#Woman be waking him up in the middle of night cuz it's past the time of his medicine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qitwrites · 3 years

Text

a numbers game

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Kiribaku

(AO3)

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.”

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

“So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

“Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks.

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?”

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie.

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

“Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.”

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”

Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

---

Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

---

dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

---

“So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

---

Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

“How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3

#bnha #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #flustered #boku no hero #mha #they're idiots your honor #giving out the wrong number au???#if that's a thing??????#this one's a monster y'all

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butgilinsky · 3 years

Note

okay I had a thought but idk if you still write for them but I loved blueberry pancakes and the blurbs you did for it. but did u ever do one about like the anniversary of Rafe's mother [death/disappearance/leaving]? cuz just imagine him being all sad and it's all soft 😭 xx

a/n; i haven't written for the boat show in what feels like forever but i liked this idea so here we go (also i'm watching gilmore girls rn and this reminded me of luke's dark day). this also got longer than i expected it to so i’m sry for that. enjoy!

the first year the two of you were together, you had no idea about rafe's dark day. nobody gave you a heads up or told you that it was something you should be on the look out for. you simply didn't hear from him for an entire day, and no matter how much you looked for him around the island, he was nowhere to be found. it wasn't until you had had enough of being in the dark and called topper that you got any sort of explanation.

"he didn't tell you?" anxiety pumped through your bloodstream as your mind raced over all of the possibilities of what that could have possibly meant.

"tell me what?" topper only looked even more confused at the sound of your question, unsure of how you of all people didn't know what today was or where rafe was.

"it's his dark day. every year he disappears for the entire day. doesn't call or text, and we can never find him to save our lives. we stopped bugging him about it around two or three years ago."

you tried to go over everything about rafe that you'd learned in your time together. you weren't sure where he could be or why he'd disappear like that without a single word. the two of you never did that. you talked to each other, communicated efficiently. this wasn't like him.

you decided not to push him for the rest of the day, only opting to ask him about it the morning after when he asked if you wanted to spend the day on the beach.

"where were you yesterday? i asked top and kelce where you ran off to but neither of them knew." he froze at the question, his muscles tensing and jaw clenching. he wasn't angry, wasn't even surprised you asked, but he wasn't ready to tell you the truth.

"i went to the mainland to pick up a few things."

it wasn't until the next year when you were spending the summer back in the obx, home from college and practically attached to rafe's hip, that you found out what his dark day truly consisted of.

he called you a little after 10 pm, drunker than he would've imagined he'd be if you had asked him earlier in the morning.

“baby!” you had to drag the phone away from your ear, taken by surprise by the loud voice booming through your phone’s speaker.

“hi, baby. you doing okay?” you knew it was the same day he had gone dark the year before. he didn’t know that you had written down the date last year and remembered for this very moment.

“i’m great! the mainland is so much better than the island baby, we should move out here. we should move out, period. do you think we should move out? i think it’d be good for us.” you tried to ignore the fact that he was talking about a step neither of you had taken before and tried to focus solely on the slur in his words and the time of night it was.

“baby, where are you? do you need me to pick you up?” he sighed then, one heavy enough for his shoulders to slump far enough to threaten the concrete below him. you couldn’t see him, couldn’t see the distress etched into his features but you could hear the distraught tone he used.

“no, my truck’s here. i can’t leave it here. i’d just have to get it tomorrow and-“

topper gave you a sideways look, one that told you everything you needed to hear in this moment just before he pointed at his keys across the room. rafe hardly questioned why you were with topper or why you were so adamant on picking him up, even on the mainland. it was easier to get his location than you expected it to be and within the hour, you were sitting behind the wheel of rafe’s truck with a drunk boyfriend slouched in the passenger seat.

“i was six when she left.” it was mumbled under his breath and hard to hear but that didn’t stop your ears from perking up at the indication that he was opening up a part of himself that he kept quiet from everyone else in his life. “i remember her waking me up in the middle of the night and apologizing profusely. she couldn’t be with him, said he was crazy. and for the longest time i thought she was the crazy one. i thought she was the one that up and left like there was nothing of importance here for her. but she was right, he is crazy. he’s crazy and i can’t blame her for leaving because if i had the means to, i would’ve been gone the second i got my diploma.”

it changed a lot in your mind. it explained a lot of why rafe was the way he was. it explained the hostile relationship between him and his dad, explained why he never accepted rose into his life. it explained a lot and though it was hard for you to wrap your head around, you were there for him unconditionally. it showed in the way you grabbed his hand in yours and the way you stayed silent through the sobs he choked out on the way home.

“i’ve never healed. i cant. not when i don’t know where she is or what she’s doing. is she safe? is she alive? does she have another family? does she even miss sarah or me?” you turned to him then, only for a second before you looked back at the road ahead of you.

“if she doesn’t miss you she’s crazy. she’s the one that left and while i can completely understand why a person would leave ward cameron, i can’t imagine someone leaving rafe cameron.” he smiled at you, one fueled by his unwavering emotions and clouded mind.

“i love you.” he mumbled softly, using a tone that hinted at his disbelief that your words were true and honest and not fueled by your affliction towards him.

“rafe, i’m serious. anyone who leaves you in their rear view mirror is an idiot-“

“she’s not an idiot.” your lips clamped together in a tight line. you spilled an apology, explaining that you never intended to talk down on the woman who he clearly loved more than life itself. despite the fact that she had been gone for over twelve years, she clearly still played a large role in rafe’s life. “everyone moved on after she left you know? sarah was young enough to hardly notice. dad had rose even when mom was here. it’s like i’m the only one going through this.”

your heart sank at the sound of his confession. all of this stress and hurt was placed on a boy too young to realize that moment would change his life forever. you knew he went through it alone. you’d heard sarah mention that she hardly remembers her mother, that she wouldn’t remember what she looked like if it wasn’t for the picture she had tucked away into her nightstand.

rafe was the last person that people on the island assumed was going through something. they hardly looked past the attitude that rafe exuded and the careless demeanor he always wore. but not you. you were determined to listen to rafe talk about the skeletons in his closet and the way he reacts to them. you were determined to get him home safe and sound from the horrors of alcohol and how it makes him react. you were determined to help him through it all.

so the next year, just before his dark day, you told rafe that whatever he was doing that day, you were doing it with him. he didn’t love the idea at first given that that was one of his only days to himself, but he agreed. maybe he didn’t need to be alone on that day anymore. maybe you were here with him for this reason. maybe he should just be grateful that you’ve stuck around this long and are willing to truly be there for him.

rafe would never spend his dark day alone again.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #bp blurb #bp #blurb #request #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #blueberry pancakes

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obscureoperations · 3 years

Note

ok feel free to delete this if you aren't into blood play cuz I know its not everyone's cup of tea

but.

I was thinking about a scenario where Martin agrees to be tormented when he's gotten really hungry. tie him up, make sure he knows the rules, establish a safe word. basically the scenario involves teasing Martin with your own blood and making it so he can't get to it to drink, but also pushing and teasing him about the fact you're bleeding and he's hungry and all he really has to do is safe word and he can drink. but he's a good boy, so he won't. and you know he won't.

(of course this involves a lot of trust and intermittent check ins to make sure he is truly okay in the moment which brings out the intimacy here (yes. intimate blood play. it makes sense leave me alone))

telling him to keep his eyes on the cut in your finger as it drips blood down onto his chest. not letting him look away. reminding him how hungry he must be and telling him to not struggle and keep his eyes on you.

by the end of the scene hes crying and in a real deep headspace. ignoring his most important need. for you. all because you told him to.

(of course afterwards he gets taken care of all sweet n stuff :) )

I'm actually not opposed.. not at all! I love the detail.. and I really tried to do this justice to no avail. This is one of the premises that I can see myself coming back to. Trying to turn it from word vomit into an actual story!

Stray tears continue to trickle past his hairline, seeping into the thousand thread count pillow..Cheeks burning with shame.. Martin’s eyes remain fixated on the ceiling--the thin jagged crack that starts at the fan all the way to the far corner of your room. He felt heavy, nearly saturated with guilt the moment you began to ‘take care of him’. Your fingers gripped his thighs with an almost otherworldly force, as you pin his slight hips to the bed. Questions of who he belonged to.. What was his name… why exactly should he be apologizing.

Martin was still at you kept him tethered to the edge of delirium. Lips moving over his flesh in a way that reminded him that you still cared-- Teeth gently nipping at his neck tongue laving over his racing pulse. His mouth was dry, the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach was almost unbearable. The coppery scent was unmistakable, it curled at his nostrils causing him to swoon. The smell was unique, almost spicy-- everything about it was decidedly you. He would catch glimpses of the heady aroma when you would accidentally nick yourself preparing dinner. Or that one time when you fell off your bike skinning your knee.

His hands were numb, wrists tied to the bedposts, he had no idea where you managed to acquire the rope. His legs were extended towards the edge of the bed, slightly parted ankles tethered to the bed. Luckily for him, you decided to spare him some dignity. He was completely bare save for his shorts. Mouth sized bruises adorn his collar, chest and ribs-- all ranging in various colors. Pools of blood began to dry and stick to his skin, he could feel them tighten under the breeze. He was shivering, eyes fixated on the laceration on your arm--he prayed you didn't press in too deep.

He could still taste the tears streaming down your cheeks the moment he crawled in through the window. You were shaking, struggling to contain your sobs.The look on your face practically broke his heart.

“Martin… where were you?”

He momentarily seemed to lose the ability to speak. His eyes remained glued to your angelic face. The tears flowed freely. He never knew you to display any emotion beyond very mild annoyance-- You were shivering, arms wrapped around yourself protectively-- this was something completely new. He messed up.

“Y/n… I’m so sorry..”

“Why not me?”

You had asked him that question every single time. You knew all about his sickness, his actual need for blood. You knew that he couldn’t go to a hospital...he would be locked up forever-- Then why not you?

He claimed that you were far too precious to him. If he ever hurt you “He would die”

This was far worse, he had been doing so well-- You were on the verge of full blown panic whenever you could hear police sirens in the distance.

Martin knew what he was doing, he was quick on his feet, there was very little reason you should fear for his safety. But still, what if he messed up and made a mistake. You would never forgive yourself if something happened to him.

So he agreed. If anything to regain your trust-- and hopefully make amends. The safe word was “silk” ; he could use it at any time when things became too much. He wasn’t allowed to drink from you until you explicitly tell him it’s okay.

He had no idea what he was getting into, he nearly used the word the moment you picked up the blade.You winced ever so slightly as the steel pierced your skin--the ropes were the only thing stopping him from wrapping you in his arms. You didn’t have to hurt yourself for him. The blood began to pool down your arm, he wanted to scream. You seem almost mesmerized for a moment yourself as the crimson rivulets begin to drip down your wrist. His eyes remain transfixed, his face grows hot--the stabbing pain in his stomach causing him to wince. “Yn..p-please be careful” he whispers. Was that a warning or a request?

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you poise your arm over his chest-- squeezing gently as a few droplets land against his skin. He hisses sharply, eyes immediately screw shut-- white hot electricity surged up his spine. Every nerve ending set on edge as the coppery scent hits his nostrils

You take your time, painting red washed lines across his chest as his fingers helplessly grasp at the bed posts. He was panting, clearly tenting in his shorts, but he still refused to look at you.

“Martin, open your eyes..”

He shakes his head, images swirling through his mind. He saw mobs chasing him through the city. Torches blazing as he scrambles down cobblestone stairs. He saw the woman on the train laying practically lifeless. He saw the image of you from one of his dreams.

The two of you had very nearly broken up--but that was towards the beginning of your relationship. You knew that Martin had nightmares--this was when you first began to discover the depth of his sickness. It started with him talking in his sleep, waking up in tears unaware of his surroundings. It only got worse till one day you woke up in the middle of the night to find him locked in the bathroom sobbing uncontrollably. You begged and pleaded for over an hour for him to just open the door. He refused, he was so scared that he might have hurt you. As it turns out he dreamed that he had actually killed you. It all started from accidentally tasting a stray droplet of your blood. In fact, it was a few days after he had patched up your thumb after your run in with the kitchen knife.

Better than he ever imagined, the taste alone sparked something inside of him. He was so worried that one day he might not be able to contain himself. He was so scared that he might hurt you. You noticed his somber demeanor, but the pieces didn’t click until you found him in the midst of a literal breakdown. You didn’t care, you wanted him with you for the rest of your life. You were certain you could show him how to be good.

“Martin.. It’s okay… please look at me darling”

After a moment, he opens his eyes. Damp lashes cling to porcelain cheeks-- you only wanted to hold him. His gaze gradually moves from your face to the tips of your bloodied fingers, still glistening in the light. His stomach turns, threatening to collapse in on itself as he resumes tugging at the restraints.

“Y/n.. p-please.. We--ah.. We shouldn’t do this…”

Do what… sweetheart?” You coo, painting a crimson line just beneath his lips. In that moment you could have sworn his eyes shone brighter, almost amber under the lamplight. The force of his thrashing causes the bed posts to creak.. Groaning heavily beneath the pressure.

No no no… this was not a good idea everything about you smelled so warm and inviting.

He tries his best to school his face into a pleading expression, tongue darting over cracked lips.

“You should-- just clean up, and untie me.. I feel so much better now. “

“Untie you?” you snort as you trace your fingers over his lips, as he fruitlessly attempts to tilt his head. You can feel him tense as a strange sort of shiver rolls through him.

“And then what are you going to do…”

Tears begin to freely flow down his cheeks as he shakes his head. “N-nothing.. I swear..”

“I know this Martin.. You’re not going to hurt me.. You never would.”

His chest heaves, you could have sworn you feel some of the tension leave his body.

“No.. never!”

“Are you hungry darling?”

“Y-yess” There was something about the raw unfiltered need in his voice that caused something inside to ignite. You were familiar with it sure-- it wasn’t rare that you had him nearly slipping off the bed.

But this was different.

You only wanted to cure him of his nightmares, but in that moment you feared you were making everything worse. You just wanted to show Martin that you trusted him completely. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you even if he tried.

With a shaky hand, he draws your fingers to his lips, keeping the blood stained digits poised directly over his mouth. His breath came out in heated puffs, reminding you of this old rottweiler that used to be chained up in your neighbor’s yard.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you weave your fingers through his hair--noting as he leans into your hand. Breath ghosting along your palm--the tip of his nose brushing over the hardened bits of blood. You can feel him inhale deeply, as another shiver shoots through his slight frame. His teeth digs into his bottom lip as he relishes in the brief bits of attention. You continue to whisper to him words of affirmation. Thanking him for behaving so sweetly.

There was always one small vein on his forehead that always seemed more pronounced whenever he was in pain. Martin had migraines, so you saw it alot. He refused to take medicine, in fear that it might “make him loopy” His cheeks were flushed, brows furrowed in agony-- you couldn’t help the sudden pang of guilt. You already knew that Martin would never hurt you… why on earth did you think this was a good idea?

In a haste you reach for the razor, digging it into the palm of your hand. You begin to squeeze at your wrist, urging the blood to flow. You lean in, pressing a kiss against his temple as drops of blood coats your fingertips. You press one of your stained fingers to his mouth

“Martin… drink..”

He shook his head almost violently, pressing his cheek against the pillow. The motion left a bloody streak across his face. He could feel the droplets hardening by the second, his teeth immediately sink into his bottom lip. You were perched atop of him, knees resting against each side of his hips-- you sink down just a bit further. He lets out an audible gasp as your hips rock against his clothed erection-- droplets of blood pool into the dips of his collarbone.

He wanted to die… he truly wanted to die. There was no way that this could possibly be okay. Why would you want him to drink from you? You were so much more than one of his victims, you were his entire life. He valued your livelihood so much more than his own.

He failed to realise he was staring off into space, until your fingertips began to ghost along his jawline

“Sweetheart, are you okay?

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?” you sink back further onto your knees. The sudden bout of friction causes him to shiver.

“Plea- No.. y/n. Don’t stop..”

After a moment, he slowly reaches for your hand, you press your palm directly against his lips. You can still feel the rumbles emanating from his ribs, arms tugging fruitlessly at the restraints. Stray droplets of blood adorn his chest, the crimson stream begins to drip past his cheeks. He was panting, even as you press your fingers through the crack of his lips. Breath seemed to still within his chest.

Tears continued to spill down his cheeks, seeping down into his hairline. Had you actually “broken” your boyfriend? What was wrong? Surely he wasn’t this repulsed by your blood alone.

“Martin.. I’m so sorry..” You whisper suddenly, his eyes remain fixed upon the ceiling, the crimson rivulets drip past his firmly closed lips.

You continue to weave your fingers through his hair, as his lips slowly part beneath your hand.

Tugging as you whisper against his ear. “ Darling.. Please drink..”

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin mathias #martin/you #martin/reader #bloodtw #blood play #self harm #consentual self harm

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monaownsmyass · 4 years

Text

Nice Meeting You

Requested fic by anon. (If you have any fic ideas or requests you'd like me to write, you can leave me an ask!)

Book: Perfect Match

Pairing: Alana Kusuma x f!MC (Kai Park)

Genre: Fluff

Rating: G, none

Word Count: 3,641

A/N: MC meets Alana’s dad for the first time. For the sake of this fic, Alana’s dad moved back to his home country after he finally retired. I used some Bahasa Indonesia phrases and I feel the need to apologise to native speakers if I messed up lmao I’ll put the translation at the end of the fic. I also apologise if anyone is ooc or if some facts/parts contradict the canon work, it’s been some time since I’ve read PM and my memory is foggy 😩

Tag list: @ineedskyecrandall @kamilahsayeet2063 @avalawrencefl @lovekamilahsayeed @thequeenkamilahsayeed @heygmicheelle @djtjsmith14 @jjlover01 @soft-for-drake @dopeyouth @alexroyard (lmk if anyone would like to be included or removed in my next fics and if you only want to be tagged for certain pairings.)

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the anxiety I've been feeling for the past few days amplified.

"Babe?" I felt a warm familiar hand greet mine on the armrest between us. "Are you alright? You're not scared of flying, are you?"

