#-fever an entire day later when my legs could not support me anymore

[teabutmakeitazure]

On this fine Monday afternoon I am suffering from an eye infection in both of my peepers

[psychogirlfriendandsupervillain]

Leading Question

One shot (ish)

Benny Watts x Reader*

(* Reader wears a skirt, has hair long enough to pull (like anything longer than a buzzcut) and a vagina, so anyone who identifies with that: it’s free real estate. I am considering writing a copy that is fully gender-neutral, so if anyone wants that let me know (although I’m likely to do it anyway).)

Content/warning tags: NSFW, 18+, Smut (but it’s the slowest pacing smut, talking slow-burn but they’re both already in the bed, no joke), fluff?, friends to lovers, mention of alcohol, swearing, oral (male receiving), making out, heavy petting, really a whole lotta kissing, porn with no plot?, the porn is the plot, foreplay more like half the fucking play, hair pulling kink, mention of knife kink, sex, plotted during a figurative and literal fever, edited during a figurative and literal heat wave, we love it here.

Summary: Benny half-confesses to his attraction to the reader during a night at the bar and reader takes his clumsily put question and turns it into a homerun.

Word Count: 7k (this is what happens when you give me THAT and then take it away)

A/N: Entirely self-indulgent piece of smut thought out during two hours at 4 AM (and then throughout the rest of the day) the day after watching Fork, because I was frustrated and Benny is hot, whoopsie.

@go-catch-a-chickn showed some interest in what I was writing, but I bet you regret that now! Nonetheless, here’s your tag, have fun!

I’m open to criticism, just shoot me a message or an ask. Let me know if I’ve got errors or missed a warning.

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You and Benny were friends since high school. Not because you also played chess, but because you had been making out with your boyfriend in the back of the library and Benny had come looking for a chess book that was on the shelf you were leaning on. You two paused, moved to the side so that he could pull out the book and then he was on his way.

A few days later Benny was in the cafeteria and came up a few cents short, when a voice next to him told the woman at the register that they would pay for his meal as well as their own. He looked over at you as the cashier added your things to the total and you smiled.

“Now you have money over for other things.”

It continued like that for the rest of both of your high school stays. You would catch him in the corridor and strike up conversations before heading off for you next class. When your relationship with your boyfriend ended (mutually, it should be said; he was interested in another girl, you felt the spark wasn’t there anymore), you told Benny after he asked why you looked a little glum. He was supportive but didn’t bring it up again.

Now the two of you are sat at a bar counter, a bottle in front of each of you, as the day is winding down. You meet up like this between his tournaments and whatever else is going on your lives, touchdowns in the well-known amidst it all. The buzz of patrons has calmed down and outside the curtained windows the street is black, broken up by spots of the streetlights.

“Do you-“ Benny stops. He’s half turned towards you, left hand around his beer on the counter, legs facing you, but his eyes are currently at the bottles lined up against the back wall where the bartender is pouring a drink for someone down the line.

You put down your bottle after a sip, resting your hand on it just like he is. Benny starts again.

“What do you do when your dick tells you to sleep with your friend, but your brain tells you it’s not a good idea?” He’s still not looking at you. It’s almost a hypothetical, almost a thought about someone else.

You shrug, taking a last sip before turning forward.

“I don’t know, I follow what my pussy says.” With that you get up and put money on the counter to close your tab, seeing Benny jump in the corner of your eye at your answer. You’re pulling on your coat as you start for the door, slow enough that he’ll catch up no problem.

“Wait.” He’s at your side in no time. “I’ll walk you to your place.” Even in the slight shade of his hat you can see that he’s a bit flustered.

“You sure?” Benny nods. “Otherwise I could walk you to yours. It’s farther.” You push up the inner set of doors and Benny follows you into the dark airlock entryway.

“Why would you want to walk where it’s farther?” He asks behind you,  a frown audible in his voice, and you hold up your hand to signal for him to wait as you push up the second set of doors.

The air rushes against you and the hum of a road somewhere off campus reaches your ears. There’s no one on the walk path running between fields of grass and lines of trees. It’s still too early for the streets to be filled with people getting home from the bars, too late for any overtime workers dragging their feet.

“Honestly?” You turn to Benny, who’s standing with his coat still unbuttoned and arms hanging at his sides, like he isn’t sure what to do with them. “Because I’m hoping to get invited up, and if I’m going to get fucked, I want to be in your bed, surrounded by the scent of you.”

It takes a second. Then he’s a little bit closer. Not that he was far away before, but he’s close enough that when he leans a little forward you don’t have to take a step to close the gap. Your lips run against his, soft and slow, with the slight scratch of his mustache against your skin, warm cotton and leather so close now, and then you step back, absentmindedly swiping your tongue over your own lips to chase his taste. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips.

“Your place or mine?” Benny’s voice is a little rough; maybe it’s the drinking, maybe it’s the kiss.

“Again, yours.” You quirk your lip and reach to catch Benny’s hand, warm in yours. Pulling him into motion you start walking in the direction of his apartment, shoes echoing against the asphalt.  

“I’m not sure I will make it that far.” He sounds a bit tortured, and you laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you make it. And if you don’t, I’ll help you clean up and wait for you.”

Benny makes a noise.

“Tell me about Open Sicilian.” You look forward at the empty road as you walk.

“What?” He looks at you.

“To distract you, explain Open Sicilian to me.” He has explained that particular tactic to you several times before, not that it necessarily stuck too well.

“That’s not going to help!” Benny throws head back with a frustrated laugh. The sound makes your stomach flutter. “You’re going to make me tell you about chess, and then ask questions, to keep me distracted? Like you showing sincere interest in it isn’t going to just make it harder to focus.” He shakes his head, looking out over the empty street. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You would have gotten there quicker if Benny hadn’t stopped at every tree, stone wall, and doorway to push you against it and kiss you. He even sat down on a bench when you were halfway and pulled you down into his lap. You let yourself be pulled down but wouldn’t go along with his attempts to make you straddle him, despite his hand on your inner thigh through your skirt and his insistent, chasing kisses.

As you reach the building you let go off Benny’s hand so he can punch in the code for the door. He leads you up the hollow stairwell to his door, noisily unlocks it and lets you in before him.

It’s a short hallway with doors leading off to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, lit by some cool light falling in from the open doorway to the kitchen. There are hooks for jackets with a pile of shoes beneath it to one side, and a table holding a phone and newspapers further in.

The lock clicks behind you and Benny turns around, dropping his keys back down in his coat pocket. Just as he faces you, you push him back against the door. Shock flashes in his eyes and his lips part but when you place your against his he quickly responds, pushing back against you, his tongue running against your bottom lip, inviting you to taste it. It’s with difficulty that you pull back.

“Okay, I lied.” You admit as you get onto your knees, looking back up at him. “Can I?”

Benny’s breaths are unsteady, and you have to ask him to repeat it before you can clearly hear him consent.

You hum, pushing aside his leather coat to hold his hips back against the door, pulling his belt out from its loops so you can undo the buckle. Benny closes his eyes and groans as you let the belt with his knife still attached fall back against his legs and undo his button and zipper.

“Don’t be too loud, you don’t want the neighbors to hear you, do you? Even solid wood doors are thinner than walls.” You wink up at him and he repeats the sound, head leaning back against the door and hips pushing forward. If you didn’t believe Benny before, you definitely would now, as you feel how hard he is through the barriers of fabric. He’s solid and warm against your hands.

Pushing his jeans down, you move his boxers carefully until you can pull them down as well. Precum is leaking down the underside of his erect cock and his hips push forward again, impatiently this time. You circle your hand around him, the other resting against his hip so that maybe he’ll stay in place, not having the patience to start stroking before you take him in your mouth.

The sound Benny makes when your lips close around his cock is far too loud and not loud enough. His breathing audibly speeds up, encouraging you to run your tongue along the underside each time you pull back. Sucking down his cock, you match your movements with those of your hand, creating just the perfect rhythm that has his hips pushing against your other hand. You look up at him, meeting his eyes as you circle his tip with your tongue and he pinches his eyes closed, turning his head back up and cutting off the whine escaping his throat. You swallow around him, and the whine comes back, ending in a high pitch. You do it again. His hand pushes lightly against your shoulder, and you pull off him, sitting back and licking your lips as he meets your eyes.

“I don’t want to finish before we’ve even started.” His words are low, his hand falling back against the side of his coat. You shift your legs on the floor.

“Shame, I want you to.” You smile and bite your lip. “I told you I’d help clean you up and wait after. I’m in no rush.” Benny’s hips jerk forward again.

“Fuck” His eyes flutter shut.

“Can I?” You wait for the sound of his yes before you lick a line from the base to the head, reveling in how little he is holding back this time. Pushing his hips back a little rougher against the door to keep him in his place you earn a moan of your name which has your stomach fluttering and head spinning. One of his hands rest on your shoulder again but isn’t pushing away this time. He lets you decide the speed, albeit with the occasional jerk of his hips as he hisses and braces against the door.

“Fuck, I’-” You feel Benny tensing and look up to see him looking down on you, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw. “Fuck” He slams his head back against the door, hips pushing him further in, and you can feel the vibrations emitting from his chest all the way in the back of your throat as he releases into your mouth. You swallow it down, catching the whimper Benny makes at the feeling it gives his cock.

When you get to your feet, Benny head is hanging so the brim of his hat casts his face in shadow and he’s leaning so heavily against the door you’re not sure he’ll be standing much longer. His breathing is loud in the quiet apartment, and you can’t help the pride growing in the back of your mind. Still breathing heavily, Benny finally lifts his head enough to look at you. You meet his eyes and swipe your tongue over your lips.

His eyes flicker down to follow the movement and he groans, slumping back against the door. You smile triumphantly.

“Let’s get your clothes back on and then I’ll get water.” You help Benny get his pants back on, refastening the buckle. He’s not standing entirely stable, but enough that you can slide his coat down his arms and hang it up, followed by his hat, before you sit him down on a stool right by the door. Having hung up your own coat and switched on the lights you gesture to the kitchen door. “Do you mind?” Benny shakes his head, blond hair falling in his eyes.

You fill two glasses from the tap, throwing a glance at your watch, before returning to him. Handing one to Benny you drink the other, both of you listening to him regaining control over his breathing while you empty the glasses. As you take your last sip you place both on the hallway table and toe off your shoes.

“Want to move out of the hallway?” You hold your hand out to Benny and he’s standing before you’ve had a chance to blink.

You get precisely two steps into Benny’s bedroom before he’s kissing you again. His tongue runs softly against yours, contrasting with the scratch of his beard. He won’t even let you move forward, blocking you with his body until his hands have found their place on your hips, and even then standing stronger than you’d expect from how he looked a minute ago.

Every kiss he chases after you, when you move to the side so does he, when your tongue touches his lips his tongue comes to greet it. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating, his body heat rising and seeping through his button up and your shirt, the warm scent of leather still lingering in the air around him.

Then Benny moves backwards, pulling you with him three quick steps, refusing to let your lips part for even a second, and lets you fall on top of him on his bed.

You pull back, insisting despite his protests. He managed to switch some light on before getting lost in you, letting you full appreciate the shine in his dark eyes when he looks up at you as you brush blond strands out of his eyes. Flittering over you above him, they keep coming back to meet yours, a playful smile on his lips. You lean back down and let him capture your lips again, his hands splaying one on your back, one running up and down your side. Chasing his smile you kiss the corners of his mouth, dipping your tongue in to meet his. It’s like you’ll never run out of places to taste him.

Straightening back up and moving so you’re straddling him, you undo the first buttons of your shirt, but Benny’s hands stop yours, taking over their work with slow precision. He pulls you back down so he can continue kissing you even if it makes it harder for him to get the buttons undone, not that that seems his top priority. Sitting up and sliding the fabric down your arms Benny throws it in some corner of the room, pulling you closer against him by your hips.

“Easy, tiger.” You hum against his lips and Benny laughs a little, shifting further back on the bed and letting you both fall back against the mattress again, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His necklaces are cool against your skin, but his hands are on fire. They run over your back and sides, up one down the other, and leave nothing but further fires under your skin. Even his rings don’t feel cold as Benny brushes his fingers up your arm to cup your head, tongue skimming your lip but withdrawing whenever you try to catch it.

Pulling back for the first time, Benny looks up at you with a mischievous smile.

“If I had known telling you I like you would lead to this, I would’ve told you already five years ago.”

Not that you’d really been open to anything at that time. Five years ago, and the five that followed, you had been entirely focused on your academics, and the only person you really hung out with had been Benny. He brought his chess books and sat with you in the library while you read up for exams. You’d chat about everything while trying to cram every bit of knowledge into your tired brains. That really only slowed down once you graduated, the hyper-focus on reading every book and spending hours writing notes over bad coffee.

“Do you want to like” You look up at the head pillows laying vertically to your bodies, and Benny starts laughing, luring you into doing the same. “move up?”

“Sure” He lets go of you so you can both get higher on the bed, but the second you’re close enough Benny pulls you back over him. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” You smile and lean down halfway. Amused you watch Benny push up to meet you, hungry lips convincing you to push him back down into the mattress.

You can’t help the occasional shifting of your hips against his, underwear pushing against the friction of jeans below your skirt. His hands skim the hem of it, but never ventures below it, favoring to run up to your hips and draw you closer.

Running his hands up your back to hold you against him, Benny rolls you over onto your back. Settling between your legs, he braces one arm above you while the other cups the side of your head, lifting just enough for your lips to reach his.

“You know, for later, we’re still on your bed.” You remind him before kissing the corner of his mouth. Benny’s lips quirk and he follows you back down against the pillow.

“I know.” He runs his nose along the side of your neck, the chains around his sliding against your skin. Warm cotton and leather surround you, and this might actually be heaven.

Pushing back a bit Benny reaches up to undo his green button up but stops when you give him a look.

“Isn’t it my turn now?”

Benny lets go off the button and shows his hands, dropping them to your hips as you reach up, undoing the first button before pulling him down by his collar. His smile meets yours, and it only gets bigger for every button, as the release of each is met with the same celebration.

When there are no more buttons to open you slide the fabric out from his pants and down his bare arms. Holding the shirt out in one hand you look at Benny, whose eyes are locked on yours, his lips kiss-bruised.

“Does this have to be folded on a chair” You tilt your head. “or can I just throw it?”

“Throw it.” His eyes sparkle, his voice hitting a little lower and sending vibrations where your body is touching his.

The green fabric flutters to rest at the far end corner of the bed in your peripheral vision. You weren’t really looking where you were throwing.

“It didn’t even get off the bed.” You speak very seriously, as if it was a grave matter, but you’re absorbed by Benny, whose eyes are as stuck in yours as yours are in his. “If you want it off, you’ll have to throw it yourself.”

His arms shift above you, and without moving away from you or breaking eye contact Benny kicks the shirt, sending it tumbling of the edge with a soft thud as it hits the floor. You push your hips up against his, the hilt of the knife at his belt pressing against the inside of your thigh. Benny’s hips thrust back against yours and he lowers down to brush his lips against yours before devouring you again. Your thighs slide against his bare skin, and he reaches back to hook them further over his hips, swiping his tongue along yours. When Benny pulls back slightly the sound he makes fills the room, bouncing off the walls. The end of it mixes with the sigh of his name pulled from your lips as he dips the tip of his tongue into the corner of your mouth.

“Think we’ll wake the neighbors?” You lift off the bed to chase after him, not giving him a chance to reply, pushing him over onto his back. His hips shift against yours as he settles into the mattress.

“The walls are thicker than the door.” He looks up at you straddling him, his lips quirking up into a smile, blond hair falling over his eyes again. Satisfied with his answer you lower your body back down over his, occupying his mouth with yours again.

From slow, insistent kisses where Benny’s tongue runs against yours, you move to kiss the corners of his lips, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, and his eyelids as he closes his eyes. Continuing down his chin, alternatingly placing kisses on either side of his neck, and one at the dip at the base of his throat, passing over his chains, you shift back to trail down the right side of his chest. As your lips touch between navel and the top of his jeans, brushing along the fabric, Benny touches the side of your head.

“Don’t you dare do it again.” His tone is light and teasing, with just an edge of breathlessness and seriousness.

You move up to kiss his left hip and his hand falls back onto the mattress.

“I won’t.”

You trail back up Benny’s irregularly moving chest, out his right upper arm, and lift his hand. Pressing two more soft kisses to his inner forearm, you place one in the middle of his palm and one to the tip of each finger, before beginning again at his sternum and doing the same to his left arm.

Raising back up you push Benny’s hair from his eyes, inviting the light to dance with the sparks already in them.

“Benny Watts, you are a drug.” You smile a little breathlessly and shake your head down at him. The corners of Benny’s mouth start to raise, and he quickly swipes his tongue up to pull down his upper lip and bites down on his lower.

His attempts fail and when you kiss Benny, he’s beaming, a satisfied sound emitting from the chest pressed against yours. His heartbeats translate through your ribcage and your sentiment is repeated in your mind with a flutter in your stomach.

Ringed hands shift from your hips to your back to hold you closer against him. Somehow, you’ve forgotten Benny’s knife because you can’t even feel it at this point. You only feel the friction of his body against your, the pull of his lips.

“You should be in prison.” His tongue swipes into your mouth at that, stalling your continuation with a dizzying taste. “You should be in jail, and I should be in the same cell with you.” The vibrations of Benny’s laugh and twist of his lips reach your senses at the same time as the push of his hips. Combined they’re enough to make you say his name against his lips, repeating it when he does it again.

Lifting off the mattress Benny’s hands holds your hips down against his as he sits up, lips running down the side of your neck when they slip from yours. The scratches against your skin turn into fire running through your veins, out into your arms and fingertips as you run them over his bare shoulders, along the chains around his neck. You barely hear the sound of your name slip from his tongue against the crook of your shoulder, before Benny turns to make you fall first back into the mattress.

Benny’s hands run from your hips to the hem of your skirt, warm fingers tracing bare skin. You lift your hips against his and he pulls back, but only after sucking your lip into his mouth, swiping it with his tongue.

“Want me to get it off?”

“It’s mostly in the way at this point.” Having gotten his answer, Benny eases the skirt down, letting you lift your hips and moving so he’s not in the way. When it’s all the way off he throws the fabric the same way as your shirt, or maybe the opposite. You can’t remember.

Leaning back over you Benny brushes his lips against yours, meeting you when you arch up against him, then lets himself kiss you fully again. His hips push yours down into the mattress before he pulls them back up towards him. You roll back against him, crossing your legs behind Benny’s back, and he hisses against your lips. The sound of you saying his name causes the grind of his hips to stutter, restart, a low sound resonating in his chest, sending its aftershocks through your body as his hands squeeze your thighs a little harder.

One moves to skim the inside of your knee, hot fingers with warm rings running over equally heated skin. When it reaches the junction of your thigh and hip it slides up along the edge of your underwear and then drops beside your side to support his weight as Benny brings his other hand to hover between your legs and pulls away from your lips.

“Can I?” His dark eyes shimmer.

“Yes.” Since you can’t hear your own voice over the increased speed of your heartbeat you repeat it twice, catching the way Benny’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip as his eyes flicker down.

He runs his knuckles down the slick, wet fabric. You think you hear a breathed-out curse but are distracted when fingertips retrace the same path with just enough pressure to make your hips roll against them. The feeling is dizzying, your breathing skips. Benny’s dark eyes flick back up to yours. Then he does it again, sending sparks where the pads of his fingers almost touch you. Your eyes almost flutter at the way he looks at you when your breathing stops again to become what might have been a curse, or his name, or the curse of his name. The last one in particular feels likely as the sound twists and grows louder, and Benny’s eyes are locked on yours.

Pressing back into his bed you roll your hips against his, his hands planted back on either side of you as he lowers back down to press starved kisses to your mouth. Hips lift off yours, only to change their mind and push back down, accompanied by a curse against the corner of your lips. When Benny’s bottom lip slides against yours, you pull it into your mouth and lightly push down your teeth into it. His left arm buckles as you swallow the sound of his groan.

With little effort you coax Benny onto his back. He willingly falls down onto the pillow, rings sliding against your back as he tries to entice you into press against him. His fingers trail down, skimming along the edge of your underwear until they reach the front, barely touching the waistband, eyes flicking up to yours.

You give permission before Benny even has a chance to open his mouth.

The pads of his fingers push past the fabric, running softly your body until your breathing hitches as they lightly slip over your clit. You resist the urge to close your legs around his hand but can’t help the way your breathing audibly increases when it moves further down. Bare skin slides against your wet folds, stroking up and down; the movement slow and deliberate, and far too good for you hold it out for much longer.

You make a sound.

“Explain Closed Sicilian to me.” Your voice is strained, and you are trying very hard to not focus on every slight change in pressure Benny is subjecting you to right now. Another noise slips out and you bury your face against his chest, rolling your hips involuntarily against his hand. “Please, please explain it to me.”

“Now?” Benny’s other hand pushes against your hip.

“If you don’t, I’m going to come, and I’ve waited this long so I’d rather you didn’t do that before you’re actually inside me.” You lift your head to look up at him, quickly adding “Then again, you talking about that is just going to make it worse, so maybe don’t.” You did not need his eyes lighting up and his confidence going thrice its size because he was talking about something he really, really liked. That was bound to make your situation become much better and much worse really quick.

Benny looks like he’s about to protest before making a face and withdrawing his hand.

“Alright, fine.” He rolls you onto your back and kisses you hard, raising his hips as much as possible but keeping you down with his chest.

Letting you up to breathe Benny’s hands go to his belt, pulling it fully out of the loops this time. He catches the handle off his knife as it slides off the leather and off-handedly places it down on your stomach so he can roll the leather around his hand.

You must have done something as the sheath fell flat or as your eyes shifted up and back down again because Benny’s eyes flick from the belt in his hands to your eyes and then he smiles.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for knives too.” He teases.

“Listen” You’re a little too breathless for any type of denying being at all believable and it’s visible in Benny’s eyes how little he would actually believe you if you tried. “Messing with that takes practice and discussions, so let’s put a pin in that. I like seeing you get off, let’s leave it at that for now.”

He tilts his head like ‘fair enough’, finishes rolling up his belt and puts both that and the knife out of view to your left.

You reach up to brush Benny’s hair to the side where it’s over his eyes again, letting your fingers linger just above his ear. There’s something very recognizable about the slight way his eyes move at the gesture.

“Do you- like having your hair pulled?” You ask tentatively, and when Benny doesn’t answer right away you continue “You don’t have to say yes.”

It takes a second longer, and you start to pull your hand away before he shifts his eyes away and rolls his shoulders.

“So what if I do?” Benny glances back at you.

“I’ll tell you what” You smile encouraging, guiding the topic to focus on yourself instead to make him more comfortable. “you’d be in good hands; I like it both ways.” Benny visibly relaxes but you don’t move your hand back, favoring to slide it along his jaw to stop below his lower lip.

Softly tilting his head down, you give the slightest pressure.  He follows down to peck your lips before drawing back to meet look at you again, hands rubbing reassuringly over your thighs. The pad of your thumb rests against Benny’s bottom lip, and you tilt your head, trying to read out the thoughts that form and disperse behind his eyes. The corner of his lip quirks up and he dips his head down to catch the finger in his mouth. The flat of his tongue maps your fingerprint, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You make a noise, shooting him a glare as he looks far too smug when you pull your hand back to press it against his back instead. The expression doesn’t leave his lips when you push his side to get him down, as a matter of fact he looks offensively at home against his pillow, shuffling further into it before beaming up at you again. Unable to stop yourself you scoff, trying to look annoyed but failing spectacularly.

“Think you’re ready to go again, if you want to?” You look at your watch, pinching the face of the clock to keep it so you can read the time. “It’s been an hour.”

“You still have your watch on?” Benny reaches up to pull your arm down so he can look at it.

You laugh.

“Well, you didn’t take it off me.” You let him turn your hand over, undoing the watch and looking at it for a second before handing it to you. Leaning over him you put it on the empty nightstand to your left.

“I’m so glad you’ve got two nightstands.” You hum, leaning back to resettle over his hips.

Thinking for a second, Benny makes a face, a mixture between a frown and scrunching up his face.

“It doesn’t make sense to only have one nightstand.” He states, eyes flicking back to yours. Smiling at his answer you bend down to peck his lips.

“That’s what I like about you, Benny Watts. Things can’t just be for you; they have to make sense.” Continuing in the same light tone you add “I might even go as far as to say I love you.”

“Woah, you’re just gonna show your hand like that?” Benny mimics shock, before smiling, his hands rubbing your hips reassuringly. “Throw the whole game?” You snort a little, moving your eyes to the wall, schooling your expression to be serious.

“As if you didn’t show your hand back at the bar.” You tilt your head exaggerated, pretend thought.  “And earlier, now that you mention it.”

“I said liked.” Just like you, Benny is pressing his lips together to prevent himself from laughing, and even then, a smile cracks through.

“I’ll give you that, you did say like.”

Benny pulls you down, kissing you with a smile. Letting yourself sink into it you push down against him, swallowing the sound he makes and feeling his heart beating through his chest. His hands pull your hips closer to his to repeat the motion. His breathing increases as you do it infinitely slower this time, feeling you press against him, although you can’t say you are doing any better.

“Ready?” You laugh breathlessly and Benny groans, pushing his head back into the pillows.

“I was ready half an hour ago.”

“Well, good sex takes preparation. And this is going to be good.” Straightening up you putting the base of your hand on Benny’s chest, holding your index in front of his face to shush him. “No, no, it’s going to be, because I’ll make it so.”

Instead of arguing, with sparkling eyes Benny favors to bend his head forward and close his mouth around your finger, sucking while you talk. His tongue swirls around the digit and the corner of his lips quirk up when you make a sound, mind drifting before you catch it.

“Asshole.” Benny’s eyes light up mischievously at that, and when you pull your hand back, he raises his eyebrows.

“Oh you wan-?”

You cut him off.

“Shut up.” The bed shakes with Benny’s laughter, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him. He’s really having too much fun.

When his laughter calms down, Benny looks at you for a second before sitting up.

“Come on”

He nudges you sideways until you get the hint and get off him, letting him get off the bed. Benny offers his hand to pull you up after him. When you’re both on your feet he turns back and in one quick motion rips off the covers, throwing the corner to the middle so the bed is folded half-open diagonally but not all the way down.

You’re just letting your underwear drop onto the floor when Benny turns back around, and he catches up with you in the time it takes you to blink. He holds his hand out again, pulling you with him backwards.

Jut before his legs hit the bed Benny sidesteps, pulling you down first onto the bed and following, catching himself on his arm so he doesn’t fall directly on top of you.

Settling between your legs, Benny tilts his head with a cheeky smile.

“Comfortable now?”

You make a show of settling into the pillow, trying to divert his attention from the way you pull air deep into your lungs. It’s in the pillow, the sheets, the air vibrating around you with tension, but most of all it’s above you, radiating from him. The warm, slightly sweet, smell of clean cotton shirts pulled from the tumbler, a bed slept in until well past noon, and sun-heated leather in the first days of summer.

“Yes.” You smile up at him.

“Good.” Benny lowers down over you and presses his lips to yours, tongue running over your lip once before slipping into your mouth. You hum while he pulls protection from a drawer of one of the nightstands above your field of vision and pulls it on.

Fingers skim lightly over the wetness gathered between your legs, and then Benny pushes into you. It sends lightning through your stomach, sliding slowly, almost torturously, against sensitive nerve endings. His breath is slow and controlled, albeit a bit wavering. Solid warmth spreads from his body into yours and your body clenches involuntarily around him when he stills, breath warming the side of your neck. Your hands run up his sides to find purchase.

“You’re gonna mark me?” You ask the ceiling and Benny shifts, running his nose against your throat and giving you chills.

“You want me to?” His hips pull back slightly, and you close your eyes at the slow drag of his cock against your inner walls. As Benny pushes back in, one hand disappears from beside you, moving your hand from his back to his hair. Sparks dance up your spine when he thrusts a little quicker, igniting you both like a match against a striking surface. Benny makes a sound in the back of his throat before kissing you again.

Carding your fingers through his hair near his scalp you pull lightly. The way his hips jerk forward has you arching against him, moan mixing with his. Tension builds in your stomach and if the room was hot before it is blazing now. Benny presses against you, overwhelming and perfect, filling you. Your hips lift off the bed to meet his, legs crossed behind his back to pull him closer. The drag of his abdomen against you in just the right place has you whining against his lips. His next thrust is faster, causing your body to clench down, approaching the edge fast.

“I’ve waited this long to fuck a master; you better not make this be over quick.” Your hips arch against his despite your breathless words.

“You call an hour and a half quick?” Benny asks in disbelief, but the roll of his hips slows to delightfully slow, burning pulls. He closes his eyes, breathing becomes deliberately slowed. “I’m not going to last long no matter how slow I go.”

