#also sorry for the long response i JUST woke up and my brain is swirling rn

[satellitedusterart]

How do you get your drawing ideas? My head is so empty all the time.

1. usually, from other pieces of art! paintings, poems, written stories, music, animation, tv shows, etc! i make a habit of saving anything that inspires me, or interests me, or reminds me of an OC/storyworld. it doesn't always push me to draw, but it does help get me thinking about a character and what i could do with them. something in particular i'll do is save a post, an image, a video, even a song if the mood fits, and add a small blurb to Put a more concrete image or idea in my head. that way, when i actually get to drawing, it comes back to me quicker and i'll have an easier time drawing more in the process!

[also worth saying i keep a disturbingly extensive discord server where i save all of these ideas. so everyday im essentially praying that discord doesn't go down or explode forever <3]

2. writing! not just plot stuff, but journal writing helps me get a lot of ideas on paper, whether through sheer mental spewing, or ruminating on a topic, or just pure exploration. there's a common experience among OC artists on here in which they develop their characters better when they talk about them to a friend/a server/ etc, and frankly, that's where alot of my own developmental work has been done! [shoutout to my friends also for listening to me ramble about my lil guys here and there. mwah]

3. this is less of an answer and more of advice, but i don't draw every idea that i get, i don't write down every idea that comes to me, and i don't always get inspired from the things that i like. sometimes you have to wait for inspiration to strike, and in the meantime, let life come to you as it may until it does! take pictures, watch a new show, listen to a new musician, go through some old art and try remaking something you like, study something that you've been meaning to work on, do something different that you might enjoy!

tl;dr i try and engage with a lot of art that i like, i talk to myself more than is probably healthy, and i tend to write down drawing ideas more than i actually draw! all this means is i won't run out for a long time :3 and i wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, anon! art is a challenge, and i don't back away from one if i can help it! 💜

[emeren]

zoom call- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: smut, 18+, very slight degradation, voyeurism if you squint (not really though)

notes: i wrote this a couple months back before that video went viral on tik tok, but it was the only completed draft i had, so here we go! very rushed but hope you enjoy :) (also my first time writing smut lol) 

SUMMARY: eren is a little shit when it comes to letting you focus on your zoom classes, especially when you make it obvious you’re trying to ignore him

you lazily rubbed your eyes in response to the bright computer screen. the eight thirty lecture time was starting to wear down on your motivation. you sat, half asleep in front of your laptop, gaze drearily focused on the professor’s face. 

school had become utterly disengaging; hours spent scrolling through your phone and blatantly ignoring your professors. you briefly wondered if class was really worth it at all anymore. 

as your professor began to delve into their lecture on calculus, you could hear your boyfriend in the other room as he began to stir awake. you felt pretty bad, in all honesty. for as long as you’d known eren, he’d made it obvious that he loved nothing more than to sleep in. no matter how quiet you tried to be, it seemed like you woke him up earlier than he wanted every single morning. 

you cringed as you heard the bedroom door creak open, followed by the sound of his muffled footsteps. 

double checking that your mic and camera were indeed off, you turned to see your boyfriend standing sleepily in the doorway. his hair was down and messy; body only adorning a pair of grey sweatpants that sat tantalizingly low on his hips. his teal eyes were squinted with a tired annoyance. 

“sorry, did i wake you up again?” you whispered, despite the fact that no one on the zoom call could hear you. eren’s face creased into a frown at the question. 

“yeah, but s’alright,” he responded, voice thick with slumber. you offered an apologetic smile before turning back to your lecture. eren quietly left the room as you resulted to writing down some half-hearted notes, your brain absently drifting towards your plans for the weekend. 

about ten minutes had passed when you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, eren’s lips meeting your cheek in a morning greeting. 

his minty breath fanned across your face; you could see that he’d pulled his hair back into a messy knot from his reflection on the computer screen. though his warm gesture made your stomach erupt in butterflies, you were determined to pay attention to the class in front of you. eren took notice. 

“trying to stay focused, hm?” he mumbled as his mouth began to trail down to your neck, peppering the skin with light kisses. you groaned in slight annoyance, attempting to push him away.

“i need to take notes, eren,” you reprimanded. eren didn’t seem so easily swayed, however. 

his mouth found its way back to your neck, beginning to gently suck on the soft skin. you felt your face warm up at the sensation, an all too familiar ache between your legs. curse your boyfriend for being so goddamn horny all the time. 

“go ahead, m’not stopping you,” eren whispered hotly against the skin. you bit your lip as you tried to remain focused on whatever your teacher was talking about, but the words were going in one ear and out the other.

his warm lips began to shift down towards your collarbone and the place where your shirt interrupted the flow of bare, kissable flesh. 

eren’s large hand ran smoothly over the expanse of your right arm before coming up to cup your breast and giving it a generous squeeze. his nimble fingers pinched at your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, causing you to emit a low moan. your eyes snapped to his face in embarrassment over the noise.

eren had a smug look on his face, like he had just won some unspoken argument, the little shit. you glared up at him as he stood to his full height, teal eyes glancing to the computer screen as he momentarily considered something. 

“your camera is off, right?” he asked huskily. you swallowed before nodding. his question could only confirm what you already suspected he was going to do. 

placing either hand on the arm rests of the chair, eren leaned leaned over your body and glowered down at you. “good. can’t have anyone else seeing you the way i do, can we?” 

eren’s possessiveness sent a warm feeling down your spine. the thought of being his and his alone was enough to have you on your knees. you burned with anticipation as he feverishly brought his mouth down to meet yours. 

the kiss was heated and wet, his tongue lapping at your lips as it slipped into your mouth. you sighed contentedly at the sensation. acting on a sudden impulse, you wrapped your lips delicately around his tongue and began to suck gently on the exposed muscle, eliciting a loud groan from eren’s throat. as you pulled away, you saw his dilated pupils snap to the string of saliva connecting your lips. 

“take your shirt off,” you did as you were told, pulling the fabric from your body. eren’s eyes quickly scanned the expanse of your chest; his hungry stare causing the spot between your legs to throb. he dropped to his knees before you, making sure to maintain eye contact as he slowly brought his head to your chest, mouth desperately latching onto your breast. 

his tongue swirled around your hardened nipple, a small whimper clawing its way up your throat. you leaned your head back as you felt eren’s lips curl into a smirk at the sound. his teeth carefully grazed the nub before he pulled back; face slightly flushed and still so very smug.  

his large hands slowly lifted to the hemline of your sweatpants, cold fingertips grazing your hipbone. he looked up to you as he hooked his fingers under the waistline whilst jutting his chin upwards. “up, baby.” 

you lifted yourself briefly from the chair as he pulled your sweatpants down, allowing them to pool around your ankles. as you went to sit back down, you caught your reflection in the computer screen, wincing. it felt unbelievable that you were completely exposed while your zoom class continued in the background. you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over your body and had half a mind to tell eren to stop. 

the moment of doubt passed breathlessly as eren’s awfully cold and awfully long middle and ring fingers pushed past your underwear and teased at your entrance. your lack of attention must’ve been apparent; eren’s free hand coming up to roughly grip your chin, forcing you to look down at him. 

“pay attention, pretty girl,” he growled, teal eyes glinting seriously. his fingers teasingly swiped up to your clit, collecting your slick as they travelled upwards. you sucked in a breath as he brought the digits back down, circling around your cunt before slowly pumping inside. 

you meekly nodded your head, unable to form a coherent sentence as he curled his fingers upwards, hitting the warm spongey spot that made your toes curl. your body began to heat up, watching eren’s beautiful face as he fucked you with his fingers. his chin was turned slightly upward, lips parted. his digits slid in and out of you, picking up speed as a soft moan left your lips. 

“such a wet little bitch,” eren hissed as he shifted to gain more leverage. the pressure in your core began to build, only amplified by the addition of his thumb on your sensitive clit. “fuck, you’re so hot like this. should we show the class your pretty little cunt, hm?”

you closed your eyes as the warmth started to spread from between your legs into your stomach, release on its way. his fingers began to slow, a whine bubbling up from your throat.

“eren..” you whimpered, watching a scowl form on his face. his fingers pulled out completely from inside of you, the lack of contact making you ache in need. 

still gripping your jaw, he forced you to watch as he placed his long fingers between his lips, slowly sucking the remnants of you from himself. you bit your lip to repress a moan at the slight of his tongue gliding over his knuckles. he was hot and he knew it. 

he leaned forward, pulling your face down as he stood. his grip on your jaw tightened, forcing your mouth to pop open. he spat directly in your mouth, the warm liquid pooling on your tongue as he stared down at you.

“swallow,” he demanded, waiting as you let the bitter yet saccharine liquid slide down your throat. pleased, he released his grip on your jaw, a slight stinging where his fingers had rested. “good girl.”

his hands came up to the hemline of his sweatpants, gingerly yanking them down along with his boxers. you felt heat rush to your face as his cock came up to slap against his stomach. 

“can you stand up for me, pretty?” you nodded, eyes wide as his hand came down to lazily pump his dick. standing, you stepped out of your sweatpants and pulled your panties down, kicking them both to the side. 

eren’s eyes glanced to your laptop once more, pushing it as far back on the wooden desk as it would go. before you had the chance to question his motives, he roughly gripped your hips and spun you around, pressing you down onto the table. the cool surface made you shiver. 

his hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your neck to crane uncomfortably backwards. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, the throbbing desire in you preparing itself to be stretched. he hesitated, staring at you darkly.

“beg for it,” eren’s voice was laced with a deep desire, eyes clouded with lust. you looked back at him through your lashes, lips slightly parted as his chest heaved. he could tell you were trying to rile him up. he yanked your hair slightly in retaliation. “beg for my cock to fuck you, baby.” 

“please,” you mewled, the aching in your cunt all to aware of him at your entrance, teasing you. eren raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. you swallowed deeply, the sound amplified by the strain of your craned neck. “please fuck me. fuck me so hard, eren.” 

a smirk danced across his features before he slowly stuffed himself inside of you, stretching and embedding within you. you hissed out in discomfort, never really getting accustomed to the sheer size of him. the slight pain started to dissipate as leaned forward while pulling your head back further by your hair. his hot breath fanned across the shell of your ear. 

“if you’re loud enough, i’ll let you cum,” with that, he dropped your hair and began to roughly buck his hips forward, the full feeling making your stomach burn. you moaned loudly as he slammed into you, picking up pace and stretching you nice and good.

his grunts were low and primal, melding with the sound of his hips smacking into your ass, hands burning prints into the skin on your waist. you felt yourself clench around his dick as he thrusted particularly deep, hitting that sweet spot that made tears prick your eyes. 

“you’re so pretty for me,” he grunted breathlessly. his pounding began to speed up, the sensation beginning to curdle in your cervix as you let out a string of curse words. eren fisted your hair again, the follicles stinging angrily as he brought his other hand forward to stuff his first two fingers in your mouth. 

the skin was warm and salty as you desperately sucked on his knuckles, frantic for the release you were craving as he abused your cunt. he pressed his fingers down on your tongue, allowing your mouth to fill with hot saliva. he groaned loudly at the sensation, his hips beginning to buck more senselessly. 

“pretty, pretty girl,” he moaned out, fingers pulling from your lips and bringing the saliva down your chin. you could feel your release fast approaching, aided by eren’s deep, purposeful thrusts that had you seeing stars. 

with one final plunge of his cock deep within your cunt, the release of dopamine crashed over your body, eren twitching as you unraveled around him. with a couple more sloppy thrusts, he was filling you up all nice with his cum, throaty groans ripping from his chest. 

the two of you sat in a breathy silence, cooling down from your highs together. eren pulled out, smiling lightly at the sight of his seed dripping from between your legs. he leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“better catch up on your notes, babe.” 

<3 <3 <3

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 4

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x Reader Warnings: Injury, swearing, mentions of ptsd and drug use Length: 2k Notes: Hello my Freaky Darlings! I was watching The Martian while writing this and didn’t edit so bear with me and forgive errors!

Part One, Two, Three

Damn your stubborn pride. Damn it, and your swollen wrist, all to hell. Now that you were back at home, nursing your previously ignored injury, it was easy to forget why you had felt the need to work through the pain. Prime harvesting season was ending and all the old farmers in town were predicting an early frost. Knowing how this would destroy any unpicked apples, you had worked hard all day.

Frankie had grumbled at you once, an hour into the workday when he saw you emptying your half-full basket into one of the tractor-pulled bins. You didn't feel like explaining your stupid injury, or risk drawing his memory to when you eye-fucked him, so you just grumbled back an assurance that your total count would be the same.

He was slightly more attentive than usual, and you were worried he had read more into your glances than you had meant. Because, you still hated the guy, right? His... what was it again? Arrogance? Yes! That was it. 

Not wanting to encourage any more misconceptions, and still trying to hide your damn swollen wrist, you worked through your breaks and barely stopped for lunch.

Frankie had finally put his foot down when Jacquie had arrived with stew and biscuits for dinner, forcing you off the ladder and stashing it away to make sure you didn’t get the idea to head up again that day. 

You had successfully hidden your swollen wrist from him but knew that Jacquie had a much keener eye. So while you were remiss to leave the company of your friend you begged off dinner, citing exhaustion, and went home.

Now though, with a meal that paled in comparison to Jacquie’s cooking, and your bound wrist on ice, you wished you had stayed.

That is until you remember the moment when you had stared at your boss's lips for an inappropriately long time. With a groan, you decided to leave the dishes for tomorrow, just wanting to bury your head under your blankets and try to bury your embarrassment as well.

The sound of rain pelting against the window woke you a few short hours later. You would have just gone back to sleep but the memory of leaving a few windows open forced you out of bed. By the time you made it downstairs, the gentle rain had turned to a downpour of sleet and you could feel the cold air blowing through the house.

Your mind immediately went to the orchard. If this storm got any worse, a sizeable section of un-picked trees would be rendered worthless. Grabbing your boots and discarded coat off the floor, you rushed to your truck with freezing rain stinging your face. It wasn't until you were near the end of the driveway that you realized you hadn't closed any of the windows.

That wasn't what caused you to slam on the brakes, though. Frankie's truck had just turned down your driveway, fishtailing around the bend as he barely slowed down in his hurry. Seeing you at the last minute, he braked hard but the slush already accumulating on the ground caused him to skid. The impact wasn't hard but your smaller truck wouldn't be road-worthy any longer.

Wrenching your doors open and coming around the assess the damage Frankie was swearing while you were trying to decide whether to laugh or cry.

"What the hell are you doing?" Frankie called to you from across your crumpled hood.

"Me? ME?!" You countered, voice becoming shrill from panic and stress. "What the hell are YOU doing?!"

"Coming you help you and save your damn house from this storm!" He yelled back, giving a little jump and waving his arms out of frustration. It would have been comical under different circumstances. "This is gonna flood your fuckin' house!"

"Your orchard!" You were hollering now "This is going to ruin the rest of the apples!"

Jerking his head back Frankie looked at you with confusion, "What the hell are you worried about them for?"

His query forced you to stop and wonder that for yourself.

"I-" you stuttered, feeling a little silly "I don't know? Are you really going to argue with me though?! We've wasted enough time..."

Heaving a sigh, Frankie jerked his head towards his truck and growled, "Get in."

In a desperate bid to save as much of the fruit as possible, you and Frankie laid tarps down under as many trees as you could. Shaking the branches caused the ripened fruit to fall and you just prayed the rest would survive the sudden storm which had now turned to snow.

Working together you dragged each tarp towards the tractor and took turns driving the filled bins into the barn. It wasn’t a heated cab but still a nice respite from the blizzard.

By five a.m. you had done as much as possible and the adrenaline that had once been surging through the both of you had long faded. The snow had now slowed to a light drizzle but the ground was a slippery, muddy mess, as so were the both of you. Once Frankie noticed the shivers that wracked your body he ushered you into the barn and up the side stairs into his loft.

“It’s not much but it’s enough.” was his way of welcoming you into the space. It was cozy but lacking in luxuries or personal touches.

While Frankie got busy making tea and warming soup in the kitchen you explored the loft. It was one large room broken into three basic areas: his bed in one corner with a small bathroom just off the side, a kitchenette along the opposite wall, and a couch flanked by rocking chairs faced a fireplace at the end. Making your way over to the fireplace you intended on getting a fire going but were distracted by the photos decorating the mantel.

“You served?” Your voice came out sounding loud and strained, not at all the casual way you had intended. Frankie had been gruff with you but never unkind, however, seeing photos of him in uniform instantly raised your hackles. It was an automatic response from being reminded of your husband and you hated it.

Shaking the thought of Brad from your mind, you realized Frankie hadn’t answered and was just standing next to you, staring at the photos with a blank look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried” you spoke softly, not wanting to spook him from his reverie.

You had seen that far-off look on your husband’s face when he had been home between tours. It had always been best to stay quiet and out of sight when he had gotten like that.

Frankie took a sudden step in your direction. That movement, mixed with the current memories swirling in the forefront of your brain, caused you to reflexively throw your arms up to cover your face. Hot tea spilled out of the mug Frankie had been passing to you and immediately burned the skin on your hands and arm.

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, immediately, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Tears were spilling down your cheeks and you had instantly curled up, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Shhhhhh, no, nononono, shhhhhh” Frankie was frantically trying to reassure you while simultaneously trying to get close enough to assess how bad the damage to your skin was. He seemed to know that you were feeling unsafe so he made himself small and lowered himself to the floor. “That was completely my fault, right? Can I see?”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath you calmed yourself enough to see the warmth and worry in his eyes. Your heart immediately constricted for an entirely new reason when you noticed his posturing, how he had made himself smaller than you and had his hands out wide where you could see them, waiting for you to show him the severity of the burns.

This man had dealt with PTSD before. 

Nodding, you reached out both hands for Frankie to take and tried to swallow the embarrassment you felt from your little breakdown. That emotion was quickly forgotten, however, when Frankie finally got a look at you and noticed, for the first time, just how swollen your wrist was.

“What happened here?” he asked, sternly “Were you working all day like this?”

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, trying to pull your hands out of his firm but gentle grip, “just a little mishap from this morning. Don’t worry, though, I was able to work just fine.”

He let out of huff of frustration. “You think I’m worried about how many apples you picked? Jesus Christ, you must think I’m the biggest asshole around.”

“No,” you said quietly, still trying to calm down but also wanting to relieve the tension, “that title belonged to my husband. You,” you continued, ignoring the way his head snapped up to your face then back down to check your bare ring finger, “are just the biggest grump around and it’s intimidating.”

Frankie was silent again and watched his jaw tic as he digested this new information. He was still staring at your hands, cradled in his. The bright red hue of your skin must have jarred him from his thoughts because he quickly but carefully stood up, pulling you up with him, and ushered you towards the kitchen. As you sat on the counter with cold tap water flowing over your burning skin, Frankie flitted about searching for salves and gauze to protect the skin once it had been sufficiently cooled. You tried to reassure him that you would be fine but he wasn't hearing it.

He was talking now, hadn't stopped rambling, but of nothing consequential. You had a feeling there were a lot of secrets stored in his heart but knew you weren't in a position to be trusted with them. You found yourself wishing that you were. You hadn't realized you were nodding off, the strain of the past 24 hours finally catching up on you, until Frankie had called your name for the fourth time. He was, respectfully, keeping his distance not wanting to startle you again, but hovering close enough by to catch you if you slumped over in your doze.

"Come on," he murmured sleepily, "let me take you home. We're not getting any more work done here for a while so take a few days to rest."

"Oh Christ," you guffawed in a very unladylike manner, "how did I forget?"

"It looks worse in the light of day." Frankie chimed in, ruefully.

The two of you sat in the idling truck staring at the crumpled hood of your poor truck, which was inconveniently blocking your driveway.

"I'll call for a tow."

While he was on the phone he climbed out of the cab, assessing the damage and trying to figure out how much this was going to cost him. A few minutes later he made his way back into the warmth of his truck, "He won't be here till tomor-". Frankie let the sentence trail off once he noticed you'd fallen asleep, bundled up in the fleece jacket he had lent you. Sitting back in his seat, watching the sunrise dance across your face, Frank took a moment to think about everything that had transpired in such a short amount of time.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat, he figured he'd let you sleep for a few more minutes before making you wake and have to walk the rest of the way to your house.

"As I live and breath..."

Jacquie's jubilant voice woke the both of you with a start. It was evening and Frankie's truck had been idling in your driveway for nearly 8 hours with the two of you passed out cold in the cab. At some point, you had shifted and were resting against Frankie's chest, his body turned toward yours and his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Mark!" She continued to yell, "You owe me fifty bucks!"

PART FIVE 

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley chapter 12

The scene shifted the moment Tempest woke up. They were outside, on a street in the middle of the city.  Storm clouds circled overhead.  

Tempest stood in front of them, hands in her pockets, a bland expression on her face.  

“So,” she drawled.  “You’re Nine’s friends.”

“Uh,” said Ochako, taken aback.  Right after Four had said she wouldn’t talk to them, this was disconcerting.   “Yes?”

“I’m his teacher,” said Aizawa, stepping forward.

“Yeah?  You think you’re doing a good job raising up little child soldiers?”

“Excuse me?” said Aizawa.  

“You heard me.”  She shifted her gaze to Ochako, then to Todoroki and Iida.  “I bet Souma told you I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

“He did say something along those lines, yes,” said Iida, even as Ochako worked very hard to elbow him.

“I can follow why he’d think that,” Tempest said. “I spent most of my life fighting against the government.  Lord knows I wouldn’t have approved of him choosing a ‘pro hero’ to follow after him.”  She took her hands out of her pockets to make air quotes.  She was wearing brass knuckles.  “Whatever a pro hero is supposed to be.  Government lackeys.  Cops and war criminals with a different name.  I’m shocked he pulled a halfway decent person from the muck.”

“We’re not war criminals!” protested Iida.  

“Oh, yeah?  I forgot, the Geneva convention was nixed, wasn’t it?  They had this big meeting and decided none of it applied to metahumans, and then, bam!  Everyone’s a metahuman, so it doesn’t apply at all, huh?  Neat, right?”

“What we’re doing now might not be what you’re used to,” said Ochako, “but it’s the way society works, now.”

“And we’re not killing people, like you did,” said Iida.  Ochako winced at his combative addition.  

“I did what I had to, to get people out of the torture camps,” said Tempest.  “People like my little sister.  You know what they did to her?  They thought her power was just controlled by her voice.  So, they cut out her vocal cords.”

“They don’t do that anymore,” said Todoroki.  

“You think a government like that is just going to stop doing things?  Without people making them?  Without being forced?”  Tempest laughed and looked up at the swirling sky.  “Maybe you do.  You’re just kids, after all.  But tell me this, do you think they didn’t know exactly what was happening to your family, Todoroki Shouto?”

Aizawa cleared his throat.  “What’s your point, here?” he asked.  “What do you want from us?”

Tempest looked back at Aizawa.  The coldness in her brown eyes made Ochako shiver.  “We could have kept you out,” she said. “That Suzuki idiot, too.  Do you know why we didn’t?”

“Enlighten us,” said Aizawa.  

“Because the way we do it would cause irreparable brain damage.  We know, because we’ve done it before.  I thought it was worth it, but the others didn’t want to hurt ‘Nine’s friends.’”

“Are you implying that we aren’t Midoriya’s friends?” asked Todoroki, frowning.  

Tempest huffed and wind whipped down the road, making Ochako cover her face.  

“No.  To be honest, I’m not completely sold on Nine, either.  He wanted to part of the system so bad, and that’s not to mention—” she huffed again.  “At least he knows what it’s like to be on the other side of the equation.  You four, though… I’m stuck with Nine.  I don’t owe you anything and you’re causing all these problems.  What I want from you—”

Behind her, lightning snapped down from the sky.

“—is to prove to me you’re worth it.”

.

“Vlad, the police were able to find your car,” said Powerloader, holding his hand over the receiver of the staff room telephone.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Vlad.  “I hate taking public transportation.”  He paused.  “I mean, uh, did they find Yagi?  Is he alright?”

“No, they didn’t find Yagi.”

“Great,” said Vlad.  “So, ask them when I can pick it up.  Why are you making that face?  Did Yagi total it?  I bet he did.  ‘Symbol of Peace,’ my—”

“No,” interrupted Powerloader.  “Yagi didn’t total it.  Or crash it.  It was parked in an alley near the Musutafu entertainment district.”

“Where Midoriya had that fight with Hawks,” said Vlad, putting his head in his hands.  “It got wrecked by one of them, didn’t it?”

“No,” said Powerloader.  “It was parked in an alley.  They found it on a security camera.  It isn’t there anymore.”

“They took it again?”

“The League of Villains took it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

.

The bus felt empty with half the class missing. The remaining 1-A students (plus Shinso) were all huddled together at the front, mooching off of the teachers mobile hotspots.  

“Did my email go through yet, kero?” asked Tsuyu, leaning over her seat to look at Denki’s computer.  

“Not yet,” said Denki.  “I’ve got all the pictures you guys sent arranged, but I wish we had more video material.  Ashido was the one with the most…”  He sighed. “Ashido, gossip queen, when you wake up I will apologize for all my comments about your hobbies.”

“I have some videos of Midoriya.”

“Trust us, Mineta, no one want your videos,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Huh?  Why not?”

“Tell us this.  How many of your videos are actually of Midoriya and don’t just have him incidentally in the background while you try to film girls.”

“None of them,” said Mineta, obviously not seeing why this was wrong.  “Why would I film Midoriya?”

“Mic,” said Midnight, “please remind me to sign up the walking lawsuit for some sensitivity classes.  How did Eraser miss this?”

“Unfortunately, Shouta is about as sexual as the average rock, so…”

“Remind me to sign him up for some training, too, then.”

“Will do.”

“Walking lawsuit?” asked Mineta.  

Everyone else sighed.  Then Denki’s laptop pinged.

“Huh.  I just got an email from Principal Nezu.”

The adults, including Green Light, the bus driver, blanched.  Adults were bothered by the weirdest things.  In the end, Nezu was just a guy with a quirk, right?  A hero, even!  Principal Nezu, the Education Hero!

Okay, he’d scared Denki (Mr. Terrible Grades) a lot in elementary and middle school, but really.  

(Okay, the crane thing at the Final Exam had been high-key terrifying, but he was trying to get past that.)

“Huh,” repeated Denki, having read the email. “That’s interesting.”

“What is it, my electric friend?” asked Aoyama, drapping himself sideways across his seat.

“Aoyama-san,” said Midnight, “don’t put your feet on the windows.”

“Principal Nezu sent me a link to an ‘All Might adopt a kid’ fanfiction, and it’s by—”

“Midoriya writes fanfiction?” asked Shouji, evidently surprised into using his real mouth to speak.  

“That’s cute, kero,” said Tsuyu.  “It must have been before he met the real All Might, though.”

“No,” said Denki, “it was last updated just a couple of weeks ago, and, well… Midoriya didn’t write it.”

“So, who did?” asked Yaoyorozu.  

“Not Nezu, right?” asked Jiro, winding her earphone jack around her finger.  

“There’s no way, right, Kaminari-san?” asked Present Mic, nervously.  

“Uh, no, no, it’s, uh, it’s All Might. According to Nezu.”

A beat of silence.

“What?”

Denki inserted his pinky into his right ear, trying to clear it.  Man, if the Bakusquad had been here rather than the quiet half of the class…

“Yeah, it says here that this serves All Might right for working on this during school hours?”

More silence.  

“Green Light, the road!”  

“Oops, sorry!”

“Hey, guys, are we sure that All Might didn’t, you know, kidnap Midoriya rather than the other way around?  Guys?”

.

Gran Torino, also known as Torino Sorahiko, was an active hero.  That meant late nights and late mornings.  He was also an old man.  A very old man.  Late mornings often turned into noons and afternoons.  

Sometimes, during those noons and afternoons, he liked to ignore technology and the outside world for a good long while.  Maybe read the paper a little bit.  Or one of those terrible romance novels Nana had left him in her will.  

Still, he was a hero, one wrapped up in something best described as a two-hundred-year-long shadow war, so eventually he did turn on the news.  

Only to see Toshinori’s boy fighting Hawks on live television.  

Not to mention Toshinori hanging out in the background with a shaved head.  

And the ticker said UA student Midoriya Izuku kidnaps Symbol of Peace.

(Which was the dumbest thing he had ever heard, and under other circumstances, he would have been rolling on the floor laughing.)

Gran Torino was an old man, but, luckily, he only felt like he was simultaneously having a heart attack and a stroke.  His body was more than functional enough to place a not-at-all panicked phone call to one Tsukauchi Naomasa.  

.

Tsukauchi Naomasa was incredibly busy.  That busy-ness was divided mostly evenly between desperately trying to find his best friend (who had evidently decided to make a hopefully brief foray into kidnapping teenagers) and trying to figure out what the commission was taking, because it had to be illegal.  Oh, and putting together a complaint that the commission was infringing on police prerogatives.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much traction that last would get, since pro heroes had been steadily gaining more and more responsibilities even as the police were losing both them and the power that came with them.  Not to mention Midoriya’s stunt with Hawks… Which… Naomasa just wanted to know why?  What had the point of that been?  On either side?

(Sometimes he wished he were friends with normal people.  Like… he didn’t know… an accountant, maybe?)

(Not that he would give Toshinori up for the world. Just, some normalcy would be nice, too.)

He took a deep breath, remembered what he always told Toshinori about stress, and took a mouthful of room-temperature coffee.

In that thirty-second period, two more problems presented themselves to him.  

One, his cell phone began to ring, displaying the contact information for Gran Torino.  

Two, his email softly pinged, and a message from Principal Nezu asking for any images or videos Toshinori might have sent him slid into his inbox.  

Briefly, Naomasa considered ignoring both of them, but that wasn’t a realistic option and was irresponsible besides.  Contrary to his character.  

He picked the lesser of two evils and answered Gran Torino’s call.

.

Garaki was going to have a mental breakdown.  This was fitting because his car had broken down.  Midoriya Inko was asking him if he thought that his ‘friend’ might come pick them up, if it was safe.  If his ‘friend’ had a car.  

This last had almost sent him into hysterics. Gigantomachia in a car oh-ho!

Except it wasn’t funny at all, as this was almost certainly going to result in his death at the hands of All for One.  No matter that he considered the man his very dearest of friends, he was under no illusions about what All for One would do to him over this inexcusable error.

Perhaps he should just cut his losses and get one of the remote-activated noumu to come for them.  

Then, inexorably and inevitably, things managed to get even worse.

.

“Stop the car!” shouted Tomura.  

“But you said not to—”

“I know what I said!  Stop the car!”

Tomura twisted to see out the rear passenger window. Everyone else turned to follow his gaze, effectively blocking his view.  

“Get out of my way!” demanded Tomura.

There was some awkward, half-hearted shuffling.

“Does that look like anyone to you?” Tomura hissed.

“Yeah!  Like the doctor!” said Toga.  

“I’ve never seen him standing up, though,” said Spinner, dubiously.  “It seems out of character.”

“I didn’t know he owned a car,” mused Compress, rubbing the bottom edge of his mask.  

“Not him!” snapped Tomura.  “The woman!”  He pointed angrily at the rapidly approaching woman with green hair, narrowly avoiding dusting Mr. Compress’s top hat.  

“Eh?  What about her?” asked Spinner.  

“Doesn’t she look familiar to you?”

“To be honest, everyone without mutation quirks looks kind of the same to me.”

“Someone without face blindness.”

“Oh!  She looks like Izu-kun!  Do you think that’s his mom?”

The woman knocked on the window of the car.  Twice, unhelpfully rolled it down.  

“Thank you so much for stopping, we—Oh!”  She took a step back.

She apparently recognized them.  Joy.  He was going to unpack his feelings about this woman later.

“Hey, doc,” rasped Tomura, annoyed.  “What the hell have you been doing?”

“Ahem,” said Garaki, finally stepping out from behind the car.  “I didn’t expect to see you here, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Because you blew us off and stranded us in the middle of Musutafu?”

