty space with random chatter. Now you’re reduced to leaving treats semi-anonymously on his desk, things you haven’t made for him before and only now, at one of Tsukishima’s many low points in life, you’re deciding to flood him with these items as some odd form of reconciliation.

(He calls it reconciliation to make the weight on his shoulders feel a little bit lighter. He understands, reluctantly, that it’s his responsibility to try his hand at this whole “making up” thing.)

Anyways. Modern Literature. His brain keeps getting sidetracked and it proves to be detrimental as the teacher dismisses the class for lunch and he realizes that less than half of the worksheet he’s been assigned is finished. He’s gotten as far as writing his name down, and doing the first two questions. The date isn’t filled out and neither is the class period. Tsukishima sighs, and stands up to hand in his paper, ignoring the way the teacher scans through it and gives him a hesitant look at the uncharacteristic work (or lack thereof).

Yamaguchi watches the wordless interaction from the doorway, initially waiting to walk to the cafeteria with Tsukishima but deciding against it as his blonde friend gives him a look that tells him to go ahead. He sighs. He should really get things together, Yamaguchi thinks. Tsukki’s never really been one to slack off during school like that.

As Yamaguchi leaves for lunch, Tsukishima sits through his teacher’s mundane spiel about keeping up with the work in class. He feels irritated and all the events that have happened in the last two weeks push at his head to try and convince him to just let all of this out, but he restrains himself. He’s already caught up with you—no help will come from finding himself in trouble with a teacher.

At one point, the teacher notices his distant look and gives off a sigh of disappointment. She shakes her head and stands from her chair. “I hope this is just an off day, Tsukishima. I expect you to be back to normal soon.”

Tsukishima, for once in his life, has trouble pushing down the simmering anger that rises slowly to the tips of his fingers. He wants to yell, wants to hit the desk and shout and cry and fall to his knees and go to sleep all at once. He just wants to let go.

He doesn’t, obviously. Internally conflicted as he is, he’d like to maintain some sort of composure in front of his middle-aged teacher. He wonders, though, if maybe this is how you’ve been feeling over the last few weeks.

As the teacher walks out of the room, no more biting words left to give Tsukishima, he stands still at the front of the classroom, pulling at his fingers for a few moments as he gives himself time to calm down. There’s a lot going on in his head. He’s not sure which problem to address first.

Stepping back to his desk, he takes out his wrapped bento and makes a move to leave the classroom. He hears footsteps, though, and as the figure becomes clear at the entryway he wonders if even thinking about you was a total mistake.

You’re there. In the doorway of the classroom. There’s a box in your hand, one of the white ones that you always use to pack dozens of pastries in, but this one’s smaller, more personal. On top of it, there’s a friendship bracelet—navy, blue, and white, all threaded in a chevron pattern.

His eyes flit up to meet yours. He hates the expression in your face. You look scared. Tsukishima dreads the fact that his mere presence could make you look scared.

Your lips are parted, but no words come out—it doesn’t seem like you really intend to say anything in the first place. Tsukishima does intend to say something. He wants to say something, knows that he should, that he has to. But Tsukishima Kei does not know all five-hundred-thousand words in the Japanese language, and he thinks that even if he did, he still wouldn’t know what to say to you.

Not now. Not here when you’re standing in the classroom doorway with gifts in your hands that he knows you planned on giving him, just like every other day in the last week, looking up at him like you’re terrified to even interact with the likes of him.

Tsukishima’s mind comes back to the present. Your mouth is closed, now, and you sniffle a bit in habit before making a complete turn in the doorway and scurrying out.

Your footsteps are rapid, quickly getting quiet as you make your way down the hall. Away from him.

He wants to cry. He hates crying—doesn’t remember the last time he’s done it, and doesn’t want to remember what it feels like. But it seems like every passing day gives him yet another reason to finally feel the tears and snot streaking down his face.

Tsukishima Kei does not eat lunch that day.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x you #kei x you #kei x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x you #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x you

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horansqueen · 4 years

Text

Stuck With You - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: I Really Like You

🡪chapter 1 🡪chapter 2 🡪chapter 3 🡪chapter 4 🡪chapter 5 🡪chapter 6 🡪chapter 7 🡪chapter 8 🡪chapter 9 🡪chapter 10 🡪chapter 11 🡪chapter 12 🡪chapter 13

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

I really wanna stop, but I just got the taste for it I feel like I could fly with the boy on the moon So, honey, hold my hand, you like making me wait for it I feel like I could die walking up to the room, oh yeah

It's way too soon, I know this isn't love

I really, really, really, really, really, really like you And I want you, do you want me, do you want me, too? I really, really, really, really, really, really like you And I want you, do you want me, do you want me, too?

It's like everything you say is a sweet revelation All I wanna do is get into your head Yeah, we could stay alone, you and me in this temptation Sipping on your lips, hanging on by thread, baby

Who gave you eyes like that? Said you could keep them I don't know how to act Or if I should be leaving I'm running out of time Going out of my mind I need to tell you something

click here to be on the update list

The text message I got of Niall telling me to join him to his car made something stir in my stomach. I rushed to the bathroom to look at myself one last time in the mirror, getting on my tiptoe and pulling on my shirt slightly before quickly running out of the building. I heard the honk of a car and it made my heart jump so high in my chest that I thought I was about to throw it up. It's only when I got closer that I noticed he was not alone. There was a guy in the backseat, and the girl sitting nesxt to Niall was the same girl I found laying beneath him the other day. My smile faltered and I suddenly felt nervous but Niall moved his upper body closer to the wheel to look at me by the window.

"Hey Devie, you ready?"

I glanced at Mandy before looking back at him, sending him a shy smile. I hadn't expected to be stuck in Niall's car with two strangers but I was new to this school and if I wanted to get to know people, I knew I had to make efforts.

"Mmhm." I replied, taking a seat next to the guy who sent me a short nod.

"Okay, so. Devon, this is Mandy and her brother, Noah."

Mandy quickly turned around to take a look at me and sent me a smile. "We've met." she pointed out with a chuckle. "Sorry for the other day, I was a bit embarrassed to be caught naked."

My lips parted slightly and my breath caught in my throat. I sort of expected her to be an ass with me but the sincere smile she was sending me made me feel slightly guilty for thinking wrong of her just because she slept with Niall.

"No, it's cool, I should have knocked."

She laughed again, turning to look at Niall. "No, it's your room too." she corrected me. "It's Niall's fault, he should have told you."

"Sure, go ahead, pin it on me, i've got broad shoulders." he chuckled, glancing at her and making my heart drop in my chest.

Did he ever look at me like that? Was that feelings I saw in his eyes? And why did it even matter if he had feelings for her? I looked down and licked my lips, coming to the realization that it mattered because I liked Niall. I really really really liked Niall. Fuck.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Niall." Mandy joked, tapping his thigh gently. "You're forgiven, right Dev?"

I looked up and blinked a few times when she said my name and pressed my lips together. She was sending me an amused smile and I tried to smile back at her.

"O-Of course."

I felt something stir in my stomach and my eyes met Niall's in his rearview mirror. His gaze changed slowly into a fond look and my lips curled slightly more until he blinked a few times and glanced down. I looked down too only to see Mandy's hand gripping his thigh a bit harder. She moved one of her legs up, putting her foot on the bench before leaning her head against the bench, still looking at him.

She was pretty. She was much prettier than I always would be and I was well aware of that, and I just closed my eyes, trying to think about something else.

"So Devon. " I heard, making my eyes flutter open again. "What are you studying in?"

I turned to look at Noah and sent him a small smile. "Oh, art." I replied in a low tone. "Mostly painting and drawing."

"So, you want to be a painter? That's bold." Noah replied, running his hand in his blonde hair. "I'm all for following your dreams but do you have a plan B?"

"Yea, I'd like to work in a museum, maybe. Restoring historical works of art seems... very amazing." I explain, a bigger smile appearing on my lips.

"Devon doesn't need a plan B." Niall quickly replied, glancing again in his mirror. "She's super talented, she'll be a famous painter someday."

I felt my heart jump again in my chest and pressed my lips together as I tried not to smile too much. It was a bit funny since I was pretty sure Niall had never seen anything I had painted before, but I still appreciated the comment for a reason I ignored. Perhaps because it showed that he was not totally indifferent to me and knowing that he was ready to defend me on something like that made me feel special.

Of course, I knew that concretely, Noah was right : I would probably not end up being a famous painter and certainly wouldn't be able to live a decent life with the money of a few (if even) paintings sold, but it was okay, because I didn't want my biggest passion to turn into a job. I wanted it to remain a passion and a hobby, something I could do to let out all my feelings, something that would make me feel better after a long day or after a heartbreak. I needed painting like I needed to breathe and I didn't want to end up hating it. Obviously, sometimes it was frustrating when I wanted to pain something and it didn't turn out exactly how I had imagined, but It was different than making a job out of it and disliking it to the point of not wanting to do it anymore. If I lost my passion for painting, I knew I would lose a part of me.

It only took a minute of two before Niall parked his car and we quickly got out. I followed them to the entrance and we hopped in an elevator to reach the fourth floor. We could hear the music from the hall and I started feeling so nervous I had to wipe my hands on the back of my jeans. When I looked up, I met Niall's gaze who frowned as he mouthed 'are you okay?' and I just nodded, sending him a small smile.

I was not really okay but at the same time, i didn't want him to feel like he had to take care of me, scared that he'd never invite me again. The only thing that made me feel better was to notice that Mandy and Niall were not holding hands, or even remotely close to each other. I sort of had expected it but realizing I was wrong made me feel less stupid for accepting to go to this party.

The door opened and a whiff of cigarette and weed smell reached us. I was too busy staring at the guy in front of us, a large smile on his lips, as he greeted us with open arms.

"Niall!"

"Hey, Lewis."

They hugged and when Niall pulled away, Lewis turned to me. I didn't know why but I sent him a smile as his lips curled slightly into a smirk. "Devon, it's nice to meet you."

I frowned, a bit surprised that he knew my name, but kept a smile on my lips. Niall probably had talked about me before and since I was most likely the only one he didn't know, he probably guessed it was me, but it was still a bit intriguing.

"Oh, uhm, you too."

I was about to hold out my hand but he took a step closer and pulled me into a hug. His hoodie smelled nice and I chuckled, hugging him back.

"Okay, free drinks in the kitchen." Lewis let out when he pulled away. "You smoke your own shit though I don't pay for that."

Niall walked past him, putting his hand on Lewis' cheek and tapping it gently. "How nice of you mate."

I followed Niall to the kitchen and realized Noah and Mandy had left. I stood behind him as he searched for something specific (or it seemed) and when he turned around to me again, his gaze met mine immediately.