“That’s okay, neither am I.” You quirk the corner of your lip as Benny opens his eyes again and pull him back down to your lips. Trying to starve of your orgasm you focus on tasting every corner of his mouth. It seems to have the opposite effect on Benny, as he whines and his hips stutter. One of his arms buckle and you pull your hand free to direct his to your hair before going back to his.

The first slow drag releases a satisfied noise from you, and the slight sting of the next sends a thrill down your body, connecting with where Benny’s cock pushes into you. He slides his tongue against yours, pulling your head close to his.

“Fuck” The word falls from both of your mouths as your fingers pulls the blond strands they’re tangled in, and Benny’s hips jerk forward. You push your hand against his lower back to push him down, deeper, and he pulls your hips up with his free hand, grinding against you. His eyes glitter with pride when you arch, pressing your head into the pillow, mouth falling open.

Unsatisfied, Benny slows even further, changing thrusts for slow grinds, watching you trying to make a sound with a smile, heels pressing into his lower back. Your eyes flutter, trying desperately to stay open, pleasure coursing through you in unrelenting waves. Meeting his eyes, you jerk your hand a little harder in Benny’s hair, and the sound he produces almost has you falling.

His hand pushes between your bodies as he moves faster again. The pleasure is hot and fast, and as Benny pulls your lips to his it explodes, fire shooting through your veins in search of oxygen and shaking your entire body. He swallows the cries of his name falling from your lips, but then his hips stutter and slipping from your lips he repays the praise. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s so fucking hot.

Benny drops his head in the crook of your neck, weakly trying to hold himself up. Your chest pushes against his until both your accelerated breathing reaches the same rhythm. There is pleasant ache starting to make itself known, one you’re sure you’ll be feeling tomorrow, and perhaps the day after that.

Softly you push Benny over and he lets himself be rolled onto his back, still inside you. Head landing on the pillow he takes a few more breaths before his eyes pop open. When they meet yours there is a content smile on his lips, with only a hint of unsedated hunger still visible in his dark eyes. He reaches forward to meet your smiling kiss and lets you pull off him and roll onto the mattress beside him.

After a few seconds of just the sound for your breathing your voice comes alive again.

“I hope we didn’t wake anyone.”

Benny starts laughing, breathlessly and beautifully, and you scrunch your nose playfully at him.

“I hope we did.” He looks at you, eyes brilliant, and adds in a more serious tone. “I think they’re all asleep so they can get up at a reasonable hour tomorrow.”

You reach over and pull your watch from the nightstand.

“Two isn’t a reasonable hour to be up?” Benny snorts a laugh at your fake naiveté as you settle back into the bed.

There’s a few more seconds of silence before he talks again.

“I still only made you come once.” Benny looks at you, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up; the hunger more than unsated now.

“That’s okay” You smile teasingly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, you did all the hard work.”

Benny doesn’t find an answer to that, but you have a feeling neither of you think two is very late at all.

[yanderenightmare]

uhm, yandere Katsuki with a small reader... like idk how to explain but fluff fear? like waking up together but all she can think about is how loud he sleeps and how BIG he is, also him being a total bitch about how small she is?

yandere kidnapper ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon mentions, kidnapping, abduction, abuse, degradation

PUFF

Waking up warmer than usual was something she’d gotten terribly used to. 

It had only been a couple days. A couple days in a foreign house without anything to do except prance around in what lingerie Katsuki bothered to give her, or sleep the hours away. Where which the latter was undesirable, because she’d be risking getting snuck up on by the brute predator once he returned. So, she was left walking about, dragging tired limbs through barren hallways, stopping to take in the space of each impersonal room, half-naked and cold in the marble mansion, doing nothing but dreading the time her hero came home. 

And in the absence of things happening, those moments where she was in fact preoccupied with something became so much heavier and longer than what they were in reality. Expanded, to the degree where she could pinpoint almost every single detail within the moment. 

This was one of those moments.

She wanted to focus on the bed, soft material, caky and cloudy beneath her, but it was difficult to ignore the mass behind her. His nose poking into the top of her head, nuzzling in her hair, a good measurement of knowing how close his teeth were to her neck as heavy breaths ran down her neck like a chilling breeze, ticklish and disturbing like crawling mites. His chest, rising, pushing into her back, the beating of his heart rattling her ribcage. His hands, large and so very warm, warmer than they were supposed to be, scathed like sandpaper as they scratched in their presence by rubbing her hip, arms slung around her body haphazardly, caging her, suffocating her, pulling her close, holding her steady, trapping her. 

Like a dragon protecting his treasure, she thought, but quickly discarded of the notion. It sounded too sweet. 

Katsuki wasn’t sweet.

He’d come home yesterday, coated in smog, droplets of blood flecked on his sand-skin in no particular pattern. He didn't shower, he’d only grabbed her and walked off to bed. No words shared, only whimpers and dark, disturbing chuckles. She’d struggled, as much as she could against the brute, but it felt as though he enjoyed that more. Tightening his hold until she swore she began to hear her bones ache, bristle as he squeezed the air from out of her lungs. 

She was happy she was spared his painful cock that night, but she was sure it would be a short-lived mercy.

His hold; though still strong, wasn’t as tight in the morning. She took it as an opportunity to create more space between herself and the fever-heat and blinding smell of caramel. She almost wished she could smell the blood and smoke instead, something bitter to disrupt the sickening sweet. She wished she could smell anything else, but even the smell of herself was overcome by him. She’d walked around the house thinking of it the other day, how it was almost as though he’d scented her, as though they were animals.

He didn’t take lightly to the disturbing of his slumber, grunting and growling, stirring that overbearing sense of fear inside her gut, her stomach folding in every possible way. She didn’t want to stop, she wanted to fight, she wanted to roar. He tightened his arms around her, squeezed her hip, planting her ass better against his crotch and she froze.

He smacked his tongue against his teeth. “Now what?” He coaxed. She expected his voice to sound groggy in the morning, but she’d learned in the past days, it never shed its ugly tone. “You gonna cry?” His voice sounding almost hopeful as he bit down on her earlobe, earning a gasp that along the way turned into a delicious little whimper. She tried clawing at his hand, his own nails digging into her skin. “Do yourself a favor and relax” All his taunting, patronizing overbearing words, dismissive to her discomfort, rather enjoying it, if only she could see the cracked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. She kept struggling despite the obvious futility. “Yer’ not going anywhere, yer’ exactly where you need to be... exactly where you belong.” His tone was casual as he sucked in a breath, sighing with a grumbling growl, still sleepy, yawning behind her, comfortable when squeezing her plushie little form, keeping her close like child with a teddybear. 

But he wasn't enjoying how her legs were kicking, despite the rest of her struggles being teasingly pleasurable.

Pushed down on her back, manhandled into position, he made to move himself between her thighs. Now, with more mistaken freedom, she tried pushing him away. Foolish fists hit against the stiff muscles of his chest, until he grabbed them by the wrists and pinned them above her head. His face so much closer now, but he didn’t kiss her, still longing to hear her speak up, to beg, to plead, to scream. But he remained close, knowing how every one of his words made her heart beat that much faster, and how those especially crude words made her quiver or better yet bleat, like a little lamb beneath him.

“Come on…” He hauled out. She barely made out the words, as far hidden in the growl as they were. His voice tickling her burning ear, his head resting its heavy weight on her arm. “I know I’ve been busy, but…” He spoke as though she wanted to spend more time with him. “It’s my day off.” His voice in singsong, as if she’d be excited, the tone sounding dreadful and wrong when coming from him, dark as it was. But it earned him what he’d been wanting, that soft and struggled sniffle, breath caught in her throat, an uncontrolled shiver breaking the sweet feeble noise.

Content with what he’d reduced her to, he rested his head on the pillow beside her face, his weight laid down upon her in a lifedraining fashion. He hummed, closing his eyes, enjoying her small frame beneath him. In her rightful place, he snickered. Eyes fluttering to look at her pretty face, hand covered in dried blood and smoke as it ascended to tug a lock of hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking over her lips when he made to retract it. The state of his skin made him cringe when he touched the fairness of her complexion. It felt wrong, he admitted. 

They needed to find an even ground.

“Let’s shower, I’m dirty.” She could feel his lips on her ear now, but she was too shell-shocked to snap her head away, knowing what was coming.

In all honesty, she wouldn’t mind a shower. She’d been there a while and didn’t exactly feel clean with him spread, smeared all over her, inside her. But, he’d insisted on being so very close at all times, she was sure the same rules would apply in the shower. 

She tried her best to fight, but it was all so easy to simply grab her arm and pull her with him, yanking on her like a child with a toy. Throwing her inside the large bathroom, with strength that almost had her falling to her knees.

“Take yer’ clothes off.” He commanded, having her backed up against the cold tiles of the walls. “Or… they’re not really your clothes.” He tugged at the black fabric of his shirt, one she’d put on after realizing her own clothes were far from wearable anymore, singed as they were.

Towering over her petite shape, enjoying how she had to tilt her head a drastic degree to stare up at him. 

She was so tiny, it sent pleasurable shivers down his spine to look at her, small like a little pet. His shirt hung around her in the same way you’d expect a tent would, reaching all the way down to her knees, only barely fitting on her narrow shoulders.

She wanted to sound strong. “N- no.” It came out weak.

Snickering, he placed a hand on the wall beside her head. “I was hoping you’d say that…” His smile was so feral, she began wondering if smiles were ever a nice gesture in the first place. Katsuki seemed to do it simply to show her those large teeth stored in his mouth, teeth that could rip her throat out if he were dedicated enough. “Better you learn sooner than later just how helpless you are to stop me getting what I want.” He leaned in closer, stepping further into her space, threatening to crush her toes under the soles of his feet, his much too hot breaths striking her face on repeat. “Weak.” He spat the word, as though it were venom on his tongue. “Defenseless.” It disgusted him, distaste clear in the growl lacing his tone. “Fragile.” 

He’d not gotten exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to scream, whether it was of rage or of fear, didn’t really matter. The tears were no less satisfying though, dribbling down her cheeks, eyes glossy and sparkling.

He grabbed the collar of the t-shirt. She felt the pull, but the tear still came as a surprise. The ripped fabric, now reduced to useless singed rags, pooling around her ankles, and she found herself regretting her wish to smell smoke because the burn of the textile at her feet was not the type of bitter like morning coffee, but bitter in the way that made her eyes sting. Her knees almost gave out when his hand neared her again, his other hand placed above her head, meaning to cage her in between his warmth and the freezing wall behind her. 

Her nipples perked at once when he made contact, which made him smile, hand still hot, much too hot. He cupped one breast in his hand, much too small to fill it entirely. He didn’t seem to mind though.

“So soft…” The disdainful tone was gone, but she found herself missing it as opposed to what lingered in his voice now. “So delicate.” Lust was so terribly more frightening than his distaste. “So…” He licked his lips, a hot breath fanned over her face and goosebumps sprung to the surface of her skin. He hummed in response and she was sure she might just faint. “So sensitive.” She yelped when he pinched. “Mine.” His voice was low and rumbling, hot like raked coals. Tugging down her bottoms as well, she did little to prevent it. 

Not that it would have mattered if she did.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[hobidreams]

june 1869.

you’ve never been able to hide from him.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?

The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.

You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.

“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.

“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”

The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.

Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”

“No, I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.

“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.

“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”

You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.

You took another step forward.

“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.

You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.

“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”

You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”

“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.

“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”

“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.

“We are leaving.”

He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.

All those years ago, you chose to stay.

You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.

Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.

“Su-uinyeo-nim?”

At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”

“The king has requested your company tonight.”

“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.

“Of course.”

The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”

Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.

“Dust. Really.”

You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.

The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.

Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?

“Get on the bed.”

Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.

His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.

“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”

His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.

What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.

“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”

Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.

Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.

While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.

Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”

“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.

It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.

Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.

As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.

It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.

“Um, j-jeon—”

He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.

The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.

“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”

So you do.

You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.

Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.

And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.

[cuddlepilefics]

I’m glad to see you back!! I’m not sure if you are accepting requests but just in case I’d like to request an emeto sick Jooheon with Changkyun as a caretaker! (Can you guess who my biases are lol) I hope you are doing well!!

Sleep well, honey

Fandom: Monsta X

Sickie: Jooheon

Caregiver: Changkyun

Prompt: 'Hot water bottle' @sicktember

No one's POV.:

Monsta X had finally gotten a day off after a long time. Most members wanted to go out and have fun or visit their families, who they haven't seen in a while. The two maknaes however felt tired out from their busy schedules and decided they'd stay at the dorm and sleep in as late as they'd want to, which on Jooheon's case ended up being really late. Changkyung had already been up for two hours and not wanting to wake his friend, made himself a small breakfast before lazing on the couch and watching TV. It was already a bit past lunch time when he started to worry. Sure, they all were exhausted but sleeping this long really was extreme. The youngest decided to give Jooheon thirty more minutes before he'd go and check on him. Those thirty minutes passed with Changkyun unable to focus on the drama he was watching before he got up and quietly made his way to his friend's room. He carefully opened the door just a crack, peaking into the dim room. Apparently, the older rapper was still asleep. Walking closer, Changkyun looked at his hyung. Jooheon was curled up around a pillow, hugging it to his middle. His brows were furrowed, forehead glistening with sweat. Before the younger could feel for a fever though, Jooheon stirred, looking at Changkyun surprised. "Sorry for waking you", the maknae apologized, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Closing his eyes again, Jooheon shook his head and denied: "You didn't, I've already been awake for a while."

Uncomfortable with the silence, Changkyung asked: "Are you okay? I thought I'd check on you, considering how late it is already." – "I-I've got a stomach ache... Can you make it better?", the older groaned, grimacing in pain. As if to prove his point, his stomach grumbled angrily, causing the rapper to squeeze his eyes shut and bury his face in the pillow. Unsure of how he was supposed to make it better, Changkyun offered: "Well, you haven't had breakfast yet. I could make you something light and see if that settles your stomach." Gritting his teeth as a cramp hit, Jooheon shook his head. "Please don't make me food", he breathed, when the cramp let up. Rubbing the older's back comfortingly, Changkyung wracked his brain to come up with another way to help his friend. "How about a hot water bottle?", he hummed after a few minutes of thinking, "Might help your muscles relax and ease the cramps a little." – "Please", Jooheon nodded, gripping his pillow tighter. Squeezing his hyung's shoulder, Changkyun got up and promised: "Be back in a minute. Hang in there." The older nodded again, although this time, his dongsaeng couldn't see it as he was already out of the room.

As he waited for Changkyun to return, Jooheon couldn't help but notice the way the pain in his abdomen slowly morphed into something else. His stomach churned, letting out a sickly gurgle. Propping himself up on his elbow, Jooheon brought his fist up to his lips and muffled a queasy belch. He hoped it was just some gas wanting out but by the way his mouth watered, he could tell he wouldn't be that lucky. Unsure of what was going to happen, he stayed propped up, which was how Changkyun found him a few minutes later. "You okay?", The rapper asked worriedly, placing the hot water bottle aside to take in the other's sickly appearance, noting, "You could blend in with the wall perfectly with how white you look right now." – "I-I don't know", the older muttered, "It just hurt at first but now, I feel nauseous out of nowhere." Gently pulling the pillow out of his hyung's grasp, the maknae hummed: "Let's camp out in the bathroom for a while." Jooheon nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He needed a moment for his head to stop spinning and for his stomach to settle a bit, as he feared he'd get sick all over the floor the moment he stood up.

Changkyung stayed close by and wrapped an arm around Jooheon's waist, supporting him as he stumbled to the bathroom, one arm cradling his upset stomach. The older already felt bile rising up his throat and swallowed back a gag, clenching his teeth, afraid something would come up before they made it to the bathroom. His shaky legs giving out the moment he reached his destination. Jooheon squeezed his eyes shut praying for his stomach to settle while the younger flipped up the toilet seat. Knowing how much his friend hated throwing up, Changkyun crouched behind him and rubbed his back. He could feel the heat radiating through his shirt. Remembering that he had wanted to check for a fever earlier but had gotten distracted when the other woke up, the maknae pressed the backs of his fingers against his hyung's neck. Jooheon shuddered at the cold touch. "You're burning", the younger cooed sympathetically, getting back up to fetch a cold washcloth. Jooheon only groaned, not really surprised at the revelation. His stomach was still doing backflips and he could feel his mouth water. Swallowing convulsively, the rapper moved closer to the toilet bowl. He hated being sick with a passion and would try his hardest to keep his stomach in place. Slowly he was losing the fight though and it freaked him out. Changkyun could tell by the way his friend's hands shook. Draping the cool cloth across the older's neck, he hummed: "Deep breaths. Stressing yourself out isn't going to help."

Trying to take a deep breath, Jooheon shook his head. His air was cut off by his throat contracting with an unproductive gag, that brought tears to his eyes. Only seconds later, his stomach lurched and he choked up a wave of mainly stomach acid. Changkyun was there, rubbing his back and whispering words of encouragement. Clutching the other's hand for support, Jooheon retched again. His ears rang as he threw up last night's dinner. Catching a short break, Jooheon tore off a wad of toilet paper to first dry the tears and sweat before cleaning his lips and chin. "Do you think you're done?", Changkyun whispered, rewetting the washcloth. The older shook his head, crossing his arms over the toilet and dizzily resting his head on them. Gently combing his hair back, the maknae sighed: "You already felt sick last night, didn't you? I remember you barely ate anything for dinner." – "Jus' wasn't hungry", Jooheon denied, cringing at the vile smell. "Alright, sit back against the tub for a moment, yeah?", the younger frowned, reaching to flush the toilet for the older, "Are you sure you're not done? You barely ate dinner and skipped breakfast entirely. How could there possibly be anything for you to throw up?" – "T-There is", Jooheon insisted, leaning over the toilet again.

They sat there for another twenty minutes but nothing happened aside from the rapper's stomach turning painfully. Still running his hand up and down the older's back, Changkyun offered: "Do you want me to call any of the hyungs for you?" Jooheon shook his head. They should enjoy their day off. "I could get you some water. Maybe if you drink something, you could throw up and get it over with", the younger tried, hoping to find a way to help his friend feel at least a little better. Unsurprisingly, Jooheon shook his head again. He hated throwing up, so there was no way he'd make himself sick even if he would feel better afterwards. After another ten minutes, Changkyun was able to convince him to move to the living room couch. While the older curled up there, drawing his legs up to his chest and hugging his sore middle, the maknae fetched a bucket and placed it next to the couch just in case. Then he collected the hot water bottle he had abandoned on his friend's bed and went to refill it, so it'd be nice and warm again. "You still want this", he asked quietly, crouching next to the couch and showing his hyung the hot water bottle. The older nodded, uncurling just enough to hug the newfound heat source to his middle. It was only now that he noticed just how cold he felt. Changkyun picked up on the little shivers and frowned. Jooheon's fever must have gone up if he was having chills like that.

Retrieving a fluffy blanket from his room, the maknae also fetched an ice pack before returning to the living room. He spread the blanket over his hyung's tightly curled up form and warned: "I'll put something cold on your forehead. Your head must be hurting from the high temperature you're sporting." Jooheon mumbled something incoherent and flinched a bit when the younger pressed the icepack to his forehead. Heart aching in sympathy, Changkyun stroked the other's arm till he had gotten used to the cold sensation on his face and was able to relax a bit. "Do you want me to turn on the TV to distract you a bit?", the maknae asked, reaching for the remote. He couldn't just let his friend wither in pain. Though he didn't get a reply, he turned on a random drama that was playing, making sure the volume was just loud enough to understand. After a few minutes, Jooheon opened his eyes and glanced at the TV too. If he couldn't sleep anyway, a distraction didn't sound too bad. In the beginning, the background noise and distraction were really welcome but after sometime, all the colors seemed to blur together, making the rapper's head pound. He closed his eyes, hoping to follow along with the plot despite not being able to see it. It didn't work and not being occupied anymore, he started paying more attention to how his body felt. Jooheon could feel every slight turn of his stomach and took a deep breath, reminding himself that the bucket was right there and nothing bad could happen to him. He'd be fine.

Ten minutes later, Changkyun noticed how his friend's skin shade looked faded and washed out. Just as he wanted to ask if everything was alright, the older propped himself on his elbow and leaned over the edge of the couch. Pulling the bucket closer, Jooheon drew in a shaky breath. Tears already pricked at his eyes. They finally had a day off and he had to spend it miserable like this. "Ssh, you're okay", Changkyun promised, moving closer to rub the other's back. The older choked out a sob before ducking his head into the bucket with a forceful retch. Changkyun patted his back as he coughed up a wave of sick. Considering it was mostly stomach acid and bile, Jooheon's throat burned making it incredibly painful to take in a breath. Before he could really recover from the first wave, his stomach lurched again and the younger cringed at the wet splattering noise. Changkyun could feel his own stomach clench and looked away but his hand never stopped drawing soothing circles onto his hyung's back.

Exhausted, Jooheon flopped onto his back, his arm draped over his face as he tried to recover from the exertion. "I'll get you some water. You don't have to drink immediately but maybe rinse your mouth", Changkyun hummed, placing the icepack back onto his friend's forehead before getting up and making his way to the kitchen. When he returned, the older seemed almost asleep but groaned quietly when the maknae rubbed his arm to get his attention. Jooheon sat up with some struggle and accepted the water his dongsaeng handed him. First, he rinsed his mouth a few times before taking a small sip and handing the glass back. Helping the older get settled again, Changkyun tucked the blanket around his hyung's shoulders and asked: "Will you be alright for a moment, so I can clean this out?" Jooheon nodded with his eyes closed. He felt like the couch was moving underneath him and just wanted for it to stay still so he could go to sleep. With the dizziness taking up most of his attention, he barely noticed when Changkyun returned and placed the now clean bucket back on the floor. The maknae could tell Jooheon wasn't asleep, his face didn't look relaxed enough for that. In hopes of helping the older get some rest, he played with his hair and gently scratched his scalp, successfully distracting Jooheon from most of his discomfort. He was too exhausted to stay awake much longer anyway. Changkyun smiled a bit when his hyung's face relaxed and he huffed a soft breath in his sleep. Sleep well, honey.

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

MVP of Team Dumbass

Pairing: sick Hinata, caretaker Kageyama

Word Count: 3,613

Warnings: vomit, swearing

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I don’t get a lot of KageHina requests and I wanted to write one, so here’s one that I finished that’s been sitting in my drafts for a while!

As per my MO, I did not proofread this.

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Tobio and Shoyo stood at the entrance of the rented conference space, observing the chaos that was the Black Jackals end of season dinner party and award ceremony. Tobio glanced at Shoyo for the seventh time in the last five minutes and frowned at the nervous look on his face.

“Shoyo, are you sure you’re alright?” Tobio whisper-asked for what felt like the millionth time that night. He was sure that he was pestering and probably starting to grate on his boyfriend’s last nerve, but he couldn’t help it.

Shoyo had been acting weird all day. It started when he slept 2 whole hours later than usual. Kageyma brushed it off as being extra exhausted from the busy season. Then he only picked at his breakfast before spending the rest of the afternoon cuddled into Tobio’s side on the couch, much clingier than usual. Again, he brushed it off.

They were about to walk into the venue for the Jackals’s end of season awards ceremony, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Shoyo looked ragged. Well, actually, he looked fantastic in his navy blue suit, the top buttons of his light pink button down undone. But his face was exhausted.

Tobio had tried to convince him to stay home, but Shoyo was insistent. He didn’t have a fever or any other visible symptoms of being sick, so Tobio didn’t really have any grounds to keep him from going to the dinner.

“I’m…” Shoyo hesitated, fiddling with his fingers. His eyes swept across the noisy, rowdy room, and Tobio thought maybe he would give in to… whatever was causing him to act so weird and they could go home. But Shoyo shook his head and smiled.

“I’m okay. Just tired. I’ll take it easy tonight, I promise,” Shoyo said, but his voice lacked its usual energy. Tobio didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He knew that Shoyo understood his disapproval without him voicing it.

Shoyo grabbed Tobio’s hand and squeezed. They walked into the room and joined the rest of the team and their guests. Obviously Shoyo wasn’t going to forgo this dinner, so Tobio resigned himself to keeping a sharper eye on his boyfriend than normal.

That proved to be a good decisions because throughout the dinner, it was clear that Shoyo’s physical and mental state was deteriorating.

Sure, at first Shoyo put up a good front. He laughed with Bokuto and Atsumu during the “bloopers'' video that Meian put together. He chatted casually with Sakusa about the struggles of living with a setter-type. He joined in on the usual teasing towards Tobio about how they would destroy the Adlers next time they played.

But Tobio saw his boyfriend deflate every time there was a lull in the conversation. He saw how his skin grew paler as the night went on. How he got more and more lethargic. How he shoved his food around on his plate before having the waiter take it away. How he zoned out more and more frequently during conversations.

It was once the speeches started that Tobio’s Shoyo Radar went from code 5 to code 1 in no time flat.

Shoyo wasn’t even trying to hide that he felt bad anymore. He kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat. First throwing his head back, eyes closed. Then quickly to lean his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. On two separate occasions, Atsumu and Akaashi each glanced at him from across the table, concern evident on their faces before shooting Tobio questioning looks. Tobio tried to convey to them that he had it under control.

Even though he had no idea what was wrong.

Meian was going through the awards for the season. Everything from “best play” to “messiest locker” was awarded and normally Shoyo really enjoyed hearing all the creative awards the team came up with and listening to their respective acceptance speeches. Tonight though, it was clear he had no idea what Meian was even talking about onstage. He was staring blankly at the half eaten dessert in front of him, his mouth hanging open slightly. Tobio was sure he had a fever now, if the slight sheen of sweat was any indication.

Tobio heard the Meian announce the next award, MVP, which is usually the last award, and go over their best plays of the season. He decided it was the perfect time to grab Shoyo and drag him home. They stayed long enough.

He reached over to grab his boyfriend’s hand when Shoyo suddenly perked up, his eyes wide and his mouth snapping shut. His hand shot out and death gripped Tobio’s thigh. When he looked over at the setter, he swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak, a sense of urgency behind his eyes.

“and the MVP of the season, Hinata Shoyo!” Meian announced and at hearing his name Shoyo’s head snapped towards the front. He turned to look at Tobio and smiled shakily.

“Let’s leave after this, okay?” He whispered before standing up and walking over to accept the award from their captain.

Shoyo took his place behind the podium and leaned heavily on his elbows. He took the microphone in his hand and started his acceptance speech. Under the stage lights, it was beyond evident that the team’s tiny opposite hitter was not well.

Not only did his face shine with sweat, but Shoyo had prevalent deep, dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked nearly translucent. Several eyes landed on Tobio, all silently asking what was wrong. Even Meian and Coach Foster found him from the stage. Tobio shook his head and Shoyo started talking.

How did he not notice how bad off his boyfriend was? He prided himself on being observant of those around him, especially Shoyo. Especially after years of knowing him and working with him and living with him.

“Wow, MVP…” Shoyo panted and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I never would have thought I’d win this award. Thanks guys, really,” he shook his head.

“You’re all so… so uh…” his form started folding in on itself and Tobio immediately stood up.

“I’m just gonna… sit down, i-if that’s… alright,” he breathed before sliding down and disappearing behind the podium. The crowd erupted into a flurry of quick, concerned whispers. Meian and Coach Shugo immediately rushed to his side. Tobio wanted to run up there, but held back. He didn’t want to crowd Shoyo. He would be called if he was needed. But he still stood, the rest of his table glancing up at him. He ignored them, all of his attention on the stage.

“T-tobio?” came Shoyo’s shaky voice over the speakers. Tobio immediately marched up to the stage. He rounded the podium, slightly afraid of what he was going to find.

Meian and Coach Shugo were knelt by Shoyo, trying to offer their support and figure out what was wrong. Meian held the mic in his hands and Shugo had a bottle of water. Shoyo was between them, his head between his legs. His back moved up and down heavily. Tobio immediately got down on his knees in front of his boyfriend.

“Shoyo,” he called gently, placing a hand on his back. Shoyo jumped slightly before lifting his head and looking at Tobio. Relief washed over his pained features before his eyes glossed over with tears.

“I don’t feel good,” he all but whined before hanging his head again.

“I know, baby. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He knew for sure that Shoyo had a fever now. It was painfully obvious by the heat and sweat Tobio felt with the hand that was still on the wing spiker’s back. But that didn’t tell him what was causing the fever.

“Head is pounding,” Shoyo choked before adding, “nauseous.”

At that, all of Tobio’s alarm bells went off. Shoyo was never good with nausea. Handling it, covering it up, not throwing up. If Hinata Shoyo had any weaknesses it was his own stomach.

“Okay,” Tobio said with a forced calm, “just breathe, Sho. Can you move?” This was nothing new. He could handle this.

