#and i barely got the executive to help squeeze the water for like. Less than a minute while i went to grab smth

[eudico-my-beloved]

I fucking hate my culinary class table group soooo bad i should be allowed to hit them with carrots i think

[minho-hoho]

caring for you

GENRE fluff PAIRING bf!Jeongin x gn!reader WARNING not proofread yet REQUESTED yes WC 0.7k NOTE damn why do i suck at fluff 🥴

MASTERLIST

your head sat on the palm of your hand as you watched your boyfriend sleep. his cheeks and nose were painted a hot shade of red, making him look cute despite his state.

you had warned him to wear warm clothes, the icy cold of the winter was ruthless, and wouldn't hesitate to attack him if it got the chance, but jeongin was too stubborn to listen to you, and believed he was stronger than the weather.

unfortunately, he lost the battle, and he was now sick, devoid of any energy.

while all of this could have been avoided, had he listened to you, you weren't heartless, and you loved him with all of your being. and as result, you decided to act as his own personal caretaker until he recovered fully.

for now, your only task was to make sure he was sleeping soundly, and that he got some rest, to which you were doing an amazing job at, until jeongin woke up.

“y/n~~” your boyfriend whined. you couldn't help but melt at his cuteness.

“yes, baby?” you answered, taking his hand in your own.

“can i have some water please?” he asked, his eyes barely opened.

“i'm on it, do you want anything else with it?” you squeezed his hand.

“umm, could i have the medicine?”

“of course you can, i'll be right back.” you smiled as you gave him a small kiss on the back of his hand.

and so, you did exactly what he asked for. you were glad you could help him when he needed it, it wasn't often he got sick, and much less often he asked for your help.

you entered the room a bottle of water in your hand and the medicine in the other. jeongin was seated on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for you, warm blankets surrounding him.

“here's your order mr.” you said, a small smile on the corner of your lips.

he thanked you, he took a sip of the water and took his pain relievers. you watched him attentively, eyes full of love.

“do you want to do anything, or would you rather sleep some more?”

he hesitated, thinking about anything he would like to do with you at the moment. as if a light bulb illumated on top of his head, he answered, “could we watch a movie? please?” he tugged at your sleeve, a pout forming on his face.

“then movie time it is, i'll get everything ready, you just get cuddled up and choose a movie, okay?” you ruffled his hair as he face shined brightly at your positive answer.

you went into the kitchen, and started to prepare the popcorn, just the way he liked it. you put all of your love and care into those popcorn, wanting to see nothing but see the satisfied smile on his face you loved so dearly.

“have you found anything yet?” you called out to jeongin, checking up on him.

“no, not yet.” you could almost hear him pout.

you chuckled to yourself before continuing, “well hurry up, i'm almost done over here.”

he hummed as a response to you, and you couldn't help but shake your head as you stirred the popcorn.

a few minutes passed and you heard jeongin's pleased voice, “i found it! the perfect movie that will satisfy every one of our senses!”

“if so, i'll be next to you in a minute.” you joined him, a bowl in your hand, before putting on the table next to him.

jeongin extended his arms, signing you to come and join him under the covers. you executed yourself, snuggling up to him.

he grabbed the remote and started to play the movie.

it was a cute and heart-warming movie, its slow pace almost made you fall into slumber. however, you felt a delicate tap on your shoulder, waking you up; you looked at your right to see jeongin looking at you, an enamoured look on his face. he brought you even closer to him, before whispering in your ear, “y/n, i love you”.

writhing after hearing his kind and loving, yet so simple words. fuzzy feelings taking over the dazed and sleepy state you were in, you answered him promptly.

“love you too, baby”

PERM TAG LIST! : @stacey-stonem, @sh1mzu, @axartia, @echantedrose, @leeknowbuttsmasher, @nikipedia07, @deafeningballoonnacho, @scrumptiousphilosopherunknown

[ohheyitsokay]

just a day

welcome to the poly frontier? 

listen absolutely no shade to the other authors who write triple frontier poly fics (I got permission) I just wanted to try my take on what relationships with this group of guys would look like - and I honestly think my execution is going to look really really different. This one’s just for me to explore and start to develop the dynamics, so I really hope you all enjoy!

note: I’m going to say this is an 18+ series, sorry!

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 2k?

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

another note: I will not be fetishizing male/male relationships, nor will I be including any romance or sexual between the brothers

>>

You wake up tucked into Will’s chest, his beard tickling your hairline like he fell asleep kissing it. Hand on his chest, you feel the steady rise and fall of it, slow and peaceful in the murky morning light. His arm is around your shoulder, half tangled in your hair, and there’s another arm tucked around your waist from behind - Santi's.

Pressing a kiss to Will’s collarbone, you gently begin the process of extracting yourself, apologizing with soft squeezes instead of words. Their hands find each others in their sleep, and you almost think you made it, for once, before Will’s blue eyes find yours for just a moment. It happens every morning – they need to know you’re okay. 

Verifying the time, he gives a bleary smile before rolling, free arm searching for a pillow to hold against his body in your place during the precious few minutes he has before he needs to get up, too. 

Frankie is in the kitchen already, and of all of them, he’s the best at hearing your quiet footsteps. His arms wrap around your frame, gathering you into him as he relishes the feeling of just you and him, for a moment.

Your nails run over his back, and he shudders at the feeling, smiling at you a little as the two of you pull things out of the fridge. It’s unreasonable, how many groceries you all go through, but feeding them is important to you, a love language in itself. Frankie was the first awake – his coffee is already brewing. In half an hour, give or take, Will and Santi will wander out, and the smells in the kitchen will change, but not yet.

For now, it’s dark roast coffee and there are quiet crunches of the apple you tossed into his broad palm. It’s not enough for the whole day so you tuck a breakfast bar into his work bag for later, with and extra jacket and a water bottle. There’s no need for notes, with him, the slow kisses he shares with you at the door are more than enough to bring him home to you in the evening. Before he can give up his time with you his hand slips under the shirt you’re wearing, just running over your bare side like he has all the time in the world. 

Then his hat is firmly on his head, and he brushes his rough thumb over your cheek, looks at the stairs to the bedroom with just a touch of longing, and slides out the door.

You’re mixing peanut butter into a premade jar of overnight oats when Will wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his warm chest against your back. He’s tired – more than the others, and you let him borrow your strength for long moments. Santi watched from the doorway, giving them too you, his eyes fiercely affectionate, before he sandwiches Will between you half crushing you with their weight.

Laughter is a good way to start the day, even if it breaks the quiet. 

They bump into each other, happy, but silently arguing over who’s turn it is, before Santi relents and slips off to the shower. When you hand Will the jar, he kisses your temple before your mouth, and his hand is firm on your hip. He makes you eat with him, would make you pancakes if he had time, and asks what you’re working on today. His fingers flip the pen in his hand, but he’s too distracted by you to work through the paper like he did before. It’s new, all of you sharing the same space, and there are pros and cons. 

Then they trade places and Santi's body is damp and insistent as he kisses you, a little too needy for a man who has less than twenty minutes before he has to leave. You cant really deny him, though, indulging his touching while exploring him in turn, before pushing his distractingly bare chest away from you. He talks about his day a lot, considering it hasn’t happened yet, but his passion is contagious. He isn’t planning on telling you, but he fixed a bug on your laptop last night before he went to bed, and hid your favorite chocolate in your desk.

The kitchen smells like juice and granola now, and the ache of waking up is seeping out of your limbs.

When Benny comes out, you expect him to complain about the noise, but he doesn’t, just ruffles his hair and hugs Santi sleepily from behind.

His energy hasn’t quite built for the day, but he cant really sleep in like he wants to, and likes to see them off. He was restless last night, you could tell even with Santi between you on the bed, and you wonder if he relaxed at all. You give them space, retreating to get yourself ready and set up in your home office, pausing to send Will off with kisses and well wishes. When he forgets his timing and kissed down your neck, you hook your fingers in to his belt loops and he almost calls in sick.

It doesn’t happen, though, he’s too responsible without extra encouragement, and his eyes crinkle as he promises to continue, later.

Then it’s Santi and Benny’s turn, looking silly with the former prepared for tedious meetings and the other in his pajama's with a duffle bag, but that’s how it goes, sometimes. 

When Benny finishes at the gym, he finds you working away, lost in your music, and hovers at the door for awhile before his eagerness for you wins out. His hands are needy, but he doesn’t say words – his eyebrows speak for him and you nearly give in to his big, pleading eyes. 

He likes it when you run your hands through his hair, and you do, and press a promise into his cheek with your lips. You know today isn’t a day he wants to plan fights or check emails or update his socials, but he gets to it anyway, waiting for you, and needed to feel productive. They’re all too smart, beautifully, wonderfully overpowered with strength and mind and love and you know they cant help but direct it somewhere, Benny included.

As you finish your work for the morning your phone tells you the others are meeting up for lunch, and you thank them individually for the chance to give Ben a little extra attention.

Last night’s fight hadn’t gone great. The four of you had rallied behind him afterwards, patching him up while Santi yelled about justice and Frankie forced him to eat and drink, but now was time for something different. You were the center of this world they’d created, the one who’s undivided attention meant everything to them. 

Ben rarely wanted to talk about the pain, during, needed to punch it out at the gym or be soothed by Santi's validation before seeking you for heated, slightly painful kisses. Now, though, he’s frustrated with himself, and seeing it hurts in your chest like the cut across his skin.

You settle onto the huge bed in his corner, offering him your arms and a smile that soothes the throbbing in his bruises. This is a moment just for the two of you, and he takes full advantage, tucking his head onto the pillow of your chest and letting your hands wander his shoulders and hair and neck. Ben starts out ranting, but gets distracted along the way, soaking in your attention and the sliver of skin exposed on your stomach.

He kisses along the line, unable to resist half smiling at you as he licks it, almost losing himself to the temptation to go a round with you all on his own. They wouldn’t mind, really, but he doesn’t, just shifts back up to press your mouth against his. It’s slower and it’s nice for him not to have to be intense, with you.

The afternoon is spent quietly, both of you working diligently, knowing the others are doing the same, so you can cherish your precious free evening. You find a note from Frankie, a little inside joke that he knows will remind you of a story, and it makes you text him something that will make him laugh. 

At some point Santi calls you, frustrated, needing to verbal process, and the three of you on speaker phone navigate it with the gusto of heroes on a fantastical adventure. Will’s logic is absent with him, but you get the feeling it hardly matters, this time around. In truth, Ben is better at working the tightness out of Santi’s voice, and when you talk, you can hear him sigh like you’ve scrubbed a bit of darkness out of his day. 

When he gets home his mood is much improved and he picks Benny up with a grunt, spinning him around once, thick arms careful of the younger man’s sore spots. You get an equally soft kiss, and you smack him when he squeezes your ass, a glint in his eye.

There’s still a bit of shyness in Ben as he asks Pope to look over the videos from the fight, still a bit of awe and raw respect for the older man, and it makes you melt a little to see. The men are tentative sometimes, about the developments in their relationships with each other, but some things needn’t change. 