“No,” said Garaki, in a way that absolutely meant ‘yes.’  “I knew you were resourceful enough to safely make it out of the city.”

“Oh, yeah?  Really?  You—”

Compress chose that moment to slam his face into the back of Tomura’s head.  Tomura steadied himself automatically on one of the car’s uprights, which cracked dangerously under his hand.  He pulled back as if burned.  

When he looked up, the gremlin’s mother was halfway to the tree line with – What was that in her hand?

He looked back over his shoulder.  

That was Twice’s goddamn mask.  

Compress, for some reason, was also missing his stupid mask (and covering his face like the dramatic weirdo he was), and Toga basically had hearts in her eyes.  Spinner was being Spinner, and therefore ninety percent useless.  He was lucky he was fun to play games with.

How to make her stop?

“Hey!” he shouted.  “We have your son!”

This was a lie, as far as he knew (unless Dabi had snatched him on his way back; it wasn’t impossible), but, he was a villain.

The green-haired woman stopped and turned back, allowing Tomura a full view of her expression.  

He decided that he regretted everything.

.

“Okay,” said Izuku, multitasking by letting Two pick the lock on the League’s safe, “considering Gigantomachia’s ability to track by smell and the questionable running water, we can’t just sneak out.  He’ll find us.  So… I think our best play is getting him to attack Shigaraki, and then when they’re both distracted, we run for it.”

Toshinori nodded and sighed.  “If only we had a giant jug of perfume.  We could throw it at his face and disrupt his ability to smell us.”

“I mean, I found a whole bunch of garbage a way back.  That isn’t perfume, but it does stink.”

“No, no, your plan is superior.  We’d draw too much suspicion if we attacked him like that. Perfume could be written off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.  Because perfume is a ‘nice’ thing.”

“Indeed.”

“It isn’t actually very nice to have it all over you, though,” said Izuku.  

“No,” agreed Toshinori.  “It isn’t.”

The safe popped open.

“I won’t ask if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

“But, anyway, assuming we do get away, what then? Where do we go?  And—Wow.  The League of Villains is broke.  I almost feel bad.”

“I was going to say Deika, but that’s too far, now, and we don’t know if Gigantomachia will come after us,” said Toshinori.  “Drawing him to a place full of civilians would be irresponsible.”

“Yeah,” said Izuku.  He frowned, pulling his head from the safe, and glanced out the window. “What about the Wild Wild Pussycats?”

“What about them?” asked Toshinori.  

“They’re near here, aren’t they?  And they’ve got that whole complex, so, I mean…  I don’t know how they feel about us right now, but it wouldn’t be a terrible place to hide.  Would it?”

“I’d hate to bring all of this down on them as well,” said Toshinori.  “But… That being said, I don’t believe they’re actually there.  They were taking some time off because of what happened to Ragdoll.”

“That makes sense,” said Izuku.  “Should we take the risk?”

“I’m unsure if we have a choice, my boy.  We could try roughing it, but that puts us in a very vulnerable position.”

“And we can’t stay here, with the League.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Okay.”  Izuku sighed and started to thumb through the League’s collection of fake IDs, looking for something he could use.  “Wild Wild Pussycats it is.  We’ve got to convince Machia to attack Shigaraki, and… then we sneak out the back while they’re fighting.”  He shook his head.  “It sounds really unheroic when I put it that way.”

“Under these circumstances, I think heroic is the set of actions where no one dies.”

His mentor was right.  Izuku still felt weird about this, though.  (The pettiness was completely different.)

Not to mention…

He put the last of the fake IDs away and massaged his temples.  “They’re doing something weird in there,” he said.  “I’m going to check on them.  I might be out of it.”

“Don’t worry,” said Toshinori, patting Izuku on the shoulder.  “I’ll keep an eye on things out here.”

(Perhaps all of this could have gone unsaid, what with their connection, but saying things out loud made them easier to organize.)

.

“Hey!” shouted Izuku over the roaring wind. “Stop that!”

“Are you going to fight me, Nine?  All by yourself?”

“No,” said Izuku, somehow contriving to look down his nose at her despite the height difference and the fact that Tempest was floating several meters in the air.  “I won’t have to.  Because I have a secret weapon.”

Ochako could almost see Tempest roll her eyes.

“And,” shouted Izuku, “do you seriously think I just wanted to be part of the system?  Are you serious?  I wanted to help people.  People the system failed.  It isn’t like they’re responsible for the system either!”  He waved his hand to indicate Ochako, Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa.

“I’d argue about your hobo teacher.  Is this your secret weapon?”

“No, this is, Great-Aunt Miranda.”

Tempest opened her mouth, then closed it again. The wind began to die down.  “I’m – I don’t know what the point of that was—"

“Neither do I!  What’s the point of this?”

“The point is determining whether or not you have people you can rely on, or a bunch of backstabbers who’ll hand you over to a government lab as soon as it’s convenient!”  She stabbed a finger at Ochako.  “She’s just in ‘heroics’ for the money!”  She pointed at Iida.  “He’s only here because it’s traditional for his family.”   She gestured at Todoroki with her other hand.  “He’s doing it mostly out of spite.  And who knows what your hobo teacher is doing this for!”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of that!” protested Ochako.  “You must have your own motivations, too!”

“She does!” shouted Izuku.  “Considering what they are, you have no room to be criticizing Iida!  Besides, you don’t even like me!”

“This isn’t about liking you or disliking!  You’re the—” Tempest visibly cut herself off, then took a deep breath.  She set herself down on the street.  “Knowing what we do now about certain things, a fourteen-year-old would not have been my first choice.”

“Excuse me!  We’re all sixteen!” said Iida.  

“You’re sixteen now, it’s – The fact of the matter is that you’re children.  Naïve children.”

“Oh my gosh, you were younger than I was when you—”

“I was kidnapped and tortured—”

“I know, but why are you taking it out on—”

“By the government that you are trying to lick the boot of—”

“Did you see what they did to Suzuki?”

Ochako felt like she was spectating a very passionate tennis match.  

“If it means anything,” said Aizawa, dragging himself out of the pile of rubble he’d been thrown into by the wind, “I’m just trying to keep my kids alive as long as possible.”

“Then expel them!  Stop them from becoming literal child soldiers!”

“I do,” said Aizawa.

“He does,” confirmed Ochako, who was well acquainted with Aizawa’s reputation.  

“He really does,” seconded Todoroki.  

“I used to see Tensei’s group chat, and every time he expelled someone…”  Iida shivered.  

“Huh,” said Todoroki.  “Is that why you’re so… insistent about rules?”

“Of course not!  Rules are important regardless of why so many students were expelled during the first month of school!”

“So, why didn’t you expel these ones?”

“If you honestly believe the problem child wouldn’t have flung himself at the first villain he saw after that and dove straight into vigilantism, you don’t know him very well.”  He sighed, standing, and brushed dust and pebbles out of his tracksuit. “That goes for these three as well. They’re insane and it’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t saving others what heroes do?” asked Izuku, walking closer to Tempest.  Ochako wanted to run out and grab him, but this whole ordeal had just shown how useless that would be.  “No matter what?”

“Not no matter what.  This is why I…”  She shook her head, sighing.  “Not no matter what.”  She leaned forward, her hands on her hips.  “Don’t die. You do realize what will happen if you die, right?  I don’t have to spell it out for you?”

“N-no,” said Izuku.  

“Besides which, I’m not a hero.”

“You saved people,” protested Izuku.  

“And, as your friends pointed out, I’ve killed, too.”

“I know,” said Izuku.  “But you aren’t a bad person.”

“Lots of people kill during wars,” said Ochako, going to stand by Izuku, “and that’s what you were fighting in, wasn’t it?  I mean, I don’t know a lot about that time, but…”

“You wouldn’t.  It’s been over a hundred years.”

Izuku nodded.  “This fight isn’t doing anything, though.  None of us want them here if the vault opens.”

“The what?” asked Iida.  “The vault.”

“Hopefully,” said Izuku, “you won’t have to worry about it.”

“The fight did do something, though,” said Tempest.

“What?” asked Izuku.  

“For one,” said Tempest, “it made you think. For the other…”  Her eyes flicked over Ochako and the others.  “Everyone you fight will have their own reasons. Remember that.”

.

As they walked down the street, storms still brewing overhead, Ochako kept catching glimpses of children in the alleyways and cross streets.  

“Who are they?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“My sister and I,” answered Tempest, brusquely. Ochako, watching the back of the woman’s head, saw her twitch slightly towards one of the alleys.  “About the time we were taken.”

“Taken by who?” asked Todoroki.  

Tempest laughed.  The sound was entirely humorless.  “That government you’re so eager to serve.  You’ve noticed, I hope, that my sister and I aren’t completely Japanese?”

“Yes?” said Todoroki.  “I’m not blind, after all.”

“Todoroki,” said Aizawa in a warning tone.

“Good for you.  Our mother was Japanese.  Dad was American.  We went back and forth to see the family.  Problem was, everyone on Mom’s side quirks.  We didn’t even realize it.  The government tracked the weather disturbances to our movements and raided our family reunion.  Never saw my parents again.  Never saw anyone, for that matter, except my sister and my aunt – Dad’s side – who tried to smuggle us out and got shot for it.  We spent four years in that hell before Ryuji rescued us.”

“You’re more open about this than I would have expected,” said Aizawa.

Tempest sneered.  “Why wouldn’t I be?  I’m a terrorist, and people only become terrorists if they want to make a statement. Which I did.  Trust me when I say this, Nine, if the hero commission took you into ‘custody,’” she spat the word like it was dirty, “you’d be in the same boat. What do you children think they do to all those high-profile criminals in Tartarus?  The ones that are held indefinitely in a private prison without even a show trial?”

“I know, Three,” said Izuku, far more calmly that Ochako would have been able to.  “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to be a hero.  It’s easier to change systems from the inside.”

“Not this system.”

“No,” said Izuku, “but then I had no idea this part of the system even existed.  They do a lot to hide it, after all.”

“Hm,” grunted Tempest, skeptically.

The buildings began to thin out, interspersed with wilderness.  The road rapidly graded narrowed into a one-lane road, then gravel.  

“Is this normal?” asked Ochako.  

“We have more control over our environments than the other ones.  You’ve noticed that only Eight and Nine had multiple versions of themselves running around and being confusing.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose,” said Izuku.  

“Exactly.  Any of us could send an army of ourselves against you.  Only those two don’t have a choice about it.  Amateurs.”

“Shouldn’t they have had the same amount of time as—” started Ochako.  She broke off as a series of concrete walls topped with barbed wire rose up in front of them, scraping at the surrounding trees, shedding clumps of dirt.  

The trees fell away, leaving a clear, baren space between the walls and the trees.  Slightly beyond the structure moonlight glinted off the surface of a lake.  

“Well.  Welcome to Jinoshi Lake Camp, kids.”  Tempest turned, putting her hands on her hips.  “This is where I met Ryuji.  And…” She glanced up at the walls.  “This is as far as I go.”

“You aren’t going to show us where to find this ‘Ryuji?’” asked Aizawa.  

“I promised myself I’d never go back there.” She jerked her head over her shoulder. “I’m not revisiting it for you.” She started walking away.  “Have fun.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Letting Go.”

Wrote this today, hope you like it, and hope you all have a great day :)

“We have to take him to a hospital.”

His hearing echoed, his ears rang, and his body felt cold and numb. He hurt all over.

“No! That's the last thing he needs right now.”

“Not to be rude but, are you stupid! The last tie i checked, I am the only one here with a Doctorate in actual doctoring.

The world swirled slowly to the left and then to the right.

“Last time I checked I’ve been in his shoes before. You have any idea what they are going to do, they are going to assume he jumped off that bridge on purpose. They are going to strap him down, which is going to make things worse, they are going to bring in psych, who are then going to determine that he should be locked down. That is the last thing this man needs right now, and believe me I have been in his shoes.” he faded out and then back in again.

“Than what do you suggest.”

“You’re a doctor aren’t you, so as long as we have you, he is going to be fine. Let's just get him back to my hotel, but I am telling you the last thing he needs is a noisy smelly hospital room.”

“And how are we going to get him back?”

He faded back in and back out again, “I can carry him.”

“He weights over two hundred pounds.” “Than I will take lots of breaks.”

He faded out again, this time for a long while, waking up only briefly an unknown time later. He was lying, uncomfortably over someone else’s shoulder and staring at the ground as it passed by below him. Little streaks of light dotted his vision from the pain, and he felt back unconscious before he could really understand what was going on.

***

Kier Lindsay stared down at the young man, watching as the strange little alien creature got to work. He had once heard that multitasking was pretty much impossible for humans as the brain was too interconnected to allow for it, but his creature didn’t seem to have any problems. All four of its arms seemed to work independently of each other as it stitched the unconscious man back into one piece. Looking him over the doctor had determined that he had managed to fracture his good leg and some of the bones in his right arm and side, but otherwise he was less injured than they had hoped. 

Then again this was without considering the psychological duress he might be under at the moment.

He grimaced thinking about it.

He had been there before, he had been there and he had hurt a lot of people in the process.

He continued to watch as the alien stitched the other man up with great precision…

Man? 

Honestly he wasn’t much more than a kid, his face was still smooth, unscared by time . Not a hint of white showed in his blond hair, and as he slept, the lines of his face were soft enough that Kier couldn’t shake the feeling that he WAS nothing more than a child.

A child who had had responsibility placed on him far to soon.

To be only in you late twenties and have command of an entire galactic armada.

That was too much to ask for anyone, much less someone like him. Kier couldn’t shake the thoughts as he stared down thinking about how despite technically being an adult for a long enough time, he doubted this man had ever been given a chance to grow up, at least not in the right ways. Turned to the academy at age fourteen, he had been doing adult jobs for longer than most people. He had been thrown into an environment where intelligence and performance mattered but social opportunities were sort of lacking, and then to be thrown right onto the enterprise and into war before trying to recover and immediately turning back to the one group of people that had failed him so badly…..

Adam vir was just a kid, an overly optimistic too trusting kid who had been taken advantage of by the system time and time again. He was like a golden retriever hurt by his master but still loyal enough to come crawling back.

It almost made him sick to watch, but he knew just by looking at him that he would never consider leaving. 

Even if it were for his health.

Kier sighed and sat down by the bed staring at the boy with his chin cupped in one hand.

He had a son about Adam Vir’s age, a boy that was just beginning to pull his life together into some semblance of controlled. It had taken him a lot of mistakes and a lot of experience to figure out who he was, and he ached for the realisation that this man probably never got that.

He knew the feeling all too well.

He shook himself a little, dad mode was something you couldn’t really just turn off, at least not in his case. If there were people younger than him, he felt the automatic obligation to adopt them whether they wanted it or not.

Young people deserved guidance from someone who was older and the more people to do it the better. Lindsay hadn’t seen any of Adam’s family members at the trial, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but he also got the impression that maybe the had avoided telling them on purpose, which was another red flag he was going to have to discuss with the boy woke up.

If he woke up.

***

He woke up some time later, though he couldn’t have guessed what time. The room was dark aside from the blue light of the TV. A little bit of natural light filtered in from the window, but rain clouds dotted blanketed the sky above. Rain pattered against the window in sheets obscuring the city landscape.

He groaned and tilted his head to the side.

A soft whimper, and something warm and wet ran over the back of his hand.

He tilted his head to the side.

The room was small, only big enough for a queen sized bed, a tv and a small desk. There was adoor to a small bathroom right next to a door that likely lead out into the hallway. The hotel room was small, but clean.

And it wasn’t his.

He turned his head a little further, gritting his teeth against the pain as his bleary eyes fell on the silhouette of a man sitting at the end of the bed. He was slightly hunched forward one hand resting on his knee as he flipped through the channels.

“Adam, can you hear me.’

He turned his head a little further to the right, to where Kril was standing beside him, a look of concern on his face.

The silhouette turned to face him, no more than a balck blob against the light. It was impossible to make out his face.

“Where am I? He croaked

The man stood and stepped forward, stepping out of the way of the TV and allowing some light to fall on the side of his face, “My hotel room, sorry about how cramped it is, but until yesterday I was kind of short on cash.”

Adam blinked, the cogs in his brain grinding to a slow start as he stared at the man’s face, which was familiar but he just couldn’t…

“Cigarette.”

It was the first word his brain could think of to describe the man when he finally recognised him, and in his goggy state it was the only thing he could think of, “Where do you even buy those these days.”

“Lets just say if I could quit my smoking habit than maybe I wouldn’t be so short of cash…. Anyway, how are you feeling.”

“Like shit…. What…. What happened.”

The other man sighed and pulled up the chair from the desk, sitting next to him, “You must have had a pretty bad PTSD attack. Looks like you jumped off an overpass and then rad headfirst into a brick wall.”

He grunted, “that explains a lot I guess….” he paused, “I thought…. I thought I was doing fine. I felt…. Fine and now…” A hand rested on his shoulder, “I know, I understand.”

Adam blinked, squinting at him slightly in the darkness, “Who are you/”

“The name is Kier but most of my friends call me Lindsay. I don’t know why, guess our days in the army just sort of rubbed off on us, now we only refer to people by their last names really.”

“What were you doing at the trial.”

The man smiled a little sadly, “Watching some assholes git their comeuppance, oh, and being awarded about five million dollars compensation.”

It took Adam even longer to digest that, “You….. you’re Steel eye-” The last two words came out as a squeak.”

Lindsay turned on the light by the bed, bathing them both in a warm yellow glow. Now that Adam could get a good look at him, he saw an older man probably in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was steel grey but well groomed, and he had the body of a man half his age. He wore only a tattered flannel rolled up to the sleeves and a white T-shirt. The back and sides of his arms were dotted with familiar circular scars  all with a silver sort of sheen.

And, surprisingly, little silver dots….

Iron eye implants.

He turned his head to stare up at him, “You…. you are one of the five.”

“Yep, we never met during the war but I’ve been watching your career on the news for some time now. Some real impressive stuff kid.” he smiled, smiled and easy smile of someone who actually meant it.

Adam felt a sudden pang of guilt and shame.

For a moment he couldn’t figure out what it had stemmed from, until he realised. This man seemed fine, and here he was a complete wreck.

“How are you….. Ok after all that?” he wondered almost bitterly.

Lindsay shook his head, “Don’t start with that. I've jumped from one war to another my entire life. I have more experience than you.”

Adam went quiet, “So you were fine…. After steel eye.”

The man snorted, “No… no no, not even close.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The man shrugged, “Lost both my legs in the war, one above the knee and one below. When I got home my family didn’t have enough money to get me good prosthetics, so I was pretty much wheelchair bound for a year or so.” he sighed, “I came back a shell of a man to a family who really needed a father. It was so bad for a time, everyday I thought about just…. Not being there anymore. I didn’t  talk to my wife, I didn’t talk to my kids, and when I did speak I was angry all the time or apathetic.” His shoulders slumped, “For a time, I didn’t have much of a relationship with my middle daughter or my oldest son. I had drug withdrawals so bad I even wheeled myself halfway across town to try and find something…. Heroin maybe, anything that might take the edge off,” He snorted sadly, “I see it as a blessing now that no one would sell to me. I went over the edge drinking, and chain smoking and trying to bum pills off of any doctor I could find. Luckily with regulations on pills these days, I wasn’t given any.”

Adam felt his mouth go dry, “That bad.”

He nodded, “Woke up screaming most nights because of the dreams. For a while my kids moved out of the house because my wife was scared for thor safety.” He held up a hand, “Even during that time I would never have hit them intentionally, but my dreams were getting so bad that I would wake up flailing, and I would jump at the smallest sound. Anything could set me off.”

He sighed sadly, “But my wife bless her soul, is the strongest woman I know.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a photograph showing it to Adam with a look of pride so profound  it made even Adam’s heart ache.

What he saw was a nice family. Two younger kids, a teenage boy, and a woman.

She had short black hair spiked up and dark lipstick on, and the look on her face was indicative of someone full of mischievous humor.

“My angel. She stayed by me even though she should have left. I tried to get her to leave, even made my behavior worse at one point to drive her off. She SHOULD have left me, but she didn’t. I had the mot amazing support system. She held me from falling any further into it, and my little girl, my little girl Bethany, that little girl pulled me out by my hair and dragged me back to reality. She was too young to realise how horrible I was being, and she just thought I was sick. No matter how much my wife tried to keep hr away from me, she always came to see me somehow, with ‘medicine’.” 

He smiled, “Generally it was just a tube of baby M&Ms. I refused at first, but she insisted, and the one day I decided to take them just to quiet her down, she told me that I would be all better.”

He waited with pent up breath.

“That night, I slept without nightmares…. The placebo effect is a hell of a thing if a child can convince a grown ass man that M&Ms ar medicine. I woke up and my head had never been so clear in my entire life. I saw what I was doing to them, and to my little girl and to my other kids…. I have never cried that hard in my entire life, but it was just what I needed. Some emotion to break the cycle of anger and apathy. It wasn’t an easy road from there, but I finally got smart and started listening to my wife. Somehow managed to get my kids to forgive me, and from there we worked as a team to get me back on my feet.” he patted the cigarette in his pocket, “This is what remains from those days…. Can’t seem to quit, but working on it.”

Adam was quiet for some time, 

“It was that hard on your family.”

“It was. I am glad they stayed but at the same time I wish they hadn’t been so hurt by me.

He sighed and leaned his head back, “I don’t think that is possible for me.”

A hand turned to rest down on his shoulder, “I know it sounds hard right now but…. I have a theory if you want to hear it.”

He sighed, “Shoot, it's not like I have any other bright ideas.”

“What are you?”

“What do you mean.”

“I mean when all the trappings are stripped away from you, your job and your title…. What makes you…. You.”

He paused for a moment, opened his mouth and then closed it, “I…. Im a….I….” The other man waited, his eyes sad.

The only things Adam could think of were related to his job.

When he was silent for some minutes, the man patted his arm, “All these years of service and you've never taken time to construct a framework for yourself that can survive outside of your job. If you keep defining yourself by what you do and how well you preform than you aren’t going to last. You constantly do everything for everyone else, but why not think about doing something for yourself for once, be completely selfish. Don’t go on vacation because, I bet this will calm me down and make me a better leader when I return, go on vacation because you bloody well want to job be damned.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the man silenced him.

“Even if you love your job, you need breaks from it. You need to set the line to where your job ends and you begin, otherwise you won’t have a personality left when you are done. Take some time to fix YOU before lending yourself to everyone else.”

He rested his head back, “That sounds….. Difficult.”

The man patted him on the arm, “You’ve proven you can do hard things, now is just the time to do another hard thing.”

Adam nodded but inside his head he was beginning to feel a little hopeless. He knew that Lindsay was right. He knew that he was messed up, and everything he had done up to this point was just going to be a bandage. 

And until he was fixed.

He was going to have to give up a few things.

He hated the idea of hurting people like Lindsay had described, so…. So that meant doing something that he wasn’t going to like.

“Do you…. Do you mind if I…. speak with you…. On occasion.”

The man smiled, “I already put my number in your phone if you need me. I work law enforcement now so I might be busy, but if you need my help Ill do my best.”

***

He didn’t want the court’s blood money. He would have tossed it away if he could, but he knew that was just his confused mind talking. Money was money, so he mostly gave it away. Gave it away to his parents for their retirement, and to his brothers and sisters for their kids college funds. He gave some to his brother to get him a better house in a new area, but he kept some for himself. It would have been irresponsible not to buy himself a house, to get himself a place away from his job and the ship.

He didn’t know where to buy it at first thinking that earth was too mundane but anything further out was too far removed. So, he bought a little private property on the moon. It cost a shit ton of money but, he had that in spades now. He only told his family about it.

They weren’t exactly happy with them when he finally told them where he had been. They had wanted to be there to support him, but he couldn’t find t in himself to feel bad that they hadn’t see the pictures and the videos he had been forced to see. He apologized and promised he would do better in the future.

He felt disconnected from himself.

Out of touch.

The crew of the Omen was just as angry with him, perhaps even more so than his family.. The intervening days that led him back to his ship feeling detached was like…. Some sort of horrible dream. He felt like he was slipping backward down a slippery slope and watching the light fade away from him. 

He was scrambling on the rocks but couldn’t find purchase.

Perhaps it was the idea of what he had to do next that hurt  him so much. Hurt him so much that he didn’t want to think about it, but he knew he had to. He didn’t want to but he knew he had to. It was the only way he was going to be able to feel ok about himself, about fixing himself.

Maybe things would change when he finally came back.

Maybe when he recovered, he could change what he was about to do.

And maybe he was about to ruin it forever.

He walked down the hallway of the engineering corridor despondent, like he was watching himself in third person.

He reached out a hand that didn’t feel like his and knocked on the wall of the ship.

A familiar face turned to look at him from her workspace in the dark. Sunny stood and paused to look at him, “Adam, are you alright.”

“Sunny…. We…. need to talk.”

She paused eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Are you ok.” she repeated.

He walked in taking a seat on her work bench and staring down at his hands.

“Is this about, the trial….. I mean yes I am a little mad that you didn’t tell me. Is it because I’m a Drev, is it because it would have looked bad. I know I don’t understand human politics, but maybe….”

He held up a hand, and she grew quiet.

He sat for a long moment fighting himself on the inside,and then forcing himself to look up at her. He could feel hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes though, for some reason he couldn’t get them to fall.

She deserved that he at least LOOK at her.

He felt sick.

He just wanted to throw up. 

This…. This was the hardest thing he had ever done. 

“Sunny…. I… while I was away, at the trial.”

She stared at him slow horror and confusion passing across her face.

“Well, I learned some things about myself. Number one being that, I….. I never recovered from what happened to me. From Steel eye and the war. Ive been bandaging it up for the past few years assuming that I can fix it, but at this point…. I wonder if I ever will.” He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her, “I’m broken, and until I can fix myself…. I think its best if-”

“No, no no no that's not how this works.”

He continued speaking, “I think it's best if we take a break.”

“NO!”

“Sunny I love you but I. I am not Capable of being what you need or deserve.” he stood reaching a hand forward, “I can’t subject you to myself like that.”

She jerked away from his hand, “that should be MY decision it would be OUR decision.”

“Sunny please…. I am so sorry.”

“On my planet, battle pairs fight WITH each other no matter how hard the battle is.”

His voice shook timorous and fading fast, “And on my planet, sometimes loving someone means letting them go.”

[super-secret-sick-fics]

hii i requested the last fic and i loved it very much! excited for pt 2 :D

OH and it wasn’t even out of character it felt like exactly how they would react! you write suna especially well aquarius twins

Thank you!! I’m so glad you liked it :) Here’s part 2!! I didn’t proofread this at all, so I apologize for any mistakes. 

I tried to make it so that they could each be read independently. Also I am bad at endings sorry lmao. 

Sick & Delirious: A SunaOsa fic (part 2 of Sick at School)

Pair: Sick Suna, Caretaker Osamu

Word Count: 3,028

Warnings: Vomit, panic attack, swearing & fluff 

Part 1 Here 

___________________________

“Rintaro, you poor, poor baby!” Osamu’s mother cried as soon as she showed up to the front office of the school.

Shortly after the nurse agreed to let Osamu go home too, Suna and Osamu were escorted (slowly and with a small bin in hand) to the front to await Miya-san. They sat down and Suna almost immediately curled into Osamu’s warmth. If he wasn’t so sick, he’d be utterly embarrassed at how clingy he was being. Their hands had been joined since they left the classroom and Suna squeezed Osamu’s every time a cramp rolled through his body.

Now Miya-san was there, her hands immediately cupping Suna’s face and brushing back his hair.

“Geez, Ma. Give him some space. Bet ya won’t be that nice to me and I know you’re not being that nice to Tsumu,” Osamu scoffed.

“Well of course not,” she deadpanned, “yer both idiots. Rintaro is much nicer to your poor mother than her ungrateful children.” Osamu scoffed again.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you, Miya-san,” Suna interjected, undeterred by the Miya’s usual show. She looked over at him again and smiled gently.

“Of course. I’ve spoken with yer ma and she’ll bring over some clothes for ya when she’s off work. Now let’s go boys.”

***

“Shit, Rin,” Osamu woke up from his nap when Suna started heaving beside him. He sat up and rubbed Suna’s back as he leaned over the bed and threw up in the bin beside it. The crinkling plastic and splattering sounds reverberated painfully in Suna’s ears.

“S-sorry,” he spluttered.

“Don’t be,” Osamu whispered.

This was the third time in the last two hours that Suna and Osamu were awoken by Suna’s stomach. When they got back to the Miya’s house, Suna was directed to the guest room. Osamu leant him some clothes so he could change out of his uniform and brought him some water, crackers, and a bin. When he was getting ready to leave, Suna grabbed his wrist and asked him to stay. He wasn’t good at being sick and felt much better knowing Osamu was around to help.

When the fit let up, he rolled back into bed and wrapped his arms around Osamu’s stomach. He was shaking again, but this time it wasn’t because of the fever.

Honestly, he wanted to cry. He was so exhausted and his stomach ached so badly. His migraine was relentless. His body didn’t know whether it was cold or hot and all he wanted was to sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time.

It didn’t help that Atsumu had set up camp for himself in the bathroom that was shared between the twins’ room and the guest room. He said that he didn’t mind the sleeping on the floor as long as it meant he could flush the vomit away immediately, instead of having it sit mocking him in the bin beside his bed.

The two of them seemed to be on opposite cycles. Every time Suna thought he could get some sleep, he could hear Atsumu start puking in the bathroom. Then every time Atsumu had quieted down for a bit, Suna’s stomach attacked him. He felt bad, knowing that Atsumu felt just as bad as he did and had to deal with the same things. Never in his life did he think that he would ever feel bad for stupid Atsumu. His fever must be pretty high.

“Rin,” Osamu sighed. Whenever they were both awake, Osamu’s hands were on Suna’s body somewhere, comforting him with little touches and gentle pats. Suna’s favorite thing was when one of his hands was in his hair, the other moving, ghosting his fingers up and down his back. Right now, one of his hands propped him up in the bed and the other was lying dormant on Suna’s head.

“Rin, are ya crying?”

Suna nodded. Osamu sighed again.

Slowly and carefully, as to not jostle Suna’s stomach he was sure, Osamu wiggled himself into lying down and repositioned Suna so he was laying on Osamu’s chest. Then he started ghosting his fingers up and down Suna’s back and caressing the back of his head. Suna wondered if Osamu knew that was his favorite.

“I’m sorry, Rin. I wish I could help ya,” he soothed and something inside Suna squeezed. He whimpered pathetically and curled further into Osamu’s chest.

With that, the dam broke loose. Hot tears started soaking Osamu’s shirt as Suna sobbed quietly.

“I-I don’t f-feel good,” he cried. His throat hurt, from the bile or being ill in general he wasn’t sure.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” Osamu comforted. If Suna were more cognizant, he probably would’ve blushed at the pet name.

He was sure that he liked Osamu and that Osamu liked him back, but they had never addressed it. They were both content to let things happened naturally, not minding the little more-than-friend’s touches here and there or the less-than-platonic-flirting they did at practice and in class. Being in this situation though and having Osamu being the one to take care of him really solidified how Suna felt.

Osamu let him cry for a while before Suna started hiccuping dangerously again.

“Rintaro, yer gonna make yer self sick again,” he exhaled. As if on cue, Suna gagged.

“N-no,” he moaned. Osamu sat up, taking Suna with him and reached down to pick up the bin beside the bed.

“Ya gotta let it happen, babe.” He put the bin on Suna’s lap. Suna glared at it half-heartedly before he felt his chest tighten uncomfortably and a gag forced its way out.

“How is there even anything left?” Osamu lamented. Suna answered with a painful heave. He also wondered the same thing.

Suna’s stomach felt hollow and yet nausea continued to plague him. The room spun as he heaved. His throat was scraped raw. At this point, he was barely aware of Osamu’s presence behind him. Through the fog, he knew he was there though, and that was reassuring enough.