Shoyo shook his head.

“Don’t wanna risk making a bigger mess than necessary,” he gritted. Tobio knew the signs. Could tell that his nausea was mounting by the second and they needed to do something to minimize the damage. Shoyo was going to throw up and there was no stopping it. The best thing they could do was try and minimize the damage.

“I understand,” Tobio said. He ran his hand through Shoyo’s hair.

“Would one of you mind finding a bin of some sort?” he turned to the two men still hanging behind them. Meian nodded and jogged off the stage. A minute later, he returned with a bucket. He must’ve run to the utility closet. Tobio nodded gratefully and took the bucket.

“Sho, I have a bucket. Can we walk now? We’ll go somewhere else, alright? Then we can leave whenever you’re ready,” Tobio tried to coax Shoyo into moving. It would be better for everyone if his entire team and their friends and family didn’t hear him puking just behind the podium. Tobio was surprised Bokuto wasn’t up here trying to help out, honestly. He probably had Akaashi to thank for that.

Shoyo glanced up at him through his lashes and nodded hesitantly.

With Shugo’s help, Tobio got Shoyo standing on visibly shaky legs. He wrapped one arm around Shoyo’s waist, the other holding the bucket in front of his boyfriend’s chest. Shoyo’s arm was thrown over Tobio’s shoulder and they made their way slowly off the stage.

Tobio smiled gratefully, but told Shugo he had it handled when the coach offered to help out. Meian made an announcement to the room that Shoyo was fine, but probably contracted a stomach bug.

As they were walking toward the exit, which happened to be across the room from the stage, unfortunately, Tobio heard a small sniffle from the trembling boy in his arms.

“Sho? Do we need to stop?” Shoyo shook his head.

“Just embarrassed. Knew s-something was wrong” he exhaled through puffed cheeks.

“I should’ve noticed, Sho. I’m sorry. We should’ve left before it got bad.” Tobio kissed the side of his head. Shoyo shook his head, but kept his mouth closed. Tobio figured that was for the best.

It was slow going, but their salvation was close at hand. The door to the exit was only about 15 feet in front of them. They could make it.

“Doing good, babe. We’re almost out and then you can relax and let whatever needs to happen happen,” Tobio soothed and rubbed up and down Shoyo’s side. His boyfriend nodded tersely, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth in a tight line. Sweat dripped down the side of his face and his breaths were slow and controlled.

Within three seconds of his nod though, Shoyo shook his head and halted them. The back of his hand pressed firmly against his mouth.

“Oh, Shoyo, we’re so close to the door,” Tobio winced and glanced at the exit a mere 10 feet before then. He looked around the room for the first time and saw the uneasy looks from everyone. It was clear they were trying not to look, but it was hard not to. Kageyama understood that. Tobio looked uneasily at Shoyo again. His skin was taking on a green shirt tint and his shoulders were visibly trembling.

Tobio took in all the eyes on them, Shoyo’s current state, and the distance to the door and made a decision for both of them.

“Let’s go, baby. It’s so close,” he encouraged and pushed Shoyo forward quickly. He whimpered and Tobio shushed him gently.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Shoyo lurched forward with a silent heave, bracing himself against his knees. It was quickly followed by a whimper and Tobio’s chest squeezed in sympathy.

“Okay, it’s fine. Just let it happen. We’re alone now. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He moved his hand from Shoyo’s side to his back, rubbing up and down the way he liked.

Shoyo burped wetly and panted over the bin. He squeezed his eyes shut and a quiet heave rocked his body forward. Tobio put a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady, the other still rhythmically rubbing his boyfriend’s back. The warmth he found there was concerning, but he put it aside for the time being and focused on the problem at hand.

“Shoyo, relax,” Tobio tried. Shoyo’s shoulders were hunched up by his ears and his back muscles were taught under Tobio’s hand.

“Deep breath in,” he instructed. Shoyo inhaled slowly and the tension released from his body. It seemed to do the trick because with one quick, sharp, wretch Shoyo’s jaw dropped and a small stream of vomit splashed into the bin. He coughed and sputtered, trying to catch his breath when another pitiful amount of puke spilled through his parted lips.

“Good job, Sho. Just get it up.” Tobio brushed back his hair.

“Hur-hurts,” Shoyo choked behind a gag. Tobio winced in sympathy. He was mentally beating himself up for not realizing how sick his boyfriend was sooner. He never would have relented and let Shoyo come if he knew. Now, here they were, less than fifty feet away from Shoyo’s entire team and their partners and families, with Shoyo painfully spewing his guts up and a raging fever.

“I know,” Tobio exhaled. Shoyo gagged up another small amount of puke and gasped.

“Please, please,” he rasped, “make it sto-stop.”

“I wish I could, Shoyo. You just have to ride it out.” Tobio frowned. Shoyo whimpered.

It didn’t look like he was anywhere near done, but his body wasn’t letting him breathe. It was only allowing small, pathetic streams of bile up and it was clearly causing Shoyo a lot of pain if his scrunched face and occasional whimpers were anything to go off of. There had to be something that could help move things along.

Tobio moved his hand to Shoyo’s lower back and moved his hands in quick circles. It shook Shoyo’s entire shaking form and he let another whimper escape.

“Sto-stop. Tobio, plea—,” he gagged. Tears were now dropping into the bucket beneath him. He squatted and put his head in his hands. Tobio followed and placed the bucket on the ground. With his now free hand, he braced an arm against Shoyo’s chest, the other continuing its quick circles on his back.

Shoyo started letting out small, harsh, airy burps in quick succession. A minute later, he hiccuped and his whole body lurched forward with the torrent of vomit that poured from his mouth. He coughed and sobbed before another heave forced another flood vomit up and out of his mouth.

“I’ve got you, Sho. It’s okay,” Tobio soothed.

Wave after wave tormented Shoyo and he grew more desperate when he couldn’t catch his breath. Tobio could see Shoyo losing his grounding and knew he needed to do something before this turned into a full-fledged panic attack.

“Shoyo, hey. You have to try to relax. You’re making things worse for yourself, baby,” Tobio said. Shoyo just shook his head and heaved up more vomit.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Sho. I’ve got you, alright? You’re okay. Everything is okay. Breathe,” he commanded. Shoyo desperately gasped, but managed to shakily exhale slowly.

“That’s it. You’re okay,” Tobio reassured again. Shoyo gagged, but nothing more came up. He took in a trembling breath through his nose and exhaled slowly. He coughed and spit into the bin.

Tobio retrieved his phone from his back pocket and shot a quick text to Akaashi, while breathing with Shoyo slowly.

A minute later, Shoyo collapsed onto his ass and cradled his head in his hands. Tobio kissed the side of his head and rubbed between his shoulder blades.

“You done?” he asked. Shoyo nodded. Tobio clicked his tongue and pulled Shoyo into his side. They were sitting just outside the door. Tobio wanted to move them, but he needed to give Shoyo a second to collect himself.

The door opened a second later and Akaashi came out with water and a wet cloth.

“Is he alright?” he directed at Tobio.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I think it’s a stomach bug.” He took the things from Akaashi with a grateful smile and placed the cloth on Shoyo’s forehead. His boyfriend sighed and his shoulders fell back down.

“Do you need anything else? Kotaro is just about ready to chop off his spiking arm if it means he can come help out,” Akaashi chuckled lightheartedly. Tobio laughed, but shook his head.

“No, I think we’re alright. When he’s ready, we’ll move to the front of the building and I’ll call a taxi.”

“Nonsense. Kotaro and I will drive you home—no I won’t take no for an answer. Neither will Kotaro,” Akaashi said, cutting off Tobio before he could protest.

“Besides, the dinner is wrapping up anyway and the team is concerned. They’ll feel better knowing one of us got you home safely.”

“Okay,” Tobio relented, “thank you.” Akaashi smiled and went to go get his boyfriend.

Tobio surveyed his own boyfriend with a scowl. Shoyo’s breathing returned to normal, but he was still very pale and sweaty.

“Sho, look at me, please.”

Shoyo whined, but turned his head to face Tobio, resting it on his knees. He looked even more exhausted if possible. His fever was evident now too, given away by the subtle flush of his cheeks. Tobio sucked his teeth and pursed his lips.

“Look at you. MVP? Yeah. MVP of Team Dumbass, maybe,” he said without any bite. He took the cloth and ran it over Shoyo’s face again.

“I rightfully earned both awards, I think,” Shoyo weakly chuckled.

“Yeah, I suppose you did. I probably would’ve won biggest idiot, seeing as I signed up for your idiocy willingly,” Tobio lamented dramatically. Shoyo frowned. He rinsed out his mouth with the water Akaashi brought before replying.

“Rude, Tobio.”

Tobio smirked and stood up. He pulled a piece of gum from his coat pocket (something he always had on hand for Shoyo who’s taken up a nasty habit of constant gum chewing) and handed it to his boyfriend. Then he reached a hand down to Shoyo who took it hesitantly. As soon as he was standing, his knees buckled and Tobio caught him under his arms.

“Tch, can’t even stand properly,” he sighed. He maneuvered Shoyo onto his back.

“Don’t puke on me. I love you, but not that much.”

“Mean, Tobio,” Shoyo yawned. He nuzzled his warm face into Tobio’s neck. First thing when they get home is to get that fever down.

Within the next five minutes, Akaashi and Bokuto met them at the front. Akaashi reassured Tobio that he told everyone Shoyo was alright and would bounce back from this quickly. Bokuto manipulated a surgical mask onto Shoyo’s face. Tobio hadn’t realized he fell asleep.

They piled into Bokuto’s car and Tobio immediately pulled Shoyo into his side. Akaashi handed him a plastic bag just in case.

They didn’t end up needing it, thankfully and when they got home Tobio begrudgingly woke Shoyo up. Unfortunately he could not carry Shoyo, now dense with muscle from years of volleyball, up four flights of stairs to their apartment like he used to. He knew his limits. He thanked Akaashi and dragged Shoyo up the stairs.

Shoyo made a beeline for the bedroom when they got inside. Tobio followed after getting a bowl from the kitchen, some fever reducers and stomach meds, a sports drink, and some crackers.

Upon entering the bedroom, he found Shoyo sitting up with half his shirt off.

“Help?” he asked pitifully and Tobio huffed out a laugh before walking over and helping him out of his suit. He replaced it with some athletic shorts and one of his own sweatshirts and Shoyo collapsed onto the bed. He curled into a ball and sighed.

“‘M sorry,” he said around a yawn. Tobio peered over his shoulder at him from where he was changing into his own pajamas.

“For being an idiot?”

Shoyo smiled, “yeah. I should’ve listened to you.”

“Yeah, you should have. But it’s not like that’s anything new,” he said lightly and moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Yeah. That’s true. Still,” Shoyo said. Tobio finished up in the bathroom and crawled into bed beside Shoyo. His boyfriend promptly moved to curl around Tobio, but was stopped before he could achieve maximum comfort levels.

“Ah ah ah, hold up. Take these meds and drink something first.”

Shoyo frowned at him with wide eyes, his chin resting on Tobio’s chest.

“Do I have to?”

“Absolutely. Yes,” Tobio said without missing a beat. He shoved a thermometer in Shoyo’s mouth before he could complain.

Shoyo breathed a long-suffering sigh and pouted, but sat up nonetheless. After the thermometer beeped, Tobio took it to read the temperature and frowned again. Good thing they still had fever reducers.

Shoyo took the meds and the drink and choked them down with a grimace.

“If it comes back up, it’s on you. Literally and figuratively,” Shoyo mumbled.

“I brought a bowl from the kitchen. If you puke on me I’m going to leave you.”

“No you won’t,” Shoyo said sleepily. He settled himself into Tobio’s side and shivered. Tobio pulled their blanket up over his shoulders and rubbed his arms.

“No. I won’t,” he sighed. He kissed the top of Shoyo’s head and mentally prepared himself for the next few days of taking care of his tiny stubborn boyfriend.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 31

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: At Waystation, pt 4/?

A/N: Soo sorry about the long wait! This was a very long and kind of tricky chapter to write so it took me longer than I would have wanted. But in a way this is (ironically) a good day to post this chapter as it's the Mother's day in many parts of the world today. (Happy Mother’s day Esperanza Valdez ;___;)

Before we head into this chapter, I want to give you guys a warning that it (specifically, the flashback in the beginning of the chapter) talks about what happened to Leo's mother, so in case you find that too hard to read, feel free to skip it. (If you have read HoO, I think you can somewhat guess what to expect)

Thanks for all the amazing support you guys have given me so far! ♥ It's what keeps me going! Now, enjoy, and remember that I'd really like to hear what you think because there's a lot going on in this chapter!

Words: 5550 (yeah, long one)

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: minor character death (talked about), be aware!

previous chapter / AO3

*flashback*

There was fire. So much fire.

Leo had been tinkering with his toy tools and drawing some simple blueprints in the living room when he had remembered that he had left his hammer into his room. He went to look for it and it took him a couple of minutes to locate it from under the unfinished toys and papers he had thrown around. Unfortunately, that couple of minutes had been enough for all hell to break loose in the living room.

He started smelling smoke and ran back downstairs to see where it came from. The wooden floor and several pieces of furniture in the living room were on fire, which seemed to have started from the papers he had left near the fireplace. Leo’s mind went completely blank like a machine that had just been shut down. The only thing that he was capable of thinking was: what do I do?

His mother had put a fire in the fireplace before she had left to run some errands because it had been a cold day. She had warned Leo several times to be careful with it, even putting a bucket of water and a smothering blanket nearby in case of emergency. But it was already too late to use them; the fire had already spread too far in the room. Because of his state of panic, it took Leo a while to manage to make decisions, but finally, his brain told him: get your phone so you can call mom, and run.

What his 8-year-old brain didn’t understand: he should have just left the building right then and asked a neighbor or someone to call the fire department instead. But Leo could only think how the very thing his mother had been worried about just happened and how she’d probably never forgive him for – no matter how accidentally – burning their home. He had vague memories of leaving his cell phone that he had gotten a few months earlier on his birthday into his room, so he ran upstairs as quickly as he could with his short, wobbly legs. However, the phone wasn’t on his desk like he had anticipated, and it took him a while to remember he had thrown it under the bed after getting frustrated with his homework; the words on the textbook they were supposed to read had not made any sense to him.

Once he finally found the cell phone and went back downstairs to leave the building, the fire had already spread so much that he could barely see anything from the smoke. Coughing, he tried to cover his mouth with his shirt so he could protect himself from the smoke and dash to the door, but he soon realized it was not possible. His road was blocked, and the only way for him to get out would be through the upstairs windows.

Leo didn’t have the time to figure out how to open the windows so he ended up breaking his bedroom window with a real hammer that he happened to find nearby. Shaking, breathing heavily and trying to avoid the glass shards, he looked down. The fall would be quite big, at least 5-6 meters, but he was no stranger to broken bones. The fights with other school kids had taught him a thing or two about that. He would still be more likely to survive the fall than trying to go out from downstairs; at least there were no stones or other hard objects under the window. He was so full of adrenaline that he didn’t even notice that his hands were bleeding; they had hit the broken glass when he had peeked out.

Finally, he managed to gain enough courage to climb up the windowsill and lift one of his legs over the edge. In the process he scraped himself some more in the glass and tore his pants a bit as well, but who cared? It was a very minor thing compared to his mother’s face if she’d find him dead in the house. For a moment Leo thought about all the blueprints and devices in development in the basement of the house, how hours and hours of his mother’s work would go to waste if the entire house burned down – but that was a thing to worry about for later. It was already too late to do anything but to try to escape.

With a huge lump in his throat as he imagined how his mother would hate him when she’d find out about the fire, Leo finally lifted his other leg over the edge as well, sitting on the windowsill with his legs hanging in the air. The distance between him and the ground seemed even bigger than it had earlier, but he had to do this. Slowly, he inched himself forward, hesitating a bit more, but the sound of the fire breaking something downstairs startled him and finally, he dropped down.

After that his memories started getting hazy. He fainted when hitting the ground and when he first woke up he noticed the pain in his left ankle and some blood coming from his forehead. He was laying on the grass, not unharmed but at least alive, and suddenly he got aware that he had to get farther from the house because the fire could easily spread to the surrounding grounds. He could only hope that a neighbor or a passerby had already called the fire department because he himself would not be able to do that, not with his dizzy head and the pain everywhere in his body. Before he passed out again, his last thought was: when would his mother be back?

The next time he was conscious, he remembered trying to drag himself forward with his hands. He could not stand up, and not even crawl, so that was the only thing he could do. Inch by inch, he got a bit farther from his falling spot, and by that time he also started hearing some distant sirens and human yells somewhere, but his mind could not comprehend what all of it meant.

After that, the next thing he remembered was being lifted from the ground by a first responder. The man tried to tell him soothing words, probably something like ‘poor child, it will be alright’, but Leo didn’t care. He wished the fogginess of his brain would just fade so he could speak and walk on his own feet and find out what happened to his mother – if she returned yet – but afterwards, he wished he would have never found out.

He kept slipping in and out of consciousness for a while, not really sure what was happening around him, until finally he woke up in the hospital. One of his legs and arms had been plastered and a bandage had been wrapped around his head. Already he wished he could have just ripped them off and run away but he knew that wasn’t possible. A couple of minutes later, a nurse finally arrived at his bedside.

“Oh, good, I’m glad you’re awake,” she said, testing his forehead to see if he had a fever. “You scared us there, young one.”

“It’s not me you should be worried about! Where’s my mom?! Hasn’t anyone told her I am here?” Leo demanded in a hoarse voice.

The nurse ignored his question. “Now, what is your name?”

“Leo Valdez,” he answered grumpily, glaring at the nurse.

“Good. How old are you?” the woman asked then.

“8 years. But how does that have anything to do with anything? I want my mom here!”

“Calm down, Mr. Valdez. We are just doing some routine tests. You hit your head pretty badly. Now, do you remember your home address?”

Leo, despite still feeling quite dizzy, got really angry about the question. “Yes, I do, but it doesn’t matter! There’s probably nothing left of it anymore! Because it burned down!” The tears finally demanded to get out of his system as he added with a tiny voice: “And I don’t know where my mom is.”

The nurse looked very hesitant for a moment. “I, um… You know, I think we are gonna complete this test a bit later. There are some people who have been wanting to see you.” She looked towards the door restlessly.

“Is it mom?” Leo asked instantly.

The nurse just shook her head. “You’ll see soon.”

She let the visitors in and left the room, closing the door behind her. Leo found himself staring at a firefighter, who he vaguely recognized as the same one who had carried him to safety after his fall. With him entered a police officer whom Leo had not seen before. Why would a police officer want to meet him, he wondered. Maybe they’d sentence him to prison for burning the house down?

“It was an accident!” Leo blurted before the men had time to say anything, trying to look brave even though he had just cried.

“We know, we know,” the firefighter tried to calm him down. “That’s not why we are here. We wanted to see how you were doing, and, um…” he looked helplessly at his companion.

“We have some bad news,” the police officer went straight to the topic.

“Is it about the house?” Leo asked.

“No, it’s about your mother… she’s gone.”

It took Leo a moment to register what the police officer had said.

“What?” he yelled.

“I’m sorry, but she is dead.”

Leo couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was already so panicked that denial was his only coping mechanism left. “Again, what?”

“It is true, young man,” the police officer stated matter-of-factly.

“But she can’t be! She wasn’t even home…!” Leo squeaked, trying to make sense of the situation in his blurry, shocked mind.

The firefighter spoke this time. “I’m so sorry, son… but he’s not lying. We found her in your house. The neighbor who called us had seen her go in before we arrived, and… when we got there… it was already too late.”

“But… but…” Leo had a very hard time getting any words out at that moment. “Why… why would she go in…? And… why didn’t anyone stop her?”

Again the visitors hesitated before answering. “This is just what we heard from a couple of witnesses, but… it seems like she had gone in to… look for you…”

Leo wished the sweet unconsciousness had returned to him in that moment, but that didn’t happen. Instead, it felt like something tried to pull his heart out of his chest. His mind was going through about a hundred different things at the same time: grief, anger, denial… and perhaps above everything else, guilt. It was his fault. It was his fault that the house had burned, and it was his fault that his mother had gone into the burning house. If he had been there to warn her… if she had known… But no, he had had to jump from upstairs to the backyard from where he had been harder to find. And then he had, only half conscious, dragged himself to a nearby trench where the humidity had protected him, being even harder to spot unless you happened to walk right next to it.

That meant that his mother had gone into the house thinking he was there… and she had died thinking he had died. All because he hadn’t listened to her, because he had left some papers on which he had been drawing too near the fireplace.

‘My fault. All my fault’, was all Leo could hear in his head on repeat. He noticed that the firefighter was trying to say something, but he could not register what. Leo didn’t ask him to repeat what he had said. Instead, he stuttered with a weak voice:

“You didn’t answer my other question. Why… didn’t anyone… stop her?”

The police officer sighed sadly. “From what we know, your neighbors had tried to tell her to not go in, that there was nothing she could do, but she refused to listen. The… smoke had already suffocated her by the time we arrived.”

Leo clenched his small fists, unable to focus his gaze anywhere. Everything around him was just a meaningless blur. All of a sudden, nothing mattered to him anymore. With his mother, Leo hadn’t just lost the most important person in his life, the only person who had ever really cared about him and understood him. He had lost his home, his safety, everything that he had loved. More to himself than to the men in the room, he sobbed:

“What's going to happen to me?”

And then everything went blank.

*end flashback*

…

When Leo woke up, he noticed he was breathing very sharply. He had to tell himself to slow it down a bit, trying to focus on the breathing instead of the dream he had just seen. Once he had calmed down a bit, he realized his face was soaked from the tears. The good feeling from the day before was gone, and suddenly he remembered all too well why he hated that holiday so much. His mother had died on Christmas day, 11 years ago.

The worst part about the nightmare he had just seen? It had actually happened. Sure, the details might have changed in Leo’s mind a bit because he had been so young when his mother had died, but most of it was true. The fire, the jumping, the people in the hospital, all true. When he had still been a kid, he had dared to hope that maybe someday the memories would start fading and it wouldn’t hurt so much. But now, 11 years later, he knew better. Thanks to the therapy and Jo, Emmie and the friends’ help, he did have moments when he managed to feel happy, focus on the future and forget the pain for a time being, but when it came back, it was always as intense. And it was especially bad on Christmas days, the anniversary of those horrific events.

‘Pull yourself together’, Leo told himself. ‘This is not what your mother would have wanted for you.’

‘No’, another, the evil voice in his head said. ‘But then again, if it weren’t for you, she would still be here.’

He groaned at himself and decided that it would be better to get himself up and moving rather than lay there listening to the voices. Sitting up, he combed his fingers through his messy hair in an attempt to tame it, with little success. After that, he wiped the tears from his face, trying to pretend it had never happened. Registering the voices coming from the living room, he figured some of his family members were already awake even though it was still rather early. They, especially Georgina, were lucky that they didn’t know what was going through in his head that day; it would have ruined everyone’s Christmas.

Trying to pull himself together and put on a happy face, he got up and washed his face in the bathroom quickly before joining the family. The moment he reached the bottom of the stairs, Georgina ran to him and hugged him.

“Merry Christmas, hermano!”

Leo patted her hair absentmindedly, thinking that Georgina was now only a year older than he had been when… no, he had to stop thinking about it. If not for anyone else’s sake, then Georgina’s. She deserved to have a happy day.

“Merry Christmas to you too, hermanita. Well, did Santa visit? Did he receive my memo on your behavior towards me this year?”

Georgina pulled away from him and folded his arms. “I’m not a little baby anymore; I know Santa doesn’t actually exist. But we did get presents! Even you, although I was kind of surprised about that.”

Leo clutched his shirt. “Ouch, Georgie! I thought you were on my side!”

The siblings continued bickering playfully as they waited for the others. They had a tradition in their house that everyone needed to be there for the present opening. Soon Josephine appeared with a tray full of coffee cups, gingerbread cookies and certain small pies she used to bake every Christmas.

“Where are the others?” Georgina asked impatiently as she started stuffing the cookies into her mouth and drummed her legs against the sofa. “I want to open the presents already!”

“Calm down, Georgie,” Jo scolded her. “Emmie is checking the cats and dogs because they also need care on Christmas day, and Calypso may still be sleeping.”

“Ugh, I told her I wanna start opening the presents early!” Georgina protested. “I’ll go wake her up if she isn’t here in 10 minutes!”

“You’ll wake who up?” Calypso showed up from the stairway. Hearing her voice and seeing her face, Leo forgot for a moment why he had been so upset earlier. Somehow her presence just had that weird effect on him. She was wearing a green holiday sweater knitted by Annabeth over her pajamas – pink with some small flower prints – and her hair was flying freely, slightly wavy because of the braids that Georgie had insisted on making the previous evening. Somehow even that casual look made her look adorable in his eyes and his throat felt dry for entirely different reasons than a few minutes earlier. Leo almost missed Calypso’s next words due to his distraction. “Sorry that you had to wait, Georgina. I was finishing up one last present because I wasn’t entirely happy with it.”

“No worries!” Georgina exclaimed. Apparently the last minute gift preparing was a good enough reason to be late in her books, because Leo knew that if he had been late for the gift opening, the little girl wouldn’t have forgiven that easily.

Calypso put her pile of neatly packed presents under the tree to wait and turned to the others.

“So, merry Christmas, everyone! If I am allowed to be honest with you, I don’t really know a lot about Christmas traditions… My family never celebrated it… But I want to learn!”

“We’ll teach you,” Georgina told her immediately. “It’s gonna be so much fun, you’ll see!”

Leo wished he himself could have been as enthusiastic about the holiday as Georgina was, but tried to keep the happy face on anyway.

“Cal, try some of those pies before Georgie has eaten them all.” He pointed to the tray Jo had brought. Calypso glanced at him suspiciously for a moment. “Don’t give me that look; I swear I didn’t make them. It’s all Jo and Emmie.”

“Fine,” Calypso agreed and took a bite. “This is really good!” she exclaimed once her mouth was empty.

“Told you. Now do you trust me?” Leo asked her teasingly.

“Hmmm. That’s still to be determined,” Calypso replied, but Leo could see her smile into her piece of pie.

As everyone waited for Emmie to return inside, they kept up a light banter as they ate their Christmas breakfast in the living room. Even Leo did his best to participate in it, and soon he did feel a bit better, although if someone had looked at him more closely, they would have noticed the smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes.

Finally, Emmie arrived together with Festus and Georgina instantly pulled her towards the Christmas tree so they could start the gift sharing. A grin spread across Leo’s face as well when he watched the little girl run back and forth as she delivered the packages to their rightful owners. This was now, he tried to remind himself. What happened in the past… was in the past and his mother would probably have wanted him to enjoy these moments.

Not that he’d ever know that for sure, the nasty voice in Leo’s head said again, and the grin almost disappeared from his face.

To no one’s surprise, Georgina got the most presents because even some family friends and neighbors had sent her something (that’s what happened when she got everyone wrapped around her finger, Leo thought), but everyone else got their fair share of self made gifts as well. Leo noticed that Calypso had three packages; one from him, one from Georgina who had insisted on making her own present, and one from Jo and Emmie. He found himself wishing she’d like what he had made; he had spent quite a lot of time on it.

Before anyone could start ripping their wrapping papers off the presents, Festus was given some treats so he wouldn’t interrupt the gift opening too much. Georgina got the privilege of getting to open hers first. She chuckled at Leo’s jokes in the photo album, which Leo took as a success, and squealed excitedly at the tiny dragon toy he had carved from wood and painted. Calypso had sewed her a detailed gryphon plushie, because Leo had told her that Georgina had recently gotten interested in the mythical creatures, a topic Calypso knew a lot about. The little girl hugged the plushie enthusiastically while Calypso promised her to tell her more about the Greek mythology later when they’d have more time. Emmie gave Georgie a tiny beginning of a plant that she’d get to raise on her own, and Jo, the practical person that she was, gave her a pocket knife for tinkering with a warning that she’d only get to use it under her supervision.

Leo and Calypso allowed Jo and Emmie to open their presents next. It was mostly practical stuff, like woolly socks, self made chocolate, and new tools (which broke the ‘homemade’ rule but Leo knew Jo needed them), but Leo had also tinkered frames for a photo of the Waystation family and asked Calypso to decorate it with her paints. The final result looked pretty good in his opinion.

Next was Calypso’s turn. Georgina had attempted to crochet a potholder for her because Leo had guiltily admitted that he may have accidentally ruined one of Calypso’s potholders while cooking something. However, since she was still a beginner in the handicrafts, the potholder had some room for improvement, but Leo could see from Calypso’s happy face that she appreciated the gesture. Leo had also told his mothers that Calypso really loved her flowers, so they gave her a white orchid in a pot that Jo had once crafted. Finally, she opened the gift Leo had made for her. He was biting his lip and tapping his fingers nervously even though he tried to act nonchalant as he watched Calypso’s reaction. Before she removed the paper, she knocked on the surface of the gift, trying to guess what was in it.