The couch is nice, a recent purchase, and you have a matching chair you like to settle in, mostly ignoring the distant voices and glancing out the window through the leaves of a large tree in the front yard. There’s a story on your phone you’ve been meaning to catch up on, and it’s peaceful, reading as the clouds float by.

There’s sounds of tires rolling over the gravel, and it makes you laugh when you open the door to see Ironhead and Catfish carrying no less than a small crate of take-out from Benny’s favorite Italian place. Unpacking it, Will spends more time invading your space, catching up, and flirting with you than Frankie does. He would never say it aloud, but he’s excited to see the reaction to their surprise.

He gets a perfect one – Benny yells when he smells it, and is jumping up and down, and the way Frankie’s chest puffs tells you it was his idea. Will gives you a squeeze and you know he’s proud, too, if for different reasons. He takes the moment of distraction, while the attention is on his brother, to slip his hand in your back pocket and kiss you without anyone noticing. If he had his way, he would yank you into the laundry room, but the idea of eating together keeps your feet planted and he sighs against your mouth. 

The boys eat like they’re starved, before they’re grabbing at you, coaxing you into the living room, and you’re beyond thankful there’s not really dishes to do. It’s not that they would make you do them, but it’s nice for all of you to be able to ride out the remarkably low-effort evening. 

Santi is insistent it’s his turn – the others have all had their time with you today, and only Will grumbles. They compromise, your legs over the later,  your side in the protective hallow of the formers chest. You choose a movie at random, knowing they’ll talk through it if you do. It’s nice, to listen to them banter from the cozy arms wrapped around you.

They get caught up talking about an old friend you’ve never met, and Frankie tries to explain things to you as they rapid-fire stories and bets on where he is now. You roll your eyes when you lose track again and again, but it’s full of joy, and he catches it before getting pulled into a ridiculous debate. 

Hands run over your calves, gently kneading, and you wonder if Will even knows he’s doing it – taking care of you is his second nature.

The film is finished but the talking hasn’t, now moved on to the inaccuracies in the movie as they try to outdo each other with random useless knowledge. There’s no real annoyance in their voices as they bite at each other, and you think that really, nothing has changed, and it’s good.

At some point you doze off.

There’s hushed arguing, and Frankie wins, scooping you into his sturdy arms and carrying you to bed. He likes the way you murmur your thanks, and his heart pounds as you sleepily pull off his hat and toss it somewhere. It makes him feel like you knew it was him, could feel it was, even in your mostly unconscious state. It’s a nice feeling, and he tucks it away in his mind, hoping to save it for if ever he get’s jealous. 

The sleeping arrangements are a mess – Will has tried multiple times to make cohesive charts, and none of them stick. It’s a tangle of limbs and everyone shifts depending on temperature and general neediness. Santi laments the choice of a movie over a long evening of unhurried lovemaking, and receives and smack on the stomach in return. It makes you wake, halfway, and when your arms reach for him, he forgets his previous complaints.

They settle at their own pace, quiet conversations floating in and out of your dreams, and the sounds of teeth being brushed and plans being made make you smile. Tomorrow maybe, you’ll be up without a thought, awake and talking or kissing with whoever else didn’t need as much sleep, but for now, you didn’t mind. It was just day, with many before and many to come.

>>

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

[peachiimilquetea]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 6 months or so, your boyfriend is presented with a little predicament

contains: sub!demon bf x dom!reader, mistress kink, choking, riding, bf in heat, gn!afab reader

- you two had only been dating for a few months, 7 at the most

- your boyfriend had been being distant lately

- answering your texts late

- cutting facetimes short

- declining offers to hang out

- you were suspicious but every time you asked him directly, he denied it claiming he was perfectly fine

- he was a shit liar for a demon

- after a week of this you decided to surprise him at his home

- you two had been dating long enough for you to know his work schedule so there's no way he wouldn't be home

- you took the day off work and took the bus to his place, heart in your ass the whole time

- what if he was cheating on you or something?

- you didn't want to think about that

- stepping up to his apartment door you felt sticky and hot

- was it hot outside?

- the door felt significantly warmer as you raised your hand to knock on it

- you didn't get a response but you heard a faint groan and some shuffling

- you knocked harder

- this man would open up if you had to rip the door apart with your bare hands

- you tried the doorknob on a whim and to your surprise, it opened up

- his apartment was dark inside and messy

- not the kind of messy that would cause for concern but he definitely hadn't left it for a few days

- you heard more shuffling from the direction of his room and made the executive decision to investigate

"babe?"

- no response

- you kept moving deeper into the apartment, feeling the air get thicker with each passing step

- what the fuck was going on?

"baby? its me. i know you're home you're not slick."

- your boyfriend's voice answered back, muffled through his bedroom door

"please i need you to leave"

- leave? why would you leave?

"I just need you to tell me what's going on. its ok I won't be mad at you"

- that was a partial lie but you needed to get him to talk to you

"I need- hnghh~ i need you to leave please"

"are you ok? you sound like you're in pain. let me-"

"NO! no! please... just stay where you are. this is fine."

- his voice was shaky and uneven, even through the muffled door

- something was wrong

"I'm sorry, but I'm coming in"

- a strangled noise came out of your boyfriend's throat as you neared the door

- you could hear him scrambling to get away from you

- this door handle was even hotter than the one at the front door as you turned it, getting hit with a wave of steam and musky scent

- it wasn't bad per se... but he had definitely been sweating

- a lot

- he sat curled up in the corner of the room farthest away from you

- he was wearing nothing but his briefs, tail coiled around his legs

"is this a demon thing that you neglected to tell me about?"

- all you got was a whimper in return

"babe... what is going on"

- he mumbled out a response

"what?"

"...iminheat"

"you what?

"I'm in heat"

- oh

- well

- thats definitely new

"thats a thing that can happen?"

"yes and now you need to leave"

- he practically hissed at you

- you could see it all over his face

- he was flushed and burning up, struggling to hold himself back

"please"

- his voice was so small

- you had never seen him like this. so fucked out. so needy without so much as a touch

- it sparked a tightening sensation in your lower abdomen as you tried to will yourself not to be turned on at a time like this

- he needed your help

- and you wanted to help him in the nastiest of ways

"and why can't I stay?"

- you wanted to rile him up a little

- just to get a taste of how far gone he truly was

"you make the symptoms worse obviously! did I need to- ngh~ s-spell that out for you?"

"don't get snippy with me, baby boy. I'm only trying to help you out"

- his breath hitched at your words and you noticed his hands grip the carpet a bit tighter

- checkmate

"is there anything I can do to ease the pain, my love?"

- your voice was sickly sweet as you started making your way over to him

- he swallowed thickly, finally looking at you fully since you had walked into the room

"please touch me"

- you reached down and began to gently stroke his hair

- his tail unwound itself from where it was previously, tracing over your calves and upper thighs and coiling around your leg

"where do you want mistress to touch you baby?"

"everywhere... p-please- its so hot mistress"

"awww does my little slut need someone to take care of him?"

- he whined in response, leaning in harder to your hands in his hair

- you then grabbed a fistful and tugged slightly, relishing in the primal groan that came out of your extra sensitive boy

"what if mistress plays with your horns, hm?"

- your boyfriend jerked forward, bracing himself on your thighs

- he was losing control over his demon form, normally short and clean nails blackening and turning into claws the more you teased him

"I cant- ah- i need you to touch me more please"

- you groped his horns more roughly and he let out a wanton moan

- that shot straight to your core

"get up and lie back on the bed. mistress is going to take good care of you"

- he practically teleported onto his bed at your command

- his cock strained in his briefs, looking as though it could rip right through

- did he get bigger?

- can dicks do that?

"what do you want me to do to you"

- you smiled at him, taking your top off and gesturing for him to do the same

- he only moaned and squirmed in response

"use your words, baby boy. don't keep mistress waiting"

"I want- i want you to use your mouth on me! please mistress"

- mouth it is

- you stalked over to the bed, practically crawling to him

- teasing his upper thighs and the apex of his hips

- he shivered at your touch but stayed where you had directed him to be, making no moves to touch or grab at you

- what a good boy

- you pulled his briefs down and watched as his cock sprang free with an abnormal amount of force

- the faint smack of his dick on his stomach made your mouth water

- it was such a pretty shade of dark red at the tip too, practically oozing precum like a leaky faucet

- you grabbed his dick in your hand, spitting on your tight fist to lube it up a little and swiping your thumb over his slit

- his loud gasp almost reverberated off the walls of the room

- he quickly gripped at the sheets below to steady himself as you worked his cock up and down

"how does this feel?"

"g-good. so good"

- keeping eye contact with him, you licked a long stripe up the underside of his shaft

- he hissed as you continued your ministrations, taking all of him in your mouth and using your tongue to tease his head

- the sounds he was making above you were heavenly, incoherent babbles about how much he loved you and how sensitive he was

"your mouth is so hot and wet mistress- ah! i-it feels so-OH"

- you grabbed his balls gently but without warning, softly kneading them in your free hand

- you continue to suck on him, increasing the pressure as he got louder and louder

- he was almost trashing now, fighting himself to keep from kicking you off but still letting himself react to his pleasure in all its glory

"do you want to cum now baby?"

"i- cant- i c- i cant hold it, mistress!"

"you don't have to hold it, baby boy. let go"

- you let him out of your mouth last minute and jerked him harshly, making him yelp and cum all over his chest and stomach

- he was heaving as he came down from his high, starting to feel a bit cooler and less needy

- unfortunately, he should have been paying more attention to you

- you quickly moved up the expanse of his body, straddling him to hover over where your hips met

"wait- what are you- ah hnghh"

- you sank down onto his cock, relishing in the slight sting of the stretch from this position

- it definitely got bigger

- your boyfriend was practically drooling now, hypersensitive from his heat and his first orgasm

- he keened and moaned as you teased him everywhere, gripping your hips to steady himself

- pinching and twisting his nipples

"n-not to ha-AH-rdd"

- kissing his neck and marking him on his upper chest

"hnghhh mistress please not my ears they're sensitive!"

- and sticking your fingers in his mouth when he got too loud

"hmgphhh~ aaaaaaah"

- that one was his favorite

- you felt your own orgasm building as he grabbed you all over, groping your ass and chest

"did i say you could touch?"

- he whined as you moved his hands back to your hips

"no mistress but i-"

- you reached out to slide your hand loosely around his neck

- he shut up immediately, lust pooling in his eyes

"choke me"

- you obliged the man, squeezing the side of his neck and watching him sputter out some kind of thanks

- his eyelids drooped as you held the pressure and he looked utterly fucked out

- so pretty for his mistress

-you felt yourself getting close and released him, changing the position at which you were riding him

- using his stomach for balance you bounced harder on him the slight change allowed for him to hit you just right

"I'm gonna cum, baby"

- you cried out as your orgasm shot through you

- your boyfriends grip on your hips tightened as you clenched around him, riding out your high with little regard for how he was keeping up with you

"s-slow do-own~! I'm gonna cum again mistress"

"be a good boy and come again for mistress. let her milk you dry"

- leaning down close to his face you licked up one of his horns and slammed down on him, clenching yourself all the way

- with a gasp and a loud cry he came, almost levitating off the bed

- you felt his hot spurts of cum inside you, filling you up and seeping out around the sides of your pussy

- you collapsed on top of him letting him hold you to his chest

- the two of you were a puddle of sweat, cum and fatigue as you caught your breath

"how are you feeling now?"