A gurgle came from his stomach and he moaned. Within a few seconds, a wet, crackling, burp brought up the blue sports drink Osamu gave him to try and keep him hydrated. A few more painful heaves brought up more blue tinted vomit before his stomach seemed to allow him a break.

He collapsed into Osamu’s side, panting.

“My poor Rin,” Osamu cooed, but it was muffled, like he was talking to Suna through a pillow. He pulled Suna into his side and kissed the top of his head. The movements were happening in slow motion though, and Suna was, for the second time that day, thoroughly confused.

“‘Samu?” He tried, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth and he wasn’t sure that he made any sound.

“Yeah?” Osamu asked, rubbing up and down Suna’s arm. And wow….no. He didn’t like that. It set all of his nerves on edge. He tried to squirm away from the unwanted touch.

“Rin?”

Suddenly, everything was Too Much. He pushed on whatever was wrapped around him. The soft fabric beneath his hand itched painfully.

“Rin? What’s wrong?” A loud voice boomed in his ears and he flinched away.

“Le’ go...” he gasped, his chest felt like it was on fire. He weakly pushed again. Whatever was encasing him did not budge. His eyes burned and his surroundings swirled alarmingly.

“N-no,” he choked on something hot and sticky.

Then he was released from the bindings holding him and he felt the world tilt forward for just a second. His chest landed on something and it stopped. He was forced upright, and his field of vision changed. A blurry figure appeared in front of him. Maybe a person?

Something captured his face on either side and his eyes blew wide. Cold. No. Scratchy? No.

“Rinta...he...loo..me...whas…ong?” The voice exploded through his brain again and he whimpered. What was happening? Why was he so hot. It was so hot.

“Ho-t…”

Why was he alone? Wasn’t someone helping him before? Where did that person go? He needed help.

“Shit,” a voice cut through his haze. Osamu?

“It’s….I’ve go….”

Too quickly, he was moving. Whatever caged him before was back around him and he tried in vain to break free.

“‘Samu?” A new voice. He whined.

“Move,” too loud too loud too loud. He was released from the bindings again for just a second before being captured again. This time they were hot. And wet. And they torched his skin. He wriggled in yet another futile attempt to get free. What was that roaring sound?

“Whas...on?” The new voice again. Closer. It hurt his head.

“Hi….feve...high…”

Suna was in a new space. Things were different around him now and the sudden change made him dizzy. He coughed and then his mouth was full. He dropped his jaw heavily and his mouth was empty again.

“Fuck!” A screech and he moaned in response.

He was moving again and then his entire body was being pricked with icicles. It put his surroundings a little more in focus.

“Cold!” He shrieked. He tried to get away from the ice, but was held down.

“Tsumu….sorr...ease..” Another force held him down. It wasn’t as strong, but Suna couldn’t get away from it.

“No no no no…” he repeated, his entire face felt heavy. Was that possible? He writhed in pain. It hurt it hurt he wanted out.

“I’m sorry, Rintaro, I’m sorry,” the first voice shook. It was clearer now. It still pounded in his skull.

“Please please please please,” he said and it hurt his throat.

“Rin, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” It was Osamu. He thrashed harder.

“I’m sorry, Samu, I can’t—“ oh that was Atsumu. One of the heavy things holding him down was gone. He fought against the last one. He almost won. It was gone for a second before there was a splash and something behind him grabbed him around his waist and held him down.

“No please it hurts please.” He begged. Someone was crying.

“Rin, it’s okay. Please calm down.” Osamu was behind him now. Behind him. Oh he must be what’s holding him down. Okay okay. That was fine. But why was he torturing him like this?

“Samu no…” he tried to push away. He was really really tired though.

“Yeah, Rin it’s me. I’m trying to help. Please let me,” Osamu said. But his voice was wrong. It was shaking and tight. Was he upset? He was trying to help? Okay okay. He trusted Osamu. He relaxed into Osamu’s hold. It got tighter.

Suna wasn’t sure how much time went by. He tried really hard to trust Osamu, even though the ice prickled and burned at his skin. Eventually, the pain lessened.

There was a soft whimpering sound and he couldn’t figure out who it was for a while. Then he realized it was him. Next, he felt the tears on his face and his entire body shivering.

Slowly, his environment came into focus. He was in the bathroom, more specifically a bathtub.

Finally, the fog in his brain cleared and he put two and two together. Osamu put him in a cold bath to bring his fever down.

“Osamu,” he said through chattering teeth.

“I’m sorry, Rin, I’m sorry,” Osamu said. His face was buried in Suna’s shoulder, but even still, he could tell hear his voice shaking from the cold. More than that, he sounded desperate. Almost defeated.

Suna hated it. He brought a hand up behind him and placed it on Osamu’s head, letting his own collapse back onto his friend’s shoulder. Osamu stiffened before whipping his head up.

“Rin?” He choked and Suna nodded lethargically.

“Can we please get out?” he whispered. Osamu nodded quickly. He got out and wrapped himself in a towel before helping Suna up. It was then that he realized he was still wearing his clothes. They clung to him and he grimaced at the feel. Osamu enveloped Suna in a fluffy towel and hugged him tightly.

Suna relished in the warmth for a second.

“C’mon, let’s getcha outta these wet clothes,” Osamu murmured and let Suna go. He lead him back to the guest room and sat him down in the desk chair. Suna’s teeth chattered noisily.

Osamu left, only to return a minute later with new clothes.

“Do ya need help?” he asked. Still unnaturally soft. It was starting to unnerve Suna. He nodded in response.

A little while later, Suna and Osamu were both sitting on the bed, dressed in dry clothes. Osamu sat in front of him, rubbing a towel over his hair, trying to get as much of it dry as he could. He was quiet. Suna was content to let things settle before he asked what was wrong. He knew Osamu would either talk to him when he was ready or if Suna pried a little.

His hands stopped moving and Suna was about to ask if he could lay down when Osamu bent forward and buried his face in Suna’s neck again.

Suna was a little lost, but put a hand on Osamu’s still damp hair anyway.

“Still too warm,” Osamu mumbled. He nuzzled his face into Suna’s shoulder. He was starting to get really worried and really agitated at Osamu’s weird behavior.

“Samu,” he demanded softly, “what’s the deal?” Osamu tensed in his hold then he sat up so abruptly it made Suna a little woozy. When the vertigo passed, he was face to face with a furious Osamu.

“What’s the deal?” Osamu seethed. Suna looked at him with wide eyes.

“Rin, you were gone!” Osamu shouted, making Suna’s head pound. Osamu stood up ferociously and started pacing the room. Suna wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

“Osamu, please I don’t feel good. Can you just be straight with me?” Suna complained. Osamu turned on him. His face was contorted and Suna was taken aback when he saw tears rolling down flushed cheeks.

“Osamu, what—“

“Rin, ya were gone. Ya were here but ya just weren’t. Ya didn’t know who I was or who Tsumu was and ya didn’t know where you were and fuck. It was terrifyin’. Ya screamed when I put ya in the tub. Saying that I was torturing ya and that ya were caged and shit,” Osamu sobbed. Suna’s chest twinged.

This was not his Osamu. He brought this man to this state?

“I was so scared and I didn’t know what to do. Ya kept throwin’ up but it didn’t seem like ya even knew it was happenin’,” Osamu continued. He fell to his knees.

“Yer fever was so high and it happened so quickly. Tsumu tried to help, but he’s still sick. My mom left to go get more medicine and I felt so helpless,” he whimpered before devolving into a fit of heart wrenching sobs.

Suna stared at the boy before him, shell-shocked. He eased himself onto the ground and crawled over to Osamu and hugged him. It wasn’t long before Osamu’s arms were wrapped around his middle and he started crying into Suna’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he soothed, “I don’t remember a lot of that. I remember being confused and cold and feeling like I was being held down, but I don’t remember anything else. I’m sorry, Osamu. I’m so sorry.” Osamu nodded, but kept crying and that was okay.

They stayed like that a little while longer, Suna shushing Osamu gently. Eventually, Osamu pulled back and wiped his face. Suna smiled softly at him and he chuckled sadly.

“Sorry,” he sniffled. Suna shook his head.

“I really need to lie down,” he said. He was starting to feel really heavy and nauseas again and it was getting difficult to keep his eyes open.

Osamu nodded and helped him back to the bed. He lay down and Osamu quickly followed, enveloping Suna into his chest. Suna nuzzled his face into the soft fabric of Osamu’s shirt. He felt Osamu place a kiss into the top of his head and give him a little squeeze.

“I’m sorry again,” he mumbled, half asleep already.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad yer alright. I’m sorry I freaked out on ya.” He stroked his hand up and down Suna’s back.

“‘S’okay. I’m just that important,” Suna yawned. Osamu chuckled and it warmed Suna’s heart and calmed his mind.

“Ya sure are. Go to sleep. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Osamu said. With his blessing, Suna fell asleep.

***

Later that night, Atsumu would show them a picture of the two of them cuddled up and drooling on each other that he took when he mustered up the strength to come check on things. Osamu yelled at him but Suna asked him to send it to him. He may have set it as his phone’s home screen.

By the next morning, Suna woke up to the sound of Osamu heaving beside him. It was unpleasant and made his stomach turn. Before he realized what was happening, he was sprinting to the bathroom and pushing Atsumu out of the way and emptying his stomach into the toilet.

“Sunarin, please,” Atsumu choked before turning to the bath tub.

Miya-san ran into the room and surveyed the situation.

“My poor boys,” she sighed, “I’m gonna go set up the livin’ room so I can watch all three of ya.”

And so Suna spent the next few days camped out in the Miya’s living room. Soon enough, Atsumu was well enough to help out his mom here and there. And when Suna was feeling up to it, he returned the favor and rubbed Osamu’s back as he puked disgustingly.

“Ya can go home if ya want,” Osamu panted between rounds. Suna shook his head.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you, stupid.”

Osamu smiled gratefully before his cheeks puffed out and he turned back to the bin. Suna laughed and kissed the back of his sweaty neck.

Maybe they didn’t define their relationship with labels, but Suna was pretty positive that he wanted to stick with Osamu for the rest of his life.

[psychewithwings]

Confessions: Shikamaru NSFW

WARNINGS: Sex, dirty talk

This fic is brought to you by  ‘______ song slowed down’ videos on youtube.

You had waited for over an hour at the park bench before he responded to your many text messages.

Where r u?

U coming?

Hello?                         Cant make it                         Sorry

You didn’t respond. You were crushed. You had talked with him the night before about this and had hardly slept. This was the first guy you had liked since you’d broken up with your ex and he hadn’t shown? You began to walk home but a sudden fear of being alone caused you to change direction. You walked to Shikamaru’s apartment instead, figuring that it was only a little after 9:00… You sent him a quick text:

Can I come over?

It was delivered but unopened. Typical for Shikamaru. His apartment was on the third floor, on the left. As you approached you could see that his lights were on and you felt relieved. You climbed the stairs and checked you phone. He still hadn’t opened the message. You hoped that he wouldn’t be too annoyed with your sudden appearance. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. You stood there and waited.  Eventually the door opens. He’s standing there shirtless with black sweatpants on, the waistband of his boxers showing. He raises an eyebrow at you, “yes?” You start trying to tell him what happened but you’re so embarrassed. His eyes scanned your face, as he analyzed your every move. “He didn’t-“ you started, “he didn’t show,” he finished. You nodded, laughing a little at the irony. Shikamaru wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you into his living room. “You wanna finish this movie with me?” he asked and you nodded grateful that he’s so understanding. 

You slid onto the couch and Shikamaru handed you a blanket. He sat down next to you and propped his feet on the coffee table which was littered with half empty snack bags and containers. He grabbed a box of cookies and you rested your head on his shoulder. He pushed the remote and the movie began to play. You sat there in silence trying to figure out what was going on in the plot of the film. “Hmm?” he offered you a cookie and you took one. “Is there something wrong with me?” you asked as you bit into the Nilla Wafer. Shikamaru shook his head, a cookie in his mouth. “Theres nothing wrong with you, guy’s a drag,” he offered. You nodded but you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. “It’s just that this happens a lot… I would be the common denominator.” Shikamaru set down the box of cookies. “Y/n, listen to me, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you… you just pick the wrong guys.” You were feeling prickly upon hearing this. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” you said staring at him brow furrowed. Shikamaru rolled his eyes, “you know what I mean, don’t take it personally.” Okay he was really starting to get on your nerves. “Do you think I choose this on purpose? You think I want people who treat me poorly?” You turned towards him awaiting for his answer. “Fuck! Thats not what I meant okay? But if you want honesty, and I think you need some, yeah, I do think that you pick people like that on purpose. But because I don’t think you understand what you deserve.” You felt tears pricking your eyes, you were ready to be angry and have it out with him but you just felt stunned. “W-what?” you questioned. His eyes were intense on yours, and for a split second they flicked down to look at your mouth. He was sitting forward, as if he was awaiting something. Then he grabbed your shoulder with one hand and the back of your head with the other. He pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours. It was shocking, like an explosion. His lip moved with such skill as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. He pulled back to gauge your reaction. “You deserve to be treated like this,” he said and he kissed you again. His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, allowing him to feel your tongue against his. It felt so good to have him this close, but it was also confusing and becoming an all consuming desire. Your hands tangled in his pony tail. He gently bit down on your bottom lip again and this time you let out a soft sigh. He growled in response and moved his mouth down to your neck. He nipped and kissed his way to your collar bone, “mmm, so good,” you said softly. He looked up at you and said, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long…” You moved your hands down to his shoulders, “Shikamaru.” He looked at you his face falling a bit, perhaps he was expecting the worst. “Do you actually… like me? Or do you just wanna hook up with me?” you asked softly. He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart was hammering against his ribs. “Y/n, I like you… more than you even know.”

You didn’t need to say anything in response, instead you climbed over him and kissed his lips. His hands began to caress your back and stomach under your shirt. You sat on his hips and pulled your shirt over your head. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he gripped on your waist. His hand moved up to your breasts and he brushed his thumb around the cup of your bra. He sat up, tugged the cup down, and took your nipple in his mouth. He pulled at it with his teeth and you moaned, “oh- oh my god.” He used his tongue to move to your other breast where he repeated the process. Every swirl of his tongue on your skin was done with care. He wasn’t gentle, but every time he touched you it was conscious. He trailed his kisses up to your neck and he bit down just below your jaw. His fingers trailed to the wet spot that was soaking your panties. “Oh you’re so fucking wet… All for me?” He started rubbing your clit through your panties. “It’s all yours Shikamaru,” you whined. “Good girl,” he praised. He started rubbing harder and your hands reached down and began  stroking his cock through his pants. He laid you down and removed his clothes, then your panties. He groaned upon seeing you for the first time. He couldn’t resist and his fingers sunk into you. “Ah- oh- Shikamaru,” you cried as they curled inside you. His other hand stroked his cock. It was as if he was so full of desire that he wasn’t sure where to go next. He pulled his fingers out of you and sucked them. “You taste so good,” he said, “taste.” He stuck his fingers in your mouth next, the combination of you and his spit driving you wild. You rolled your tongue around his fingers and his eyes rolled back in his head. When his eyes met yours next, they were dark with lust. He was over you and then inside you in seconds. You moaned as his cock filled you. He began to fuck you hard. Your nails were digging into his back… Was it even possible for a man to go this deep? He kissed you through your ragged breaths. “You’re-so-fuck-ing-good-“ you said as he continued to slam into you with a relentless pace. You felt yourself getting close, the feeling of clenching around his cock driving you delirious. It was right as you were about to cum that he began to slow down and soften his thrusts. “Wh-what are you-?” Shikamaru laughed softly. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about this? Getting to kiss you and be inside you? I’m gonna take my time with you.” You began to push your hips into his. The more you pushed towards him the more he pulled away. “Please,” you whined, caressing a hands down his cheek. He smiled and much too slowly sunk back into you. He stopped moving then altogether. “Pleeease Shikamaru, please, please, please.” You peppered kisses on his face as you begged him. “Please what, princess?” He was driving you crazy. You ground your hips into his hoping for any kind of friction. “Please fuck me, please let me cum all over your cock, please cum inside me.” You figured you could play his game a bit, tease him with words and ideas while he teased you with his cock. He began to pick up the pace slightly; you could see in his eyes that he was intrigued by your words. “I need you so fucking bad Shikamaru,” you begged. He groaned in response and began to slam his hips into yours. Your built up desire was starting to break. You came almost instantly, hard, squeezing his cock. He did not stop his relentless pace, “did you cum already, sweet girl? I think you can take more,” he said as his hand reached for your clit. He began to rub soft circles as he fucked you. You were surprised by how quickly the fire returned to your abdomen. Your breath hitched in your throat, “cum for me again, let me feel it again.” It was as if your body was listening more than your brain. You’d hardly processed what he said before you were squeezing his cock again. This time you could tell he was close to his own release. His eyes shut tight and his left hand gripped your hip. He moaned your name as he painted your insides.

That was the first of four rounds that night. You woke up naked and in his arms, on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your legs were intertwined with his, and the throw blanket was wrapped around you. You weren’t sure how long you’d slept exactly, just that it was more of a nap than a full nights sleep. You moved slightly and felt his lips on your neck. “Y/n?” he said, his voice groggy. “Hmm?” You rolled over to face him. “I want you to be mine,” he said without hesitation. A smile crossed your face, “I’m all yours… as long as I can call you mine too.” He took your hand and placed it over his heart. “I’m yours,” he whispered.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [07]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption w.c; 3.5k a/n; the beginning of the end! like my mama said while i was cleaning my room, it has to get messy before it gets clean! that being said this is a series for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! now that we’ve gotten this far, would you say our heroine has truly lost her mind? 

[06] [07] [08] -> masterpost

Something is off and Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what, and therefore he has no way to approach it. 

HIs knee is bobbing uncontrollably as he throws his phone back and forth from one palm to another. He’s in a recording studio downtown, in an unfamiliar area that made Jungkook thankful that he decided to leave an hour early. He hears some hushed voices from another room, and he tries not to fiddle around too much as the chair in the waiting area is rickety and on its last limb. 

You texted him this morning with your usual pleasantries, saying you had a fun lesson to teach today and you couldn’t wait to set up your classroom. You’re also equally excited for Jungkook’s first recording session, and you urge him to “knock the socks off this producer guy.” 

But since that night you slept over, you haven’t brought up the tears you shed in his sheet. You’ve been painfully amicable, insisting that you’ll tell him when the time is right. 

Jungkook wants to be patient for you, and he will be. But he doesn’t know how to help you, help the two of you move forward without any context. He gets that the memories that are holding you back are painful, but he wishes to help ease that burden. Jungkook’s head starts to spin at all the possibilities that he could get you to feel comfortable enough to talk. 

“Hey,” Jungkook’s reverie shatters when a small guy in all black comes up to meet him. Jungkook shoots up, hand immediately darting out to shake the older one’s hand. He chuckles, “Jihoon sent me your demo last week. You have some killer vocals.” 

“Thanks,” he replies bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m Jungkook, by the way.” 

“Right,” the producer nods, gesturing for him to follow him down the hall. “I’m Min Yoongi.” 

Jungkook nearly trips over himself. He’s heard that name before, he’s sure of it. He tries to wrack his brain for the memory, something he’s brushed to the side after so long.

“Jungkook!” you cried. He was paralyzed when you first met, a frazzled woman shoving herself on him like you’ve known him his entire life. He didn’t know why you were trying to hide him, but you looked so terrified he couldn’t formulate a quick enough response. “Kook, what the fuck? It’s broad daylight, you can’t be out like this without a mask! Where on earth did you hide that bike? Dispatch will have your ass and the devil Min Yoongi’ll kill you again for sneaking out—” 

“Uh, Yoongi?” the pair step inside his little studio, neat and monochromatic. There’s a comfy couch in the corner, and Jungkook seats himself there while Yoongi slides into his rolling chair. “Do you by any chance know someone named y/n?

Yoongi shrugs, too busy going through his computer files to take notice of Jungkook’s wheels turning. “No, should I?” 

“Guess not,” Jungkook mutters, “what about Dispatch? Are you involved with them?” 

The older one swirls around in his chair, knuckles nestled in his milky cheeks. “Is this an interrogation?” 

Suddenly feeling hot, Jungkook shakes his head. “Sorry.” 

“But to answer your question, thankfully no,” Yoongi leans back in his seat, staring at the ceiling, “thankfully they’ve been smoked out ever since they got sued for defamation against that SNSD member, among dozens of other women. That was what, two years ago? But my artists are always squeaky clean.” 

Jungkook grapples the pieces in his brain, feeling the sudden itch to text you. 

“You’re askin’ a lot of weird questions, kid,” Yoongi says simply, “but since you have the voice of a fuckin’ angel on Cloud 9, I’m willing to overlook it.” 

The younger one nods wordlessly, letting Yoongi go on a tangent as he describes the song he has in mind and how he wants to approach it. He tries to focus, and intermittently fails as he falls in and out of thought, always coming back to you. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Hoseok, I feel it.” 

“Feel what, nausea? Heartburn, indigestion? Upset stomach? Diarrhea?” 

“Is that supposed to be a joke, Noona?” Bogum is sitting next to you on the picnic blanket laid out for the both of you. Today was supposed to be Hoseok’s off day, but Bogum’s mom offered Hoseok a pretty penny to take Bogum for the day while she had to attend a last-minute work project. 

“Yes, Bogummie. Although it was a terrible joke,” you admonish, sending a playful grin to Hoseok. 

“Do you like my new shoes?” with the attention span of a squirrel, Bogum hops up and jumps up and down on the grass. His new Elmo sneakers light up and make little squeaking sounds, “isn’t it cool! My shoes talk while I walk!” 

You giggle, “Yeah, now we’ll never lose you when you go off to the bathroom,” you reach for his sippy cup and instruct him to drink water, “go play on the slide, we’ll watch you from here!” 

Bogum immediately agrees, shuffling away with rhythmic squeaks from his sneakers as he bumbles over to the small playground on campus. Without the presence of children, you feel Hoseok’s eyes train on you as you try to formulate a response. 

“I don’t know, I woke up this morning and I felt a little too… settled?” you taste the word on your tongue, hoping it matches with the turmoil going through your brain. You continue to stare at Bogum, not a care in the world as he goes down the slide for the nth time, “my life isn’t moving forward anymore. It’s so, peaceful?” you nod at your question, then turn to smile sadly at Hoseok. 

“This might be the last time we see each other.” 

While you don’t know the rules and regulations of whatever fate or magic that brought you here, you always knew that this time had to end. You feel like you’ve experienced enough in this small lifetime to feel this kind of contentment. Any further into this life and you could change it however way you wanted to. 

You didn’t want to do that. You wanted to go home. 

Hoseok’s smile is equally sombre, but he plays it off with a scoff. “I guess this is the part where you leave me and I have to go on with the rest of my life questioning whether these past two months were real or a crazy drug trip while I spend nighttimes TL;DR-ing our story on Reddit.” 

You break into laughter, clutching your stomach as you try your hardest not to think too heavily of this moment. “Hobi, you won’t be alone in this. I’m going to tell Jungkook tonight,” you confess, “I don’t know how he’s gonna take it, but try to be there for him. For me?” 

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, “In your world, were me and Jungkook close?” 

You hide your grin by taking a sip of your water bottle, “Very close. He sobbed himself a river when you wanted to quit the group.” 

“Hm, maybe we’ll be close someday too.” 

“Maybe,” you pull out your phone, instructing Hoseok to do the same as he waits for whatever you’re about to send him. 

Hoseok phone pings and he opens the document you just shared with him. His brows knit at the neat notes, zooming in the small font. “What is this?” 

“For when the other me comes back in my place,” you lean over him to point out the details highlighted in light blue on your digital document. There’s addresses, student details, lesson agendas, even the money you spent while you used the bank account. “it’s in her drive, but I think she might… freak out regardless. If I really got hit by that oncoming truck, I don’t know what she’s going to be feeling. At least this is a quick cheat-sheet, so she can catch up on the past two months and continue on with her life.” 

You try to tamp down the guilt that you feel, knowing your alter-self could be in a far more dangerous situation than you right now. 

“So if you can stop by the apartment tomorrow—Taehyung and I changed the keycode a couple days ago, maybe bring over some coffee so you two can talk it out?” 

“Of course, don’t worry about us,” and Hoseok starts to get teary, which makes you get teary as he says his next words, “once you go back, I want you to be happy, okay? We can’t exactly text or—or F-Facetime like we always—oh shit,” he shoves the sleeve of his hoodie in his eyes, “w-why does it feel like you’re dying or something?” 

You throw your arms around him, letting him cry on your shoulder. You sigh into his amber bangs, his long fingers digging into your wrist but you don’t care. Knowing letting go was going to be hard, you’ve emotionally prepped yourself since this morning, but it doesn’t hurt any less when you’ve become so close with Hoseok. 

“Who knows?” you run your fingers through his hair, in an attempt to soothe him, “maybe I’ll have another taste of that angel wine. You’ll show up in my dreams or something.” 

He shakes his head, “Hell no. What if Jungkook really decks you with his motorcycle the second time around?” 

“True,” you say, “I’ll miss you, Hobi.” 

“Do me a favor when you get back, yeah?” he breaks apart from your embrace, squeezing your shoulders. “Go find me and try harder to be my friend, alright?” 

You deflate a little, “But you’re so cool, I’m a little intimidated. It’s different when you’re surrounded by kids like a mama duck.” 

“I know I’m cool, but just try,” he says, “and I’ll try to be your friend again, too.” 

The two of you hug again, this time not saying anything. At this time Bogum waddles up to the two of you, sweaty and damp as he collapses onto the blanket. The two of you laugh as Hoseok presses a paper towel to the boy’s head. 

Bogum scrunches his nose, “Why are you crying?” 

You sigh, reaching to lightly pinch his forearm. “I’m going to be gone for a little bit. So take care of Hoseok while I’m gone, okay?” 

Bogum frowns, but puffs his chest out and nods, “When will I see you again?” 

Instead of you answering, Hoseok cuts in for you. “Soon,” he says with finality, eyes darting between you and a satisfied Bogum. He looks at you and mouths, we’ll figure it out. 

This time around, you know you don’t have to worry. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Jungkook’s waiting in your room,” Taehyung jabs a thumb in the direction of your shared hallway. “Probably passed out and took a nap.” 

“Oh?” you check your phone, “he’s early then.” 

Taehyung shrugs, the strap off his backpack sliding down to his elbows. “Looked a little frazzled. Maybe he had a long day.” 

“Yeah, he said he had his first recording session. Maybe it was overwhelming.” 

Taehyung nods, moving past you to get to the door. “I gotta go back to the studio,” he grimaces, slipping on his loafers, “literally don’t give two fucks about Tiffany’s seniority. Her fashion taste is complete garbage and I’m ready to spend the rest of the night fighting her for it.”

“Good luck,” and in your haste, you wrap your arms around his waist. 

Taehyung’s surprised by the sudden bout of affection, but he returns eagerly as he squeezes you back. “See you in the morning, we’ll go finish that Kim Seokjin drama we started.” 

You force a smile back, “Yeah, see you.” 

You don’t leave the little space by the door until you’re sure that Taehyung is completely gone from your vicinity. Relaxing your shoulders, you pull off your layers and bag and place them on your corner of the living room. 

Padding quietly, you take your time in turning the doorknob to your bedroom in case Jungkook is still sleeping. 

To your surprise Jungkook is not sleeping, however. He’s hovered over your desk, looking up at you from your yellow notebook. 

“Y’know,” he says, tone sharp, “you really shouldn’t just leave your stuff laying out here like this. Anyone can read it.” 

You bristle, shutting the door behind you even though Taehyung was already long gone. Maybe you wanted to contain everything in your room, hoping Jungkook wouldn’t run away at the story you had behind this. 

“Usually people don’t come into my room to read stuff off my desk.” 

“What is this?” he asks, “some sci-fi novel you’re concocting? Why do you have so much information about me?” 

Over the course of your two months, you’ve added more and more to your logbook. It was the little things at first, like the differences between the Hoseoks and the Jimins. But then you felt like you were starting to forget your life back in W1, so you got to writing memories. Stupid, little tidbits about your relationship with Jungkook. Or the brands of wine you and Sehlyung would fawn over during your nights out. 

But Jungkook is pointing to a particular page in your notebook, fingers digging so hard that his nails are turning white. You step further into the bedroom, taking slow steps as you approach your desk. 

One sleepless night, you took it upon yourself to write the lyrics to Still With You. The lyrics are written plain as day, glittered with star and moon designs and a little air conditioner decorating the margins.  

Your heart drops as you see the hurt marring Jungkook’s features. 

“I haven’t told anyone about the songs I’ve written,” he says, pain dripping from his voice, “not even Yoongi. How on earth could you have found my song? How could you have known that I wrote it one night against my air conditioner?” 

You feel like cotton is blocking your throat, “Jungkook, I wanted to tell you tonight—” 

“What, that you really are a crazy stalker?” he steps back, whirling around so now he’s the one in the direction of the door. He takes two steps back, closer to the exit. “That I’ve been so dumb to believe your lies? That I should’ve left you on the street? That you still see me in whatever Jungkook you once knew and now you’re taking it out on me?” 

“Jungkook, please listen—” 

“Because now I know you and I can’t work out,” he spits with finality, hands finally finding the doorknob, “we will never work out—” 

“I know!” you finally scream, and Jungkook falters. You’re shaking, but not erratically. You’re sobbing, shoulders wracking as you let your body collapse against the desk chair. This conversation feels startlingly familiar, as if you’re back to square one. “Dammit Jungkook, why won’t you listen? I knew we would never work out.” 

Jungkook itches to hold you, and comfort you. Instead he sticks by the doorknob, feeling true to his findings. After all, the evidence is all in your notebook. While hard to decipher, it’s clear as day that you always knew a lot more than you’ve led on. He wants to ask more, but he’s far too hurt to continue tonight. 

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers, and slams the door to your bedroom shut. 

Your body gives out, and you feel two tons heavier as you sink into your uncomfortable desk chair. Jungkook’s gone. Your heart’s not so much broken, but you feel awful for getting him mixed up into this. Seeing the betrayal and pain in his eyes is heartbreaking, especially coming from you, someone who doesn’t even belong here. 

The whole room seems to be suffocating you, swallowing you whole. A shelf filled with medical textbooks and science jargon. A corkboard filled with pictures of your friends and family, all memories that don’t belong to you. This isn’t your life. 

You need to get out of here, now. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1, four months before. 

Namjoon is sitting between Jungkook and you, like two children and a parent having to intervene. Only this time, you two are being child-like adults and Namjoon is taking up all the leg space sitting in the middle of the back row. 

Jungkook feels like he’s being squeezed through the open window, Namjoon refusing to adjust to his equally large size. He glares over his shoulder, finding you are paying no mind. He scoffs when he sees you nuzzled up against Namjoon’s blazer, babbling like a brook because you’re too wasted to form coherent sentences. 

“What were you going to achieve by doing that, huh?” Namjoon’s voice is devastatingly low, not bothering to look at the younger man. 

He sighs, letting the night breeze tickle his loose strands as he recalls what he did do. It’s all too clear on his end. Entering the bar was easy, after a few rounds with the gang Jungkook decided it was time to mingle. It doesn’t take long for a pretty girl to slide up next to him, with practiced ease finding her way to slot herself between his stretched out legs. And he let her. 

And you? You were livid, of course. He could practically feel the burn of your gaze singing at the back of his head. But you weren’t going to cause a scene, instead you favored Taehyung’s inability to relent and inhiberation to the highest degree. 

Which is why you’re all going home early, before it got too messy. 

Jungkook doesn’t answer in the quiet car, but your soft sobs do. 

You probably haven’t even registered that Jungkook is in the same vehicle. After all, they had to haul your deadweight into the seat because you could barely walk. 

“Why, wh-why Joonie?” your voice is muffled by the thick fabric of Namjoon’s tweed overcoat, nails digging into the seams. 