“Is this a tool box? So you could borrow mine when you lose yours?” She teased.

“Well, at least that would be useful, don’t you think? But hold your horses; it’s probably not what you think it is,” Leo hinted. Calypso gave him a quizzical look and Leo took that as a sign that she really had no idea what the gift was.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” she noted and started carefully removing the paper. Unlike Georgina, she made sure that the paper would still be usable on some later occasion. Calypso wasn’t entirely wrong with her guess; the gift was indeed a box of sorts. But it wasn’t for tools. Instead, it was a jewelry box; wooden, self made, painted rose pink, which happened to be Calypso’s favorite color. When she opened it, she noticed a small mirror on the lid with some text on it. The box also played one of those few songs that they both happened to like. Calypso traced her finger on the smooth surface of the box for a moment before she noticed that there was still something more in the box: a silvery bracelet with a letter C hanging from it. She took it into her hands and admired it for a moment before reading aloud the text that had been written on the mirror:

“You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep rereading the last one.”

“Um, yeah…” Leo was unsure how he should respond. Suddenly he got worried he had been too straightforward with that message, and Calypso wouldn’t appreciate it. “It was a quote, um, that I happened to stumble upon somewhere recently… But I thought it was quite fitting?”

Calypso looked at him straight into the eyes and for a moment Leo managed to forget that there were others in the room. It was as if she was trying to message him wordlessly that she understood the meaning of the quote.

“Yes, I think it works,” she replied slowly. “For both of us.”

Leo felt his ears getting heated and attempted to comb his hair over them with his fingers to not make it so painfully obvious. Given what day it was, he understood that it was ironic he was using that quote when he himself was struggling to let go from his past.

“True,” he had to admit, looking at the others nervously from the corner of his eye. “It’s… it’s something that we both should try to remember. Something we have in common, right?”

Calypso seemed to accept his explanation. “Right. Um, this box is really beautiful. You’ve seen a lot of trouble with it. The music and all… It’s really nice. Did you even make this bracelet?”

Even though Leo should have prepared himself for that question, he felt embarrassed to reveal the bracelet’s origins, afraid it might sound too sentimental. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat to get more time to consider his answer.

“The… the chain was from an old bracelet my mom had… My biological mom, I mean. I didn’t get to keep a lot of her belongings but this had survived… and my dear aunt didn’t want to keep it so I’ve been carrying it around as a charm of some sort. But the thing is, I don’t really need it so it was Jo’s suggestion that I could give it to someone who’d use it. She helped me make this,” he showed the C, “because I don’t really…”

“Want to forge anything,” Calypso finished for him. “Yeah. I understand.”

“Good. If you don’t like it, you can give it to someone else; I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind…”

Calypso gave him an encouraging smile. “Oh, no! This bracelet meant a lot to you so it means a lot to me. It’s a really nice gesture, Leo.”

“You’re welcome?” he replied, kind of flustered by her reaction.

Calypso fiddled with the gift for a moment before turning her attention back to Leo.

“Would you like to put this on my wrist? I’d like to see how it fits.”

“Oh… alright!” Leo agreed, wishing he could say something that didn’t make him sound like a complete idiot. But then again, he reminded himself, wasn’t that what most people thought of him? And since when had he cared?

Calypso handed the bracelet to him and Leo took a very light hold of her wrist, as if afraid that he’d burn her skin with his hot fingers. He was so focused on his task that he even forgot that it was technically against the ‘rules’ they had set, but Calypso had initiated it so who was he to deny her request? He put the chain around her wrist with fumbling fingers and closed the lock. After that he allowed his hand to stay around hers a moment longer. He swiped the surface of the chain with his finger, also touching the back of her hand by accident (or maybe on purpose). Calypso looked up from their hands to him with a surprisingly soft expression that he hadn’t seen since that day when they had promised each other to try harder to be ‘just friends’. His brain sent sparks through his spine and he felt very warm all of a sudden.

“I… um… it seems to fit, doesn’t it?” he finally stuttered, looking down at the bracelet, Calypso’s gaze still lingering in his mind. He let her wrist go and already his hand felt much colder, as if it was missing something.

“Oh, yeah,” Calypso nodded, absentmindedly fiddling with the chain of the bracelet. “It’s small enough that it won’t fall but it’s not too small.”

“Good,” Leo said, a smile returning to his face. “Guess you’re just as tiny as my mom was.” He finally managed to bring out his more playful side.

“Have you looked into the mirror lately, Mister Super-Sized McShizzle? You’re not exactly a giant yourself,” Calypso teased back.

Georgina giggled at her response. “You tell him, Calie!”

“This Georgina here, though,” Leo grinned at her, “she must really have some giant blood in her. She uses my overalls in the garage sometimes!”

“I do not,” Georgina denied quickly. “They’re stinky.”

“Yeah? And you smell like flowers and rainbows,” Leo retorted and started tickling the little girl.

For a moment Leo was able to forget that he hated Christmas as he played with Georgina, but then someone reminded him that he still had to open his own presents. He looked at the pile he had gotten and thought briefly that he had gotten more of them than what he had expected. Georgina had drawn him a picture of him with Festus and sewed him a simple pencil case for his blueprint pencils. Jason and Piper had gotten him a book about weird mechanics facts. Percy had sent him a new orange t-shirt so Leo could return him the one that he had once borrowed after a workout (which, according to Percy, was ‘way too big for him anyway’). Leo’s moms had made him an awesome tool case where even the bigger tools would fit and baked some of his favorite goodies. Finally, it was the turn for Calypso’s present, though.

“What do you think it is?” Calypso asked, glancing at him curiously.

“My first guess would have been a pack of olives because you know how much I love those things… But this doesn’t feel like them. It’s mostly soft but there are some hard parts too. Maybe a bit like a backpack?"

“That wasn’t a half bad guess,” Calypso responded. “But I won’t tell you the correct answer; you can figure it out on your own.” She invited Leo to open the present.

“Okie, Sunshine, will do.”

He ripped the paper (which was Leo’s favorite shade of red) off notably less gracefully than Calypso had done with her presents, but his mouth opened involuntarily when he saw what was inside. It was a toolbelt, not looking like one of those belts that broke in his use after the first couple of days (Leo had a habit to load them too full sometimes), but sturdy, well made. Leo wondered where she had obtained the leather she had used in it, and hoped that it hadn’t cost her too much money. The belt had four different sized pockets for the tools and it seemed like one of them had something in it, but before Leo checked what was inside, he turned to Calypso:

“How did you know I needed one of these?”

“Probably because you’ve been carrying wrenches and stuff in your jean pockets and I’ve also seen your room and that’s enough for me to be able to tell you need a place for your tools,” Calypso smirked. Leo barely heard her answer. He didn’t want to admit aloud that one of the reasons why he was suddenly feeling so sentimental about a tool belt was because it reminded him a lot of the one his mom had made for him when he was a kid. “I hope this wasn’t too much trouble…” He noted more quietly than usual.

“It was not trouble at all,” Calypso reassured him. “I have sewed more difficult things. The leather was actually from one of my old bags that my dad got for me – which I hated – so I didn’t even have to buy a lot of the materials. Besides, you yourself made this,” she knocked the wooden cover of the jewelry box, “and I bet it was a lot more difficult.”

“Nah, it wasn’t…” Leo tried to protest and he noticed the others in the room had a hard time keeping their faces straight as they listened to the flatmates competing whose present had taken more time. “The music was probably the most complicated part.”

“Okay,” Calypso said, deciding to leave the debate there. “Hey, I forgot to mention that there is something small in one of the pockets. You could check it out now.”

“Alright, I will,” Leo told her. He reached out to the said pocket and found a small box from it. His smile instantly disappeared from his face when he realized what it was. Everyone went quiet for a while as they were waiting for his reaction.

“Why would you give me matches, especially today of all days?” He lifted his gaze from the box, his eyes sparkling angrily. Before anyone could say anything, he threw the box away and jumped up from his seat. Calypso’s sad face was the last thing he saw before storming out of the room.

[janekfan]

Chronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802141

Thank you @taylortut for helping me!!!

Jon looked at the clock.

537.

The glowing numbers burned themselves into his retinas. How had it been less than an hour since last he’d checked? No use for it. Better to get himself up and ready for work. But he’d closed his eyes against the headache blaring like a klaxon and he’d have to open them again at some point.

Taking advantage of his lonely flat, Jon allowed himself to indulge the noise pushing its way through grit teeth as he maneuvered his sore legs from under the quilt. He sat a moment, pressing the bare soles of his feet on the cold floor and levering his heavy body upright with a shaking arm.

Exhausted.

And it’s only--a quick glance.

544.

The hell was wrong with him?

Since just before accepting the position as Head Archivist, and rightly pissing off both Sasha and Tim on her behalf, Jon felt like he’d been constantly coming down with something. Dizzy and nauseous and unable to eat, he was chronically exhausted and while he’d never slept well at the best of times, it was evading him more than ever.

And there were his mornings. Struggling to motivate himself out of bed, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall. Deciding he could forgo a shower just once more and choosing instead to make breakfast. Forcing himself to eat a piece of dry toast with his heart hammering away in his throat and half laying on the table, panting through his tea. Mentally, Jon prepared himself for the walk to the train, automatically going for his cane because lord knew he needed the support.

He’d get to the Institute hours early.

At least that made him look good?

Taking advantage of being a cane user, Jon opted for a reserved seat, the guilt at truly needing one eating away at his insides. But there were black spots at the corners of his vision and he had to sit down before he fell down and the guilt is a far sight better than causing a scene. The trip was too short. His chest ached from the constant pounding and he pressed the hand not holding his cane for dear life against his breastbone. It didn’t help but the pressure and touch grounded him enough to stand up. To head to the cross street. To wait for the lights to change. To stagger down the stairs and into his office, to drop into his desk chair and focus on every breath of air moving into his body and back out of it.

Jon put his head down. There was no one here. Wouldn’t be for a couple hours yet and he was exhausted, shaking from it. Nauseated. There wasn’t a fever. He’d gone as far as to purchase a thermometer to be certain when the strange symptoms refused to abate no matter how often he let himself rest, no matter the meals he tried his damndest to eat, the water he drank down. He was trying. Jon couldn’t remember ever taking such good care of himself and of course it refused to pay off. In Uni, he’d driven himself into the ground with little consequence. He’d maintained those habits until a few months ago and now--

Muffled voices drifted through his door, the rise and fall of easy conversation. The kind he’d once been allowed to partake in. Laughter filled the air and while Jon wished to join them he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Why had he done it?

Why hadn’t he refused Elias?

Because you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Needy. Greedy, grasping, always striving to know answers and never satisfied with what you're given. You take what you don’t deserve.

Reluctantly, Jon stood, slowly, because doing anything quickly these days has him ducking his head between his legs or waking up on the floor without any recollection of how he came to be there. He could at least collect their research in person, greet them. Try to be the boss they deserved.

Sasha was the boss they deserved.

“Ah, g’good morning.”

“Jon!” Martin, smiling shyly. “You’re here so early!” He began to stammer and Jon’s legs began to ache. This wasn’t a good day. They seldom were anymore. “I m’mean, of course y’you are, you work very hard!” Martin was saved by Tim swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve broken ‘im, boss.” A flush rose in Jon’s cheeks. He could feel it. “No worries, Marto. He’s always been an early riser.” While it was said in jest, the tone settled heavy in Jon’s chest, directly beside the pain blossoming like a thorny rose. Luckily, he was rescued by Rosie, standing halfway down the stairs and informing him that Elias requested him in his office. Jon didn’t relish the climb, no matter how grateful he was to escape out from underneath Sash’s heavy gaze. She had every right and he would bear his punishment in silence until she chose, if she ever did, to forgive him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jon limped out of Elias’ office without any recollection of what they’d spoken about or if he’d even spoken at all. Thumping pain and panic and he knew he was rude to ignore Rosie at her desk but he wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation, fairly certain that he wasn’t able to currently speak, far too focused on trying to hide how ill he was. But every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears and he could barely remember where the door to the archives was with the way his head reeled and spun. Jon wanted to sink to the ground once he had the door between himself and the lobby but he’d never make it to his feet again after that. Push through, he told himself. Get to your desk. He allowed himself a moment, two, just to put his head to rights, to try and breathe through the battering of his pulse.

And oh god he wasn’t going to make it and he wondered if somehow Elias knew. It was as though he’d kept him standing there talking about nothing until Jon hit his limit, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his office.

But he had to try and he’d almost gotten down the ridiculously narrow stairwell before he forgot nearly entirely why he was there in the first place. Was he going up? Down? Meeting with someone? Just arriving? He could barely breathe and the panic welling in his throat was choking and the black was crawling over his eyes and the dizziness only increased and he needed...needed…

For a moment, Jon didn’t recognize where he was, the migraine, the fuzziness, conspiring against memory and reason. But he knew this color, the hideous lick of paint some contractor had splashed over the walls a lifetime ago.

Breakroom?

Wha--

“Jon!” He winced, his own name like broken glass shredding every sense to ribbons. “Christ, are you alright?” Martin, the sounds he made were shrill, grating, and if he’d been able to tell him to be silent, he would have. “We heard the noise--you’d, you fainted! On the stairs! Luckily it was only the last few.” Jon blinked, dull and dumb, forcing himself up, up, up, and through heavy mist and fog in his search for words. Weary to the marrow of his aching bones, Jon slumped on the cushions and tried to think of a way to stop Martin’s incessant chattering. Tim and Sasha, alerted most likely by all the commotion, stood over him and he craned his neck up to look at them. Tim especially looked furious.

“You could have been seriously hurt!”

“S’sorry…” And he was, between his rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing migraine, and difficulty drawing breath into his exhausted lungs, he wanted to cry with how sorry he was.

“This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself.” Jon wasn’t sure why the sting from Tim’s accusation cut so deep and he hung his head, biting trembling lips to prevent the tears threatening to spring free.

It wasn’t fair.

By all accounts he was taking care of himself. More than ever!

“Did you even eat today? Drink anything?” He nodded, miserable, unwell, and equipped with no better answers than the truth.

“Tim. He’s just come to.” The understanding was the final straw, and Jon’s sight blurred with salt damp. “I’ll make sure he eats something before going back to work.”

“Alright, Martin. If he gives you any trouble, call.” At Jon, he pointed. “And you, no trouble.” And he nodded miserably.

“Okay, they’ve gone.” The familiar sounds of the kettle heating filled the room, the clink of a pair of ceramic mugs, the rustling of the tea bags, Martin’s distracted murmuring, all combined to calm him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” Jon looked up, surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, accepting the small plate of biscuits and nibbling slowly and when he finished those, Martin offered up the tea. Sitting with him in companionable quiet, he sipped on his own cup. Nothing more was exchanged and when Jon finished he thanked Martin for the company and locked himself away.

Jon was at wit’s end. Nothing he tried seemed to improve anything and the few times he did speak with a doctor, he was sent away with the same, useless advice, or worse, told he was imagining things, making it up, having panic attacks even though he was familiar with those and this was not that.

Work was a nightmare made even more miserable with the overwhelming amount of paperwork, statements, boxes, misfiled folders and envelopes and items and Jon missed the easy camaraderie and understanding he’d had with Sasha and Tim. Maybe he should resign, try and salvage what little of the relationship they still had, or, or invite them out for dinner, his treat, but Elias would never let him quit and the very idea of entertaining exhausted him. A cuppa appeared at his elbow filled with something new, something floral and slightly sweet, accompanied, as always, by a few biscuits.

“That’s a lot of work, Jon.” He sipped, grateful, lifting an eyebrow in response.

“I knew it would be when I accepted this position.” Undeterred, Martin stumbled forward.

“Y’yeah, I mean, you would have. Of course. I just--” A breath. “I’ve finished with my other assignments, ready for round, uh. Well, another round!”

“Ah. Alright, I’ll bring something over when I pick up your translations.” Martin took back the cup, nodding enthusiastically, and Jon appreciated that it was business as usual, selecting a few he’d been putting off and making his way toward his assistants ignoring inquiring looks in favor of taking the chair Martin offered up to go over his expectations. Short, succinct. A few notes on one translation, advice to remember for next time, and Jon felt reasonably confident Martin could handle himself. It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his office that Jon realized that was the first time he’d been offered a chair. It was becoming apparent that Martin was good at noticing the little things about them. A blush heated his cheeks and he tried to rub it away, feeling ridiculous that such a small act of kindness made him feel so seen.

Jon pushed forward, ignoring the warnings his body was trying to give him in favor of plowing through his work like he’d always done, and by the time he made it home, was on the verge of collapse. Hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when Jon allowed himself to feel it. More than anything, he was used to having control over himself, working when he wanted, burying himself in the research, devouring knowledge. Now he was at the whim of his physical form. Paying more attention to it than ever before and never knowing if he was going to wake up and have a good day or a bad day and it was maddening. Managing whatever it was without knowing what it was, was impossible with no rhyme or reason he could discern.

So in the absence of both, Jon kept shoving his way through how difficult it was because if he could just be normal through pretending everything was normal, then it would be.

Jon knew Tim was cross with him and managed to avoid him for most of the day, taking breaks here and there like he’d promised Martin he would do. But his luck, while it had been holding steady, had just run out and he found himself cornered in the breakroom.

“What do you think you’re on about?” Frustration had long since turned to outrage, boiling over.

“Tim, I. I’m not sure what you mean--”

“Damn it, Jon! You’ve already taken on a job you aren’t fit for! You can’t keep heaping your work onto Martin and then swanning off!”

“That’s.” He balled his hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into his palms. How could he explain when even the doctors thought he was making it all up? Heat rushed through him, top to toe, flushing his face and he wavered, legs threatening to buckle, vision threatening to go dark. He was going to pass out a second time today if he didn’t sit down. But that would mean walking away from Tim, and he didn’t think the man would let him. At least not until he was done telling him off. Better to be silent. Try not to pay attention to how erratic the persistent beating caged behind fragile ribs had become.

“Why didn’t you say no?” Because he wanted to be useful. Because Elias made him feel like he was capable even if he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just let Sasha have this?” Because he was an awful, selfish person. “God, Jon. Why did you drag us all down here with you?”

Because he was lonely.

Because they’d been friends. Once.

Rather than remind Tim that he was free to go at any time, that he and Sash hadn’t been forced or coerced into accepting positions here in the archives, Jon pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Well?!” Sharp, strident, Tim’s shout echoed around in the space between his own hurting, agonal breaths in his ears.

“I. I, I need to si’down…” wanted to lay down. Wanted to sleep, trembling with exhaustion, about to go down.

“What?” Lashes fluttering as he gripped the thread of consciousness with both hands, he barely registered Tim’s hands around his shoulders, guiding him into a chair and pushing his head down between his knees. “Jon?”

“M’okay…”

“You are clearly not.” A wide palm settled on his back, keeping him folded over. It was helping.

“S’mm...been. S’fine.” The floor came back into focus, all the little cracks and imperfections and Jon counted the streaks in the pattern in an attempt to ground himself but kept losing track of the number. Neither moved until Jon attempted to sit up, slowly, accepting Tim’s help.

“Jon?” He looked spooked, pale. “Please, what’s going on?” His hand settled in the crux of shoulder and neck, thumb ghosting along his clammy skin, and Jon allowed himself to find a morsel of comfort in the familiar gesture, the threat of tears closer than ever. So he reached for him.

“I don’t know.” And Tim pulled away as if burned, the frustration and anger rising in his face again, and Jon was bereft. “T’truly! I--”

“Why won’t you be honest with me? Don’t you trust me?” Standing, he took a step backwards, away from him, the hurt in him a palpable thing. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

Yes. They were friends. It was most likely why for the first time in a long while, the pain in his chest wasn’t a physical ache.

“Tim, I.” Fingers folded to fists to rest on his knees. But he was already gone.

“Jon!” Tentative, Martin lifted his chin. “Oh, oh.” Having been crying, Jon figured his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he didn’t bother attempting to hide the evidence. “Alright.” Martin went about making tea, chamomile, herbal and calming, placing it before him on the table with a chocolate digestive. “Drink this down and then go home. It’s half six.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep will help.”

“Mm.”

“I could speak to them for you. If--”

“No!” All but shouted. “No. That won’t be necessary, Martin.” Carefully he stood, paused. “Thank you.” And left.

Jon called off.

Called off again.

Again.

Apologized to Elias in a curt email requesting leave and was granted it.

He ignored his phone. His texts. The knock at the door and Martin’s voice behind it. He slept when he was tired and he was tired often and it was easier besides, to finally listen to the screaming of his body. It was after hours on his fifth day gone when Tim let himself in with the spare key to Jon’s flat.

“Hey.” Sheepish, he held up his hands in surrender, a bag of takeaway from Jon’s favorite place dangling from one. “Martin said you wouldn’t let him in.” Dressed in the most comfortable clothes he had, which were also the shabbiest, Jon glared at him from where he laid on the couch. “I was an arse.” Slowly, he sat up, making Tim wait on purpose, a powerful frown still aimed in his direction.

“You were.” He was aware he looked a mess, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, but he felt a sight better for the rest he’d gotten.

“Would you accept an apology?” Folding his arms, Jon leaned back into the cushions and fixed his stare at whatever rubbish was on the telly.

“Might do.” Silently, Tim scurried into the tiny kitchen and Jon listened to the familiar sounds of him rooting around for cutlery. It smelled delicious and comforting, a reminder of nights spent together laughing at nothing on this same couch and despite himself, Jon began to relax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Tim’s face split in a wide, relieved grin, and he flopped down next to him, planting a loud kiss to his temple before urging him to eat. “Martin sent you here.”

“An angry Marto is not to be trifled with.” Through a mouthful of noodles, Tim chuffed in laughter. “Wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to stop being a prick.”

“He did not.”

“He did not. But it was more than implied!” He put his bowl on the low table in front of them, sitting forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “And he was right. I didn’t give you a fair shake and accused you of awful things. And I know you’re doing your best at this job.”

“Gertrude isn’t making it easy.”

“Neither is your health, I take it.” Jon set his own meal aside, curling into the padded arm.

“No. It isn’t.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“I know some things that help. M’Martin has been invaluable.”

“Has he, now?”

“Leave off!”

“Okay, okay.” But he continued giggling as Jon felt his face go hot, muttering.

“He really has.” This time Tim pulled him gently into an embrace.

“Then Sash and I will just have to catch up.”

[alaska2pm]

So I wanted to write or type this but didn't know where or to who but I just wanted you to hear me out on this. Despite all the things that have happened my entire life, but especially in the past two years, I've always said that I was moving on from anything bad that happened.

I forgive you. & Here I am forgiving you again, for all the things that have happened.

Everyone had conspiracies, different ideas, and opinions about things that have happened. I really needed and still need somebody to help me with the life I grew up used to, is nothing to the life I see in Anchorage. I'm followed everywhere for years. I'm known every single place I go. I get talked to and about everywhere I go. They take pictures of me everywhere I go. Especially thankful for all of the support, help, and people that have stood up for everything I was going through.

But to get to the point because we know I can go in 100 directions with this and it'll be all magical for everyone lol. But the point of this was to say that despite all the things that were meant to kill me, I kept walking with strength, running with strength, doing everything I do with strength.

When I was sick with a bad fever, and not doing well because of being soaked every time I went outside and it felt like I was in a shower.. (haha remember.) So the cold was awful, but I made it. But my daughter was treated for pneumonia when she was born, she was born barely breathing, and she had a hole in her lung, right where I have a scar from surgery and also a place I got shot. Causing a hole in my lung. She healed within hours. Fully. They thought she was deaf and couldn't hear out of her left ear, and she passed the second test for her right ear, but she healed and could hear. She's a little mini. She's perfect. My husband was deployed weeks after this. For 9 months. But having her made me be able to be happy even when sad.

About a year after this my dad went to the hospital for back pain in Ohio, and woke up from a coma a month later. He had a tube in his neck, couldn't walk, and was also treated for pneumonia. He also had his toe taken off due to frost bite so bad that it covered his foot. (My daughter was treated at the hospital at 10 months or so for having a hair wrapped around her toe. So bad we couldn't get it. Weird right?) My dad taught himself to walk again with help, and fully recovered from this and is healthy.

My legs broke over a year ago. I was at a hotel in downtown Anchorage and realized I had two broken legs. I was also getting open heart surgery. (They tried to kill me during this multiple times in horrible ways, super thankful for those who kept me safe when it was going on)

But I could walk with two broken legs and made it to places to be able to heal.

About 6 months ago I had a tube put in my throat. I felt it all and wasn't numb. I felt the pop, the hole, and it going into my stomach. I was able to talk perfectly fine because of those who saved my voice when I was drowning, when I was being cut across my throat every time I sung. & To the ladies using it against me lately, you are hero's to me. I was able to talk when I couldn't talk. I was able to walk when I couldn't walk. I was able to be healthy and safe so I could also keep you safe. I just felt the fall and fully landing and breaking both legs a couple days ago.

There's so much to this that I want to tell you about. So many awesome people, music, every movie made, and tiktok, and the entire entertainment business that saved my life.

I can never thank you enough. To me you've always been perfect.

I've had a rough two years. I've been homeless, assaulted, killed, put in jail, robbed, and hurt and had my heart completely broken, when it wasn't even beating in my chest anymore for days. For weeks. No beating heart for weeks.

I love life. That excited for life, smile that you feel when you feel that excitement, is me. It's fully me. It's always been me. Isn't life beautiful? And magical? And doesn't hearing these things bring more inspiration than the stories with the screams I hear all day. I am deaf in both ears and hearing with my face lol. When I cried a couple times, you laughed while you could hear what I'm talking about. Thanks to you, me, magic, and technology, I have hands. I have feet :) and I have arms. & That I can see, and that I can hear, and I finally got to taste food after two years. I'm tired. Exhausted. I sleep now in a millasecond without closing my eyes and wake up at the same time. Weird right? It's definitely weird. I remember being scared and needing you around.

Where did you go recently? I can't feel you. I can't sense you, and I can't laugh with you anymore.

If it's goodbye, I hope you have a life that is the best version of life you could of ever wanted. I hope that you have inspiration, and inspire. I have helped a lot of people in the past few years with getting noticed, numbers, and views. So I hope that everything for you works out.

I never hurt you. Any of you. I never lied to you. I never betrayed you. I'm not perfect, I'm just me.

& believe in magic, ghosts, Angels, superheros, and friendship. And most of all believe in love. It's the best feeling.

Equal balance :)

#tillnexttime

[purplesurveys]

1025

Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? I don’t read all that often so no, I don’t usually feel as though I’m encountering a book for the second time. I do read a lot of wrestlers’ memoirs and sometimes I’ll come across the same story told from two different accounts, but for the most part I’m able to tell who wrote which.

What has been bothering you a lot lately? This new and major life change still, obviously. I had a beautiful, grand vision of graduating college with a significant other and building our future together and supporting each other in whatever path we take, so having to dismantle all of that against my will and calling it a ‘bother’ is definitely an understatement.

What (or who) have you been missing lately? Everything pre-September. My life has been going downhill ever since. I do try to make life a little better for myself everyday, but I’d be lying to myself if I say life has been the same.

Are you trustworthy? Yes.

Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? They never taught me this specifically, but I can imagine that my mom is more the type to tell me something like this should the need arise.

Have you ever hallucinated? I don’t think so. The closest thing to hallucinating I experienced was when I was 5. I had a high fever and kept having these awful nightmares, and I could barely tell the difference between being in the nightmare and real life. If I remember correctly, I had already woken up after my grandma shook me but I was still in the nightmare ~AU~ and still kept yelling things that were relevant in my nightmare.

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? OMG, closed all the way. It would bother me to no end if the door was open, to the point that I probably wouldn’t even be able to fall asleep.

What flags do you have in your room, if any? I used to have a Pride flag but that’s gone now cos it was too muddy and dirty anyway. 

What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? I can think of more than one, honestly. There’s Gabie, my college life, my college org, and my first job that I’m actually incredibly happy in. Past me just wanted a job that can let me earn on my own, so it’s such a fun bonus to be happy where I am.

What is the worst decision you ever made? Allowing myself to be treated like shit because “this person will change one day, I just have to wait.” Ugh, I really need to start being nicer to myself.

Do you miss college? Yeah but with this COVID thing I’m kinda glad I got out of there just in time. I probably would’ve missed college a lot more if life had remained normal, but with the new norm being online classes and asynchronous learning and never getting to be in campus...I preferably wouldn’t want to take part in these things.

Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? No.

What is your favorite arcade game? I just go for the basketball ones every time. The piano blocks game is also fun, as well as the arcade beer pong.