"a lot better"

- you noticed the room felt significantly cooler as you curled up together

"how long does this thing last?"

"we've got another week"

- he chuckled as your eyes widened

- a whole week???

- you would worry about it later

- you felt yourself nodding off as you rubbed your face deeper into his chest

"don't worry baby boy, i'll take good care of you"

- the demon had been satisfied

- for now

[blossom-hwa]

Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS. 

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones. 

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

i.

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

v.

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight. 

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

[letsfluxshitup]

we're like a family of divorce (ao3)

Techno dragged up the metal tub from his basement, setting it in front of the fire. He filled it with warm water, setting out clean warm pajamas and a towel on a chair. He laid out all the fancy soaps he had, gifts from when he first arrived.

He saved the shampoo and conditioner, setting them aside for later.

Tommy entered the house, loud and abrasive and a lot.

"What's up, Big Man?" He shouted, tugging at Techno's loose braid, poking at his tusks, forcing Techno to witness him.

He was always so high energy, demanding attention, positive or not. Techno didn't understand it but it made Tommy happy to be the center of attention, something Techno more frequently than not shied away from.

He blinked back into the present, gesturing vaguely at the tub.

"You stink." He deadpanned, and it wasn't necessarily true, but the kid needed to sit down for a second. 

He'd been high energy since he arrived, and seemed perfectly fine. But Techno knew Tommy, knew his quirks and his tells. Saw the dead look in his eyes, the way he flinched away, his fear and sadness.

Techno didn't know what happened, but he knew something did, and he needed to protect him and care for him.

So he guided Tommy towards the tub, nitpicked at him about his hair, and disappeared upstairs. 

--

"Do you need a haircut?" He called from where he was sitting in his rocking chair, glancing through a book Philza had handed him when they last met. 

It was a potions guide, and he was quietly happy that Philza had taken the time to carefully draw out visuals and diagrams, tucked into the book at relevant intervals.

He glanced towards the stairs, catching the tail end of a mumbled response.

"What?" He called, looking at the stairs so he wouldn't get distracted again.

"Are you gonna cut it?" Tommy shouted back, punctuated by a splash. Techno flinched, there was no way the kid wasn't making a mess down there.

"No." He responded, looking back towards the book. 

Quackity could cut short hair, he knew. They weren't exactly on talking terms but surely he'd set that aside to help out Tommy?

Maybe? Probably? 

It's not like Techno couldn't just make him cut Tommy's hair, but threatening him was probably not the best fix for their already rocky relationship.

"Then why'd you ask?" Tommy shouted again, "And where's the shampoo?" 

"I have the shampoo," Techno said, eyeing the bottle where it sat across from him, "and Quackity can cut your hair." 

"Quackity? Isn't he trying to kill you?" Tommy's voice sounded muffled, sloshing denoting him getting out of the tub and Techno cringed again thinking about his floor.

He wasn't sure what to say to that, actually. 

"Are you… Ok with Quackity coming by?" He asked instead, maybe it wasn't the best idea to invite someone with so much... Violent intent into his home with the kid. 

"Big Q's great! I mean, he tried to kill you and stuff but I'm not, like, scared of him. As long as you're ok, y'know?" Tommy fumbled up the stairs, hair still dripping and fluffy pajamas noticeably damp. 

Techno didn't comment on it.

"You don't have to worry about me, Tommy," he said lightly, hoping his tone conveyed comfort. 

Tommy really shouldn't have to worry about his brother's potential murderers, he was just a kid and Quackity wouldn't try to start anything if he was around.

"Anyways, I'll message Quackity, see what he says, alright?" Techno pulled out his communicator, picking at the layers of stickers on it. Tommy had helpfully redecorated it after his previous one had gotten destroyed in his execution.

Attempted execution, that is.

It didn't take much to convince Quackity to come over. It didn't take anything, actually.

Quackity? Techno typed, and almost instantly got a reply.

no

Tommy needs a haircut

fuck off

You remember how to get here?

yes

--

"Well? Where's Tommy?" Quackity huffed, shivering as he rubbed his arms. He should have worn a heavier coat but he didn't have any because he didn't live in the middle of the fucking Arctic.

"Big Q!" Tommy shouted as if on cue, barreling down the stairs at full speed. Quackity's wings flared out to steady him as he caught Tommy, squeezing him tightly.

He didn't say anything about Tommy's clinginess, chalking it up to the exile and the only other source of comfort around being Technoblade.

Fucker probably didn't even hug Tommy.

He was almost instantly proven wrong when Techno cleared his throat slightly, the hug lasting a second too long, and Tommy disappeared from his arms and tucked himself under Techno's.

He firmly reminded himself it was stupid to be jealous of Techno's little brother, but also he was really fucking cold and he knew Techno was really fucking warm.

"So!" He hoisted his bag, "You need a haircut?"

--

It took some finagling but he finally got Tommy to sit in front of the sink properly, and went to work on washing his post haircut hair.

The water was a soothing backdrop as Quackity lathered shampoo into his hair, absently asking Techno for a hairbrush.

Tommy was quietly amazed at how easily Quackity bossed Techno around, his brother instantly responding to any command.

He'd successfully bullied Techno into handing over one of his capes, at Quackity's insistence that it was fucking cold. Techno was now tending to the fire at Quackity's request, and it seemed almost natural.

He knew Techno was more than happy to help the people he cared about, but he'd never really considered that Techno cared about Quackity.

"Are you and Quackity broken up or something?" Tommy blurted out without thinking, interrupting Quackity's soft chirping.

Quackity made a choking noise before accidentally dumping water on Tommy's face, sending him into a fit of painful coughing as it went up his nose.

"Sorry, Toms," Quackity cooed, carefully running his fingers through Tommy's wet hair.

"Is fixing people's hair like a bird thing or some shit?" Tommy asked, leaning into Quackity's hands, "Philza does the same thing and he's like a bird." 

"Yeah, kind of. I think so." Quackity stuttered slightly, straightening Tommy's pajama shirt and dabbing away the spilled water on his face with a towel.

Tommy's face scrunched up in concentration for a second, before he let out something that sounded pretty close to a happy coo.

Quackity cooed too, and they cooed back and forth. Techno couldn't help his pleased snort, happy they were getting along and safe and content.

Tommy's head snapped towards him, instantly reciprocating the snort, and while still unnatural for him he managed to replicate it a lot better than the coo.

Techno watched, vaguely amused, as Tommy nudged his head against Quackity's chest. Growing up around hybrids gave him a weird mix of behaviors, but Quackity was quick to catch on, and he lightly nudged Tommy back.

--

As Techno set up for dinner Quackity and Tommy sat at the table, heckling him and generally being a nuisance.

"You're burning the fucking bread!" Tommy shouted, far too loud in the small space, but his energy seemed slightly more subdued. Less manic, more... Genuine.

Techno rolled his eyes, tugging open the oven door.

"No, see, look it's fine." He squinted at the bread. It did look a little too brown around the edges but he definitely wouldn't tell Tommy that.

Instead, he reached into the oven and grabbed the bread pan with his bare hands, smirking slightly at twin panicked shrieks from behind him.

"Techno what the fuck! You're going to burn your fucking hands, dumbass!" Quackity appeared in front of him, snatching his hands to check the damages after Techno set the pan down.

Quackity blinked at his unharmed hand in confusion, wings settling from where they'd flared in his panic.

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" Techno deadpanned, prompting Quackity to look up. 

They were nearly nose to nose and Quackity was staring directly into his eyes. He shifted slightly, uncomfortable, but didn't look away.

"Are you two going to kiss?" 

Trust Tommy to ruin the peace, Techno thought as Quackity shrieked.

"No we're not going to fucking kiss!" 

--

Quackity was leaning against the arm of the couch, Techno sat on the other side, Tommy flopped across the two of them, trapping them.

"So, you're in exile, right, Techno?" Tommy said, lifting his head slightly from Quackity's lap.

"Yes," Techno sighed, shifting slightly under Tommy's bony legs.

"Huh." Tommy said, before saying more quietly, "I like exile with you a lot more than when I was with Dream." 

Techno tried not to let his expression shift, he'd picked up bits and pieces of his exile but nothing concrete. He still didn't know what happened.

"Oh?" Techno said, voice carefully even.

"Yeah." Tommy responded, tilting his head away from Quackity to stare at the fire. "He- I- he wasn't as nice as you are, y'know?"

Techno didn't, didn't think he'd been doing a good job of taking care of him, but he nodded anyways.

"He..." Tommy sniffled suddenly, furiously scrubbing at his eyes.

Quackity quietly ran his fingers through Tommy's hair, a comforting croon soft in the air.

"He was a real dick, y'know?" Tommy said, desperately high energy, like he could forcibly will away his bad feelings. His voice gave him away, though, thick with tears.

"Tommy?" Techno said, voice soft, "what happened in exile?"

And Tommy broke.

He flung himself into Techno's arms, burying himself in his arms, as he babbled about what had happened, incoherent and a mess.

Quackity tucked himself against Techno's side, curling his arm around Tommy's back and stretching a wing out to cover them both. He pressed himself close, face carefully neutral, but Techno noticed. 

Noticed the twitch of his eye, the tension in his shoulders, how he barely held back a snarl.

Finally, Tommy cried himself out, face tucked into Techno's neck as he fell asleep. Techno carefully scooped him up, Quackity a step behind him as he walked up the stairs and laid Tommy in the bed. 

He tossed Quackity a pair of pajamas, and before he could turn away to change into his own Quackity grabbed his arm.

There was a long moment of silence as they stared at each other, dying fire throwing Quackity's features into sharp relief, fury evident.

"You'll help me take down Dream?" Quackity said finally, leaning closer. 

"I owe him," Techno warned, voice soft as he studied Quackity's face. 

Quackity blinked, then leaned ever closer, noses touching this time.

"When it comes down to it, no matter what Dream says or asks for, you'll be on my side? On Tommy's?" 

Techno sighed, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

"When you put it that way, how can I say no," he deadpanned, arms coming up to wrap around Quackity's waist, comforting and solid.

Quackity snorted, holding up a pinky.

"Pinky promise?" He murmured, and Techno linked pinkies with him, foreheads pressed together, swaying slightly in place.

"Are you two actually going to kiss now?" Tommy whispered loudly, voice slurred with sleep.

Quackity jerked away, startled, as Techno snorted loudly.

Tension dispersed Techno quickly got ready for bed, putting out the fire and flopping onto the side closest to the stairs. Quackity was forced against the wall, Tommy sandwiched between them. 

Techno fell asleep with Tommy's head tucked into his neck, his arm thrown across Techno and his gangly legs sprawled across Quackity. 

[imnotasuperhero]

I would lie and say you’re not in my mind.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Type: Angst.

Summary: Reader finds herself alone, with no explanation as to where Wanda went. And life without her was a true nightmare she could only scape with not-so-nice coping mechanisms.

Wordcount: 2644

Warnings: Drug abuse, one suicidal thought and depression.