I gave my girlfriend a nervous laugh. "Not at all, after everything that went down and all the travelling we did, I might as well call flying my second home," I joked.

She didn't laugh though, her brows were knit in worry. "Then what is it?"

"Alana, it's nothing. It's just that, well, I'm a little nervous to meet your dad." I paused and bit my lip. "Okay, maybe I'm terrified of meeting your dad."

That was when she let out a laugh. "Oh, Kai, just relax! He may be a little uptight but he's really nice and he’s been looking forward to meeting you ever since I told him about you."

"You've mentioned. But I'm still so tensed and I can't help it! What if he doesn't like me?"

"Alright, come here," she put up the armrest between us and motioned for me to move in closer to her. I scooched over as she wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder. I rested my head on her shoulder and I instantly relaxed into her embrace, feeling some of the nervousness ebb away. "Do you want me to tell you another story?"

I looked up at her gave her an involuntary smile. She always did this whenever I was feeling scared or nervous or down. It was her way of taking things off my mind and putting me at ease.

"Yes, please."

"What would you like to hear about? Work? Family?"

"Tell me something about your family. I wanna know more about your dad."

"I know exactly which story to tell you," she said with a fond smile, reminiscing.

She jumped right into it, her soothing voice was like music to my ears, calming me and easing my worries. She explained the things her dad would do to cheer her and her sister up if they were crying when they were younger. How he'd make silly faces and tell them jokes. And if that didn't work, he'd pretend to be clumsy and hurt himself. And if that didn't work, he'd act upset himself and that always seemed to do the trick. When he pretended to be sad and crying, his daughters would forget their own sorrows and tend to his needs.

"Aww, that's so adorable," I commented as she told me the story.

"It was," she laughed. "There was once where even that didn't work on my sister so he thought he'd surprise her. He painted his face white with his nose and mouth red. He said he was supposed to be a clown but when he came out of the room, my sister got even more upset and started crying harder 'cuz she thought she saw a ghost!"

I laughed along with her. "Oh no! Your poor sister!"

"My dad learnt his lesson after that," she chuckled and continued to tell me more stories about him.

When Alana invited me to follow her on her trip to Indonesia a few weeks ago, my heart melted.

With her career, we could barely see each other and even when we did get the chance, we were lucky if she could spend the week with me. I spent days and nights longing to be by her side and I knew she felt the same. We would video call as often as possible but it still wasn't the same as being able to hold her in my arms and kiss her and tell her how much I loved her.

So when she invited me along saying she wanted me to meet her father, the thrill that coursed through my body was enough to make me bounce off the walls of my room even though I was anxious to meet her dad. I was also excited that she was sharing a part of her with me. When I told Damien I was going on a trip with Alana, his brows shot up so high and fast I thought they were gonna leave his face.

"As far as I knew, she's never invited anyone she was seeing on a trip with her, let alone to Indonesia!"

I could still hear his words clearly in my mind. They made me blush when I first heard them and they still did now. The thought that I was the only one she was willing and comfortable enough to share this personal part of her life with made my heart swell.

I knew Alana wasn't one for outright verbal affection. She still wasn't used to being romantically involved with someone who was in it for the long run but everything she did told me everything I needed to know and I thought it was really sweet that she had her own way of expressing her love. From the way she would hold my hand tighter when we were walking down a dark street to the way she would sigh and relax in my arms as we hugged after finally seeing each other after months in the airport. I could tell what she meant behind every action. And now to this; sitting beside Alana with her arms wrapped around me on a flight with her, telling me stories from when she was younger.

I smiled at the thought and snuggled in closer to her, enjoying her warmth as we settled in for the rest of the flight. Eventually, her stories turned into lullabies and I fell asleep in her comforting embrace.

I was awakened by Alana's gentle voice cooing in my ear. "Wake up sleepyhead, we're here."

I opened my eyes to discover our entangled bodies covered by a blanket. She must have thrown it over us when I was sleeping.

"Good morning," I yawned.

"It's almost 4 p.m. but yeah, good morning to you too," she replied with a laugh.

We got off the plane and from the airport, we took a cab straight to Alana's dad's house. We were supposed to be staying at Alana's aunt's beach house again but I could tell Alana missed her dad sorely and wanted to see him as soon as possible.

When we reached his doorsteps, my palms felt clammy and a million thoughts were running through my head. What if we didn't get along? What if he didn't approve of me seeing his daughter?

Alana took my hand from beside me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She whispered into my ear, "You've got this, sayang." I shiver ran down my spine from her warm breath tickling my ear and warmth spread through my body from the term of endearment.

She unlocked the door and we walked into the house, hand-in-hand. The house was dark and quiet.

"Ayah? Aku dah pulang!" She called out into the silence.

Suddenly, the lights turned on and we were greeted to the sight of balloons and streamers everywhere. In the middle of the colourful display was a man who looked to be in his 60's. He had the hugest grin I'd ever seen and his arms we stretched open.

"Selamat pulang, putriku!" he exclaimed and Alana immediately rushed into his arms.

"Ayah! I've missed you so much," she muttered and held him onto him tight.

"I've missed you too," he said and reciprocated his daughter's gesture.

When Alana finally pulled back, she took his right hand in hers and bent down as she brought it to her forehead. I recognised this as a respectful greeting to one’s elders. She returned to my side and intertwined our fingers once again.

"Ayah, this is Kai. Kai, my dad," she introduced and stuck my hand out to shake his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Kusuma," I said, trying to sound confident but I even I could hear the slight tremble in my voice.

He probably did too 'cuz he laughed while accepting my hand and I hoped my palms weren't too sweaty.

"So you're the woman that's got my Alana wrapped around your finger!" He pulled his hand away and touched his chest over his heart.

"Ayah," she groaned. "Please, no."

Mr. Kusuma just laughed and carried on, ignoring his daughter's plead. "Whenever we talk, she just goes on and on about you"

"She does?" I croaked.

"Of course! If that isn't proof enough, she's never brought anyone to meet me. I always ask her if she's seeing anyone but she always says it's nothing important."

"Oh!" was all I could muster to get out but my insides went haywire. My heart slammed against my chest in love and affection. Words could not explained how touched and grateful I was to be the one that Alana brought home to her dad.

I was still trying to process my overwhelming feelings when I turned to look at Alana only to find her face buried in her hand in embarrassment.

"Ugh!"

I giggled and placed my hand on her back. "No need to be shy, I think it's really sweet."

"I am not sweet," she said, glaring at me which only made me laugh harder.

"Sure you aren't."

I was gonna give her a kiss when I remembered her dad was still watching us. Would it be weird? Uncomfortable? Disrespectful? So I settled for a hug instead at the last minute.

Nothing missed pass Mr. Kusuma's attention 'cuz I saw him chuckle at my awkwardness.

"I appreciate the effort," he said. "But I don't mind you kissing my daughter. I just want to know she's loved."

"She is," I replied immediately without hesitation and saw Alana's face soften.

"Then that's all I ask for."

He motioned for us to sit at his dining table and as we took our seats, he started placing different dishes on dishes on the table from the kitchen. "You both must be hungry after that long trip."

"Ayah! Did you cook all of this?"

"Of course I did! You said you missed my cooking so I cooked your favourite."

"But they're all my favourite."

"Exactly!"

"You really didn't have to, this is too much!" she protested but I could tell she was excited to dig into her dad's homemade meals.

"Ah!" He shook his hand and head at her. "Putri, you complain too much! Just eat!"

Alana served me a little of everything on the table, explaining what each dish was. Every bite I took exploded with flavour.

"This is amazing, Mr. Kusuma!"

"Oh I know," he agreed playfully. "But thank you anyway."

After a couple of minutes, the part I was dreading the most arrived. Alana's dad cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say, "I hope you really impress me by the end of the day. I want to know what Alana sees in you."

"Ayah!" she exclaimed. "Don't be rude!"

"It's fine," I reassured in a nervous chuckle even though my stomach was a rollercoaster. I placed my hand on her thigh to reassure her. "I can't blame a father for wanting the best for his daughter."

Mr. Kusuma raised his brows. "So you know how to play your cards right, hmm? You get a point."

I couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh. As intimidating as this whole situation was, he definitely lightened the mood despite him being the one making me nervous.

"So, Alana has never told me and I'm curious to know, how did you both meet?"

I looked at Alana and Alana looked at me. She cleared her throat. We could tell the other was thinking of all the trouble and danger we got into when we first met.

And there's no way in hell we could tell him that.

"Well, we met... on a flight..." I started, a little unsure. We didn't discuss the details of how we 'met'.

"Right, cuz I was working on her flight," Alana added on.

"Ah, I see. Where were you going?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see Alana looking at me. We were both unsure how to answer.

"Mexico."

"Canada."

We said simultaneously, causing him to give us a puzzled look.

"It was a flight from Mexico to Canada," Alana quickly explained.

"What were you doing on a flight from Mexico to Canada, if you don't mind me asking," he directed to me.

"Oh, uh, I was in Mexico for a holiday."

"And she was on her way to Canada to visit her family," Alana said to help me out.

"Yes, right, 'cuz I have family in Canada."

I think I was being a little obvious 'cuz I felt Alana kick me a bit too hard under the table which caused me to whimper and I clutched my leg.

"Ow!"

"What's wrong? Her dad asked.

"Oh, nothing, nothing, I just... had a sudden leg cramp."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about me," I shot Alana a quick glare and I saw her mouth 'Sorry!'. Her hand shot to my leg, massaging the sore area.

"Who talked to who first?"

"I did!" I quickly responded in case Alana had a different answer in mind. "I saw this gorgeous air stewardess on my flight and I thought I'd be a fool to not at least try to talk to her."

"I knew there was something special when I first saw Kai. And maybe it was 'cuz she was being extremely nice to me compared to the rest of her fr-" she caught herself before she could say it. "Fellow passengers, but I knew I had to get to know her better."

He looked at us, hard and long as we held out breaths, wondering if he bought our lie. Alana's hand searched for mine and gripped it.

After what felt like ages, he broke into a grin and we exhaled in relief.

"I'm glad you found each other," he said honestly.

"Me too," I heard Alana respond and stroked my hand with her thumb, leaving goosebumps in it's wake.

"Speaking of, how is work, putri?"

"It's good."

"You always say that, tell me more! I need to have something to brag about the next time I see my friends," he joked, laughing.

Alana laughed along but I could he was unsure how to respond so I chimed in, trying to bend the truth as much as possible.

"Alana is really passionate about her job," I helped her out. "She's always so excited to go on her next... trips."

She nodded. "I am, but I always miss you too," she said in a soft voice and I knew that was the complete truth, not a show we were putting on for her father.

I felt my cheeks heat up. "I miss you so much too, but I love getting small souvenirs and postcards from you." I turned my attention back to Mr. Kusuma. "Alana always sends me letters and postcards telling me about all the crazy things that happens on her trips."

That was true too. A few days or weeks after her leaving, I'd always get mail from her without fail. It was sweet of her to keep sending me stuff and I really appreciated and looked forward to them. Text messages just weren't the same as getting a physical note from her that she’s held and written on. It also brought me an immense amount of comfort during her missions where she isn't allowed to carry a phone on her. It was the only way I knew she was safe and I knew it was her way of letting me know she was alright to ease my worries.

"I always start worrying as she steps foot on any plane," I admitted earnestly. Her hand was already in mine but I brought my other hand to cover our interlocked ones, cradling her hand on my lap, remembering my promise to her years ago when I said goodbye to her for the first time at the airport. "But at the end of the day, I'm so proud of my airline stewardess girlfriend and I wouldn't change a thing."

I looked at Alana and grinned an honest, sincere smile. She glanced at me fondly, her brown eyes soft and tender.

"Thank you, babe."

"I have to know," Mr. Kusuma started again and I stared at him intently. "You love my daughter, yes?"

"Definitely! More than anything in the world," I nodded profusely.

"Why?"

I looked at him perplexed. "Why I love Alana?"

He simply just gave me a single nod.

I let out a snow breath. "I don't even know where to begin." I looked at her and she gave me a small smile which was all the encouragement I needed to carry on.

I smiled back and continued. "I love that she's always got my back even if she's not with me. That she always finds a way to cheer me up when I'm upset. I love the way her eyes light up with excitement when she's talking about something she's passionate about. I love seeing her face first thing in the morning and the last thing I see before I go to bed."

I subconsciously I turned to face her, no longer speaking to her father.

"I love how she's the most caring and affectionate person I know even though she doesn't always say it or wants to admit it." I smiled, gazing into her eyes, trying to convey the how honest every word I said was. I've never told her any of this but I meant it. And what better time to confess it than now, in front of her dad. I wanted to show her I wasn't embarrass to love her 'cuz I wasn't. And if I could shout it from the rooftops, I would.

"She's the most amazing person I've ever met and I've always admired how she's do anything to protect the people she loves. And above all, I love how happy she makes me. Seeing a message from her makes me feel invincible, as if nothing could ruin my day. I just want to be able to return that feeling for her and make her happy because I love her."

I kissed her hand. "I love you, Alana Kusuma."

Her eyes were shining with tears. I knew she was trying to hold them back. I brought my hand to cup the side of her face and ran my thumb under her eyes, wiping them away.

"I love you too, sayang," she whispered and leaned into my touch.

I turned back to her dad to find him beaming.

"Well, Kai, you won me over."

Alana laughers, wiping her own tears. "That was quick."

"I can tell she means it," he replied. "What kind of father would I be to scrutinise someone who loves my daughter?"

Alana stood up abruptly and walked over to her father and gave him a big hug.

"Terima kasih," I could hear her whisper.

For the rest of the evening, we ate as Alana's dad told me embarrassing stories about his daughters, Alana especially, of course. We would laugh and she'd groan and protest, hiding her face behind her hands but I saw her fighting a smile ever so often.

By the time we were done, it was late and as we headed out the door, Mr. Kusuma stopped me.

"Go on, I'll be with you soon," I told Alana.

She eyed both of us suspiciously but complied.

"Okay," he said. "I don't know what Alana actually does or if she's actually an airline stewardess. She's always been hard-headed," I opened my mouth to defend her but he stopped me. "Don't tell me if I'm right or wrong, I don't think I can handle the truth." He paused and looked me in the eyes. "But regardless of what she does, I'm so proud of her and as a father, I always worry. So what I need you to do is promise me that you'll look after her. Take care of her, please."

"I understand what you mean, but she's capable of taking care of herself."

"I know, I raised her," he said with pride, smiling. "But even the most capable people need someone to look out for them and I've never seen Alana open up to anyone the way she has to you. Aside from me of course," he laughed. "You mean something special to her, Kai. She trusts you and it'll put me at ease to know she's not alone."

"Of course, sir," I replied. "She means a lot to me too and I would never do anything to let her feel like she isn't. I promise I will, I've always been there for her and I'm not planning on changing anything. It would be stupid of me to leave."

"I'm glad you think so," he teased. "Thank you, Kai."

We met Alana outside where our taxi was already waiting for us. She gave her dad a big hug, promising that she'll be back soon.

"Jangan terlalu lama," he replied into her hair.

When they pulled back, he stretched out to shake my hand again.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Kusuma."

"Aku harap yang terbaik untukmu berdua," he said to us.

Alana gave him one final kiss on the cheek before we entered the cab. We waved him good bye as the car drove away. She gave me a soft kiss on the cheek and rested her head on my shoulder, sighing.

"You alright?" I asked, concerned. I wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer to me.

"I had two of the most important people in my life under the same roof."

She closed her eyes and smiled.

"I've never felt better."

(More fics!)

~*~*~

Translation:

sayang - love/dear

ayah - dad

aku dah pulang - I’m home

selamat pulang - welcome home

putriku - my princess/my daughter

putri - princess/daughter

terima kasih - thank you

jangan terlalu lama - don’t be too long

aku harap yang terbaik untukmu berdua - I wish the best for both of you

#i forgot how much i love alana #alana x mc #alana kusuma #alana pm #pm #perfect match #pm choices #choices #choices: stories you play #pb #pixelberry #pm fanfic #choices fanfic #thanks for reading!

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bittybattybunny · 3 years

Note

I guess I have to ask again *takes out gun* Bunn please give me details about that au wip you just posted and... I won't hesitate Bunn!!

You can't kill me in a way that matters nonny

Go ahead

Take the shot

I'm trying to find it but I think I posted the plot synop before (turns out I didn’t but there is an opening of it posted https://bittybattybunny.tumblr.com/post/646414262968991744/haveee-a-snippet-i-wrote-for-the-take-on-me here)

It's based on "take on me" and my love of isekais

i’ve messed with it a bit since my original postings (like Luna is now Lunette as I like the sound better, Rose was the victim of isekai and is not happy about it because he was promised he’d get to go home but you can’t go home WHEN YOU ARE DEAD, just that kinda thing)

Okay so basic rundown time which means it’s ‘bun is about to ramble’

Rose Thatcher was a young writer who was the childhood best friend of Lunette Guardian a young comic artist. The two of them were inseparable and both had feelings for the other, however neither acted on them (Well. Rose did in his own way but it wasn’t a healthy way. He used to date around to try making Lunette jealous enough to confess cuz she made really cute faces when she was jealous)

However in their mid 20s Rose was in a traffic accident (and no not the normal truck kun. His motorcycle hit black ice) And just like that, Lunette lost the most important person in her world.

A few months after his funeral she was out drinking (as she’d developed a problem to cope with the loss of Rose) and wound up in a shop called “Clockwork Rose” where a strange woman took the color of her eye and gave her a journal. no one seemed to notice the change and even the photos of her had changed so she didn’t think on it. But after drawing Rose in her new journal, that night when sleeping she met a young prince named Thorn (the snippet i posted last night) And when she woke the next day got to work drafting a new story. That night she dreamt of him again and he was in tears. When she had woken up for her world, in his world, she’d collapsed into petals and stardust which had him freaked out.