“Why what, bub?” 

“Why doesn’t he want me?” 

Jungkook’s throat clenches. 

“He’s just stupid,” Jungkook feels dumb, listening to Namjoon and you speak as if they’re all not pressed up against each other like skinny sardines in a too-hot van. “Not to be intrusive, but the two of you are in a complicated relationship.” 

You hum in agreement, your previous drunkenness mellowing out and turning into a tired haze. When you finally arrive at the apartment complex, Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to be the one to carry you upstairs. He barely gives Jungkook the opportunity as he sweeps you into his arms, making the way to your room. Jungkook follows the both of you like a stubborn duckling. 

When Namjoon manages to get the door unlocked, he turns to Jungkook. “You should go up with everyone else. Don’t bother coming in here unless you’re gonna apologize.” 

The door is wide open, and Namjoon straightens up as you float away to your bathroom, insisting you can wobble your way to get your makeup and clothes off. Jungkook tries his best to look confident in front of his elder, steeling his features. 

“I’ll apologize, you go up first.” 

Namjoon pulls his wristwatch out, “You got fifteen minutes. You can’t stay here tonight.” 

Jungkook flinches when he coolly brushes past him, slamming the door on his way out. He then busies himself in your small kitchenette, finding your favorite Hello Kitty mug and pouring you a glass of water. He places aspirin and the water next to your bedside table, ready when you need it. 

It’s been ten minutes since then, and he’s running out of time. Standing in front of your bathroom, he makes a move to knock. No answer. He can’t hear the water running, or faint lo-fi hip hop that you always liked to listen to before getting ready for bed. 

Taking a chance, he turns the knob only to find it unlocked. You’re sitting on the floor, knees hugged and only in a long t-shirt. 

“You can go,” you mumble into your knees, not wanting to make eye contact. “I’m fine.” 

Instead he fits himself into your bathroom, sitting next to you. You don’t bother to move and make room, so Jungkook has to squish himself to fit. “Listen, pretty girl–” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

He sighs, “I’m sorry. I was being a dick and you don’t deserve that. I disregarded our feelings and that isn’t fair to either of us.” 

“I said it was fine,” he sees how hard you’re glaring at the tile on your wall, nothing interesting but your eyes are ablaze. “I know why you did it.” 

He stays silent. 

“You want to push me away before we get hurt,” you state, “but you don’t get to decide that on your own, Jungkook. I’ll give you time, but don’t wag yourself in front of my face like I’m some shameless puppy begging for attention,” you get up shakily, and you hold out a hand in refusal to Jungkook’s immediate reaction, “it’s either all of me or none of me.” 

And for the second time that night the door slams in Jungkook’s face, forcing himself to make a decision. 

[tommysparker]

24 and Counting

Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

A/N: Normally I try to keep my fics gender neutral but for smut like this I will be writing the reader as female, mainly because it’s just easier. If you want a male!reader smut feel free to request it. That being said, i am still a virgin and not very experienced so if this is bad, especially with how rushed the ending is, I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :)

Warnings: smut, oral (m) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), hints of/implied sub!tom but not really, couple no-no words

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, confidence radiating as the sunlight trickled in through the cracks in the curtain. 

Today was Tom’s birthday, and you wanted to do something special. Your fellow roommates had already planned out a party with his family and a few close friends. Thankfully the whole Covid situation was easing up and you could allow a couple people over without raising the curve too much. 

The party wasn’t till later into the day, however, so you decided to prepare your own gift for him, one you knew he would definitely cherish. 

Tom groaned lightly as he stirred awake, covering his eyes to avoid the light pulling him out of his sleep. He reached across the bed lazily, trying to pull you closer but froze when he only felt the bed sheets. “Y/n..?” He called out huskily. 

When the groggy voice reached your ears, you took one last glance at the mirror before smirking. It’s showtime. You strode to the foot of the bed, crawling on to the mattress slowly. 

Tom felt the bed dip and opened his eyes hesitantly, only to be met with the sight of your nude body and a little ribbon bow-tie in your hair. His body felt like it just got splashed with cold water with how awake he suddenly felt. Despite that, his brain was still lagging a bit. “What- I mean...huh?” He stumbled, eyes wandering widely as he took in your naked figure. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” You said sultry, hands rubbing the inside of his thighs as you lay between his legs. Lucky for you, it wasn’t uncommon for Tom to sleep naked, especially after the little pre-birthday celebration you and the boys had last night. You watched him, eyes full of adoration but smile dripping with mischief. 

Oh yeah, birthday. Right. That explains it. Tom thought to himself. He remembered how he woke you up on your birthday, only fair that you return the favour...or get revenge. He really hoped it was the former. 

“Y’know...I was planning on you waking up with your cock already down my throat,” You shrugged, hand inching closer and closer to his growing hard-on, “But you just looked so pretty I figured I’d let you sleep in a bit longer and let you wake up on your own time.” 

The birthday boy breathed heavily as he felt the bits of pressure against the head of his dick. He reached down to tangle his fingers in your hair, silently begging for more. “How kind of you, darling.” 

Your smile widened, pressing a feather-light kiss to the side of his cock and ghosting your lips up towards the tip. “So, 24 huh? Getting to be such a big boy now, Tommy. Suppose I should give you your present now?”

Tom nodded eagerly, hips bucking as your hand came in contact with this now-throbbing member. If there was one thing that drove him to the brink of insanity, it was those god-damn barely-there touches. Knowing this, you usually took full advantage of it. 

Dramatically sticking your tongue out, you flicked the edge of it against his head, emitting a small groan-mixed-whine from the boy in front of you. “Now, baby boy. Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to give you your special birthday licks, and you aren’t gonna cum until I’m finished. Understood?” 

Tom whined pitfully, but nodded nonetheless. You loved to tease him, and god have mercy that you wouldn’t prolong whatever you had planned. 

“Oh, and you also have to count each one. If you skip a number or mess up, that’s all you’re getting for this morning.” 

Well, fuck.

And so it began. Your hand cupping his balls as your mouth descended onto his cock. He was practically leaking already, and it took almost all of your will-power not to lick up every bead of pre-cum that dribbled down his shaft. You were planning on making this game last. 

The thing was, there would have been no issue until you told him he had to count. That was the cruelest thing you could do to a man, especially on his birthday. Tom is so responsive, his mind goes practically blank and is flooded with euphoria, so forcing him to actually use his brain instead of being able to lay back and fall into the warmth of pleasure was utter torture to him.

“O-one..” You heard him breathe out as you finally gave in and licked a strip up along the underside, following a small bit of pre-cum and revenge has never tasted so sweet. 

This continued on for what felt like hours to Tom, your mouth moving up and down on his cock, hand pumping in time and on occasion he would feel your tongue against his burning skin, and each time he nearly forgets to count the next number down. What’s next? Five? 15? He couldn’t tell anymore. All he could focus on was how fucking good your throat felt around him. 

You could tell he was about to lose it, the way his words jumbled together, abs twitching and the grip on your hair was a dead give away. Normally, you would’ve pushed his hand away but considering it was his birthday you let it slide. You found yourself finding it harder and harder to ignore the aching between your legs as you pleasured your lover. 

“Oh fuck...uh s-seventeen? No- eighteen? Shit...love please m’ gonna- m’ gonna cum- oh!” He cried out when you gave a rather harsh suck on his tip. He looked down at you with hooded eyes, back arching off the bed and he swore he saw stars. 

You eyed him closely while you licked your way down his cock, mouthing at his balls while your hand kept him stimulated. The sight of him falling apart at your touch would never get old. 

“L-Love, pleasepleaseplease, god- fuck, can I cum? Please, l-let me cum,” He begged desperately. He was at your complete mercy. “It’s my birthday, please.” 

You hummed thoughtfully, weighing the options in your head as you continued to tease your boyfriend. On one hand, you wanted him to pay for the relentless teasing he put you through on your birthday, but on the other you wanted more than anything to jump on his cock and ride him into oblivion. You decided on a third option, both. 

Tom’s brain barely registered how many times he felt your tongue hit his dick. The movement was swift, and he was so far gone in the cloud of lust he barely remembered the consequences of forgetting to keep track. “U-uh….n-nineteentwentytwenty-onetwenty-twotwenty-three,” He was so close. He could practically taste the sweet relief. “Oh god darling please just one more...one more baby please.” 

“You gonna cum baby boy? You wanna feel my tongue on your cock?” 

“Yes yesyesplease,” He continued pleading. Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes from how hard he was holding back his orgasm. You hummed, the vibrations triggering his nerves in all the right ways and he was so close. 

It amazed him how his body reacted to your touch. You played him like an instrument, pushing all the right spots to get him to moan out. You could read him like a picture book, and he wondered how someone so amazing as you could stand to be with someone like him. You were there for him through and through, and he adored you for it. 

But in moments like these, where he was right on the edge, he couldn’t hate you more. Of course, he doesn’t actually hate you, it was just the sexual frustration that was starting to take a toll. He was an impatient man, after all. 

You noticed right as you pulled away, rubbing his thighs while he squirmed and whimpered. You smirked, gripping his cock and bringing it up to your lips. Locking eyes with him, brown and desperate meeting dark with lust and mischievous, you stuck your tongue out and licked a final, long stripe up from his balls to his tip, swirling around his head before pulling away. 

Tom moaned, bucking up into the air. “Fuck...make me cum, darling come on please i-it’s starting to hurt.” That wasn’t a total lie, the builded pressure in his balls was starting to ache, but it was a good kind of ache, not that he would ever admit it. 

“You were so good, handsome. I think it’s time for the real gift,” you smiled as you straddled his waist, pumping his cock while you lined it up at your pussy. “Can you feel how wet I am for you?” 

He definitely could, you were practically dripping and all he wanted to do in that moment was bury his dick in your pussy as deep as he could. Turns out, you were gonna do that for him. 

You slowly sank down, giving yourself a moment to adjust. In that time slot, Tom lost all self-control he had and grabbed your face, smashing your lips onto his. A noise of surprise escaped your throat before reciprocating. 

Tom held your waist while you started moving on his cock, moaning as he felt your walls tighten around him. “Fuck, Y/n m’ not gonna last…” 

You hummed in response, kissing his neck and increasing the intensity of your actions. “Give it to me, birthday boy.” 

With that, Tom flipped you over and started pounding into you, chasing his release. He buries his face in your neck, leaving chaste kisses and moaning freely against your skin. He felt your nails dig into his shoulders, hot scratches trailing down his back as he thrusted harder. 

You were a moaning mess beneath him, a small cry passing your lips every time he hit that spot. It didn’t take long for him to release a final moan before cumming, triggering your own orgasm. 

Tom pulled out carefully once you both finished, dropping onto the bed and panting heavily. “Best. Present. Ever.” He grinned at the ceiling, turning his head to look at you. 

You were already gazing at him, taking in his post-sex look and dear god it was gorgeous. “Happy birthday, Tommy.” You smiled, cupping his cheek with one hand and pulling him in for a light kiss before getting up. 

“Hey where are you going?” 

“To shower. You coming?” 

You were going to be the death of him, and he loved you for it. 

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Happy Birthday Tom Holland!!

All: @greenorangevioletgrass @allegra-writes @soraitmnt @worldoftom @farfromparker @angel-spidey @parkerpeter24 @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @the-panwitch @rebekkah4766 @hollandsamor @spideygirl2003 @theactualprincessofeverything

Tom Holland: @rubberducky-jrr @quaksonhehe

[makeusfreefromthisfandom]

First of all i want to give a shout out to @ayumiko​ for letting me use her amazing gifs in my writing! I mean just look at them! Be sure to go check out her stuff <3 (the middle gif’s credit goes to @atticwraith)

Overlooked | Ikuya Kirishima x Reader

Anon asked: Hi! Can I request an Ikuya x reader? Maybe a reader who’s really outgoing and stuff, kind of like the total opposite of him. At first he’s kind of annoyed by them, but then he slowly warms up and actually misses them when they’re out sick from school. He goes and visits and things go from there! As a fic writer myself, I thank you so much for providing for fandoms! You’re doing amazing.

A/n: sorry if the ending is a bit tacky, I didn’t know exactly how to end it off

Genre: a bit angsty? fluff at the end

Word count: ~2k this ones a bit long

“Catch up with you guys later ok?” You waved your teammates goodbye as soon as you had spotted a familiar head of deep sea green hair.

“Hey Ikuya!” He turned around and was met with your big smile, nodding in response. You quickly made your way over to him before noticing a third party.

“Oh, hello to you too Hiyori.” Your smile was returned with a little wave of his own. Teeth clenched, because we know he’s internally screaming

“First name basis huh?” Hiyori asked tartly, however a smile still present on his features.

“No need to be so uptight! We’ve all been given a name for a reason, so we can be called by it! By the way we’ve all been acquainted long enough.” You nudged Hiyori slightly in return, glancing at Ikuya, who just cared about making it to class on time. “Which is why I’m constantly telling you two to also call me (f/n)!”

“Hmmm.” Hiyori gave you a closed eyed smile before picking up the pace to catch up with his friend. I’m telling’ ya, internal screaming.

“Hey you two! Wait up!”

Students shuffled into the classroom, you took your usual seat next to Ikuya. You were taking notes when something had caught your eye. “Woah! You’re a really good artist Ikuya!” You leaned in next to him, pointing at the little doodles on the edge of his paper. Instinctively, the boy grabbed his notebook, blocking it from your view.

“T-They’re nothing.” He stated simply and went back to writing, this time with a protective arm shielding his work.

“...you could just take the compliment you know..” you muttered looking away. You felt a tap on your shoulder, making your eyes light up, only to find that it was just another classmate asking for help. You sighed and leaned over behind Ikuya to try and explain the problem.

The bell rang not too soon after. You and Ikuya began gathering your things, fingers brushing slightly in the process. You had managed to stumble out a sorry, but found that the boy was already halfway out the door; oblivious to you, with a small dust of pink hinted on his cheeks.

The next few days were the same, school work, friends, volleyball (yes you play volleyball k? I was watching haikyuu. I couldn’t help it), more volleyball, and failed attempts at a conversation with Ikuya.

“Hey Ikuya! Check it out! There’s a new cafe that’s opened nearby, some friends and I are gonna go check it out, you wanna come?”

“No, sorry I’ve got plans.”

Each day made your heart sink even more, along with the pile of stress, schoolwork and volleyball weighing on your shoulders. Nevertheless, you put on the same bright smile, known to everyone around you, and kept on.

“(L/n)?” Your face lit up at the sound of the familiar voice to your right, “...my eraser rolled over, can you reach it?”

“Huh? Yeah sure!” You gave him a smile and bent down, holding your hand out slightly before something struck you.

Why? Why do I feel like I need his attention? Why am I so pathetic? The realization was like a stab, penetrating deeper and deeper.

“(L/n)?.....(l/n)?....are you okay?”

You broke out of your trance and reached for the eraser, “S-sorry.” You placed the eraser in Ikuya’s hand, who was now looking at you with slight concern. You were silent after that, paying mind to your own work, failing to notice the boy next to you glance at you with worry.

The rest of the day consisted of you dwelling in your own thoughts, ignoring the calls of your friends and teammates. Skipping practice, you went straight home and sprawled out on your bed. Picking up your nearby volleyball, spreading your fingers into a setting position, you began gently tossing the ball up and down with hundreds of thoughts beginning to cloud your brain. Ikuya was never one to hide his annoyance, you knew that. But maybe you did talk too much, and maybe some of your friendships were forced. Were you trying too hard? Were people, unlike Ikuya, hiding their annoyance? Your insecurities that you thought you had left long behind, came flooding back. You shut your eyes tightly, thinking that would make the thoughts go away, as you drifted off into a deep sleep.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm pounding at your head, and made your way to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, you took a good look at yourself in the mirror. The thoughts of last night still swirling in your head, making it feel like it was going to explode. Suddenly you felt something rise at the back of your throat, as you scrambled towards the the toilet and let it all out. The throbbing sensation on your right side became more prominent, the lights around you making it worse.

A couple of hours later, you thought you had heard your phone ring. Quite a few times actually. Great to know people care about me, you thought sarcastically. You decided to stay home with all the lights off and the blinds tightly shut, every movement or thought pulsating your head further. You couldn’t remember exactly when, but you had eventually passed out on the couch, failing to hear the sound of your front door opening.

“(L/n)?....” Ikuya had suspected something was up with you these past couple of days. Although the facade you had built around you might have fooled another, you had been around to constantly bug, not that he really minded deep down, for Ikuya to realize you were acting different.

“(L/n)!” Ikuya panicked, his eyes adjusting to the dark space, to catch a glimpse of a limp silhouette passed out on the couch. He quickly came to your side, checking to make sure you were okay.

H-huh? You slowly began to wake to a hovering dark figure with amber eyes looking over you in concern. Ikuya?

Ikuya quickly backed away, face flushed and glad it was dark, once he had realized you were awake. You however, took a moment to just stare at him, headache or whatever forgotten.

Am I hallucinating? Why is Ikuya here?

“....you weren’t at school and your friends were saying how you weren’t answering any of their calls....you’ve been acting weird for the past couple of days....so I came to check on you...” Even in the dark, you could see the glimmer of his cat-like eyes.

Wait? He noticed?

“I also brought you the notes you all the notes and assignments you missed...your captain was pretty pissed off too...” He moved forward, hesitantly resting his hand on your forehead before moving to his bag to take out his notebook and some other papers. “You don’t feel all that warm...are you sure you’re not just skipping?”

Has he always been this talkative?

He stopped and turned expectantly, waiting for your reply. Before you could even think about opening your mouth, another surge of pain made its way, with you clenching the right side of your head in pain.

“M-migraine...” you managed to barely get out. Instantly, Ikuya was at your side, crouched down, back facing towards you.

“We should probably get you somewhere you can actually relax first.” He kept his pink-tinted face forward, waiting for you to climb onto his back, which you did without complaints. You warily pointed a finger in the direction of your bedroom, as he slowly made his way and rested you gently on the bed, before awkwardly standing off to the side. You pointed with your eyes, still in pain, to the edge of your mattress. After a few minutes of silence, you began to make sense of your situation.

“Why’d you come here Ikuya....?” You propped yourself against your pillows, head hung low to hide the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

Ikuya was silent for a bit before whispering ever so slightly, “You were more quiet than usual for the past week....I got worried....”

You were barely able to catch the last part as your eyes widened, before lowering back your gaze. “Shouldn’t you be relieved though? I’m not being annoying or a nuisance to you...”

Ikuya’s head shot up as he suddenly lunged towards you. “I don’t-,” before composing himself, “I don’t think you’re annoying...I actually like when you talk to me...” again, the last part barely above a whisper.

“Ikuya...” Another tinge pain shot up throughout the side of your head, as you let out a small whimper.

“D-do you need some medicine?! Where’s your cabinet?!” You let out a giggle, before it turned into full blown laughter, headache completely forgotten. Ikuya looked at you confused while you wiped the corners of your eyes. There was something about your disheveled, humorous state, that made Ikuya feel a complexity of emotions suddenly stir inside of him. Soon, and he had no idea why, he started to laugh along with you. You paused and took in his image, the feelings in your own heart becoming more evident.

“....here I was thinking you hated my guts...” you murmured softly, shaking your head, but then instantly regretting it. “But, I already took some medicine not too long ago.” You paused again, but this time more seriously. Despite the painful state you were currently in, you still couldn’t ignore the gut feeling in your stomach.

“Ikuya...you are aware right?” Ikuya was now also looking directly at you. “...aware how I feel about you...” He froze, wide-eyed and eyebrows raised. He could no longer deny the growing feeling in his heart either. He blushed and looked away,

“...I feel the same way about you too (f/n)...for a while now...”

He said it softly, but you were just able to catch the last part as your eyes were now bulging out of your sockets. He caught a glimpse of your expression before suddenly backing away, as if he had said something wrong.

“W-what is it! W-why are you looking at me like that.”

“That’s the first....first time you ever called me by my first name...”

And for a while now? Maybe you really were oblivious.

By the look on his face, he had just realized this as well, but crossed his arms anyways, avoiding eye contact.

“It is your name you know...of course I would call you by it...” Your body moved before you had time to process what you were doing, and soon your cool hands met warm, as Ikuya gently sat back down, face now red, but still avoiding your gaze. Just as you were about to say something, a familiar sensation danced it’s way back, as you squeezed your eyes shut, removing your hands from Ikuya’s to clutch onto your head.

“Here lie down...” you obeyed, bracing for the next wave of pain, only to be met with slender fingers running through your locks, massaging in place once they had found their destination. You relaxed under Ikuya’s touch, eyelids becoming heavy.

Ikuya smiled to himself, scooting closer and watching your brows slowly unknit, as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber. ~

[alkae]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Don’t touch anything in here. That’s directed at you, Yong. And you too, Hugo.

Those are the words that Varian said right before they entered a strange man’s workshop. They were there in hopes of finding their way to the next trial. When they caught sight of a kindly inventor who had a lot of knowledge about the “theoretical” totems, they figured they’d hit a jackpot.

Unfortunately, the inventor was unable to answer any of their questions because he was “busy”, so the gang was told that they could have a look around for any information. Then he promptly bolted.

Varian gave his speech about not touching anything and then there they were. Snooping around in a workshop that wasn’t owned by anyone they knew.

Hugo was looking around halfheartedly. He didn’t trust that this stranger conveniently had information about exactly what they needed. So as Nuru, Yong and Varian searched through chests and in desk drawers, Hugo examined the shelves that held potions and other trinkets. He picked up one that was a swirling shade of dark pink.

As he looked at it, he watched as it changed to a red color. Then light pink. Purple. Then dark pink again. “Fascinating,” he muttered. While he wasn’t as openly nerdy as Varian, he did find himself geeking out over little things like this. A potion shifting color wasn’t news but this was the first time he’d seen it with his own eyes. He took a quick glance around before he opened his bag and-

A gloved hand stopped him. “Hugo! You are not stealing his potions!” Varian. Kind, loyal, honest, law abiding Varian. Hugo made an offended noise.

“I am not stealing the potion. I am borrowing it. And look at all of the potions he has. He won’t miss it.”

Varian’s look was icy. “Hugo. Put it back.”

“Okay okay!” Hugo stuck it back on the shelf. Varian was watching him. “You know, if I took a small sample-”

Varian cut him off. “You don’t even know what this potion does. Look, I know you're curious and I totally get it. This potion, i-it’s fascinating. But it could also be really dangerous. And I know from experience the damage a potion can do. So just leave it be. Okay?”

Hugo was about to protest again but the look on Varian’s face changed his mind. It was so honest and genuine. Something happened with a potion that stuck with him, presumably for a while. “Alright, Hairstripe. I’ll leave it be.”

Varian smiled gratefully. “Thank you Hugo.” He went back to where Nuru and Yong were. Yong had gotten his hands on something that looked dangerous and Nuru was trying to tug it away. Hugo watched as the three squabbled, slightly amused at them.

A soft voice tickled his ear. Hugo.

He turned abruptly. “Who’s that?”

Hugo. You know you want me.

It sounded familiar. Just vaguely, like something he heard from a dream. He glanced around again.

Come on, Hugo. No harm will come out of this, trust me.

His eyes landed on the potion that he had just set down. It seemed to glitter despite there not being any light reflecting onto it. Against his better judgement, he picked it up again. “Voice? Hello?”

A startled scream had him turned around. Yong had dropped the machine onto a board that had evidently triggered some kind of chain reaction. In any case, it released a machine with a long pole sticking out of it that whipped around rapidly and slammed into Varian. Varian flew forward, knocking into Hugo, simultaneously knocking the potion out of Hugo’s hands.

Hugo and the others watched as it shattered and splashed onto Varian. “Varian!” Yong cried, rushing forward. “Are you okay?”

Varian shook his head as the potion seeped into his clothes. He turned to face Hugo, expression cross. “Hugo, I told you not to… to…” He stopped speaking and a dreamy expression spread over and relaxed his features. Hugo watched in horror as a Varian suddenly put on a face reminiscent of the one he wore whenever he flirted with someone. “Have your eyes always been as bright as Flynnolium?”

“What.” There was no other response to this.

“I wish you would’ve warned me because damn, they’re explosive.” And then Varian winked. Hugo’s heart began to rapidly beat in his chest as he heard Nuru snort in the background.

“No way. No way! Hugo, I think that was a love potion!” She was full on snickering now. “So… so that means…”

Hugo’s heart sank. “He loves me now.”

“Well I wouldn’t say love,” Nuru said, wiping her eyes. “But he’s certainly now attracted to you.”

Yong was gaping at the two boys. “Varian, do you feel okay?” he asked. An appropriate response.

Varian leveled Hugo with another flirtatious look. Hugo swallowed. “Oh I sure do since my little dose of medicine is here.”

Nuru gagged as Hugo felt his face significantly redden. “Uh that’s uh, nice, Hairstripe.” Why was he stuttering? Stuttering was a Varian thing.

Varian batted his eyes at him. “Call me Varian.” Were his eyes always this blue? Or big? Hugo swallowed again.

“Princess? Firecracker? A little help here?” He glanced over his shoulder at the others. Nuru crossed her arms.

“Sorry, Hugo, but you’re on your own here,” Nuru said.

“Princess!” he protested.

“This is karma for all the flirting you did to Varian. You know what they say: karma’s like a boomerang. It will always come back to give you a nasty concussion.”

Yong frowned. “Do people actually say that?”

“I mean, I said it, so yes, people do say that.”

Hugo put his head in his hands. “Guys, please focus! We need to find a way to reverse it.” I don’t think my heart can take this, he thought but refused to say.

He felt something wrap around his upper arm. He startled and saw that it was Varian, clinging to him like a koala. “You’re smart, aren’t you? I mean, I always knew you had it all. Brains and looks, right?” Hugo was very, very red and very, very warm. “So you’ve got this all figured out.”

For some reason, Varian saying this actually filled Hugo with slightly more confidence. “You’re right, Hairstripe. Now is not the time to panic.” Despite his heart’s protests, he eased his arm out of Varian’s grip and knelt down next to the broken glass. “As I expected. There are remnants of the potion on the glass.” He opened his bag and pulled out a test tube. “If I collect it and then analyze it, I may find out what it’s made of and how to reverse it.”

“And there’s our nerdy Hugo,” Nuru commented. Hugo glared at her.

“Be quiet, Princess. I don’t see you offering any suggestions.”

She shrugged. “Maybe we can look around his workshop? He must have some notes here.”

“Good idea!” Yong piped up. “But, uh, we might want to get going.”

“Why?” Nuru and Hugo asked. Varian was too busy ogling Hugo to say anything.

“Someone’s coming and it’s not the inventor guy.”

Hugo and Nuru peered out the window and saw someone in a cloak approaching the workshop. Hugo turned to Nuru and Yong. “Take some of those journals. I’ll take the analyzer.” He looked over to see Varian once again wrapped around his arm, grinning up at him with those blue, blue eyes. “And Hairstripe.”

“Varian,” Varian insisted. Hugo made a noise.

“Varian,” he amended and the smile he received made him want to say it a million times again. Anything to win a smile like that.

Then the realization hit him: this was fake. Varian’s feelings for him were fake. Once they found a cure, they’d be back to that thin line between friends and something else they’ve been treading on for a bit now.

Despite the times they’ve worked together as a seamless machine, despite the laughs they’ve shared, the times they just sat and talked, all of it still seemed to add up to comfortable yet aggravating friendship.

Even though he tried to deny it to himself, Hugo had a crush on Varian. A staggering crush on Varian. It had happened suddenly, a rush of feelings that destroyed the wall he spent so long building up. Everything he tried to hide after he agreed to be a spy for Donella, everything he tried to destroy was rebuilt, bright and new again.

Hugo had feelings for Varian. Feelings he knew couldn’t be reciprocated. Varian was good. Unabashedly, unashamedly good. Every little thing he did was for others and not for himself. In the water kingdom, while he and Yong saw themselves succeeding or gaining riches in his case, Varian simply saw his father being proud of him and earning a strong bond between them. Varian was selfless. Hugo was selfish.

It wasn’t Varian’s fault. None of this was. It was kind of like how it wasn’t Hugo’s fault for falling for Varian. Nor was it Varian’s fault.

Although it might be now that Varian was batting his eyes at Hugo, smiling at him like Hugo was the greatest thing he’s seen, clinging to his arm, resting his head on Hugo’s shoulder. Every movement woke something in Hugo, which filled him with guilt. He shouldn't have feelings for him and they shouldn’t be cropping up now that he was under a love potion.

Hugo snapped himself out of his reverie and took the analyzer off the table after gently shoving a pouting Varian off of him. He shoved this in his bag as well. “Come on guys. Through the window.”

Nuru stared at him in disbelief. “That window? That tiny thing? It won’t get us through.”

“Well not if we go through it all at once.”

“Hugo, it doesn’t even look like it opens.”

“Nuru,” Varian broke in. “Come on. Just trust him.”

Hugo looked at him appreciatively as he picked up a stool and hurled it at the window, smashing it open. Nuru and Yong gasped as Varian sighed in admiration. “Such strength, Hugo. And guts! You’re so clever.”

Hugo turned so his red face wouldn’t show. “You first, Firecracker.”

Nuru helped Yong out the window after giving him some of the journals the two of them had gathered. He struggled and nearly got cut by a shard of glass but he managed to wiggle through. Nuru was next. Hugo boosted her up and over quickly as the door began to open. “Hurry you two,” she said before vanishing out of sight.

Varian turned to Hugo, something gleaming in his eye. “Carry me?” he asked innocently. Hugo felt a brow raise. “Lift me out of the window, strong man, and I’ll help pull you out.” He fluttered his lashes. “Come on, Hugo. It won’t hurt you.”

Yes. It will. Just not physically. Hugo picked Varian up, bridal style, and stood on a box. He peered out the window at Nuru and Yong. “Make sure he gets down safe!” he instructed them as the door opened.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

Hugo quickly lowered Varian out of the window and then dropped him onto Nuru, who collapsed to the ground with an “umphf!”

“Hugo!”

“Hey! I asked you a question buddy!”

There was no time. Hugo pushed off the sill and leaped out of the window in one swoop. He was so used to quick exits that he didn’t even flinch as he dropped to the ground and landed awkwardly on his foot. “Let’s go. Now.”

Varian grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, and pulled him along as they followed Nuru and Yong. They heard a door open behind them. “You rotten kids!”

Nuru laughed. “I never thought I was ever going to run from the law ever in my life but here I am!” She sounded overly cheerful about this. Hugo suddenly liked her slightly better.

They managed to get back to their camp without getting caught and Yong instantly collapsed in front of the firepit, the journals tumbling out of his arms. “Whew. Let’s agree never to do that again, okay?”

Hugo huffed, wincing as his ankle screamed at him. “No promises, Firecracker.” He stifled a groan as he tried to put his weight on his ankle. Varian noticed and immediately sat him down.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d gotten hurt?” he asked. More so demanded.

“We were kind of running from a stranger. I had other priorities, Hairstripe.”

“Varian,” Varian corrected gently.

Hugo looked into his eyes, so blue yet so strange. “Varian,” he said.

Nuru cleared her throat and sat next to Hugo. “Alright. Let’s have a look at your leg, Hugo.”

After some cursing, the group got Hugo’s leg wrapped up and resting. As he reclined on the ground, he pulled out the analyzer and the test tube with the love potion. “Okay. Princess, Firecracker, take a look at those notes while Varian and I examine the potion. There must be a cure somewhere.”

Nuru and Yong gathered the journals as Varian parked himself right next to Hugo. He was so close that Hugo could smell a soft hint of apples on him. Absently, Varian reaches over and played with Hugo’s hand. Hugo could feel his cheeks warm.

He shouldn’t be enjoying this. This wasn’t what Varian wanted. He wanted the two to be friends. And that’s what they were.

Friends.

Hugo pulled his hand away gently and used it to open the test tube. “Hair-Varian.” He tried not to dwell on how nice his name sounded when he said it. “Help me with this.”