"No best way to get drunk than with vodka."

I chuckled and frowned, finding some space on the counter and pushing myself up to sit on it. Niall's smile faltered a bit and his eyes roamed on me before turning around to grab glasses and filled them. He walked closer to me and I looked slightly down at him, taking the cup he was handing me. He clinked his glass against mine, the plastic of his barely making any sound as it hit mine, and took a long sip. I watched him and did the same, grimacing as the liquor left a burning sensation down my throat.

"So. uhm, are you moving out?" he asked casually before drinking more from his glass.

"I tried but I'm on a waiting list, sorry."

"No, no I think you should stay."

I waited until his eyes met mine and quickly, he shrugged and looked away. "I mean, we can just text each other when we have someone over. I'm sure it can work."

I felt my heart ache suddenly and lost my smile, looking down in my glass and shrugging a shoulder. What did I expect? Niall was clearly not going to admit he was in love with me and then tell me he'd never have sex with any other girl because he loved me too much! Then why did this scenario made my heart thump in my chest?

"Maybe. I don't know."

We remained silent for a few seconds and I felt him move closer to me, his lower stomach brushing slightly against my knees as a wave of warmth invaded me.

"Come on, I'll present you some people if you want."

"Mmhm."

He moved away and I jumped off the counter as an idea popped into my head. It was stupid and probably impossible but It was worth a try.

"Niall?" I asked, making him turn around and raise his eyebrows. "Maybe... your friend Lewis would need a roommate?"

His facial expression changed from confused to surprised but when his lips opened again, I couldn't really tell how he felt about my idea. It was probably a bad one anyway. I didn't know Lewis much and I was not even sure I could afford half of the rent, but if Niall wanted to get rid of me, maybe he could help me see if it was even remotely possible.

"Y-You want to live here? With Lewis?"

I shrugged as he took a step closer to me and I tilted my head. "I mean, maybe? It would be a solution. Just until they find a room for me in the girls' building. That way you can get your room back."

"But I don't-" he replied quickly, cutting himself and letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. "I think it's a bad idea, Dev."

It took a few seconds but he opened his eyes back. They met mine and I sent him a sad smile, shrugging a shoulder. "Alright."

It was true, I didn't know much about his friend, but he gave me a good first impression and I thought Niall would jump on the occasion to get his room back if only to be able to invite Mandy (or any other girl) whenever he wanted to.

I followed him to the living room as someone handed me a beer and everyone started talking. After a while, I got up and left to go to the bathroom and when I got out, I walked past Lewis, sending him a small smile.

"Thanks for inviting me, by the way." I let out politely as I kept walking.

"Hey Devon!"

I turned around and he sent me a bigger smile. "You having fun?" he asked, his accent thicker than I expected.

"Oh, yes." I let out with a smile. "I'm surprised Niall invited me."

This time, Lewis laughed a bit. "I'm not."

I frowned for half a second and finally licked my lips, walking back slowly to him and shaking my head. "Look, this is going to sound so weird and, don't feel bad to say no but, wouldn't you be looking for a roommate?"

His smile fell slightly and his eyes roamed on my face, and it made me realize that he was quite pretty and I was not sure how I felt about it. He seemed a bit speechless though and I realized that I probably made him uncomfortable.

"Forget it," I added, shaking my head, taking a step back. "It was just something that crossed my mind."

"No, Devon, it's just..." he replied with a sigh as I was leaving. "Let's just say if I said yes, Niall would kill me."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, shaking my head a bit. "I highly doubt that."

"Dev, trust me. I know what I'm talking about."

I frowned and it only made his lips curl as he raised his eyebrows before turning around and locking himself in the bathroom. I remained there, motionless and lost in my thoughts for a few seconds, and finally breathed in deeply and walked back to the living room. This time, I stopped completely breathing when I noticed Mandy was sitting next to Niall, her legs placed on his lap and one of her arms wrapped around one of his.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me but swallowed hard. I knew it was only jealousy but it was enough to make me want to leave immediately. I licked my lips and took big breath, trying to get back to my senses. I couldn't just rush out and leave without an explanation and I couldn't tell Niall I left because the girl he has sex with was all over him. Just thinking about it sounded ridiculous and I walked back to them, taking a seat on the floor, in front of the coffee table. Niall glanced at me and his lips curled slightly on the left. Could he tell it was bothering me?

Everyone started playing beer pong but with vodka and I watched them swallow the content of their glasses with a smile. I was not very good with drinking and could easily get drunk but I still enjoyed looking at them. Lewis came back after a while and handed me a beer. I thanked him as he sat next to me and when I turned back to Niall, he was looking at his friend with a frown. My eyes dropped to Mandy's legs still placed on his lap and I just pressed my lips together, trying to ignore it.

About half an hour later, I was leaning on the table, trying not to let my thoughts wonder too much. I looked at Niall who was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes and watching him being so drunk reminded me of one of the first days we met. He was drunk and had tried to show me his cock. Now, I was a bit scared he was going to show it to someone else. The thought of his half-hard dick pressed against me as he kissed me made my inner thighs throb again and I held my breath. I would never get over that.

"Mandy, you're definitely cheating!" Noah let out a bit too loud, moving his chin in his sister's direction. "That's fucking water, innit?"

"You're just pissed because I can hold my drink better than you!"

"Don't even try, you've cheated before!" Noah insisted.

I stared at the scene with my eyebrows raised, noticing that I was myself getting a bit too tipsy but it was clearly nothing compared to them.

"Want a proof that this isn't water?" Mandy asked, getting a bit mad.

"Yes!"

I didn't expect it at all when she turned around quickly and crashed her mouth against Niall's, quickly deepening the kiss as she held the back of his head to make sure he wouldn't move. I felt my heart shatter in my chest as an image of them having sex on his bed crawled back in my thoughts.

Everyone started yelling and laughing except me. I was not tipsy. I was drunk off my ass. How many drinks did I have? I couldn't count, but I knew it was partially why my eyes were filling up with tears at that exact moment. I was not dating Niall and I was well aware that he and Mandy were fuck buddies, so why did I become so emotional from them kissing? I was pissed but most of all, I was pissed at myself for letting something like that get to me again.

I had admitted to myself that I liked Niall and even if I knew it was unrequited, I was clearly not okay with watching him kiss someone else. Where did my resolution to do anything I could to hate him go? What the fuck was I doing?

I held my breath as they kissed, not able to let air fill my lungs, but it seemed like that kiss would never end and after a while, I put my beer on the table and got up. It was only when I reached for the elevator that I allowed tears to fall down my cheeks.

"Fuck off." I whispered to no one as the doors opened and I walked in, turning around to lean against the wall.

And I saw him. I saw Niall, getting out of the apartment and looking around himself until he saw me, and my lips parted.

"DEVON!"

The doors started closing just as he started running but I remained motionless, wondering if the doors would close before he could reach the elevator.

"Devon wait!" he let out, sliding his arm between the doors and making them open again. "Devie."

I let my eyes roam up and down on him, my mouth still half opened. He finally stepped foot in the elevator but remained standing up in front of me as the doors finally closed behind him. We started going down and he shook his head slightly.

"Devie, why are you leaving?"

I frowned, ready to throw at him everything that was actually wrong with him and not even feeling bad about it because of how intoxicated I was but I didn't have time: the power seemed to go off, the lights flickered and the elevator stopped.

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan au #niall horan enemies to lovers #niall horan college au #niall horan uni au #my fanfics #swy

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alma37 · 4 years

Text

A[h]arrowing evening - chapter 2

I kind of promised another chapter if I reached 100 hits on AO3. I am a little behind schedule, but a promise is a promise.

So, here is the chapter 2.

Fandom : Dracula TV 2020

Relationship : Agatha x Dracula

Rating : this one tends to M but not quite

I still have not counted the words.

@hopipollahorror @lady-of-the-wolves @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @feralstare

[let me know if you don’t want to be tagged]

@vampyrsbride @khyruma no idea if you even read fanfiction

Anyone else who didn’t ask to be tagged but still read my shit,

everyone, I hope you’ll enjoy!

As Dracula was settling comfortably for the night, a knock resounded on his door. Curious, he went to open and was startled to find a swaying Agatha in front of him.

- Agatha! To what do I owe the pleasure? Or is it displeasure tonight?

The young vampire waved her hand and slurred :

- I came to aplo... to aloo... ap.., to say I'm sorry.

The older vampire frowned :

- Are you all right?!

- Nether bedder!" She was leaning dangerously sideways until she was supported by the doorframe.

- Did you take something?" Dracula asked, incredulous.

- Noooo!... " But after a short pause, she admitted : "I just drank a drunk!" And she sniggered. Agatha never sniggered.

- Oh my! Are you drunk?!

- Mabee a little bit. But he tasted sooo good!" Agatha mumbled, ecstatic.

- What did I tell you about drinking drunk people?!

- Pff!" The younger vampire scoffed. "I drrink whoeve' I want, Mr 'now-it-all.

Now she was listing dangerously towards Dracula who held her upright by the shoulders.

- Do you understand how much alcohol is needed to affect us?! How much blood did he have left in his alcohol stream?!" He asked drily.

The former nun, leaning on his chest now, snorted.

- Did you just make a joke?

- Perhaps.

- You shooould not do that.

- Why not?

- Because... it makesss you likeable. And I am not sh-supposed to like you. I am sh-supposed to.. to kill you! See? I still have my little arrow with me, just in case.

Agatha brandished in all directions the wooden weapon she got used to carry since Dracula turned her. Weary, the older vampire got hold of it before his younger kin could do some damage to either of them.

- Yes, I can see that. I'll keep it for now, if you don't mind.

Agatha made a gesture, that could either mean she didn't mind or its exact opposite. When she didn't try to take back her weapon, the Count concluded it was the former and returned to their previous conversation :

- Did you just said you liked me?

- Ov course not! Why would I do that?! You mush... must get deaf in your old age.

- I assure you my hearing is quite good. You just said you liked me." He persisted.

- Nooooooooo. No, no, nononono. No..." Another short silence, before :" Maybe. A little. But I am rrrreally d-drunk at the moment, so you'll have to ashk... aks... hashk me again tomorrow. When I sh-slept it off.

- When you slept it off, you are going to wish me to the devil. So...

- Zat's not... jat's... that... Yeah!... Maybe we should sleep it ohf togejer, zen.

- I beg your pardon?!

- Zat way, no dish... no dims... no w... no sc-scoffing at.

- I won't sleep with you when you are drunk, Agatha.

- Why not?! I am vewy ri... very vi... willing at the moment. When will you 'ave anozer chance, do you think?

- God, give me strength!