Lunette and Thorn grow closer and Thorn tells her his story, how he is an other worlder like her but instead of being transported he was born in that world with his past life memories. He explains he was promised the chance to return, but now fears due to information he’s learned he was lied to. He also admits he thought she was a phantom at first of his lost lover which gets her flustered.

Thorn has to go away to fight and he asks Lunette to not dream of him for at least 3 months, because that’s how long his trip is and he fears if she wanders without him around what will happen. However they can’t stop it and after a month she winds up in the middle of a battlefield. Thorn is gutted when she’s injured in front of him. (thankfully since shes dreaming she just wakes up)

Lunette finds herself unable to sleep, even with sleep aides, ever since she was attacked. She can’t get her hands to let her draw and she feels the same hopelessness she had when she lost Rose all over again. With Thorn she had felt a bit of closure over the loss of her friend because he was so similar.

She ends up over doing it on alcohol and passes out but finds herself trapped. There’s a powerful demon who warns her to play her role and maybe she’ll be let go, it’s a shame they brought the wrong one over.

Lunette asks what that means and the demon explains, Lunette is the saintess. and she was the one who was supposed to die and be brought over to fight the demon to death. The two should die in order to rebalance the world.

Lunette is very afraid and can’t get herself to wake up.

Thorn and his party arrive and are able to get her out and the demon laughs at their attempts. Thorn says he refuses to lose her a second time when he gave up so much and is able to beat the demon.

Returning to Thorn’s kingdom they have a talk and Thorn is upset (this is the snippet I reblogged that’s written by hand) that Lunette doesn’t realize something important. While talking he finally just kisses her and she finally picks up on what he’s been saying for months.

Thorn IS Rose.

He explains he was so elated when he first saw her in the field, and how he’s loved getting to know her all over again and he’s sorry she was dragged into his mess. Before she’s able to respond though she’s woken up in the ER where she was brought after she’d collapsed from her drinking binge.

She’s devastated she’s basically lost him again and the journal is out of pages so no more dreams come.

She gives up drinking and continues her comic based on Thorn and finishes it with a happy ending that she wishes he was able to get, for him and for her.

While she’s sitting in a park after her comics final update she’s lifted from the bench to her shock.

And there’s Thorn.

He explains the Space witch who had told him he could go home returned after she’d left and he’d been in mourning and offered him a way back, all it took was the sword he’d slayed the demon with.

While he no longer can exist as “Rose” Thorn and Lunette are happy to be reunited and can see each other when both are awake and keep each other safe as they always dreamed

yup owob

#ask #anon #not art #bun rambles #i need to give the au a proper name but i msotly call it my take on me au cuz its based on the music video #obvs tho its LOOSELY based on the music video cuz im me and i like to run ham

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crowleyellestair · 5 years

Note

Hi! I don’t know if my last request went through cuz tumblr was being weird, but I asked for a Jaskier x pregnant reader with reader being scared to tell him and he finds out on his own, did it go through before? I’m not sure, I’m sorry if it did and your getting this twice!

AN/// I did not see it, so thank you again for taking time to re ask! This is a little longer than planned. I hope it’s what you were looking for!

I also have a smutty request coming out this weekend 😉

Masterlist

Also check out my other Jaskier stuff- I have a lot!

It wasn’t because Y/n thought he would be a bad father.

She thought he would actually make an amazing dad considering all the passion he puts into anything he loves. He may have sharp, cynical wit, but his heart truly laid in a place of optimism.

Y/n would wrack her brain, trying to think of any possible reason he wouldn’t make a great parent, coming up with nothing.

Being able to wake up to the sunrise, finding him sitting at his desk, turned to their child. He would always wake up before her, playing his lute, but he would be playing to their child. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in her mind that the kid would inherent those blue eyes, being able to pierce her through the sunlight, just like Jaskier’s. Maybe the child would sing along- Maybe they could have a duet act at some point.

Of course, if that were to happen, she would need to stop daydreaming, and actually tell him he was going to be a father.

But what would happen?

Y/n would be left somewhere like Velen to live out her time ‘in peace’ until the child grew up. She would never think that Jaskier would leave her, but she wouldn’t live with herself if she had to make him stay in one spot. Though she wasn’t there the first time the dynamic duo met, she has heard both sides of the story, and it seemed to be a match made in heaven for the two. She would rather sacrifice her own sanity than keep the bard from what he truly wanted.

Jaskier was young and he had so much ahead of him. He’s seen the world, played for kings and queens- but inspiration can’t be made up from a barn in the middle of a bog. He needs Geralt, just as Geralt needs Jaskier.

Not that Y/n was expendable in their adventures, but if one had to leave, she would assume it would be her.

A Witcher is supposed to have alchemy training, and he has his Quen, allowing him to have a magical shield. The only person that really needed to be healed would be her, or maybe Jaskier if he had gotten himself in the crossfire. Geralt didn’t need her help fighting, though he never complained, he could live without her. Without a child as well.

Especially now that he had a child surprise on the way.

She was an adequate fighter and a healer- healers could be found everywhere! She hadn’t had too much magic ability, surely leaving Yen or Triss to be able to be more help.

They weren’t here now, however, which gave her peace of mind in her abilities, but it hadn’t lasted long.

The Noonwraith had been really getting to Geralt and her for a while now. The Witcher couldn’t keep up the stamina to capture it in a trap of his, and Y/n was on her last moon dust bomb.

Sadly, these were the only ways to take down these beasts.

She hadn’t been feeling good going into the fight, only finding out her secret a few nights prior, some of the symptoms already kicking in. Luckily, the trio had been staying at an inn that night, so she could puke in peace, not having to worry about getting out of ear shot of Geralt in the woods. After unloading her stomach that morning, she hadn’t really been up to much other than sitting on Horse and leaning on Jaskier.

Jaskier hadn’t seen a difference as nothing changed in her attitude- there actually had been, but she had acting chops. Y/n didn’t know if Geralt knew. He had some crazy senses that she couldn’t imagine fully comprehending. The two were close, so she knew he would speak to her first, in private, before saying anything to Jaskier, but what if Geralt would push them out? Geralt would refuse to let her continue with them in her condition, and he would insist Jaskier stay with her.

Of course, the two would need to make it out alive for any of that to happen.

The Noonwraith had been hurt, but Geralt had been having trouble keeping the thing in the trap. Once it’s out of the trap, it can hurt you, but you can’t touch it.

Geralt had been trying to muster up more magical power when the wraith disappeared. It had quickly reappeared behind him. It only took Y/n a moment to make a decision, quickly swatting it’s back. The attention of the beast quickly fell on her, the thing looming, and quickly striking. Geralt had gotten the trap down, swinging his sword, giving the beast a death blow. That, was of course, after the thing had given all its power into attacking the woman.

She dropped to the ground, the wraith falling on top of her. Geralt was quick to her side, but nervous when she wouldn’t open her eyes. The one thing he hated more than having a partner down in action, was having to carry her unconscious body back to a waiting Jaskier.

Even after his constant reassurance towards his bard, Jaskier couldn’t calm down, raising his voice and yelling for Geralt to get them to a healer.

Jaskier never yelled. It was unbecoming of him, and terrible for the vocal cords. But, when it came to Y/n, the person he had found real, true love in, well… It had certainly surprised Geralt.

She had stayed unconscious for a day, which gave Jaskier a lot of time to worry. He wouldn’t leave the tent, and reflected on the past few days. Ever the dramatic one, he reminisced over what may have been her last days alive- even though he knew she would be fine. But, his heart started to hurt after thinking about how dismissive she had been.

“I think, this might be the best apple juice I have ever had.” He paused, looking to his lover. She just shrugged, and he looked to his cup. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably can find something better, but I will definitely put this down as the best so far.” He leaned on the table, looking at Y/n’s far off look. His brows raised and he continued sarcastically. “Maybe I could write a song about it. Could probably become the best song ever written by ‘The Great Jaskier’. I could write a duet line for Geralt.”

All he received in response was a soft ‘sure’ and more far off looks. She had been looking through him, not touching her food they had gotten for breakfast.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” That had seemed to snap her out of it, her gaze focusing on him. A flush rose ot her cheeks, and a small smile uncertainly stood on her lips. Her hand went up to hold his cheek, thumb swiping over his cheek bone.

“Nothing, Dandi. Just thinking.” He leaned into her touch, but his suspicious and caring gaze still lingered and pressed on.

“About what? Certainly, you can’t still be thinking about the lady in the woods.” She sat there, blinking at him. She could feel a nervous heat crawl up her spine and her smile fell. But she quickly threw it up again, dropping her hand. She made a move to get up while saying quickly,

“Nope, just thinking about your supposed duet with Geralt.”

He had thought of every little moment until the healer was done. But he was set on an entirely different course of thought when the healer said,

“They’ll both be fine.” He had immediately thought that a shifter or two had somehow merged and took her form, but when the healer also said, “congratulations, by the way,” he knew.

And he didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to celebrate, but his love is sitting in front of him, unconscious. Geralt certainly wasn’t the celebratory type either. He quickly knew that’s why she was acting strange. He wondered why she didn’t tell him, but none of his thoughts came to what the future held. It didn’t matter. Jaskier laid next to her on the cot, thinking about names. What traits would the child receive from him or Y/n. Unlike Y/n, he didn’t even bring his mind to music, assuming the child would take on healing. Maybe even becoming the best healer around, especially if they inherited magical power.

After a couple hours of him sitting in slence, she had woken up.

“I promise to be the best father.” Jaskier quickly pulled her nervous and shocked form into his arms. “Imagine what they’ll look like. Though, I don’t know what I’ll do with two people telling me about herbs that I can’t remember. Do you think it would be funny if we got them to call Geralt ‘uncle’?” She laid in his arms shocked. These were the first words she had heard after just waking up, and it definitely sobered her of all fatigue quickly.

“How did you-.”

“You were being reckless, had to be taking to a healer and they told me.” He was going to go on, but he felt her burrow into his chest.

“I’m…sorry for not telling you. I was just hoping we could get another month in.” His eyes widened.

“A month of what? Galivanting? We need to start making arrangements. I’m thinking in Novigrad. I could get my arts certificate at the university, and you can continue to play gwent. If I’m being honest, I can’t play with you any more. Your skill has gotten out of hand. I swear you might even be cheating-.”

“Are you sure you want to give up Geralt?”

“Grumpy, never says thank you, always leaves trash Geralt? I wouldn’t just leave you, Y/n.”

“I don’t want to hold you back-.” Jaskier shifted to get her face from inside his open doublet. His eyes pierced her as they always did. She could only find wonder and excitement in his eyes.

“You could never hold me back,” raw love flooding his words. Jaskier had to make light of the situation by adding,” And starting a music empire in one of the biggest cities wouldn’t be too bad.” Y/n smiled, nodding.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure I want to spend the rest of my days with you in my arms.”

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #witcher imagine #dandelion x reader

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fatalelity · 3 years

Note

“i said i love you.”

five word prompts. accepting. @trustschaos

night easily drifts into the scene much like the promise of dining at a dirty dive bar for the sake of satiating an appetite that doctors should not endorse. there is an element of unpredictability when it comes to lauren bloom; thus, it is no surprise when she waits in the lobby, watching the way how the skies change from soft hues of orange to a dark tinge of light polluted darkness hovering above the glass ceiling [ sickening, really. ]

by this time, she had figured the cause : it comes with the profession, it comes with the workplace, and it comes with the department she leads. so, with a deep breath addison inhales a sharp breath before she steps out the doors of the hospital. there is no visible displaying of annoyance ― mayhaps, a hint of disappointment but she knows the chaos that comes with the emergency department [ or at least, her perceived degree of chaos, that is. ] thus, she leaves a message.

[ text ] hey, i’m gonna head out first. lemme know when you’re done. [ text ] i’m not going anywhere. 😊

with that, she shoves the phone back into the pockets of her jacket.

much like lauren bloom, she too is career driven ― after all, that is why she ended up neglecting her marriage with the man who she thought was the love of her life. yet, somehow... the expectations with her doesn’t feel unattainable. she couldn’t be everything for derek, she couldn’t be enough for him ― despite her fruitless efforts. then comes lauren bloom, akin to a wildfire that ravaged the chambers of her heart, leaving her with an ache like no others... and yet addison feels at ease with her in spite of all the signs pointing towards otherwise.

perhaps, it is the lack of history between them. perhaps, it is the reality of them being two sides of the same coin : one is a latent manifestation of chaos / one is the covert manifestation of disaster. she’s unaccustomed to her love language at first : scared of rejection and terrified of the heartbreak that comes from the lack of affirmations. but it is with time that she begins to ease her mind again and slowly, but surely she could feel those cracks of her heart heal from the molten gold of lauren bloom’s affection. slowly, she’s buried the pain seattle left her into the cemetery of her past and now when she looks into those warm inviting eyes, all she could see is a future that she wants to build with their tattered hands ― a future built on love, a life filled with laughter, and communication.

strange how she would consider a life with a woman she had yet to utter her love for. [ i could fall in love with her. i could give her my whole heart. i could give her my whole life. i could take her hand in mine... but am i ready? ] for once, she thinks about the notion of loving her without the panic that once filled her veins as she panicked, as she choked and laughed awkwardly at even the mere thought of being in love with lauren bloom. [ lauren wouldn’t be ready for her. lauren wouldn’t be ready to realize the true damage that lies underneath her skin. lauren would see all that hurt and run. ] but addison montgomery has passed the point of caring. [ even if she doesn’t love me. it’s okay. it’s okay because she should know that someone does love her. ]

perhaps it is the selfish nature of addison montgomery that craves any ounce of affection she can grasp from a woman who could barely comprehend what that even means. after all, she knows of her family predicament ― addison is acutely aware of the possible ramifications of the lack of maternal love and the truth is, if not for that girl who was once her roommate and now her dearest friend, addison is certain she, too, would feel incapable of loving. perhaps her divorce and the series of disasters that followed suite led her to believe that ― and perhaps that was precisely why she ended up denying her feelings for lauren bloom ― the feelings of trust, of comfort, and of love.

thus, when lauren arrives into the purview, addison almost bounces like an excited juvenile schoolgirl at the sight of seeing her personified heartthrob. there’s a grin that stretches across her lips that had been drawn taut all day ― and lauren? she looks exhausted, which is no surprise and addison witnesses an apologetic look that easily crosses lauren’s face as they meet in the middle. lauren doesn’t speak, or perhaps she’s not offered a chance to speak.

❝ okay, so i went to that pizza joint you like so much ― funny story, matteo? the shop owner? he recognized me! kinda awkward that i had to tell him i divorced ‘boy with greasy hair’ ― well, that’s what he called derek. can you believe it, that place has been around longer than i have been practicing medicine ― ❞ then addison pauses almost abruptly, remembering that in her hands she holds two very greasy bags containing the slices she went for. thus, before she speaks again her cheeks flush [ thank goodness for the darkness ] and she allows an awkward smile to grace her lips, ❝ a-anyways! i picked something up for you. i know the margherita’s your favourite ‘cuz we spent fifteen minutes arguing if the meat lover’s or the margherita is superior, but they were out so... i got you barbeque chicken instead. oops, maybe we should try getting it next time before they sell out right? anyways ― ❞

i love you.

in that instance, addison is convinced her mind is deceiving her. it had been a long day, she had been awake since 8 a.m ... the day before. it’s been more than twenty-four hours since the last time she got a full cycle of sleep. so her eyes widen, her smile drops slightly in favour of the perplexed expression that mirrors onto her face.

❝ s-sorry... w-what did you just say? ❞

her heart’s racing fast, her mouth’s gone dry at the words she believes she’s heard with her ears. now, addison montgomery is accustomed to disappointment ― for the time she’s spent in seattle, it’s the only thing she’s tasted. call her a cynic but she could not fathom the idea that lauren would even love her ― how could she love her despite knowing all the awful things she had done? how could she love her knowing that she’s hurt mark sloan the way she did or the fact she committed adultery, an act she could never forgive herself for? how could she love addison montgomery when she stands before her with all her faults to bare?

i said i love you.

it isn’t frustration in lauren’s voice but perhaps the nakedness of being vulnerable that addison perceives. her blood runs hot, her heart’s palpitating [ and she could swear, her heart skipped a beat ] until it settles and it’s overwashed with a warm dizziness. there’s a look of disbelief on her face and despite her anxieties telling her how this is a lie and the voice of bizzy faintly mentioning her disappointment... addison manages to silence them all.

❝ you... you love me? ❞ she asks with a trembling tenor in her voice before she settles the items clutched in her hand onto the closest surface. finally, this allows her to offer all her senses to lauren bloom as she watches her with watery cerulean eyes.

the image of lauren bloom ripples in her mind’s eye, and in that instant they squeeze shut as a lone tear escapes her. [ she loves me. she loves me. lauren bloom... loves me? ] with a shuddering breath, she lets her glassy eyes open as her trembling fingertips traces the shape of her lover, feeling the warmth beneath her extremities as if she’s searching for every and any sign that this is not a dream only to be shattered by her waking up.

so she doesn’t speak at first before cupping lauren’s face into her hands eagerly before pressing a kiss against her lips. her chest is full with the warmth that she’s been desperately holding back, a love that she’s been too terrified of offering to a woman who might just run from her... and to hear a reciprocation? addison is overjoyed and overwhelmed with the emotions that run amok. so when she pulls back, she presses their foreheads together and only laughs briefly ― she’s so relieved. it’s as if a weight has been dropped from her shoulders, as if the pain and the burden she’s underwent had been worth it ― no, it was definitely worth it.

❝ i... i love you too. i... i love you, lauren. god, i do. i really do. ❞

#trustschaos #* 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 : inchara #* 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 : inbox #* 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 : new amsterdam | main #* 𝐑𝐄𝐋 : home is in the shape of you ― addison & lauren #long post /#WELL WELL WELL

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Heart Wins

Summary: Single dad Michael hires a babysitter for his son.

A/N: Not the collab! Ha! Could you imagine?

Word Count: 2.4k

And away, and away we go!