Together, they set up the analyzer and Hugo dropped the small bit of love potion onto the tray. They watched as the analyzer scanned it, Varian resting his head on Hugo’s shoulder again. His hair tickled Hugo’s chin. His heart screamed at him but he managed to pull away. He couldn’t bear to look at Varian’s pouting face so he instead stared down the analyzer.

Soon, it produced a piece of paper which Hugo promptly swiped and read. “Alright, let’s see here.” At the top was the word “love serum” which, duh, they knew. Underneath was the ingredients yet no instructions on how to make it. That was fine. He could work with that. He scanned the rest of the paper. No antidote in sight. He cursed.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

Hugo promptly choked on air. “Honey?” he demanded.

“It’s a pet name.” Varian blinked up at him, gaze hardly innocent. “What, you prefer babe? Sweetie? Hugh? Darling?”

Hugo choked again. “Maybe just Hugo?”

Varian pouted. “But that’s so boring. And you’re certainly anything but.” He winked. Hugo looked away promptly.

He felt Varian staring at him. “What is it, Hairstripe? See something you like?” The instinct to flirt was so prominent that he didn’t think twice about it.

“Oh I sure do,” Varian replied. “I’ve got an amazing view.”

This was very new to Hugo. He never had someone flirt back with him. Well, minus that one guy that he didn’t even like that much anyway.

Varian put one hand around Hugo’s arm. “So tell me, Hugo.” Oh no. Another line was coming. “Are your favorite elements gallium and yttrium?”

“No, I prefer bismuth. And you?”

“I feel the same way. Especially after I met you.” He looked up at Hugo with an expression so genuine that it broke Hugo’s heart.

He didn’t have a crush on Varian. He loved him.

That’s why this hurt so much. Every touch, every glance, every line was just a product of a potion. Hugo pulled way, heart in pieces. “Why don’t we check in on Princess and Firecracker?” He stood and turned shortly, limping away with Varian scrambling after him.

Nuru and Yong were bent over one journal, Nuru’s face stopped in a laugh, Yong’s expression wide and open. They looked up as Hugo and Varian approached. “Did you find anything or was all of this worthless?” Hugo asked.

The two of them exchanged a look. “You might not like this,” Nuru said slowly.

Hugo crossed his arms. “Try me, Princess Starmap.”

Nuru made a face at him as Yong said, “You guys have to kiss to break the spell.”

Hugo and his heart startled at the same time. “We have to what?”

Yong picked up the journal and held it up for Hugo to take. He skimmed the page quickly and his heart sunk. Yong wasn’t lying. According to the inventor guy, the only way to break the spell was through a kiss. No. No no no no.

He expected Nuru to be grinning but her face was solemn. “Would you two like some privacy?” She didn’t sound like she was kidding.

Hugo looked over at Varian who wore a dopey grin. “That sounds nice, yes,” Hugo said. Nuru and Yong gathered the other journals and quickly vanished. He stared at Varian the second they were alone. Varian still wore his grin. “Varian.”

“Hugo.” He already sounded breathless. He took a step forward. Hugo stepped back.

This wasn’t how he wanted it. He didn’t want a forced kiss between them. He wanted it to be something they both wanted. He would never want this. “Varian,” he repeats. “We don’t have to do this.” But they did. If he wanted the normal Varian back. “If you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to,” Varian said, his eyes certain.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted stubbornly.

“No you don’t, Varian. You don’t want any of this. You’re under a love potion. All of this that you’re feeling isn’t real. After we kiss, you’re going to push me away and say, ‘thanks, can we forget this ever happened?’ And then I’ll agree, despite everything in me not wanting to and then we’ll move on as my heart breaks more and more each day and…” He was rambling. He stopped himself short as he caught sight of Varian’s glare.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped putting words into my mouth. And if you’d stop assuming that you know everything about me.”

Hugo sighed. “Varian, you’re under a love potion. I can kind of guess that this isn’t real.”

“Emotions can’t come out of nowhere,” Varian said knowledgeably. “So that means that I felt something for you before. Which I do.”

Hugo shook his head. “I can’t trust a word you say right now, Hairstripe. Honestly.”

Instead of being cowed, Varian gently took Hugo’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Varian,” he corrected.

Hugo stared at him, trying to read his expression. “Varian.”

Varian smiled meekly. “Why don’t you kiss me and we’ll find out how I feel afterwards?” Hugo made a face. He didn’t take relationships like this lightly. Especially with someone like Varian. “It can be innocent. A total innocent peck.”

Hugo was still skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Is bismuth the best element on the entire periodic table?”

Hugo laughed. “Okay, okay!” He pulled Varian in slightly by his hand. They were close, face to face. Hugo could make out all the specks in Varian’s eyes. He could tell Varian was examining him too. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

Varian leaned in so their foreheads were touching. “As I’ll ever be,” he whispered back.

There was no taking this kiss back. No second chances. Hugo took a deep breath in and then kissed Varian. Softly. So soft that it was really just lips touching lips. And then Varian leaned into it and Hugo had his hands on Varian’s hips and Varian’s arms were around his neck and their chests were pressed together. And then it was over. Hugo pulled away to see Varian blinking. “You alright, Hairstripe?”

Varian blinked again, hands still around Hugo’s neck. “I’m fine.” He looked back up. “And, uh, I thought we agreed to call me Varian.” He grinned and Hugo felt himself grin back.

“So, about what we talked about…”

He didn’t get the rest out as Varian kissed him again. “How do you think I feel, Hugo?” he asked.

“You like me?” Hugo asked, his voice slightly hushed. He didn’t know why.

Varian nodded. “I really, really like you Hugo. You big dork.”

Hugo laughed. “Oh I’m the dork.”

“You are.”

They both laughed as they kissed again. Hugo could feel them both smiling into it. Soon, they heard Yong and Nuru behind them and they seperated. Nuru looked smug, Yong excited. “Finally,” Nuru said. “I thought you’d be oblivious forever.”

Yong nodded rapidly. Hugo felt himself blush. He still had his arms around Varian’s waist.

They stood there in blissful silence until Yong said, “So, uh, how are we supposed to explain this to the inventor?”

[syntheticpoetry]

And the World Spins Madly On, Chapter 12

Summary:  A few weeks after visiting Kurt in New York and confessing to cheating Blaine is attacked and left for dead, resulting in a traumatic brain injury. Burt finds him on his way home from work and calls Kurt to deliver the news. How will Kurt help Blaine pick up the broken pieces when his own heart is still so conflicted?

And The World Spins Madly On (ff.net link if you’d like to leave a review!)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11

The entirety of the two-and-a-half-hour movie passed by in a hazy blur.  If Kurt was being honest, he did not think it possible that any of them had been able to pay attention to any of the details at all.  They had simply taken to their collective silence and continued through the motions only to maintain some pretense of normalcy.  Blaine had remained asleep, nuzzled securely against Kurt’s chest, through the entire film, oblivious to the stolen glances that Kurt was pretending not to notice.  On more than one occasion he caught Cooper’s gaze lingering for longer than the conspicuous number of seconds that everyone else felt was customary, his expression completely indiscernible.  As the end credits began to scroll across the screen, they remained in silence.  No one seemed to want to make the first move.  After about a minute of background music, Cooper finally spoke.

“Kurt, let me help you get him to bed?”

Kurt recognized that tone, the overly protective ‘we need to talk’ voice, and picked apart the unspoken request between his words.  He had bought himself over two hours to sift through the tidal wave of thoughts swirling around his mind and still did not feel ready for the conversation, but he nodded.  Cooper crossed the room and knelt down, trying to figure out the easiest way to go about untangling Blaine’s arms from Kurt’s torso to lift him up.  As Kurt leaned forward he felt Blaine’s embrace tighten around him and looked down to see his face contorted with worry even though he remained fast asleep.

“Let me see if I can talk him into moving,” Kurt whispered and ran a hand along the length of one of Blaine’s arms.  He leaned down to speak quietly in Blaine’s ear, continuing to rub his arm in an attempt to gently rouse him.  “Blaine, time for bed.”  Blaine scrunched up his face and turned it inwards to bury it in Kurt’s shirt, his breath warm and tranquil as it seeped in through the material against his skin.  “Come on, I know you’re tired,” Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of his head and took to trying to wriggle his fingers beneath Blaine’s arms to break his hold.

“No, don’t go,” Blaine pleaded, his somnolent voice muffled as he spoke into Kurt’s chest.

“We’re going together,” Kurt replied before kissing his head again.  The sea of prickly hair growing in made his lips tingle as they made contact.  “Come on, this can’t be comfortable for you.  Let’s go lie down, Cooper’s going to help.”

“Come on, buddy,” Cooper took his opportunity to slip his arm around Blaine’s torso after Kurt had managed to lift his arms to create a wide enough space.  Blaine instinctively wrapped his arms around Cooper’s neck and whined quietly in protest, but kept his eyes closed.  In one swift motion Cooper lifted him up and carefully carried him to the guest room.  Kurt remained on the couch momentarily, rotating his shoulders to will away the numbness that had set in from remaining motionless in the same position for such an extended period of time while Finn finally shuffled over to the DVD player to remove the disc.  As Kurt was just getting ready to stand up and follow Cooper out the sound of his father clearing his throat earned his attention instead.

“Kurt, if you ever wanna talk.  About any of, you know, this stuff going on,” Burt leaned forward, clasping his hands together.  He did not know when it had happened over the course of the last month, but Kurt thought he somehow looked older now.  Maybe it was just exhaustion.  They were all feeling it.  He had been shocked to see his own reflection in the mirror earlier after his call with Isabelle, his face almost unrecognizable beneath the raw layer of puffy, pallid skin.

“I know, dad,” Kurt pressed his palms against his knees and, with great effort, managed to peel himself off of the couch.  His back had never ached so much.

“So, are you two—” Burt had been interrupted when Carole swatted his arm gently.  “What? I’m just asking!”

Kurt offered a feeble, half-hearted smile.  “It’s… complicated.  I really would rather just leave it at that right now.  I’m gonna go see if Cooper needs any help.”  He all but ran from the room to avoid anyone else’s response, knowing full well he needed to save his energy for the interrogation he was bound to be receiving from Cooper momentarily.  He entered the guest room to discover Cooper in an unsuccessful attempt to unhook Blaine’s arms from around his neck and let out a quiet chuckle.  “He did this a lot during sleepovers, here.”

Kurt approached them and began pressing his fingers into the back of Blaine’s hands, working his way up his arms and proceeded to rub small, delicate circles into his shoulders.  Blaine’s grip around Cooper’s neck slackened and Kurt nodded towards one of the pillows, keeping his fingers busy working into the muscles along Blaine’s neck and upper arms, “Grab that, we’ll do a swap.” Cooper obeyed the command and after another minute of Kurt’s physical coaxing they had managed to slip the pillow between Blaine’s arms.  He embraced it tightly and buried his face away from view.

“He should be okay for a little while, usually takes him at least an hour before he realizes it’s not an actual person,” Kurt rotated his shoulders again before lacing his fingers together behind his back to hold his arms into a stretch.

“You said this used to happen a lot?” Cooper watched Blaine, his expression forlorn.

“Yeah,” Kurt brought his arms forward again and folded them across his chest, observing Blaine snore softly against the pillow.  “After everything he said today about your dad, I feel like it all makes more sense now when I look back.”

“What does?” Cooper pulled the blanket up around Blaine to tuck him in, pausing to press down on the pillow near his nose and mouth as though he was paranoid Blaine might suffocate himself if he kept his face buried long enough.  Blaine crinkled his nose in response to the action and proceeded to bury his face deeper into the pillow instead.  

“The way he clings for affection like that, for one.  How he’s always looking for everyone’s approval,” Kurt sat down at the foot of the bed, keeping a fair amount of distance between him and Cooper.  “I guess a lot of the way he’s acted and responded to things.  I just never put much thought into it until now.  I wish he’d have said something sooner.”

“He’s always held onto his secrets, even from me if he could help it,” Cooper finally tore his eyes away from Blaine to face Kurt.  Kurt made a conscious effort not to squirm as they sat in silence.  After a pregnant pause, Cooper added, “He told me about what happened between you two.  The reason you guys broke up, I mean.”

“Before or after he became incapable of filtering his thoughts?” Kurt asked, his tone forcing the question to sound unintentionally bitter.

“After,” Cooper shook his head and sighed.  “That first night alone I had with him in the hospital after he woke up.  He could barely speak, but he just wouldn’t stop.  He thought he imagined you being there when he woke up, kept saying it was impossible that you were actually there.” Kurt kept silent and took to watching Blaine sleep again in order to avoid having to face Cooper.  “I didn’t know what to do.  Didn’t know how to calm him down.  When I tried to tell him he wasn’t imagining it he just told me I was lying.  He was getting so worked up, they had to sedate him.  Some small part of me thought maybe he was over exaggerating how badly things ended between you two if you were sitting there beside me, looking at him the way you did, when he was saying you weren’t supposed to be.  Like maybe he was just beating himself up like he always does.”

“And the other part?” Kurt asked robotically.  A dull ache surfaced from the pit of his chest as his mind wandered askew towards the scene Cooper had described.  He remembered the laborious effort Blaine had overexerted himself with just to speak a few simple words, let alone complete sentences.  He also remembered the look on Blaine’s face when he had almost kissed his cheek as a force of habit and an insidious thought crawled into existence from his subconscious.  ‘Was it my fault for setting him off like that?’

“The other part saw how conflicted you were.  Noticed how it seemed like you were holding yourself back sometimes when you were around him.  Like you were trying to remind yourself not to get too close.” Kurt shifted his eyes quickly in Cooper’s direction to discover he also had been watching Blaine again as he spoke.  Neither of them could bear to face each other.  In his brief glance, Kurt could not help but notice the worry lines decorating Cooper’s forehead as though they had become a permanent fixture.  Another uncomfortable silence blanketed them again before Cooper asked, “Was it as bad as he made it out to be, Kurt?”

“Yes,” Kurt’s reply came as a strained whisper.  He cleared his throat quietly in an effort to lend some semblance of strength to his voice. “After he told me, I just tried to completely ignore him.  He would call and call and call, I wouldn’t answer.  I finally sent him a text telling him to leave me alone, that I didn’t care how sorry he was and I didn’t want to hear from him anymore.  So he stopped.  My dad would try to ask what happened and I just didn’t want to deal with it, so I told him and everyone else not to talk to me about him.  That we broke up and that was that.  I tried to just move on with my life in New York and completely cut him out.”

“So what’s going on with you two now? Because the way it looks to me, something’s changed.  What was going on back there?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Kurt admitted truthfully.  “It’s been confusing for me ever since I got here.  I’m just trying to figure it out as I go, Coop,” He scooted closer to the two of them and brushed his fingertips over Blaine’s bicep.  Blaine immediately leaned into the touch, shifting his head to rest sideways on the pillow and continued to breathe quietly into the space between them.  

“Kurt, if it’s confusing for you imagine how confusing it must be for him,” Cooper replied, his tone serious and concerned. “He can’t process things the way he used to anymore.  You’ve seen that.  And it’s not like I think you’re taking advantage of that, but I’m just,” Cooper stood up and crossed the room, his hands on his hips. “I’m just worried.”

“I understand,” Kurt twisted around to face him, taking care not to wake Blaine.  “I’m not trying to hurt him, Cooper.”

“I’m not worried about you intentionally doing it, Kurt.  I’m worried he gets his hopes up while you’re figuring things out.  I’m worried he gets too attached too quickly because he can’t understand what’s happening and it doesn’t end up working out between you two again.  I see how good you are with him, and I’m worried I’m not gonna be able to step in and take over if I have to pick up the pieces.” Cooper paced around the room, his eyes darting everywhere but the bed.  Kurt could not help but compare him to Blaine, the way he could never keep still when his nerves had surmounted past the point of manageability and he needed to resort to walking himself into a rut in the ground.  

“So what are you asking of me?”

“I don’t know,” Cooper stopped and studied the wall before turning to meet his gaze. “Just be careful with him.  And don’t follow through with this if you’re just reacting out of pity.”

“I still love him,” Kurt replied quietly.

“Anyone with eyes has been able to see that, Kurt,” Cooper offered him a tired smile that did not quite reach his eyes.  

“I’m trying to forgive him.  Trying to rationalize everything that happened, trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe it was partly my fault too.  I know I was trying to actively keep him out of my life after we broke up, but imagining him completely gone from the world? Coop, it killed me to think it was a possibility that I would never get to see or talk to him again.  It just— It put a lot of things into perspective for me.” Kurt swallowed hard while his heart continued to palpitate frantically.  It had been nearly a month since Blaine had woken up from his coma, but the memories of uncertainty as he watched him motionlessly clinging to life for a week straight still elicited the same feelings of anxiety.  He slid his hand across the comforter and placed it atop Blaine’s, trying to tether himself back down towards equilibrium again.  Blaine’s fingers twitched against the pillow.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Cooper replied.  Kurt tilted his head quizzically and he continued, “I only have his side of things, and even that has been pretty choppy.  Can you tell me your side of what happened?”

Kurt opened his mouth and closed it again.  After a moment of watching Blaine continue to sleep he responded, “Can we step outside? I could use some air.  I’ll ask my dad to keep an eye on him, I’m sure he won’t mind.”  Cooper nodded and left the room after they agreed to meet outside.  Kurt leaned over and kissed Blaine’s cheek, breathing in the scent of raspberries from their bath earlier, before rummaging through the dresser drawers.  He pulled out a navy blue hooded pullover sweatshirt and smiled as his eyes fell upon the image imprinted on the front of it.  He ran his fingers fondly over the large Dalton logo before pulling it over his head and venturing off to find his father.  Burt and Carole were still in the living room with Finn.  Without the background noise of the movie it became completely obvious what their conversation must have entailed when the three of them abruptly stopped speaking once Kurt had entered the room.

“Very inconspicuous,” Kurt rolled his eyes.  “Dad, can you keep an eye on Blaine? Cooper and I are just gonna go chat in the backyard for a little while.”

“Sure, bud,” Burt replied and Kurt left to meet Cooper.  

Though it was late November, it had been a comfortable enough night to venture out in the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Blaine.  Kurt pulled out a chair at the garden table and took the seat across from Cooper.  He leaned back and brought one knee up close to his chest, hooking his arms around him so he could hold it steady and rest his chin atop it.  Cooper leaned forward with his hands folded together on the table, waiting patiently.  Kurt sifted through his memory of the chain of events leading up to that horrible night back in early October, having re-examined some things with new eyes within the last few weeks.

“I guess I should start with before I moved to New York,” he finally settled on.  “I don’t know if he talked to you at all about anything that happened before that?”

“Just that he was going to miss you when you left, nothing too much deeper than that,” Cooper replied.

“We got into a big fight a little while before I was supposed to leave.  We were both sort of distant with each other, not really communicating.  He accused me of cheating on him because I was texting someone, but we cleared it all up.  I set us up to talk to our guidance counselor afterwards though because I felt like he still wasn’t telling me everything, and you know how he is— you have to keep pulling teeth and start sifting through all the layers of everything he pretends to be upset about before you actually get to it.”  Cooper nodded and Kurt continued.  “He finally said he had been so distant because he felt like all we ever talked about was New York anymore and he was trying to get used to the idea of a life without me there.  I tried to reassure him, told him we would talk and visit each other all the time, and that seemed like it was enough, you know? Looking back, I guess it was a little overly ambitious and unrealistic to think that way.  But at the time, it just felt like he was blowing it all out of proportion and worrying over a problem that I didn’t think existed between us.  And then he tried to bring it up again closer to my graduation, wanted to talk about the fact that we were going to be in a long distance relationship, that it was going to be hard and we would have to put the work in if we wanted to make sure we would stay together.  I didn’t want to hear it.  In my head, we were perfectly fine.  I loved him and he loved me, and so I figured that was all there was to it.  I just kept… shutting him down and writing it off every single time he wanted to talk about it because I didn’t see any issues with us.”

Cooper remained motionless across from him, leaning back against his seat with his arms folded against his chest.  When he offered no comments, Kurt continued.  “I bombed my NYADA audition and that’s when he really encouraged me to go to New York.  Told me I didn’t belong in Ohio, that I was bigger than this place and it didn’t matter that I didn’t get into my dream school because I could find somethingto do there.  I asked him about us, what would happen, and he told me we would be fine.  That he would be there next year and it was my time to leave because it was killing him to see me unhappy here.  So, I left.  And, for lack of a better phrase, I got swept up in all of it.  We would Skype together and talk from time to time, but I was so caught up in everything going on once I started working at Vogue that I didn’t really notice how it was affecting him.  I,” Kurt swallowed and blinked rapidly, sending a few stray tears careening down his face.  “I wasn’t doing it on purpose at first, I was just… busy.  And he would just keep calling or texting to the point where I couldn’t keep up and I ended up missing calls and texting him back later and later.  Then when he was running for student president, I purposely ignored his call.  I was at a work thing and completely forgot about the election, I figured he was calling me again just because so... I ignored it.  From there it just got worse.  Again, not intentionally, but it just got a lot worse.  I was busier than ever, we barely had time to talk and whenever we could get on the phone with each other I kept getting interrupted and had to go again.”

“Is this around the time he surprised you in New York?” Cooper asked when Kurt had paused for another moment to collect himself again.

“Yeah.  After our last call I hadn’t been expecting him for another two weeks.  He showed up the next day.  And I just knewsomething was off.  Something felt different.  But when I asked him about it he just told me it had been a long flight and everything was fine, so I didn’t push it.  We went out with Finn and Rachel to a piano bar and Blaine decided to perform, but he just… broke down as the song went on.  We went for a walk afterwards and that’s when he told me he had hooked up with someone because he was lonely and I just shut down after that.  I didn’t want to hear a word he said.  I couldn’t look at him the same way.  I just kept thinking I had all of these chances to cheat on him and I didn’t because I believed in us.  Yeah, I had things to keep my mind occupied, but so did he, didn’t he?  It wasn’t my fault he created his entire world around me and then told me to go off and live my life.”

Kurt roughly pressed his palms against his eyes and sniffled quietly.  When he dropped his hands again he saw Cooper chewing on his thumbnail, staring at the glass garden tabletop.  Neither of them spoke until the momentary pause transformed into an awkward silence that made Kurt squirm uncomfortably in his seat.  He gave in and was the first to break it.  “What are you thinking?”

Cooper lifted his gaze as though he was just noticing Kurt was sitting across from him and pulled his thumb away from his mouth.  “Just that I’m sorry that things got so fucked up between you guys.”

“Yeah, well, like I said after everything he’s said today it’s easier to look back now and recognize all of the little things I chose to just ignore or completely write off because I had no idea where he was coming from,” Kurt shrugged.

“Still,” Cooper said seriously.  “Him letting his pride get in the way of being able to talk to you or me and letting things build up until they inevitably explode doesn’t exactly mean he gets a free pass.”

“I don’t think it’s pride that makes him act that way,” Kurt sat up straighter and placed his hands beneath his thighs.  Though it was not the typical chilly Ohio night for the time of year, his hands were beginning to feel clumsy and stiff.  “I think he’s ashamed.  I’m sorry to say this, cause I know it’s your father and all, but that asshole is a fucking bully and it’s pretty obvious that’s where a lot of Blaine’s insecurities stem from.”

“No offense taken there,” Cooper held up his hands.  “I was just as shocked as you were today to hear the full extent of everything.”

“I mean, I knew he and Blaine didn’t exactly get along, he’s always only hinted at that and avoided the subject of him altogether at all costs most of the time, but after everything he said today it was a moment for me where the picture came into focus just a little bit clearer.  I’ve just been going back and overanalyzing every little thing now.  Everything he’s said, every time I thought he was being overly clingy or blowing things out of proportion.  I don’t know if he necessarily realizes it, but maybe seeing that psychiatrist will do some good.  So yeah, while I’m starting to see that maybe what happened between us was also partly my fault I also don’t believe it was entirely his fault because I would also have a pretty fucked up view of the world if my dad treated me anything like the way your dad has treated him.” Kurt pulled his hands out from beneath his thighs and took to fiddling with the drawstrings of the hood.  

“I just can’t believe I never noticed it,” Cooper sighed heavily.  “And I can’t believe he didn’t even tell me.  He opened up so much more after he tried to kill himself, but couldn’t tell me about—” Cooper stopped abruptly, clearly aware of the fact that the secret had remained between him and Blaine up until now, and tried to backtrack.  But Kurt had interrupted him, his voice a fleeting whisper amongst the crickets in the empty night, “Relax, I know about it.  He told me last night.  And he actuallytold me, it wasn’t just another time where he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.”

Cooper’s shoulders slumped and he leaned his head back against the mesh backing of the chair.  “He begged me not to tell our parents.  Said that he made a mistake and it would never happen again.  I wanted to tell them, make them see the consequences of what they did to him, but he looked so terrified, I just couldn’t.  He barely trusted me, if I betrayed that trust, I thought he’d never let me back in again.”

“How did they never find out if he was a minor though?” Kurt asked.  

“I told them I was his father at the hospital,” Cooper responded quietly.  

“And that worked?” Kurt stared at him incredulously.

“You’ve seen how small he is now, right? He was even worse then, looked so young and thin and sick,” Cooper paused and exhaled sharply.  “There’s a ten year age difference between us, so I must have looked the part enough because they didn’t question it.”

“So that’s it? They just let you guys go?”

“Not exactly, they asked me if I wanted to have him committed to inpatient for a few days so they could monitor his behaviour,” Cooper had taken to staring up at the endless amounts of stars scattered across the clear sky.  Kurt continued to watch him, hugging his knees tightly against his chest as though it would do anything to stop the ache in his heart as he pictured Blaine locked away in a padded room.  “God, the look on his face when he heard that.  He was terrified, Iwas fucking terrified, but I couldn’t do that to him.  So they did an evaluation on him in the emergency department that took all night instead and then we were free to go.”

“Your parents never noticed or said anything about you guys being gone for so long?” Kurt had honestly been afraid to know the answer as the question left his lips.

“Our mother did,” Cooper’s smile was faint as the sadness seeped into his words.  “So we lied.  Said I took him out to Columbus to meet up with some of my old friends and I was too tired to drive back so we stayed the night.  She didn’t question it.”

“Do you regret it?” Kurt asked quietly.

“For a while, I did,” Cooper shifted and sat up straight again, tearing his eyes away from the sky and focused on Kurt again.  “I was so afraid I made the wrong choice, was so scared to leave him alone in case he tried to do it again.  But he started letting me in more and more, and I thought maybe I did do the right thing by trying to help instead of push him into the hands of some stranger that he would not have been ready for.  Would I make the same decision now though? I honestly don’t know.  Maybe he would have learned how to process everything that’s happened with professional help when I clearly was not qualified.”

“He worships you, you know,” Kurt smiled weakly.  “I think he definitely gets jealous sometimes, but I know he thinks very highly of you.”

“I shouldn’t have left again,” Cooper stated.  “If I stayed, maybe I would have noticed more.  Maybe he would have told—”

“You know he would have resented that,” Kurt interrupted him sternly.  “He would have felt like he was holding you back and blamed himself for you giving up your dream.”

“I know you’re right,” Cooper sighed heavily again, the familiar trend of the evening. “But still.”

“I know,” Kurt unhooked his arms from around his knees and sluggishly dropped his feet to the ground.  “You know, I’m glad we had this conversation.  I was really dreading it back inside when you asked to help bring him to bed because I thought you were going to start laying into me about everything.  I can see why he likes to talk to you about the heavy stuff.”

“Like I said, I’ve seen how good you are with him.  I’m not trying to come between that, but you see where I’m coming from with being worried, don’t you?”

“I do,” Kurt propped his elbows onto the table and leaned forward to rest his chin atop his clasped hands.  “I can’t promise you everything is going to work out between us, but I can promise I will always be here for him.  For both of you.  If this has shown me anything, it’s that I can’t just walk away.  Whatever happens he’s always going to be my best friend.”

Cooper surveyed him carefully before nodding once.  “It’s getting late; we should probably go relieve your dad.”

Kurt perked up as Cooper stood. “Can I stay with him again tonight?”

“You don’t need to ask my permission, Kurt.  Of course you can.  You mind if I take your bed then?”

“Not at all,” Kurt replied.  When they walked back inside Carole and Finn had relocated to the kitchen and were conversing quietly.  They both looked up and smiled as Kurt was sliding the screen door closed behind themselves.

“Surprised you guys are still up,” Cooper commented.

“Gossip never sleeps,” Kurt quipped, earning an eye roll from Finn.

“We’re not talking about you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Finn replied.

“Then who?” Kurt eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s— it’s private,” Finn stammered out.

“Ah,” Kurt smiled, his instincts leading him to believe he had been talking to his mom about Rachel. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it then. Goodnight!” He waved his hand in a sort of dramatic salute before heading towards the guest room.  As he drew near the door, the sound of his father’s voice caused him to lighten his footsteps and creep up quietly, melding against the wall beside the open door frame so he could listen.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Kurt could hear the way his father’s voice wavered, the strain and the pain beneath his words.  He took a chance and tilted his head towards the frame for a quick peek inside.  Burt’s back was to the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed speaking to Blaine, who appeared to still be asleep in the exact position Kurt and Cooper had left him in.  “You didn’t deserve any of this.  I wish I had gotten to you sooner, maybe things would have turned out differently.  Maybe you wouldn’t have—”

When the quiet sob wracked his father’s body like a steam roller, cutting off his voice and reducing him to rubble, Kurt could not stand idly by any longer.  He took a step into the room and slid a hand onto Burt’s shoulder, “Dad, you can’t go down that road.”

“It was rightoutside the shop, what if I could have stopped it?” Burt placed his hand on top of Kurt’s, doing nothing to stop the steady stream of tears.  He had not lost his composure like this since he had dropped Kurt off at the airport to leave for New York.

“Stop it,” Kurt said sternly.  “Dad, please.  It’s no one’s fault but the homophobic assholes that did this.  You did everything you could, and it’s probably the only reason he’s even alive.  So please, don’t beat yourself up like this.”

“Sorry, bud.  You’re right, I know you’re right,” Burt stood up and before Kurt knew it he was wrapped up in the tightest embrace he could ever remember his father giving him since his mother had passed away.  “Everything go okay with Cooper?”

“Yeah, dad.  It was a good talk,” They lingered in the embrace silently for a few seconds before Kurt let his head fall onto Burt’s shoulder. “How was he?”

“Quiet, hasn’t moved,” Burt patted Kurt’s back lightly and they broke apart finally.  

“Good, maybe he’ll be able to sleep through the night for once,” Kurt replied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.  As if on cue, Blaine shoved the pillow away and sent it careening over the side of the bed.  Still asleep, he blindly began groping around the mattress.  Kurt slipped his hand into one of Blaine’s, who surprised him when he forcibly tugged on his arm with more strength than he had anticipated.  Kurt grunted softly as he was pulled towards Blaine’s chest and leaned over to whisper in his ear.  “Let me get changed and I’ll lie down.  No, honey, don’t you pout at me, I’ll be right back, I’m not going far.”

Blaine reluctantly released him and he stood up again, keeping his voice low as he walked with Burt towards the door.  “Thanks for watching him.”

“Of course, bud,” Burt shuffled awkwardly in the doorway.  Kurt raised an eyebrow questioningly.  “I dunno the extent of what happened between you boys, and it’s none of my business if you don’t want it to be—”

“We’ll talk about it, dad, I promise.  Just… not tonight.  I’m afraid I’m a little talked out after today,” Kurt flashed a tired smile and Burt nodded.

“Alright, deal.  Get some sleep,” Burt embraced him one more time and kissed the top of his head.  “Love you.”

“Love you too, dad,” Kurt closed the door quietly behind him on his way out and returned to the dresser to borrow a set of pajamas from Blaine rather than disturb Cooper to retrieve them from his own room.  He hastily changed his clothes and climbed into bed where Blaine immediately nestled against his side and buried his face in the crook of his neck.  Kurt squirmed as his warm breath tickled his skin and sent goosebumps all the way down to his thighs.  “Goodnight, you,” Kurt whispered, but Blaine was already fast asleep again.