A/N: This is my submission for @jbbarnesnnoble writing challenge! I’m so sorry for the delay. Life and work got in the middle, leaving me drained to get some actual writing done. You can search this and other works with the tag #JBBNNMHAMChallenge which deals with different types of mental healt, as to raise awarenes about it.

A/N 2: Since it’s inspired in real events, I decided to twist this and give it a happy ending. People need to know there is hope. No matter how hard life becomes, you’ve got this and you shouldn’t suffer alone. Fight your fear and seek for help. I promise, life is worth living.

A huge than you to @marvelfansince08love for enduring her patience with my rants and mini meltdown about this monster. I could never thank you enough for puting up with my dumb ass, boo. I owe you a lot! <3

If you guys want more, I might have a plot for some kind of spin-off for this story. Just let me know. Also, criticism is welcomed.

"Miss Stark," one of the executives called your attention. "Your nose is bleeding."

Automatically, your fingers found your nose and yup, it was happening. Fucking hell.

Excusing yourself, you left the conference room with rapid steps to the closest bathroom, dismissing whoever you crossed on your way. You weren't new to this, after all.

Once you got the bleeding under control, you inspected yourself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was nothing like your old self. The circles under the eyes needed much more concealing and your smiles were forced. But at least you picked a black blouse today, which it'll do until you got a chance to go back home and change.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Julia asked sheepishly.

"No. I'm capable of handling the rest of the day," you mumbled as you finished the last touches to your make-up.

"Mr. Stark could find-"

"Mr. Stark will find out shit," you cut your assistant. "This is just a sneeze that caused a vein to pop. Understood?" You could see how the woman in front of you shivered slightly and you almost laugh at it. You've become so pity.

"Y-yes, Miss. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No." You inspected yourself in the mirror once again before walking out. "Go over the rest of my day and make sure you send the informs to Stewart."

Fortunately, the day progressed smoothly with very few bumps. And none of them were about you, so you took it as a victory.

Kicking your high heels after closing the door behind you, you started to strip while walking towards the bathroom. The weekend was finally here, which meant you could wind out and enjoy your own company. After the latest events on Beto's, you made sure to lay low for a while. You didn't need another clingy bitch hanging from you all the time. You were just a gal wanting to have some release. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the middle of your calming bath, the sharp razor you kept for emergencies caught your eyes. 'God, it'd be so easy.' You thought to yourself. Just a little line in the right place would do it. The consuming pain would disappear and you'd be free. Hell, maybe you'd find her again in the afterlife.

Before you could continue the line of thoughts, your phone rang with your dad's personalized ringtone. Something you made sure of for when you were doing not-so-nice activities.

"Hey, dad." You absentmindedly sank deeper in the tub. The bubbly water covering up to under your jaw.

"Hi, Peanut." Tony's voice soothed your damaged soul the littlest bit. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine," you answered nonchalantly. Lying has become second nature by now. "Living the life. How are you guys?"

"That's what I called you about. Pepper and I want you to come to spend the weekend here. We barely see you outside work so we thought it'd be nice to take advantage of the long weekend. Pleeeeaaase? With a cherry on top?" He finished in a child's voice and you felt your heart squeeze itself.

Truth was, you were tired of lying all the time. You were tired of faking and saying you were okay when you weren't.

"Okay," you sighed. 

"Yay!" Yup, he was a child. "We'll get your room ready. We'll have your favorite."

You didn't know the exact moment you started crying, your dad going a mile a minute talking about his latest invention and how he'd love for you to help him figure out the last touches.

Hanging up, you finally let out the awaiting sobs. Memories of an easier -and happier- time plaguing your mind, making it harder and harder to breathe. Life without her sucked balls.

After drying yourself and throwing on a fresh pair of pajamas, you quickly fixed your bag for the weekend, knowing fully well you'll wake up with just the right spare time before you had to leave for your dad's.

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm went off, which would be fine if it weren't for Wanda appearing in your dreams. Promises of a better life and reaching milestones together, fanning the painful fire in your heart.

Walking to your stash, you retrieved the white powder, forming three consecutive lines on your nightstand. A small straw between your fingers ready to be used. You wouldn't be able to consume when you were at your dad's, so you better took your chance before it was too late. Odin knew you needed the boost.

Stopping at a random café a few blocks from your home, you quickly got yourself a black coffee and a muffin before hitting the pedal once again, changing the playlist to something more upbeat. 

Soon enough, your mind drifted to the impromptu road trips you'd do with Wanda. Sometimes even a week-long trip. Just the two of you apart from the chaos of your lives. 

Out on the road, it was only laughs, music, and fast food with the occasional make-out sessions. God, if you could, you'd live in the past forever. 

Stepping out of your car, you couldn't help the smile that broke your face. Working in the same place as your dad didn't mean you've got to see him every day. And being honest, you were happy he offered you scape from her curse.

"Hi, dad." You answered once you reached him, returning his hug. And boy, didn't you felt safe in those strong arms. They never failed to soothe you.

After what seemed like hours of walking around your dad's property, you and Pepper came back to the house ready for a refreshing iced tea. But any trace of a nice calming bath dissipated away when you say your dad standing in the middle of the living room, his face stoic.

"What's this?" The quietness of his voice freezing your blood.

"I'm waiting, Y/N." 

You cringed at your dad's voice. The disappointment showing in his eyes made you regret not checking before you grabbed a random bag for this trip.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is not what I think it is," he begged, showing you and Pepper the almost empty baggy between his fingers. And you ignored him. He already knew the truth, after all. "Say it," he growled.

"So the bleeding nose-"

"Screw you," you muttered, cutting Pepper mid-sentence.

"Hey! That's no way to talk to her,"

"You know what?" You walked to your dad, looking up to his eyes. "Yes, I'm an addict. Good job, Sherlock. Now you can get rid of me as you did with my mom. After all, you never wanted me in the first place, so why should it matter." You snapped with burning tears in your eyes. "There's no need to keep faking it anymore." You walked away, leaving them mouth agape, trying to process your words.

Plopping down on your bed, you couldn't help the feeling of failure igniting inside you. The tears in your eyes burning your eyes as they appeared, flowing down your cheeks as the sadness and emptiness became just too much to handle.

You didn't remember when was the last time you were genuinely happy. And it sucked that it depended on someone. It sucked and you despised it more than anything. But then again, Wanda was everything you'd need to live in this world. Always positive, with a smile so bright that could light up the darkest room. Her eyes? God, you loved losing yourself in those green orbs of hers in the afterglow. And now you had to live without all these little things that made you happy. All the little moments of joy were gone, tuning you into this sack of bones and flesh, with no expectations for life.

It wasn't till much later that night that you left your room, after ignoring your dad's callings.

Padding your way to the bar, you served yourself a whiskey. The burning on your troat a welcomed feeling. Your mind going back to her, as it was the normalcy since she dusted away, leaving you with thousands of questions and a hole in your heart that you knew well you could never fill again. How could you, when you knew she was it? how could you even try to patch it up, when you knew there was no one else like her?

One whiskey turned into 5 and you didn't know when you started to cry, considering you thought there were no tears left after all these years. But the strong hand on your shoulder made you snap from your pity party, hurriedly drying your tears. Crying was for the weak, and boy were you weak.

"I'm sorry," you drowned the last of your drink before looking up, mustering the best stoic face you could.

"You don't need to fake around me, Peanut. We're family," your dad poured you another drink as he got one himself. 

"Look, what happened with your mother has nothing to do with you." He continued once he sat beside you. "And I would never leave you alone, Y/N. No matter how many headaches you give me." He joked but composed himself when you didn't react to it. "I- Pepper is pregnant. And we really want you in the baby's life. But.. Look, if there was a way to bring her back, I would. In a heartbeat. But Y/N, you have to understand, she wouldn't like this version of you. If not for yourself, do it for us,"

You wanted to speak, you wanted to answer him. But the lump in your throat was too big to swallow and the knife in your heart twisted when you saw your dad's eyes tearing up. And fuck did it hurt. To see him cry -for the first time- pained you like hell. And knowing you were the cause of those tears made you feel like you were the worst person alive. 

"I-," you paused to gather your bearings, but your dad beat you to it.

"I know, Peanut," his arms surrounded you in that way that only him could.

"I promise you," he continued once you broke away. "One day, it will get easier. Those feelings will never fully go away, but it will get easier." He dried your tear-stained cheeks softly. "You are not alone. And she'll always be with you,"

 And despite the grief eating you from the inside, you knew you had to live. For them. For her.

The next few months had been a true rollercoaster. You didn't know the abstinence would affect you so badly. And while others would have it much worse, you couldn't help the change of moods and the few tears you caused to those around you. Not to mention, the significant drop in your moods. But you also knew better. You've kept your word, and you hadn't touched it again. 

Under Natasha's supervision, you got rid of every secret stash you had at both, your apartment and your office, and you deleted the number of your dealer. And even if sometimes it seemed like hell would manifest itself as Nat was your watcher, you couldn't be more glad because, admittedly, the woman had balls and she did knew how to bribe you, to the point that you'd even quit drinking even if it was more of a social addiction, in your case. That, mixed with Natasha's friendship and support -as well as those around you- and the birth of Morgan, your little sister had you believing once more, even if you knew you'd never get to be the same person you once were. 

The little bundle of joy had come to this world with a few rays of sunshine for you, finally opening your eyes and making you realize that there was hope. Even if you never saw her again, life was worth living and you'd live it for her at your best capacity. 

So when Pepper asked you to babysit Morgan for a few days, considering she couldn't bring a 2 months old baby with her, you accepted in a heartbeat.

But as you were awoken by a fussing Morgan, after an eventful night in which you barely slept, you realized this might've not been your brightest idea.

Inhaling deeply, you got up and walked to her room, picking her up from her crib and rocking her as you made your way to the kitchen. Babies were a fucking clock. Which only served to add to your decision of never having kids. 

If you were on the verge of tears most of the time, wishing deeply for her parents to come back so you could have time for yourself, you knew you'd be mental if you had to live through this for the rest of your life.

Your ears catching the front door opening made you stop mid singing, turning around as you walked to the hushed words as you feed a calmed down Morgan just to stop dead in your tracks when you saw her. The only reason you stood still, was the baby in your arms. 

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a sign that this was just a dream. That the image of your girlfriend was just a projection of your mind, like so many other times before during these 5 years since she disappeared from your arms. But the silence surrounding you all and 8 pairs of eyes inspecting you made you realize that this wasn't a dream.

The cries of Morgan took you all from your reverie and soon, Pepper was by your side, taking the baby from your arms before kissing the top of your head, something she always did whenever you felt unsettled.

"Peanut-"

"Is she real?" You questioned as you scrutinized a fidgety Wanda, who stood by the door, ready to run away if needed.

Natasha could sense your turmoil growing with every single second that passed and soon enough you felt a strong pair of arms supporting you, ready to catch you if you fell.

"She's here, Maliska. We brought her back," she spoke quietly, making sure you understood her words.

The wild thoughts on your mind got you walking towards her. The need to touch her and prove yourself that she was back, got your fingers itching. You could feel the blood running in your ears and you shaking steps as you got closer to who you thought was gone forever, leaving you empty and moving through life like a zombie.