“So, I would just need someone to watch him during the day so I can get some studio time in,” Michael told Maya. “I mean, he’s pretty lowkey. Likes to swim in the pool, watch cartoons, basic little kid stuff. I’ll try to keep my schedule as regular as possible, but there might be times I’ll ask you if you can stay later or even help me out on weekends if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem,” Maya smiled. “And the studio is where?”

“Here, mostly. We try to do what we can at our own places before paying out the ass for ‘professional’ studio time. And since I have Tidus, we usually work here. I just can’t be focused on working with them and watching Tidus at the same time. I mean, it’s not glorious or anything on your end. But, like I said, the kid’s pretty lowkey. And you’ll have the run of the place, so feel free to do whatever. But yeah… any, uh, questions?”

“Um, no I don’t- oh! What happens when you go off on tour?”

“I double your pay?” Michael laughed. “Honestly, I’m not too sure. I’m not set to leave anywhere for about another four months, so if you haven’t run for the hills for something better we can discuss it more then?”

Maya nodded, looking around the house wondering why on Earth she would ever want to give up a sweet ass job like this. “Works for me.”

“Alright,” Michael said, clapping his hands against his thighs and standing up. “I guess I’ll just show you where Tidus is, and leave you guys to it.”

She followed him through the house, up the stairs to a bedroom that had been converted into a playroom. A little boy of no more than 3 or 4 sat in the middle of a comfortable looking couch, his attention held by the cartoon playing on the large television. “Ti,” Michael got the boy’s attention. “This is Maya. She’s gonna watch you for a bit. Can you say hi?”

“Hi,”

“Hey, bud. Whatcha watchin’?” she asked, moving around to sit beside him.

“Pokemon!”

“Oh, cool! I love Pokemon. Who’s your favorite?”

“Pikachu.”

Michael smiled. “Alright, Ti. Maya’s the boss.”

“‘Kay.”

“I’ll be in the basement if you need me for anything,” Michael directed the statement at Maya. “Other than that, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

~~~

“Maya,” a small voice whispered. “Psst… Maya!”

“Mmm? Wha?” Maya asked, yawning and opening her eyes to find a pair of light green eyes peering back at her under a cloud of soft yellow hair. “AAAHHHH!” She retreated to where her bed met the wall. “Tidus, are you tryin’ to kill me?!”

The six year old laughed. “Sorry… Dad said I wasn’t supposed to wake you…”

“But why would you do a silly thing like listen to your dad?” she questioned with her own laugh.

“Exactly! He’s not the boss of me. You are!”

“Nice save, kid.” She threw back the covers and sat up. “You want pancakes don’t ya?”

“Yes, please!”

“Alright. Your dad in the studio with your uncles?”

“They were there all night!” Tidus told her dramatically as they walked downstairs to the kitchen.

She frowned as she tried to remember what time her phone had said when she finally heard Michael’s footsteps on the stairs and the close of his door. Close to 2 am she was sure. And he’d probably only slept for a few hours before heading back down. He probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, too close to a break through with the newest album to focus on much else. “Do you think they’re hungry?” she asked the boy.

“We’re gonna have to make the whole box,” Tidus giggled.

“Then let’s make the whole box.”

“Can we make a bunch of different kinds?!”

“Of course we can!”

“Whoohoo!”

A half hour and at least six different types of pancakes later, Maya and Tidus made their way to the basement studio. Tidus carefully carried the stack of plates while Maya held the platter of assorted pancakes, a bottle of syrup tucked under her arm. “Knock knock!” they yelled loudly. “Special delivery!” Maya kept up with it as she let them into the room.

The four adult men turned their heads at the intrusion. “That’s a lot of pancakes,” Michael spoke first, stepping forward to help Tidus with the plates before he dropped them.

“Yeah, we went a little overboard,” Maya responded, setting down the platter on the little table in the room. “Figured you guys must be starving.”

“You figured right. Thanks.”

“Oh, I just made the food. Was Ti’s idea.”

“Ti…” Michael said sternly to his son. “I told you to let her sleep.”

“But you said Maya was the boss. You never said I had to listen to you, too.”

Ashton, Calum, Luke, and Maya snickered into their hands as Michael’s green eyes went wide for a second. “What are you? An elephant?”

Tidus put his arm against his nose like a trunk and made his best elephant noise.

“Well in the future, Elephant Boy, you should listen to me, too. I am your dad after all.”

“10-4, boss man!” the boy chirped.

“What in th-?” Michael chuckled, looking over at Maya.

“No idea, boss man,” Maya laughed back. “Well…” she gestured at all the food. “Dig in!”

~~~

“So,” Calum asked, wiping away the last traces of sticky syrup after Maya and Tidus made their way back upstairs. “How long has Maya been watching Ti?”

“Uh…” Michael thought quickly. “‘Bout two years.”

“Mhm… And how long has she lived here?”

“She moved in right after the first tour, so a little over a year.”

“And she’s good with Ti?”

“Oh, she’s great with him. I’d be lost without her.”

“So, you’ve known her for two years. She’s lived with you for one. And she’s great with your kid,” Calum recapped.

“Yeah… That’s what I just said.”

“What Cal’s trying to say,” Ashton cut in, “is have you slept with her yet? And if not, can he?”

“What the fuck?!” Michael screeched at the same time Calum shoved Ashton with a “That is not my question!”

“Is too! Maybe not the sleeping with her yourself part. But the first part’s true. We’re all wondering, mate,” Luke piped up.

“What the fuck?!” Michael repeated, looking at his friends, slack jawed. “What kinda question is that? No, I haven’t slept with her!”

“Why not?”

“She’s Ti’s babysitter!”

“So?”

“So I’m basically her boss, you nitwits! I’m not fuckin’ the babysitter,” he growled.

“Alright, alright,” the other three held up their hands in surrender.

“And neither are any of you lot!” Michael added.

~~~

“Hey, Maya?” Tidus asked as they watched cartoons.

“Yeah, bud?”

“My dad goes on dates, right? To find me a mom?”

She blinked. She had been expecting him to ask if they could go swimming,or play with Legos, not have the Mom conversation. “Uh… well… yeah, your dad goes on dates. But he’s not trying to replace your mom.”

“No, I know that. But like, he’s trying to find someone that would love us like a mom would. Right?”

“Right. He just wants someone who’s gonna love you as much as he does.”

“So, why doesn’t he take you out on a date?”

Maya choked. “Uh… it’s not that simple, bud.”

“Well, why not? I mean, you’re here. And you don’t get mad at me when I wake you up to make pancakes. And you take me swimming, and watch cartoons with me. And you help in my classroom like all the other moms. Is it cuz you don’t love me?”

“What?! Of course I love you, you goof!”

“So, why can’t you date Dad and be my mom?”

Maya sighed. “It’s not that simple, Ti. Your dad and I have a different relationship.”

“Oh… Will you still stay if I do get a mom?”

“Of course I’ll stay!” she told him, even though she really had no way of knowing. She supposed it would depend on what the new woman did for a living herself, and how comfortable she would be with Maya staying in the house.

“Cool. Cuz me and Dad really like you here.”

“Dad and I,” she corrected absentmindedly.

“Dad and I,” he repeated. “Do you like being with us?”

“No place I’d rather be,” she grinned at him.

~~~

Michael’s head swam with his conversation with his bandmates. Yes, him and Maya got along with each other. Yes, Michael had come to view the woman as not only an integral part of his life, but also as part of the family. Maya had been there for every moment him and Tidus had over the last two years. And she was pretty in a way that often left him breathless, whether she was in a tank top and pajama bottoms with her hair slightly ruffled from sleep, or totally dolled up in a way befitting of magazine covers. But this wasn’t some friendship that could handle a little awkwardness. There were so many ways things could go with too many options for how it could end, each one worse than the last. And to risk it all over a maybe crush? No. It was far better to keep his mouth shut.

Unbeknownst for Michael, Maya’s own head had been swimming with her own equally conflicted thoughts that matched his own. “Hey, Michael,” her soft voice greeted him in the dark hallway.

“Shit!” he whisper-screamed, hand flying to his chest. “Fuck… didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

“Nah, it’s…” he shook his head. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” it was her turn to shake her head. “Was just about to turn in.”

“Oh… well, night then.”

“Night,” she murmured, feeling his body brush past hers. “Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Um… can we talk a moment? Ti said something earlier that you should probably be aware of.”

“Yeah, course. C’mon, we can talk in here.” He led them both into his bedroom, flicking on the light. “Is everything alright?” he asked as he sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space next to him.

“Oh, it’s not bad! Just… curious,” she told him as she sat beside him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he mentioned you dating.”

“Aw, shit… I guess I didn’t explain that to him as well as I thought I did…”

“No, no,” Maya shook her head. “He understands. Well, as much as any six year old can anyway. It’s, uh… well he brought up something that I just can’t seem to shake.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… um… and I’m not asking to put you on the spot or anything. It’s just…”

“Curious?” he supplied.

“Yeah. Um… what happens when one of these women becomes your long-term girlfriend or wife? Like… what would that mean for me?”

Michael leaned back on his arms. “Shit… Tidus came up with that?”

“Well, he asked if I would stay. I sort of filled in the rest.”

Michael nodded. Then, “What would you do? If it weren’t for this, what would you be doing?”

She shrugged. “Probably teach. I don’t think I’d have it in me to get invested in another family like I am with you guys.”

He nodded again. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to see you go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled before laughing. “Aw shit. That explains a lot actually.” He kept laughing.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, not getting the joke.

“I’m the single dad with a live-in babysitter. No wonder all my dates end horribly.”

“Oh geez!” she laughed with him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. That’s just…”

“Utterly ridiculous?”

“That’s terrible. Like this is my job. Sorry it’s ruining your dates.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault. Guess some people are just immature. Like I couldn’t possibly resist the temptation of having a beautiful woman in my home.”

“Beautiful woman?” she blinked, turning her head to look at Michael with his flushed cheeks.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushed. “I mean, you are. Beautiful. But I- no. I should stop talking now.”

“No. What were you gonna say?”

“Well… I mean I pay you to be here. It’s not like you’re here because you want to be. I mean, maybe you do now. I hope anyway. But, like you’re here because you’re doing a job. If I wasn’t paying you I doubt you’d stay.”

“Well I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t pay me because I already feel bad enough you let me live here rent free. Not because I don’t want to be here.”

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment. But, this is all hypothetical. I need to find a girl who won’t run away once she realizes what my life really entails first.”

Maya brought a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… yeah, good luck with that one.”

Michael laughed. “Yeah. So if you have any friends who are understanding like you, lemme know.”

She laughed with him. “Sorry. Just me, I’m afraid.”

“Bummer…”

“Ouch!” She swatted his arm playfully. “You’d be lucky to have me.”

“I am lucky to have you,” he corrected. “But… we…” he pointed back and forth between them. “It’d be stupid.”

“Terribly stupid,” she sighed in agreement. “Or at least that’s what I told Tidus when he asked. Well, I said it wasn’t simple. But same thing.”

Michael choked. “He asked you what?”

“He asked why you didn’t take me out. Since how you’re trying to find a woman that loves him as much as you do.”

“Shit… how’d that kid get so smart?”

“No idea,” she joked. “Must be his babysitter.”

“Can’t be me, that’s for damn sure. If I was smart, I’d know what to do right now.”

“What's your brain saying?”

“To shut up, go to bed, and to keep trying to make it work with other women the way it already works with you so I don’t fuck up a good thing.”

“And your heart?”

“To take the risk anyway because at least then maybe I’ll have a clear answer.”

“And which are you gonna listen to?”

“No idea.”

“That makes two of us.” Maya patted his leg as she stood up. “G’night, Michael.”

“Wait,” he said, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “Two of us? You feel this way too?”

“Course I do. But that doesn’t matter. Does it?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, tugging on her wrist so she fell down on his lap. “Heart wins.” His fingers stroked gently up her cheeks as he cradled her face in his hands, his lips brushing against hers.

She sighed into the kiss, tangling her own fingers in his soft hair, changing positions so she was straddling his lap. “Heart wins,” she agreed against his lips, as she started to pull away. “We can figure out the rest later.”

“Agreed,” he nodded frantically, green eyes shining brightly. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Tag List

@frontmanash @goeatsomelife @flameraine @creator-appreciator @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @boomerash @teenwolfss24 @karajaynetoday @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @cashtonisruiningmylife @another-lonely-heart

#heart wins #michael clifford #michael clifford fic #single dad!michael #babysitter!oc #5sos #galcal irwin

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jills-valentine · 4 years

Text

The Night We Met

ship: Claire Redfield x Leon S. Kennedy

a/n: hello! welcome to my first cleon fic and 3rd request i got, thanks to @missmamacitaoliveira who requested this, ily<3

October 12th, 1998, 8:36 pm

Claire exhaled the smoke from her cigarette. Since Raccoon City, Claire and Sherry were living with Leon, in his not that small appartment.

Leon and her were really close, but they wouldn’t admit that they had feelings for each other. They knew, they sparked from the beginning, but they wouldn’t admit that either.

Claire had put the cig between her lips once again. She was thinking a lot in a past few days. Mostly about what she feels. And to whom.

She put out the cigarette and made her way to the kitchen.

She stood in the middle of the room, not really knowing what she wanted to do. She let out a loud sigh.

She was alone right now.

Sherry went for a sleepover to her best friend from school and Leon was at work. It felt really empty without them.

She felt too sad to do anything productive. She just took some loose clothes and made her way to have a steamy shower.

The stream of the hot water hit her tense body, making it relax a slightest bit.

As water was flowing down her face, she couldn’t hold it anymore. She let out the tears fall down on her cheeks.

She just felt an overwhelming sadness.

She came out of the shower and got dressed. She went to Leon’s bedroom.

She looked around. She missed him.

She laid down on his bed and looked up at ceiling. She didn’t notice when she dozed off.

October 13th, 1998, 01:18 am

Leon quietly closed the door behind him. He hung his jacket and took of his shoes. He made his way to Sherry’s and Claire’s room. But Claire wasn’t there.

He walked into his room. He smiled softly when he noticed the girl sleeping in his bed. He got closer and covered Claire with a blanket.

He sat on te edge of the bed and looked at the sleeping woman.

She looked so innocent, so peaceful.

Leon leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on Claire’s forehead.

He smiled once again and made his way to the bathroom.

October 13th, 1998, 1:57 am

Leon quietly walked into his bedroom. He didn’t want to wake up Claire.

He felt guilty for leaving her alone for a few days. He missed her.

He laid beside her and covered both of them with the duvet. But he couldn’t sleep.

He sighed.

“Leon?” Claire asked with a sleepy voice.

“I’m here.” He answered quietly.

Claire faced him. A grin appearing on her face.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice when I fell asleep.” She rubbed her eyes.

Leon chuckled.

“It’s okay” He said softly. “I missed you Claire.”

She looked at him. Her eyes sparkling.

“I missed you too... So much.” She said and got closer to him.

He wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, I left you alone.” He whispered.

Claire cupped his cheeks.

“It’s fine. You’re now here.” She smiled.

Oh man, he did love that smile.

He leaned in and connected their lips. Claire didn’t protest. She needed that.

Their kisses where soft and gentle, filled with longing.

Leon could taste the strawberry lip balm he had seen Claire use all the time. Her lips were so soft, just ideal to kiss. Why he haven’t done that earlier? Cuz he was afraid. He was afraid that his feelings, will destroy the friendship they had.

Their kisses got more passionate. Leon made Claire sit in his lap, without breaking the kiss.

Claire’s hands got lost in Leon’s ashy brown hair.

Leon broke the kiss. He looked into Claire’s eyes. Their heavy breathing was echoing in the room.

He rested his forehead against hers.

“I think..” He started.

“I love you.” They breathed at the same time.

They looked at each other and giggled. That’s what both of them wanted to hear.

Leon leaned in to kiss Claire once again. He could feel her smiling against his lips.

He made his way down Claire’s neck, kissing it gently, before sucking on it and biting it, leaving hickeys behind. Claire hissed quietly.

“Leon..” She whispered, so overwhelmed by the pleasurable feeling.

Leon left a few more marks on her neck and collarbones, and came back to kissing Claire’s lips.

Claire broke the kiss.

“Remember the night we met?” She asked.

“How could I not?” Leon smiled.

She hugged him tightly, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

They cuddled and kissed for hours, before falling asleep in each other arms.

#leon x claire #cleon #claire redfield #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 #re 2 remake

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hollyhomburg · 4 years

Note

have u talked about ur soulmate before here bc this is the first time i've heard of them

yes, I have! most of the time I have referred to him as F though, which is probably why you’re confused. I met him when I was in South Korea, we love each other but we’re not in love if that makes sense? I video chatted with him today and it was so nice. I haven’t seen him in person in nearly 18 months and yet- it still feels the same for me, I think it feels the same for him too- cuz he’s been sending me a lot of romantic things.

He’s probably a little- worried about encouraging me too much I think? which is okay, we had a very sensual and loving relationship in South Korea, but I’ve always known that he’s 99.8 percent gay as a mother fucking goose- I was the first woman he ever slept with, and I think I’m the only one. I’ve never had any expectation of monogamy or a real relationship from him- because we’ve never been like that- he’s always been 100% upfront with me about that so I’ve never thought it was a possibility.

We had some bad moments, he kissed another girl when we were in south korea and I got mad. Then the next night he tried to stop me from hooking up with another boy, and I got so angry- I ended up putting myself in a situation. basically, a guy in a club gave me a glass of champagne and i ended up coming too in the middle of Gangnam (coincidentally right next to where the bighit building was- lmfao- sometimes i wonder if i accidentally ran past one of the boys because it’s entirely possible as i have no way of ever knowing unless one of them ever says “I saw a girl once in the middle of February wearing no shoes running down the main drag of Gangnam in a skimpy dress”) The next thing I knew after that I was waking up on the train curled up next to F. Apparently he found me in the street and when he took me for ramen I couldn't even hold a fork and was laughing too hard to speak.