____________________________________________________________________

The next few days passed by in a series of good ones and bad ones.  By the time Thursday had finally rolled around, Kurt sat at the kitchen table feeling as though it had taken an entire month to arrive instead of the actual two days that had passed.  Blaine had not been able to sleep through a single night without being plagued by nightmares, so Kurt and Cooper had taken to watching him in shifts.  The previous morning had been an especially bad one.  At 6 a.m. Blaine had jolted awake, panting heavily in the dark, and Kurt had been completely prepared for the routine to reorient and console him until—

“Who are you? W-Where am I?”

Kurt froze with his hands raised in midair as Blaine had recoiled, staring at him in terror.  While Blaine had always had trouble discerning his surroundings, he had never forgotten who Kurt was before.

“Blaine, it’s me—” Kurt had barely been able to find his voice, the words coming out tiny and frightened as he remained still so he would not further startle him.  

“Please, don’t hurt me,” Blaine began sobbing hysterically and proceeded to frantically shift away from Kurt towards the edge of the bed.  Kurt’s heart leapt into his throat as he lunged towards him and wrapped an arm around his torso to keep him from falling off the side of the bed and hitting his head.  Blaine, completely oblivious to the imminent danger Kurt had been saving him from, sobbed harder and began writhing under his grip.  The words came rushing out of his mouth so quickly Kurt was not even sure he was breathing in between.  “Don’t hurt me— Please, just let me go— I won’t tell anyone— Please, I swear I won’t— Please, please don’t hurt me—”

“Blaine, I’m not going to hurt you!” Kurt tried to speak over him without shouting, but Blaine continued to plead and cry loudly.  He curled his fingers tightly over Kurt’s forearm, struggling to break free of his hold.  “Blaine, please,” Kurt’s voice cracked as his own tears of fear and frustration started to overtake. “Sweetheart, it’s me.  It’s Kurt—”

“I don’t know anyone named Kurt!” Blaine shouted and sobbed again, sputtering almost incoherently between giant gasps of air.  “You— You have me confused with someone—”

Kurt could feel the knife being plunged into his chest and the slow twist of the blade, but he choked down whatever sorrow he was feeling and tried to remain calm.  “Blaine, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.  I’m a friend of your brother Cooper, he’s here too.”  That seemed to grab Blaine’s attention.  His grip on Kurt’s arm loosened momentarily before he tightened it again, digging his fingernails into the skin and shook his head frantically.  

“No.  No, you’re trying to trick me—”

“I’m not.  I promise, I’m not.  He’s downstairs, I can call him to come up here right now.  I just have to reach my phone and I can call him.  But you have to promise me you’re not going to move when I let go, I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.  Okay?” Kurt spoke calmly and slowly, hoping his tone was enough to portray his concern.  Blaine still seemed hesitant to believe him.  “I will let you go and I’ll go stand on the other side of the room, I’m not gonna hurt you.  I’ll put the phone on speaker and you can hear that it’s Cooper I’m calling, okay?”

Blaine studied his expression, his eyes moving so frantically it was enough to make Kurt‘s head spin.  After what felt like an eternity, Blaine’s fingers slackened around his arm and Kurt used all of his willpower not to flinch as the pressure was relieved from the tiny little cuts where Blaine’s nails had been buried.  “Show me his number as you’re dialing it,” Blaine stated determinedly, as though he was convinced he would call Kurt on his bluff to actually be calling his brother.  Kurt agreed and tentatively lifted his arm away from Blaine so he could roll over and grab his phone off of the nightstand.  

“Here, I’ll put it on speaker and you can see then I’ll go stand over there if you want me to, okay?” Kurt tried to swallow the lump in his throat as Blaine put as much distance between them as possible and nodded once.  Kurt held the phone between them so Blaine could plainly see that he was punching in Cooper’s number.  Blaine continued to stare at the device, his eyes flitting back and forth between Kurt and the screen as he hugged his arms around himself tightly.

“Kurt, what’s wrong? Is he okay?” Cooper’s worried voice came flying over the speaker after just one ring.

“Can you come upstairs, Coop? He’d really like to see you,” Kurt watched Blaine’s expression change in an instant as he continued to stare at the phone in disbelief.  

“Coming right up,” Cooper responded and hung up.

“See? You’re safe,” Kurt said soothingly despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to break down into tears himself.

“Do I really know you? Why can’t I remember you? Where are we? How did I get here?” Blaine tilted his head up as Kurt put his phone away.  The confusion and absolute panic etched on his face and in his tone of voice was enough for another sharp twist of the imaginary blade in Kurt’s heart right now.  

“I’ll let Cooper explain,” Kurt’s voice wavered as he concentrated on preventing a fresh onslaught of tears.  Within seconds, Cooper came running into the room, panting quietly.  Kurt stood up quickly and left without uttering another word.  

Kurt pushed away the recollection and took a long sip of his coffee as he watched Blaine, sat opposite him at the table, struggle to keep his hand steady enough to lift a spoonful of cereal up to his mouth.  Blaine’s memory had returned shortly after the incident, but it had taken Cooper and Kurt another hour to calm him down once he had learned he could not remember who Kurt was.  Though it had not been his fault, Kurt could not help but feel a slight sting at having been completely wiped away from Blaine’s memory.  He set his mug down just as Blaine had propped elbows up onto the table and brought his chin to rest on his hands, staring daggers at the spoon in the full bowl of cereal.  Behind them Carole had been bustling about, preparing everything for dinner that evening while Finn stood in front of the toaster oven, drumming quietly on the countertop with his fingers.

“Would you like some help?” Kurt shifted his chair closer to him and Blaine continued to scowl at the bowl.  

“I’m useless, I can’t even do this,” Blaine said bitterly before dropping his arms onto the table, his balled fists thudding quietly against the wood.

“Stop that.  What did we talk about yesterday?” Kurt brought his hand to rest over one of his hands and Blaine sighed loudly in response.

“It’s not my fault and will get better if I keep practicing,” Blaine recited mechanically.  

“And?” Kurt prompted.

“And,” Blaine allowed his fist to be opened up so Kurt could lace their fingers together.  “Some days might be better or worse than others and that’s okay.”

“And it’s okay to ask for help,” Kurt finished for him and leaned over to press a kiss onto his cheek.  

“Can you help me, please?” Blaine mumbled, clearly still uncomfortable and embarrassed with the idea.

“Yes, I can,” Kurt lifted their hands together and guided Blaine’s over to the spoon.  He helped to curl his clumsy fingers over the handle and kept his hand over Blaine’s as they lifted it up together.  Blaine leaned forward too quickly and the sudden motion had caused their hands to jerk, spilling cheerios and milk onto the table.  He groaned loudly in frustration.

“Forget it, I’m not hungry,” Blaine tried to pull his hand away but Kurt would not let him.

“Try again, come on,” Kurt prompted gently.  Blaine glared at the mess on the table but agreed.  The second attempt had been more successful.  Kurt continued to help him before releasing his hand for the last few spoonfuls, which Blaine had managed to do, albeit at a much slower pace, on his own.  “See?” Kurt smiled encouragingly and Blaine responded with a timid smile.

“You’re amazing; how could I ever forget you?” Blaine blurted out and proceeded to turn bright red.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I already told you,” Kurt scooted his chair right beside Blaine’s so their thighs were touching and gently pulled him closer to his body.  “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

Blaine immediately melded into his side and let his head fall onto Kurt’s shoulder.  Kurt wrapped an arm around him as he leaned forward to retrieve his mug and continued to drink his coffee.  Finn took a seat at the table across from them and proceeded to squeeze a packet of white icing onto a toaster strudel.  They sat quietly at the table, the rest of breakfast passing by peacefully with the quiet sound of Carole humming in the background as she prepared the turkey.  

Sometime later in the afternoon, Kurt and Blaine had retreated to the living room to watch a repeat of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as the kitchen had begun to get a little too overstimulating to Blaine’s liking.  Finn had taken to laying on his side on the floor in front of them, his head propped up on his hand, and they had been taking turns commenting on the musical performances and random glimpses of people in the crowd.  As the performance for the Cinderella musical was wrapping up, Cooper had walked into the room and dropped down into one of the armchairs, staring at his phone.

“What time are you leaving for the airport?” Kurt picked up on his anxious expression and Blaine tore his gaze away from the television to glance between them.

“Probably in an hour or so.  Flight tracker says everything is running on time, so if I time it right I can get there as it lands,” Cooper placed his phone onto his lap.  The screen was still lit up with the flight information on the airline phone application.

“You hear from them before the flight?” Kurt felt Blaine suddenly tense up against him and rubbed his hand along his upper arm.

“No—”

“Figures,” Blaine mumbled.

“But,” Cooper continued, “Mom left a voicemail sometime in the middle of the night saying she can’t wait to come see us.”

“She did?” Blaine replied doubtfully.  “Can— Can I hear it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cooper fiddled with his phone and crossed the room to hand it to him once he had navigated to his voicemail inbox.  Blaine immediately tapped on her name and pressed the phone to his ear, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited for her voice.  Kurt could not help but feel sad as he watched him.  The hopeful expression mingled with disbelief was apparent all over his face as though he thought Cooper had been lying to him.  He had become so outspoken in voicing his doubts lately, and while Kurt was glad to see him finally verbalizing his concerns more often it still left him feeling melancholy to discover just how much Blaine doubted everyone around him.

“She really sounds like she means it, Coop!” Blaine said excitedly and pulled the phone away from his ear just enough to tap on her name again and replay the message.

“Yeah,” Cooper smiled weakly, but Blaine had been too caught up in his reaction to notice it.  Kurt, however, could also see the fear on Cooper’s face behind the smile.  He knew how nervous Cooper was for the reunion.  They had briefly spoken during the previous nights about the implications and possible effects it would have on Blaine should things go in the complete opposite direction of what Blaine was expecting.  Especially if Mr. Anderson had actually decided to accompany their mother on the journey home, despite Cooper’s insistence that he stay away.  He reached his hand out and gave Cooper a gentle pat on the arm, hoping to offer some tiny token of reassurance.  Cooper smiled appreciatively and retreated back to the armchair just as the parade had returned from a commercial break.  

The next hour passed by in the blink of an eye and before they knew it, Cooper was bidding them goodbye and out the door.  Kurt had decided to venture into the kitchen to help with dinner, but Carole and Burt both shooed him away, telling him to relax and enjoy the holiday.  He took his seat next to Blaine again, who was watching a repeat of March of the Wooden Soldiers with Finn, and began texting Isabelle.  He had been communicating with her and Rachel almost religiously for the past two days, but he chose to withhold a little more information from Rachel than he did with Isabelle.  Deep down, he was not ready to deal with Rachel’s remarks after his kiss with Blaine considering how often she was still trying to talk him into coming back to New York.  So while he kept her updated on Blaine’s medical status and the doctor appointments and upcoming surgery, he was careful to keep his emotional responses regarding the situations to a minimum with her for the time being.  It was not that he did not trust her, but her constant need to spearhead every conversation and convert it into another attempt at what she called a ‘Blainervention’ was beginning to whittle away his patience towards her.  Isabelle, on the other hand, received every detail of Kurt’s concerns and emotional status.  She had been the only one to offer him unbiased advice and he never once felt judged by her whenever he took to rambling or recounting the previous days’ events.  

Isabelle 6:09 p.m. What time should I stop by?

Kurt 6:11 p.m. We’re still waiting to eat dinner, Cooper’s still not back.  

Isabelle 6:12 p.m. Nervous?

Kurt 6:12 p.m. Extremely.  I just hope it goes okay.  Coop let Blaine listen to a voicemail from their mom before he left and he sounded sooooo excited about it.  I just don’t want to see him get his hopes up and get hurt.

Isabelle 6:15 p.m. Any word on if she’s flying solo or not?

Kurt 6:17 p.m.

Not a clue.  We’ll find out soon though.

Kurt 6:18 p.m. If you want to come by whenever you’re done eating and don’t mind hanging out here that would be fine.  My parents won’t mind

Isabelle 6:20 p.m. We’re sitting down now so I’ll keep you updated! Ciao darling! <3

Kurt shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention to Blaine and Finn.  They were both laughing along to the movie, completely engrossed and unaware of their surroundings.  Kurt smiled gratefully for the fact that today, so far, had turned out to be a good day and hoped the remainder of the evening was going to treat them just as kindly.  Another half hour passed by before Kurt noticed headlights approaching the driveway.  He checked his phone to be sure he had not missed any messages from Isabelle and, upon seeing he had not received any new messages except from Rachel wishing him a happy Thanksgiving and begging him for a phone call soon, he assumed it had to be Cooper pulling up to the house.  He protectively slid an arm around Blaine and braced himself for their entrance.  Through his heart pounding in his ears he was able to make out the sound of jingling keys and the gentle creak as the door slid open.

“Blaine?”

All three of them turned towards the door as Cooper’s voice cut through the noise on the television.  He stepped inside and trailing behind him was a short woman with shoulder length, thick curly black hair and bright hazel eyes to match her son’s.  Out of his peripheral vision, Kurt could see Blaine staring at the doorway like a deer in headlights.  It was as though he had been expecting a trick to be played on him all along and never imagined his mother would actually be walking in through the doorway as she had promised she would.  Kurt gave Blaine’s side a gentle nudge and raised his eyebrows towards the door.

“Kurt, is this real?” Blaine whispered to him as Cooper helped his mother out of her coat.

“Yes, say hello,” Kurt whispered back.

“H-Hi, mom,” Blaine said shyly.  She beamed and approached him so quickly with outstretched arms his first reaction was to shrink back against Kurt.  She frowned and dropped her arms slowly to her sides.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Go slow, mom,” Cooper closed the closet door after hanging up her coat.

“That’s how dad comes towards me when he’s going to—” Blaine clapped his hands over his mouth and the remainder of his accidental sentiment came out muffled. “Hit me.  Goddamnit, stop talking.”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Kurt whispered and rubbed his arm soothingly.  “She was just going to hug you.”

Mrs. Anderson continued to frown before deciding to drop down onto her knees in front of them.  Blaine sluggishly lowered his hands, still leaning all of his weight against Kurt as he watched her.  “Sorry, I have trouble— It’s hard for me to—”

“It’s okay, my little love.”  Kurt could not help but notice how alike they looked.  Her eyes squinted with the magnitude of her smile, something Blaine used to do so often but it had now become such a rare occurrence.  “You take your time.” This seemed to be enough to flip the switch for Blaine.  He lunged forward, throwing his arms around her neck, and nearly sent both of them toppling to the ground.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Blaine’s face became lost in the wild mess of her hair as she embraced him tightly.

“I promised I would,” she replied.

“Is it just you or,” he trailed off, leaning back just enough to make his face visible again.

“Your father’s at home, that’s why it took us a little longer, he wanted to be dropped off,” She had said the words so strenuously Kurt could tell she would never have even considered uttering them at all had Blaine not asked first.  

“Oh,” Blaine replied quietly.  

Burt and Carole walked into the room wearing matching kitchen aprons and both Kurt and Finn had to cover their mouths to stifle their laughter.  Burt ignored them and cleared his throat politely.  “Hello, nice to meet you.”

Blaine and his mother slowly broke apart and Kurt noticed him drag his knuckles over his eyes a few times as he came to lean back against him on the couch.  He snaked his arm around his shoulders again, pulling him close, and turned back to watch the exchange between their parents.  Mrs. Anderson stood up, straightening her blouse before approaching them and holding out her hand.  “Hello, Burt and Carole, right?” They nodded and each of them took a turn shaking her hand.  She smiled politely.  “I’m Emilia.  Cooper’s filled me in a little bit on how helpful you’ve been with taking care of Blaine.”

“Well, he is part of our family,” Burt said and Kurt could hear the touch of anger in his voice that he was clearly struggling to reign in.  He shot him a warning look to remind him of their conversation the previous day to keep things civil for Blaine’s sake.  Burt softened his tone.  “He’s a good kid, we’re happy to help.”

“Well, now that we’re all here I hope everyone’s hungry,” Carole announced.

“We’ll meet you inside,” Kurt responded.  They filed into the kitchen, leaving them alone and Blaine let out a long sigh as though he had been holding his breath the entire time.  Kurt continued to massage his arm.  “You doing okay?”

“I keep expecting to wake up any minute now,” Blaine replied.  The undertones of self-conscious anxiety infected his words and contorted his face with worry and doubt.  “I expected anything else besides her standing in front of me right now.  There were always excuses whenever she promised anything.  I can’t believe she’s here.”

Kurt did not know what to say.  He patted his arm lightly and spoke quietly, his voice shaky as he tried to fight down the overwhelming sadness he felt towards Blaine right now, “Let’s not keep her waiting then.”  He withdrew his arm and stood up, checking the brakes on the wheelchair before leaning over Blaine again.  He hooked his arms around Kurt’s neck and closed his eyes as Kurt slowly pulled him into a standing position and paused.  Blaine swayed lightly in his arms as he balanced on his good leg and opened his eyes after nearly a minute, “Okay, I’m ready.” Kurt guided him down into the chair and unlocked the brakes.

“Are you happy that she’s here?”

The fact that Blaine had to stop and contemplate the question made Kurt feel like he had already had his answer, but Blaine spoke quietly when they started moving towards the kitchen, “I think so.  I don’t know.  I’m pretty fucking scared, to be honest.”

Kurt stopped and looked down to see Blaine fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.  Somehow, this had been the real answer he was expecting, but it still made him sad to hear Blaine admit it aloud.  “Whatever happens, we’re all here for you, Blaine.  I know it’s all very,” Kurt hated to use the next word.  He hated that every aspect of Blaine’s life seemed to boil down to one four syllable word, including their own dilemma.  

“Complicated,” Blaine finished for him.

“Complicated,” Kurt repeated quietly before relocating in front of him and kneeling down.  Blaine continued to writhe and twist his hands together, staring down at his lap.  It was becoming such a familiar scene these days.  Kurt slid his hands along Blaine’s thighs and laced their fingers together, squeezing his hands gently.  “We’re here for you every step of the way, okay?” Blaine nodded wordlessly and Kurt leaned forward to kiss his cheek, feeling Blaine leaning into the kiss.  Kurt twisted his head and pressed his lips affectionately to Blaine’s, who pulled his hands free and slid his arms around Kurt’s neck as he returned the kiss.  It could have lasted ten seconds or ten minutes.  Neither of them were sure.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asked breathlessly once they had pulled apart. Blaine closed his eyes and nodded once.  Kurt pressed one more delicate, quick kiss against his lips before they went into the kitchen to join everyone else.  

Throughout dinner it was easy to see where Blaine and Cooper had picked up their natural ability to charm and effortlessly interact with anyone they met.  There had not been one moment of silence as Emilia regaled them all with stories of Blaine and Cooper growing up.  She seemed especially eager to hear about Kurt as well, asking all sorts of questions and grinning wildly as Burt had obliged in her requests.  Kurt sat beside Blaine, their hands clasped together under the table, and kept shooting glances at him between their bursts of laughter.  He looked happy, but still seemed guarded— afraid to let himself get too comfortable in the idea of what was turning out to be an extremely normal family dinner.  Emilia sat opposite them at the table and very often brought her gaze to rest on Blaine, the joy in her eyes so apparent Kurt thought there was absolutely no chance it was not genuine.  But he also thought back to the number of times Blaine’s house had been an empty wasteland whenever he visited, the way Blaine went out of his way to avoid speaking about both of his parents with such pain and sadness in his request to drop the subject and Kurt had to remind himself to also be wary of her intentions.  He had heard her on speakerphone the few days prior saying she would explain everything to Blaine once she had returned.  Whatever it was she had prepared to say to him, Kurt hoped it would be just as genuine as the way she was portraying herself to be now.  In the middle of one of Emilia’s stories about how Blaine used to put on living room performances when he was six and drag Cooper along as one of his props the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Kurt scooted his chair back.  “It’s probably Isabelle.”

With some effort he pulled his hand free from Blaine’s, who seemed to be unconsciously gripping it as though it was a lifeline tethering him down to earth.  Kurt kissed his cheek and excused himself to answer the door while Emilia continued her story.  When he swung the door open though, it was not Isabelle as he had expected, but Detective Carson.  His hair was unruly as ever, loose strands peeking out from beneath his hat, and his expression was serious, yet sincere beneath rosy, windswept cheeks.

“Hello, Kurt.  Sorry to interrupt your holiday like this, but this couldn’t wait.  Could I come in for a minute?”

Kurt’s brain took a moment to process the request before he stumbled over his words, “Yeah, of course.” He took a step back to allow Detective Carson enough space to step through the doorway and then quietly closed the door behind him.  “Does this mean you have news?”

“Not exactly, I’m afraid.  I was hoping to speak with Blaine.  There was another attack.  We were able to get a composite sketch of one of the attackers based off of the victim’s description, I was hoping to see if it’s someone Blaine recognizes so we can figure out if they’re connected in any way.”

“Oh,” Kurt cast an uneasy glance towards the kitchen.  “I see.  Let me go get him.  Please, have a seat.”

As Kurt approached the kitchen the physical atmosphere of the room transformed.  The last thing he wanted to do was pull Blaine away from the warmth and joy he had finally been able to find himself in, but he knew Detective Carson was right in his urgency for haste.  If these had indeed been the same people who attacked Blaine, it was only a matter of time before someone else came next.  He approached Blaine and leaned over to whisper in his ear while the conversation around them continued.  

“Detective Carson is here; he was hoping to talk to you.”

To say Blaine was caught completely off guard would have been an understatement.  Without even touching him Kurt could tell every muscle in his body had seized up at the thought of having to recount whatever fragmented pieces of the assault he could remember.  “I can keep everyone else in here and get Cooper to go with––”

“No, I want you both there,” Blaine rushed out in a frantic whisper.

“Okay,” Kurt placed his hand on his shoulder and straightened up.  “Excuse me?” Cooper had stopped talking and everyone looked towards Kurt.  “Coop, I need you to come in the other room with us for a minute.  Could everyone else please stay here? We’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Everything alright, bud?” Burt asked, the concern heavy on his face.  Emilia looked perplexed as she shifted her attention between Blaine and Kurt.  Kurt was not sure how much information Blaine wanted to give away and was trying to come up with some sort of excuse for their need for privacy when Blaine suddenly spoke up.

“Detective wants to talk to me again,” he mumbled.  

“Sweetie, do you want me to come with you?” Emilia asked.

“No!” Blaine responded a little too loudly, causing her to look taken aback.  “No,” he lowered his voice and blindly searched for the levers to unlock the brakes of the wheelchair.  Kurt reached down to guide his hands over them, letting Blaine unlock them himself once his hands were in the proper spot.  “Please just… just stay here?” Emilia nodded wordlessly, looking extremely unsettled.

“Watch your hands,” Kurt said quietly to Blaine and proceeded to wheel him back away from the table once he had folded his hands onto his lap.  Cooper patted his mother’s arm gently and followed them out into the living room where Detective Carson had remained standing, shuffling in place as he passed his hat between his hands.  

“Hello again, Blaine.  Sorry to bother you all on Thanksgiving like this,” Detective Carson offered his usual sympathetic smile.  Kurt positioned the wheelchair to face the couch and took a seat in front of Blaine.  Cooper took a seat beside him.  Detective Carson remained standing near the front door.

“Kurt said you wanted to talk to me?” Blaine asked apprehensively.

“Yes, there was another boy who was attacked and we’re trying to figure out if it’s connected at all with your case.”

Blaine sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly together.  “How can I help?”

“We have a rough composite sketch based on the victim’s description,” Blaine flinched visibly at the word ‘victim’ and Kurt placed a hand on his knee.  “Can you tell me if you recognize the person in this sketch?” Detective Carson pulled out a folded piece of paper from the inside of his jacket and held it out to Blaine, who did not reach for it.  Kurt took the paper from him and smoothed it out against his knee before showing it to Blaine.  The boy in the sketch had shoulder length, dark stringy hair.  His cheeks were sunken in, giving him the skeletal appearance of a corpse.  His eyes were dark and unforgiving, he almost looked bored.  Scattered across his face was an overabundance of freckles of different shapes and sizes and his thin lips were warped into the ugliest frown Kurt had ever seen.  Blaine’s reaction was instantaneous.  He inhaled sharply and clamped his eyes shut, turning his head as far away as possible from the sketch.

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly as the muscles and veins in Blaine’s neck became more pronounced.  It made Kurt’s neck ache just to watch him overextend himself in such an extreme angle.  “Honey, do you recognize him?”

“I do.”

When the sullen, irate voice answered him, Kurt’s head swung with such force there was an audible crack that permeated the silence that soon fell after the quiet confession had been uttered.  It was not Blaine that had spoken, but Cooper.

[eastasianfeelings]

push and shove: Leo

— based on when Vixx overhears you masturbating

Summary: It’s already shocking enough for Leo to hear you pleasuring yourself in his guest room. But hearing you welcome his cat into bed afterward? No, that won’t do. At all.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: implied masturbation, accidental voyeurism, super-dumb jealousy

*

The first clue is Nabi. Taekwoon’s cat never goes into the guest room when there are guests in there, and you haven’t come out of the room yet this morning. But when Taekwoon looks up from his video call with his manager, there goes Nabi, slipping through the crack in the guest room door.

Taekwoon doesn’t think much of it until he wraps up the call and notices that Nabi’s food bowl is still half-full. Unusual — Nabi likes eating just as much as his owner does.

As Taekwoon considers this, he hears something. It sounds like heavy breathing, maybe.

He stands and heads toward the guest room door to check on you. Maybe Nabi sensed you were having a medical emergency of some kind in your sleep. (Though Taekwoon seriously doubts it.)

Five paces away from the door, he hears what is unmistakeably a moan.

It’s light, it’s high-pitched and it’s mostly air, but it’s definitely a moan.

His brain short-circuits for a moment. He feels his legs waver under him. But he catches himself in time and then holds his breath, to listen better, to make sure…

Another sound, short and cut-off this time. And then an exhaled breath that ends in a tiny, tiny whimper.

Shock washes through him, leaving him frozen where he stands. Why are you — ? In his — ? What — ?

The two of you are friends. Just friends. Surely friends don’t… don’t… masturbate in each other’s apartments?

Once the word crosses his mind, he feels abruptly dizzy.

Or maybe that’s just all the blood leaving his brain and heading south.

Taekwoon looks down and realizes he’s already half-erect. Jesus Christ. He did not get up at seven am on a Sunday to become horny like a teenager with morning wood.

“Ahh…”

The next breath you let out arrows down his spine like a shiver. This is too dangerous. Better off if he just goes back to the living room and waits it out. There, no one can say he’s actively listening.

On shaky legs, Taekwoon pivots and carefully treads back to the living room. He sits down on the couch and places his sweaty hands palm-down on the cushions beside him. He is not going to touch his hard-on. Nope. Not jerking off to the thought of you, his friend.

Faintly, ever so faintly, he hears: “Ah — ”

Taekwoon curls his fingers hard into the fabric. He sinks deeper into the couch and squeezes his eyes shut.

Oh, bad idea. Now his mind is drawing out the scene, you on the white striped sheets of his guest room bed, shifting against your own hand.

Another barely-there sound reaches his ears, and Taekwoon nearly lets out a pant. He snaps his eyes open and wonders:

Why do you sound so damn good?

Sure, he’ll admit that he is, non-platonically, attracted to you. But he’s also very aware of the fact that the two of you haven’t crossed that line. He should be able to control himself like a proper adult. The sound of you getting off shouldn’t be so inflaming.

As he’s swirling around in his confused thoughts, there’s a gasp.

Then you’re breathing your orgasm out loud, and all of his thoughts have been wiped completely blank.

Taekwoon only realizes he’s holding his breath again when his lungs force him to wheeze in air.

Before he can gather himself, there’s a meow.

A meow? Right, Nabi went into the guest room —

“Hi, handsome.”

The husky tone of your post-orgasm voice shoots straight through Taekwoon’s heart. He’s on his feet without even remembering standing, staring toward the guest bedroom.

There’s another meow, and a quiet chuckle from you. “Come here, Nabi-yah.”

And Taekwoon can see it: you, flushed and self-pleasured, your hot, welcoming embrace, and his damn cat snuggling right up to you and your bare skin.

His mind explodes with indignance. It’s decided, he’s banning Nabi from the guest room until further notice. He has to protect any guests that stay at his house from having their privacy invaded by his perverted cat, after all.

Taekwoon doesn’t know how long he stands there letting his thoughts spin in circles, but he finally registers that the place has been quiet for a while. You’ve probably fallen back to sleep.

With Nabi tucked to your breast, his brain adds, and he flops back down with a silent groan and puts his head in his hands.

*

You wake up for the second time around ten in the morning. After checking the time, you congratulate yourself on successfully, ahem, relaxing enough to fall back asleep after Leo woke you up at seven. It’s not his fault that he’s a busy idol, of course, but you’d really needed to catch up on sleep.

You roll over and feel fur brush against your arm. Looking down, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Nabi still curled up beside you, eyes narrowed to sleepy slits. As a picky cat, he’s never deigned to stay in your presence for too long.

“Morning, Nabi-yah,” you say around a yawn.

“Mrow.” He slowly stretches, then sits up and starts kneading the pillowcase.

You’re not sure if you should be stopping him from shredding Leo’s guest linens, so you leave him to it and head for the bathroom.

By the time you’re out, it’s ten-thirty and you’re not surprised to see Leo in the kitchen when you walk outside. “Hey, you’re back?”

He looks up from the eggs he’s currently beating. “Back?”

“Yeah.” You wander over and put the egg carton back into the fridge for him. “Your manager called this morning, right?”

“Yes,” he says, a little slowly, and you turn to find him staring at you, brow creased. “Did I… wake you?”

“Oh, well, I went back to sleep afterward, so it’s fine,” you assure him.

“Ah.” Leo lets his gaze drift back down to the bowl in his hands. “…I didn’t go out, though.”

“What?” You turn back to the fridge and search for the orange juice.

“It was just a call.” There’s a light clink as he puts his whisk down on the counter. “I was here. I’ve been here. The whole morning.”

You close the fridge abruptly as his words sink in.

Hadn’t you heard him pick up the call from his manager? Were you mistaken when you thought you heard the front door opening and closing?

But — wait. Why is he telling you that he was here the whole time?

…Jesus Christ, please, no.

Before you can even start to wrap your head around the horrifying thought that he might have heard you masturbating, Nabi announces his presence in the kitchen with a loud meow.

Both of you look round. He’s sitting in front of his empty food bowl, staring at Leo. “Mrow.”

“I guess he’s waiting for breakfast,” you say with a forced chuckle.

But Leo’s staring right back at Nabi with narrowed eyes. “You already ate,” he says directly to the cat.

“Mrow.”

“You already ate,” Leo repeats.

“Mrow!”

“If you don’t want your wet food thrown out, don’t leave halfway to go cuddle with Y/N,” Leo shoots back.

“Heh?” You’re surprised to be drawn into this stand-off between cat and owner.

Leo darts a glance at you before quickly looking away. “No more food for you,” he informs Nabi, and picks up his whisk again.

You bite your lip as you look at Nabi sitting by his food bowl, eyes upturned pitifully. “Taekwoon-ah, if he didn’t finish his breakfast, maybe you should give him some food now.”

The whisk clatters more loudly against the bowl. “He shouldn’t have left to go to you.”

“Why not?” You put your hands on your hips and stare at his back. “Nabi’s not allowed to snuggle with me?”

“I didn’t say that.” Leo’s beating the eggs so fiercely that his arm is nearly a blur.

“Is there some rule that guests can’t cuddle him?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you give him — ”

With a sharp exhale, Leo stops whisking and whirls to face you. “He left the food because he heard you masturbating!”

You gape at him in complete disbelief.

Um.