Do you feel neglected? Yeah. I don’t really have a choice, though. It’s something I’ve had to adjust to.

What school subject(s) are/were your best? For both high school and college, I got my best grades in history classes and electives. I’m one of the rare species who doesn’t have a problem with – and actually enjoys – memorization, lol. I also did well in English lit and biology.

Are you allergic to grass? I don’t believe I’m allergic but in my old school my legs used to get extremely irritated with the grass we have over there and it would itch like a bitch. It definitely could’ve be an allergy, but I only ever got such a reaction in that place and it’s never happened anywhere else.

Do you remember to water plants? My parents like to take care of that chore, so I don’t have to remember to do so.

What season is your birthday in? Uhhhh according to the Western calendar lol, I think it’s spring? We don’t have that here though, and we don’t follow ‘seasons’ in general except for dry and wet.

Name 3 creative people you know. Nina, Berns, Andi.

Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. I don’t really aspire to be like any of them...I watch certain YouTube channels because I find them entertaining, not because I necessarily want to be them. One video creator I watch whose life seems to be so perfect and whose life I certainly wouldn’t complain about if I suddenly had it, though, is Andi Manzano. Heart Evangelista’s a good pick, too.

What color was your first car? It’s white.

What year did you graduate? I graduated high school in 2016 and college in 2020. < Found a twin.

When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? Early September.

Have you ever been scammed? Hmm, I don’t think so.

Are you allergic to pollen? Nope.

What style of wedding dress do you like best? Something lace, backless to an extent, and preferably body-hugging as I don’t like dresses that would appear too poofy on me. Think Kate Middleton’s wedding dress but just slightly less poof on the bottom part.

Are you over your first love? No.

Do you talk on the phone a lot? I used to. I don’t anymore.

Would you rather call or text? Text, but if I had to explain something or if something had to be explained to me, I don’t mind getting into a call as long as I’m briefed first. 

Do you always answer your phone? I never do unless I recognize the number. If it’s an unknown contact, I’m hitting Reject immediately because decent people text first before calling.

When was the last time you went to a party? Late Feb. It was the same party for Hans and his friends’ small business that had hit its first year that I’ve mentioned several times on here, ugh. Haven’t really been to any gatherings since then.

What was the last thing you ate? A chocolate donut from J.Co.

What’s the last book you checked out from the library? It’s a book summarizing the Philippines’ entire history that I wish I had more time to read and appreciate.

Do you have a twitter? Yeah but since the pandemic hit my tweets have been a lot less fun for obvious reasons, so I haven’t been using it a lot.

If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? “the things i do for @Mythical aaaaaahhhhhh 1 AM-9 AM livestream later and I still have work from 9 AM-6 PM tomorrow” then the dizzy emoji copy-pasted six times. SERIOUSLY though, timezones suck and I shake my fist at LA for being 16 hours behind lmaaaao, jk. But Good Mythical Morning has never had an all-day livestream before and they never said anything about archiving it on their channel when it’s over, so I don’t want to miss out. It’s whatevs, I’ll just drink a shitload of coffee tomorrow for work.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? I think it was my mom, but it’s been a while since that call.

What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? I was making a Monte Cristo but it was to cook the egg mixture that I had coated the sandwich in, not cook the sandwich itself.

What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? Green. It was a freebie from the old PR agency I interned at, so it’s a little funny I’m now using it to take notes at my present agency.

Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Gab’s youngest sister.

Who sent the last e-mail you got? It’s from a workmate, and I just got CC’d so it wasn’t addressed directly to me.

What song is currently stuck in your head? For the whole afternoon it had been Look After You by The Fray, so let’s just go with that.

Do you have a favorite shape? No.

What color are the sheets on your bed? Blue with some yellow and gold prints.

What time do you usually go to bed? 10:30 is a safe bedtime.

Do you ever use coloring books? I’ve got loads of them but they have not been colored since early 2019 because I have yet to invest in a good set of coloring pencils.

Are you planning on watching the Olympics? No, it never appealed to me.

Do you pronounce the word “often” with or without a “t” in the middle? I never pronounce it with the t sound.

Have you ever been on a trapeze? Nope.

Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? I was more obsessed with it as a kid and will hoard the bubble wrap I see at home. These days I’d still pop a good size of it, but it’s not like my life anymore.

Are there any waterfalls near where you live? There’s one in the city, but I wouldn’t say it’s near. I have to drive to the upper part of the city to get to the waterfalls which would probably take me around a half hour to do.

Do you like seafood? Oh for sure. My life pretty much runs on seafood.

Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? I wore a school uniform from kindergarten all the way through to high school.

If so, what did it look like? The blouse was white while the necktie and the skirt were plaid, mostly in red. We also had to wear black leather shoes with white socks.

Do you personally know anyone who is an author? My great-uncle wrote the said library book I checked out. I also had a number of professors who are established authors.

Do you own a Polaroid camera? Nah but I’ve always wanted one. Maybe now’s my chance to finally get my own.

Do you enjoy baking? It looks fun and is definitely something I’d want to try my hand on.

What’s your favorite type of flower? Peonies. < Agreed.

Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? I was headed back to Manila and unbeknownst to us at the time, that arrival would be known for the biggest family argument we have had thus far. I don’t want to go back to that place in my head again, so let’s just move on.

Do you know anyone who is left-handed? Mhm, like Aya.

What is something you think is underrated? Macarons do not get enough love for sure. It’s god-tier dessert.

Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? As soon as it hits 30ºC, I’m complaining.

In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? Thanks to Gabie and the irreparable mess she has since caused, I’m too scared to think of the future now. I never want to predict or hope for things anymore, and I’d rather wing shit from now on and not expect certain things to happen.

How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? I live right on the border of two regions so I literally went out of my home city/region every day whenever I had to report to school. I will be doing the same once where allowed to report in the workplace.

What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? Reading.

What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? I’ve only had one but it’s been a blast so far and I don’t plan on shifting paths because this is where I’ve always planned to be in. That said, I love my job in PR and working with different clients.

What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? Sour cream!

Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? My parents take turns washing it by hand.

Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? Jeju, South Korea.

Farthest south? Bali, Indonesia.

East? Idk...Fukuoka in Japan or some province in the Philippines? I’m not too sure which is east-er, lmao.

West? Malaysia. Would’ve been Thailand if we actually got to go there this year -__- but whatever.

How often do you run the dishwasher? We don’t have one.

Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? Eh, either is fine but I do it at the sink a little more often.

Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. I cannot for the life of me relate to makeup or skincare routines. I also never understood the appeal of Instagram and posing for photos in public and painstakingly editing them for likes.

Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. ^ I think those still fit here, since people my age are into both.

Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? We have masquerade masks on our living room table and I don’t understand why my mom, queen of throwing things out, is not throwing them out. It’s such a random...addition and they don’t go with the vibe of the house at all. But they’ve been hanging out there for so long that my family doesn’t even notice anymore, and much less do they say anything about them.

Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? We have a coffee maker, which is a bit of a unnecessary/luxury purchase where I live; I dunno if it’s the same for other countries. My dad’s a chef so he knows all the tips and hacks to be resourceful in the kitchen, and so he’s never felt the need to buy any other fancy shmancy kitchen stuff like air fryers or waffle irons or sandwich presses.

What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? They both took up hotel and restaurant management, just in different universities.

Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? HAHAHAHA, not at all. People are often surprised when I tell them about what my parents do for living which is understandable, given that journalism and PR are such far cries from the hospitality industry as a whole.

What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? Trig and calc.

How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? ...I’m still learning...

How old were you when you learned how to swim? Around 4 or 5. My parents liked taking us to this water park every weekend when my siblings and I were a lot younger, so I learned how to handle myself in the water from all those trips.

How do you react when someone is rude to you? If it’s someone I know and am close with, I just tell them directly that they’re having a bit of an attitude with me. If it’s anyone else, my reaction depends on my mood: if I’m feeling nice I just simply counter the rudeness with kindness, but sometimes I’ll be just as big of a bitch, just subtle.

Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? Yes, back in middle school. I feel bad now, because I kind of just ditched her, but at the time I felt like it was my only option. < I remember being like this with someone Gab and I tried to be friends with back in Grade 7. Sofie was also a little clingy, but in a way that I never minded it because I actually enjoyed her company.

What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Typhoons, definitely.

Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? The dry season, because I hate the sun.

Do you have a Netflix account? We have a family bundle and I have my own account on that. But yeah, I don’t pay for it.

Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? We don’t have an attic but there was one time a stray cat got into the house and it took forever to get it back out, lol. It was feisty so we couldn’t just pick it up. The cat also ended up scratching some of our curtains.

Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? Anywhere new, man. My only traveling rule is to not repeat destinations, at least not within 5-7 years. I’m open to exploring any town or city or country I’ve never been to.

How long does it take to get there? -

When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? It was a new chapter last August when I graduated college, but I had to very hurriedly turn the page into a new chapter when I got my internship - that would eventually lead to my first job - and went through a breakup last September.

What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? I rarely go inside my sister’s room, just because there’s never really any reason to be there unless I’m borrowing something from her.

What is the last random act of kindness you did? Gave a small tip to the nice man who helped me get out of my parking spot when I went to the bank yesterday. Loiterers are common in public areas and they’ll usually help out people exiting from their parking, so I usually give whatever I can to help them get by. 

Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? My bedroom light is never turned on, but I don’t really do it specifically to reduce my electricity usage. I just don’t like my personal space to be too bright, and it’s just a nice bonus to be able to save on electricity while doing so.

Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? Typically, yes, although I do have certain foods that I have no interest in trying. < Yep. I’m open to absolutely anything but if a meal has something I already don’t like, like fruits or raisins, then I shy away from those.

Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? Not as often as I used to, but I definitely still have soft spots for A Fever, Pretty. Odd., and Vices & Virtues. As for the newer music, I don’t tune in to the albums themselves and listen to the entire tracklists but I wouldn’t skip a P!ATD single if it came on the radio.

Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? I probably have but they’ve all been forgettable.

Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? Not really. I’ll listen to Hayley here and there, but that’s it.

Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? Yes. This has been the case with my mom for around 6-7 years now. I guess there was just one point in our relationship where she got too mad, I got too traumatized, and it has since kept me from saying it back.

If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? Yeah, especially if I shared something deeply personal and important to me, like a life achievement. Of all social media, people are always most likely to react on Facebook (relatives in particular would like or heart anything I post lmao) so a post that would go completely ignored would be confusing but would also sting.

Which friend do you confide in most? Used to be Gabie but now it’s either Anj or Andi.

Do you wear a cross? No.

What is your opinion on Arby’s? THIS IS SUCH A LONG SURVEY, AAAHHHHHHHH. Anyway, never had it. I have heard Arby’s is one of the rather mid-tier restaurants in the US, like it’s not trash but it’s no In-N-Out...I’d still love to try it though. Aren’t they known for like roast beef sandwiches or something? Those sound delightful.

When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? I just want it to be idiot-proof because I can get pretty dumb in the kitchen.

What is your favorite doughnut? Chocolate glazed with sprinkles. Will always be a kid at heart when it comes to donuts.

Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? We don’t have one.

Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? I jumped on the bandwagon once the first movie came out, which was still pretty early on in the whole Twilight craze tbh. I started in 2009 when I was able to read all the books and watch New Moon in the cinema, then I proceeded to catch the midnight screenings for all the movies that came after that.

What is your favorite party game? Pinoy Henyo is a big favorite. It’s basically a Filipino version of Heads-Up, just ever so slightly better and more chaotic, which makes it funnier.

Do you or your parents rake your yard? My mom sweeps, not rakes.

Were you pro-Obama? I think ‘pro’ is too strong a stance. I like remaining neutral and cautious when it comes to US presidents especially considering the US’ history of imperialism in and overall relationship with my country but like, I don’t hate Obama. My vote, if I ever was eligible, would still go to him, but of course it’s best to remain wary and critical of his moves.

What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? I don’t really have one. I don’t do much shopping there. < Same.

What was the last illegal thing you did? Probably speeding. My lunch break ends at 1 PM but I was still at the bank by like 12:50 yesterday, so I had to drive like a maniac to get home on time lmao.

Who did you last go to the movies with? Gabie.

What color was the last vehicle you were in? White.

Do you have any family members in the military right now? As far as I know, no.

Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? Nope, no ceiling fans in the house in general.

When was the last time you wished time would move faster? Today. I love my work, but it can get tiring too and I also find myself occasionally wishing the day was over already.

Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? Nopes. But I do remember when owls were a popular hipster design and everyone had like owl necklaces and shit. What a time.

Have you ever heard voices? Like other voices in my head? No.

Do you believe in angels and demons? Nope.

Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? It wasn’t my neighbors per se but the helpers of my neighbors used to play cheesy 80s and 90s hits obnoxiously loud every morning and it woke me up every time and I didn’t really have a choice but wait for their stupid listening session to end. I’m so glad they since stopped, but it was my own little piece of hell back then.

Did your Barbies go on dates? [continued from last night] I didn’t do much with my Barbies, honestly. I was mostly curious about their production and liked taking off their clothes to see how the toy company dealt with their private areas lmao. I think my sister and I also drew and doodled on a bunch of our dolls.

If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? I didn’t really do any coming out. One day I just acknowledged my attraction towards Gabie with myself, and when I started dating her I just let everyone figure it out for themselves. I’ve never felt like I had an orientation anyway, so I never felt the need to come out.

Where did you meet your first crush? School, back in kindergarten. But we didn’t formally meet until the end of grade school.

Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? Not at all. I remember the people who introduced us, but not our first meeting itself.

Do you ever go places with wet hair? On some days back in college, when there was no traffic going to school I would end up arriving with my hair still kind of wet. This is also the case with Sunday mass (when we could still attend), since we usually headed out as soon as we had taken a shower.

Who is your favorite little girl? I’m a sucker for my friends’ little sisters, like Gabie’s and Athenna’s. I also never got to have a lot of female cousins, so I cherish the few ones I have - Maggie, Bree, and Sam - who are all considerably younger than me.

What do you want the most in life? Contentment. Wherever place I ultimately end up in, I hope to find satisfaction and contentment in it.

What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? Choosing to say ‘fuck it, what do I have to lose’ and send a letter of interest for my present company, who didn’t even have any job openings at the time I sent it out. If I shied away from the lack of openings and never sent out that letter, I never would have been offered an internship, and without taking that internship I never would have been offered a job after a couple of months. So I have to say that’s a pretty fucking solid move of mine.

Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Sigh. I avoid this exact thought all the time because of how sad it’s able to make me.

When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? Yup, it’s just habit.

If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? I’d pick Billie Eilish’s insane ability to hold very soft/quiet notes (ugh, she’s grown on me), Hayley Williams’ range, and Beyoncé’s stamina.

What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Synth pop, indie rock, R&B.

Where did you buy your dishes from? My mom bought our newest set from...probably a department store. Idk, I wasn’t there with her when she got it a few weeks ago.

Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? There’ll be advancements in this lifetime for sure, but we’ve got a long way to go before colonization is even remotely feasible.

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? Maybe all the shit I bought Gabie throughout the six years, most of them I had to skip meals for? Lmao just kidding, I’m not that kind of ex. I got her a lot of useful stuff, like a Hydroflask, and I mean I don’t completely regret buying them. As long as she still uses them and as long as those things still help in making life easier for her, then the purchases are still worth it.

What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? My cross stitch kit that I thought I was never going to learn. I am now realizing how fun it is and will probably buy a shit ton of kits for myself once Christmas season is over.

Have you ever been on a ship? Yes. My dad gave me a cruise trip for my 18th birthday, and it ended up being really fun :)

Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? Yeah, I go on detoxes 1-2 times a year where I deactivate all my accounts and am only reachable through text. It usually happens every Christmas season, but sometimes I’ll go through a particularly low point where I’d feel the need to go on a social media break.

Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? I don’t listen to Van Halen.

Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Any character from BoJack Horseman. What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had? I wasn’t required to take foreign language electives in college like other courses, so I really wish I got to take them :( I can’t imagine how fun it would’ve been to go to class for the sole purpose of learning Spanish or Korean or Italian. Also, even though I took like 5-6 history electives, I still wish I had the chance to take all the other history offerings.

Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces? I have been in the general vicinity of both – my mom works in a hotel and we’ve booked rooms there several times, while my cruise took place in the liner my dad works in. But I’ve only ever been to my dad’s workplace, when he took some time out of his day to show me his kitchen and let me have some of the escargot before they went out to guests :)

What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy? I quickly looked it up and I don’t disagree with its thesis.

Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? I used to be like this with Gab, but with me...hmm, my mom liked biting us as kids, and sometimes she’d go pretty hard, yeah. It was never out of anger, of course.

Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite) Yes.

Ever gave one? Anddddd yes.

Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type? Shy if a situation is overall unfamiliar, but I can be outgoing once I start to warm up.

Do you think it’s weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Nope.

Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about? Having been unceremoniously dumped, I’m self-conscious about a million things rn. It’ll take a while for things to be back on track again, self-esteem-wise.

Are you flirty at all? No.

Are you racist at all? I don’t particularly like the Chinese because of the way they treat Filipinos and how most of them behave in my country, like that one asshat who was caught shitting in a local tourist spot here. It gets too tiring to keep on forgiving them at some point.

Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) I don’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.

If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? If they were distressed, I’d take them to the nearest security guard and ask for help in looking for their parents. I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with a kid who was otherwise bubbly and doing okay by themselves because I might just look like a kidnapper if I went near them lol.

Would you rather adopt or have your own child? Have my own.

What would you class as cheating on someone? If you’re doing something that requires you to be too close with another person to the point that you have to acknowledge that your partner is not aware of what you’re up to/they don’t have to know what you’re up to. Once that acknowledgment is out of the bag, it’s cheating for me.

Do you try to be politically correct? Yeah.

What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? Dolphins.

Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? I don’t think so.

As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? Hoops for days.

Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it? I think it’s vital to have PE in an education system that requires students to be mostly on their butts. A lot of people hate getting physical and active, and that’s exactly the reason why PE should be around.

Do you recycle? I try to, whenever I can.

Are you interested in current world issues? Yep yep, very.

Do you think you are mature, or immature? I can definitely be petty at times, but I think I mostly act maturely and that those who know me can back me up on it.

What kind of career are you interested in? Public relations, which is under the umbrella of media and communications. I like not being tied to one product, and it’s always awesome to see campaigns that I help with for various big brands come to life.

Do you own a pair of sunglasses? Nah. I was never into them.

Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which? I use a hair tie on a daily basis and bobby pins for formal events where I need my hair to be pristinely neat. I nevr use hair clips.

How badly do you get acne? (If at all) Oh god. I got two pimples in between my eyes right now, and it’s the first time I’ve gotten acne since...a year and a half, maybe? My acne isn’t bad at all and it’s never been an issue, so I always panic on the extremely rare occasions I see one or two pop up on my face.

What’s the best way to cope with a breakup? I should be the one asking that! Tips are always welcome, you guys.

If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? I probably came off as aloof, which is a fairly common observation.

How many text messages do you have in your inbox at the moment? I don’t delete messages and my phone doesn’t provide me with the total, so suffice it to say there are probably thousands of texts currently in my phone.

When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make? I’m still deciding if I want to keep Gabie around. She honestly doesn’t deserve it, but she’s also my best friend in the world, so idk.

In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult? Chemistry, trigonometry, calculus. Physics was hard in high school but became easier in college, and I believe it boils down to the teachers who taught them.

Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with? Yes.

Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? I haven’t done that in a while.

Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? I think it was one of my cousins, Maggie. I don’t remember. But it was probably her.

Who was the last person that asked if you were okay? Maybe Andi? I haven’t had anyone ask me that for a while now.

What does your handwriting look like? I’m the go-to person whenever neat handwriting is needed on a document or something, so I guess that must mean my handwriting is decent. The biggest comment that I get, though, is that my letters are too tiny hahaha.

Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner? Sometimes I’ll use hair gel for important events because I have the most annoying baby hairs, but otherwise those two are pretty much all I use.

Who were your best friends in primary school? Angela, Pia, Tammy, Marielle, Pam, Gaille, Nina.

Do you still speak to any of them? I only ever actively speak with Angela; she’s still my best friend. Pia and I are mutuals on social media and we’ll sometimes keep the other up to speed with the latest gossip lolol, but I wouldn’t call her my best friend. I lost contact with Tammy, Nina, and Pam after high school, and Gaille when she migrated. I cut Marielle out of my life after she did something shitty that broke my trust.

What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine? A bottle of water, I think.

What color hair did your first crush have? Black.

What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? Sneakersssssss.

Are you more masculine or feminine? More feminine, definitely.

If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? I don’t know how to...design things on my own lol, but I’d love a Friends-themed mug, or maybe even a GMM-themed one :)

What is the best beach you’ve been to? Palawan felt almost unreal with how breathtaking it was. I really felt at peace there.

What is one thing you physically can’t do? Lift a water container.

Have you ever been to a funeral? Not a funeral, but I’ve been to several wakes.

Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? I don’t think we have those.

Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? Again, we don’t have those.

Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? My mom, in what really shouldn’t come as a shock, has always liked for us to be in the front row. I’m SO glad we don’t have to physically attend mass anymore; I always felt like I was being burned alive whenever I entered a church lol

What is your favorite park? I wish I had an answer for this but we don’t have any public parks because Philippines.

Have you ever felt an earthquake? Yeah, it happens prrrrretty often, at least once every few months. There was one just last week.

Do you chew gum regularly? Nah but this did made me think of JM, who always had a pack of gum with him without fail everyday.

Where did you go on your first train ride? It was headed to Manila, but my destination was Pasay.

Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? It’s possible. I went to high school with people who were half-German and half-Swiss, and I’m guessing they held dual citizenships.

What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) I don’t really root for any other than my college’s team.

Do you dunk your cookies in milk? If there’s milk around, sure. 

What is something you are confident about? I don’t know. I haven’t felt that at all lately.

Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? Nope.

How do you feel about needles? Can’t do shots, blood tests, and IV without freaking out and/or feeling faint. But I can handle sewing needles apparently, judging from how I was able to do cross-stitching last week. As for tattoos, still unsure if I can handle getting one even though I already have a couple of designs in mind.

What is your favorite accent to listen to? That British accent that sounds super posh lol, the one Florence Pugh and Hugh Grant have. Idk what it’s called.

What was the reason you last got dressed up? Job interview.

Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? I was the subject of a rumor once, but I didn’t and don’t find it cruel. It was a typical middle school rumor.

^ What were they? That I was dating my friend Andi and was bisexual. The one with Andi I can kind of understand, since I did have a bit of a crush on her then; I just didn’t know I was bad at hiding it. But for people to go as far as telling others I was bisexual was a little surprising.

Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? Form-fitting. I never liked loose clothing on me.

^ What about on your preferred gender? I don’t have a preferred gender, and I think it really depends per person.

What do you do when you are really, really mad? I isolate myself so that I don’t have to explode on anyone.

Would you rather go naked than wear fur? Is it real fur? I’d go naked.

Do you put a line through your 7’s? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.

^ What about your Z’s? ^ Same answer. I like keeping things different, hahaha.

What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? Break my self-esteem. Constructive criticism is fine, of course, but it’ll be very hard to forgive people who make it their lives to point out my flaws or carelessly hurl hurtful words/insults at me, aka my mom. I’ve never forgiven her about it and it’s the main reason why I’ve since been unable to say “I love you” back whenever she says it.

Are you able to forgive and forget? No. That’s not my preferred route; I’ve always been the grudge-y kind of person.

Do you like cold pizza? Yesssssss. I don’t have a preference between hot or cold, but I have never complained about cold pizza for sure. I ate a slice of pizza right out of the fridge just yesterday.

What is your favorite fruit? Eh.

What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? I don’t really have one. I guess orange, as long as it’s not too sour - so basically not pure orange juice lol.

Do you like broccoli and cheese? Haven’t tried it but the pairing sounds *chef’s kiss*

What about potatoes and cheese? Yum.

Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? Not lately, but I plan to.

Toaster or toaster oven? Toaster oven, since we’ve actually had that. We’ve never needed a toaster.

What are you most known for? It depends on who you’re talking to, I’d say. I think different people know me by different things.

Do you have any reputations? What are they? I’m never comfortable claiming things like this, because there’s always the possibility that who I think I am to other people might be far from the truth. Overall, I just try to be myself and still remain nice to everyone while doing so so that I don’t develop a strong reputation for anything.

Do you wear band shirts? Not really.

^ What band was on the last one you wore? I don’t wear them.

Do you own any hats? Describe them. I have a white sunhat that I never got to wear because I’ve always found it too big and flashy and I never wanna draw attention to myself when outside, which it definitely would’ve done for me.

What about masks, you got any? Describe those. I just wear the basic blue surgical face masks.

What was the last thing to leave you speechless? Hearing the amount of money GMM raised for their livestream earlier today, and basically seeing just how insanely successful the livestream in general was.

Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? My parents never got to know my college friends so they don’t have an opinion on them; they’re still pretty attached to my group in high school hahaha so like Gab, Angela, Athenna, Chelsea, etc, who they all still love and occasionally ask about.

Have you been called a bad influence? Idk, maybe, out of earshot.

Describe your favorite pair of socks. I don’t have any.

Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately? First real job and the breakup of a long-term relationship that I had initially finally stopped having doubts about.

Have any self-done piercings? OMG I can finally see the end of this survey holy shit. It took me two damn days, ughhhhhh. Anyway, hell no. I’d injure myself so badly.

Ever pierced someone else? Most definitely not.

Do you get distracted easily? It depends on how much I actually care about whatever it is I’m doing. < Agree. My focus is unpredictable.

Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? Stressful. No matter how pleasant they or the conversation turns out to be, I’m always more stressed than anything else and I let out a sigh of relief as soon as it’s over.

How do you feel about getting new neighbors? It’d be super refreshing, considering the houses on our left and right were literally just built, but never actually inhabited.

How many ceiling fans are in your home? We don’t have any. Do you tweet your life away? Not anymore. I used to tweet my entire life back in high school, but when I realized literally none of my classmates were the same and that I looked so lonely doing it, I made an effort to lessen the tweets and eventually the new habit caught on.

How do you feel about shameless self promoting? I don’t think much of it.

When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? Haha, yeah.

What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? Not always. Soooo many people like typing in all caps anyway, so this has been more normalized to me lately.

[captainchrisfics]

We Have Today

About: After he’s gunned down on a mission, a first-person pov narrator tries to take care of her super soldier boyfriend. Of course, being Captain America helps with the whole not dying thing, but Steve could never get away that easily without a good reprimanding. And I could never end a fic without a good kiss.

Word Count: 2,807

Requested By: Anonymous. Thanks for sending this my way! I had the absolute best time writing the dialogue in this one, it was a lot of fun writing my take on a trope I love too. I’m always accepting reqs if you have any more. Hope you enjoy!!

“I cannot believe you sometimes, Rogers,” I snapped at Steve, scoffing out of frustration. Exactly what I needed right now, while entirely exhausted from battling far more Hydra agents than we anticipated, was a boyfriend with bullet holes scattered throughout his bicep and shoulder. “Thinking your whole body can fit behind that dinner plate of a shield,” I continued to chastise him with a shake of my head as I tore at my suit, ripping some fabric to apply pressure with while we waited for our ride. 

We got what we came for. In fact, the tech was safely buried in the bag slung over my shoulder. The job was done. Almost. 

There was one rogue Hydra sniper left hidden away at the top of a tree. Steve spotted him first and responded so quickly, as if it were an instinctive reflex, that he barely considered what he was doing by jumping in front of the already-aimed gun. It’d been pointed at me. I returned fire successfully, but Steve was still hit. To say the least, today just wasn’t ours. 

He looked far less heroic laying on the forest floor in a crumpled heap of more red than usually accompanied his white and blue. Steve wheezed as he inhaled, though he seemed fine enough to give me one of those frustrating crooked grins as he said, “It’s never failed me before. I mean, look at me,” he tried to spread his arms so I could get a proper view, but all I saw was the way his face contorted with pain. “Pretty damn good for pushing a hundred.” He coughed before allowing his star-spangled piece of vibranium to clatter to the ground. 

“Dear, you look like Swiss cheese,” I countered sympathetically as I stuck a knife between his lips so Steve could bite down on something instead of busting my eardrums in 3... 2... 1...

I pulled the cloth taught around the worst of his wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Steve’s screams still managed to be blood-curdling despite his grinding grip and, with as many horrors as we see in this line of work, I knew it wasn’t a sound my subconscious would allow me to forget any time soon. 

Steve’s rolled his eyes to the back of his head as hurt washed over him in waves, holding a hand to the bloody hole penetrating the left of his chest like a mirrored pledge of allegiance as he took deep breaths in and out. Prickly tears burned my eyes, but I did my best to fight them off. A torrential downpour wouldn’t help anyone right now. 