We were messy because we loved each other and didn’t know how to balance it with who we were. Him- as a gay man, and me- as someone who has never had the healthiest relationship with sex (surprise surprise I’m like 90% ace).

he's an important person to me because he’s my soulmate. a month or so before the drugging we talked about the fact that he couldn’t ever give me the kind of relationship I wanted. I cried a little but it was okay- I told him “I think we’re soulmates that just met a lifetime too soon,” and then he started crying too and said, “fuck- you’re right” and then we both got quiet and he leaned his cheek into my hand and this song by giriboy came on in the cafe and if you look at the lyrics it’s basically like- exactly what happened with us. and we both started laughing and crying at the same time and he said, “fuck- why does this sound like us?”

18 months later I still feel like that's true- he’s a soulmate that I’ll meet again- in this life or the next. Sometimes I wonder- he told me if he was ever 40 and feeling like he wanted kids (and I know he still does) he’d look me up and see what I was doing. And I honestly wonder if that ever happened in the future what I would do.

I think all of us have many soulmates- soulmates that teach us how to exist is a world like this, how to be ourselves, how to love another human being so fully, how to love ourselves. there are many types of soulmates and many types of love. and the kind I had with him...well... I look back at the pictures he took of me sometimes- and I’m always smiling in them. Until he came around- I always thought I was ugly when I smiled (still do) but when I was smiling at him- when he was behind the camera- I think I looked beautiful.

#Anonymous

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orangeoctopi7 · 5 years

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Stupid Teen Emotions

@forduary Week three is travel/trapped. In this story, Stan and Ford TRAVEL back to the past, where they become TRAPPED! It fits!

Chapter 1: Back in My Day

They didn’t sleep well, that first night. Ford stayed up late, because of course he would have stayed up into the wee hours of the night working on his perpetual motion machine in the original timeline. But he barely touched the project. With the knowledge he had now, he could probably build the whole thing tonight, but that would, of course, be changing the timeline. A younger Ford had learned a lot, working so hard and so long on this machine, and future Ford didn’t want to deprive his past self of that important lesson. So instead, he began writing, racking his brain for anything he could remember of January, 1969.

Stan tried to sleep at first, but he just couldn't. He was too anxious and excited, all rolled into one. So he instead dug out a few of his old comic books that never got thrown away.

They both must have fallen asleep at some point, because come morning, there was a rapping at the door that woke them both with a start.

“Get up, you two! You’re gonna be late for school!” A woman with a thick Jersey accent yelled through the door.

“M-mom?” Ford’s head lifted blearily off his desk.

“Wow, you are really taking the whole ‘stick to the timeline’ thing seriously.” Stan mused from his bottom bunk.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep at my desk…” Ford groaned.

“You never do, Sixer, you never do.”

They marched downstairs and into the kitchen, where their mother had a breakfast of hot cinnamon and apple oatmeal waiting for them. Stan was so happy to see her, he ran over and hugged her, pecking a swift kiss on her cheek.

"Aww, sweetie!" She planted a kiss on his forehead. "I'm still not paying your parking ticket." She added flatly.

"What parking ticket?" Stan asked, confused. "Oh, um, I mean, drat."

Ford was too tired to even work up the energy to be happy to see his mother. As he sat down, he automatically reached for the coffee pot. But a rolled up newspaper smacked his hand away.

“What d’you think you’re doin’?” Caryn asked, eyebrow raised.

“... getting my morning coffee?” Ford answered, addled.

“How many times do I have to tell you, honey? No coffee ‘til you’re 18. It’ll stunt your growth!”

Ford looked like he was about to have a fit.

“Wait, are we not 18?” Stan asked quickly. Luckily, his parents ignored his out-of-place comment.

“Ya don’t need coffee, ya need more sleep!” Filbrick grunted from behind his newspaper.

“You both drink ten cups a day!” Ford argued, his voice cracking again.

“That’s cuz we’re adults.” Filbrick growled, “Once you’re old an’ decrepit, you can drink all the coffee ya want.”

“Trust me, he will.” Stan said flatly.

Ford kicked him under the table. Hard. Stan cried out.

“Can it, you two!” Caryn scolded them, “You’ll wake up Shermie. I don’t wanna have to deal with three crying babies.”

The brothers finished their breakfast sullenly but quietly, and grabbed their backpacks before heading out the door.

“Think we should leave Shermie a note warning him to watch out for time travelers?” Stan asked as he fished out his keys to the STNLYMBL. “Y’know, for when he’s older?”

“Then Dipper and Mabel will be born later than 2000.” Ford reminded him irritably.

“Right.” Stan smacked himself. “Man, this sucks! Why time travel if we can’t make things better?”

Ford’s only reply was a surly sigh as he turned to the cafe next door.

“Hey, where’re you goin’?” Stan asked.

“To get some coffee!”

“Seriously, Sixer? Hot Belgian Waffles is next door, Mrs. DuBios will rat you out to Ma for sure!”

Ford heaved an even more enraged sigh that bordered on a growl, and turned on his heal to get into Stan’s car, slamming the door shut.

“Whoa, easy, we’ll just stop by the donut place on the boardwalk.” Stan reassured him as he started the car. “What’s gotten into you?”

The scientist groaned and pulled his fingers through his curly brown hair. “I don’t know! Normally it’s simple to just focus on my intellect and control my emotions, but it just isn’t working now for some reason!”

“‘Control’ your emotions, or bottle them up?” Stan muttered. Ford shot him a withering glare. “Shoot, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. Why do I keep doin’ that?”

“And the only reason I’m so mad in the first place is because I’m so tired!” Ford continued to rant, “I got at least four hours of sleep last night, it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Heh, guess teen Ford isn’t used to old man Ford’s space-sleep schedule. Or lack of sleep schedule, anyway.”

Ford’s face brightened into his ‘a-ha!’ expression. “Stanley, that’s it!”

“What?”

“The reason I’m having such a hard time regulating my emotions, and the reason you can’t keep your mouth shut even more than usual! We may still have our minds from 2013, but our bodies are teenagers in the middle of puberty. Our hormone levels are magnitudes higher than what we’ve become accustomed to.”

“Great. Goin’ through puberty again. Just what everyone wants outta time travel.”

They pulled up to the donut shop on the boardwalk. Stan poked around in his seat and found a quarter, which he handed to Ford. Suddenly, his brother looked unsure.

“Stan, maybe you should hang onto this. You’re going to need all the money you can get, come summer.”

“It’s a freaking quarter, Poindexter.”

“Yeah, but a quarter is worth a lot more in 1969 than it will be in 2013! This is almost a whole gallon of gas!”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ten minutes ago you were about to have a meltdown because you couldn't get your morning coffee, just buy it, Ford!”

“Fine, but I’ll pay for it myself.”

“With what money, genius? You didn’t have a job in high school because you were too busy with your academic science nerd stuff! Now go buy yourself a cup of coffee, or I’ll make you walk the rest of the way to school.”

Ford frowned, but took the quarter. He couldn’t help but feel guilty as he got his cup of coffee. How could he or anyone else have ever said that Stan was the lazy one, when Stan was the only one who’d ever had a ‘real’ job? Even to this day, Ford had never had what anyone would call a normal job, barring that one summer he’d been a lifeguard at a waterpark in a dolphin-dominant dimension. He’d always relied on scholarships and grants and accademia, which was hard work, in its own way, but still. It certainly wasn’t what his father would have called a real job. While traveling across dimensions, he’d relied on trading information and knowledge, building and selling inventions, and even, occasionally, stealing.

Stan was the one who’d gotten a minimum wage, part-time job selling popsicles on the beach. Stan was the one who’d entered local semi-pro boxing matches and brought home winnings. Stan was the one who’d saved up for his own car.

“Ar-are you crying!?” Stan exclaimed when Ford climbed back into the car, cup of coffee in hand. Ford reached up to wipe his eyes, surprised as his brother to find tears there.

“Oh geez, Stanford, I��m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh, I just--” Stan began to babble.

“N-no, it’s not you.” Ford found his voice wavering as soon as he tried to speak. “It’s just-- gah, I’m so stupid! Stupid hormonal chemical imbalance!”

Ford tried to keep himself from crying anymore by taking a big gulp of coffee. It wasn’t very good, and it was just this side of warm, but it instantly improved his mood.

“Ah, there’s that good dopamine.”

“Better?”

“Much. Let’s go. I think we’re already late.”

Despite the fact that they were ten minutes late, there were still several students milling about when they arrived at the school. The twins felt like they should stick out like a sore thumb, but nobody paid them any mind.

“Ugh, never thought I’d come back here.” Stan grumbled.

“Well, look on the bright side!” Ford reassured him, “Now that you’ve studied quantum physics and run your own business for thirty years, Math and Science classes should be a breeze!”

“Hey, yeah! I can’t wait to see the look on Mr. Grauberger’s face when I can tell him exactly how much interest $300 will accumulate over 20 years!” But he paused. “Wait, what about changin’ the timeline? Pretty sure I never answered questions in class.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t make that much of a difference.” Ford scoffed. “Even if you get 100% on every quiz while we’re here, I don’t think it’d be enough to bring your grade up past a C, and you’ll be dropping out before graduation anyway.”

“Oh yeah….” Stan’s good mood quickly washed away.

Ford rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We know it all works out in the end.”

“Yeah…” Stan agreed, “but there was still a lot of heartache gettin’ there.”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Forduary 2020 #Stanford PInes #Stanley Pines #My Writing

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eye-zen · 4 years

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DROWNED

Swim or Sink

As I waited for the TSA security screening to open, my heart raced. It was absolutely the wrong time to have any negative thoughts but the anxiousness hit me like a ton of coconuts. You know that moment when you imagine everything that could possibly go wrong.

The airport was cold and had a feeling of abandonment. Occupied only by workers cleaning, a few TSA agents, and an armed officer accompanied by a german shepherd. Arriving 4 hours before my 8am flight, the anticipation was overwhelming. After braving the cold for several months I was prepared to head closer to the equator. Where the sun was food and the sea was a reflection of the sky on a cloudless day. Stress is an understatement as life in the city is accompanied by ceaseless sirens, congested trains, and accessibility to any junk food you can think of. The separation from my island home had taken its toll on me, ironically, I never lived in the islands but I imagined for years what it would be like. Never thought I would make the move under these circumstances but people around me were dying and I felt the grim reaper closing in.

To relieve the overthinking I put on my headphones and listened to some jazz, It was Nocturne by Alfa Mist. It calmed my nerves long enough for security screening to open and for me to begin the process of checking in to my flight. The check in process was smooth as I packed very light, just a duffle bag with a few underclothes and a couple of essentials. I headed to gate 18 in a sleepwalking daze. Throughout the desolate airport I saw a few people sleeping in corners cuddling with their charging spouses but we call them cell phones.

I found a seat in a dimly lit corner near the window. The seat faced the tarmac and had a view of the city just on the horizon. Taking deep breaths, I still couldn’t believe the moment was here. Thinking to myself, by this time tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in a nice bed and waking up hours later to the fresh smell of sea water. My eyes began to burn and became heavy like bricks as I fought my sleep. Finally I gave in as the tunes I was listening to expedited the process. An hour later I woke up and surveyed my surroundings, there seemed to be a few people who arrived and were waiting. I picked up my phone to check the time and change to a different playlist. Within a few minutes I was nodding off again, I hadn’t slept in over 34 hours. This time when my eyes opened the sun was rising over the cityscape and a few more airplanes had entered onto the tarmac. When I turned my head the seats were starting to fill up as life was finally being breathed into the airport. I adjusted myself in the seat and reached for my bottle of water. It had just enough for a sip, not nearly enough to quench my thirst. A few seats away from me was an older woman with what appeared to be her grandchild. I asked her if she could keep an eye on my belongings while I went to the restroom and a concession stand. I asked if she would like two bottles of water as well but she politely declined. When I entered the bathroom I looked for a urinal with the least amount of liquid on the floor. Afterwards I made my way to a sink and made wudu, Washing my hands, face, nose, ears, and arms before drying myself off with a paper towel. I felt refreshed but still tired, I guess the 2 hour nap had not done me much justice. After buying my water and a few packs of M&ms i headed back to my seat. I killed time for a few more hours before my flight was finally announced to be boarded. I walked down the long corridor to the plane and sat at my seat 27F. Before the entire plane could be seated I fastened my seatbelt, turned on my music and went to sleep.

I woke up and heard the ice shuffling into a cup before I opened my eyes

Excuse me would you like orange juice, tea, coffee, or water ?

I quickly wiped whatever drool had not made it to my clothes and opened the window. The sun was glaring and instantly made me hot so I closed it. May I have some water please, thank you. I looked at the time and only slept for 45 minutes. I thought to myself, these naps are feeling like eternity. I opened the window back halfway and stared out of it. Gliding across the sky, in and out of clouds I couldn’t help but smile, I dreamed of this.

Hours later we began the descenion and then landing. Looking out the window I could see nothing but plush green mountains sitting in the middle of blue water. As we approached the island, the water went from dark blue to teal, nothing I’ve ever seen before. The landing was smooth and I noticed this airport didnt have any bridges for the plane to be attached too. To my pleasant surprise the plane stopped in the middle of the tarmac and passengers began exiting the plane. As people wrestled with their carry on luggage from overhead compartments I sat patiently with my duffle bag ready but nervous to exit. One of the flight attendants opened the back door which made the process go quicker. As I exited the plane a gust of wind hit my face. It felt like a smooth caress. The smell of sea water instantly made me smile as my nose and lungs happily embraced it.

The airport was surrounded by green mountains and the ocean could be heard just over a treeline. I couldn’t believe I finally made it. Feeling like I escaped the grasp of death only to make it to heaven on earth. I walked past the baggage claim and straight to the arrival section. I was the first from my flight to leave. Clothed with a hoodie and a long sleeve t-shirt I took it off and almost threw it in the trash before hearing a familiar voice.

OY ! aye cuz !

I looked up and there was my cousin sitting in his car. I hadn’t seen King in years. One year he came up for the summer when we were younger. All I remember was his accent and him putting a tiddy on my basketball from always kicking it.

Yo…wassup cuz!

Glad to see you made it, how was your flight ?

Man it was ok, I slept a lot. The view from up there was crazy though cuz, can’t believe we are in the middle of the ocean like ths.

Yes man, this is my home. Nothing like it you finally made it. I’m gonna show you a good time….yo where are the rest of your bags ?

This is all I have.

What ? Haha pack light huh ?

You already know cuz…

I threw my bag in the back seat of his pickup truck and we drove off of the airport lot. The weather was beautiful and the landscape even better. Just hours ago I was in the concrete jungle now I’m cruising in paradise. There were vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the dark grey matter that clouded the city. People on the side of the road selling fresh fruit and vegetables, even a man on a horse in the middle of traffic. A few minutes later we stopped on the side of the road and got some coconuts to drink from a man selling them. At first I wasn’t too fond of the taste but I finished it and felt refreshed. More refreshing then any bottle of water I’ve ever had.

Well cuz were going to go on a longer ride later but I have to work this morning and afternoon. I’ll drop you back off at the house for now.

Damn Cuz, you work two jobs ?

Yes Man, in the morning doing a little construction and at night got a gig at the resort. Here, you gotta hustle. Paradise ain’t easy but it’s worth it.

Yea, I get it.

Well I don’t live too far from town so you can find your way around while I’m at work. All you have to do is tell the taxi where i live and they’ll drop you off. I mean unless you are tired, it looks like you haven’t slept in days.

Okay cool. Well yeah you right about that. It’s been a day or two. Couldn’t sleep thinking about getting on that plane.

Yea well I heard everything that was going down up there, I’m glad you made it. Here, it’s all about respect. You don’t trouble anyone then everything should be irie.

Yea for sure .

We turned off the main road and started heading up a steep hill. The road was not paved and surrounded by trees, so much so that it blocked the sun. After a few bumps we approached a bright red house with a white roof sitting on top of a grassy knoll. The view was amazing, I could see the ocean and what appeared to be “town” at the bottom of the mountain. I didn’t realize how high we came but we seemed to be pretty elevated.

Dam cuz this is a crazy view..

Yeh Meh son. Before I go to work I sit out here and drink my tea. Early in the morning or late at night you could hear the waves crashing from here, especially during a full moon.

Well let me show you around real quick, I have to head to work.

King gave me a tour of the house and where I would be sleeping. The house smelled like incense and had art on nearly all the walls. My bedroom was small but decent. It had a bed, nightstand, closet, but the best feature was the windows. I had a perfect view and the breeze flowed through effortlessly. Swaying the curtains back and forth like sails on a boat. I flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Those few minutes became more as I fell into a power nap once again. When I woke up the breeze was still blowing and I still was in the islands. Part of me was extremely relieved that it wasn’t just a dream.

I took a shower freshened up and decided to go exploring. On the kitchen counter King left a house key and a freshly picked mango from the tree outside.

I began my trek down the hill in search for town. Cars passed me by honking as they maneuvered down the narrow winding road. One of the cars honked as it passed me by and I waved. The car stopped so I guess they thought I flagged them down. It turned out to be what’s known as a dollar cab.

Yea yea,. Good Afternoon, Where are you headed?

I’m going to town.

To town huh ? You’re not from here , What part of town are you going too ?

I don’t know, just town. I’m going to walk around and check everything out.

Ok, ok. Well what brings you here brethren.

I don’t know, just wanted to experience paradise.

Oh, ok I see. Well from my experience talking to foreigners who come here it’s always two things. You are either running from something or running to something. Which one is it ?

To be honest it might be both. Now if i’m running to something, only time will tell.

Yes, I. Well here on my island, it’s a beautiful place. Weather is 80 degrees plus everyday, plenty of good food and beautiful women. But one thing I must warn you. Some of the women here are Mami wata or what you foreigners call mermaids. You must be careful, nothing here is what it seems.

Yea ok, i’ll keep that in mind.