The choke that broke through you when your hand cupped her cheek got you smiling as tears rolled down with every erratic thump of your heart.

"You're here," you whispered, afraid of breaking the spell you've found yourself into. 

But you couldn't stay in that thought for long because an intimately familiar pair of arms surrounded you as Wanda threw yourself at you, hiding her face on the crook of your neck.

Feeling her hot breath against your skin was all you needed to finally give in and hold her with all you had, knowing that she was here; with you.

You didn't know how long you both stood there, holding each other and basking in the calmness that surrounded you. All your previous tormenting thoughts dissipated in that exact moment. Wanda was back and you found the hole in your heart start to fill itself.

"Hi, Printsessa," Wanda murmured against your neck, kissing her way up to your jaw, peppering your face with kisses before she finally kissed your lips. And boy, did your knees trembled.

After 5 long years, the lips you've got used to kissing whenever you pleased were once against yours, igniting all the love and hope and good things you got to feel once upon a time.

You can find the continuation, here (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @jumbojamba47 @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova

[kikis-writing-world]

Whiskey Straight - The Briefcase (Prologue)

Jack Daniels x F!Reader

You don’t know when it happened, but your life had grown dull. Your husband, Jack Daniels, was often busy with work: as a high ranking executive at Statesman Distillery, he needed to put in long hours at the office and travel across the globe to represent the business. Your own boring office job and empty house had you yearning for something. When a strange man barges into your life claiming to be a spy, you’re thrust into the world of secret agents and international terrorism… a world you soon learn your husband is very familiar with as Special Agent Whiskey.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Bit of a slow start, but every story has to start somewhere. This part hurt to write. Establishing a less than stellar relationship with Jack? No thanks. but it’s all for the service of the story. Plus like... that’s life. That’s marriage, right? Things get stale, shit happens.

Series Masterlist  -  Prologue  -  One  -  Two  -  Three  -  Four  -  Five  -  Six  -  Seven

gif not mine. Lost the source, sorry! If it’s yours, let me know.

You were pushing your food around your plate absentmindedly, trying not to listen to Jack’s phone call in the other room. It was an absolute pet peeve of yours when he took calls during dinner but you knew your husband was an important man. Running the entire North East division of Statesman Distilleries came with more responsibilities than you could even list off. On top of managing the actual business, there were appearances to be made, meetings and expos to attend, schmoozing to be done. He didn’t just work 9 to 5, he worked all the time.

Even without listening, you knew that your weekend plans were likely about to be cancelled. Before the phone rang, you had been excitedly sharing ideas about things to do this weekend. The two of you were going to leave the city behind for some much needed alone time. No phones, no work, just the two of you reconnecting. It was planned spontaneity. You had planned the time, but nothing else. No rooms were booked, no route planned. The two of you were going to hit the road and have an adventure. When the two of you had started dating your relationship was full of adventures, planned and otherwise. Taking off to Niagara Falls for a weekend. A full day of driving just to see the changing autumn leaves. Lately he’d been too busy with work for anything like that.

You heard the conversation winding down, Jack bidding farewell to the person on the line before the phone was hung-up. You took a bit of the food in front of you, ignoring how it had grown cold while he was out of the room.

Jack’s hand grazed along your shoulders as he passed you before lowering himself into his seat with a sigh. You knew that sigh. After 6 years of marriage, you were able to read Jack like an open book. That was the sigh he made when he was about to break some bad news. You had a feeling you knew what the bad news would be, but you played along regardless.

“What was that?” You asked as he picked up his cutlery.

“Ambrose. You remember Ambrose from the Kentucky office, right?” Jack asked, cutting into his steak like the piece of meat hadn’t just sat there forgotten for the past minutes.

You nodded, taking a sip of water. You had met the man a few times, most notably at your wedding. If you hadn’t been properly introduced, you might have thought Ambrose was an older uncle of Jack’s. The charming older man reminded you a lot of Jack and you remember thinking that Ambrose was probably a decent representation of what your new husband might be like as he aged. Despite the years that Ambrose had over Jack, the older man still had a mischievous sparkle present in his eye. The sparkle was never more present when his patented lopsided grin came out.

“Of course. Is everything okay?”

“There’s a big to-do happenin’ in Georgia this weekend and their rep got sick. Food poisonin’ or something. He was askin’ if I could come down to replace him.”

You didn’t have to ask if he had agreed to go. That damned sigh had already given him away. You took another sip of your water, pushing back the sting of dejection. He hadn’t even asked you if you minded cancelling your plans. You wondered if he’d even put up any fight on the phone or if he’d asked if there was anyone else available to take over instead. You tried not to take it personally. Of course they wanted Jack there.

“When are you leaving?”

He was silent for a moment as he chewed his food, his Southern manners barring him from talking with a mouth full of food. “Tomorrow mornin’. Gotta meet with the team to get up to speed before meetin’ with any investors.”

You nodded, staring down at your half-eaten plate that no longer held your interest. “I’ll pack your bag for you tonight before bed.”

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’. I can pack my own bag.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrugged. That was true. You wished you didn’t have to do it quite so often, but packing for him made you feel more connected to him while he was gone. It also felt like you were helping him juggle the responsibilities of his job, taking something off his already over-full plate.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He dropped his knife so he could take your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, don’t you forget it.” You teased.

“Never.” He winked, sliding his hand back so he could finish his meal.

That wink used to make your heart flutter. The first time he’d ever winked at you, it sent your stomach in knots for days afterwards whenever you thought about it. Lately, it barely stirred anything within you. You hated that your marriage had become this. You still loved the man to pieces, but the spark of your relationship had faded. The excitement of your relationship was long gone. This weekend was supposed to be an attempt to rekindle a bit of the excitement. Now though, you were thankful that you weren’t going to have to spend time on the phone trying to get any deposits back.

You packed his bag for him that night, making sure his jackets were neatly pressed and hung in their garment bags to stay wrinkle free. You packed a few options for ties, including two of his bolo ties, as well as his jeans and a pair of slacks in case he really wanted to go all out. His toiletries, socks, underwear and his spare pair of glasses. The glasses were added to the packing list after he had broken his while in Switzerland, leaving him with a headache for a week after returning from all the eye-strain.

“Thank you.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he picked up the bag, carrying it to the front door for the morning. Pecks to the cheek, chaste kisses to your lips, a squeeze of your hand. That’s what the marriage had become. Aside from during sex, you couldn’t think of the last time Jack had really kissed you. Swept you off your feet and kissed your breathless as you clung to him, the way he would when you two had first started dating and could barely keep your hands off each other.

You knew the blame didn’t sit solely on his shoulders. You weren’t sure what was stopping you from grabbing him and kissing him senseless instead of waiting for him to initiate. Maybe the fear of being rejected. The fear that this was more than a rough patch bred from familiarity, and that it meant something worse had taken root in your relationship.

“Do you want me to drive you to the airport in the morning?” You offered when he returned to the bedroom, the two of you getting ready for bed.

“Colt is pickin’ me up.” He told you as he shucked his clothes from the day.

Colt was Jack’s business partner. His second in command. Wherever Jack went, Colt went, so it was not surprising that he would be joining him in Kentucky. The young man was sweet, but definitely wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. You wondered sometimes how he climbed the corporate ladder to where he was now, let alone the possibility that sometime in the future he would take over for Jack - assuming your husband ever retired.

“At least wake me to say goodbye.” You instructed.

“You sure, darlin’? It’ll be early.” He warned.

“I’m sure.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he laid out his clothes for the morning. “And call me when you land.”

“Always do.” He grins at you over his shoulder.

You climbed into bed, curling on your side as you waited for Jack to finish with his own nightly routine. He turned off the light before you felt the bed dip behind you. Silence passed in the darkness for a moment before Jack’s arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you tightly against him.

“I’m sorry ‘bout this weekend, sugar.” He whispered in the darkness. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You felt something akin to relief as he nuzzled into your hair. There were definitely issues the two of you needed to tackle, but the love was still there. You wrapped your arm around his, hugging it to your chest.

“I know.” You whispered back.

“Love you.” He murmured.

“Love you too.”

Jack woke you the next morning, a few moments to cuddle and a groggy kiss goodbye before you fell back asleep. As promised, the call came in a few hours later that he had landed safely in Kentucky. Colt shouted his own greeting, and a promise to keep Jack out of trouble. You chuckled, knowing it was more likely to be Jack keeping Colt out of trouble. Before he hung up, Jack promised to keep in touch if he could, but he would be busy most of the weekend. You were used to that.

He did try to call when he was gone, you knew that, but often he just couldn’t make it to a phone. When he wasn’t in formal meetings, he still had to make appearances and schmooze. The moments he wasn’t working, he was preparing for whatever was to come next or getting some much needed rest. It was the song and dance of business.

You knew he was busy but it reinforced the loneliness that had creeped into your marriage, so slowly it wasn’t noticeable until it felt like it was drowning you. The house was quiet all weekend and by Sunday it was driving you crazy. You grabbed a book and decided to go out for lunch. You hoped being around people, the sounds of chattering, of cutlery and dinnerware around you would ease the loneliness from your mind, not make it worse.

You ordered before opening up your book, letting the noises of the other diners fade into the background as you let yourself become immersed in the story of the dashing knight and his attempts to woo the beautiful princess. Jack would tease you for reading romance novels, but with the lack of wooing going on lately in your real life, it was a welcome reprieve.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” An anxious voice right above you startled you out of the book. The man was sitting across from you before you had a chance to answer.

You blinked at him, staring blankly in shock. He had wavy, dirty blond hair that ended just above his chin. He was wearing a light brown suit, the cream coloured button-up underneath had the top few buttons undone, showing his collarbone and chest. His wide, blue eyes were glancing nervously around the restaurant. Your brow quirked in confusion before you too glanced around, looking for whatever he was worried about. When you didn’t see anything, you turned back to him.

“Uh, I’m flattered, but I’m mar-”

He pushed something under the table until it bumped into your leg. You looked down, seeing a black briefcase resting against your leg.

“This is a matter of national security.” He whispered, leaning in over the table to avoid being heard.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed. Was this some kind of pick-up line? You’d been out of the dating game for years but you couldn’t imagine this was working.

“I can’t have them catch me with this.” He nodded downward towards the table. You assumed he meant the briefcase. “I need you to hang onto it for me.”

“What?”

“Shh!” He shushed you, looking around nervously once more. He barely held back a gasp as two men in suits walked past your table. You glanced between him and the men, staying quiet. You were too in shock of what was happening to do much else.

He watched until the men were out of sight before reaching across the table and taking your hand in his own. He gave it a squeeze before letting go, a moment before you were poised to pull it out of his grip.

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” He vowed before standing.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You asked, but he ignored you as he sped towards the exit. You watched in disbelief, mouth agape as he disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared. The briefcase still leaning against your leg was the only evidence that you hadn’t imagined him.

By the time your food came, you weren’t even hungry. Your stomach was in knots as you tried to process what happened. You asked for the food to go, barely having the wherewithal to mumble that something had come up.

You eyed the briefcase under the table as you waited for your doggy bag. What the hell were you supposed to do with it? He told you to keep it and he’d be in touch. Did he even know how to get in touch with you?