“…You heard?” you ask meekly. “You heard me?”

Leo jerks out a single nod.

Oh my God. This is it, the most mortifying moment of your life. You back up to the fridge, sink down to the floor and put your face in your hands.

“Sorry,” you say, muffled. “I… sorry. Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”

Leo clears his throat. “It’s…” He trails off. Clearly he can’t quite bring himself to say it’s okay.

Instead he coughs weakly and mutters, “Just don’t let him into your bed anymore.”

You peek out from behind your fingers. “Uh, what? Let who?”

Leo’s looking toward his cat again. “Nabi.”

“Nabi?”

“Yeah.”

You stand, baffled and a tiny bit indignant. “Wait… so I’m actually not allowed to cuddle him now?”

“It’s not you, it’s him.” Leo keeps glaring at Nabi. “You don’t want him watching you, do you?”

“Uh, no, but he wasn’t watching anything, we were just snuggling — ”

“He’s a male cat, Y/N-ah.”

Your indignation is morphing into disbelief. “Taekwoon, I don’t think you need to protect me from Nabi.”

Leo looks back to you so fast you nearly stumble backward from the impact. “Why let him watch you? Why does he get to cuddle up to you after you’re — after you — ”

As you watch him splutter for words, a possibility occurs to you, one so absurd that you have to voice it.

“Are you jealous?”

“No, I’m not!”

...Oookay. That was a slightly overly-vehement response. You press your lips together and just nod, hoping acquiescence will calm his strange mood.

He rips his eyes away and stares at nothing, his breath coming shallowly. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips.

Just as you decide you should exit this conversation before things get any stranger, he speaks.

“...Maybe I am.”

“... Huh?”

Leo looks up. “Maybe I am.” There’s a little more strength in his voice, his gaze. “Maybe I am jealous. So what? So what? Why can’t I be jealous hearing you invite my cat into your arms right after your orgasm? Who wouldn’t be jealous?”

It feels like all of your brain cells have flown away. You gape at him, mouth part-open, trying to reconcile all his words so you can form a sensible reply.

But what comes out is: “You can.”

“...What?”

“You can watch.”

Now both of you are gaping: you in panic over what just came out of your mouth, and him probably in shock at your proposition. You can feel your flush spreading up your neck and into your face.

But he’s blushing too, going redder by the second, and the two of you just stare at each other, red-faced and breathless.

Before you can recoup and take it back, he says, “Can I?”

Gulp.

“Yes,” you say quietly, nervously, truthfully. “If you want.” 

His breath leaves him in a whoosh and he steps forward. “I do. I want to. I… I want you.” The words trip out of his mouth as his eyes search yours, hands hovering nervously between you. “I do.”

You swallow hard. “Are you sure? Taekwoon-ah… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another step, and now he’s in your space, a few inches away, still looking deep into your eyes.

“Please,” he says softly.

Oh, that voice. You can’t resist it. You can’t doubt it.

You lean in; he leans in. There seems to be no air in this space between the two of you as you draw closer and closer to — 

“Mrow!”

Leo jerks away like he’s been burned, chest heaving, and turns to stare down Nabi.

“Go away.”

“Taekwoon!” You’ve never heard him speak so strictly to Nabi. “Don’t be mean to him.”

“He’s interrupting.”

“Only because he’s hungry.”

Leo turns to direct his narrowed gaze at you. “He’s not watching next time.”

Uh, next time? “Of course not,” you soothe, “but let’s just give him a little food, okay? To tide him over until dinner?”

“He doesn’t deserve it.”

You bring your hands down and push at his chest. “Jung Taekwoon, are you seriously going to starve your cat because he cuddled with me before you did?”

“...No,” he grumbles.

“Then let’s stop acting like Nabi’s a pervert and let him eat, yeah?”

“Fine.” He finally allows you to push him away, stepping back to give you your personal space back. “But you’re sleeping in my room tonight.”

“Oh. Am I?”

“And we’re locking the door.”

“Seriously, Taekwoon-ah???”

*

It takes almost a week for Leo to stop being mad at Nabi.

[lexiseigneur]

Chapter eight : A leap of faith

Her first action back at the bunker was to take a scalding shower. She was fine. All was well. The phantom worming sensations had ceased. Body and mind were once again aligned and had concluded that had she been infected, she would already have shown symptoms. Today she would not look at the brains again. She needed to look at something innocent and good.

Lexi headed directly to the garden. Quinlan was nowhere to be seen when she crossed the control room. At the lower level, she soon realized she had neglected her food providers far too long. Enough lemons had matured for her to prepare a new batch of jam. The tomatoes plants had developed uncontrollably. Useless side stalks had grown and stolen resources away from the ripening fruits. Other concerns such as spreading fertilizer and repotting also jumped to her attention. She sang to herself while gathering all fruits and vegetables that could be harvested. Proud, she lifted the basket full of colorful deliciousness to estimate their weight. It was extremely satisfying. The elevator lifted then as it came back down she wondered what the Dhampir could possibly want. She dropped the basket and waited. In one hand he carried a bowl and with the other, he was placing sunglasses over his sensitive eyes.

“Lunch.”

Quinlan said and placed the warm dish between her fingers. It was oatmeal with a generous dollop of lemon jam.

“Thank you. I will eat it later.”

“I will assist so that you may eat presently.”

Lexi smiled, both grateful and amused.

“I was going to repot those and clear out the tomato stalks.”

She sat on the concrete against the potted lemon tree. Quinlan did not seem as inexperienced as she had imagined. He did not destroy the plants which needed repotting but accomplished a remarkable job. Probably cleaner than she would have managed herself. When he approached the tomatoes and cocked his head to the side, she joined him and quietly started removing the useless green sprouts from the thicker branches. He imitated her and Lexi enjoyed that moment of peaceful collaboration.

“You’ve had a garden before, haven’t you?”

“I had land. A long time ago.”

The woman desired nothing than to ask all the questions this response inspired. He continued speaking unprompted.

“After finishing my carrier in the Roman army, I took a family and was granted land.”

Lexi did not speak. She was afraid to interrupt him. That her voice might lock his words away forever. How would he have a family?

“It did not last long but I learned about farming.”

Lexi perceived the sadness in that sentence. Suddenly, she did not want to know more. It was selfish to wish to satisfy her curiosity about his past if that caused him pain.

“The Master killed them before their time.”

She stopped plucking at the plants. Lexi turned to him but still held her tongue. She also controlled her face as best as she could. Quinlan did not need to feel pitied.

“I know you always wondered where my motivation to destroy him originated. It is very simple: vengeance.”

Quinlan tore two more stalks and faced her.

“Does it bother you?” He asked.

Lexi shook her head.

“Not even a little.”

The Dhampir scowled. He did not believe her. As if he had a monopoly on holding grudges.

“After my father remarried briefly, I still wanted to hurt him for all he had done. I did not care about his new wife and if he also mistreated her. I just wanted him to pay.”

“Did you ever get your revenge?”

“Not exactly as I had wished but close enough.”

She headed to the fertilizer bags and Quinlan followed. They continued talking while tending to the plants. Lexi learned that the Dhampir had been a slave and had fought as a gladiator. He told her of all the languages he had mastered over two millennia and she listened with enchantment.

By the time they got back to the control room, her fresh clothes were marred with dirt and sap. Quinlan’s vest and waxed denim pants were also dirty. She smiled at the idea of needing a change of clothes for such a wholesome reason. No blood or worms, just fertile soil. The rest of that day, she thought about his words. She wondered what life had been like for the women with whom he had shared a home.

That night she fell asleep in her own bed to his guilty dismay. Memories of the previous day tried to plague him. This single minute had been pure horror. Between the moments he had seen the Strigoi covering her with filth and when he had yanked that abomination out her skin. The Dhampir shuddered at how close he had been to have to kill her. It made him sick.

He forced himself to reminisce about less painful events. Lexi’s adorable flushed face and futile attempts at masking her heartbeats filled him with contentment. The sound of her breathing in the next room lulled him into deep relaxation. Quinlan drifted in a state between consciousness and sleep.

She screamed herself awake. The woman sobbed and stumbled to her bathroom. Water splashed and the sounds of her distress echoed louder in the tiled room. Quinlan sat up. She needed help. Then he stopped himself. She could feel resentment at being spied upon. The Dhampir forced himself to lie down again. Lexi was an adult and did not need him. Another nightmare would soon be forgotten.

His companion did not return to bed but instead made her way to his door. Quinlan grinned. Standing there so close, she suppressed another sob and turned away. Not this again! He wanted her to come back, he wanted her presence and the softness of her body. And he wanted her lips against his. Time slowed. He flew across the room and reached the handle before she could take another step.

You should not do this. The voice of reason was particularly irritating. Quinlan countered with a simple: To hell with reason.

The door opened and she swirled back, startled.

 Stop, you fool.

“I’m sorry I woke…”

Quinlan took her hand and pulled her through the door. His grip was loose, she could free herself and turn away.

 Just let it go.

Her fingers tightened on his. Quinlan stopped walking and faced her. Wet trails ran down her cheeks. He wiped one of them and her eyes widened in surprise.

 Why are you doing this?

Of course, she would be surprised. Had he ever given any indication that he could be tender? She had not been privy to his thoughts, just his actions. Lexi knew nothing of his desire to smell her skin or of his pleasure every time her face pressed against his heart.

To her, he was just a brute barely who barely tolerated her presence. From her own mouth, she found him cruel. That thought made his throat tighten. Now he resented the astonishment because it was entirely his fault. That surprise grew when he stepped closer and wiped her other cheek. His thumb traced the fullness of her lower lip to remove a non-existent tear.

Damnatus.

Lexi leaned into his touch and her heartbeat flew into a lovely crescendo. The open door let in the glow of computer screens. She scrutinized his face and he wondered what she could possibly be looking for.

“Quinlan?”

He was close enough to see the curb of each of her eyelashes and the humidity which still clung to them.

“Yes?”

His voice ended in a soft purr.

“What are you doing?” She murmured very lowly.

“This.”

Both his hands cupped her face and leaned down. Lexi’s eyelids closed and she sighed. Small fingers clutched at his forearms. When their lips touched, she gasped and backed away. Lexi stared at his mouth. That hurt. Her getting away from him.

 She doesn’t want you, you simpleton.

His brow furrowed in anguish. Had she refused him? The thin hand clasped his nape and pulled him closer. This time it was not a simple brush of lips. She tasted him carefully and he responded in kind. Quinlan controlled the instinct to produce inhuman noises and hugged her tight. The hollow of her neck welcomed his face. The Dhampir wanted to nibble the smooth skin. To taste her. The fear of reminding her of his nature kept him back.

Instead, he nuzzled the naked flesh just under her ear. Lexi pressed against him and this made his so very…happy. He kissed his way to the base of her collarbone. His tongue brushed her slightly. An attempt at satisfying the urge to savor her. Lexi inhaled sharply at that contact. The need became poignant so he took her lips again.

At the beginning, her tongue remained shyly back but soon grew brave. Maintaining his own firmly closed, he enticed her for more. When she broke the kiss, he felt like he could have continued for hours. Lexi smiled and only then did he notice that her left canine was slightly crooked. He regretted not seeing this smile more often.

Her digits ran down his throat and he shivered at what was coming. Like that night, just imagining her lips on his throat sent his heart into a frenzy. Quinlan had not anticipated her warm breath on the swirls or that tongue tracing their outline. He certainly did not expect her teeth grazing him.

The zipper of his pants became uncomfortably tight. Would she notice that? Her body was so close and she pulled even closer. The softness of her chest was pressing against him. How could she not notice? When she became more confident and sucked on his skin gently, he snarled. He needed more. Quinlan lifted her and grinned when her thighs pressed on each side of his waist. She giggled into his ear.

The Dhampir walked to the bed and sat to free his hands. Under the loose shirt, he caressed the firmness of her waist and back. There was a scar between her shoulder blades which had once been hidden by hair. He would ask her later. She hugged him and brushed against the bulging denim.

“Oh!” She whispered and he took the lips now stretched into a mischievous smile.

He enjoyed the oversized t-shirts and how much the collar stretched. He kissed everything available to his mouth. To his amazement, she removed the cumbersome garment. Prudent, he stared into her eyes, waiting for confirmation that he could touch her. The way he so wanted to. Her expression was inviting him. This time he could not stop himself from biting, ever so gently, the roundness of her breasts. She breathed rapidly and her hips moved against him. The tightness turned unbearable. He undid the button and the zipper became undone.

Quinlan groaned in disappointment when she stood. Lexi lifted the hem of his sweater and threw the piece of clothing away. Then she pulled the denim free of his hips. He did not expect her to take such an initiative but relished it. The pants fell around his ankles and he kicked them off. She stood at the edge of the bed, between his legs. Her palms against his skin traced the stripes. She smiled when she realized where the ones on each of his flanks lead to.

He could smell her now, the humidity and warmth. The only things between him and that scent were sheer shorts. Quinlan cursed them. He gripped their edge with both hands and the fabric started tearing. Lexi’s chest shook with laughter and he laughed with her at his own impatience.

Accepting his greediness, she pushed the shorts down and stepped out of them. The small woman pulled Quinlan up. Staring into his face, she slid his undergarments down. Quinlan closed his eyes when the freed erection fell against her skin. The small woman hugged him tightly and stretched for a kiss. His member was caught against her core and his. The pressure caused it to pulse almost painfully.

Quinlan sat back down to counter her teasing. He grabbed the flesh of her thighs and made her straddle him again. Gently, he took a nipple in his mouth and tried to ignore the overwhelming attraction of her wetness. Quinlan had to wait. It had happened so fast and he needed to restrain himself.

Apparently, she did not wish this. She reached between his legs and grabbed him. His fingers tightened on her. He froze against her chest. At this very moment, he did not know what to do and just fought to remain in control of his Strigoi voice. Lexi directed his member and he groaned when he felt the humid warmth on its tip. When had he started to wish for this very moment? Was it when… His thoughts vanished when she lowered herself around him. There was no past or future, just the heat of her body. She stopped halfway down his length. His hands shook and a very loud growl escaped him. More!

Lexi’s smile was taunting when she pulled herself up again. Panting slightly, she repeated her torture three more times. Something broke inside him.

“Please.” He whispered against her lips.

He tossed his pride aside and begged. Somehow, it did not feel wrong or demeaning. The woman sat down and welcomed all of him inside her. He exhaled in intense satisfaction. After that Quinlan got lost in the swaying of her hips.

The only shred of his conscious control was busy maintaining a firm muzzle on his snarls and growls. To hell with the mission. Her breathing was accelerating and blood rushing to the thin skin of her chest. He would trade it all away to stretch this instant into another millennium. Lexi’s moans grew louder. It was becoming difficult for Quinlan to resist the release.

She was still twitching around him when he flipped her on her back. He thought that maybe if less of her skin touched his that he would remain in control longer. Quinlan got a full view of her flushed breasts, her fists closing on the blanket and her gaze fixated on his. When he moved and her chest swayed in synchrony, he knew he had been sorely mistaken. The twitching around his member started again. Too late. When pleasure rippled through her core and she screamed, he gave up. He pressed against her firmly and clenched his teeth to prevent his stinger from bursting out. As waves of bliss rose from his crotch and flooded his body, his human voice took over and he whimpered.

Please gods, may this happen many more times. He nuzzled and kissed her until her sluggishness deepened and she fell asleep in his pale arms. When had he started to wish for that moment? When had the wanting started? He was a selfish fool. He breathed deeply into her wavy hair. A happy fool.

  The perimeter alarm yanked her out of profound slumber. Muscle memory took over her body, she jumped out of bed and reached for the nearest weapon, Quinlan’s sword. It was too heavy and the bone hilt felt queer between her fingers. But she still took it. She ran to the control room. Every single time the alarm rang, she imagined the control filled with screeching Strigoi. It made no sense but the loud blaring scratched at something deep and animalistic in her brain. The room was empty save for a naked Quinlan who had just pressed a button and terminated the horn. Her chest heaved with a huge sigh of relief. The Dhampir was calm which meant that nothing dangerous was happening.

“What were you planning on doing with my sword?”

There was a genuine smile of amusement on his face and he crossed his arms on his large chest. Lexi took in his exposed body with appreciation. The white skin was marbled with grey and the deep green of those strange markings. Those were not only visible on his face but also his abdomen and shoulders. Without the shadow of a doubt, she would one day draw him. He was remarkable.

“Why…defend myself of course!” She said with grandiloquence and attempted to raise the weapon further.

Her bicep shook with the effort. She let it fall carefully by her side and chuckled. Even if she trained for years, she would never have the power to wield it.

“I might place my bets on that raccoon.”

The sword clanged on the desk. She lacked the control to place it down more gently. On a monitor, the form of a large critter waddled lazily.

“Are you feeling ok, Quinlan?”

She caressed his arm with fake concern.

“Yes? Why?”

“You made a joke…that’s…”

He huffed and grabbed her hand.

“I do that every ten years or so.”

Lexi laughed again and felt warmth running down the side of her thigh. Unfortunately, he had that in common with human men. She pulled away from him and ruffled her hair. Then Lexi headed to her bedroom, stretching her arms above her head.

“You can work on that comedy sketch while I shower!”

The water washed away the sweat and other remnants of the previous night. The events replayed in her mind and for once the memories did not hurt. It had seemed that everything lately was bound to end up shoved in the dark room but not this one. This one she would cherish because it warmed her very core. Other such memories had ended up spoiled. Those with him. But these were concerns for another day. Today, she would be content with what little she had. Tomorrow she would focus on their mission. The suds slid down her legs and into the drain. Her hair had gotten wet at their very ends but that would dry quickly.

Music started in her bedroom. For a crazy moment, she imagined Quinlan making the effort to install her laptop on the drawing table and peruse through song files. That would be…very unlike him. No, this did not come from the subpar speakers of her computer.

It did not surprise her that the Dhampir could play the piano so well. He had been alive for the entire period the instrument existed, after all. That tune she knew by heart and was quite certain that she had only practiced it once since Quinlan had arrived. The rendition was flawless. Her focus was such that it took her several minutes to dry her body. The Dhampir keyed on another song she did not recognize while she stood behind him. Lexi was close enough to feel the heat of his back. It was so very…sad. Just like she liked them. Happy songs were annoying. They rang fake to her ears. He stopped and leaned back onto her. She hugged his neck and kissed the top of his head.

“Did you know it before I played it?” She murmured.

The skin of her arms tickled from the vibrations of his throat.

“I did not. I thought you might like the other one as well.”

“I do…how did you know?”

“It is melancholic, like all the others. Why is that?” He asked.

He turned to face her.

“The light ones don’t resonate with me. They sound…wrong when I play them.”

Quinlan nodded and nuzzled her chest. This combined with the purring and pointy ears evoked the image of a large, hairless cat. The situation was eerie. Last night, he had blindsided her with his gentleness. Lexi had, of course, noticed his hungry gazes and how his heart had reacted to her stroking his skin. She knew physical desire and the animalistic need that had driven her and others into embraces. It did not require complicity or tenderness. Those were what she had expected him to give. Barely a variation of the daily sparring they already shared. Lexi expected him to try to dominate her. But it had not happened. Instead of satisfying another physical need through each other, he had gifted the warmth of intimacy.

There laid the main difference between this and all the physical connections they had shared before. She had given him blood because he had provided her with information and a reason to fight. Quinlan had trained her because she needed to defend herself and he wanted a self-sufficient associate. He had let her rest to the beating of his heart because he wanted her mind and body healthy for the mission. The affection he was showing did not serve a higher purpose; it was its own reward. Her throat tightened at the realization. She did not want to think about it right this moment.

“Your scar…on your back…how?”

Quinlan had abandoned his usually impeccable syntax. His hands ran across the goosebumps of her flesh. What scar was he talking about?

“I have a scar on my back?”

His fingers found the spot, between the bottoms of her shoulder blades. Probably the only square of skin she could not reach herself.

“Here.”

A memory slammed against the door of that dark room in her head.

“One day I’ll tell you. Promised. But today…”

She hugged him tighter. Today she would enjoy the unexpected present of his caresses.

“I am sorry.” He whispered between her breasts.

The movement of his lips tickled the sensitive skin.

“You couldn’t know about it. I have other scars whose origins are quite funny.”

“No…I am sorry about everything.”

Lexi cocked her head. What was he talking about?

“I’ve been so unkind to you since the very moment we met.” He said.

There was heavy regret in his voice. Quinlan looked up and her chest constricted painfully.

“My first words to you were a threat.”

Ha. Stop talking. She could not tell him that with that stone in her throat.

“I do not remember exactly when I turned so cold. For all the things I have said and done without regard for you…Please, forgive me.”

His voice was very low. Quinlan pressed his forehead against her plexus, averting his gaze in shame. Lexi breathed deeply to chase away the tears burning her eyes. The dark room was enticing her but its use should remain for things painful. She was not in distress, she was just overwhelmed. Even as he was offering his own vulnerability on a platter, she was avoiding reciprocation. It was pointless and immature, so she let go. The small woman cried, her hands closing into tight fists against his back.

“I forgive you.”

He took her face into his large hands and kissed her.

That day they barely left her bedroom. For just those few hours, Quinlan allowed himself to forget about the rest of the world. When she fell asleep again, the feeling of duty crept back up. With that, guilt came as well. The Dhampir was acutely aware that across the centuries, his love had been a death sentence. The Master had made sure of it.

Was he deluding himself into believing that this time would be different? No, this time would be different. It had to be. For the sake of his peace and sanity, the beast had to be imprisoned forever. For so long, he had been convinced that he would die with his progenitor. Now, he wanted what lied after the Master’s end. Locking him away had been their plan since he had met Lexi, it had not been motivated by selfish desires. Then why was he feeling so guilty about it? Glutton for punishment, he scratched and pulled at those feelings. Desperate to understand why he felt so disgusted with himself for wanting a life with her.

You know why. It was preposterous. He felt guilty for settling with imprisoning the Master instead of outright killing him. Killing him is impossible. Then he remembered the fate of the rest of the Ancients. That was also ridiculous. He did not possess access to such destructive weapons. That powerful fire was out of reach and nothing else compared. In the back of his head, a voice was accusing him of lying to himself. He ignored it and instead focused on the naked woman against him. In her arms, he dreamt of his time in Asia in the early 1880s and of a deafening sound.

[ikesenhell]

I See Starlight

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: SPOILERS FOR THE ‘TO HONOR AND PROTECT’ LONG FIC. Also: it was a fascinating challenge to write for someone who isn’t sighted. I’m looking forward to trying more of this. 

Had he been asked before to describe blindness, Mitsuhide might have said blackness. It made sense to his sighted brain back then. After all, wasn’t that the absence of all things? Surely nothing but the infinite void was what those without eyes ‘saw’.

He was wrong.

“What does it feel like?” Hideyoshi asked once. Mitsuhide could feel the calloused tips of his fingers smoothing the blindfold, easing those wrinkles out bit by bit. He didn’t mind that so much. Hideyoshi fussed over him daily now, seeing to him in a way he never had before, and in some ways, that was soothing.

“It’s…” Mitsuhide paused, at a loss for words for the first time. How did he describe something more felt than seen? Frustrated, he held his tongue, finally answering with a simple, “Like trying to see out of your elbow.”

Those fingers on his blindfold paused. “What?”

“It just isn’t possible. It isn’t there. There’s no blackness, no void, no nothing. It just… isn’t.”

The day to day was an adventure. Mitsuhide memorized the layout of the barracks kitchen, navigating it with a mixture of bumped knees and spilled drinks. The oddest part was learning what senses he’d never employed before. His ears were good (better now, even--he’d grown accustomed a long time ago to overhearing valuable snippets of conversation), but his nose? His hands? His hands were by far the part of him he’d never paid so much mind to. Sometimes he would spend time just running his thumb over something new, sensing his way through the countertop, or the metal links of his armor, or the embossed leather of his sword hilt. A world of feeling was a strange place indeed.

More than anything, Mitsuhide tried to pretend he didn’t hear the whispers.

Obviously, he wasn’t much use to the Nine if he couldn’t even perform his daily tasks. Training was a strange new land. There was nothing to aim for. His marksmanship had always been the high point of his talents, and now? Now he couldn’t even aim true to parry a sword. Kenshin tried his best (with truly uncharacteristic kindness) to adapt something for his use, but it was a frustrating effort. They were one man down already, what with Mitsunari being the whole damn ocean, and he was almost utterly useless.

“Perhaps we should have him retire,” Mitsuhide overheard one night. It sounded like Shingen’s soft murmur. “He’s having a difficult time as is. There’s not much we can do for him.”

“Mitsuhide is resourceful,” Hideyoshi pushed back. “He’ll figure something out. Besides, he’s sharp.”

“‘Figuring something out’ and actually being able to fight are two separate things,” Masamune added. The man couldn’t whisper to save his life. Despite himself, Mitsuhide almost chuckled. “But let’s give it time and see what happens. It isn’t like we can just find a replacement for him anyway.”

Mitsuhide learned how to read with his hands first. That much wasn’t so hard. It was just the alphabet all over again, except with fingertips. Whenever Mitsunari was free from the water he lived in, he always took the time to teach him more. Maybe it was some kind of misplaced guilt that compelled him, but Mitsuhide didn’t know. He didn’t ask.

“So how long can you spend out of the sea, anyway?” He half-laughed. “A real fish out of water, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so.” Mitsunari’s gentle laugh was sweeter without sight to distract him. “I usually have about four to five hours. Then it’s back to the water for me--I feel weak and stretched until I’m back in then. I doubt I’d be able to go on a long trip as I am now. At least not over land, that is. Maybe one day the Princess will decide to go on a voyage. I could accompany her then.”

That didn’t sound half bad. Mitsuhide supposed that he wasn’t the only one adjusting.

But his frustration was only slightly allayed by learning to read again. He could assist with the intelligence reports again, but there wasn’t much else he could manage. It was almost impossible to track the days now--he woke at odd hours, slogging through the kitchen for his morning routine only to discover it was well into the night. How did someone stop feeling so disconnected?

Granted, he had before. He’d always had a general malaise, the kind of free-floating emptiness that felt like the wind swirling cavernous through his chest. There was a word for that in the City, in the ancient dialect that once had been their main language: Ornishi. It was difficult to translate, but how Mitsuhide understood it was “To be so empty that the whole world can fit inside.”

Here, in his personal nothingness, he understood the word at last.

Sometimes he thought about ending it. It wasn’t so much the lack of sight as the detachment from everyone around him. He’d spent his whole life honing and securing his identity, never realizing how much of it depended on being alone, and now--now how could he be alone? How could he be without Hideyoshi’s guiding hand?

Getting out of bed became harder and harder. He lay swathed in blankets, a prisoner to his own mind. How pathetic was that? It felt like the punishments he’d inflicted on his own prisoners in the past; but now it was him, and he didn’t know how anyone he’d tortured coped with that.

One morning, fed up with the silence and the loneliness, he decided to try a walk.

If Hideyoshi saw him, Mitsuhide had no doubt the man would try to stop him. Silently, he gathered up the walking stick he’d propped in the corner and edged it around the doorframe, finding his way bits at a time. Somehow he navigated his way outside. He could hear the distant crash of the ocean, the breeze flowing over his cheeks, the crush of rocks underfoot as he slipped out into the streets. The market was loud today, which was a blessing. Still, the pathways were different now with all the construction. He managed his way with uncharacteristic slowness, feeling the press of people around him and easing the longer he went. The far-above call of birds soothed his spirits. He could smell the cedar of crates, hear the rustle of skirts and squeak of boots, the scent of fresh bread and fruit from merchants. Nearby, the blacksmith hammered out the hot iron of blades.

Maybe he would try to do a little bit of shopping. He wasn’t one for that, but this was slightly different. He was willing to test himself. Sliding into a shop, he parsed his hand over the wares and discovered it was a book stall.

“Can I help you out?”

He turned his head ever so slightly and heard the muttered ‘oh’ long before he could formulate a response. Cheekily, he grinned. “Looking for a bit of light reading.”

Either the vendor was too polite to stop him or just accommodating, but she brushed up along his arm to let him know where she was. He appreciated that. Her dress was a dense satin by the sound of it, a long, sweeping thing that skirted stiffly over the toe of his boots. He could smell the faint perfume of lilacs from her hair and surmised it was very long indeed. Sometimes, when she turned her head, it swept over his knuckles.

“What kind of reading are you looking for?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Something engaging. Perhaps a bit of history, maybe some political intrigue.” Now he was just curious. How would she react to him?

“Well…” She paused a very long time, considering it. “I’m sorry. Not to be rude, but would you prefer books in braille?”

“That’s the only way I can take my books now.” He snickered. “Not a terrible question.”

“I don’t have many of those, to be frank.” Another pause. He could hear her sucking on her lower lip. “But come back in a week. I’ll have some for you.”

How charming. Was she really going to? How many blind readers did she get regularly? Mitsuhide snickered despite himself. “Of course. I’ll give it a go and see what you find.”

---

He escaped Hideyoshi’s prying eyes long enough to make another trip to the market a week later, though Masamune had to wake him up in time for it. This time the street was easier. Stupidly, he took pride in that. Now he counted the stalls, finding his way by memory to the booksellers.

“Good afternoon,” he called in the general direction. Much to his surprise, apparently he was correct. The rustle of stiff satin sounded near him, a gentle hand settling on his shoulder to let him know where she was. Her hands were small and slender. Absently, he wondered if the rest of her was the same.

“You’re back.” She sounded happy, of all things. He couldn’t remember the last time someone other than the Nine were pleased to see him. “Come here. I arranged some things.”

He permitted her to guide him into the tent--which it had to be, since the sun cooled after a few steps. Rolling her fingers over top of his (and her hand was very small, he could feel it now when theirs were compared), she moved his hands to a--

A label. In braille. He ran his fingertips over it, back and forth. History, it read.

“I took the liberty to label them all for you.” She told him, her voice shy and calm. The more he heard it, the more he liked it. “And there are some braille selections in each section now.”

What awaited him? One? Two? Mitsuhide ran his hands over the cool leather spines and found himself surprised. Five. She’d gone to the trouble to find him five titles in history alone. One by one, he went through each of the sections, finding more books than he’d dreamed she might conjure up for him in each. All told, she’d procured something in the neighborhood of fifty books.

And it made him happy. Not even happy--downright emotional. Something tightened in his chest like a fist, resting heavy against his ribcage. She’d done all this for him. She’d taken the time and trouble to do all this for him. “Did you know braille before this?”

“No. I did a little research, though, and got some input from others. I hope they’re all accurate.”

“They are,” he assured her, trying to keep his voice level. “They’re perfect.”

“I’m glad.” Now she was all softness and sunlight. “I’m very glad. I hoped you might like it.”

Mitsuhide barely thought about it before he reached for her hand (and found it on the first shot, which he considered a great success), squeezing it hard to still the trembling in his arm. How could something so small make him feel normal again? But he did; he did, and it was the most hopeful he’d felt in months. “Thank you.”

---

He visited the book stall every week now.

Navigating the cramped streets grew easier with time. Hideyoshi spotted him once and tried to intercede, but a stiff tap against his boots, and the man stopped.

“I can go through the market just fine,” Mitsuhide said. “Let me do it.”

Sometimes he stopped in other stalls, picking his way over fruit and selecting ripe oranges to present to the bookseller. He didn’t know her name, but every time he swung by with the snack, she seemed utterly delighted by them. They were expensive, so maybe she couldn’t afford it? Mitsuhide didn’t ask. He was content to find out on his own, sorting through bits of information like he used to do as a sighted man.

“You’re always finding new things for me, Princess,” he commented lightly one day, teasing his fingertips over the rough hewn countertop of her stall and purchasing what felt like the dozenth book.

“Princess?” She squeaked, and he reveled in the surprise in her voice.

“Not a good nickname? Should I call you Little Mouse?” He snickered at the faint rustle of her skirts, wondering what the expression on her face read. “Come now. Are you blushing?”