We approached the town after a few minutes. The buildings looked relatively old and there were quite a few tourists traversing the streets. I paid the taxi driver the fare and exited the car. I crossed the street with a family of roosters and entered into a clothing store. I bought some sunglasses and a bottle of water. Block by block I walked through town learning its layout. It must have been obvious I wasn’t from the island because I could see people staring at me. I thought I would be able to blend in, being that the tourists were for the most part white but that wasn’t the case. After an hour or two of walking around I found a restaurant on the harbor. The water was like a parking lot for boats. The sail boats seemed to have stretched for miles as traffic in and out of the harbor was steady. Under the surface of the water was a huge fish. I could see them swimming back and forth as if they were waiting to be fed. I ordered the most american thing you could probably get, a cheeseburger and french fries. After eating my lunch I sat on the harbor for a while then continued my walk through the town. During my walk I noticed I approached a restaurant bar that grabbed my attention for some reason. It was called Sea Breeze and unlike the rest of the restaurants, stores, and bars this one was by its loneliness just outside of the main cluster of businesses. I made my way in the empty bar overlooking the water and sat down.

A few minutes later I could hear voices behind a closed door. There was a man carrying a clipboard with a phone to his ears.

Good afternoon, can I help you.

Yea sure, I just want to order a drink.

Ok, no problem. Serene ! Serene ! You have someone out here.

Seconds later a woman appeared from the door holding a box of beer.

Yes, good afternoon, what can I get for you?

For a second I was at a loss for words. Her presence alone paralyzed my tongue. Unable to speak, I just nodded my head until I snapped out of my daze.

Umm yes,, good afternoon, sure can I have a glass of water,

Ok, is that it ?

Yes, that’s it for now.

Ok, well here is a menu for you. Let me know if you want anything else.

Her skin was golden brown and her hair was black, curly and glowing. She was adorned with a few pieces of jewelry. A perfect accessory complimenting her skin tone. After giving me my water she walked back to the room and retrieved a few more boxes. In a few more trips she began restocking the bar with drinks We conversed for a few minutes before I asked for a drink, a glass of whisky to be exact. I don’t normally drink but it’s as if i was hypnotized. I mean I guess thats what a bartender is supposed to do but it felt different. Jokingly I asked, “you wouldn’t happen to be a mami wata, would you ?

She looked at me with a blank stare and began laughing.

You haven’t been on the island a whole day and you are already talking about mami wata. Haha who have you been speaking to?

The taxi driver mentioned that to me,

Well what did he tell you about this mami wata.

Not much, just that some women on the island were mami wata and that I should be aware of them.

Haha well that’s all you know. The elders say mami wata are half women and half fish. In the daytime they live on land looking for people to bring back to the water at night. They Are said to be the most beautiful women and have the ability to put men in a trance. They lure men into the water at night where they drown or are never seen again.

Wow choices, I escape death from gun shots only to be in danger by the hands of a beautiful woman fish. I think I’ll take my chances with the latter. But, thank you for the fairy tale, I’ll keep that in mind.

Before I knew it, hours passed and I had more than enough drinks. It was the most drinks I’ve ever had at one time in my life. The sun was down and when I looked at the clock it read 10pm. The restaurant workers were cleaning up and starting to close up shop. What in the world just happened. Where had all the time gone ?!? Everything at that point was confusion. The girl I was speaking to looked at me and said, were closing up now. I walked outside the restaurant onto the street. The road was empty of taxis and most of the restaurants had started to close. I began walking through town retracing my steps. My stomach was growling horribly and I was extremely tired. I thought to myself “ How the fuck, did i let this happen. I really don’t remember drinking that much, how much did i drink? I feel horrible”

I finally made it to the outskirts of town and saw the direction I needed to walk home. I stood on the side of the road for a few minutes hoping that I would get lucky and maybe my cousin would pass me by or at the very least a taxi cab. In 15 minutes I decided to just walk back to the house. At first the walk was cool untilI started sweating profusely. The roads were dark and the sound of crickets and dogs nearly drowned out my thoughts. I walked until I finally reached the hill that led up to the house. Suddenly a wave hit me and I became even more drunk than I already was. Along with this came stomach pains I could barely fathom. How much did I really drink and did I not eat while I was drinking. There were so many questions that I had no answers to. I stumbled up the hill every few steps before having to lean up against a tree for a break. I took one step before collapsing to the ground. I rolled over on my back and stared up at the sky. It was the first time I’ve seen stars in years. As much as I hated laying in the muddy ditch I knew that I needed to lay there in order to recover. I gained the strength to get up and began my trek back up the hill. There would be a few more falls before I finally made it to the house. Dusty dirty and drunk. Wasn’t quite the experience I imagined for my first 24 hours in my new home. My cousin’s car wasn’t at the house yet so I figured he was still at work. I slipped off my muddy clothes and reached in the pocket for my cell phone. The phone was nowhere to be found. Wow, so I lost my mind and my cell phone, THIS CAN’T BE LIFE RIGHT NOW.

I stumbled to my bedroom and flopped on the bed, dusty and all. Hours later I woke up as the sun was just starting to rise. I hopped up and threw some clothes on. My head was hurting and my stomach was still in pain. I thought to myself this is going to be a bad hangover. I walked outside and began tracing my steps. Before I knew it, I was back at the restaurant. The black gate surrounding the bar was locked and there was no Sea Breeze sign but rather a poster that read for Sale by owner. For Sale ? I was just here last night, ain’t no way. I was too ill to figure it out so I walked back to the outskirts of town and caught a taxi home. On the ride back home my headache became more severe and my stomach pain was excruciating. I probably was in desperate need for food but now I didn’t even have the strength to make me food. I exerted all of my strength walking back into town searching for my cell phone. I laid back in bed and began tossing and turning in agony. The breeze flowing through the window offered a little bit of relief but not enough to ease the pain. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It was as if whatever I drank started to slowly eat out my insides. I grabbed onto my sheets, clinching them and holding the pillow over my face. Suddenly sun rays came through the window and pierced through the pillow onto my face. I turned my head and looked towards the window. At that moment a sharp pain striked me in the stomach and I closed my eyes.

I blinked once then all of a sudden I was staring at myself. In disbelief I blinked again and I was still looking at myself. As if I was standing over the bed. I could not believe what I was seeing. The craziest part about it, is I was completely conscious of what I was seeing. There I was, looking at my body tossing and turning in agony. I was able to see myself from the outside looking in but I did not feel the physical pain. The more I blinked the more I started to rise above my body and move farther away. The further away I moved the less my physical body started moving. The vision of myself started to become blurry when suddenly I heard a loud knock

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Aye cuz ! you good in there ? OY!

King opened the door and my eyes suddenly opened and I felt pain again.

Yo whats up cuz, you good ?

I saw your clothes outside when I got in. I put them to be washed.

Yea. yea everything is good. My stomach is killing me though. Do you have any advils?

No cuz i dont use those things. I have some tea brewing right now.

Man, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was sitting there having a drink of water and whisky then the next I was laying in a ditch.

Hahaha well yea i can see that. You wasted no time getting acquainted with the Mami Watas I see.

Hold on, you know about the mami wata too ??

Of course, why wouldn’t I be.

Why didn’t you tell me about them? Do you think that’s what happened to me. ???

When I left yesterday you were knocked out. I figured you would sleep all day but hahaha I also didn’t expect this to happen to you on your first day here. Well you must be lucky because you actually survived. Word of advice cuz, don’t get too caught up in looks. Looks can be deceiving.. A pretty face can kill you.

Too late cuz, I may have already died.

#black authors #black writers #short story #author #fictional story #writer

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 11 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: AHHH I CAN’T STOP WRITINGGGGG okay, so, the Tiffany moon necklace is real, you can find it on their website here (now I want it for myself, but it’s almost $3000 sob). I debated over whether or not Duncan and Melody should have had an awkward rendezvous in the past and ultimately decided that if I were working in close proximity with Duncan Shepherd as a 21-year-old intern I too would have tried to put my hand drunkenly on his crotch at some point, so my point of view towards her is one of empathy and solidarity and honestly it just made sense to my story (lolol). Bill Shepherd is going to show up at some point, but the impression I got from the show is that he and Duncan only interact when they absolutely have to as they don’t get along; Duncan gravitates to his mother and she acts as a mediator, so Bill will have a very minor role in this story. Not sure if Beau Willimon ever came up with a middle name for Duncan, but I couldn’t find one and made one up (Malcolm). At this point I’m sort of trying to follow the timeline of the show in a VERY loose sense (and I guess this is a spoiler, but I am going to bring in the fact that Duncan finds out Annette is not his real mother into my fic soon, mostly so Kenzie can comfort him and stroke his hair and give him soft, sweet, sympathetic kisses cuz I am a sucker for that sweet comforting shit); the upcoming show Duncan, Melody and Seth go over in this chapter is meant to be the one where Melody talks about Claire Underwood’s “public breakdown” in episode 5; I’m not going to include Duncan getting arrested in this fic though, because it’s my fic and I can do whatever I want and I hated the fact that they chose to end Duncan’s character that way. Had to add that line from O Fortuna...because the Duncan/Michael parallels will never end. “She walks in beauty like the night...” is Lord Byron, a poem I was obsessed with when I was younger and have always wanted to put in a story. Kenzie making chicken and dumplings is a reference to the fact that Billie Lourd is fucking obsessed with chicken. Most people know Hades was the God of the Underworld; few people know he was also the god of gold and riches, which is very Duncan. It was important for me to imply Duncan had extensive cooking wares in his penthouse; that he cooks for himself. Dudes who can’t cook are a turn-off. Kenzie cooked for him because it made her happy to do it; it’s a way she’s showing him how much she loves him, not something she felt like she had to do, and I plan on them cooking together in future chapters. That moment Duncan leans against the wall across from Kenzie as they look out the window is my homage to the Cody lean. The prayer to Nike is a real one. Full-disclosure, the passing-out after really great sex is something that happens to me pretty often; I go into post-coital daze pretty hard, so Kenzie doing that is literally based on my own experiences, haha! Duncan will finally meet Madeline in the next part, but we’ll be seeing it all through Kenzie’s eyes.

Duncan had left the interview with Gretchen Friedrichs with his mind buzzing; he stepped out of the elevator with a vague pressure humming between his temples, rubbing his thumb into the palm of his other hand, trying to calm the simmering anger that was still hovering over him. He wondered, with some alarm, when the gossip website was planning on publishing Kenzie’s name and occupation. He wrestled with the idea of telling her; no, he thought, I have to do everything I can to ease her into this world carefully. God, I know she’s afraid and that kills me; I have to do everything I can to soothe her fear, not exacerbate it. One thing at a time.

He pulled his phone out, opening the Uber app and ordering a Black car; then, he opened his texts and sent one out to Kenzie; telling her about the Gala, about his mother’s stylist, about the theme (the theme is you, angel).

Kenzie: That’s beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you did that.

Since you’re the only thing I can think about, it seemed natural. And he knew it was true. She was filling this thoughts and his heart and his senses; nothing else seemed to matter, not the show or the company or the app or his mother, not Uncle Bill (who would I will likely hear from soon, he thought, hand coming up to his jaw, and he won’t like this at all). The emptiness and shallowness of the work his mother had enveloped him in since he was barely out of high school suddenly overwhelmed him; beside the luminous, boundless, sublime emotion of Mackenzie, her glittering, effulgent reality, the rest of the world had lost its brightness; it was black and white, and she was made of colors he had never seen and couldn’t begin to describe.

He looked back down at his phone. Kenzie had replied.

Kenzie: I think those women from the coffee shop posted something on Instagram already. My coworker said something to me as soon as I got into the office.

Fuck, he thought, rapidly typing. She’s going to need a bodyguard. I don’t want to scare her, but that’s going to have to happen very soon. He sent her Samuel’s contact; he’d given Samuel hers earlier that day after they’d dropped her off at One Franklin Square. “Please help me keep her safe,” he’d asked Samuel, his eyes meeting the warm brown gaze of his chauffeur in the mirror; as they always did.

“You have my word, Mr. Shepherd.”

Kenzie: Okay, baby. I feel overwhelmed.

Duncan’s heart resounded painfully in his chest; oh god, baby, he thought. I want to hold you so much right now. I want to shield you from all of this. He thought of the tender, aching way she’d brought her little hand down to his cock that morning, her little moans as she stirred awake under his kisses. He longed to soothe her in his arms; the anticipation of waiting for tonight felt like a thousand tiny, sharp knives were pressing into his skin, jarring and disconcerting. He wanted to be alone with her; he wanted the world to melt away, turn its eyes from them. I’m here. Anything you need or want from me, tell me right away. This will get easier in time, baby. I promise. I’m already dreaming about how hard I’m gonna make you come tonight. At home.

Kenzie: I’m dreaming about you too, baby. She’d left a lipstick-stain emoji at the end; he shivered, looking down at it, his mind drifting back to her mouth around his length that morning, the kisses she’d pressed against him outside One Franklin Square, in view of two dozen people, and how he’d gripped her against him, unable to care; lost in her, immediately aching as she ran away from him.

He walked out onto the sidewalk in front of the Ritz-Carlton (“Have a pleasant day, Mr. Shepherd,” the doorman said cordially; holding it open for him, and Duncan gave him a nod, trying to maintain his mask of calm) and stepped into the car waiting for him in front of the hotel. He had a meeting with Melody and Seth that would take a few hours; he winced at the withering look he knew was coming from Melody in particular. Oh well. It all had to come out; it was coming out, and he’d just have to weather the anger and annoyance that was coming his way, weather the disapproval and disbelief. Kenzie deserved that from it; she deserved everything. His patience, his courage, his resolve, and his love.

He opened the Instagram app; he glanced at his mentions, wincing. There was one of the photos the woman had snapped; I look fucking pissed, he thought. Kenzie looks like an angel. He loved the way she was tucked under his arm in the photo; loved the fall of her hair against his leather jacket, her little hand around her necklace. She fits there as though that’s where she was always meant to be. The piece of me once cut away, and now reunited. And me; the piece of her, now wrapped around her again, as if some fateful prophecy has finally been fulfilled. I'm not going to let anything tear us apart now.

Duncan saw her handle in his mentions; @kenzielouwho. He smiled, gazing down at his phone screen. I love that. Her sweetness. He hit the follow button, scrolled through her pictures, goggling at them, his face alight. He double-tapped again and again; here she was, her lovely taste and her coordinated little outfits and plants and the moons and stars of her world, her hair falling like a cascade of gold, laughing at the camera, smiling next to Claire, grinning over plates of food, snapshots of sunsets and evening lights and cute animals she met, books she was reading, songs she was listening to. He felt overcome again; overcome with the affection he felt for her, overcome with how much her happiness affected him, how much he wanted to bring her the joy he saw in her face in the photos, how much he wanted to be the source of her comfort and her love. He couldn’t help it; I’d do anything for this woman. I’d do anything. He found the photo of her looking out from the table at the coffee shop, a little moon at her throat, her sweater falling off her shoulder; he left the pierced hearts at the bottom with a feeling of wild abandon. You’ve pierced not just my heart, but my soul, and your happiness is my happiness, your comfort my comfort, your joy my greatest joy. He wished she was here so he could press the words against her skin with his lips; press into her and breathe deep, breathe her into him. To be away from her was such sweet torture. Looking through her pictures made him feel like there were flowers blooming and closing in quick succession in the center of his chest. He felt completely overwhelmed by them; again, he felt overwhelmed by her realness, her reality; the fact that she existed was astonishing again and again. I never want to wake up from this dream.

He found the video that had been taken of them (oh god, that went up fast) and blushed at the ardency with which he clutched her in them. And I thought the other picture was obvious, he thought sheepishly. But in that moment it had felt like no one else was there. He’d forgotten the world entirely, lost in her eyes and the waist of her skirt on her hips and her bare arms and the way she’d looked up into his eyes, the way she fit against him. There hadn’t been anyone else there, he thought. Not really. It was only us. It was only Kenzie.

-----

Duncan stepped into Shepherd Hall towards the upstairs offices and the Beltway studio where he was supposed to meet Melody and Seth, glancing down as his phone echoed out its soft text chime; Mom.

Duncan Malcolm Shepherd. You’ve exacerbated this situation considerably. What the fuck were you thinking? Clearly you are infatuated and it’s making you behave like a drunk frat boy. I understand that public encounters are somewhat inevitable, but kissing this girl in front of a crowd is absolutely unacceptable. Your uncle is furious. I can only control him if you control yourself. Get yourself under fucking control, Duncan. Focus on our objectives.

Shit, he thought. Shit, meet fan. Fuck Uncle Bill. He’s dying and he’s bitter about it and he wants to make someone else suffer before he kicks it. And I’m not going to play into it. He didn’t reply. You know we’re together, Mom, he thought. I told you I love her. What else do you want from me? I’m not a fucking child. I’ll do what you want when it comes to the company, but not when it comes to her.

He took the back staircase up a floor to where the offices were; the studio was set up at the end of the hall. As he came through the doorway, he was met with the very annoyed gaze of Melody Cruz; his eyes glanced over to where Seth sat beside her, nervously focusing on the memo pad in front of him, eyes skirting between the two of them, then back down.

“Oh, hello, Duncan,” Melody simpered, plastering a painful-looking smile on her face. Murder, her eyes shot out at him. Stone cold murder. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence, I know how busy you are lately.”

“Melody. Seth.” Duncan ignored her tone, pulling the chair at the head of the rectangular table in the far corner of the studio out, sitting in it neatly, putting his phone face-down on the table in front of him, crossing one leg over the other, using all his will to keep his expression neutral; cool, calm, collected, impenetrable Duncan Shepherd. Everyone seemed hellbent on getting a rise out of him this morning; of all the people in his life he considered close, it seemed only Samuel was happy for his good fortune. Fine. Perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable to reevaluate the roles of others in his life in the first place. “Let’s go over everything for the taping tomorrow.”

“I guess you’re just going to pretend like you haven’t been making a total mockery lately of all the work we’ve done, then?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what the fuck you mean, Melody.”

Seth’s eyes fluttered between them again, licking his lips, clicking a pen nervously in one hand. “Um, everything’s fine, Melody, I’m...I’m sure there won’t be any effect on the show.”