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you paid your bill and left with the briefcase.

It made you nervous as it sat in the passenger seat next to you for the drive home. You knew it was ridiculous but you almost felt like it was watching you. The latch was locked so you had no idea what was inside of it. You almost wanted to shake it, like a child trying to figure out what was inside a wrapped present, but had no idea if that would harm anything inside… or if anything inside would in turn harm you.

Your food was dropped on the counter, a complete afterthought as you set the briefcase down on the kitchen table. You crossed your arms, staring at it as you tried to figure out what to do. It felt like you were waiting for it to come alive and give you the answer. Hesitantly, you took it in both hands and gave it a slight shake. If anything, it was like a forceful glide across the tabletop. Nothing made any kind of noticeable noise, but you could feel the heft of it’s contents shifting as it moved.

No, you thought to yourself. You were going to leave it alone.

You marched into the living room, turning the TV on and flipping the channels for something interesting to watch. Being a Sunday afternoon, there wasn’t much to hold your attention and you caught yourself looking back towards the kitchen every few minutes.

One of the movie channels was airing the original Jurassic Park, and you figured it was good enough. You went into the kitchen with the full intention of grabbing the food you had yet to eat for lunch, but that damn briefcase…

You opened the junk drawer, digging through the mess of odds and ends until you found a paperclip. You sat at the table, unwinding the paperclip until it was as straight as you could manage. You pressed the wire into the keyhole of the latch, pushing and prodding. It clicked open after a moment, making you jump. Despite being home alone, you stopped and looked around to make sure you weren't being caught.

You took a deep breath, scooting backwards just in case, and opened the lid. Nothing happened. No alarm, no puff of smoke, no weird security measure of any kind. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but nothing wasn’t it.

The briefcase was filled with various papers. Maps of European countries. Foreign money. Paperwork in a language you didn’t know. A passport, the picture matching the man who had dropped the briefcase with you. John Smith. That was just about the vaguest name you could imagine.

Under all of the paperwork was a gun. You jumped when you saw the shining metal, dropping all the papers back in the briefcase and closing it. Once again, you found yourself looking around to make sure you were alone. You’d never seen a gun in real life, let alone been in possession of one.

You knew you couldn’t keep this in the house. How were you supposed to explain this to Jack? You ran back out to your car, placing it in your trunk under some blankets you kept for emergencies. You closed the trunk and leaned against it, breathing deeply to calm yourself.

Now what?

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @sheerfreesia007​ @and-claudia​ @weirdowithnobeardo​

[flowerfan2]

Ok friends, I’m cracking up sitting here right now, because I just took a quick trip to get bagels, came inside with the bag of bagels in my hand, and then sat down to post today’s chapter before allowing myself the reward of eating breakfast... and this is how the first line of today’s chapter begin:

David comes into the house with a bag of bagels in one hand and a tray of hot beverages in the other...

I got iced coffee instead of hot, but still, I guess it was meant to be!  Hope you enjoy Chapter 15.  @perryavenue​ is going to recognize where I got my inspiration for this one...

David x Patrick, A03, 3k this chapter, 48k so far.  

Chapter 15

David comes into the house with a bag of bagels in one hand and a tray of hot beverages in the other, listening to see if Patrick is awake yet.  He was hoping to surprise him with breakfast in bed.  Unfortunately, sunny Saturday mornings mean long lines at the bagel place, and it all took a lot longer than he had hoped.

David deposits the bagels on the counter, spotting Patrick sitting outside on the lanai.  Drinks in hand, he joins him at the table and leans over to give him a quick kiss.

“Successful trip?” Patrick asks, taking the lid off his tea and inhaling appreciatively.

“Mmm, yes.  I checked several of the bagels on the way home.  The French toast flavor is overrated, but they do an excellent marble rye.”

“Leave any for me?”

“Even I can’t eat a dozen bagels in half an hour.  Three, maybe, although that would still be a mistake.  There are plenty left for you to choose from.”

Patrick grins at him and leans back, putting his bare feet up on David’s lap.  David frowns.

“What, are foot rubs before coffee incorrect?”

David mock-glares at Patrick, even though he loves these silly call-backs to their history together.  “Bare feet outdoors is incorrect.”

“But there’s a swimming pool.”

“The pool is over there,” David waves his hand.  “You are here, sitting at a table, eating breakfast.  Not swimming.”

“Technically I was reading the news on my phone.  Not eating breakfast.”

“Keep antagonizing me and there won’t be any breakfast in your future, either.”

Patrick grins at him, then removes his feet from David’s lap and goes inside to retrieve the bagels, along with plates, cream cheese and lox.  Ordinarily David would insist on toasting his bagel, but these are so fresh and warm that they demand to be eaten immediately.  They busy themselves with their food for a few minutes, David moaning in appreciation, mostly just to watch Patrick react.

“So, I had an idea for what we could do today.”

“Is eating a pile of bagels and then taking a nap not good enough for you?”

Patrick chuckles.  “I was actually thinking of going kayaking.”

David nearly chokes on his food, and Patrick pats his back good-naturedly.  “Kayaking?”  He doesn’t screech, but it is a near thing.  “What about me, exactly, suggests that I would want to go kayaking?”

“Come on, David.  We’ve been sitting around here for weeks.  I did just get the all clear from the doctor.  It’ll be fun.”

David does not think for a minute that it will be fun, as kayaking will undoubtedly involve bugs, unstable vehicles, and the threat of drowning.  But Patrick has been beached, so to speak, ever since his injury, and David knows it has been weighing on him.

“I don’t suppose we could go on a nice, safe hike instead?”

Patrick laughs.  “We can do that another day.  I called a place about a half hour from here, they have two boats available this afternoon.  Just give it a try.  If you hate it, we won’t stay out long.”

Much to his surprise, David does not hate it.

They show up at the launching area in their swim trunks and shirts, David with his long-sleeved swim shirt on, and Patrick with some kind of sports related jersey.  Their guide makes them wear ugly life preservers, which ruin David’s look but do give him a bit of relief when it comes to his drowning concern.  After a short lesson, during which Patrick asks lots of excited questions and David tries valiantly to follow along, they each get into a kayak and are pushed out into the water.

The sun is shining rather enthusiastically, and David is glad that he has sunglasses on – he even made them stop along the way to buy a cheap pair, in case they wind up in the water.  Patrick bought a ridiculous strap that holds his on his head, and he’s got a ball cap on as well, so there’s not much to see of him except his lovely pale arms which David very much enjoyed slathering in sunscreen.

David pulls his attention away from Patrick and focuses on stroking his paddle through the water, trying to put the guide’s instructions into action.  Patrick stays near him, offering quiet corrections, and soon they both fall into a comfortable rhythm.

David knows that he’s in better shape now than he’s been in for most of his life.  Although running doesn’t do much for his upper body, at least he’s got stamina.  He tries to relax and enjoy it.  If he paddles just right, the kayak cuts through the water without very much effort on his part.  It’s kind of neat.  Soothing, even, almost like the way it feels when he gets into a groove on a run.

They aren’t out on the Gulf, as ocean kayaking is far beyond their skill level.  Instead, they are making their way down an inlet of some kind, a broad waterway with docks and houses on both sides.  Soon they are out in the bay, and Patrick directs them past a piling with an egret’s nest on top, over to a bristly bunch of trees at the water’s edge.

“These are mangroves,” Patrick says, indicating the dense tangle of scrubby looking trees with visible roots.  “They’ve adapted to living in salt water, extracting the fresh water they need.  Some of them push the salt out onto their leaves.  The leaves even taste salty.”

David doesn’t ask how Patrick knows this.  He’d just wind up watching him lick a leaf.

They paddle closer, and David can see into the clusters of plants, the roots and branches weaving together.

“Want to go through?”

David has no idea what Patrick is talking about, but he follows him as he kayaks around the edge of a cluster.  There’s an overhang, and what looks like a tunnel into the middle of the clump of mangroves.

“Are you serious?”  David asks under his breath, but Patrick is already nearing the entrance.

“Go slow,” Patrick says over his shoulder.  “Try not to point into them, and if you do get stuck, just grab on carefully and lever yourself off.  Remember not to overbalance.”

It’s a recipe for disaster, but David gently eases himself into the tunnel.  It’s cooler and dim inside, with branches and green leaves all around him.  It smells like low tide, musty and brackish.  The nose of his kayak gets hung up briefly as he turns too hard in one direction and for a brief moment it lists dangerously sideways, but he takes a breath and then uses his paddle to back up a bit and set himself on a straighter path.

He catches Patrick looking back at him, having executed some kind of fancy twisting maneuver so that he can see David.  “Nice paddling, David.”

They rest for a minute there, Patrick showing David how to move his paddle to make his kayak go sideways (“it’s like a figure eight”) with limited success.  Then Patrick spends some time pointing out to David the difference between the red, white, and black mangroves, which doesn’t make any sense because they are all clearly green.

David doesn’t argue with him.  It’s far too nice here, hidden among the curving branches with Patrick who is so clearly, uncomplicatedly happy.  David will wear an ugly life jacket and take his chances with the alligators anytime if it makes Patrick smile.

After they extract themselves from the mangroves, Patrick makes them paddle into the wind in order to reach a spot where they can pull up on to the beach.  It’s less pleasant than drifting in the trees, but it’s worth it when their kayaks land on a sandy shore.  Patrick jumps out of his boat first, pulling the bright orange monstrosity up out of the water, and then returns to help David get out of his without tumbling over, which David very much appreciates.  

They sit down and stretch their legs, Patrick continuing to chatter about the birds they saw on the way over, how he’s never seen so many of the pink ones (roseate spoonbills, they’re called, but Patrick likes to correct David, so he pretends he doesn’t remember), how they’re fortunate to see so many birds of some kind or another this time of year.

After a while David just pulls Patrick against him, and Patrick shuts up, kissing David with the taste of salt on his tongue.  They make out for a while, alone on the shore, their kayaks shifting slightly as the water laps against their sterns.  Patrick lies back on the sand and David hovers close, his elbow braced against the ground as his other hand slides Patrick’s sunglasses off so that he has more skin to kiss.

They can’t go too far, for obvious reasons, but it feels wonderful to kiss and cuddle in the sun.

Finally they sit up, a little shy, and Patrick takes David’s hand in his and squeezes it.

“Thanks for doing this today,” Patrick says, and David’s heart swells.  It’s not such a big deal, participating in an activity just because your partner asked you to.  And it really wasn’t a hardship.

“It’s fun,” he concedes.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come.”  Patrick looks away, out across the water.

David puts a hand on Patrick’s chin and turns his face towards him, until his brown eyes are locked onto his own.  “You asked.”  There’s very little he wouldn’t do for Patrick.  He can’t quite say that out loud, but he doesn’t have to.  He thinks Patrick hears it anyway.  

That night David’s putting away the remains of their take-out (Thai food, purchased on the way back from their kayaking adventure) when Patrick dances over to him and presents him with a package.

“What’s this?  Aside from an already opened and poorly resealed cardboard box?”

“Open it and find out.”

Inside under the blue tissue paper is a menorah, a pretty silver-plated one with a leaf and branch design.  It can’t have been cheap.