“C’mon doll, don’t be so harsh,” he paused to wince and for a split second and I allowed myself to feel the heartbreak of watching him in pain. “You’re still ripping your clothes off for me after all.” I chuckled some of the heaviness out of my chest to alleviate the oppressive weight in between my ribs. 

I didn’t have time for Steve’s jokes, though, I was too busy focusing on keeping him from running out of time, period. I tried to elevate the wounds in an attempt to keep his blood at the mercy of gravity so I hauled Steve up to a sitting position against a tree on the outskirts of the field our jet was set to land in. Now it was just a waiting game. 

I wasn’t sure if the super soldier serum made him at least a little impervious to wounds like this or if Steve was putting on a bit of a show to lessen my worry and even maybe boost his own spirits, but I had a bad feeling it was the latter. “You’re a lot of things,” I told him, hoping it would help to play along as I searched the compartments of his toolbelt for something useful until I found a spool of gauze. “Bulletproof apparently isn’t one of them.” 

Steve laughed from his belly at first, a welcome sound to my ears, until it turned into an affronted cacophony of grumbled curses and sullied coughs. I started wrapping up the rest of his injuries to the best of my ability, but I wasn’t a triage doctor, to say the least. On the bright side, however, I also heard the aircraft that descended before us, whipping about my hair so much I could barely see it until it slowed and Nick Fury stepped out.

I helped Steve stand, wrapping his arm that wasn’t littered with gunshot wounds over my shoulders for support as we walked to the ship. He hissed a breath through his teeth with each step, trying to breathe through the pain and chipping away at my resolve. 

Fury opened his arms to welcome us on board with a snarky quip on the tip of his tongue. Shooting him a look maybe more deadly than the weapon I brandished, I shoved the bag into his chest with enough spiteful vigor for him to know it wasn’t worth it. Nothing could be worth this.I left Steve to be treated by an actual medical professional (and by that I mean some Stark tech that still managed to amaze me) while I cleaned up myself and it seemed he’d be fine. 

I met Steve in the onboard bathroom an hour or so later. His major wounds were patched up, leaving me, a damp washcloth, and a mediocre first-aid kit given our circumstance to finish the job. Nevertheless, Steve still looked a hell of a lot worse than I did, having taken the brunt of every beating, jumping in front of the fist of every bad guy aimed at me so I walked away with little more than a scratch while he sat there looking like he’d been through the wringer.

Steve sat on the sink’s counter and slouched down as far as he could so we were almost eye-level. He’d taken off his suit for the procedure and kept it that way evidently, sitting before me in a red-splattered white tank top. I was patting at his bloody lip with an ice pack in the hopes to lessen the swelling as he said, “Don’t people bond through trauma?” Steve’s words were slurred, but I didn’t know if it was because of blood loss or some kind of treatment from the AI. “Good thing, huh, since the whole being from different centuries tends to complicate things.”

“Being a dumbass doesn’t help,” I chided, maybe applying a little bit too much pressure since I elicited a wince from him, though that could’ve just been from my harsh tone. The time for his wise-cracks was long gone. Sure, I could deal with it as a coping mechanism when we were both worried he was about to drop dead, but right now? When I was turning myself into a pretzel so I could properly clean all his cuts and ice all his bruises without so much as grazing the holes from bullets that went in one end of my boyfriend and out the other? Not the time to be talking about how we’d be better for him almost killing himself.

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together as he jutted out his puffy bottom lip. “What’s wrong wi-“ he started to ask, but the answer was already tumbling out of my mouth.

“It was stupidly impulsive of you to jump in front of me like that. To act so indestructible... it isn’t like you,” I lectured. “Correction, it actually totally is and it’s the most frustrating thing.” I pressed the ice pack to his mouth with maybe a little too much fevered force as I ranted, causing Steve to grunt out of discomfort or protest. I kept ranting anyway. 

“I hate when you do that, you know?” I dropped my hands to my sides, staring at Steve with wide eyes to convey how exactly tired of his shit I was. “When you try to save the day by putting yourself in danger. Giving me a heart attack. Acting all heroic.” I couldn’t stand looking at him anymore as his face shifted from concerned to smug with a supposed understanding so I reached for a q-tip dipped in rubbing alcohol and began scrubbing at the small open cute sprinkling his cheeks like freckles.

Steve winced at the disinfectant’s sting. Usually, he complained about my doting, claiming his enhanced healing would take care of it just fine, but I liked the tenderness of getting to clean him up too much to let him have his way. And, secretly, he did too. “It’s part of the job description, actually...” Steve said under his breath with downcast eyes. He swung his legs a little so his heels bounced off of the sink’s cabinets, acting every bit the chided kid he felt like. 

“And to treat me like some inexperienced lackey incapable of taking care of myself?” I jeered with a scrunched face. Steve had a bad habit of treating me like an endangered civilian on missions. Hell, even if I burn my hand on the stove, you’d think someone just told him World War III was knocking on our front door. 

Don’t get me wrong, Steve always had everyone’s backs. He would lay down on the wire for any one of the Avengers any day of the week, he never wanted to see anyone hurt either. In fact, it’s one of the things I loved most about him. However, there was a line thinner than that wire between keeping each other out of the line of fire and literally jumping in front of it. 

“It’s insulting, to treat me like I’m not half the soldier you are when I’m just as much a part of the team as everyone else. I had the shot until you jumped in front-“

“Well, dammit, so did he!” Steve snapped, slamming his hand against the countertop so hard I could almost swear I heard it crack under the pressure. “And you aren’t just everyone else on the team,” he said, quieter now. It was almost eerie after how loud he’d been only seconds before, going from strained veins in his neck to a soft, glassy look in his baby blues. Without him even saying it, I knew the difference. I love you, his eyes told me. I couldn’t stand to lose you.

“And you’re not some fucking self-sacrificial lamb,” I shot back with angry narrowed eyes. “You’re my whole world,” I insisted, shoving a pointed finger into Steve’s chest just over his heart. “You don’t get to just jump into unfriendly fire in front of me like that.” I could feel the tears I’d been pushing down this whole time rising with a new ferocity, like a current I’d been fighting to swim through for so long my body was about to give out. It became obvious I couldn’t take Steve on, too.

“You don’t get to decide that, love,” he said just above a whisper, though I could hear him clear as day given our proximity. He wrapped his fingers around mine jutting into his pec until I allowed him to hold my hand, probably against my better judgment. “You’re everything that makes mine go ‘round. It’d be over my dead body that I’d stand by and allow someone to hurt you,” Steve vowed with a profound seriousness I didn’t expect, striking me right in the heart so hard it felt like I could count the seconds between when it started to beat again.

“It almost was, Steve. You don’t know how it felt...” I spit out the words which tasted like vinegar, burning my throat like acid. I stopped prodding his scratched cheeks, dropping the q-tip along with my gaze. If I stared at his face, broken from the inside out, I was worried that current would turn into a tsunami. “My stomach dropped so fast it felt like it fell right out of me. How’d you feel if the roles were reversed and I was bleeding out at your feet, huh?” I squeezed his hand, reassuring myself that Steve was still here to hold onto. Thinking about how he almost wasn’t. We came close a lot, in our line of work, but it never got any less terrifying.

Steve let go of my hand to caress my cheek, rubbing his thumb under my eye. I hadn’t realized I was crying until he started wiping away my tears. “Doll, for a few split seconds, when I saw him about to pull the trigger with you in his crosshairs, they were.” He tucked his heel behind my leg and pressed against the back of my thigh, urging me to step closer to him so I did. “That feeling, that heart-wrenching desperation and brain-short circuiting,” he paused, taking a deep breath as he tucked his arms under mine, interlocking his fingers at the small of my back, “That’s why I did it. And I’m willing to bet my shield that if I was in his line of fire, you would’ve done the same.”

I wrapped my arms around Steve’s neck and leaned into him, far too tired of fighting and way too in love with him to stay upset with him when he was right. In a heartbeat, I would save him without even so much as a thought. I’m not a big enough hypocrite to hate Steve for doing the same.

I pressed my cheek to his chest, neither of us caring too much about how the wave of tears I couldn’t keep bottled up behind a dam any longer soaked through his shirt as they spilled out of me. “Still…” I exhaled, relishing in the sound of his beating heart. It was comforting, to have near-tangible proof that he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. “I don’t know what I’d do if…” I failed to finish the sentence, overcome with emotion. I could barely stand to think it, let alone say it out loud.

“I know, love,” Steve paused to press a long kiss on top of my head. “I don’t either.” His hands moved in gentle circles at the base of my back, soothing me as I felt like every other bit of me rattled. He spoke with vulnerability only total honesty could offer. “We don’t have to worry about that now, though. We may not at all. We only ever know we have today and I’ll be damned if we don’t make the most of it. Or if you spend another second of it being mad at me,” he half-joked, causing his chest to rumble with a barely-bitter chuckle.

I pulled far enough away from his embrace to look at him, trying to engrave it on the inside of my brain. The tenderhearted look in his eye, the soft curve of his rosy lips as one side was tugged up a little more than the other, the concerned creases in his forehead, and the blush pink of his cheeks burning through his faintly developing bruises. I watched his eyes flicker from mine to my lips, his long lashes just barely brushing against the swollen apples of his cheeks. 

I leaned in to kiss him, closing the distance slowly until our chests pressed together with every breath before our lips met as if we were each other’s oxygen tanks, unable to survive without one another. Steve gathered my cheeks between his strong hands, fingers just barely grazing my hair. He tucked it behind my ears before tracing his fingers down the curve of my body, stopping once he reached my hips, where he rested. Exactly what we both needed. 

Mine stayed at the nape of his neck, pulling Steve closer to me as if he possibly could be. We parted to breathe, chests heaving unevenly. I pressed my forehead to his, brushing our noses together, as I whispered, “You smell like rubbing alcohol. It’s nauseating.” 

Steve’s chest vibrated with laughter as he rocked my lips again. He dropped his head to the crook of my neck as his chuckle died down. “Your attitude isn’t much better,” he said, looking at my with those baby blues and a spark that melted my heart on contact. “You should be nice to me. I almost died you know?” Steve’s familiar cocky smirk returned as his eyes drifted down again, watching as he tangled our fingers together and undid the knots. 

I rolled my eyes before stealing another quick kiss. As quick as it was, kissing Steve still felt like every bit the Fourth of July fireworks display it had the first time. He was a firecracker through and through, one that wasn’t near ready to fizzle out yet. “Please don’t remind me,” I sighed, taking his hands in mine and holding them tight, not quite ready to let him go anytime soon.

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[angstymarshmallow]

The Wolf’s Heart; part eight - “marked as yours” N*FW (cal lowell x mc)

[a little note: I decided on a name...eight parts in. It’s cliche but honestly, this is all I have lol. AND NOW i HAVE TO UPDATE THEM ALL.Ahhhh This part was a joy and a pain to work on because it’s been awhile since I’ve written anything like this. If you aren’t comfortable with smut, then pass on this because there’s kind of a lot of that going on with how close they’ve grown to each other - even more so than before and I didn’t know if it was rough or enough or. Plus I’m touching on non-canon material that’s kinda influence in the book I’m writing on the side, you’ll see once you start reading. I’m going to stop babbling, I’m just anxiously going to leave this here. I always appreciate feedback and would love to know what people think!]

[words counted: 8210]

[summary: after rescuing Cal, they’ve finally had a moment to themselves for the talk. The Big One to decide whether or not they’ve got a future in NOLA together]

[part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven] 

The rest of New York City feels very far away in comparison to the weight of Cal’s thoughts as he peers at the city’s skyline down below the nearly twenty story building. Technically, he knows it isn’t - he can jump and leap that in a simple bound and then some, but that wouldn’t change anything.

After he’d met and thank the people that helped Wren to rescue him, he’s been trying to come to terms with the past several hours - days. It’s been that long since he’s seen the outside world and although they’ve only been in the hotel for an hour; he’s itching for a run.

He presses his forehead against the cool surface for a moment. He needs to touch something, to convince himself he’s really here –  really alive and not dreaming up this place. He’s still not a hundred percent sure. He rubs his fingers along the glass, making a slight indent into it.

The bloodsuckers reassured him he could spend the night with Wren here; at least giving them some time to re-group, but all Cal can think about is what looms ahead. It’s not over, not in the slightest. Shaw over-played his hand by contacting Kavinsky, but Cal isn’t out of the woods yet. In his heart, he knows it.

It won’t be over as long as Shaw continues to threaten the livelihood of his pack. And he’ll be coming back home with zero solutions to deal with that colossal problem.

Shit.

The scent of her suddenly fills the room and the wolf in Cal snaps at attention at the diversion. Something in his chest twists, as he whirls around to spot Wren by the door, a hand on her hip and a small smile toying at the corner of her lips.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

He shakes his head, a small smile of his own lifting his cheeks as she crosses the room to stand in front of him. “For you? It’s always free.” Taking both her hands into his, he leans forward until he’s able to bump her forehead. “Have I mentioned how happy I am to see you? I almost can’t believe you’re here and not some kind of fever dream.” He squeezes her hands for emphasis and watches as a faint blush splays across her cheeks in response.

“Are you admitting that you actually dream about me?” Her smile transforms into a teasing smirk.

“Guilty as charged.” He pauses for a moment, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. “God, I missed you.” He never thought he’d see her again, and now here she is – standing right in front of him. Does he dare hope? Does he dare believe this really reality?

Her teasing smirk vanishes. Wren presses into him, and those dark eyes of hers’ turn uncharacteristically grows swiftly somber. “I missed you too.”

While remaining eye contact, she drops one of his hands. “You’re never allowed to do that to me again.” As if to drive her point home, she punches him on the shoulder. “I was worried shitless about you.”

“Woah!” He’s more surprised than he is hurt at the gesture and a huge part of him wants to kiss her, but the smarter part of him recognizes the telltale signs of Wren’s temper. His eyes search her face.

“You don’t get to do that to me, not anymore – we’re a team, Cal.” Her mouth snaps shut and then open again as she huffs a breath.

Cal thinks she’s fighting to say more without knowing how to say it. He waits a beat, resting a hand on her arm in support.

“Shit.” She swears again and runs her fingers through her hair. “I need to say this. I need to get this out before I start losing my mind.” She looks completely flustered.

That’s how he knows it’s something important – and the sudden intense look in her eyes definitely confirms that.

Relationship important. And it takes every bit of him not to coddle her to his chest. Every bit of his control not to tell her it’s okay – they don’t have to discuss it now, if she doesn’t want to.

“I love you Cal.” She says the words softly, staring up at him with a look of tenderness strong enough to make it hard for him to swallow. “And when Donny told me you were gone…it was probably one the scariest moments of my life.” She shakes her head, “no I definitely was, because no one at Wolf’s Den knew where you were.” Taking a deep breath, she makes a point of reaching for him as if she still can’t believe it herself that he’s really here either.

“I told myself I’d do anything to have you back, anything to look at you right now and tell you…” she trails off for a moment, her voice trembling with a sudden look of vulnerability in her eyes that makes Cal rest a protective arm around her waist. “And tell you –,” her voice shakes, “how much I love you. And that scares me. It scares the shit out of me, but it scares me more that I almost never got the chance to say it. And I’m not going to keep one foot in the door anymore Cal.”

“What are you saying Wren?” He has to hear her say it. He has to know that there is no going back for her anymore. For either of them. If they’re going to be together again, if she’s going to be apart of his life –

“I want to be your mate. The whole nine yards.” Her voice cracks but she says the words loudly and her eyes never waver from his. “I want to be your only partner – in the pack, in life – in everything. I want it all, but only with you.”

At first, Cal doesn’t speak. He doesn’t think he can. His entire body remains frozen on the spot as he stares down at her completely – loss for words. Slowly, the enormity of her words start to sink in.

“Uh…Cal?” She wets her lips. “You’re staring at me…and not saying anything.”

He’s never really seen her babble before, Wren isn’t the type. But it’s completely cute how she’s shifting on her feet and tugging on her arm as she suddenly starts rambling, Her eyes drift to the side, “– and it’s kinda freaking me out when I’ve just left my heart out here and I –”

Cal lets out a howl of joy, cutting off the rest of her sentence. He scoops her high inside his arms, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Ooof. Down boy!” She fastens her legs around waist and her arms by his neck seconds later. “So, I take it – you’re happy…?”

“Happy?” Happy doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels. He chuckles in disbelief before swooping in to capture her slightly parted lips. And kissing her is like icing on the cake - he pours every ounce of his happiness into his kisses. Every ounce of love he can as their mouths meet, over and over again. “I’m beyond happy.” He murmurs against her lips, his ears perking at the sound of her moan. His tongue dart swiftly out to have a taste of her – sliding between half-parted lips.

When he manages to give them some breathing room, she’s smiling at him and there’s so much love in her eyes – that he doesn’t want to wait a second longer. Why should they after everything they’ve been through?

“I want to, tonight. Make you mine, I mean.” He speaks the words in a heated rush without thinking, gauging her reaction. “In every way possible – I want you to be my mate.”

Her eyes widen a little and for a moment Cal fears the worst. Maybe they need a little more time – he’s already gotten his answer.

But then she nods eagerly; her wavy hair shaking at the vigorous motion. “God Cal, yes. Please.”

“Are you sure?” He wants her to be sure, because once it’s done there’s no going back. At least not for him. When wolves mate – they mated for life.

“Yes, I’m sure. I know this is what I want, what I need.” Wren takes a breath and cups his cheek. “There’s no one else but you Cal, not for me. Not anymore.”

The conviction in her voice makes his heart swell with love and pride, because for him there isn’t anyone else either. Without uttering a response, Cal ambles confidently towards the foot of the bed. With a soft growl, he tosses her playfully onto the silken white sheets.

She lands lightly across it, gazing up at him with a look of unadultered hunger and affection in her eyes that makes his throat go dry.

“Well? What do I have to do?” Her brows wrinkle in that adorable way of hers’ when she’s momentarily confused by something. “Is this going to be….some kind of weird- cult shit?”

Cal barks out a laugh. Shaking his head in amusement, he responds. “No, it isn’t. I mean, it’s still magical but.” He stops for a moment, thinking of how little he knows about it. “I don’t even know if it’ll really work because you’re human.”

“Only half-human.” She reminds him, sitting up.

“Half-human.” He agrees, lifting his lips into a smile at the reminder. “But we’ll take it slow and figure it out together?”

“Mmm,” Wren tilts her head to the side, biting her lips in a way that causes a rush of heat towards his groin.

Fuck, she knows what it does to him when she does that.

“What if I don’t want to take it slow?” She slowly starts unbuttoning her shirt, button after button without taking her eyes off of him. “What if I want it rough and fast?” She shrugs the garment off. “What if I want you to make me beg for it?”

“Are you trying to test me?” Because he’s almost at his limit. Already, he’s able to sense the wolf’s patience waning – shivering in anticipation of claiming her completely. She doesn’t realize yet, but she’s playing a dangerous game.

“Maybe.” She smiles coyly at him. “Is it working?”

He watches her strip-tease with half-hooded eyes.

He’s hooked on where her hands travel; between the valley of her supple breasts, down the length of her abs until disappearing between her shapely thighs - wishing it were his fingers instead that draws a low hum of pleasure from her throat.

Damn, it’s definitely working.

Grinning wolfishly at her, Cal captures one of her ankles and with deliberate slowness, hauls her towards the foot of the bed. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“But I want to hear you say it.” Her eyes challenge him and lips that slightly part invitingly as the bed suddenly dips from the shift of weight.

She doesn’t know what she’s really asking – for him to lose control over the wolf. Even as much as he trusts her, he doesn’t know if he can trust that part of himself not to hurt her, and the last thing he’s ever wanted to do is hurt her.

The room’s been quiet for almost too long.

“I trust you.” She says softly as if reading his thoughts.

Her touch across his cheek settles some of his unease. He nuzzles his face into her palm, inhaling her familiar scent. His pulse skyrockets as she jerks his chin towards her.

“I trust you completely Cal.”

Cal exhales harshly, letting most of his worries drift away from her insistent touch. She trusts him completely. He’s never had anyone trust him like this – not with this part of himself, the part he’s accustomed to having to hide in past relationships. Although she’s come close, more than once this – this is different.

This is giving the wolf complete control. This is letting nature run its course and magic taking the reins of their fate, of their future.

The bed creaks again as Cal presses one knee and then the other on either side of her hips. His left-hand trails across her chest, pausing to run soft circles across nipples.

She sucks in a breath.

Smiling to himself, he drifts his hand a little lower while slowly pushing her back – taking his time to guide her movements, until her naked back lands softly against the silken sheets. His massive frame looms atop her; still hovering and bracing without allowing much of his weight to entrap her completely.

“What are you staring at?” She says after a moment of silence. Her eyes shoot up in question and Cal shakes his head.

“Just admiring how beautiful you are,” his hands frame her face as she breaks out into a smile. God, she’s breathtaking.

“You’re the one to talk.”

When she lifts a hand to tangle in his hair, he stops her. “Mmm.” A low rumble escapes his throat as he grabs her wrist and holds it high within the air. His nails are almost too long to be completely human anymore and they bite into her flesh. “Not tonight, not for this.”

Her eyes light up unexpectedly.

Neither speaks as the bed emits another soft squeak at the shift of weight. Inch by inch disappears between them as Cal lowers himself until his lips skim the base of her neck. “I’m in complete control tonight.”

-

Wren releases another rush of air as she feels Cal’s mouth hovering by one of her most sensitive spots. It takes all her willpower to resist the urge to reach for him, to drag her fingers in his hair and yank him closer. But she has a feeling he won’t let her. Not tonight.

Instead, she fights the temptation with a barely concealed moan and shuts her eyes. She listens to the sound of his breathing, the gentle pressure of his lips as they press a kiss where her pulse flutters in excitement.

Another low rumble fills the air.

His lips travel down the length of her collarbone, its languid pace threatens her heart into palpations as they dip between her breasts and nip her tender flesh.

She shivers.

His sharp teeth graze her nipple – one and then the other, biting gently while her own breathing turns ragged.

“Look at me.”

His voice has always had its edges, raw – honest. Even in its softest moments, there have been parts of it that’s never lost some of what she suspects as the wolf. But hearing him now; there’s almost no hint of that softness left.

When her eyes flutter back open, Wren barely manages to stifle a gasp.

His aren’t their normal colour anymore. They’re a soul-scorching amber glow, the telltale signs of his other half fighting for control.  But he’s not fighting it. He’s letting it happen. And a silent thrill runs through her at the knowledge.

His tongue darts out as he nuzzles the side of his face into her skin. “Mine,” he says the word emphatically, expelling a breath before continuing to lick a path down her body; past her lower abdomen.

And her stomach seizes in anticipation for more.

When his lips find her center, Wren’s back nearly arches off the bed.

“Every part of you is mine.” His hands drop to pull her thighs wider apart from each other. Shooting her a grin, he buries his head in between them and blows a cool breath of air across her clit that causes another shiver to travel along the base of her spine.

“Cal –”

The moment his tongue touches her heat, the rest of her sentence turns into a cry of pleasure.

He isn’t gentle. No. Not this time.

His tongue expertly latches onto her, pushing through tender her folds with a sudden feverous intent that has her fighting to keep still. All she can do is toss her head back and moan as he drives his tongue in and out of her pussy, without pause – without giving her a chance to breathe.

His tongue knows exactly how to drive her wild, how to push her limits of what she can and cannot handle. From its long strokes against her swollen clit, to nipping when she least expects it - it’s almost too intense – too much, to the point where she’s clenching the sheets to keep herself from reaching for him. And when she feels the sharp edge of his teeth placing more pressure on her clit, her mind almost threatens to see stars.

Oh my god.

He’s never been like this before.

Wren sucks in a breath. Her hips shift a little off the bed as he continues his relentless pursuit of her orgasm, sucking her clit – nipping every so often at her most sensitive spot, until finally slipping a finger inside to stretch her.

Oh god.

Wren has to bite down her lip hard as another two digits slip joins in, pushing deeply despite her sudden flinch at their intrusive entrance. With three digits roughly thrusting inside her heat, they spike her heartbeat even higher as the sound of her wet excitement fills the air. Her hands loosen around the sheets. She tries to grip the back of his head, but a moment after touching him – his free hand firmly twists hers’ away and pins it back into place.

He’s going faster now, as if to match the pattern of her own erratic heartbeat still racing inside her chest. His fingers move at a speed so fluid that her legs have started to shake.

“Cal,” she cries out his name as her orgasm hits, like a wave that’s been brewing a storm – it crashes into her with such ferocity that her hips completely leave the bed. She tries to twist away – her sensitivity suddenly too much to keep him between her legs.

But Cal slips his fingers out at the same second and she struggles to move as he laps every bit of her excitement on his tongue. He braces her against the canopy bed to prevent her escape. When he finally pulls back to give her a little breathing room, his amber-coloured eyes watches her in the dim light. “You’re so beautiful.”

Without taking his eyes off her, he sniffs his fingers. “I love your smell.” He takes one finger into his mouth at a time, licking them clean. “Fuck, I love your taste.”

A whimper escapes her throat at the gesture. God, if she didn’t think he could get any hotter before, well – she’s pretty sure she’d combust on the spot any minute now if he stops.

Wren sits up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close enough to taste herself on his lips. She catches his lower lip between her teeth and bites hard enough to draw blood. He moans low in his throat and the sound makes her stomach flip.

Breaking their kiss, Cal rakes his fingers across her naked back.

It stings. His nails are sharp but there’s a lingering pleasure behind the pain.

“Swear it to me.” A single sharpened nail – long enough to prick her chin lifts her chin up. “Swear that you’re mine and no one else’s underneath the stars tonight.”

There’s no hesitation. He has her – soul, mind and body. “I swear I am yours and yours alone.” She gazes up at him, watching the flecks of gold glow brighter than ever before as he dips his head low and emit another growl.

The words feel right, everything feels right.

Except the moment Wren says them, a stinging sensation from where he’s marked her is suddenly all she can feel, all she can think about despite the living and breathing perfect specimen of a man right in front of her. Whatever endearments of love she’s thought of, quickly evaporates from her mind and she reels her head back in surprise. The pain isn’t just a light stab anymore – it’s more of a pulsing feeling that starts from her back where he’s undoubtedly staked her as his claim, until it ebbs deeply within her core.

She struggles to keep her focus on Cal.

What’s going on –

It’s as though he’s burned her, and any minute now she’ll smell the scent of her own flesh igniting itself as she finches back. Her hands move to quickly find the spot – but he’s faster.

-

Cal captures her hands and pulls them to rest against his hard chest as he lets out a hiss of pain. The mark goes both ways. He doesn’t just feel his pain; he feels hers too – down to the very core of his fucking soul.

Shit, does it always hurt this much for everyone?

Still, he can’t show weakness. It’s not what she needs right now. He can’t show a slither of how much it’s destroying him. She needs him, needs reassurance that she’ll be okay, that mating the right way will work. So, Cal doesn’t allow his gaze to waver. He doesn’t scream every curse word he can think of into existence. He merely bites his tongue against the hot flashes of pain still wracking his entire body.

This is what it means to be mated.

He endures the scorching fire within his blood. It’ll be gone soon enough. He only has to wait for it to pass. The wolf yelps but doesn’t falter either.

Minutes passes until he hisses at its impatience.

He wants to claim what’s rightfully his now that they’ve started. And he’ll let the wolf – only after allowing her proper time to adjust to all this. This is after all, new for them both even if his instincts are making it hard to keep his focus.

When his mate finally stops shaking, Cal draws his attention back to her lips; back to the curves of her well-toned body. When she starts trembling again – it isn’t because of pain. No, it’s with a new kind of feeling. Need. Painful need. He can almost taste it; her desire to mate - her sex quivering with the undeniable urge to join him.

It practically has him salivating.

He swallows it back.

“Cal, Cal I need you.” The words seem to tumble out, even surprising her. And her eyes flicker from their usual dark brown to nearly an identical colour.

And holy fuck does he need her. He needs to be inside her so fucking much that there aren’t any words to describe it. He can scarcely even breathe at how irresistible she suddenly seems in front of him – more than she’s ever been before; with her half-bruised lips from their kisses, tousled dark hair around her shoulders and dilated pupils of faint-amber. He’s completely aware of her pheromones warping the atmosphere around them. This is deeper than just lust, and love. It’s like a primal urge just to bend her over and fuck her senseless.

Claim her. Claim her.

Resting his palms on either side of her waist, he yanks her forward until the tip of his cock lightly teases the entrance of her mound.

When she moans, his cock twitches at the sound. “Beg for it.”

“Ah – what?” She pants, eyes clouded.

“Beg.”

He’d have to thank the universe later for the little self-control he’s had left to speak, but for right now – all he can concentrate on is the heat radiating off of her, off of him. And the heady look of lust on his mate’s face. But he’ll wait, he’ll wait as long he has to.