- Did you..." Agatha sniggered for the second time in the evening. " Did you just take God's name in vain?!" before she dissolved in laughter, at the utter dismay of her older kin, while actually slouching against him.

- That's exactly why." The only thing keeping her up was his arm around her waist. When she finally calmed down, he tried to lead her towards the bedchamber :

- Come now. I am putting you to bed.

But Agatha resisted his pull. Even drunk, she was still a vampire.

- Only if you're coming with me into it.

Dracula towered above her.

- Agatha, don't push me. You know I want you. But not like that.

Far from being cowed, the younger vampire slid along his chest until she was an air breath from his mouth before flashing him a brilliant smile :

- Draaackeyyyy... me loveyyyy. Don't be so meaneyyyyy.

The older vampire snapped :

- That's it. That's enough! I am putting you to bed now.

Lifting her like she was a bag of feather, he threw her on his shoulder. Sober Agatha would have been scandalised. Drunk Agatha, however, sniggered for the third time and purred :

- Ooooh! Me very own cave man!... Cave vampire!" Then, even upside down, she set about removing his shirt from his trousers. Dracula couldn't believe what was happening : a few weeks ago, she almost killed him and now, it appeared that she was intent on undressing him.

- Agatha, stop that!" He admonished her, to no avail.

The younger vampire, apparently, was determined to see him naked before they could reach the bedroom. She was really trying his self-control.

- Agatha, if you don't stop, I am going to do something I have wanted to for a long time and you will be left with only regret and self-loathing in the morning. Is it really what you want?

At last, this made her stop. Dracula couldn't help but release a relieved sigh.

Once they reached the bedroom, Dracula slid her down to the bed. He put a knee on the floor to remove her shoes. Agatha, surprisingly silent, was watching him. When he straightened up to help her lie down, she unexpectedly put her hand under his shirt flat against his abdomen. Dracula fought to keep what was left of his restraint.

-Show me your scar.

- It's gone. You know we don't scar." The older vampire answered while removing gently her hand from his skin. She was warm from the blood, which wasn't helping with his growing lust. Luckily, she didn't resist. But she looked disappointed :

- I wanted to kiss it better, as you asked me. As an apology.

- You did, don't you remember?

- Hum! Yes. But I wanted to do it more... Can I kiss you better somewhere else, then?

- Agatha..." But before truly realising it, he was leaning forward. His restraint was flying through the window.

The kiss started sweetly, a mere brush of the lips, but drunk Agatha was demanding and Dracula, unable to resist, gave her what she asked. Soon they were tangled with each other, the older vampire not sure anymore how many limbs his younger kin had, as she seemed to touch him everywhere at the same time. He finally stopped her hands from their roaming and threaded their fingers, while exploring her mouth with avidity. In all their 123 years of fighting, she had never let down her guard and never allowed him this close. Until tonight. She was exquisite, as always. Warm and soft and... softer?

Dracula raised his head to note, with a mix of dismay and amusement, that his nemesis had fallen asleep in his bed. Well, at least, she finally was where he wanted her. The vampire shook his head and laughed softly at the irony. As it was, she wouldn't be able to stake him come morning. Small mercies.

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

A few hours later, Agatha emerged slowly from her slumber. For a few instants, she couldn't remember but when memories flooded back, she put a pillow on her face and groaned. How could she do that?

- Oh! I see you are awake. Hum! And not suffering ill effects from your over-indulgence.

- Sweet Jesus! It really did happen, then?! I still hoped it was a nightmare.

- I am afraid not, Angel.

- I can't believe I did that. This is so embarrassing!

- Well, it could have been worse. I could have given in.

At those words, Agatha removed the pillow from her face - She couldn't smother herself anyway - and looked at her supposedly oldest enemy. He was watching her with a mix of fondness, resignation and longing. Or so it seemed to her guilty mind.

- I am so sorry, Vlad. I... Well, thank you for resisting. At least one of us didn't embarrass themselves last night.

- My pleasure, Angel. And don't thank me, I wasn't able to totally resist, if you remember well. If you hadn't fallen asleep, honestly..." He trailed before falling silent.

Agatha dropped her gaze on the sheets, a new wave of mortification washing over her.

- Yes, well, I provoked you. So, for once, I don't blame you. You actually showed remarkable restraint.

- Did I hear you well? Did you just pay me a compliment?! You may suffer ill effects after all." Dracula teased her.

- Nevermind." Agatha mumbled, going out of bed. Dracula presented a helping hand, which, after only a slight hesitation, she took. Once upright, though, she had to grip it more tightly as she swayed on her feet.

- Hum. Not totally unscathed, then." The older vampire remarked, without mirth.

- I'm fine." She defended herself."I just feel a little numb.

- Yes, of course. My mistake." He answered, with a knowing smile this time.

- Oh do shut up, Dracula!" The younger vampire growled, as she tried to remove her hand from his. But Dracula didn't let her.

- Maybe you should stay the day. Sleep it off.

- Dracula...

- I promise you : no mischief, no ulterior motive. If I may say so, you don't look so good. You could rest here, I won't bother you.

- I don't think..." She hesitated.

- I can bring you some clean blood to clear your head and you can lie here as long as you want." Dracula added when he sensed her wavering.

Agatha was thinking about accepting his offer as she felt exhausted, but still she pondered.

- Where will you rest? It's daytime.

- Don't worry about me. My sofa is quite comfortable.

The former nun snorted :

- Your sofa is as comfortable as a marble coffin and at least a foot shorter than you!

Dracula shrugged.

- Well, I still have to put a bed in the guest bedroom, so it will have to make do.

Agatha looked at her nemesis' bed : it had been made for him, so it was probably a foot longer than her and at least, large enough to house a small village. She gulped then took a deep breath :

- Your bed is big enough for the both of us. And since, you were the gentleman and offered me its exclusive use, I would be a very sore guest if I'd let you sleep on this terrible furniture you dare call a sofa.

Despite his surprise at her unexpected proposition, Dracula chuckled :

- Well, if you get into the habit of coming to see me while drunk, I may need to invest into a second bed. Or...

Agatha raised a warning finger :

- Don't even think about finishing this sentence, Count.

The older vampire grinned but stopped talking. After an awkward silence, Agatha added :

- You should think about replacing that sofa, too.

- I will." At his tone, she looked at him. He was watching her back with that same expression again.

- Are you sure you don't mind?" Dracula broke the spell. "I must admit I got quite fond of my bed, since I don't need my coffin to sleep in.

- No. I mean : I don't mind." But she insisted, to be sure : "You promise me no mischief.

- You offered me to sleep with you." He countered, teasing her.

Agatha didn't catch the joke, if her scandalised look was any indication :

- I was drunk!

Dracula laughed at her outraged tone.

- I'm joking, Agatha. Relax.

he sat on one side of the bed and patted the place next to him.

- Come on. You look dead on you feet. I promised you no mischief. I'll keep my word.

Agatha sat carefully on the bed then lay down next to her old enemy. They didn't say anything for some time. Dracula rearranged his limbs then put his hands behind his head, settling in.

Agatha was lying next to him rigidly, debating with herself, until finally she sighed :

- Oh Hell!" And throwing caution to the wind, she rolled on her side to nestle against him. It was quite nice, actually.

The older vampire stayed still for a moment, unsure what to do. Then, slowly, he put down one arm to place it around her shoulders and bring her a little closer to him.

- No mischief." She mumbled into his shirt.

- No mischief." He confirmed with a smile in his voice. "Even if you make it hard for me to keep my promise."

- Not without a partner." His younger kin replied softly, already on the verge of sleep.

Dracula resisted laughing at her tart answer, so as not to disturb her. She was relaxing against him and very soon, he could sense she was fast asleep. No partner indeed.

He couldn't hold it any longer and laughed, barely disturbing his exhausted partner. She muttered in her sleep, then settled against him once more after throwing an arm across his chest.

Perhaps, she would heed his advice next time. But Dracula hoped she wouldn't. Drunk Agatha was almost as fun as angry Agatha and far more agreeable.

The older vampire looked down at the woman in his arms. Maybe he was the one high, in this instance : he still couldn't believe his nemesis was actually sleeping, sober and peaceful, in his embrace. If God had decided to be done with him and Agatha was His sword arm, Dracula decided then and there that it was a small price to pay for a few hours with her in his arms. And with that satisfying thought, he slipped in a comfortable slumber.

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dragatha #a [h]arrowing evening #chapter 2 #stand alone #agatha got drunk #drunk agatha is fun #poor dracula has to resist #she's driving him ragged #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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csbinnie · 4 years

Text

ENEMIES TO LOVERS WITH KAI

REQ . . ah your blog already looks so cute~ i was wondering if maybe i could request an enemies to lovers with kai~? i totally get if you’re being swamped with messages right now though ^^ in any case thank you

˒ this one got a little bit long so the rest of it is under the cut below!

FROM ENEMIES…

when you were little, you and kai were inseparable. you shared everything with each other, from teddy bears to cartons of banana milk to your cute five-year-old secrets.

your parents were close friends, so it made sense that you spent a lot of time together. with your lives so intertwined, it was easy to let everything feel like it was a contest. if kai got a B on his math test, you had to get an A. if you started playing a new video game, kai learned too, always with the intent to one up you.

kai loved to make fun of you. he was so kind and sweet with everyone else, more of an introvert than anything else, but he stuck to your side like glue, determined to get under your skin. growing up, he knew exactly what to say to make you angry. it felt like a game and somehow you were always losing.

you hated that feeling. little did you know, kai was desperately trying to cover up the big fat crush he had developed on you. it was so frustrating. he tried everything to convince himself you were annoying, but he couldn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster every time he saw you, even if you were being mean.

your mini rivalry continued into high school. kai was frustrating to be around, for many reasons. because despite the way that he bothered you, you couldn’t deny how cute he was or how much you clicked, even when he was being irritating on purpose.

luckily, this was obvious to everyone else, including your fifth period chemistry teacher who insisted on making you lab partners (and who could blame her? even teachers can be hopeless romantics).

at first, the two of you were like oil and water. arguing over everything, each of you insisting that you knew how to do everything better.

“oh my god, stop! you’re going to hurt yourself if you do it like that,” you snapped, slapping kai’s hands away from the bunsen burner he was holding. he glared at you.

“i’m going to hurt myself? you weren’t even paying attention when she explained this to us. maybe you should let people who know what they’re doing handle this.”

tldr: kai lit your shirt on fire.

after you were done panicking and mrs. kim had finished putting out the fire and yelling at both of you, you were both given detention.

you and kai had to sit next to each other and write an essay (together) about the benefits of working collaboratively. it was like your own personal hell.

“i shouldn’t even be here.”