A moment’s hesitation. Then she reached out and cupped a hand over his, guiding it forward. Oh. There was a cheek. It bloomed hot under his touch, her skin soft and supple under his thumb. How similar it was to a petal. Mitsuhide frowned in concentration, easing his hand over her jaw.

“Oh, you are blushing.” He wanted to laugh, to tease, to pry at her until she was even redder--but it felt like too much of a gift to have her this way now, so vulnerable in his hand, so he didn’t. A grin would have to do. “Precious.”

[calebswitching]

Some Extra Cuddles - April 17

tagging: @ericxanders

location: Eric’s suite

backdated to April 17

summary: Eric takes care of Caleb after a difficult week of Easter egg scenes, and they talk about Caleb’s tendency to hide his needs

Caleb woke up feeling muddled like he had a hangover.  There was even a headache.  He was sleeping curled up against a warm body - Sir Eric, he remembered, as consciousness finally slid fully into place and he remembered the previous night.  Eric had asked to see him after Miss Frankie released him, so once they were done with their scene and Frankie had offered to let him go back to his own room for the night, if he wanted, he had asked to be allowed to go to Sir Eric’s room.  He had been drawn thin and worn out, both mentally and physically, by the time he got there.  His scene with Miss Frankie had been nothing but positive, but she’d been edging him all day with a vibrator, so he was exhausted.  And he’d had a difficult conversation with Nick over text, leaving his head swirling.  Thankfully, Sir Eric hadn’t seemed interested in much more than some gentle cuddling.  He hadn’t even made Caleb speak much, which he was grateful for.  It hadn’t been long before he fell asleep for the night.  Caleb pulled back now, rolling away from Eric enough to look at him.  He wasn’t really sure why Eric had wanted to see him last night.  They hadn’t even done anything.  He was watching the Dom, frowning, when Eric moved and looked at him, and Caleb looked hastily away.

He hadn’t been completely asleep. He’d woken up a while ago but he hadn’t wanted to move, or really even shift for fear of disturbing the peacefully sleeping Switch who had been wrapped up in his arms the moment he’d set foot through the door. He blinked his eyes open when he felt Caleb pull back from him, suddenly feeling the breeze of cold air hit him. ‘Good morning beautiful.’ He greeted, slowly reaching out a hand to rest against Caleb’s hip. ‘I was quite enjoying being so tangled up in you.’ He confessed, stroking his thumb back and forth over the patch of skin. ‘How’re you feeling this morning?’ He prompted gently, resisting the urge to immediately pull him closer once more.

“Good morning, Sir,” Caleb murmured, smiling a little at the way Eric spoke to him so fondly.  “Oh, I, um, I’m sorry,” he said, and shifted back towards Eric.  He hadn’t realized Eric was awake, let alone enjoying holding him, or he wouldn’t have pulled away.  Hesitantly, he leaned against Eric again, laying his head on the Dom’s shoulder.  “I’m alright, Sir,” he mumbled.  “Just tired.”

He felt a little more contented when Caleb cuddled back in close to him although he hoped he wasn’t doing it just because he felt he had to. ‘I’m not surprised you’re tired sweet boy.’ He hummed, ducking his head to press a kiss against Caleb’s hair. ‘You had an incredibly intense week that only continued after the Egg scenes were done and dusted.’ He acknowledged. ‘I feel like you haven’t given yourself the break you very much deserve.’ He suggested. He allowed his fingers to continue to roam, brushing against the slivers of skin on show, and otherwise tracing patterns over his clothes. ‘The plan is for your forty-eight hours with me to start now; and the goal is just to relax. I want you to rest and allow me to help take care of you beautiful.’ He explained. ‘You’re going to run yourself ragged.’

Caleb relaxed against Eric again, sighing softly.  Eric was always so sweet to him, so gentle.  He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to complain.  He liked the way Eric called him ‘sweet boy’ and kissed his hair and held him firmly.  He grimaced when Eric mentioned his intense week, and giving himself a break.  It was true, the last week had been a lot, and had been taxing on Caleb.  He still had bruises on his ass that were sore when he sat on them.  “Yes, Sir,” he said softly, when Eric put him under orders officially.  But he didn’t like the idea of having forty-eight hours to relax.  That was too much.  Especially if he was going to be spending it with Sir Eric.  He should be serving Eric, not being lazy while Eric took care of him.  He swallowed and buried his face in Eric’s shoulder more firmly.  He wasn’t going to argue.  He would do as he was told.  Maybe if he was good, Sir Eric would allow him to do some chores for him, at least.  And he certainly wasn’t going to do anything that would stop the tender way that Eric was touching him.

As worried as he was about the Switch, he felt oddly calmed by the simple action of holding him in his arms. ‘There’s my good boy.’ He smiled warmly. There were certain submissives he liked hearing ‘yes Sir’ from more than anyone else: Caleb was one of two. ‘Since we’re both awake early, how would you feel about a morning walk together?’ He suggested. Getting out into the fresh air was always something that helped his mind and he hoped it would do the same for Caleb. ‘When we come back, I want to put some arnica on your bruises to help them heal.’ He explained, sliding his hand down to rest on the small of Caleb’s back. ‘Or if you’d prefer, we can have a more chilled morning, cook a big breakfast, eat on the balcony.’ He offered, giving choice without outright asking him what he wanted to do. He’d make a decision based on how he read Caleb’s response to each option.

Caleb smiled a little at the praise, letting it sink into him and settle him, and he nuzzled against Eric’s shoulder.  He nodded as Eric spoke, but then stopped when he offered a second option.  Caleb was quiet for a minute.  He hated making decisions.  And he was still sleepy and his brain felt fuzzy.  He didn’t want to think.  “Um… just, whatever you’d like, please, Sir.”  Hopefully Eric would just pick, and not make him have an opinion.

‘Do you want me to just make decisions for a while sweet boy?’ He asked kindly, tilting his head up so he could kiss his forehead. ‘I think we’ll get up and take a walk. The fresh air will do us both good.’ He decided with a nod. The whole point of this aftercare was to ensure Caleb rested but also to help take his mind back to a place where he felt comfortable making choices for himself. If he wasn’t there for a while, that would be fine. Eric relished and felt honoured by the responsibility. ‘We can swing by your room and you can gather the essentials for staying here too.’ He suggested, giving him a squeeze.’

Caleb lifted his head to look up at Eric, at once anxious and hopeful.  “Would that be alright, Sir?”  It would be so much better not to have to choose, not to try to weigh out each decision, try to guess what would please Eric more.  So much easier just to do as he was told.  He nodded when Eric made a decision and relaxed against him again.  “Yes, Sir.  Thank you.”

‘That would be more than alright.’ He nodded to reassure him. He knew Caleb found it difficult to ask for things, even when they were things he needed so he was thrilled he’d managed even that. ‘On the condition that if I make the decision to do something you really don’t want to do, you tell me. Today is about taking care of you sweet boy. Today is your day.’ He explained.

Caleb frowned, but murmured, “Yes, Sir,” anyway.  He didn’t think it would be a problem, having to tell Eric of he chose something Caleb really didn’t like, because he couldn’t imagine Eric choosing something all that awful.  He was frowning at the second part.  The assertion that it was his day.  He didn’t know what that meant.  “Does that mean I won’t be allowed to serve you at all, Sir?”  His voice was quiet, and he did his best to keep it light and not sound like he was complaining or protesting.

‘Something tells me that’s not what you want.’ He observed, bringing his fingers to Caleb’s face to trace the frown lines that had formed. ‘I’m not saying that you can’t serve sweet boy. I know there’s so much of that that you take genuine pleasure in; much like Maverick does. The two of you; sometimes I think you’re cut from the same cloth and sometimes you’re so vastly different.’ He smiled. ‘There are lots of ways you can be my submissive and still take it easy. I want us to stay away from any kind of sexual play, or particularly kink based play.’ He explained. ‘You’ve had a lot of that in the last week, it’s been intense and that’s what I think you need time to recover from. You can stop and correct me at any point Caleb. I’m only trying to make educated guesses so if I’m wrong, tell me.’ He encouraged.

Caleb ducked his head back down, embarrassed.  Not ten seconds ago, Eric had told him to say something if he didn’t want to do something, and now he already had to remind him.  “No, you’re right, Sir,” he sighed, leaning into Eric again.  “It… was a lot.  I just… I don’t want to be lazy or spoiled.  Please.  If I could just serve you without it being sexual, would that be okay, Sir?”

‘Let me be very clear Caleb, taking time to recover and look after yourself is not lazy and it does not make you spoiled.’ He said firmly. It felt important to make that clear. He didn’t want Caleb to feel guilty about the relaxation he so obviously needed. ‘You’re someone I care about. You’re sweet and you’re good and I want to take care of you. I want you here with me, resting, recovering. I want to help make your head less busy because I swear I’m looking at you and I can see the wheels turning.’ He remarked with a fond smile. ‘It’s the Dominant in me. I feel compelled to look after you.’ He teased. ‘You just draw me to you.’ He winked. ‘We’ll find a balance between serving and relaxing; we’ll work together until we find a balance you feel comfortable with. I’m gonna start by asking you to take your pants down so I can get a look at your ass; I wanna get some arnica gel on to soothe those bruises before we head out for a walk.’

Caleb was glad that he was snuggled into Eric with his face hidden in Eric’s shoulder so the Dominant couldn’t see the way he cringed at Eric’s tone.  He knew Eric wasn’t angry, but he was certainly being firm, and it brooked no argument whatsoever.  “Yes, Sir,” Caleb said very quietly, muffled by Eric’s shoulder.  He didn’t know what to make of all this.  The idea that Eric was drawn to him was difficult to process.  He didn’t know why Eric would want to take care of him so much, when he clearly didn’t want much of anything in return.  But Caleb wouldn’t protest, no matter how confused he was.  He just nodded and pulled away from Eric, crawling out from the covers so he could pull his boxers off.  He dropped them on the floor, then arranged himself on the bed, on all fours, with his face lowered down onto the bed in order to properly present his ass for Eric’s inspection.

With a featherlight touch, he reached out and traced his fingertips over every welt and bruise. He was almost immediately able to identify which had been caused by him. ‘You know this is beautiful don’t you?’ he remarked. ‘This is such an incredible physical manifestation of your submission; of the trust you place in the Dominants you scene with, in me.’ He couldn’t pretend he was really worried about the bruising; he’d seen worse and it was something to be expected when someone enjoyed impact play as much as Caleb did. ‘This’ll feel cold.’ he warmed as he started to massage the arnica over the injured skin. ‘This will just help you heal up that little bit faster.’ he explained, taking great care.

Caleb twisted a little so he could look at Sir Eric.  He’d been told that his ass was hot when covered in bruises before, but never beautiful.  And not like that, in such a tender way.  And it felt strange, because it wasn’t about trust, for Caleb.  To him, submission wasn’t about trust, it was about acceptance.  But he smiled at Eric all the same.  Even if he didn’t fully understand, it still felt like praise, and made him feel good.  “Thank you, Sir,” he murmured.  His ass was rather tender as Eric touched it, even as gentle as he was, but Caleb still had no difficulty staying still and quiet as Eric ministered to the area.

‘Good boy.’ He praised. ‘I can only imagine this is a little uncomfortable.’ He concentrated; ensuring he fully covered every bruise and then leaned forward to press a kiss to the small of his back. ‘We’ll use this quicker next time.’ He suggested as he capped the tube and moved to offer Caleb assistance in getting to his feet. ‘You’ll need to give it a few minutes to dry and then we can both throw something on and head out for some fresh air.’ He decided, thinking it would do them both a lot of good.

*****

Most of the day was uneventful, but Caleb found it was remarkably restful knowing that he was expected back in Eric’s room for the lunch break and immediately after classes, and knowing that Eric would be in charge of him all evening.  He didn’t have to worry about what he should be doing.  He could just let Eric lead.  After classes, he sat on the floor by the couch to do his homework.  “Sir?” he said when Eric walked over.  He showed him a few pages of notes he’d just finished copying.  “These are yesterday’s notes from the classes that I was distracted during.  You told me to find someone’s to copy….”

‘I did, and you did. Good boy.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, and crouched down so he could properly look over the notes. He didn’t doubt for a second that Caleb had done an excellent job but he didn’t want him to think he was just fobbing him off either. ‘Are you all caught up now?’ He asked shifting into a seated position on the floor beside him. He scooted back so he could lean against the couch and looked at him expectantly. ‘If you’re finished with your homework, I think we should talk a while.’ He explained. He wanted to talk more openly with him; something wasn’t right and Nick had alluded to things with his ex. ‘If you’re still working that’s fine. You can just come find me when you’re ready.’

Caleb smiled softly and the praise and leaned his head into Eric’s hand.  “Yes, Sir,” he answered with a nod, though his expression turned careful when Eric said he wanted to talk.  That could mean anything, and so many of them weren’t good.  “I’m done, Sir.”  He hesitated, then shifted from sitting to kneeling, resting comfortably back on his heels, hands in his lap.  If Eric wanted to talk, Caleb wanted to appear appropriately submissive while he listened.

‘You don’t need to kneel sweet boy.’ He told him simply. ‘I just want us to have a conversation and I want you to feel relaxed. I really do just want to talk to you; I’m not trying to catch you out or anything.’ He promised him. He reached out to cover his hands folded in his lap and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. ‘Come on, we’ll move to the couch. That’s bound to be more comfortable for both of us.’ He stood to his feet and offered a hand out to Caleb, and just waited for him to take it.’

Caleb resisted the urge to frown.  He didn’t know why Eric, or any Dominant, would want him not to kneel.  He thought about saying that he was relaxed when he knelt like this, but decided against it.  Better to just do as Eric wanted.  And it was true, the couch was more comfortable.  Caleb took Eric’s hand with a murmured thanks and moved up onto the couch.

He found he second guessed himself more with Caleb than most submissives. He was hard to read; that wasn’t a bad thing, just something he needed to get used to. He sat close to him on the couch; trying to find the balance of being present and overcrowding him. ‘I’m trying to figure out what’s going on in your head.’ He remarked gently, keeping hold of Caleb’s hand and holding it in his lap. ‘I’m worried about you. I’m worried you’re dropping after everything that happened last week. I’m worried I’m not doing any of the right things for you. I’m worried that I’m making you uncomfortable and that you’re not going to speak up.’ He brought Caleb’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. ‘I want you to try and talk to me about what you’re thinking, about what’s going on. There aren’t any wrong answers beautiful. I just wanna know that I’m doing everything you need.’

Caleb bit his lip, staring down at their entwined hands.  When Eric admitted that he was worried that he was making Caleb uncomfortable, though, Caleb’s eyes shot up to Eric’s, distressed by that idea.  “No- no, Sir, you haven’t made me uncomfortable.”  He could do that all on his own, he didn’t need Eric’s help to feel uncomfortable.  He shook his head and lowered his gaze again.  “I don’t need anything, Sir.  You’re already giving me more than I need.”  It was true.  Just having Eric there to give him the occasional order helped so much.  It meant Caleb didn’t have to think so hard about everything.  And Eric was so open with praise and touching and hugging, which relaxed him more than anything.

In all situations, but especially ones like this, Eric felt it was always best to be completely honest. He hoped his own honesty would help Caleb be truthful and open in return. He didn’t think he would lie but he also wasn’t sure he ready the Switch was to talk about what was bothering him. He’d had a hint from Nick; obviously his ex was something to do with this and he wasn’t sure how to bring that up without giving away the fact he’d spoken to his brother. ‘What’s going on in your head sweetheart?’ He asked. ‘Do you think you’re dropping? Is something playing on your mind?’ He prompted.

Caleb shook his head again.  “No, Sir, I don’t think I’m dropping.”  It didn’t feel as dramatic as real subdrop.  He’d had subdrop before where it was hard to function, where he couldn’t seem to shake the fog that was slowing his brain down.  This wasn’t like that.  “I’m just tired, Sir,” he said with a shrug.  “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”  He knew Eric was going to ask him about that, as soon as he said it, so he continued.  “My brother Nick keeps asking me stuff about my ex-boyfriend.”

‘The one that made my kind of aftercare feel so foreign to you.’ He assumed, not having a name to put to the faceless man. He knew bits and pieces about Caleb’s ex. He had gleaned information from the way he behaved, the times he’d mentioned him. ‘Is he pushing you for information you’re not ready to share?’ He asked. ‘Is there anything I can help with? If you need to talk, I can promise I’ll just listen and let you clear your mind.’

“Yes, Sir,” Caleb said with a nod.  “He, um, he’s the only person I’ve dated, the only Dom I’ve even been with before coming here.  We were together for five years.”  He shrugged at Eric’s next question and shook his head.  “No, it’s not that I mind telling him things or talking about Mark.  Um, that’s my ex.  It’s just, it upsets Nick, and he keeps asking anyway.  He gets all worried about me.  I don’t really understand why he’s so worried, because I broke up with Mark.  I left him.  I don’t even talk to him anymore, I haven’t even answered his texts.  And he can’t transfer here, he’s not a triplet.  But Nick seems to think he needs to protect me, somehow, which is ridiculous, because he can’t protect me from my past.  I left Mark, it’s over, Nick can’t retroactively protect me from him. I know Nick is just worried because he loves me and he doesn’t want me to get hurt, but I swear I’m okay.”

‘Wanting to protect someone isn’t always logical in my experience.’ He said, taking a minute to process what Caleb was starting to reveal. He knew he’d promised to just listen but he couldn’t help but let his thoughts escape. He stopped himself before he could say anymore. ‘Do you want me just to listen or can we talk about this?’ He asked, putting the ball in Caleb’s court. This wasn’t a decision he could make for him.

Caleb shrugged and looked away.  He didn’t really want to tell Eric most of it, because he knew the Dominant would get upset, but at the same time, he didn’t feel comfortable refusing.  And talking about it wouldn’t upset Caleb.  He could talk about Mark pretty dispassionately, now that he was away from him.  “If you want to talk about it, I don’t mind, Sir.”

‘That’s not really answering my question, beautiful.’ He pointed out. ‘What I want isn’t the important thing right now; what’s important is what you want and this isn’t a decision I can make for you.’ He explained. ‘I’ll be honest, the bits and pieces I know about your ex — I can only assume he wasn’t a great guy. And if you were with him for five years? That’s a lot to unpack. You have to make the decision whether you want to do that or not. Whether you’re comfortable with sharing that, if it even is something you need to talk about.’ He strongly suspected it was but that choice had to be Caleb’s and his alone.

Despite his usual careful control, Caleb scowled for just a second before he reined in his emotions again.  What he wanted was to not have to make this decision.  If Eric was curious, Caleb would answer his questions.  If he didn’t want to know, Caleb would keep quiet about it.  “I don’t mind, Sir,” he said again, just slightly more insistent.  “It doesn’t bother me to talk about him.  It bothers other people.  And I don’t want to upset you.  That’s the reason I don’t like to bring it up.  I don’t want to distress anyone.”

‘I don’t think you’ll distress me Caleb.’ He remarked, taking a moment to process the flash of a scowl. ‘I think if someone has hurt you, then I’ll be sad for you. I won’t like that someone has hurt you and I’ll probably feel angry for you.’ He listed off honestly. ‘But I don’t think pitying you or trying to protect you is what you need from me. I think the hardest thing is learning to walk away from the things that aren’t good for you and you’ve obviously managed to do that.’ He complimented. ‘What I’m worried about and why I’m giving you the choice, is distressing you by asking you to recount things that are uncomfortable or upsetting.’

“But that’s what distress means,” Caleb said, his voice getting more strident.  “Sad, angry, upset, and that’s what I don’t want.  I don’t want anyone to be upset about it.”  He ducked his head down to hide the look of consternation he couldn’t quite smooth away, and glared at his lap.  “It doesn’t bother me to talk about it, Sir.  If that’s why you’re worried, it’s okay, you can ask whatever you want.”

‘Caleb, that’s not distress. That just means I care about you. It means I think you’re a wonderful person who only deserves to be treated kindly.’ He listened carefully for every change in his tone, and he relished it. This already seemed like such a far cry from the boy who had been so afraid to show him any real emotion. ‘The thing is sweet boy, as much as I can’t dictate your feelings, you can’t dictate mine. If someone hurts or has hurt someone I care about, that makes me angry. It doesn’t make me angry at you. It makes me angry at whoever did the hurting.’ He paused, really took him in; once again hating the fact that Caleb wouldn’t, couldn’t look at him. ‘Does this ex have anything to do with why you’re so frightened to ask for the things you need, why you feel out of control when it comes to your emotions?’

Caleb scowled and turned his head away. He didn't like how close to the truth Eric was. He didn't want to talk about how feelings. Talking about what happened was one thing, talking about his emotions was entirely another. Eventually, he nodded. He knew that it was rude just to sit there in a sullen silence, and Eric deserved far better than a recalcitrant, sulking submissive. But he couldn't think of any way to answer that wouldn't come out upset. So he just nodded in answer.

With Caleb, it was all gut. It was trusting his feelings, trusting his ability and going with his gut feeling. The problem was; he wasn’t quite sure what his gut was telling him to do. The Switch always responded better to Dominance and maybe that’s what he needed to inject more of. ‘That’s not an acceptable answer sweet boy.’ He continued to use the pet name he knew he was fond of so he knew he wasn’t angry. ‘Talk to me Caleb. I’m here and I’m listening and what I need from you right now, is for you to try to verbalise what’s going on in your head.’

Caleb ducked his head down guiltily. “I'm sorry,” he whispered automatically. He knew he needed to try harder to do what Eric wanted, that avoiding the question was disrespectful, but it was so difficult to approach this topic straight on.  He took a slow, steadying breath. “Yes, Sir.  It, um… it's why we didn't work. I'm too sensitive, I get too emotional.  I know sometimes that I'm feeling things that are irrational or unfair, and I don't want to put that on anyone else. I don't want anyone to he upset because of me.”

‘Do you trust me?’ He asked, ‘I’m asking because I want to tell you some things. I don’t expect you to believe me right off the bat but I need you to know that I am not saying anything to pander to you, or to make you feel better. I mean, I want to make you feel better but I’m not going to lie to do it.’  He prefaced, thinking over exactly what he wanted to say. ‘I know I only have a very limited experience of you but you have never struck me as someone who is too emotional or too sensitive. I don’t think of you as anything other than an intriguing individual, and a wonderfully bright submissive. I love watching you let go, and give in to sub space. You don’t have to kept things on such a tight leash all the time. We all feel things that are irrational sometimes; that’s part of being human. But I’m talking about those things, we understand them. We learn to differentiate what’s irrational and why isn’t. Sometimes, you just need some reassurance. I feel that too. Honestly Caleb, just last week, I was feel worried about insecure about things and I went straight to the person I was feeling those things about and I spoke to them. I told them where my head was at. It’s hard; I’m not debating that but it will help you. I want you to put that on me.’

“Yes, Sir, I trust you.” That was easy to answer. Eric had been so patient with him, every time they interacted.  He knew Eric was a really good Dominant. But as Eric spoke, Caleb sighed softly and looked down. “Is this still about my ex, Sir? Or is this about last week? I'm not feeling like I did then. I couldn't stop feeling like I had done something wrong then, but I know I haven't done anything bad today, Sir.  I'm not going to freak out like that again.”

‘It’s not really about your ex or about last week Caleb. The only person in the whole equation that I’m concerned about is you.’ He answered. He was conscious the conversation had veered but he found himself needing to contradict what Caleb was saying about himself, things he was coming to learn his ex had put in his head first. ‘I just want you to feel like you can talk to me and I don’t want you to feel like you’re distressing or inconveniencing me by doing so.’ He assured him. ‘I think you have a lot locked up in here, things to do with that last relationship that you don’t know how to unpack. I think you’ve done the brave thing in walking away but I don’t think you’ve dealt with all the emotional turmoil. And that’s okay. That takes time but I think that’s why you get so concerned with how other people react. I feel maybe he’s the one who told you you were too emotional, too sensitive and so you stopped expressing that. You stopped really letting yourself feel it and that’s why it scares you. Because he taught you it was a bad thing.’

Caleb was quiet for a while. He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't really know what it meant to deal with the emotional turmoil, as Eric said. But he knew he couldn't just sit there silently forever. “Mark was… difficult. Sometimes. He wasn't patient like you are, Sir.  When I got upset… he would punish me if I took it out on him. Which- I shouldn't have taken it out on him. I would get irritable, I'd snap at him, talk back to him… or I'd just be sullen, and sulk, and he hated that. And I just… being angry at all was too close to being angry at him. And once I was angry at him, it wouldn't end well.  I would end up doing or saying something bad.  Better to try to just keep an even keel.”

‘I had a similar conversation with Maverick lately. He was upset and all twisted up inside; he didn’t know how to express it and he snapped at me.’ He shared, genuinely thrilled that Caleb seemed to be starting to open up. ‘I didn’t punish him. The reason I didn’t punish him was because he needed a safe place to let his emotions out. He wasn’t yelling at me to be rude or because he wanted to take things out on me, it was all just too much for a minute. Outright taking your anger out on someone isn’t okay; no-one should be your emotional punching bag but that’s why you have to learn how to deal with your emotions. Just shoving them down doesn’t deal with them.’ He reiterated. ‘You’re allowed to get angry with me. I’m a human too. I promise you in all the time we spend together, I’m going to get things wrong. I’m going to say or do something that makes me upset or makes you mad. You don’t have to hide that from me. Tell me because if you don’t, how can I make it better?’ He tried not to talk about Mark. He didn’t think badmouthing him would go down particularly well; that wasn’t his place but he didn’t think very highly of him. ‘There’s a difference between being angry and taking your bad emotions out on someone else.’

Caleb looked up, surprised that anything similar had happened to Maverick. “Mav snapped at you, Sir?” That was almost hard to believe. Maverick was such a good boy, as close to a perfect submissive as Caleb could imagine. He nodded, though, as Eric continued. It made sense. Surely there was a medium level between taking his anger out on someone and not showing it at all. “But how do I know where the line is? I don't want to risk crossing it without realizing it. And the possibility of that… I need to minimize the risk. I'd rather be too polite than accidentally rude.  It's the same reason a person wears a seatbelt when they didn't need it, rather than risk being in an accident without it.”

‘So the only way we figure out where the line is for us is by talking. Communication right? The most important thing we have together.  Cause you’re gonna have lines for me, and I think we both need to try to not be afraid of those lines. Don’t be afraid of crossing a line that hasn’t been established yet y’know?’ He remarked. ‘I’m not going to punish you or push you away for something like that. Because it’s a learning experience. For both of us really. I’m preaching all this to you but I don’t get it right all the time.’ He insisted. He didn’t want to put himself on any kind of pedestal; he was very aware of his shortcomings.

Caleb frowned as he looked down again, thinking.  Easy for you to say, he kept thinking, even though he knew the thought was unhelpful at best.  “It’s just… I don’t mean this as a complaint, Sir, but… it’s less of a risk for you.  When you’re with a submissive, I mean.  If you cross a line…  it’s not like the submissive can punish you, Sir.  And besides.  Yours is the opinion that carries any kind of weight, when you’re with a sub.  Or a switch like me, too.”

‘No, they can’t punish me in the way I could punish them but that doesn’t reduce the risk. It just makes it different.’ He explained. ‘Any submissive I scene with puts a fucking shitload of trust in me; they give themselves over completely trusting that I’ll take care of them; if I actually screw up and cross a line at the wrong moment, it could be really damaging. And god no, Caleb. My opinion isn’t the only one that matters ever. You’re a Switch who leans submissive; your opinion and your thoughts about your body, your feelings, things you want to happen to you. They’re all valid. Dominance as submission is a partnership; we don’t work without the other.’

“But the person being damaged, in that situation, is the sub, Sir.  I understand that crossing a line is a risk for you, too, but it’s not the same risk.”  He shook his head helplessly and tugged a hand through his hair.  He was trying to hide his frustration, but it was difficult.  Eric was being so calm and logical, as usual, and Caleb felt like he didn’t know how to make him understand.  “I didn’t mean that my opinion never matters, Sir.  It just… matters less. And I’m not complaining, it’s not a bad thing.  It’s just how it is.  The Dominant leads and the submissive follows.  You make decisions and I obey them.  And I’m not unhappy with that.  I like that I don’t have to be the one to make decisions.  But it means that a Dominant’s opinions matter more, most of the time.”

‘But I only get to make those decisions because you trust me. I have to prove every single time that you’re right to do that. I have to show you that I deserve to be your Dominant for a scene or any other interaction. Your opinions are incredibly important to me; I want you to feel that you have some agency over yourself and what happens to you. That’s why I talk to you about your limits, what you’re comfortable exploring.’ He implored. He suspected they weren’t going to come to an agreement; and that was okay. He didn’t need Caleb to agree, and as long as the way he was thinking wasn’t causing him damage, he could think how he liked. It was the fact that the way he seemed to be thinking was harmful that gave him cause for concern. ‘Here’s where I stand right now, there are no lines for you to cross other than basic manners. Be respectful and show those. That’s all I need from you right now. Everything else we will learn and draw together. The thing I want to help you understand is that you don’t need to be afraid of your emotions. It’s okay to show them.’ He promised, gently untangling Caleb’s hand from his hair to replace it with his own much softer touch. ‘I think you should think about talking to Mav about this. He might understand you more easily than I seem to be because he’s the submissive in the equation. Talk to him about how I dealt with him. I really want for you to feel happy and safe sweet boy.’ He concluded. They were going to talk in circles and he didn’t want to exhaust the topic. ‘What do you need from me now? What is your gut telling you you need?’

Caleb let Eric replace his hand in his hair, and he leaned into the touch. “I know I'm safe with you, Sir,” he said with a soft sigh. “I know you'll take care of me when I'm with you. ...Thank you for being so patient, Sir.” He didn't feel like he had the amount of agency that Eric seemed to think, but he recognized that it was possible that he was wrong and he had more power than he realized. And more to the point, he knew it was possible that he had more agency here and now, with Eric specifically, than he was used to having with Mark. Regardless, it was helpful to hear a more concrete list of what Eric saw as lines he shouldn't cross. It wasn't definitive, but it was a start. When Eric asked him what he needed, Caleb hesitated. He still didn't like asking for anything, even when he was directly instructed to ask. “Can I have a hug, Sir?”

‘You know, I was just thinking how much I’d like the same thing.’ He acknowledge, moving his hand from his hair and catching Caleb’s in his own. He pulled him forward and wrapped him up in an impossibly tight embrace, almost drawing him completely into his lap. It didn’t matter in the slightest that Caleb was just a little bit taller. ‘You’re a good boy Caleb, and I am very aware of just how fortunate I am to be a Dominant you trust, and to be your friend. I hope you know I don’t take those things for granted.’ He whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair. ‘Are you feeling okay? Are you still happy for us to have company later?’

Caleb leaned forward and ducked his head down to hide his face in the crook of Eric's neck. Despite the difficult conversation, Caleb felt safe here, being held in Eric's arms. He sighed and relaxed against him, absorbing the praise and letting it soothe him. He nodded at the question without moving from his spot tucked into Eric's chest. “I'm okay, Sir.  I'm not upset. And I like Sir Dave and Mav. I, um… I'm just really grateful for you spending all this time on me, Sir. I know there's no reason you'd have to be so kind to me and I'm really grateful for it.”

‘You give me plenty of reason to be kind to you sweet boy.’ He corrected. It wasn’t argumentative. It was gentle. Whispered. He was glad Caleb still felt up to having company; that would be good for him. Maverick and Dave were both people who brought a genuine brightness and joy to a room; people who enriched his life and he felt strongly they’d do the same for Caleb. ‘I want you staying by me this evening. I know Dave wants to check on you; and I want to apply some more arnica before they come over but when that’s done, I want you either kneeling at my feet or curled up against me.’ He felt clingy. It was as much for his benefit as it was the Switch’s. it had been an emotional afternoon and he was sure this wouldn’t be the last time they had a conversation like this but he felt good about it. This was another piece of progress.