“Patrick, you didn’t have to-”

“I always imagined getting you a nice menorah, when we finally had a place together.  I had seen this one online, and when I realized it was Hanukkah, well.  Here it is.”

David just stares at it for a moment, tongue-tied.

“Do you like it?”

He wraps his arms around Patrick and kisses him soundly.  “I love it.”

It’s actually the end of Hanukkah already, so they load up the menorah with the appropriate number of candles and David mumbles what he remembers of the blessings.  It’s a rather lovely moment on top of a particularly lovely day, and David has to take a minute to keep it from overwhelming him.

Patrick notices, of course, and wraps his arms around him from behind, his chin on David’s shoulder, and they breathe together for a while.  When David relaxes Patrick nuzzles his ear.  “Want to go to bed?”

David turns in Patrick’s arms, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the eager look on Patrick’s face.  “Someone’s having a good day.”

Patrick captures David’s lips in a kiss, hot and insistent, and when he pulls back David is breathing hard.  “Tell me you’re not.”

He shakes his head, happiness bubbling out of him.  “Can’t do it.”

They make it back to the bedroom just before clothes start to come off, and soon they are naked and wrapped around each other, hands skimming over heated skin.  Patrick seems to have a plan, he’s wound up and raring to go, and David loves it.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks as Patrick straddles him, holding his head in his hands and nipping along David’s jaw.

“I want you to fuck me,” Patrick says into the shell of David’s ear.  “Open me up like this, and then fuck me.”

A thrum of arousal pulses through David at Patrick’s words.  They’ve had a lot of sex over the past week, but Patrick hasn’t asked for this yet.  

Their initial attempts at penetrative sex hadn’t gone particularly smoothly, back when they first got together.  After a few mishaps they had ignored it for a while, content to turn each other on and get each other off in a variety of easier ways.  David was happy to introduce Patrick to the pleasures of a really excellent blow job, and Patrick was, as always, a quick study, finding that he loved to bring David to the edge and then tease him until he was reduced to a writhing, begging mess.

And David was always quick to reassure Patrick that penetrative sex wasn’t the only way to have sex, that no matter what he thought in the past, they could make each other happy in any way they were comfortable with.

But Patrick was nothing if not determined, and so eventually they made their way back to it, first Patrick tentatively pushing into David, and later, when Patrick was in just the right mood, Patrick asking for David to do the same for him.  

“You don’t have to like it,” David remembers saying to Patrick, one night when Patrick was feeling some combination of bad and nervous and embarrassed about the whole issue.  “It’s okay if you don’t want to do it.  It really is.”

At some point, though, something happened that changed Patrick’s mind.  David’s pretty sure it had to do more with Patrick’s headspace than anything else, his gradual letting go of heteronormativity and becoming more comfortable with his view of himself as queer, but his prostrate probably factored into it as well.  Afterwards Patrick clung to David like an octopus, both of them sweaty and blissed out.

“How do people not do this all the time?” Patrick asked, pressing his face into David’s neck.  “How can it feel so good?  Why didn’t you tell me?”

David had laughed and hugged Patrick tight, too caught up in his fiancé’s astonished joy to wonder how he was going to keep the attention of such an amazing man.  It had been a very good night.

Tonight was shaping up to be even better.

Patrick holds himself over David while David finds the lube, and lets out a low moan when David reaches down and starts to press at his hole.  David takes his time, circling gently, then increasing the pressure, all while Patrick moans and sways above him.

Patrick leans down to kiss him, his mouth open and trailing wetly down David’s jaw, catching on the stubble.  He’s got a hand on David’s chest, and then Patrick shifts so his mouth can continue its journey, finding one of David’s nipples and sucking hard.

“God, Patrick,” David whines, just holding on to Patrick’s hips while Patrick bites at one nipple and then the other, sending sparks of electricity through his body.  “Come here, let me-” David gets his fingers back where he wants them, and then he’s pressing inside, Patrick fucking his fingers.

“Ah – David – oh god, yes, there, oh-” Patrick pushes back against David’s fingers, rocking back and forth, hands grasping at David’s arm and his chest and then valiantly pulling at David’s cock, although his attention is understandably elsewhere.  “Ohhhh, David, now, please, fuck me now.”

“Like this, or…?”

Patrick slides off David’s fingers and stretches out on the bed, pulling David on top of him.  “Like this.  Please. Now.  Come on.”  

David’s helpless to resist, Patrick’s big eyes pleading with him, his hands running up and down David’s arms, grabbing at his ass, squirming underneath him like he can’t wait a moment more.

“Okay, baby, okay.  I’ve got you.”  And he does, lubing himself up with a few quick strokes, and then positioning himself carefully between Patrick’s quivering thighs, one hand bracing himself on the bed as he slides into Patrick’s tight heat.

“David,” Patrick moans, “oh, fuck, yes.”  He’s reaching for David, trying to pull him into a kiss, and it’s messy and breaks David’s rhythm and he doesn’t care, it’s so good, Patrick wanting him like this.  David’s heart is slamming against his chest in time with his thrusts, and Patrick is writhing underneath him.  The slick slide of their bodies feels so good, David doesn’t know how he can hold it all inside.

“Patrick, baby, I love you, I love you,” David pants out, heat pooling inside him, a familiar tightness building.  

“Come on, David, oh god, come on,” Patrick pleads roughly.

David’s hips are moving frantically now, his muscles burning.  He’s shaking, dripping sweat everywhere, and he’s close, he just needs to keep going a little longer, for Patrick, he can do it.  

“David, I’m so close, oh god, you can, David-” Patrick gets a hand on his own cock and pulls, and David feels him, feels him quaking and shivering.

David comes with a rush of sensation, light exploding behind his eyes.  Patrick is almost there too, and David gets a hand on him, both of their hands on Patrick’s cock, twisting together, over and over.  Suddenly Patrick’s back arches and his whole body convulses as he comes, head thrown back in ecstasy, a long whine falling from his open mouth.

David collapses next to Patrick on the bed, turning his head to press his face against Patrick’s shoulder.  Patrick drapes himself over David’s side, arm sliding over his back, nose digging into his collarbone.  They lie there until the aftershocks subside, and then some, not wanting to move.

“Gonna have to change the sheets,” David finally says.

“That’s the first thing you think about, at a time like this?”  Patrick teases, a shaky hand brushing David’s hair out of his face and onto his forehead.

“No, it’s not,” David says.  “But it’s the first thing I can say without blushing, and I don’t have the energy for that.”

“David,” Patrick says, pressing a kiss to David’s lips, then pulling back before David has a chance to enjoy it.  “Are you feeling things tonight?”

David snorts.  “I’m feeling quite a lot.  Seemed like you were, too.”

Patrick starts to hum <i>“Feeling Groovy”</i> and David can tell it’s coming, he can tell before Patrick even gets a whole phrase out, and he slaps a hand over Patrick’s mouth.

“For once could we finish up our lovemaking without a concert?”

Patrick is laughing against David’s hand, and he bites gently at the ball of his thumb.  “Do you really want me to stop?” he asks, his breath warm against David’s skin.

“No,” David confesses, too open to argue even about this, about Patrick’s awful love songs whispered in his ears at highly inappropriate times.  “I don’t want you to stop.  Don’t stop any of it.”

“Deal,” Patrick says, easing David’s hand away from his mouth and wrapping him in his arms.  David settles in, not caring anymore about sticky sheets and sweaty skin.  All of that can wait for tomorrow.  For now, he’s just going to focus on how wonderful it feels to drift off to sleep with the love of his life holding him close.

[hermits-that-craft]

Marionette Roulette - Chapter 4

TW: Abuse, murder, violence, death, blood

ao3 link in the reblogs

Eret looks out over the prison, his eyes set in anger. He saw what Dream did to Tommy. He knows where the teen is. Dream may have the rest of the mourning server wrapped around his fingers, but Eret won’t let himself be puppeteered again. He won’t fall into line.

But he can’t just break in.

He was at the funeral. He was heralding that Tommy was alive during the funeral preparations. Surely, it would feel more complete. Surely, Dream would have brought his body back.

Eret doesn’t know why he didn’t tell everyone that he saw Dream take Tommy into the prison. It could be guilt, from not confronting the man. It could be fear. It could even be that he knows that the server will not allow him to move on from his betrayal - that the server believes his crown is gilded with blood.

But it isn’t that. It’s not as selfish as Eret lets herself believe it to be.

She’s scared for Sam and Puffy.

Sam, who built the prison. Sam, who lost his job after Dream returned. Sam, who is nothing but kind to her. Sam, who ignores Eret’s past crimes. Sam who visits her in her lonely castle. Sam who took Tubbo and Tommy’s deaths as though they were personal failings, as though Sam killed the pair. Puffy, who practically adopted Dream. Puffy, who let Dream stay with her. Puffy, who patched Dream up after fights. Puffy, who wouldn’t let Dream push her away like he had with his other friends. Puffy, who visited Eret over the winter. Puffy, who had Christmas dinner with Eret instead of her girlfriend. Puffy, who writes to Eret as often as possible. Puffy, who took Tommy and Tubbo’s deaths as though Dream had killed her children.

They don’t want to watch two of the kindest people they know die, be punished for what Dream did.

They don’t want their only parental figures to die.

Eret glares at the prison, not noticing someone approaching them. In fact, they didn’t notice the other person until there was a tap on their shoulder. Eret screeches indignantly, panic squeezing their lungs as they spin around.

“Sorry for scaring you.” Fundy says softly. “You’ve been staring at the prison for a while, I got worried.”

“It’s alright.” Eret sighs, smiling weakly at their friend. “I’m- I’m fine.”

Fundy gives her an incredulous look, but sighs, turning away from Eret. Eret doesn’t feel guilty for lying - she’s making sure his friend won’t snap, won’t fall off the deep end. She can’t allow Fundy to hurt because of Eret. The poor man is already upset because his ex fiance killed his uncle, she can’t let her friend be lead down the path of revenge.

“Where are you staying?” Eret asks quietly.

“Dry waters, with Niki.” Fundy responds. “We’re going back today, probably won’t be back for a while.”

“Oh.” Is all Eret can muster, not having the strength for what they know will come next.

“You could join us, if you’d like?” Fundy asks. It’s the same question, the same offer.

“I have a country to rule.” He responds, his eyes tired. Fundy doesn’t - can’t - notice, Eret’s eyes firmly hidden behind his sunglasses. “I can’t leave everyone without a leader, especially not since Dream hasn’t been punished.”

“You’re going to go up against Dream?” Fundy mumbles, shock on his face.

“Everything’s gotten out of hand. He killed Tubbo!” Eret snaps, she doesn’t understand why Fundy doesn’t see this.

“Eret, promise me one thing. Just one.” Fundy says, taking Eret’s hands. “Don’t make me come back to the SMP for your funeral.”

----

Tuboo walks alongside Ghostbur and Glatt, taking in the land. He remembers everything - all the suffering, all the pain - but allows the two elder ghosts to tell him the lore of the land. And the laws that they made. No one follows them, Tuboo notes, but he can’t find himself caring all to much about it.