“Are you fucking dense, Seth? Of course it will fucking affect the fucking show! Madeline Stone’s fuck-ing daugh-ter!” She slapped her hand against the edge of the table, enunciating sharply. “You think our audience is primarily comprised of intersectional feminists and people who buy cage-free eggs?”

“Melody, you’re out of line.” Duncan felt his temper rising; a temper that hadn’t really settled since Gretchen Friedrichs tried to blackmail him half an hour ago.

Melody went quiet, her eyes burning, her expression infuriated.

“I understand the reasons my relationship may be a shock to you--”

“You better fucking believe it’s a fucking shock. I’ve never known you to be one to even call back for a second date, let alone whatever it going on with you right now. What, you fucking love her?”

Duncan gazed at her; her dark eyes met his icy blue stare evenly. He felt his tendency towards manipulation and coercion begin to try to float to the surface of his composure; for a moment, he considered firing her. It’s what last week’s Duncan would have done, he thought, and strangely, he felt a nervous edge creep into his composure; he was rubbing a hand along his bottom lip before realized he was doing it, looking away from her. This Duncan had been unutterably shaken by a little gold angel in a black dress. This Duncan was not the same man who had last sat in this studio, last plotted out the trajectory of how best to unseat the sitting President of the United States, last given Melody sheets of propaganda to read on air. I’m not totally sure who this Duncan is, he thought; Melody still stared, her expression seeping into confusion at his metamorphosing reaction. I just know I don’t want the same things I wanted a few days ago. I want her. And I don’t care what anyone thinks of it. I care what she thinks first and how she feels first and I don’t care who her mother is and I don’t care how many times people see us kiss on the street and I don’t want to be away from her, not for all the money in the world, not for all the power, not for the world itself or a hundred worlds. And nothing any of you say is going to make me leave her.

“Yes. Melody. I love her.”

Melody scoffed, leaning her head back into the headrest of her swivel chair, crossing her arms under her chest, turning away from him. Once, long ago, when Melody had been an intern for Shepherd Unlimited, they’d slept together. It was a hasty, short-lived event; neither of them had even really undressed for it, and Duncan hadn’t been able to come; they’d both been drunk and she had pressed a hand suggestively against his crotch and the scotch in his blood had convinced him that it was a good idea and it wouldn’t matter the next day, the way the scotch in his blood had decided halfway through that his cock was ready to go to sleep. Neither of them had ever really mentioned it again; but Duncan knew that Melody had never really let it go. Not in words; it was always in looks. But he wasn’t sure if her anger really had all that much to do with who Kenzie’s mother was as it had to do with the fact that this girl, whoever she was, was the girl Duncan Shepherd had decided was the one for him, kissing her openly in the street, standing in line with her in coffee shops with his arm around her, holding her hand on the way to private rooms in posh French bistros, cameras be damned.

“I guess this is why you fucked up your interview so many times the other day,” she said icily. “Thinking about her perfect little pink pussy.”

“Melody.”

“Seth, give him the fucking outline.”

“Melody. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about that time.”

Melody’s eyes fell on him, shining; shocked.

“I’m truly sorry about that night. I appreciate you and the work you do immensely; I see the long hours you put into the show and Gardner Analytics. I haven’t told you that enough. I know that happened a long time ago, but it was stupid, and we should have talked about it after it happened, and we didn’t. I should have said something to you, apologized, and I didn’t. This apology is far too late, and my timing is terrible. But I am sorry.”

Seth was carefully drawing circles on his memo pad; he pretended to look at his phone, as if engrossed in whatever he saw there, but Duncan could see how rigid his body was.

Melody continued to stare at him, not speaking. He uncrossed his legs and sat up; sat with his arms resting on his knees. He cleared his throat a little.

“I know it’s not convenient. But the truth is, I love Mackenzie Stone. It wasn’t expected; it wasn’t planned. It happened. Annette knows, and she knew before the video and the photo from today. I understand your hesitation and your concern for the future of Gardner Analytics and the show. But the reality is, my relationship will continue regardless of whether or not you approve of it; whether or not anyone approves of it who isn’t Mackenzie or me. But I am sorry, Melody. I respect you deeply as a friend and as a coworker. And I’m sorry my apology took so long.”

Melody bit her bottom lip, and he could see her arms clenching against her torso where she had them crossed. Then, she looked down at the folder in front of her, opened it, and passed him the sheet of paper on top.

“Outline for Episode 153.”

Duncan nodded, reaching for the paper, pulling it toward him, as Melody blew out a long breath, and began her overview.

--------

It was after 6 by the time Duncan left Shepherd Hall; he looked down at his phone (he hadn’t for hours as they went over the episode--as this one was supposed to be about President Underwood’s thus far very public breakdown, it had to be flawless) as Seth and Melody walked away from him. Melody had looked over her shoulder, giving him a strange look that he couldn’t decipher, then waved shortly, turning away--it gave him the feeling that something minute and ever-present had been vaguely fixed between them, though. Kenzie and Samuel had texted him; Samuel’s was at the top, more recent, so he saw it first: Mr. Shepherd, Miss Mackenzie is safely at home. If you need my services, I am now available to you.

Yes, please, Samuel. I’m at Shepherd Hall. I need to go to Tiffany’s.

Samuel responded right away. Very good, Mr. Shepherd. I will be there in ten minutes.

He scrolled down to the text from baby, angel, beloved

Kenzie: There were a bunch of reporters waiting outside the building when I tried to leave work. My boss helped me through the back door, but two of them still found me. Thankfully Samuel was there, but I think they got me on camera. I don’t know who they were with. I’m okay. Samuel was wonderful. I’ll be so relieved to see you, baby.

Oh, no, he thought, his heart sinking. Someone beat buzzpopfeed to their info. He knew how clever people could be online; they found the tiniest clues and used them to sleuth vast swaths of information (once, a fan on Instagram had zoomed in on every toiletry behind him in a selfie he’d drunkenly taken in his bathroom and made a list of “Duncan Shepherd’s Go-To Grooming Must Haves”, which was published by a gossip site soon after). Seeing Kenzie run into One Franklin Square on camera was a dead giveaway, and he raked a hand through the curls at the side of his face in frustration. That was so fucking stupid of me. I should never have gotten out of the car after her. I should have controlled myself. And now people are trying to molest her at work. That’s my fucking fault. He wondered if it was buzzpopfeed that had found Kenzie on the opposite side of her building; they were notorious for breaking into private residences and crossing police lines, inventing elaborate scenarios to get onto upper hotel floors where they knew celebrities were staying, and wearing hidden cameras. That’s just the sort of shit they’d do, he thought. And if they got her on camera I don’t doubt it’ll be on their site soon.

He thought about going to the site to check, but stopped himself. I’m sure I’ll get another angry text soon enough from Mom if there’s something new, he told himself. And what, she’ll be angry at Kenzie for trying to leave work. As if there was an alternative.

But Mom: she’s easy to love. She’s so lovely. When you meet her, how could you not see it? Mom, I love her. You’ll see why; and then, you can’t tell me what I’m doing is wrong. Then you won’t be able to say I’m making a mistake.

The thought was like one he would have had when he was a child; lost in the orb of his mother, always admiring her, always certain with an unshakable conviction that she was right. Always sure that she knew what was best. The innocence of the thought struck him; even if he knew now that his mother was far from perfect, and that her intentions were often underhanded, he couldn’t shake the hope that she would warm to Kenzie in time. The alternative was unthinkable.

Samuel pulled up, Ella drifting quietly from the interior: your daddy’s rich, and your mamma’s good-lookin’...so hush little baby...baby, don’t you cry...Duncan pulled the door open, letting the warm evening air drift over him and push his hair back, a strange wave of nostalgia washing over him; a mixture of sadness and hopeful longing. If such a wonderful, fateful thing could happen to him; meeting her at all, finding her at all, in a world of so many people walking past each other every day without a second glance, surely the miracle of his mother accepting and loving her could, too, come to pass. O Fortune, like the Moon of ever-changing fate, ever waxing, ever waning...where had he heard that before? The line echoed in his mind as Samuel pulled away from the curb, and they were both silent, a quiet understanding passing between them; Duncan nodded to Samuel through the mirror; thank you. Thank you for taking care of my Kenzie today. Samuel’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light; seemed to him like twin moons in a black sky.

I’m so glad you’re okay, baby, he texted Kenzie. I’ll be home soon. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms.

------

An hour later, Duncan stepped out of the BMW in front of his high-rise with a very distinct blue box tucked carefully under his arm; his eyes glided up to the 30th floor, where he knew he could sometimes see into the long window of his penthouse if the light was right in the evening. He could see the reading lamps near the window were turned low; could see the reflection of light coming from where the kitchen and dining room were to the north end of building, but he couldn’t see Kenzie; she wasn’t near the window, it seemed. An almost-vanished sliver of moon hung over it, like the rind of a melon devoured. He walked quickly into the building, anxious to be near her; the doorman, Jerry, nodded to him with familiarity. “Mr. Shepherd, fine night.”

“It really is, Jerry, hey,” Duncan moved past him, giving Anchaly a nod. Anchaly gave him a knowing smile; his copy of Tropic of Cancer catching Duncan’s eye for a moment. “Enchanting,” Anchaly said as he walked past, eyeing the blue box under his arm. “She walks in beauty, like the night / of cloudless climes and starry skies--” Duncan grinned at him, heading to the elevators, feeling flushed. “And all that’s best of dark and bright / meet in her aspect and her eyes,” he finished, as the doors slid open.

“Just so,” Anchaly agreed, and turned back to his book.

Duncan looked at himself in the long mirror as it climbed, unaware that Kenzie had done the same only a few short hours before; his hand pressed along the smooth line of his leather jacket, only just now remembering he’d worn the same clothes for two days. He sniffed his armpit carefully; not too bad, considering. He ran a nervous hand through his hair; still nervous, he wondered. Still trembling to behold her grace. I hope that feeling never fades. I don’t know how it could. He thought of how she’d looked clutched against him in this mirror, in that haze of their first night together; how it had made his cock throb, his nerves set on fire, her little body pressed to him, his hands in her hair. He felt his cock growing hard now, pressing with urgency into the lining of his tailored slacks (her little tongue in my mouth, her little nipples in my fingers, my hand between her legs, her laugh, her smile, the light falling on her); he ran his fingers along the edge of the blue box, swallowing carefully, pressing a thumb along his jaw. The doors slid open, achingly, seemingly impossibly slow. He walked to his own door, heart thumping wildly, as though it belonged to her now; it’s because I belong to her now, he thought. And I’m happy to obey her every whim.

He used the second keycard he carried in his wallet to unlock the door; it was usually tucked into the inner lining of his wallet, but he’d moved it to the spot where the old one used to be in his billfold; the one that now belonged to her. As Duncan opened the familiar doorway of his apartment, warm, wonderful smells enveloped him; food smells, lovely and enticing and comforting.

“Kenzie?”

She emerged to his left; from the dining room, a room he never used, a room that would be gathering dust but for the housekeepers’ attentions. Kenzie’s face looked tired; there were small dark circles under her wide hazel eyes, and her cheeks were pale, but her lips were pink (like roses), as if rosy from hot liquid; she was wearing a little slip dress that fell almost to the floor, one of the straps falling down her arm, and its color reminded him of wine grapes firming on twisting vines. Her neck was bare and her hair fell around her shoulders, catching the light of the diamond-drop chandelier.

“Hey, baby,” she said quietly, and her eyes seemed dark again as they stared at each other for a long moment; green and bronze. “Hi.”

He put the blue box down on the stand by the front door, his eyes not moving from her face.

“Baby...” he whispered. He closed the distance between them, his hand coming behind her head and cradling it, the other falling down her cheek and neck to her shoulder and down her arm, feeling insistently, hungrily, with terrible relief. She fell into him with urgency, her hands grasping the lapels of his jacket with tight little fingers, her mouth opening to him with need. They stood this way for a moment that felt like an eon, a lifetime, pressing into each other, lost in the solace of each other; he thought again that he’d be happy to die now, breathing into her. She lifted her mouth away a little and he tried to follow her; “baby, today was the strangest day,” she whispered into him, closing her eyes, face lifted up to him, hands pressing up his arms.

“I’m so sorry I followed you out of the car--” he started, his voice tinged with the remorse he felt, tinged with regret.

“I’m not.” She looked into his eyes, her little body sighing. “I’m glad you did. Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

He smiled; his hands fell through her hair and down the small of her back, loving the smooth feeling of the dress through his fingers, the silky strands of her. He turned his face, kissing the corner of her mouth; he moved his lips so they trailed along her bottom lip, biting a little, sucking gently, and he was thrilled at the moan that seeped out of her, her eyes fluttering.

“I got something for you.” He stepped away from her, gently gripping her hand and pulling her along with him, towards where he’d left the blue box on the stand by the door. He stroked the contours of her knuckles and fingers for a moment as she glanced at the box, her face curious; then, with a small burst of excitement scattering through her eyes. He handed it to her with both hands, stepping close. “Oh, Duncan,” she murmured, looking up into his eyes again, making him shiver with the devotion he felt, frozen in her gaze.

She pulled at the white ribbon around it, the black lettering emerging from underneath it; Tiffany & Co. He took the ribbon gently so she could lift the lid, and as her eyes fell on what was inside, the little laugh of delight that escaped her filled his heart with tenderness that made him want to press his face to her neck. Inside the box was a platinum necklace on a long chain; the charm at the end of it was a crescent moon set with brilliant round diamonds, which immediately threw their glow against her face, under her eyes. “A moon,” she whispered.

“The moon on a string, for you,” he replied, grasping her hand again, pressing his thumb over it. “My beloved.”

“It’s perfect. It’s too much--” Her eyes took on that overwhelmed glimmer; he shook his head, pulling her mouth onto his again, shushing her worry.

“It’s not. It’s not nearly enough. I wish I could pull the real moon down and give it to you.”

She grinned into his lips. “That’s beautiful. But I don’t know what I’d do with the moon all to myself. The world needs her. I love her best where she is.”

“Of course you would say something like that,” he whispered into her, his thumb brushing a gently trail from her cheek to her earlobe, twisting a strand of golden-brown hair through his fingers.

“Like what?”

“Something so lovely, and so kind, and gentle.”

Her eyelids fluttered downwards as she blushed; he could feel her shaking a little under his touch. He gently lifted the necklace from the box, and he reached out with his long fingers, pressing the index of his left hand into the hollow of her throat, trailing it there.

“May I?”

She nodded, her green-tinted eyes staring at him again, her mouth open ever-so-little. She lifted her hair and turned, exposing the whiteness at the back of her throat, the bumps of her spine and the incline of her shoulder blades above the dip of the dress; he resisted the urge to kiss her there, later, and unclasped the hook, lifting it around her head, his fingers brushing against her with longing as he clasped it at the nape of her neck. She turned around again, facing him, a sweet smile playing at the corners of her lips; “how do I look,” she asked, her eyes falling into him.

“Like an angel,” he said, hands against her shoulders, fingers trailing. “Like a goddess.” And she did to him; the soft light on her skin and her hair, dazzling against the little round diamonds in the crescent moon, the shape of her little breasts pressing against the soft velvet of the lilac-colored dress. “You look like Persephone, goddess of spring.”

A strange look came into Kenzie’s eyes; one of a dawning realization, or a familiar deja vu; she brought her little hands to his cheeks, trailing them softly along the stubble on his jaw, onto the bottom of his lip; he pressed his mouth against her fingers, closing his eyes.

“Then that makes you my Hades, God of Wealth, King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dark Places.”

“Spooky.”

She giggled.

“Thank you, baby. I love it so much. I love you...so much.”

“I love you too, Kenzie. I love you.” He opened his eyes again to her; everything I have is yours now, he thought. Everything is for you. All of me.

“Come have dinner.” She smiled mischievously, pulling back from him. She held his hand and pulled him through the doorway into the room he never used; its centerpiece was the long cherrywood dining table that once belonged to Duncan’s great-grandfather, a piece passed down to him by his mother when he moved into his penthouse years ago. Kenzie had found one of the linen tablecloths packed away in the drawers of the darkwood sliding-door china cabinet Duncan never touched; it was carefully tucked around the table, and on it was a lovely spread; she’d moved some of the pillar candles from the coffee table into this room, lighting them in the center, and their warm glow dazzled into his eyes, making them tear.

“I made chicken and dumplings,” he heard Kenzie say softly. “It’s one of my favorites, my mom always made it for me when I was growing up, especially after she’d had a particularly hard day; now, to me, it’s always comfort food.” His eyes roved hungrily over the spread she’d created; his favorite shallow cooking pot full of fluffy dumplings covered in speckled parsley, and steamy, bright chicken stew; another platter had smoky tendrils of broccoli rabe, and a third had an array of colorful root vegetables, yellow beets and dark orange chopped carrots and purple turnips.

“Kenzie, this is wonderful,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you for cooking for me. I’m so happy you did this for me.”

“I wanted to,” she said, shyly, the diamonds around her neck catching the light, her cheeks, pale when his eyes had first fallen on her, now glowing with her emotions and the touch of his fingers. “I wanted to make you something because you’ve been so wonderful...because you’ve made me feel so wonderful…”

“Kenzie, baby,” he couldn’t stop, he pulled her into him again, aching, his body shuddering into her, his lips falling along the side of her face, and she sighed into him, “God, I missed you so much today, I wanted to see you so much…”

“I felt the same way baby, I’m so happy you’re home--”

He pulled her hand up to his face, kissing her open palm with terrible softness, overcome.

“I’m starving,” he said, grinning at her, and she smiled back (my moonlight), kissing him, nodding, saying “Me too, let’s eat, let’s eat.”

-------

Over the dinner Kenzie had created for him, Kenzie told him about everything that had happened to her after she ran into One Franklin Square; “Ben Wilder is basically the Annette Shepherd of the Washington Post,” she said to him, her eyes flashing. “Everyone is terrified of him, and he demanded I get you to give him an interview. It’s impossible to hide any modicum of gossip from him.”