“You’re serious?”

“Beg.” The word comes out as a growl.

“I want you to fuck me Cal.” She drawls out the words, tilting her chin up – meeting his gaze head-on. “I need you to fuck me, so…so fucking bad. Please Cal. Make me yours.”

And it’s all the begging he needs.

Uttering a growl, Cal guides his length inside her - one inch at a time.

At first, Wren can’t speak. She bites down on her lower lip.

A familiar rush of pleasure fills him as her fingernails dig into his broad shoulders. What’s left of his self of control finally snaps as he hikes her legs around his lean waist and increasingly buries more of himself inside her sloppiningly wet heat.

He doesn’t spare more than few seconds for her to adjust once he’s down to the hilt, before he drives his hips forward. The bed creaks loudly at the motion and her own cry of pleasure encourages his burning need to fuck her – to really fuck her.

He recedes out of her slick entrance and then slams into her.

She digs her nails harder into his skin and fingers that have begun to feel more like claws press intimately into his flesh.

It’s enough to draw blood.

He slams into her again. And again. And again. Each time he does, her breath hitches until he can barely hear her over the loud smacking of their bodies - crashing into one another with frenzied urgency.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The word echoes inside his head like an infinite loop that only seems to grow stronger each time he thrusts his entire cock deep within her. It isn’t just about how much he loves her, it’s about the constant need to stretch her as much as he can, to fill her completely with his seed and hear her scream his name to the universe.

His hips jerk with such ferocity that she topples back and he goes with her, pounding with enough roughness for the board to splinter as the headboard clatters heavily against the wall. It doesn’t deter him. His goal is single-minded; solely on making her shatter beneath him and when she thinks she’s had enough – he’d do all over again.

Her own momentum can’t keep up and quite quickly, Cal’s thrust become wild and erratic enough to send Wren over the edge. He feels her inner walls tighten around his shaft and he expels a harsh breath as her entire body convulses all at once.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She continues to let out a string of curses as she throws her head back, eyes stinging with something close to tears as she shudders again.

God, even watching her come apart does something crazy to him. It makes his heart race, makes the wolf inside him puff in satisfaction that he’s able to satisfy his mate so completely. But he’s far from finished, in fact he’s famished for more.  And it isn’t until the tremors stop that he flips her over, guiding her closer to the center of the bed as the wolf snaps his impatience.

She doesn’t need to ask; his desire for her must work both ways too. Something in her body seems to respond automatically to his urges, and she shoots him a mischievous grin over her shoulder, before offering her smooth back to him.

She’s so sexy.

There’s his mark there too. Spirals that twirl together to make an insignia matching the one undoubtedly on his shoulder where’s marked him as her own. He stifles a groan at the sight and nudges her forward with a jerk of his hips, until she’s balanced on all fours. Her palms dig into the sheets, tearing the fabric as he sinks into her again.

Fuck. She’s exquisite. She’s perfect. She’s his.

His thrusts are jerky, uncontrolled. There’s no stopping him, not when he’s so close. He can’t help but be rough, nails raking angry marks across her thighs and hips as he keeps thrusting maddeningly fast into her. Here inside the safety of this room - he’s not just Cal anymore and she’s not just Wren either. This is bigger than the both of them and he surrenders himself to the passion, surrenders himself to the pain.

He presses his chest into her back, inhaling their sweaty mix. More. More.  He’s desperate to find his release – desperate to fill her completely with his come. He nicks the nape of her neck again with his sharpened teeth, biting down hard as she cries out his name.

Her hands grip the headboard as his pacing grows more erratic, more fevered until the bed shakes from the sheer intensity of their fucking. 

Without thinking, one of his hands finds the supple arch of her throat. He can almost hear it. Her pulse flutter in excitement when his grip tightens. He feels the exact moment when she let’s go. Her body convulses into intense shudders that fuels his orgasm. Uttering a string of curses as burrows his face into the crook of her neck as his body starts to shake, emptying himself inside her until he’s completely spent.

When he’s finally able to move again, Cal rolls over and takes her with him. She tucks herself at his side as he stares happily at the ceiling.

God, that was…..there’s really no way he can describe it

He listens to the sound of their heartbeats. They’re both still keyed to speak.

Woah. Is it like this for everyone?

“Wow.” Wren breaks the silence first, grinning up at him. There are flashes of exhaustion within her eyes when he peers at her. He’s worried he’s broken her for a moment until she threads her fingers through his chest hair and lets out a contented sigh.

“I know.” He blows stray strands of his now matted and wet hair away from his face, before staring back down at her. She’s never looked quite so messy and tired before. He likes the look on her.

“You were really holding out on me, huh?” She has the galls to arch her eyebrows at him and he laughs at the gesture.

“Maybe.” He tries to play it off, but his cheeks give him away. They always do. “I just…I never wanted to risk hurting you.” He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing bashfully at anywhere except directly at her.

“Uh huh. I’m not so breakable Cal.” He feels her fingers, still coated with sweat turn his chin. “But if you weren’t convinced before, maybe this will convince you now.” She presses a soft kiss to his jaw.

There’s still a faint amber-light to her eyes when she pulls back, and seeing it makes him so damn happy. He breaks out into a wide grin. “No, I can be as rough as I want now.” His words drop an octave, husky enough for her eyes to slide meaningfully down his hip.

Wren whistles. “God, I really thought you had stamina before but now.” She traces hand across his naked hip and the touch makes the tip of his shaft twitch. “Now, I definitely know what stamina is, I still feel like I could maybe go for another round or two.”

A low rumble escapes his throat. “I can’t help it. It’s what you do to me, and it’s the wolf that’s never truly sated.” He captures her hand and kisses her wrist before giving it a gentle squeeze. “But that can wait. When’s the last time you slept?”

Wren avoids his eyes. “Maybe a day or two.” She winces. “To be fair though, I was trying to find you.”

“I’m not going to argue with that. I just want you to take care of yourself, and I’m honestly beat.” He exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a moment and then stares back up at the ceiling. In all his wildest dreams – he didn’t think today would have ended the way it did and he flinches at the memory of being trapped.

If it wasn’t for her – he didn’t think he would have survived.

Wren scoots closer. Her warmth is a welcoming presence that breaks the prison of memories still flooding the gates of his mind. “I’m really glad you’re all in one piece, I can only imagine what that asshole put you through.”

Cal is hyperaware of her uncertainty. Even if she doesn’t ask – he can still feel it. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? And maybe one day, he will. However, for now – he’s perfectly fine with shoving the memories as far back as he can keep them. He won’t let them ruin everything tonight.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dropping a kiss by her brow, he sighs. “I’m here – you’re here, that’s what matters.”

“Mm.”

“Is that you letting this go without me having to ask?” He almost has to do a double-take.

“Hey! I let things go sometimes!”

He snorts.

“Okay – well,” she huffs out a breath. “Stubbornness runs in my blood but I’m not stupid enough not to see you’ve been through a lot.” She hesitates. “I can feel it radiating off of you in waves, and we don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready.”

“Good.” He sighs in relief. God, he loves her for it. “I love you,” he whispers, shutting his eyes close.

“I love you too.” He feels her sharp teeth graze his side, “now shut up and let us get some sleep.”

-

Everything hurts.

Her arms, her legs – every part of her body seems to be completely worn out as the events of last night comes rushing back to her- as vivid as if she’s still there herself. The fight with Kavinsky. Finding Cal. Mating. Her cheeks colour at the latest memory. Last night had been intense, however it doesn’t take long for her mind to switch gears.

There’s too much going on at one time for it not to.

Even worse, Wren’s entire body aches as if she’s been hit by a truck and suffering the worst parts of a hungover because of it. The slightest flicker of movements she takes to sit up in bed causes an after-effect and she flinches at the stabs of pain. There’s no getting rid of it.

It isn’t the room. The room is blissfully quiet. It’s everything outside the room. Her hearing is better than it’s ever been before; picking up things she didn’t think possible. The whispers out in the hall from the people she’s only just met, suddenly sounds more like shouting.

“Do you think they’re going to get up anytime soon?” Harlow’s voice sounds filled of concern.

A snort sounding as if it belongs to Lily. “After hearing them last night – not likely.”

“Man. They were so loud.”

“You’re the one to talk Jax. You and Harlow have been waay louder in the past –”

Hissing, Wren clutches her temples as she tries to drone them out – desperate for silence. It’s no use. She can’t drone them out. They’re all she can focus on.

Shit.

Her eyes prick with tears as she takes a deep breath; her nose abruptly picking up the musky scents of sweat and sex mingled all into one. She realizes with a jolt – her senses haven’t just gotten better – they’re damned-well oversensitive to her current environment. And she hates it.

Crying out in pain, Wren rocks back and forth until strong arms suddenly encircle her. She’s cocooned into his hard chest and more aware than ever of his body heat, pressing intimately into her as she feels his breath by her ear.

“Sssh, it’s okay. Just focus on me. Focus on my voice.” His voice which by the way – sounded incredibly smooth. “Tune everything else out.”

Taking a ragged breath, Wren tries to concentrate on Cal and Cal alone.

Minutes pass as they remained locked like this; with Cal humming into her ear and Wren trying desperately to keep her attention solely on him. It’s difficult. She’s never had to fight quite like this to remain focus before, but eventually the voices in the hall become a dull ache that’s moved to the back of her brain.

Oh, thank god.

Twisting inside Cal’s arms, she gives him a smile short of nothing but her relief. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“I think I do,” his frown creases his brow as he lifts his fingers to rub her temples. “I was a pup once.”

The gesture helps to soothe her and she releases another sigh, leaning into his hands. “Please tell me this gets better, or at least easier.” Letting out a string of curses, she closes his eyes and forces her attention on his breathing.

He laughs.

She winces.

“Sorry.” At least he sounds apologetic about it. “It doesn’t; you’ll just be able to handle it better. You’ll adjust your attention on the things you want to focus on.” He smiles a little to himself, “but this is kinda cute in a way.”

She shoots him a glare that would make lesser men flinch and scramble to get away. But to Cal, it only serves to make his smile grow wider. “How the hell is any of this cute?”

“You just –” he shakes his head, “kinda remind me of Donny when he was a pup. He was pretty much oversensitive to almost everything for a while when he hit fourteen.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”  She grumbles. Besides, Donny was a child when he’d reach peak werewolf physiology – she’s a grown ass woman, and all she wants to do is curl into a ball and disappear underneath all these sheets.

He drops his fingers and plants a kiss by her temple. “It wasn’t supposed to.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I thought Donny was the worst.” He quips back.

“No, he comes a close second now…” She hesitates, expelling a short sigh as her eyes flutter back open to stare at him. “He misses you too.”

Cal’s jaw tightens. “I can’t believe I left him alone like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She interjects before he’s able to place anymore blame on himself. She knows how easy it is for him to spiral when it comes to Donny. Mumbling softly, she bumps his forehead in comfort. “You didn’t know any of this was going to happen.”

“Still, I was careless.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If I hadn’t come to New York alone – .”

“But you did. You were cocky and dumb enough to think Kavinsky hadn’t told Shaw.” She isn’t going to sugarcoat the mess they’re in to make him feel better. They always tell each other the hard-truths, and the hard-truth is – Cal fucked up and things could have gone a lot worse if they hadn’t found him. But, she doesn’t want to focus on that. They’re here, they’re together - that’s what matters. 

“And whatever comes next, I’m with you.” She tries to make a joke, “for a better or worse right?”

When Cal suddenly pulls away, Wren eyes narrow into almost slits.

He looks…guilty. She can almost feel it, it’s starting to practically envelop the room. “Hey,” she turns completely, ignoring the twinges of pain from the sudden motion of her legs shifting to rest on either sides of his waist. “I wanted this, and you have nothing to feel guilty about.” She bumps his forehead affectionately; the way he does to get her attention. “I love you, and I’m sure…it’ll get better.” She gives him a smile, “it’s like you said – it takes time.”

Cal watches her a moment longer before expelling a deep sigh.

“C’mon, you’re pulling down the mood.”

“Oh?” The corner of his lips twitch as Wren rakes him with a once over – lingering on the lower half of his body, before slowly trailing up again. “And what exactly is the mood?”

“The mood is - I’m very aware of what’s going on down here. Right now.” She nudges her hips forward by an inch as she says it. It’s enough to brush the tip of his cock and almost reflexively, he lets out a loud hiss.

Grinning, Wren does it again – only this time, his hands come up to splay across her back. She can almost taste his desire on her tongue the moment she leans forward and captures his lips. It’s so potent that it fills the room. She isn’t having any troubling focusing on him anymore – he’s all she can think about.

Wren bites down hard and she’s rewarded with a growl as his fingers rake a path down her back “And I for one, want to take full advantage of this.” Her stomach is already curling in anticipation for him as he kisses her roughly on the lips.

His chocolate brown eyes flash with sudden heat just as the palm of her hand pushes him back. She shifts her position to straddle him as he lands comfortably atop of their sheets.

“You know we’ll have to leave this room eventually.” His hands drift towards her hips, staring momentarily down at the marks he’s left from last night.

She sneaks a glance at them as well, and then back up at him as she slowly lowers herself onto his throbbing member. “Maybe, but for now - I’m suddenly feeling ravenous.”

He shifts hips hip with enough subtle force for her to moan at the sudden friction.

God, how is it that he feels so good? So right. Everything always does with him and it’s a wonder it’s taken her this long to realize he’s the only person that belongs in her heart. The only person that has her completely.

She entwines their fingers together as she begins to move her hips forward back and in earnest, dictating their space to a much slower rhythm than last night. All her senses are very aware of all of him, the way his muscles tense and bunch together, the way his eyes can’t seem to take themselves off of her – down to the slight intakes of breath he takes as his eyes transition into that scorching hot amber.

When he tries to move his hips faster, her fingers dig into his palms. “Let me.” Her words are husky, but Cal wordlessly arches a brow before he slows down and Wren hides her grin. He’s giving her complete control of their pleasure.

She rolls her hips – remaining steady eye contact with Cal as his gaze turns smoldering.

“Fuck, you’re killing me here Wren.” He drops her hands to grip her waist.

“Good.” She can feel his impatience budding again, the wolf in her is basking in every minute of it. But he hasn’t tried anything again yet. Smirking, she rolls her hip again – biting down on her lip to stop herself from moaning at how good he feels.

Cal swears, his nails turning sharp as they dig into her sides. His breath is almost ragged, and his cheeks are heavily flushed when she finally starts to pick up speed. “Oh god, you feel so fucking good.” The rest of his words turns into a cry of pleasure when she squeezes herself around his length.

“Mm, you like that?’

His response is in the way he thrusts his hips to meet hers’ – with wild abandon, and suddenly her little game of keeping control is forgotten.

Her hips match him pace for pace and it doesn’t take much longer for the bed to start creaking again.

His hands grip her tighter as she brings her hips up and then down on him again, keeping a loose hand clenched around the bed sheets for gripping as their pleasure comes altogether. And the passion that builds between them is bigger than just her - it’s hers and his blissfully jumbled into one.

She can’t think, she can’t breathe. There’s only just the primal urge to keep up with his thrusts, to reach the peak of how much she ca handle and a natural surrender of all her inhibitions as their gazes stay completely on each other.

When they scale to the very top, they ride it out going down to the bottom together. Collapsing into each other’s arms, endearments of I-love-yous as they tumble into the sheets, yanking them around each other like a cocoon as their bodies still slicked with heat and love bask in the aftermath of their love.

-

By the time they’ve left their room, it’s shy past five in the afternoon.

Maybe if Wren hadn’t just the best morning in her life, she’d care a lot more. But right now, the only concern Wren has is how much she wants to stuff her face with any food they can find as she leads Cal towards the kitchen of the hotel room.

They both freeze just in time to notice their other companions clearing out. There’s a bunch of small suitcases by the door and they’re all dressed in fresh clothes of slacks and shirts - smelling distinctively of vanilla bodywash.

Six pairs of eyes remain rooted to their spot.

At first – no one says anything. It’s quiet enough for a pin to comically drop.

Wren jerks her chin up, daring anyone to say anything.

Lily is the first to break the awkward silence, furrowing her brows before letting out an expletive. “Shit, it’s about damn time. We were starting to think you two were never going to leave.” She places a hand on her hip. “Check out time was like three hours ago.”

Cal clears his throat; his cheeks abruptly turning more than a shade darker thank his skin as Wren mutters a stiff apology. Okay, so she definitely gets where they’re coming from. Not only did they miss out on karaoke – they’ve been pretty MIA in general and this morning - that’s mostly been her fault. “Sorry guys, we’ll uh – pay the difference.”

“It’s fine, Adrian has already taken care of it.” Harlow responds quickly, elbowing Lily sharply in the side. “What I think my friend meant to say is, we thought we wouldn’t get the chance to say goodbye.” She smiles, “it was a pleasure meeting you both despite the circumstances.”

Wren takes a few hesitant footsteps further into the common area, almost dragging Cal behind her. “I think that’s supposed to be my line. Seriously – thank you for all your help, and for putting up with us last night.” She adds before thinking better of it, “I would have probably still been searching the rest of New York for him.”

“Thank you for rescuing me.” Cal squeezes Wren’s hand as he regards the vampires with a slight nod.

Adrian inclines his head. “You’re quite welcome.” He reaches for the door and then pauses to peer back at them. “Would you mind passing down a message to Nik –” he gestures to them both with a flick of wrist, “tell him we’re even.”

“You bet.”

“Good. Well, I believe we’ve all gotten what we came here for.” Kamilah wastes no time to say goodbye; already stepping past the threshold of the door to find the elevator.

“Hey bloodsuckers,” Cal speaks up before they can all leave. Wren arches one critical eyebrow and he bites his bottom lip before adding. “Uh - if you’re ever in NOLA – look us up. You think it’s crazy over here? This has got nothin’ on us.”

Wren snorts in agreement. They’ve got no idea just how crazy it is up there.

Harlow and Jax share a look. “We’ll keep that in mind. Don’t forget to lock up before heading to the lobby.” With a parting smile, Harlow follows the rest of them out.

As the door slams shut again, Wren waits a few beats for their footsteps to fade before turning to Cal. “I like them.”

“I guess they’re alright, for bloodsuckers at least.”

She smacks his shoulder.

“Ah!” Chuckling, he snatches her hand before she’s able to punch him a second time and kisses the inside of her wrist. “I’m kidding, they’re alright – for anyone.”

“Good.” A crooked smile flits across her face, then falters into a frown as her stomach growls. “Okay, seriously – I’m really starving. What is up with that?”

He shoots her a bemused smile. “We did burn a lot of calories in that room.”

Another playful smack on his shoulder.

“But it’s also a wolf thing.”

“Ugh, figures.” Rolling her eyes, she snorts. “We should check-out and grab something on the way to the airport then. Ooh,” her eyes abruptly lit-up at a sudden idea. “Maybe this room came with a complimentary breakfast. Adrian seems like the type.”

-

The ride back to the airport is short but Cal feels tense about it the entire drive. Now that he’s going back without a plan, the enormity of what’s awaiting him in NOLA rests uneasily on his shoulders.

After Wren fills him in on how much he’s missed – he’s honestly just a bunch of knots and for the first time since becoming alpha; he doesn’t know where he stands with his pack. It was reckless for him to leave and foolish too. Wren’s been right to mock his choice.

Sighing, he closes his eyes for a moment and rakes his fingers through his hair. What the hell is he supposed to do now?

“Hey,” he hears the reassurance in her voice before he opens them back to shift his attention to her.

“I won’t lie to you and say it’ll be okay, because when I left – it wasn’t okay.” Wren takes a deep breath, reaching for his hand to give it a comforting squeeze. “But I’m here for you – and,” she visibly swallows, “for the pack. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

Cal nods once, forcing a smile as he squeezes her hand back. “I hope you’re right.” He has a feeling if he doesn’t find a solution, soon there won’t be any pack left to protect.

-

[efemerald]

B13 plsss

B13. “Here’s my number!”

Three more months. Three more months until they graduate and go their separate ways. Three more months, and Bakugou will be living 300 miles away.

Kirishima tried his best to shove those thoughts aside – to tuck them away into some lost corner of his mind, where they couldn’t bother him anymore – but to no luck; they sprung back each time, harder and with a greater intensity.

No more morning runs, or daytime spars, or late nights in the library. No more sitting in the cafe after school, sneaking glances when Bakugou wasn’t looking; no more accidental touches as they reached for the same pen, or thighs brushing beneath the table when they sat too tightly together. No more long tirades about how much Deku sucked, or brash encouragement when Kirishima felt tired. The thought made his heart sink. Bakugou, whether he wanted to admit it or not, had been his anchor these past three years – he’d been the pillar of support Kirishima needed so desperately during those embarrassing moments of insecurity, and the home to come back to after a long mission. He’d been his rock. And, maybe, Kirishima had been his.

But none of that mattered anymore. Soon, ‘their’ booth in the library would be taken up by some other pair of first years, and it would cease to be ‘theirs’ anymore. The librarians would be grateful to be rid of those noisy troublemakers, he thought. But then, after a year or two, they’ll forget those noisy troublemakers ever existed in the first place. They’ll be practically erased from school memory. In a couple of years, there’ll be an entire generation who’d never heard frightening tales of the hot headed senior, the Bakugou Katsuki, nor fear bumping into him in the hallways.

Worse still, Kirishima knew, is that they’ll begin to forget each other too. Blonde hair, crimson eyes, the smell of caramel skin – sooner or later, these things will fade from his memory. That endearing little scowl twitching on his lips whenever he got frustrated; the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed; the soft smile he wore when they were alone, and he allowed himself to be vulnerable: even if he tried as hard as he could, there will come a day when Kirishima struggles to paint these pictures in his head. Everything he knows so well, down to the finest detail, will become blurry and vague.

And Bakugou? Bakugou, who hated feeling weak, who’d never wanted friends in the first place – he’d forget all about Kirishima as soon as he could. Besides, the constant demand of hero work was bound to replace all thought of UA. Kirishima would become an abstract specter in his mind; just another High School friend you might think to call once or twice a year, but inevitably forgot about by the time you reached home.

Suddenly, his stomach felt queasy. He’d broken out in sweat without realizing, and the room, though stuffy with early Summer heat, suddenly felt too cold. His chest was seized with a flash of anxiety, and he was filled with the sudden need to go and see Bakugou. It felt like if he didn’t go and find him right away, didn’t see him face-to-face, the other boy would fade into nothing but a fever dream.

Swinging his legs out of bed, Kirishima thrust himself onto the floor of his room and bolted upright. In this state of panicked delirium, he just about sprinted to his door, threw it open, and – Bakugou was already there.

The blonde stood stiffly outside, hand raised to knock. Kirishima stared at him; he stared right back.

“I was just about to find you.”

“I needed to see you.”

They both spoke at once. Consequently, their faces flushed an equal shade of red.

“I, uh,” Bakugou cleared his throat. Then, he spluttered out, “Here’s my number.” He thrust a strip of paper into Kirishima’s hand.

Kirishima looked down at it. The gears in his head turned slowly, and he examined the paper with sleepy confusion. “But I already have your number? It’s in the class chat.”

“That’s my extra number,” he drawled, as if it was obvious.

“You have two numbers?”

“Duh. One’s for shitty extras, like our class, and the other is for… family, and stuff.” His cheeks dusted pink. “For people close to me.”

“Oh.”

“I, uh, I use it more often than the other one. I figure you can use it to contact me after we leave. I mean, if you want to stay in touch, or whatever.” The end of his sentence trailed off into a mumble, and he glanced down at his feet.

The full weight of what he said took its time processing in Kirishima’s head. When it did, however, he felt like a sudden weight had been lifted from his chest. His heart soared with gladness. Beaming, he tried to keep the excitement out of his voice when he replied. “Yeah! Of course, bro. I’ll text you every single day, it’ll annoy the hell out of you.”

Bakugou made a grunt of annoyance, but there was no real bite to it. When Kirishima looked up at him, his face was glowing with a faint smile. Easy to miss, if you didn’t know him well enough. If you didn’t know him like Kirishima knew him.

And, he was beginning to suspect, would always know him.

Maybe, if Bakugou wanted this just as much – he dared to let himself hope – then this wouldn’t be a final goodbye after all.

“Hey, Hair for Brains, are you there?” Bakugou’s usual gruffness was back in full force, and he snapped his fingers by Kirishima’s eyes. “You’re zoning out on me. What’s wrong?”

Kirishima startled, and he laughed. “Nothing, Blasty.” He pocketed the number. “Wanna go play video games?”

Bakugou eyed the clock; it was 11pm, 3 hours past his bedtime.

But then, he figured, there were only so many more chances to do this before they graduated. And whether he admitted it or not, he wanted – no, needed – to make the most of this time with his best friend.

Rolling his eyes, he pushed past the redhead and into the bedroom. “Obviously. I’m gonna kick your ass, Shitty Hair.”

Send me a prompt!

[blackcoffeeandteardrops]

Brave Face (2/2)

That’s right, nerds. I elected to follow my heart (and also peer pressure) and write a follow up to a recent post Endgame fic. Essentially, Tony is alive via a workaround and they begin to cope with that. Below the cut & on AO3:

A day passes, and then another. For the most part, everyone leaves them alone, as if an invisible layer stands between them and the outside world. Pepper's not stupid, she knows there's an army of reporters, salivating for that first shot of them in this new world, this new reality they've been thrust into. Happy visits, telling her there's been a billboard put up in Times Square, some sort of thank you, not that Tony's alive anymore to see it. She smiles politely, tossing away the remnants of their dinner, & shuffles him out the door. They'll be fine, she and Morgan. They have to be.

Truthfully, it's Morgan that's keeping her going. It's Morgan that wakes her up with pleas for waffles for breakfast or pizza for dinner, asking to eat on the couch and watch movies, even though they have rules about eating at the table. Pepper almost thinks her little girl is milking it, seeing how much she can get away with, but then she watches as Morgan's gaze drifts over to the corner where they've carefully tucked Tony's helmet away, and her heart lurches in her chest. Milking it or not, there's no way she's letting Morgan go without. Eventually, their routine will have to return to some semblance of normal, whatever that might look like. When Pepper goes to bed that night, watching as Morgan sleeps soundly at her side, she's not even sure what normal means anymore.

They're in the front yard the next morning when it happens. A feeling of cabin fever had settled over them both, and so Pepper suggests they play outside. Morgan's content for a while, first kicking a ball back and forth and then trying to jump and catch bubbles as Pepper blows them, but then something behind Pepper catches Morgan’s eye. She stops, mid step with eyes widened, and her mouth drops open like a fish.

Fear claws its way up Pepper's throat and she spins, afraid to see what's behind her, wholly unprepared for what she sees. "Tony? I…" she pauses, and this time she's the one whose mouth hangs agape. He smiles, eyes watery, and it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, but when Morgan starts to run towards him, she holds an arm out, forcing her to stop. "Morgan, honey, remember what I said about being safe?"

"Yeah, but that was about strangers. Daddy's not a stranger," Morgan replies, as if it couldn't be anymore obvious. Still, she clings tightly to Pepper's side, like she can't quite believe it herself.

"I probably should've called. Maybe warned you. But it's important for you to know that I came as soon as I could," Tony says, intending it as an explanation, though he knows full well she'll want more than that.

Pepper shifts her focus between Tony and Morgan, pretending she can't feel her pulse hammering in her throat. Before she lets Morgan anywhere near him, she needs to be sure. She leans down, eyes at her daughter's level, and points in the direction of her makeshift tent. "Can you give me and your father just a minute? I need--" she stops, blinking back hot tears as she glances back at him, still not certain he's real. "We need to make sure he's okay first. Alright?"

Morgan nods, lip pulled between her teeth, before running off and doing as asked.

"Pepper--" Tony says, cautiously taking a step closer, stopping when he sees her launch an arm out and watching in awe as the armor he'd crafted for her what feels like a lifetime before latches itself onto her outstretched limb. "It takes a titan threatening to destroy life on this planet as we know it for you to like a present I make you, hmm?"

Pepper shakes her head, her chest growing tight as she slowly takes a step back from him. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I suppose I should've expected that," Tony replies with a sigh. "It turns out Rogers is good for something. He found me, an older version of himself anyhow, about two weeks ago. At least that's when I think it was. Time, it's a little--" he holds his hand out, wobbling it for effect. "He had something he called a Pym particle. He gave me a suit, and he told me what to do. And he told me what would happen if I didn't. Look, I know it sounds crazy," he continues, stepping so close her outstretched hand nearly brushes his chest, risking potentially getting blasted by her to make his point clear. "It's me. I swear."

"I watched you die, Tony. I watched as the life faded from your eyes and as the arc reactor light went out, so do not toy with me. I swear to you, if this isn't real? If this is some kind of...game, or…" Pepper stops, her voice trembling. In the periphery, she sees Morgan poking her head out from the tent.