“shut up, it’s your fault for not rolling up your sleeves like we were supposed to.”

long story short: the essay did NOT get written because you and kai spent most of the fifty minutes fighting.

and the world probably would have continued spinning, completely unchanged, had kai not completely lost his mind mid argument.

because there you were, yelling at him with a passion he had only seen when you were ten and he stole your bag of fruit snacks out of your lunch, and before he knew it he was kissing you, effectively shutting you up.

and just like that everything changed.

…TO LOVERS.

“are you out of your fucking mind????”

pushing the thought of how soft kai’s lip felt against yours and how faintly they tasted like ice cream, you shoved him away from you.

for once, kai had nothing to say, mouth dropped slightly open in shock as he watched you storm out of the classroom.

he ended up writing the essay alone, ironically, so that neither of you would get in to more trouble, and then he had his whole ride home to think about what he had just done.

by the time you got home the anger had melted away, replaced by confusion and hurt. you didn’t know how to feel about anything anymore. part of you hated him for making you feel this way, but the other part of you wished you hadn’t pulled away.

it wasn’t until later that night, after kai decided he couldn’t sleep, that he finally texted you.

from kai — can we talk?

you debated ignoring him, but eventually decided against it, letting him in through the back door. you had to walk quietly so you wouldn’t wake your family, but you ended up in your bedroom without making any noise.

“i’m sorry i kissed you,” kai admitted as soon as he sat down next to you. you were curled up against the headboard, hugging your knees. he sat at the edge of your bed, like he wasn’t sure if he was really supposed to be in there. “i shouldn’t have done that without asking first. i think maybe there are a lot of things i should have done first. like… this crush i have on you. i should have told you about that.”

“a crush?” you repeated, squeezing your knees. you wouldn’t have believed him if you didn’t see the look on his face, like he could have passed out from nerves.

“yeah,” he breathed out slowly, chancing a glance at you. he was playing with a loose thread in your comforter, avoiding your gaze, but now he lifted his eyes to look right at you. “i like you, y/n. i’ve liked you for as long as i can remember. i’m sorry i was such a jerk about it.”

this was a side of kai you hadn’t seen in a long time, embarrassed and a little shy, but also completely genuine. you missed it, you realized as tears suddenly blurred your vision. you missed him.

“don’t cry!” kai gasped, forgetting his earlier reluctance as he sprang forward to cup your cheeks. he used to do the same thing all the time when you were little. that’s what causes the dam to break, sending your tears cascading down your cheeks.

“i’m okay,” you protest. kai ignores you completely, crushing you in a hug. it feels so much like when you were small and afraid of thunder storms. kai used to cover your ears for you, hugging you tightly until it was over.

the memory makes you smile. you and kai end up falling asleep like that. you wake up before kai’s parents have a chance to notice he was ever missing (thank god).

your parents raise their eyebrows at you when he comes over (read: sneaks out the back to meet you in front) to walk you to school for the first time in forever and you know you’re going to have some questions waiting for you after school when he slips his hand into yours, but for the first time in a while you feel completely happy, stopping to press your lips to his as soon as you’re out of their sight.

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt fluff #txt angst #txt reactions #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #txt x reader #huening kai #hueningkai #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst

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chandisiacs · 4 years

Text

satsified. ✧ seo changbin

genre ✧ a bit of fluff, but mostly passionate, (lowkey) filthy smut

warnings ✧ nipple play, fingering, (maybe) overstimulation, mentions of gagging, deepthroating, and blowjobs

word count ✧ 1946

note ✧ requested by @violethhj and anonymous. for my baby @bruh-changbin. happy birthday, love. i’ll most likely be asleep when you read this, but i hope this satisfies you enough. have a great birthday! 💓💓🥂

song recommendations ✧ problem with you and stand still by sabrina claudio

[11:20pm] truth is, you were only a little satisfied with the satin sheets and silk nightgowns, the five-star michelin caribbean cuisine and top-tier hotel that would pass for a millionaire’s penthouse. it was part of the fbi agent boyfriend package, and who are you to deny offers such as traveling with your fbi agent boyfriend to the middle of the caribbean to deal with matters you never bothered to indulge yourself in? this was the life you always wanted, but there was one thing missing.

changbin.

being part of the fbi agency meant more work and less pay, and you knew that. he had already told you about it one time when you were whining about his late comings and early morning leaves. you figured that perhaps a little caribbean vacation would earn you more quality time with changbin, but you were stupid enough to even consider “business trip” labeled over “vacation”. nothing can beat satisfaction other than the feel of your boyfriend on your body, the light kisses on your cheeks and eyelids, and the warmth of his hand in yours while gallivanting across the caribbean roads. sadly, satisfaction wasn’t on your side today.

as you stared out into the gleaming city at night, bokeh lights from skyscrapers and buildings shining in front of your figure, you tried to lift the heavy heart settling on your chest at displeasure. you didn’t even notice the door opening behind you. it was only changbin’s tired voice that snapped you out of your thoughts at that very instant, but you didn’t dare to turn around and face him. “i’m back. man, today was a total drag! there were a couple of guys that we had to take downtown, and none of them had an alibi to the culprit.”

“a shame.” you hummed, words shallow. changbin was busy tossing his blazer by the bed and loosening his tie to notice how empty that sounded, and gave you a scoff. “a shame indeed. i swear, [first name], when we get my hands on him, i’ll--”

he faltered when he sought you by the balcony, arms folded over your chest and back silhouetted by the raging white city lights and moonshine from across the night sky. changbin then knew that something was up, for he slowly approached you, placing his hands on your shoulders and whispering gently on your ear. “hey baby, what’s on your mind?”

that was it. the warmth he was sending you through his palms smoothing down your shoulders, the breath brushing past your ear. you longed for his touch all day, longed for that voice of his. you never woke up to him beside you these past mornings, neither have you fallen asleep with his arms around you, so forgive yourself for being touch-starved. you had to tell him.

“binnie,” you stared across the blinking skyscraper from a mile’s distance. “i’m tired. how come i never wake up to you beside me anymore? how come i never get to hear your ‘good night’s to me before i sleep? how come we never get time together? i agreed to come with you to this trip because i wanted us to spend some time as a couple. this was definitely not what i was expecting, changbin.”

changbin stood silent the whole time, staring into the same distance as yours. it took him a few moments to respond, before he finally spoke up. “i’m sorry that i didn’t reach your expectations, [first name], but you already know that it’s less work--”

“less play, i know.” you interjected, inhaling a sharp breath at the familiar sentence he would always pull up as an excuse every time he came home at unreasonable hours. changbin seemed to catch on to your irritation, and pulled your body closer to his, wrapping his arms around your waist. “i have a free day tomorrow.” he mused in hopes to cheer you up, which piqued your interest a bit. “we can have the whole day to ourselves, baby. just you and me. we can go window shopping, hang around a few beaches, eat in fine dining. how does that sound, hm?”

a small smile spread to your lips at your boyfriend’s reassurance. sighing, you finally turned around to meet your hands with changbin’s while giggling softly. “i just want you, changbin. i could just stay in bed all day, as long as you’re with me. i ask for nothing more.”

if a smile could light up a thousand suns, then that would be changbin’s smile the moment you laid that onto him. this was nice. no, it was perfect. you’ve longed for moment where he’d have his lips on yours again, his hands intertwined with yours like tangled strings furled and difficult to pull apart. you could only thank the heavens for that moment to come true, and you gladly kissed back when he did, smiling at the love hidden beneath the warmth of his lips.

“i’m all yours.” changbin mused once he pulled away, and held his palm on your cheek, stroking his thumb against your skin. “what shall we do, now that i’m here?”

you were just about ready to enumerate a couple of things that you would like to do with your boyfriend tonight, but that was interrupted when you felt the sneak of his fingers threading the strap of your nightgown, tugging it down slowly. you raised a brow at changbin, amused, and your amusement even delved deeper when you found him smiling at you innocently, a stark contrast to his fingers sliding the next strap down as easily as the first one. “i don’t know, binnie. what shall you do?”

“you said you wanted me? here i am.” changbin kept his eyes locked on yours as he lead his fingers to trace down the line of your cleavage, before settling his fingertip on your right nipple. he circled around the nub before bringing two of his fingertips to squeeze it, and his smirk deepened when he heard your breath hitch from his touch. “ah, so this is what you wanted.” you responded, though your voice sounded smaller than usual. you couldn’t keep your voice at bay when changbin toyed with your nipple like that, and it only mildly frustrated you that you were growing wet just by his touch.

“it is.” he hummed back, and grabbed a hold of the collar of your nightgown before staring at you. “but is it what you want?”

“yes.” is the only thing that escapes from your mouth before changbin released the fabric from his hold, its lavender silk smoothing down your body before it dropped to the floor, revealing your stark naked form in front of his clad one. you grew hot just by changbin’s eyes darting past the entirety of your body, eye-fucking every single bit of you that you wondered how you looked like in his fantasies. “you slut.” he husked out, and it only took you little to no time to recover from that short spasm shooting from your spine at his name-calling before he grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled you inside, shutting the balcony doors shut and drawing the curtains close.

changbin enraptured his lips on yours once more, this time needier and hungrier compared to the chaste one he gave earlier. the both of you were clumsy as you fiddled with getting his belt unbuckled and him fiddling with the buttons before his clothes were discarded on the carpet floor, and you let out a small squeak when you fell upon the mattress, changbin caging you beneath him as so.

he wasted no time in kissing you senseless, saliva-coated lips making its way from your jaw, to your neck, then to your breasts. he took delight in taking your nipple in his mouth, his lips smacking and nibbling on the hardened nub like it was the cherry on top of a vanilla ice cream. you lulled your head back against the satin sheets, whimpering and moaning from the stimulation of changbin on your pleasure spot, and you buckled yourself when you felt his hand fondle at the folds of your pussy. his fingers worked like magic as he spread your folds apart and busied his middle finger on swirling pressure onto your clit.

“spread your legs, baby.” he mouthed on your nipple, pressing soft kisses around the nub before moving over to your left nipple. you did as he was told, spreading your legs apart and adjusting to the strokes of changbin’s fingers in you. you cried out in immense pleasure when you felt two of his fingers sliding deeper onto you, and the pace quickened as well as his tongue on your nub, sending your mind into a total frenzy.

eyes rolled back, moans spewing out from your mouth like a broken record, you braced your body from changbin’s foreplay and humped on his fingers, absolutely feeling blissful at the feeling of his digits around your walls. he was chasing your high before you knew it, and with jumbled words of, “i’m gonna cum”, you spilled all over changbin’s fingers, marking that as your first orgasm of tonight.

changbin’s pace slowed down after that, and he pulled away from your reddened nipples to take in your form. you were panting heavily beneath him, sweat marring your temples and chest filled completely with saliva. your legs were twitching from post-orgasm, jizz drizzling down your inner thighs that looked like heaven in changbin’s eyes. lustful gaze locked in with your clouded ones, he brought the two fingers you cummed in to his mouth and licked them clean. he saved the last bit for you, of course, and drew his wet fingers in your mouth, breath becoming bated as you sucked on them like a filthy cumslut.