“I’ll give him an interview,” Duncan said between mouthfuls of Kenzie’s savory chicken and dumplings. God, this girl can cook. I can’t wait for us to cook something together, he thought. I can’t wait for us to cook together for so many nights to come. He watched her eyes goes dark with surprise at his words. “...You will?” He watched her fingers fall to the diamond moon hanging at her beautiful throat; Kenzie, baby, I love your fingers there, I love your fingers, my little moon, my Persephone--

“Of course.”

“Duncan, I work for The Washington Post.”

He laughed a little, drinking down a mouthful of the Grand Cru he’d opened for them, bringing the bottle over to him, pouring more into his crystal glass, pouring some into hers carefully. “Kenzie. I know.”

“So...how is that going to be okay with your mother?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”

Her eyes shone out at a him from where she sat across from him; he was at the head of the beautiful cherrywood table, and she was sitting in the seat to his left, facing the doorway to the kitchen, her little face soft in the candlelight.

“Okay,” she said, and the smile that spread over her cheeks was like the blush of spring flowers in the rain. He reached over to her; her fingers curled through his, and the energy that passed between them was like the rolling crash of thunder over an open plain; wide and intense and open and circling down into the cores of their bodies, through the fingers that touched. They gazed at each other for a moment, hands tightly together. Then, Kenzie grasped her wine glass in her little slender fingers, stood, and, still clasping his hand against hers, said, “I seem to recall a bold claim from this morning.”

He looked up at her; she glowed, and his breath fell away from him.

“A certain Prince of the Underworld, he of vast fortune and troves of gold and black flowers with silver stems, told me he was going to make me come...so...fucking...hard.”

Duncan smiled; smiled with an all-encompassing happiness that pierced into the center of him, one that made him want to scream with its intensity; he let go of her (I don’t want to) and wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin at his lap, but as he stood, she moved away from him, gazing coyly into his eyes as she did, over her shoulder, cradling the wine glass against her; come and get me, her eyes whispered. His groin shuddered with a coiled sort of agony and he pulled his own wine glass with him, languidly, following her slowly, leaning against the door to watch her move through the kitchen and the wide front room, flipping the light switch so they were bathed in darkness, as she moved towards where the long glass window stretched, its blank face gazing down on the city lights; the silky movement of the dress against her back and her ass, one of the straps falling down again, the incline of her breast almost completely visible to him, the waves of her hair down her back; Duncan imagined flowers tangled in the strands, peonies like the little flowers on the glass of water he’d pulled in her hand, roses like the roses on the balcony and in the bathtub, the candles clustered around them, her body hovering over him in the water, her fingers clutching at his stubble.

She gazed out onto the city, quietly, lost in her own thoughts again, it seemed; he felt like he could almost see the gentle cascade of her thoughts in this moment, the hazy warmth of the wine spreading through her, the pain and confusion of the day fading and spreading down into the city, away from them; he put this moment, looking at her, bathed in a soft glow, into the memories of her he would always cherish, always have locked in his heart. He watched as she sipped the wine, the crystal edge of the glass reflecting the golden helmet of Pallas Athena beside her.

“You know,” she said, as he moved towards her, carefully, “today, after I got here, I looked at your home for a long time. Its energy. Its spirit.”

“What did you see?” He couldn’t remove the longing from his voice; everything I want, everything I need, he thought. It’s you. Only you. He came up against the other side, against the wall of his study; he leaned against it, his arm propped up, trying to look out at the capital city’s glow; but his eyes turned to her, almost involuntary, lost in her.

She dipped her head down for a moment, thoughtful, her eyes to the steep incline of the ground, thirty stories down; the crystal glass glinted in her hand again, throwing stardust against her cheek.

“That you love art and beauty. That you love books. That you love the strength of women; the strength and yes, the beauty, and the beauty of men, too, I think. I think so. And that you have a great and hidden depth in you, Duncan Shepherd, one that perhaps not everyone around you sees; one that you hold secret, pressed against your heart.”

He kept his eyes on her. She turned to him, dazzling, soft, and he noticed her wine glass was almost empty now.

“I think you really are like the God of the Underworld; a prince on a cold throne. And I think you need a Queen made of Light who sees the light in you. And I think I am her.”

She stepped away from him once more; looking over her shoulder again, setting the crystal glass next to Athena, a swirl of red still in the bottom, moving on to the soft, low light of the bedroom. His breath seemed caught in his chest; he put his own glass, a little wine left in it, an offering, next to Nike, whom he stood near; bring me Victory, blessed Nike, whence I toil like the bees, you bring me honey--

As he entered the bedroom (quiet black sheets, the cover thrown back) he saw her pushing the dress from her shoulders, stepping out of it; she was naked underneath, and his nerves thrilled to realize she had been naked underneath it since he came home; thrilled at the secret she’d held that he had not realized, but she left the necklace on, the moon made of diamonds, and Kenzie looked over her shoulder at him, her long lashes languid as she laid down on the bed, sighing into it, bending one of her knees so her thigh fell over her sex, hidden from him just a little, her face turned to where he stood there at the door, leaning against it, staring over her.

Kenzie moved her legs apart, her sweet little sex opening to him, reminding him of that first night, days ago--

He pulled his jacket off quickly, about to pull his shirt off just as quick--but she murmured “slow, baby, I wanna watch you,” and he slowed himself; anything you want, angel, he thought. Whatever you want, now and always, and as he unbuckled his belt, now shirtless, he watched her little fingers go down between her legs and rub at her little clit, her mouth falling open.

“Baby, stop,” he said, firmly.

Her eyes widened at him; her finger paused its circles at her core.

“Put your hands up above your head. Against the headboard.”

Her eyes went darker; that glow, forest-green, haunting. Kenzie lifted her hands up, grasping onto the slats above her. Her mouth was still open, lips parted just a little, her breath coming out in tiny, quiet gasps.

“I’m gonna make you come.”

He watched the shiver fall down her body, starting at her shoulder, through her torso, her hips, her legs, to her toes. She gripped the slats harder, opening her mouth a little more. He pushed his pants and his briefs off his body, staring at her, his cock falling against his fingers for a moment, making him moan, and then he reached down and picked up his belt where he had dropped it; he let it hang carefully down from his hand for a moment, watched her eyes travel over it, a mixture of desire and apprehension in them, then he climbed onto the bed, between her legs; he didn’t touch her, but she wrapped her legs around his thighs, the head of his cock brushing for a second against the open lips of her sex, and they both shuddered. He lifted his arms up and pressed the smooth leather strap against her little wrists; she let out a moaning little cry that made his heart feel as thought it was going to burst out of him, but he concentrated on the task at hand; he wrapped the straps around two of the slats, buckling them together behind it, pulling the strap tight against her, not too tight, but enough to make it so she couldn’t move her wrists out of the belt; he watched her hands flex for a moment, and then he looked down into her wide hazel eyes; she nodded to him, eyes fluttering, and he moved his long hands down her arms, fingers closing over her round breasts and gripping the diamond moon above her breasts for a moment, down further as he moved his body back, hands on her waist and now her hips and now her thighs, pushing then further apart; he saw the little tears glittering in the corners of her eyes, felt the shiver of her body under his hot hands.

“Is it okay, baby?” he whispered, hesitating.

“Yes, baby, yes,” she whimpered, an edge in her voice that made him shake. “Yes, fuck, yes…”

He moved his head down to hover just above her folds, above the lip of her clit; his hair fell over his forehead, brushing her belly, the dip of her bellybutton; she shivered, crying out again; then he pressed his lips into her, his tongue laving out to urge against her core; he looked up as he did, watching her arms resist the constraint of his belt holding her for a moment, tight on her wrists, pressing into her skin, her little mouth stretching in need; “Duncan, fuck, ohhhh--”

“You like being tied up like that, baby?” he whispered, then he pressed his tongue against her again, long and slow and aching, and her hips bucked into him, and she let out a little shuddering cry that made him painfully hard, made his cock jump against the sheet.

“Y-y-es, baby, yes…”

He brought one of his large, long hands up, fingers curling; then he brought it down suddenly, a soft but sharp little slap onto the sensitive slit between her legs, and she cried out again, leather pressing into her little wrists.

“Did you like that?”

“Yes.” The tears glimmered in her eyes again; her cheeks were rosy, and he could see her pussy slowly turning dark pink from his attentions. “Yes. Do it again, baby.”

He lifted his hand again, his palm and fingers flat; this time he brought his hand down again, harder this time, slapping her clit with a rough immediacy.

“Fuuuuck, fuck!” Kenzie moaned. “Please, suck my clit, baby…”

Duncan leaned down, eagerly, his lips closing around the bud of her; he sucked deeply, carefully, his tongue swirling over her, and he felt her hips buck into him again, her moans strangled and needy and unwinding.

“Kenzie, I’m gonna make you come hard,” he whispered into her, his breath making her buck into him again, and again, her mouth a little O, her wrists shaking, “and then I’m gonna make you come again after that.”

“O-okay, baby,” and her voice was shuddering, high, driving him into white feelings of madness.

He worked his tongue against her again, and his fingers came up; he pressed two, his index and middle fingers, into the wet core of her body, curling them, flexing back and forth, his lips sucking into her clit again. She cried out again; “Baby, I am gonna fucking c-cu-um,” and he kept his mouth pressed heavily into her clit as she shuddered under him, his fingers still buried inside her pussy as her wetness fell against them, moisture gathering between the spaces of his digits, sweet-smelling and thick. She continued to shudder for some time; he laid his head gently into her abdomen, his fingers coming out of her, soaked with her, his hands pressing into her jutting hipbones, tracing them and leaving traces of wetness and his lips pressed into her skin, ignoring his own hardness, his own need, for the moment.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking godddd,” Kenzie moaned, and he looked up; tears coursed down her cheeks and her shoulders were shaking. Her hands were still clamped in the confines of his tight leather belt; he leaned up, reaching behind the slats, untying it, tossing it aside, gently grasping her wrists, bringing his lips to where they’d left red marks on her, kissing her tenderly.

“Are you okay, baby,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whimpered, though tears still coursed from her eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m gonna fuck you again now. And you’re gonna come for me again.”

Her eyes opened wide, wide from their fluttering, hazy half-lids; she gasped a little, and then she nodded, and she whispered “yes, baby, my Prince, fuck me hard now.”

He pulled her up, gripping her under her arms; “come here, baby, come with me,” he whispered, and her little naked body slipped off the bed as he pulled her, and he kissed her with his mouth open with fierce admonition, fingering the diamond moon at her breast in his large elegant hand and she lifted herself up to him and her tongue tangled against his and as he pulled her towards him he saw a glitter of moisture that slipped down her leg from her release. He gripped her hand tightly, pulling her from the bedroom; he led her to the window, his glass window, surveying all of the city, a wall of glass, and he pressed her hands against it tenderly in the darkness, the only light now shining below them, his mouth open under her ear, his body pressed against her back and her thighs, his cock hard between her legs, brushing against her cunt, sensitive and soaking wet, and she moaned again, her eyes looking back at him for a moment, then back at the lights below as his large hand came around her throat and he pressed his length into her, his other hand coming around to her clit, rubbing insistently.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” he whispered into her ear as he fucked her, raw and rough and with wild desire, and her little mouth hovered over the glass, her breath cascading in clouds against it, her fingers curling where they were pressed, fingers splayed, her knees buckling just a little against him, her ass moving back to press into him as his fingers bored into her core and pressed harshly into her neck, her hips moving against him, her feel tip-toed to reach up to his height, her eyes looking out, glancing up at their reflection over her shoulder. “Almost as beautiful as you are, but nothing is, no one is, nobody is as beautiful as you are, Kenzie, my angel--” Duncan could see the outline of them there too, in the reflection, his hair tossed against his forehead, his mouth open in a mixture of lust and concentration, her wide eyes turned up almost into her head as she gasped, and he moved the hand from her neck to twist around her chestnut hair, pulling it tight, bringing her head back with a soft jerk, and she moaned “oh goddd--” and ground against him again, ground down onto him so he was completely buried inside her. His index finger was grinding circles into the side of her clit; he moved it down to where moisture was dripping down her leg, dripping down the length of his cock as he pulled in and out of her, and gathered it on his finger, bringing it back to her clit, soaking wet--

“Baby, I’m--I’m gonna come again, I’m gonna--”

This time, Kenzie’s little body rocked back onto him, her fingers clenching into fists on the glass, her cunt spasming down onto his length with a force that brought stars behind his eyes, and he watched the glitter of the diamonds at her neck reflect in the glass. “Fu-u-uuck my pussy, fuck my little cunt with your big cock,” Kenzie cried out, and he lifted out of her and plunged back, feeling the vague outline of her cervix brushing his head; then, Kenzie screamed; she screamed and her body began to shake, to vibrate against him, the lips of her so far down on his cock that they brushed against his balls, and he felt another cascade of moisture seep out of her, this one more intense than the first, dripping down his testicles in rivulets, and he shuddered a hallucinatory release into her that made him blind for a moment, his cock immediately sensitive and painful with its intensity, his voice crying out “Fuck, fuuuck, I wanna be inside you forever, Kenzie, goddess, I wanna fuck you until I die--”

They leaned heavily into each other for a moment; her cunt spasming up onto his cock, his cock shuddering into tenderness inside her; then he pulled out and Kenzie slid, weakly, to the floor, breathing heavily, her little breasts shuddering.

“Oh baby, are you alright--” Duncan immediately crouched to her, avoiding the sensitive area between his thighs, his eyes widening with alarm; he tucked a hand around the crook of her neck, the other hand coming around her waist and holding her up as he gently pushed her head towards him; her breathing was heavy and her eyes fluttered once more, half in and half out of consciousness. He pressed his fingers against her cheek softly, tapping it a little; her eyes trembled open, and the look she gave him was one of supple, dream-like trust.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered. “Oh, Duncan.” Her eyes hovered between opening and closing; her breath slowed, and she murmured “I’m so sleepy, baby,” and they closed and she was hovering there in his arms, breathing softly, lost in her post-coital euphoria.

Duncan pressed a kiss to her cheek; he hovered there, breathing in the smell of her skin, then he hitched his arm around the back of her knees and the other around her shoulders, and he picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom and onto the bed, where he pulled the sheets and the duvet over her little body; my poor angel, my poor sweet baby, he thought. I have to talk to her about a bodyguard tomorrow, I know she won’t want one, but I have to convince her it’s for the best, god, I have to. He watched the shadow of her eyelashes against her cheek, the slow breath that moved her body under the blanket, the slow shadow of her heartbeat against her throat. Then he moved towards the bathroom; his groin was still soaked in her release, his cock still throbbing as he came down from his orgasm; he went to one of the drawers under the bathroom sink to get the wet wipes he always stored there (a million uses) and paused, his heart in his mouth, as he saw her little toiletries lined along one side of the sink, the side he’d cleared for her; his on the left, hers on the right. The dark red bottle of her perfume; he pulled it over to him and brought his nose to the nozzle, breathing in; roses, vetiver, geranium, and his body sighed into the smell, the smell that was her. A little black hairbrush rested on the edge of the sink; strands of her chestnut hair glinting in it. A little eyeliner stick, a tube of lipstick, a stick of mascara, a bottle of face wash. All her little things, the little pieces of her. His immaculate grooming supplies were on the opposite side, spotless and still; hers threw warmth into the space, made his cheeks blush; he wanted to touch everything, kiss each of her belongings, memorize their shape. Duncan felt overcome again; it was as if her things had always been missing before, leaving a Kenzie-shaped hole, one he didn’t know existed, but could feel, somewhere in his hidden heart. And now, they weren’t missing anymore. Here they were. He could reach out and touch them, like he could reach out and touch the smooth contour of her skin, the waves of her hair, where she slept in his bed. Our bed, he thought, smoky desire drifting, cleaning himself up, shivering as the cold wipe touched his still-sensitive cock; using another one under his arms, at the back of his neck. Our bathroom. Our apartment. I’m going to ask her to move in with me. How can I keep her safe if she isn’t here with me? How can I sleep without her now? He imagined reporters hounding her as she tried to leave for work in the morning; imagined people trying to get into her apartment building at night, trying to look in her windows. The thought absolutely chilled him. I’ll ask her. I want to soothe the worry I saw in her eyes tonight. I don’t want her to worry about anything, or anyone. And I don’t want to sleep alone anymore.

Duncan left the bathroom, naked, flipping the light-switch, but not before one long, last glance at Kenzie’s little things on the sink; he smiled, his heart full. He turned towards the closet, eyes falling over Kenzie where she slept again; she was breathing slowly now, far away, the diamonds still glinting at her throat; he went to her softly, unclasping the necklace at the nape of her neck, gently lifting it away from her so she wouldn’t wake, pressing the softest, lightest of kisses into her cheek, his heart on fire. He put it on the side-table, noticing her phone there; it was turned over so he could see its gold case and the moon sticker on it, fading away from use; he trailed one finger over it, lovingly, then turned and walked into his closet. Duncan bent to the drawer, in search of sweatpants, but he stopped, noticing the little outfits that now hung in the space he’d cleared for them; her clothes in my closet--our closet, he thought, and looked down on the shelf below, where there were a few other things stacked in a row; a little black bag, some little moon and star jewelry. Her little things. His chest swelled with longing; he wanted all of her things here, all of her, kissing him, blessing him; he longed not to be greedy, not to ask too much of her too soon, but he thought again of paparazzi outside her house and his mind clouded with concern, resolving to ask her in the morning. He pulled on the sweatpants, wincing as the waistband brushed against his cock, then, he moved out towards the kitchen (he paused, eyes falling on her hair tossed over the pillow tenderly, her little hand clutched against her mouth) and into the dining room, to clean up the dishes.

#millory #millory au #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd au #house of cards au #michael x mallory #duncan x mackenzie #duncan shepherd x mackenzie stone #duncan shepherd x mallory #cody fern #billie lourd #cody x billie #collie #ahs apocalypse #body and soul #body and soul au #my fic

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