Tony notices, too. He points, waving a little when Morgan looks at him. He pretends it doesn't hurt when she quickly ducks back inside the tent, apparently spooked. "We were in the park jogging. I told you I had a dream that we had a kid, that it seemed so real. Not long after, Stephen Strange appeared and said he needed my help. It was the last time I saw you until after I came back from space. A few weeks later, you'd told me my dream was right. Only, as it turns out, it wasn't a boy. It was a girl. Our little girl," he says, eyes welling with tears. He gestured to the tent, tightening his jaw, desperate to reassure her. "Ask me anything. I'm serious. We named her after your uncle, even though you thought maybe it was weird. You're allergic to strawberries, but somehow she's not, and so you risk anaphylactic shock to give her the birthday cake that happens to be her favorite. I...I once have you a giant bunny, and--"

Pepper lowers her arm, the armor clanking to the ground below them as she rushes to him, enveloping him in a hug, clinging as tight as she possibly can. "Tell me this is real, Tony," she whispers, tears soaking through to his skin.

"It's real," he replies, hands running down her back, touching as much of her as he can. “Hey, Pep,” he continues, his voice hoarse. His legs are like jello, but he makes himself wrap his arms around her, tethering her to him like a vice grip. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. Not now,” Pepper replies, pulling back just enough to get a look at his face. She traces a thumb across his face, trying to make sense of being able to touch him at all. “You’re okay?”

He winces, the adrenaline rolling off of him in waves. “Debatable,” he replies with a shrug. “But the rumors of my death have once again been greatly exaggerated. In a manner of speaking.”

“That’s not funny,” she warns him, though she can’t help the smile that quickly spreads on her lips. “I’m still not sure I understand. But you’re here, and that’s what matters.”

“I’ll explain as best I can. But, uh, can I--” he clears his throat, cocking his head in the direction of Morgan’s tent. As much as he wants to spend his time back--it still sounds strange to him to say that, his mind hasn’t entirely wrapped around the idea--with Pepper, he’s also eager to see his little girl. He kneels in front of the tent, waiting patiently. “Morguna,” he calls, waiting patiently. To him, it’s been a matter of hours since he’s seen her, but for her it’s been days. Days no doubt filled with a sadness and confusion no child her age should ever have to experience. He knew she’d be confused, but he wanted to try his best and do things at the pace she was comfortable. “Well, it’s a shame...I guess I’ll have to eat the juice pops that I’m sure are in the freezer all by myself.”

“You can’t do that,” Morgan replies, rushing out. “You’ll get a tummy ache.”

Tony tries not to laugh at the serious expression on her face. “How about a hug and then we can go share some then, hmm?”

They go inside, sharing the juice pops and talking about what it’s been like, the world’s population being returned to what it was before the snap. Pepper freezes, gripping the back of the couch for support. “Will you...will it affect--” she stops, shaking her head. Having him back is everything she’s ever wanted, but she hasn’t had the chance to consider if there might be some kind of ripple effect as a result of their playing with fate.

“No, it won’t,” he replies. They settle into their day, tip toeing around more serious conversation, not because it doesn’t need to happen, but because Morgan is there and there’s only so much of it that she can understand. Once she’s safely tucked in and has been read at least half a dozen stories, she dozes off, and Tony returns to the living room watching as Pepper pretends to read. He nudges the book, waiting until she sets it aside to speak. “You really are okay, right?”

“I mean, it’s not every day that my husband comes back from the dead or time travels from a time when he wasn’t to rectify his death, but that’s kind of par for the course with you, isn’t it?” she says, cocking her head to the side. She laces her fingers through his and pulls his hand into her lap, afraid to ask the question that’s been on her mind from the moment she saw him. “Tony, how long is this going to last? The particle that Steve gave you, it allowed you to travel here, but for how long?”

“It’s for good. I’m here for the long haul, Potts,” he says, knocking on his head, as if she needed more proof he was physically there. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“That’s definitely fine by me,” Pepper replies, kissing him like it’s one of the most important things she’s ever done. When their lips part, she rests her forehead against his, desperate to keep touching him for as long as possible. She sniffs, blinking back tears, wanting so badly to get used to it after the days she’d spent without his warmth next to her.

“I can feel you thinking,” Tony says, pulling back from her enough to catch her gaze. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking that as nice as this is, we’re probably going to have to tell people eventually. Or risk Morgan accidentally doing that for us,” Pepper replies with a shrug.

Tony nods, knowing she’s right. “Not everybody, not yet,” he says, eager to keep the world at bay. “Peter, Rhodey, and Happy. We’ll call them here in the morning. Everyone else can wait.”

“You’re sure you don’t want them to find out tonight? You know they’d love to see you. You’d have to explain, but--”

He lightly presses a finger to her lips, resolutely shaking his head. “They’ll have a million questions, I’ll have to explain everything. And I will. But tonight is just for us.”

“I can live with that,” Pepper replies, tugging on his hand and urging him to stand up.

Tony obliges, following her lead to their room. Walking through their home shouldn’t feel strange, and it doesn’t, not entirely. Still, he can only imagine the hell she’s gone through, thinking him dead. There’s a part of him that is sad he doesn’t have the memory of seeing her fly into fight Thanos in her armor, but he wouldn’t trade laying next to her in their bed with Morgan sleeping soundly down the hall for anything else in the world. He loops an arm around her waist, pulling her close, watching as she closes her eyes in contentment, only to open them a moment later. “I told you, Pep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Pepper replies, reaching a fingertip out and ghosting it across his brow. She bites back tears and breathes in deep, trying not to think of the version of him she watched die after defeating Thanos. This is her Tony, living and breathing and warm. She’s not sure her brain has fully wrapped around the fact time travel is real in the first place, let alone how it played a role in bringing the love of her life back to her, but she’s not going to second guess the gift they’ve been given. She presses her lips to his, slowly at first and then increasingly more desperate, hungry to remain in contact with him as long as she can. “I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and discover this has all been a dream, right?”

“Not a chance,” Tony replies, shaking his head. He shifts, sensing a lump against the mattress, and reaches underneath the blanket to retrieve a stuffed bear. He laughs, but it’s with a tightness in his chest. Of course Morgan had been there to keep Pepper company. “Shall we take bets as to whether or not she’ll worm her way into our bed tonight?”

“I’m almost surprised she’s not in here yet,” Pepper replies, burrowing further into her pillow. As much as she wants to keep looking at him, sleep threatens to overpower her. The faces of their friends filter through her mind, the ones who’d helped shoulder her grief when she’d believed Tony was lost to them, and she knows they deserve to know that he’s found his way back to them, safe and sound. Still, a selfish need begs her to keep everyone else, even those friends they hold dear, away, keeping him to herself for as long as she can. Surely, she thinks, she’s owed at least that. “We’ll tell them tomorrow?” she asks, her hand snaking out to find his, intent on linking them together, even during sleep.

Tony nods, resolute. He’d watched as Peter disintegrated into ash right before his eyes, so he was ready to wrap his arms around the kid again. He was. Still, he gave Pepper’s hand a squeeze, watching as sleep began to claim her, waiting for it to take him as well. Before long, he was sure Morgan would insist on joining them, eager for more time with him. He missed the kid, missed the others, but he knew that for now they could wait. “Yeah,” he says, pushing the hair from Pepper’s face. “Tomorrow.”

[cuddlepilefics]

Hii I really like your fics so I have another request.. A fic where Hyunjin is sick with a stomach bug (emeto) but he's alone at the dorms then he gets really sick and calls Changbin for help

Thank you

A hyung to help

 Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregiver: Changbin

 Noone’s POV.:

Hyunjin had been tasked with creating the entire choreography for one of their main tracks on the upcoming album. He felt honored because that was usually a task for his hyung Minho, so to prove his capability, the dancer vowed to himself to put in at least twice the effort. Knowing his determined side, it came as a surprise to no one when the dancer holed himself up in the practice room, barely replying to anyone’s texts and coming home late at night. Although Hyunjin got scolded by Chan multiple times, the leader couldn’t do much about it because his own behavior wasn’t any better. This was probably the only aspect in which he was a terrible role model. The entire group watched on with a frown, quietly observing how their friend run himself into the group.

The previous night, Hyunjin and Chan had coincidentally come back home at the exact same time, running into each other. “Jinnie, I thought I told you not to overdo it?” – “You did but you’re here at the exact same time that I am. Anyways, I just wanted to finish this up quickly. I’m done now and I’ll send you the video in the morning so you can judge”, the dancer yawned, dropping his practice bag in the hallway. They said goodnight and went to bed, not even showering but Hyunjin at least forced himself into a fresh shirt before falling into bed. He was out like a light even before his head hit the pillow, sleeping like dead. Waking him the next morning was a whole new level of difficult and it took everything out of his roommates to get as much as a hum and shrug out of him. Minho, who hadn’t had his morning coffee yet, felt his mood drop by the minute and at some point, just gave up, leaving Seungmin to drag the other’s lazy ass out of bed. The vocalist was a bit more patient with his hyung and gently pealed the blanket back before shaking the dancer’s shoulders again. “Come on, Jinnie-hyung. Everyone else is already up, we’ll be late. Plus, Minho is already pissed”, the second youngest of the group pleaded. His voice was at a normal volume, causing the other to whimper: “Stop, please. It – it hurts so bad.” – “Hyung, what hurts?”, Seungmin whispered worriedly, “Should I go get Chan?” – “Please, Minnie, please”, the older begged, close to tears. Promising, he’d be back as soon as possible, the vocalist hurried to find their leader with a very bad feeling in his gut.

“Hey, Seungmin said you weren’t feeling too great. What’s wrong mate?”, the leader asked sitting on the edge of his dongsaeng’s bed. Seungmin and Changbin were watching anxiously from the doorway, as the oldest tucked Hyunjin’s hair out of his face to get a better look. “I-I can’t move, everything hurts so much. My head is pounding”, the dancer confessed, biting his lip guiltily. Chan rested the backs of his fingers against the younger’s fore head before pulling away and speaking up, making sure to keep his voice low: “You don’t have a fever, so my best guess would be that you outdid yourself yesterday. That’s why your muscles are so sore and achy. The headache might just be exhaustion or you might be dehydrated from sweating and not drinking enough.” Hyunjin whimpered quietly, burying his face in the pillow and fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “I’ll talk to our manager to let you rest today, okay? Make sure to drink lots and maybe stretch or use a foam roll a bit later, if you can manage. I just need you to send me the video of the choreography so that we can go over that and try to maybe already learn the beginning, then you can teach us the rest when you’re better”, Chan continued, rubbing the younger’s shoulder comfortingly. The dancer nodded weakly, picking up his phone as Chan got up to make the phone call to the manager. As soon as he hit send, he turned the screen off again to avoid it hurting his head more.

Seungmin who had been watching the entire scene was now in a hurry to get himself ready for the day’s schedule. Changbin, who had been at the door too, was already prepared to head out and quickly fetched a bottle of water and a sports drink from the fridge, taking them back to Hyunjin’s room. “Hey, hyung said you need to drink. Do you think you can sit up?”, the rapper whispered, not sure whether Hyunjin was still awake or not. The younger was still awake, in too much pain to fall asleep that easily. With great struggle he tried to push himself into a sitting position, grateful for the older’s hand supporting his back. They sat there, side by side, as Changbin gently massaged his dongsaeng’s sore neck with his knuckles. The rapper spent the remaining minutes he had left till they needed to leave trying to sooth the dancer’s aches as much as he could before helping him lie back down and apologizing: “Sorry, none of us were allowed to stay behind with you.” Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgement. He had already expected this but still couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. “I’ll make sure to keep my phone on me and check my messages often, ok? Just try to sleep some more, you won’t even realize we’re gone”, Changbin chuckled, tapping the other’s pouting lips till they formed a small smile, “Get better, Jinnie.” – “Please be back soon, Binnie-hyung. I hate being lonely”, the younger yawned, cuddling back into the warmth of his bed. The rapper promised before leaving to follow his schedule.

It had been a mere two hours of Hyunjin drifting in and out of sleep when the dancer was awoken by a cramp in his abdomen. He drew his knees up to his chest, despite the protest of his sore muscles, reminding himself to breathe through the pain. His best guess was that he was suffering from hunger pains after skipping breakfast this morning, so he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting to gather the strength to walk to the kitchen to make himself some food. Sitting there, he shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, as a wave of heat washed over him. The dancer broke out into sweat, realizing it wasn’t hunger pains that were twisting his intestines in an irongrip. A wet burp made its way past his plump lips, bringing the ridiculously artificial taste of the sports drink with it. The fear of throwing up in his room and having to clean up later gave the poor boy the strength to scramble to his feet and stumble to the bathroom. He didn’t quite make it to the toilet, gagging a thin stream of blue liquid into the sink before his legs gave out. Choking on a sob, Hyunjin used his elbows to crawl over to the toilet. With one hand he fisted his hair at the back of his head to prevent it from getting puked on, while he gripped the toilet seat with the other hand, holding onto it like his life depended on it. His muscles burned as he tensed with another gag, the small amount of liquid he had consumed that day spilling past his lips and burning his throat. By now, his shirt was sticking to his sweaty back but he couldn’t care less, as retch after retch tore at his throat, barely bringing anything up but small, bitter amounts of bile. He really should have eaten something with his members this morning, at least he’d have something to bring up now. After a few minutes, the heaves slowly died down, leaving the dancer dizzy and breathless. Too weak to move, the sick boy fell asleep with his head on the toilet seat.

It wasn’t long though, when Hyunjin woke up, shivering in his sweaty shirt, the pain in his neck amplified by sleeping in a weird position. He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, sobbing quietly as his head pounded from dehydration. His hyung had lied. He had slept twice now and was still alone, not feeling remotely better but so much worse. Shifting positions slightly, the dancer felt his phone in his pocket and pulled it out. He cringed as the screen burned his eyes but put up with it in order to call for help with his finger shaking over the dial button. It only took Changbin two rings to pick up. “Hey, feeling better after some more sleep?”, the rapper greeted cheerfully, only to be taken aback at the hoarse broken sobs on the other side of the line: “Can you please come home? I feel really bad…” His face dropped, as he jogged over to Chan telling him he’d need to go back to the dorm. “Why? What’s going on?”, the leader frowned, watching his dongsaeng hurriedly pack his things. “I don’t really know but something’s wrong with Hyunjin”, Changbin rushed, then much softer, directed at the phone he held between his ear and shoulder, “I’m leaving right now, can you tell me what’s wrong?” But he got no reply, repeating the question twice more till he heard the other’s phone clatter to the ground followed by a muffled heave. The rapper cursed, heart racing in his chest as he picked up his pace, jogging the few blocks back to the dorm building. Since the other didn’t pick his phone back up off the ground, Changbin ended the call, dialing Chan instead. Breathlessly and with as little words as possible, he explained why he had run off, while his feet pounded the sidewalk.

Hyunjin had pulled himself up into the same position as earlier, phone abandoned on the floor beside him. He was completely depending on the one trembling arm to hold him up, while the other had to keep his hair out of his face. After what felt like an eternity, he felt the hand in his hair replaced with someone else’s, carefully combing back a few strands that had strayed. “It’s ok, I’m here”, Changbin soothed, struggling to catch his breath. The dancer hadn’t even heard the front door open over his retches, desperately trying to bring something up despite not having anything in him anymore. After a few minutes of Changbin whispering sweet nothings into his dongsaeng’s ear, while supporting his side to stay upright and holding his hair, the younger finally caught a break, sinking into his hyung’s chest, spent. The older held him close, massaging his neck gently as the dancer cried into his shirt. “Hey, shh. It’s ok, I got you. Seems you were sick all along, hm? You’ve definitely developed a fever by now. Good you didn’t come with us”, Changbin rambled, trying to comfort the other, “Come on, I’ll take you back to bed.” Hyunjin nodded with his eyes closed and allowed the older to pull him to his feet. Almost as soon as he was upright, his head started to spin, knees buckling. “Whoa, don’t pass out on me!” The rapper’s voice sounded distant in his ears and he felt himself being lifted into a pair of strong arms.

The next thing he felt was being placed down on his bed. Dizzily, the dancer blinked open his eyes to meet his hyung’s concerned ones. “You with me?”, the older hummed, “You’re really pale. The younger only shuddered helplessly, bringing up his arms to hug himself against the cold. “Let’s get you out of that sweaty shirt and into something warmer. Don’t worry, I’ll help you”, Changbin promised, gently pulling the damp fabric off and replacing it with a large hoodie of his own. He guided Hyunjin’s achy arms through the sleeves, understanding they felt way too heavy for the other to lift them himself. “Binnie”, the dancer muttered, “Why does everything have to hurt?” – “That’s probably the fever, Sweetie. It makes you achy all over”, Changbin cooed, easing his dongsaeng back down and covering him with his blanket. “Do you think you can stomach some water?” As expected, Hyunjin shook his head, wanting nothing more than to sleep off what was making him hurt. Sensing this the rapper whispered: “Rest. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Do you want me to rub your back or stomach?” – “C-Could you rub my back? Just please don’t touch my stomach”, came the sleepy reply. Of course, the older complied.

It had been almost three hours and Changbin had put his time to use, preparing some plain rice porridge. He knew how depleted his dongsaeng was of both fluids and nutrients. Before he had fallen ill, he had pushed his slim body to the limits, neither eating nor sleeping enough in relation to the endless hours of dancing he put it through. With the bowl in one hand and Gyu in the other, the rapper made his way back to Hyunjin’s room, expecting the other to still be asleep. Instead, the dancer looked at him with watery eyes, believing his hyung had left, despite his promise. “Hey, you’re awake”, the older smiled, placing the bowl onto the nightstand next to the bottle of water that was still there from the morning, “Do you think you can handle some plain porridge? Your body needs the energy to recover, plus, if there was something in your stomach, I could give you some painkillers.” Again, another sad headshake: “I really can’t eat that right now. It’ll just come right back up.” Changbin sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Gyu in his lap. “Look, I brought you some company, Jinnie. Yeah, I know it’s ridiculous but he always makes me feel better so I thought he could do the same for you if you cuddle him for a while”, the dark rapper explained, blushing and looking at his hands before handing the plushie to his dongsaeng, who accepted it with a small smile. “Thank you, hyung, I bet he will”, the dancer mumbled.

They stayed like this in comfortable silence till Hyunjin’s stomach gave a painful grumble. “Do you need to be sick again?”, Changbin frowned sympathetically. The younger shook his head, despite his skin losing color quickly. He really didn’t want to throw up again. The older had his doubts, so he assured: “It’s ok, if you need to get it out, get it out. There’s a trashcan next to your bed.” – “Will you hold my hair?”, his dongsaeng forced out between grit teeth, slowly losing his fight. “Of course. Hyung got you, don’t worry”, the rapper hushed, helping Hyunjin roll onto his side, who gagged weakly over the bin. As promised, the older kept his hair back, playing with it in a soothing manner. Expectedly, there was not much for the dancer to bring up, besides some stomach acid and bile. “Sweetie, I really think you’re done. There’s nothing left in you. Let’s lie back down”, Changbin cooed, drying his dongsaeng’s tears “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to clean this out. Can you hold onto Gyu for me?” The younger gave a teary nod, immediately opening his arms, as soon as Changbin returned. The rapper placed the trashcan next to the bed before settling under the covers next to Hyunjin, taking the sick boy into his arms. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you”, the older praised, slowly reaching for the water bottle, “Can you try to have a few sips for hyung?” This time the dancer relented, drinking a few tentative sips before cuddling back into Changbin. The rapper gently played with his hair, hoping for Hyunjin to fall asleep quickly before his stomach could decide to reject the small amount of water. The dancer soon drifted off in Changbin’s arms while holding onto Gyu. The rapper hummed ‘hyung got you’, cradling the younger’s burning body till the rest of the group returned home.

[themurphyzone]

Oneshot: Truth in Television Soaps

So, my mom watched a lot of dramas back when we used to have her Filipino channels (she has switched to streaming on the Ipad thank goodness). For my readers who have never seen a Filipino soap opera, just know there’s a lot of screaming, crying, and catfighting. The majority of dramatic moments are so overacted that it becomes hilarious. 

“So, what did you think?” Heinz asked as Perry put the borrowed boxset of El Matador de Amor on the shelf. “Selena deserved so much better than Jose. He completely shirked his duties as royalty just to go bullfighting! She deserves a guy who’s actually ready for a commitment.” 

Perry nodded, though privately he felt that the plot with Selena and Fernando should’ve taken a backseat to the intrigue of Esmerelda falling in love with the corrupt police chief’s son, Juan, who used the nickname El Matador when in the bullfighting ring to avoid being caught by his father. 

“So then I was thinking, if this is how engaging a Spanish drama is, there’s gotta be some gold from other countries,” Heinz continued, handing Perry a brightly colored DVD case. The title was in a foreign language. There were two women, one in a wedding dress, tugging a man between them with angry looks on their faces. “I was thinking of going for Italy next, but Philippines works too. One of my neighbors ordered it, but it got delivered to my door by mistake. But hey, I’m not turning down a free opportunity to watch something I’ve never heard of before.” 

Perry folded his arms. 

“Sheesh, you good guys have to be so uppity about this whole stealing is wrong thing,” Heinz complained. “I’ll give it back after I watch it.” 

Shaking his head, Perry grabbed the delivery information off the table and shoved it into Heinz’s hand. Then he forcefully pushed him out the door. 

“Alright, I’m returning it! I’m returning it, hold your horses. Or tail. I don’t know why we even say that when there aren’t any horses around here. At least let me check the door number first,” Heinz said. “And quit shoving. That’s just rude.” 

He stopped pushing, figuring that he’d better start setting a precedent for being the good guy. 

Heinz checked the paper, then pointed down the hall. “Oh, it’s just two doors down. At least we don’t need the elevator. That thing is slow even on the best days.” 

He knocked on the door, tapping his foot as he waited. Perry could see him mouthing numbers as an excuse to dash away if no one answered in the short timeframe Heinz was giving them. 

Finally, a man in a white undershirt opened the door slightly. He didn’t bother unlatching the chain. “Oh, it’s you. The crazy neighbor,” he mumbled. “Whaddya want?” 

Heinz made an indignant noise at being called a ‘crazy neighbor’, so Perry gave him a nudge to remind him of why they were there. Better to just get this done and over with. 

“A DVD was delivered to my door by mistake. Something from the Philippines,” Heinz said. “I was gonna keep it for myself, but my former nemesis is now forcing me to return it cause that’s in the good guy manual. Apparently.” 

“Tom? Who’s that?” a woman called from inside the apartment. 

Tom paled, quickly checking over his shoulder. Then he dropped a ten dollar bill through the crack. “That money is for keeping quiet. My mother ordered that DVD, but I don’t want any of that trash anywhere near me,” he shuddered. “Take those and leave. Now.” 

“Is that my DVD?” the woman asked. “I’ve been looking forward to watching it....” 

“Just a salesman! It’s nothing!” Tom called to her. Then he shook his head, glaring at Heinz and Perry. “Well, get out!” 

The door slammed shut. 

Heinz grinned, scooping up the ten bucks triumphantly. “Wow, I guess this good guy stuff pays off. Literally! Can I get a rimshot?” he asked. “C’mon, I deserve a rimshot for that pun!”  

Perry didn’t mention that the money was only a bribe. But it was definitely one of the strangest bribes he’d ever seen. While Heinz gloated over his victory as they headed back to his living room, Perry couldn’t help but wonder if the show was as bad as Tom claimed it would be. 

Three hours later, they were sobbing into tissues while Angela claimed she didn’t really love Manuel, and that he was an emotional crutch while her poor family tried to scrape up enough funds to send her ailing father to the United States for a life-saving heart transplant. 

“How could she say that?” Heinz cried, blowing his nose loudly. “He was loving and supportive! If she doesn’t stay him, he’ll have to go back to his arranged marriage with Emilia!”

Perry wiped away a stray tear. Sure, there was a bit more screaming than necessary, but a good chunk of the dialogue was understandable to him and didn’t require any subtitles. 

Though he found Angela hard to enjoy since she kept wailing like a banshee at the drop of a hat. Her reaction to discovering that her beloved necklace was stolen was so overblown that Perry had to bite back the urge to laugh since Heinz was so invested in the story. 

But Manuel’s actor was decent. 

Heinz didn’t have a scheme lined up on Saturday, since they’d planned to begin the 3-part finale. Brightly colored tissue boxes covered the coffee table. 

Perry figured he’d better start doing some research to find a foreign drama that wouldn’t be an emotional trainwreck. He could handle a few crying spells, but it happened so often here that he just didn’t react to it anymore. 

Besides, he doubted this was healthy for Heinz. 

Heinz popped the DVD into the player. Then he grabbed a tissue box and settled next to Perry on the couch. “I’m really glad Manuel gave Angela the money to cover the cost of the transplant. I mean, he may be a rich pretty boy but he’s got a heart at least. Though the guy needs to grow a spine to Emilia and her domineering mother. It’s kinda obvious they just want his money. You’d think he’d pick up on that.” 

Angela was excited to finally be marrying the love of her life, while Manuel was a bit more pensive as his best friend helped him with his tuxedo. So far, eight minutes without crying and screaming. It was a new record. 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Manuel Jonah Salonga and Angela Mary Quinto,” the priest announced to the crowd at the church. “If there is anyone who objects to this marriage-” 

“I OBJECT!” a furious woman with her hair spilling out of a messy bun stormed down the aisle, her equally severe mother behind her. They glared furiously at Angela, who quickly grew teary-eyed at having her perfect day ruined by unstoppable envy. 

Heinz gasped, his hands flying to his mouth. “You go away, Emilia!” he shouted. “You always ruin the moment!” 

Perry lightly smacked his leg to keep him quiet so he could hear. 

“Emilia, please-” 

Emilia cut Angela’s choked cry off, her face completely red with rage. “Please?” she scoffed, cruelly mocking her. Her voice rose to a fevered pitch. “Please what? Please don’t ruin my wedding! Please give me my necklace! Please don’t kiss my crush when I haven’t made a single move and have done nothing to claim him! Let’s get one thing straight here, poor, naive, precious Angela.” 

Heinz and Perry were both on the edge of their seats.

Angela trembled from head to toe as Emilia approached her with a malicious smirk. “You are nothing but a lowly maid girl. Manuel only pities you.” 

“That’s not true!” Manuel protested, when the mother suddenly shoved him to the ground. 

“Do you really think you have a choice in the matter?” the mother hissed vehemently. “You are marrying my daughter. It was decided long ago. Boys, surround him. Don’t ruin his face.” 

A group of men surrounded Manuel, completely cutting off his access to Angela. 

“ANGELA! ANGELA! DON”T HURT HER! SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!” Manuel screeched. 

“MANUEL!” Angela wailed. 

Honestly, Emilia was standing on the edge of the stairs. Just push her down, Perry thought. She was completely open for an attack. 

Emilia laughed. “You see? And you want to know something else?” She leaned closer to Angela so that her mouth brushed her long, black hair. “I stole the first stack of bills you peasants bent your backs to earn to send your father to the states.”

Heinz gasped. “I knew it was her! I told you so, Perry the Platypus! And you didn’t believe me! See, I can be right sometimes! Take that!” he gloated loudly. Perry threw a pillow at him to shut him up so he could hear. 

Which wasn’t necessary, since Angela was now screaming loud enough to wake the entire Tri-State Area. 

Angela’s face contorted in rage. “YOU ALMOST KILLED MY FATHER! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A GOLDDIGGER! YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A STUPID, JEALOUS GOLDDIGGER!” 

She slapped Emilia across the face, her head turning from the force of impact. 

Heinz cheered. “Yeah! Let her have it, Angela!” 

Perry threw another pillow. Heinz glared at him for that one, but his attention quickly returned to the TV. 

The congregation was silent. The mother’s eyes bulged out comically. “She...she dared to strike my daughter, a heiress of the Santos resort! Someone call the police!” 

“YOU...YOU WENCH!” Emilia screeched, charging at Angela and knocking her down. “YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM! YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM!” 

Angela and Emilia screamed and fought like wildcats, rolling across the floor as they forgot everything but beating the stuffing out of each other in their blind rage. 

The choreography wasn’t the best, but Perry was more interested in who would come out on top. It had to be Angela. It just had to be. 

Then Heinz blocked his view of the television, and Perry threw the final pillow at him. Heinz scowled, scooping up all the displaced pillows and dropping them on Perry. “I tolerated the first two times, but three is just too much!” he complained. “How do you like it when I turn the tables on you?” 

Perry held two pillows by the corners, narrowing his eyes at the challenge. 

She only wanted a soda. 

Vanessa sighed as she walked past Perry and her dad, fighting in the exact same way as the two women on the television. 

Secret agents were too easily impressionable.