“you taste yourself, baby?” changbin said lowly. “how do you taste?”

“good.” you mewled in response, licking every bit of your cum and his saliva further down your tongue before you took every bit of his fingers in. you eyed him with thirst as you took his digits in your mouth, and changbin fought back a low growl when he felt the bulge on his boxers hardening on the fabric. instead, he shut his eyes and imagined his fingers as his cock, being dicked down and licked by your tongue and deepthroated by your mouth. he wanted you in him so bad, so, so bad, and he dimly thought about how he was so glad he was taking the day off for the whole of tomorrow.

he could go all night with you if he wanted.

with that idea in mind, changbin released his fingers from your mouth as soon as you were finished, and flipped you over so that you were on top of him. you were caught in surprise by his act, but as changbin smirked up at you, you wondered why he was such in a mood before he grabbed your hand and guided it on his erection, now hard and leaking with precum.

“help me?” he asked innocently, the same tone as the one he asked you earlier by the balcony. you scoffed at his change of dominance, but you didn’t mind one bit at it. “you are unbelievable, seo.” you said one last time, before tugging his boxers down and finding your palm right on top of his hardened cock.

with the small whine changbin let out, and the next pool of arousal building around your core, the both of you knew that this was going to take all night. you dimly thought about how you were so glad that changbin was taking the day off for the whole of tomorrow, and with that thought in mind, you were more than just glad that changbin was now all yours.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #seo changbin #seo changbin smut #pav.writes #this was longer than expected thats why i cut it LMAO #n e way cherry anon and sky i hope you enjoy this !!!!! <3

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years

Text

“I’m telling you, Maxine, this guy is a total bitch! His hair smelled all flowery and he was in the dumbest windbreaker all day—“

“Who?”

“Keep up, Maxine,” Billy sneered. “Harrington! Steve Harrington!” He smacked the wheel, rings clinking as he did. “Former King of Hawkins High. He definitely carries himself like he thinks he shits gold,” Billy mumbled. Max stared at him, eyes half lidded and unimpressed.

“So? Like you ever let that kind of thing stop you before.” Billy smirked, tongue poking out between his teeth. His smirk faded, switching to another scowl as they turned onto Cherry Lane.

“I’m definitely gonna be King,” Billy said. “But I’m sure as hell gonna make him notice.” Max raised a brow, but Billy didn’t even look at her, staring out the windshield, one hand pressed to his lips in thought.

Looking back, that was the beginning of it. Max really should have seen it coming.

—

“—and then I knocked him down, ‘cause he has no idea how to plant himself,” Billy rambled. Max was glaring at her fists, tired of the Party and their stupid rules. Billy’s rambling about Steve Harrington was a welcome distraction. “God,” Billy smacked the wheel. “I fucking hate that guy! I swear, he just bats his lashes and gets what he wants!”

“I doubt that,” Max said, just to be contrary. Billy scoffed.

“You got no idea, shrimp,” he said. “Boy could get outta burpees with a well placed blink.” Max looked at Billy from the corner of her eye.

She wondered if he even noticed.

—

Max eyed Billy, quiet in the driver’s seat. He stared out the windshield, face carefully blank, not bothering her. His music played, loud, and Max stared at the volume knob. Sure, he was an asshole, had deserved the wake up call, but Max missed his bitching. Missed him complaining about dumb shit.

She just kinda missed Billy.

Max reached out and turned down the music. Billy glared at her, furrowing his brow.

“Uh, you know the rules, Maxine.” She just rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I just wanted to ask you something.” Billy rolled his eyes, but didn’t say no. “So like, now that I know Steve, I totally get that whole yuppie prep thing you mentioned. Did you know he has all of Madonna’s tapes?” Billy’s face morphed in pain and he let out a groan.

“Seriously? Harrington’s more of a girl than you!” Max glared, slapping at his bicep. Billy just snickered, eyes narrowing slightly in worry and distrust. But he let it slide, so Max took what she could get. “And he listens of his own free will? Not to impress the princess?”

“Nancy doesn’t really care about Madonna. Doesn’t dislike her, but doesn’t love her the way Steve does,” she said. Billy let out an annoyed squawk, finally breaking the silence and going on a tirade about why Harrington sucked because of his taste in music.

Max smiled to herself.

“So,” Max said, wiggling her eyebrows at Billy, who just shoved at her shoulder lightly, frowning. “Saw you and Steve chatting before we came out.” She didn’t miss the light flush in Billy’s cheeks.

“No one else even remotely cool to talk to. I had to make do,” he replied, not convincing her one bit.

“Oh yeah, sure,” she agreed, over the top. Billy just scowled at her. “It’s just, you know, you always say you hate his guts.” Billy gave a one shoulder shrug.

“Maybe I spoke to soon. He’s still the worst, still a prep with horrible taste in music, but yanno. He at least doesn’t needle me with annoying questions.” Max scoffed at his tone.

“Whatever.” Billy gave her the side eye, lips pursing.

“Why?” He asked, tone lightly accusing. “What’re you getting at?”

“Just wondering when I can expect you to start playing Wham.” Billy made a retching noise.

“Don’t speak that name in my car! Not my sanctuary!” Max cackled, tossing her head back. It came deep from her gut, deep down, and she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this hard with Billy. Judging by the small smile on his face, and the light in his eyes, he was thinking the same thing.

It was quiet in the car, tension oozing off of Billy as he drove, cutting corners too close and too fast. Max gripped the seat, eyes darting over to Billy occasionally. He was staring out the windshield, jaw clenched so tightly a nerve was jumping clearly against his skin. Max bit her lip.

“How was I supposed--”

“I’m not mad at you, Max,” Billy grit out. Which was a lie, but Max understood what he meant. He was mad at both of them. The car was quiet again and Max had never, in her life, wanted to hear Billy yelling. Wanted to feel the brunt of his anger instead of the building, seething energy that was radiating off of him.

“They all had to sign something,” Max said, keeping her voice as even as she could. Billy didn’t reply, just took a sharp turn and exhaled sharply through his nose. “The government made them, Billy. He wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t,” Billy replied. And, oh, that wasn’t just anger. It was barely anger. Max looked at him again, mind racing as Billy’s nostrils flared again. His posture was all anger, all rage, but his voice was pure betrayal. Pure sadness.

Max had no idea what to say. She picked at a loose thread on the ripped knee of her jeans.

“They thought it was done,” she tried. “That night--”

“Max,” Billy rasped, cutting her off. “Just. Shut up.”

“But--”

“I trusted him, okay?” Billy finally snapped. Max leaned back, well and truly shocked. “I trusted him, and I really thought--” Billy cut himself off, giving Max a fearful glance. She tried to convey everything she was feeling into one look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Billy sniffed, feigning nonchalance, but Max could see his eyes watering. “Whatever. It doesn’t fucking matter, ‘cause obviously he doesn’t trust me.”

Max had no idea how she could convince Billy he was wrong.

“Are you ever gonna talk to Steve again?” Max stirred her sundae, mixing the remaining hot fudge in with the vanilla ice cream. Billy shrugged, biting into his Dilly Bar with more aggression than was strictly necessary.

“Dunno,” he replied curtly.

“Are you ever gonna stop being mad at him?” She stirred more, swallowing thickly. Billy just shrugged again.

“Dunno.” Max felt her heart beat a little faster, felt her eyes and cheeks get hot in the way she hated because she hated crying.

“Are you ever gonna stop being mad at me?” She wanted it to come out stronger, but her voice could barely manage a whisper without cracking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Billy pause. Heard him shuffle a little.

“Listen, Max,” he said, voice low and serious. “I don’t like being lied to. You know that. I get why you did it. I do. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He was quiet a moment, cracking off some of the cherry shell to eat. “It’s different with Steve.” Max sniffed, rubbing harshly at her eyes. Billy sighed, leaning across the console to pull her into his side. She leaned, tucking her head into his armpit, leather jacket warm and comforting.

“So you don’t hate me?” She asked weakly.

“Could never hate you, shitbird.” Max snorted. “Get annoyed by? Oh, for sure.” He laughed as Max shoved at him, scowling, but she wasn’t crying anymore. “But hate you? Nah, you’re too cool for that.” Billy shot her narrowed eyes and pointed at her, taking another bite of Dilly Bar. “Tell anyone that and your ass is grass. I got a reputation to keep.” He spoke with his mouth full and it was disgusting, but still, Max smiled.

“You’re so gross, I don’t know why Steve even misses you.” She meant to be teasing, but Billy shut down, face closing off. She looked away, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Sorry.”

“He misses me?” His voice was carefully blank, everything about him screaming indifference, so Max knew he cared a lot about her answer.

“Keeps asking me to tell you he’s sorry and wants to talk since you keep avoiding him,” she replied, voice just as carefully neutral. Billy was a fight risk, a flight one too, and she wasn’t going to fuck things up for him. Not after California. Not after they had to move. Billy didn’t say anything, just shoved the remainder of his ice cream in his mouth and tossed the stick out the window. “That’s littering,” Max said, on reflex. Billy rolled his eyes, but opened the car door and picked up the stick. He turned around, glancing from her unfinished sundae and back to her. She held it out and he took it, tossing both items in the trashcan outside the Dairy Queen. He got back in and closed the door, but didn’t start the car up.

“You know if he’s gonna be home tonight, or has the geek squad taken up all his time now that he’s got no one cool to hang with?” He was playing for normal, but Max knew he needed to talk to Steve now, or it wouldn’t happen. She’d have to walkie Dustin and get him to drop his Star Wars Marathon, which would be a fucking nightmare, but it was worth it for the way Billy relaxed when she answered,

“He’ll be home. We’re all busy anyway.”

“You can’t say anything.” Billy’s voice was shaky, breath short and shallow. “You can’t.”

“I won’t, Billy, I swear,” Max promised. He was staring out the windshield, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. His nostrils flared and he bit his lip.

“Max--”

“I fucked up last time,” Max said. Billy’s breath was sharp and he pressed his palm to his eye quickly, gritting his teeth. “I didn’t-- I didn’t get it,” she said, voice getting quieter. She looked at Billy, who was still staring out the window. He was trying so hard, but she could see his chin wobble and the tension around his eyes.

It made her breath hitch.

“And now?” Billy asked, voice barely above a harsh whisper. Max wasn’t sure what to say.

“He doesn’t need to know anything about either of our lives that doesn’t comply with his ideals.” Billy licked his lips slowly mouth a tight line. He gave a sharp jerky nod and let out a laugh that seemed more like releasing a noise so he didn’t scream.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” Things were quiet again. Billy seemed to be calming down, but Max needed to say it. It was the time.

“I’m sorry, Billy, for that. I really am.” The car jerked to a stop as Billy pulled to the side of the road. Someone behind him honked and he gave them the finger. Things were quiet in the car, so Max pressed on, nervous in the silence. “You’re an asshole like, all the time, but you--” She let out a shaky breath. “You never deserved that. You don’t deserve what Neil--”

“Max.” Billy’s voice broke and Max snapped her head up, shocked when she saw he was crying. He had an arm pressed to his eyes as he took a gasping breath, trying to calm himself down. Max swallowed with difficulty, taking a deep breath. Finally, Billy’s breath slowly evened out, though it went through him in deep shudders, controlled and cautious.

“Just. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose. It’s-- It’s not your fault.” Max felt tears welling up in her eyes and she hated it. It was ridiculous. Both of them, in the car, trying to not cry while talking about their feelings.

She couldn’t say that even a month ago she could have imagined this happening. Maybe in California, someday, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, but after the move? She didn’t think she’d ever be close to Billy again.

“But--”

“I put a lot of my shit on you, Max,” Billy said. “I put almost all of my shit on you, and you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve what I did. Neither did Steve, or Lucas.” Max stared at him, hot tears falling down her cheeks because she just couldn’t stop them. Her emotions were swirling around inside her, and she could feel them trying to bubble out in any possible way.

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a moment, sniffling. Billy shrugged, wiping aggressively at his eyes.

“What’s up with you and him anyway?” Billy asked, changing the subject. It was an olive branch, telling her he couldn’t talk feelings anymore, but that they were okay.

“He’s being a total dorkus maximus again, so I had to break up with him.”

“Yeah, right, of course.”

“Shut up!”

Max had her feet up on the seat as she sat across the backseat. Her seat belt cut into her weird, but it felt good having her back pressed against the side as the wind ruffled her hair. It came in through Billy’s open window, cool in the summer morning breeze. Billy had picked her up, promising to take her to the mall today, and when he had arrived, Steve was in the passenger’s seat.

“My car won’t start, so Billy’s giving me a ride since you guys are going this way anyway!” Max had chatted with him a bit, but it had quickly died down. She knocked her knees together anytime there was a significant bump in the road, occasionally looking up and out at the boring cornfields, that weren’t too boring, maybe, when they were all green like this.

Movement drew her eyes forward, and she watched as Steve slowly reached out, resting his hand on top of Billy’s on the gear shift. He pulled Billy’s hand away, turning it over to thread their fingers together and rest them on his thigh. When Max looked up, she saw a glimpse of the smile on his face as he turned to look out the window. Max’s eyes darted over and caught Billy’s in the rear view mirror. He looked scared, nervous, but also so happy and carefree. She hadn’t seen him this happy in such a long time.

Max smirked, making mocking kissy faces at him. Billy’s eyes widened before they rolled. He stuck his tongue out at her before looking back at the road.

#Billy Hargrove #max mayfield #billy and max #mentions of harringrove #like it's a big part but also this is a max and billy exploration #i just.... wish we had gotten to see more of their relationship is all #but hey #at least i get to make it gay lolololololololol #flangst #angst #it gets kinda emotional between them #but also they're sarcastic bbies yanno #there's cute and sad and happy and conflicted and a happy end

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karmasuna · 4 years

Text

》12.54 a.m.

pairing; bakugo katsuki x reader

genre; angst

wordcount; 975

synopsis; tying up loose threads after a broken relationship is never easy.

a/n; this is the first thing i’ve written in one go because it’s my,,,, ex?friend’s? birthday and it’s making me very emotional ;-; very self indulgent so sorry if it’s all over the place woooo

“Did you ever love me?”

The question goes unanswered, an awkward silence filling your room. It’s suffocating, clouding your thoughts as you try to form a response.

There’s shuffling on his end of the call. You can practically see him in his own room, curled up on his bed, pillow between his arms as he stares at the ceiling. Each sound he makes, every little thing he does, it’s all too familiar to you.

It was as if he’d never left your side. The breakup that had happened unceremoniously between you after a fight near the end of your first year had never been official, and sometimes you can still see the traces of him in your life even two years later.

He was gone but had never truly left you. Bakugo had truly changed you more than you could ever imagine in that one short year you had unofficially been together.

Now that you think about it, nothing between you and the blonde had ever been official. Unspoken words and fleeting touches, midnight calls and gentle comfort were all that you had ever shared. No labels, nothing.

It was gone as fast as it came, and you were back to being strangers in different classes who wouldn’t even look each other in the eye.

“I guess that’s a no then.”

Bakugo’s gruff voice snaps you out of your thoughts and your heart starts to speed up again. He sounds angry but you know him better than to assume that, well aware that he’s just as nervous as you are from the way his words die off slightly towards the end.

“No- yeah I did- wait- ugh, I don’t know anymore,” you sigh, tipping your head back and throwing an arm over your eyes.

The first time he had told you he loved you it was just like this too, a midnight call with both of you tucked in bed ready to sleep. I couldn’t sleep, he had said, do something about it.

And so you had. Talking well into the early hours of morning until the sun peeked over the night sky and you had threatened him into getting at least a few hours of rest before you would have to go to school. You had hung up on him right after, that you remember clear as day.

bakugo :3 : you get some rest too, idiot

bakugo :3 : ily

You didn’t get a single wink of sleep after that, heart hammering too hard in your chest for you to think straight. Sure, you were happy that he was finally being honest with himself and talking about his feelings like you had told him to, but you were more worried about the consequences of his words.

Did this mean you were dating now? What if you weren’t ready for a relationship yet?

“You’re overthinking again, idiot.”

Bakugo really does know you too well. You smile a little at his words, briefly wondering what could have been between you now if you had just chosen to reply to his message. Or just talked to him after that at all, in fact.

You weren’t ready for something as big as love yet. It was your first year at UA, a new environment throwing you into a frenzy that you could barely even control, let alone introduce a new type of chaos into your life. And so you chickened out, completely ruining your relationship overnight.

Bakugo had taken your sudden silence as a rejection, which you totally understood. You won’t pretend you weren’t aware of how hurt he was after that, losing his anchor and the only person he had opened his heart up to solely because he had chosen to be honest with you.

No matter how you put it, this whole mess was your fault, and you were well aware of that.

“I was not.” Your voice is weak as you mumble out a response, ashamed that he had read you so well.

“Uh-huh. It took you a solid minute to reply.”

The two of you share a soft chuckle, and for a minute everything seemed like it would be okay, that maybe, just maybe the two of you would be able to move on from your mistakes and start over on a clean slate.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki.”

His breath catches at your use of his first name, something you hadn’t done in quite a while. It still does things to his heart, the way his name rolled off your tongue like it was created solely for you to call him to your side.

If he’s being honest, he’d give you the whole world if you’d just asked.

“Okay. Okay.” Bakugo’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, pulling at your heartstrings. There was still so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to tell him. Silently begging him not to hang up, not to cut off this last thin thread barely connecting your hearts.

“Happy birthday again, Bakugo. I’m really sorry.” Your heart clenches with every word, yearning for him to tell you to stop, to try and fix things, for him to just simply forgive you.

“Bye, Y/N.”

Neither of you hang up after you stay your goodbyes, quietly feeling each others’ presence. You try to steady your breath, not wanting him to hear how watery your voice had become and betray your true feelings.

Whoever ends the call will be the one to end your fragile relationship that was never meant to happen, and neither of you want to hurt the other any more than you already have.

Snip.

The call cuts. The dam inside you breaks, guilt from the past two years flooding your system as you quickly move your hand to stifle your sobs.

There’s nothing you can do but to hope that maybe, just maybe one day he’ll forgive you.

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha headcanons #bakugou headcanons #bakugo x reader #bakugo angst #bnha angst #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years

Text

scared.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: mentions/details of injuries/blood, age gap (reader over 18), light angst

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for the wait for this chapter, i hope this is worth it! feedback greatly appreciated!

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

Jessika never thought she’d get that phone call.

She didn’t know what to expect when she practically raced to the hospital, sliding all over the icy roads as she tried to get there in one piece. Luckily, she got there safely and was able to walk into the emergency room to see that her friend wasn’t anywhere near death. You were sitting on a bed getting looked at; they weren’t even going to need to admit you.

As you were getting looked at, Jessika went to collect your purse that luckily didn’t have anything missing. Even the cookies you put in to bring to Poe were only a little squished. Before heading back to you, she entered the passcode into your phone and called Poe. She knew you wouldn’t call him, most likely thinking he’d probably ignore your call anyway given your fight.

His voice was just as scared as hers had been. Jessika waited anxiously for him just outside the emergency room, in the waiting area where the people who brought their loved ones in waited to see if they were too late or not. She was so grateful she wouldn’t have to call anyone with bad news.

“Y/N L/N?”

The voice saying her best friend’s name snapped Jessika out of her morbid thinking. She stood, the movement grabbing Poe’s attention out of the corner of his eye where he stood at the check-in desk. He rushed over to her, his heart beating rapidly with each step.

“She’s fine,” Jessika said immediately. “She’s got a minor concussion, some cuts and bruises, and one cut on her forehead that was deep. She’s getting stitched up now.”

Poe visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping in complete relief as he let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Jessika sunk down into a chair, running a hand through her hair as she let out a dry laugh.

“You know, I can binge the hell out of medical dramas but I can’t watch them stitch her up.”

Poe sat down next to her. “What happened?”

“A deer jumped in front of her car. She hit her brakes and hit a patch of ice, which made her spin out, fly off the road, and hit a tree. I guess the front of her car is completely totaled.”

Poe let out a sigh of relief. It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been so much worse. Jessika squeezed her eyes shut, a quiet and pained groan coming from her.

“Are you okay?” Poe looked over at her, genuine concern crossing his face. Jessika nodded slowly.

“I’ve had a migraine all day. It’s better than it was earlier, I’m just waiting for the pain meds to kick in.” She massaged her temples, looking for some kind of relief. “The hospital lights are just really bright.”

“I can take you home, if you want,” Poe offered.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Jessika inhaled sharply as a shot of pain throbbed inside her head.

“You’re not fine,” Poe said again. “It’s not going to go away if you don’t rest. You need sleep in a cool, dark place. Y/N can stay with me tonight so you can do that.”

“Y/N’s expecting me--”

“I know, but if Y/N’s got a concussion, the doctor’s are probably going to want someone to watch her tonight, wake her up multiple times and ask her questions to make sure her memory’s fine.” Jessika glanced at Poe, who gave her a small smirk. “I’ve binged medical shows, too.”

She laughed lightly as Poe continued.

“It’s going to be hard for you to do anything let alone care for another person if it gets worse again. Y/N will understand. I know she’d want you to get better.”

Jessika sighed. “You’re right. I’ll go tell a nurse so they can tell Y/N.”

Jessika grabbed her purse and stood up, turning back to look at Poe.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N is really happy with you. And she really misses you. Whatever argument you guys had, I’m sure it’s not worth letting it go on any longer. Take it from me, who said something stupid and hurtful that I didn’t meanl and has barely talked to her best friend in weeks.”

Poe watched her find someone in scrubs, her words being repeated in his head. She was right and he was stubborn. And with you perched on a hospital bed getting injuries tended to, he could care less that you were in an argument. He had been really worried about you.

》》》

An uncomfortable shiver went down your spine as you felt the needle and thread pass underneath your skin. Your head throbbed and your body ached from being jostled around the inside of your car. Anxiousness consumed you as you waited to hear the diagnosis,, practically collapsing forward into the doctor’s arms when he told you that you had been lucky with only minor injuries.

When you finally had the opportunity to call your mother, it took you twenty minutes to convince her that you were fine, that her driving to the hospital would probably result in her ending up in a bed right next to you in the emergency room. You even had to put your doctor on the phone to tell her that you were physically ok and that your roommate would take care of you. She made you promise to rest up and FaceTime her the next day.

The doctor finished your stitches, asking you to hang out while they got you ready to leave. You stretched out your neck from holding it still for so long, sucking in a breath as you grimaced against the pain. Your eyes fluttered shut, the near death experience and adrenaline physically and mentally exhausting you. Quiet, heavy footsteps approached your bed and you opened your eyes in time to see Poe sit down on the end of your bed. Your eyes widened slightly. He was the last person you expected to see.

“Hi,” you quietly said.

“Hey,” he said back, his tone softer than you anticipated. “How’re you feeling?”

“I hurt everywhere, but otherwise good.” You looked behind him. “Where’s Jess?”

“She still has a migraine, so I took her home.”

Your eyes landed back on Poe, softening with appreciation. “Thank you.”

Poe nodded as the doctor came back.

“Y/N, you are good to go. Do you have someone to help you tonight?”

“I will,” Poe interjected, rising from the bed and shaking the doctor’s hand. “She’s going to stay with me tonight.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile. It had been a hopeful sign that he showed up at the hospital, another one when he’d said you’d stay with him.

“Very good. She’s not showing any symptoms of a major concussion, but you’ll both want to monitor for symptoms since she did hit your head - memory loss, balance issues, and prolonged dizziness to name a few.” The doctor spoke directly to Poe, making sure he understood before turning to you. “Here’s some gauze pads. You’ll have to change them out a few times a day, especially after taking a shower. We’ll see you back here in a week to take those stitches out. Take it easy for the next few days. Don’t overwork yourself. Feel free to call us if you have any questions.”

Poe helped you off the bed as you thanked the doctor, keeping a hand on your back as he walked out with you. He grasped your arm as you got into the front seat of his car, patiently allowing you to take all the time your sore body needed. Poe was cautious as he drove to his apartment, careful because of the roads and careful to not scare you. He could tell by the short breaths you were taking and the bouncing of your leg that you were nervous about getting back on the roads that took you out so soon. His car hit a patch of ice as he slowed down to brake for a stop sign, the sudden jerking movement making you tense up.

But neither of you spoke, the only sound in the car coming from the radio.

Poe was helping you, out of obligation or care you didn’t know, but you didn’t want to push your luck by bringing up your argument. He was an affectionate person but he wasn’t touching you like he usually did. You didn’t know where you stood and that worried you.

Beebs jumped and greeted you happily as you walked inside and you had to regretfully nudge him off of you due to your aching body. The warmth of his apartment made you realize how wet and cold your clothes were from the accident. Poe led you into his room, going into the drawer and grabbing some items of clothing.

“I’ll let you change,” he said quietly. “The shower’s yours if you want.”

And then he shut the door behind him. You’d almost wished you were at your own apartment just so you wouldn’t be surrounded by the tension. Going into the bathroom, you placed his clothes next to the sink and turned on the shower, the idea of scalding hot water a heavenly thought. As the water warmed, you removed your clothes and for the first time that night, you looked up at your reflection.

You were beat up. Small cuts and bruises littered your body from the impact, the cut on your forehead disguised by gauze but throbbing painfully as the edges pinked with the beginnings of a bruise. You peeled back the gauze pad and stared at the cut that was at least the length of your thumb and the ends of the stitches sticking up haphazardly in every direction. For a lack of a better term, you were a mess.

Stepping into the shower, the hot water instantly relaxed your muscles. You carefully washed away any remaining traces of blood, the water at your feet turning pink as it spiraled down the drain. Instead of taking a full shower, you stood under the stream of hot water, replaying the entire night in your mind.

Poe wouldn’t have come to the hospital if he didn’t want to be with you anymore...he wouldn’t have taken you back to his apartment if he no longer cared...right?

You needed to know where you stood.

When the water ran cold, you got yourself together and got out. As you dried off, you pulled Poe’s clothes and smiled. He had grabbed your favorite shirt of his. You slid it over your head, the familiar scent bringing you immediate comfort. His sweatpants were baggy on you, but at least the relaxed clothing wouldn’t constrict your body.

Poe’s bed was still made, indicating that he hadn’t been back in the room since you got into the shower. You sat on the edge, the big bed threatening to swallow you whole if you slept in it alone. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep without saying something, you went searching for Poe. You walked out to see him setting up bedding on the couch. It hurt.

“Poe, can I say something?”

Your voice was quiet, meek; like you were afraid. Poe stopped moving, his attention completely on you. You felt less nervous when you saw the gentleness on his face. It was now or never as you took a deep breath.

“I have never been more ashamed of myself in my life. What I said...you trusted me with something that hurt you so bad and I used it against you in a stupid argument. I broke that trust.” Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall with each spoken word. “I never meant that what happened to you was any less important than what happened to me. I can’t even remember why I said it, but I did. And I hurt you.”

You took a shuddering breath, two single tears falling from each of your eyes.

“I know we’re not talking right now and I can wait until you want to talk, but I couldn’t go to sleep without you knowing how sorry I am. Because I am so, so sorry.”

Poe was silent as he took in your words. The emotion behind them nearly broke his heart.

“I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but I will do whatever it takes for however long it takes for you to forgive me.”

With a final breath and a strange comfort knowing that your words were out there, you turned to go back into Poe’s bedroom. His footsteps and soft voice stopped you.

“Y/N.”

Poe placed a gentle hand on your back, turning you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You sniffled into his chest, your own arms coming up around Poe’s waist and squeezing him into your embrace as a few more tears fell. The fear, the anger, the loneliness; all of the emotions of the past two days overwhelmed you as you clung to Poe like he was your lifeboat and you were sinking. Poe cupped the back of your head, placing a kiss on the crown and resting his face in the softness of your hair as you continued to whisper apologies into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Poe pulled back, damp spots on his t-shirt. The hand that cradled your head came down to wipe the tears off of your cheek. Poe unwound his other arm from you, encouraging you with a gentle push to go with him into the living room. He sat you down on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch directly in front of you, your hands held by his.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” Poe said, and you felt a huge weight lifted from your chest. “And I’m sorry, too. I had no right to get angry with you because of my own jealousy.”

Your shoulders dropped, the weight that had just lifted from your chest returning.

“Turns out you were right, so I guess you did have every right to be mad at me for not telling Ben.”

Poe tilted his head in confusion and you blinked away tears.

“If you’re going to get mad at me for this, please do it tomorrow. I don’t have it in me to fight with you again,” you prefaced. You were pretty sure you��d have a breakdown if you got into a shouting match with Poe. “I got coffee with Ben today, as friends, and he told me he wanted to give our relationship another try. So, I told him about you and he didn’t believe me so I stormed out. I was on my way here when I got in the accident.”

Poe exhaled deeply. Clenching your jaw, you looked away from Poe’s eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the disappointment and anger in them. You went to remove your hands from his, but he just held tighter.

“I’m not mad,” Poe finally said. You looked back up at him. “I’m not the kind of guy that won’t let you have guy friends. It just makes me uncomfortable when your guy friends still want to date you.”

“It makes me uncomfortable too, especially because he didn’t respect me for turning him down and my desire to keep you private. I don’t want to be friends with Ben now that I know this.”

Poe released your hands, not because he was angry but to run a hand through his hair. It was completely messed up from the multiple times he had done it since Jessika called him.

“This was a stupid fight, wasn’t it?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, kinda,” Poe agreed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs. “If I hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have said anything, and none of this would’ve happened. So we’re both at fault.”

Nodding in agreement, you suddenly laughed. The action confused Poe.

“I’m kind of a hypocrite,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“You can forgive me for saying something hurtful but I can’t accept Jessika’s apology? I’m a hypocrite.”

Poe placed his hand on your knee, his fingers wrapping around the bend of your knee. His thumb caressed your kneecap.

“You’re not a hypocrite,” he said. “Everyone processes hurt different. You’re human. Give yourself a break.”

The corners of your lips twitched and you shook your head in disbelief.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do. You deserve everything.”

You tried to stop the smile on your face, but couldn’t.

“There’s that smile,” Poe said as one graced his own face. You chuckled lightly. You put your hand on top of his.

“You know it was risky for you to come to the hospital?”

“I know,” Poe said softly, “but I’m your boyfriend and I had to make sure you were ok. And you’re worth the risk.”

Warmth spread from your neck to your cheeks. Poe had an incredible ability to make you forget everything you know, from his touch, his words, and even with just a look. You didn’t know how to respond to this man, this kind, kind man who had taken care of you despite being in a fight with you. So you said the only thing you’ve been thinking since he sat down on your hospital bed.

“Can I kiss you now?”

Poe chuckled. “Please.”

You stood up and pulled Poe’s lips to yours with both hands on his face, a sense of urgency behind the movement of your lips. You climbed into his lap, Poe gently guiding you down as he leaned back against the couch. You missed his kisses, the softness of his lips and the way he kissed you like it was better than breathing. Your hair fell around you, acting as a shield between the happy bubble you were in and everything else. He pushed your hair back from your face and you melted into the tender touch, the warmth of his hands on your skin lighting your skin on fire and igniting one in your belly.

Poe’s hands moved from your neck down to your waist to bring you even closer. You gasped sharply as his grip tightened, making him pull back suddenly with a worried look.

“Bruises,” you whispered with a half chuckle. “I have to take it easy for awhile.”

Poe placed a kiss on your lips, his hands tenderly moving down your waist to rest on your thighs.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you for more than sex.”

“Oh, I’m such a lucky girl,” you yawned. Poe chuckled.

“You need sleep.”

“Come with me?”

“I don’t know,” Poe leaned against the couch, relaxing into his spot. “My couch is pretty comfortable.”

You sighed loudly and dramatically, sliding off of Poe’s lap.

“Suit yourself.” You flashed him a cheeky smile. “I’m sure Beebs will be happy to keep your spot warm.”

The flicking of light switches turning off echoed behind you as you walked into Poe’s room and climbed into his bed. Poe got in next to you, settling onto his side and looking down at you.

“How’s your head?”

“It hurts.”

“What’s your name?”

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure your minor concussion hasn’t become worse,” you gave him a look. “Humor me, please?”

You rolled your eyes. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

“Who am I?”

“You’re Poe Dameron, my incredibly sexy and kind and wonderful boyfriend.”

Poe smiled down at you,

“What day of the week is it?”

“Friday. Well, technically Saturday now.”

Poe nodded, content with your answers. He then pressed a kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, you placed a hand on his cheek to stop him from moving away. You gazed up at him, like you were memorizing every inch of his face. Lifting your head, you placed your lips on his for the second time, this time with a tenderness only lovers shared. Poe’s eyes were soft when you pulled back.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” you whispered, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Poe leaned down and kissed your lips, the tip of your nose, and then your forehead before relaxing his head onto your pillow and pulling you into him. Your arms encircled him, your head nuzzling into his chest.

On a night you think you wouldn’t be able to sleep, it welcomed you like the familiar arms that held you.

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#poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader insert #back to you series #modern au #modern poe dameron #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron angst #poe dameron x reader

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brianc521 · 5 years

Text

Play | CEO Peter

You were determined not to let the churning in your gut ruin your night. Damn it you had plans.

Trying to avoid the flu was almost a joke, it was flying through your employee list faster than they were recovering. Something was going around it wasn’t going to stop until it took you all down. It was your turn now.

This though, no it didn’t work for you. Peter had a launch dinner tonight. Which means a huge crowd of people. Means, Karrie Ryden and her disapproving judgemental looks. Means Nick Ryden stealing Peter all night to discuss work. Means Sheryl and Ken’s offhanded comments about how your marriage will be a failure.

It sounds awful, and it probably will be, but it was the afterparty you were looking forward too. Peter hasn’t been much of, well, himself since you left the last time. You haven’t been his Kitten. And you want to be. You’re ready for him. You had plans to show him that, to have your Daddy back.

Having the flu ruins that, because what man wants his Kitten when she's holding back her lunch contents?

Sitting in your car on the way home Peter calls, his smooth voice filling your car.

“Hey Baby I had a late meeting, I’m not gonna have enough time to meet you at home. So I’ll have Bailey drive you to dinner and I’ll just meet you there okay?”

“Pet-”

“Wear the blue dress, it’ll match the tie I’m wearing tonight.”

With that the line cut and you sighed, you’ll just have to fight through the fever you were absolutely sure you were spiking.

After popping a few headache painkillers, breathing through the fifth wave of nausea and taking a cold shower to fight off the heat you were sweating through you finally made it to the dinner, a little late.

You walked in and smiled at the crowd that greeted you by the door. The second you stepped into the dining room you had to hold your breath. The scent of dinner had your stomach bubbling in a bad way and the heat of the room had you feeling slightly dizzy.

The girls got to you first, demanding to see your ring and wanting to talk about wedding plans, not even giving you a second to really greet them. You were struggling, majorly, and no one cared to notice.

Well, except the man in the corner of the room. He knew you better than you knew yourself. He was awaiting your arrival, and the air changed for him when you walked in the door. It’s like his energy changes when you're near. He figured he’d hang back a minute, let the girls have their fun with you, but when he caught sight of your pale demeanor and fake pained smile he set his drink down and be-lined straight for you.

“Ladies,” His smooth voice cut through the high pitched gossiping. They parted and stared at the two of you curiously. “May I steal my girl?” He grinned, showing off a cool approach when he was really shaking on the inside, nervous as to why you looked so, off?

He held his hand out for you, and you slipped your clammy one into his. He looked down at your intertwined hands, brows furrowing at the feel of yours. He tugged you closer, taking you off to the side of the room. You didn’t say anything, just looked at his chest for a moment, allowing yourself to settle before you hurled all over his expensive suit.

“Honey?”

You didn’t respond, just looked up with glassy eyes. His softened at your stare and his worried gaze inspected your face. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead and he pulled back in shock at the heat radiating off of you.

“You’re running a fever.” He gasped, looking around to signal Bailey for the car. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” He started to move, rushing around you to grab your coat and purse that you don’t remember setting down at his table.

“Peter.” He grabbed his bicep.

“What Sweetheart?”

“I need you to stop moving.” You gulped. Clinging to his arm.

“What’s the matter?” He hushed his voice, dipping his head into your ear.

“I’m trying not to get sick all over your suit, please stop moving for a moment.” You hissed through clenched teeth.

“Oh Baby.” He whipped his phone out, clicking it once and pressing it to his ear. “Where are you?” He spit, and then looked down at you. “Pull back around.” He shook his head, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “No, she’s sick. We’re leaving.” He sighed and dropped his head. “Call me next time.”

With that he hangs up his phone and stuffs it back in his pocket. “Okay, I’m okay.” You nod looking up at him.

“We’re leaving, Bailey’s pulling back around. He didn’t even get to park yet.”

“What? No, Peter we have-”

“You’re sick,” He chuckles, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “You come first, you know that. We’re going home, you’re gonna take a bath, and we’re gonna rest for the night. Tell me what hurts?”

“My stomach,” You sigh. “I’ve been trying not to throw up all day.”

“Baby,” He looks into your eyes. You know what he’s trying to say without having to say it.

“No,” You shake your head. “I’m not, it’s the flu. It’s been going around work, I just got done.” You gave him a look, reminding him that your period just ended.

He sighs, looking down, “Okay well then you need fluids and rest. Let’s go, are you okay to walk outside?”

He brushes a hand from your forehead, checking your fever, as you stir. You look at him in a panic, not remembering getting home.

“Calm down Baby.” He whispers, smiling softly at you. “We’re home, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“What happened?” You croak, looking at him with eyes.

“You fell asleep on my lap during the drive home. I carried you in and helped you get ready for bed, then tucked you in.”

“Oh,” You took note of your body, feeling your favorite sleep shorts brushing your thighs, and his NASA shirt adorning your torso. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Of course, Wife.” He grins, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Care to explain why I found you the way I did? We should have never gone.”

“I wanted to push through for you.” You look at him from under your lashes.

“And pushing through had nothing to do with the way I found the house this evening when we arrived?”

You think back and then balk in panic. You’d left a bottle of wine in the fridge, glasses and rose petals in the kitchen, candles and slow sultry music in the bedroom. You planned to seduce your husband when you got home.

You hide in embarrassment, covering your face with the duvet.

“Hey,” He pulls at the cover, “Don’t hide from me.” He tsks, cupping your face with his hands. “You had plans tonight?”

“I wanted to go back to being us.” You whisper.

“When have we not been us?” He asks, eyes squinting. “I was under the impression that we are as good as we’ve ever been.”

“We are!” You argue, sitting up.

“Hey, take it easy.” He whines, hands moving to slow you down. Ready to reach for a bucket if you needed it. Instead you steadied yourself by breathing deeply, and when you opened your eyes he was holding a glass of water for you. “Small sips, and in a minute you’ll have some dry toast.”

“Okay.”

“Back to that conversation, do you feel we’re not strong?”

“Of course not, we’re stronger than ever.”

“Then?” He raises an eyebrow.

“But I’m Baby.” You sigh.

“Yes.” He nods.

“Not Kitty.”

He rears back as if you slapped him. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I am. I love us, and I love you. I love where we are, and how we’ve grown. I love that we’re married, but just because we’re married doesn’t mean we have to be boring.”

“Boring?” His mouth curls up in a teasing grin. “You think our sex life is boring? Do I bore you Mrs.Mendes?”

You smack his shoulder and grin at him. “I think you know the answer to that question.”

“Do I? Do you fak-”

“Shut up Peter.” You shove him, giggling softly. “Of course not, I don’t think I could, I mean one you can read me like a book. Two, there’s no need, my husband knows how to provide for a girl.”

“A girl? No.” He shakes his head, leaning closer, next to your ear. “My wife? Most definitely.”

“I just, I don’t want you to miss anything we had before.”

“I promise you,” He threads his fingers with yours. “I love what we have, and where we are in our marriage.”

“What if I miss it a little?”

“You miss it?”

“You just,” You sigh. “You seem reserved with me now. Like I’m fragile, can’t handle it the way I used to. I can, I’m still me.”

“Baby.” He sighs, dropping his head. “I know you can, I know that. I just, I don’t want to be that way so much anymore. Trust me I love the kinky hot sex. I do totally, but I don’t really want to look back in 40 years and be like, oh yeah the day I got her pregnant with my first born she was ball gagged and bound to the bed.”

You gasp at his words. “Pregnant?”

“We haven’t totally talked about it, but I thought when you stopped taking the pill and told me I didn’t need to use a condom we were lowkey trying?”

“I don’t know, it was my way of saying we’re not trying but we’re not avoiding either.”

“Mine too.” He nods, squeezing your hands. “I just, I want to make love with you.”

You swoon at his words, sighing. “Now you make me seem like a sexcrazed bitch.”

“Hey,” He furrows his brows. “Don’t speak of my wife like that please.” He reprimands. “I’m hearing you. So let’s compromise.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows, scheming glint in his eyes. “For as much as we aren’t trying and not avoiding, we can play too okay?”

“Okay.”

“But Baby,” His voice drops. “While we play,” He sighs, “I want to wear a rubber.”

You look at him and study his face. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want you to be my Baby Mama, but it just doesn't feel good in my gut to do it that way. That’s fun and play, the down and dirty that brought us together. It’s not the love that kept us together.”

“You’re too good for this world Peter Mendes.”

“You’re too good for me Mrs.Mendes.” He responds, leaning over and grabbing the plate of toast he made you. “Small bites, need my Baby feeling better.”

You smile at him, taking a small bite. “I love you, thank you for talking with me.”

“You just had to ask Kitty, I’ll always wanna play.” He winks, stealing a bite of your toast and padding away to the bathroom to get ready for bed as well.

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