What he does care about, is Eret. The king stands, staring at the prison, for hours. Ghostbur and Glatt don’t explain, and when Ghostbur begins to melt without the presence of water the two elder ghosts book it for the Aether.

Tuboo floats towards Eret, ready to talk to the king. They would be the first living person to know that Tuboo is real, the first living person to see him. Tuboo wanted it to be his father, but he isn’t certain that his father will want to see him.

“Are you okay, Eret?” Tuboo’s voice echoes slightly, taking on an airy quality.

“Tubbo?” Eret spins around, tears in his eyes. “Oh, Tubbo. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do this.” Tuboo says, though he knows none of this would have happened if Eret didn’t betray them. Tommy and he wouldn’t have lost their first lives. But Eret didn’t want their deaths. Eret was - is - the only adult to know what Wilbur and Techno were like to Tommy. Eret didn’t want Tommy and him to die. He wanted to protect them.

“If I hadn’t of-”

“Dream would have done this anyway.” Tuboo shrugs. “Death is not the end of the road. Just the turn off that will take you to your next destination.”

“Then why are you back here?” Eret doesn’t sound judgemental, just confused.

“Because I failed. I failed to protect Tommy.”

“You saved his life.”

“Dream executed me. Why are you staring at the prison?” Tuboo asks, the grass beneath his feat wilting. Eret looks down nervously, as though he doesn’t want to admit to something.

“I saw Dream take Tommy into the prison.” Eret blurts out, her voice wavering. “I tried to tell the others, but no one would listen to me. I tried Tubbo, I really did! No one trusts me anymore, this is all my fault if I hadn’t of-”

“Eret, shut up.” Tuboo says softly. “You didn’t throw the axe. You didn’t send us off. You tried. Now, let me help you get my best friend out of prison.”

Eret smiles, offering his hand to Tuboo. Tuboo considers it for a moment, before taking the hand. Tuboo’s always liked the king, and the good memories that he pushes away outweigh the anger. The betrayal. Tuboo is glad that the king is on his side, and the two walk towards the castle, hand in hand, as the moon rises over the horizon.

----

Phil sits in Techno’s house, a lukewarm cup of green tea resting in his hands. Snow falls onto the ground softly, and Techno’s soft snores hit his ears. He promised his son that he would sleep, but can he sleep? Phil had heard what Ranboo had said to the other members of the smp. Techno and he pretended not to hear, but they did. Techno refuses to let Ranboo sleep in his own house now, worried that the teen will be hunted for what he said.

Phil doesn’t think people will hunt Ranboo. There are now only two children on the Dream SMP, and Phil doesn’t think that anyone will kill them. Not after the joint funeral for the other two. Not after everyone saw the too small caskets get lowered into the ground.

“I should check in on Eret.” Phil mumbles to himself, his communicator lying on the table besides him. The king seemed hysterical from Tubbo and Tommy’s deaths. They insisted Tommy was alive - quite possibly due to the fact that a body has yet to be discovered - and wept every time that someone told them that he wasn’t. Eret is looking after his grandson, even if the fox hybrid seemingly doesn’t care for their family. Phil won’t let Eret’s hysterics harm his grandson.

Phil sends a message to the king, asking if they are alright. No response is given back, though perhaps that is a good thing.

It’s two am, and Phil’s tea is ice cold. Phil tips it down the sink, mourning the loss of the tea that he didn’t even drink.

Did Phil spend enough time with Tommy? Did Tommy die thinking he was unloved, unwanted by his family? Did Phil, in his attempts to help Techno control his voices and help Wilbur learn to fly, push away his youngest? What could Phil have done differently, in order to make the teen less reckless? Phil blew up New L’Manburg to teach him a lesson on corruption and recklessness, why would Tommy continue to run into danger?

Phil drops his cup, tears blurring his vision. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand where he went wrong. Sure, he spent more time with his eldest two, but Tommy always was so fucking independent - refusing his help when offered, learning to read before being taught how, even toddling around their home without help.

Cuts dig into Phil’s knees. He doesn’t know when he fell onto the ground, he doesn’t remember dropping his cup. His knees bleed, but is it enough? Is the blood that flows from the enough to staunch the wound that Tommy and Tubbo’s deaths opened?

Is Phil hurting enough?

Phil killed one of his sons. Pushed the other away, even before grief had overtaken him. Ghostbur doesn’t visit anymore, and Tommy and Tubbo’s ghosts haven’t been seen. Techno funnels his grief into anger and Ranboo blames him - blames everyone - for his friends deaths.

Phil stands up, leaning against the wall. He can’t stay here, his wings itch against his skin. He needs to get into the air. He needs to leave, leave the warm home that he doesn’t belong in. He craves the comfort of war and blood and death falling from his hands, gifted to innocent civilians and soldiers who stand in his path.

The cold comfort of violence beckons him, and Phil flees the sanctuary his only living son built. The moon lights the sky above him, and Phil flies over open fields, not willing to touch the villagers that Techno and Ranboo spent months trading with.

He finds a village, a good seven hundred blocks away from Techno’s home. Phil flies in front of the moon, his black wings illuminated from behind. The angel of death. A euphemism that Phil more than once preened himself on. A mortal, an emperor of a hard to reach land in a far off world, having epithets and euphemisms as though he were some underworld god the mortals dared not speak of, in fear of incurring his wrath.

Only the moon bares witness to his slaughter.

Blood stains the grass as animals and people die without a chance to struggle. Blood pools on the floor and coats walls. Phil is no psychopomp, but he serves the same purpose, ferrying the dead to the underworld.

Phil washes the blood off in a nearby river before he flies back to Techno’s base, hopelessness making him moonsick.

----

Tommy curls up in his cell, his ears pressed flat against his head. His tail wraps around his waist, trying to help him warm up. He’s still chained to the wall, though he isn’t bleeding anymore. A plate of food sits on a chest nearby, and Tommy’s new instincts scream at him to take it. That he needs to eat so that he can continue to grow. To live.

Tommy doesn’t want to do either of those things, so he doesn’t touch the food.

Tommy knows Dream is watching. He knows that Dream will come in, will force feed him until Tommy either passes out or throws up. He knows, because Dream is always watching. Because he can feel eyes watching him. Tommy knows, knows too much. He’s scared, he doesn’t want to have Dream force food and potions down his throat.

But he wants to be held again.

Dream is pack. Dream isn’t family. Dream is safe. Dream hurts him. Tommy doesn’t know the truth. Sure - Techno and Phil told him that what Dream had done to him in exile was wrong, was abuse, but they also teamed up with Dream to destroy his only home. Does that make his family evil, or Dream good? Is Tommy the problem, or is Tommy the victim?

Tommy knows one thing for certain about Dream. The man is the only person who visits him. He comforts him after Tommy gets punished for his mistakes, he made sure Tommy is feeling alright after his tail grew in. He gives Tommy apples and a caldron to wash them in. He gives Tommy shiny things to hide around his cell - his den .

Dream wants to help him. Dream wants to hurt him. Tommy doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Maybe if he eats Dream will come. Dream will come if he doesn’t, but maybe he will if Tommy does eat. Maybe.

He won’t eat, even if Dream promised to come. Dream is pack, and Tommy wants to see him again.

He lies on his bed, wishing for his abuser to come back and hurt him again, if only so that he can feel again. He wishes to be hurt or helped. Saved or slaughtered. Killed or kept. Tommy buries his face into the pillow and weeps for a lost friend. For the only brother who didn’t hurt him, the one that wasn’t even blood family.

God, he’s such a fuck up.

[wendimydarling]

Ground Sparring

Title: Ground Sparring

Summary: Log lines are the hardest part of writing. Just read the damn story.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x First Person Reader

Word Count: 2k-ish

Warnings: 18+, heavy innuendo, partial choking (though not sexual)

A/N: Had a dream inspired by @littlefreya​‘s lovely story “Sand Castle - Lines in the Sand”. Decided to write it out and embellish it a tad. If it gets enough interest I’ll write part 2 (which’ll be HEAVY on the smut, cause yum). Constructive criticism is always welcome, so long as it’s done nicely!

P.S. If you want to visualize the moves/chokeholds, google is your best friend. 👀

 GIF originally posted by @daydreamingwintertrees​.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was losing. Sy had one of my arms locked in the crook of his elbow, and I knew if he got a hold of my other arm, it would be a simple matter of hooking his legs over mine and I’d be successfully subdued. I could not, could NOT let that happen. Not when I’d been so close to winning. 

~~~~

I’d wanted a chance to spar with Syverson ever since training started. There had been more than a few looks between us, and even a couple of flirty exchanges as we drained our water bottles during break. I’d watch him and only him during his matches with others, and the amount of strength that man had never ceased to amaze me. His ability to subdue his opponent with ease had my body shaking with a desire to be underneath him in a room full of people. He’d only seen me spar a couple of times, but I knew he watched me. Even then I must admit, when the commander first called our names, I was nervous... Syverson is a big man. But, I’m wily and have a keen knack for slipping out of even the tightest holds, which I’m guessing was why we’d been paired. As I entered the circle, I watched Syverson’s friends ignorantly laugh and make jokes, telling him to take it easy on me. My friends laughed too; they knew how agile I was. Sy, however, was not as stupid as his friends; he knew if we’d been paired then I must be capable of something he wasn’t aware of. He sized me up, looking for a weakness, and I did the same. Neither of us found anything. We drew near the center of the ring and shook hands. Sy’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly at my grip; I’d impressed him with my confidence. Entering stance, his hands rested surprisingly gently on my neck and elbow. I knew this was a false pretense; I could see the muscles in his biceps and forearms rippling in anticipation for an immediate strike. His gentility was simply an attempt to get me to let down my guard before we’d even started. I didn’t fall for it. The moment the commander yelled “spar!”, Syverson executed a full-strength tug downward on my arm and neck, but I was prepared. I side-stepped his tripping leg, ducked swiftly under his arm in a half-pirouette and smacked him lightly upside the back of his head. He spun around and eyed me hesitantly as he crouched, circling me as a hunter would its prey. That move was his equivalent of Blitzkrieg in chess and had taken down many of his mates in the past, I was sure; he had clearly expected it to work this time. I flashed him a grin while he did some recon, unable to help myself from flirting a little. “What’s the matter there, Captain? Don’t know what to do next?” I taunted. I kept his foot placement in my peripherals, locking my blue eyes with his as we danced. He said nothing. I noticed his weight fall to his left leg, but his right leg was quivering; he was going to feint right but spin left, so that he could catch me as I attempted a dodge. I pretended to be clueless, feinting my own spin so that when he turned, I wasn’t in his arms as he had anticipated but I was once again behind him with a high side kick to the back of his head, harder this time. I laughed as he whirled around, somehow managing to raise his eyebrow and scowl at the same time as he sized me up. I could tell he was enjoying this challenge, and my body was humming at the close contact and the ability to show off. After the third evasion--and subsequent head smack--Sy finally caught on to my game. He growled as our onlookers heckled him, and he refused any longer to play offense. Ah, shit. This forced me to move first, and I’m not as good at floor combat. As I contemplated my options, trying to figure out what my best move was and how on earth I would possibly take this colossus of a man to the mat, he rushed me, using my distraction to his advantage. He grabbed my arm in less than a second, and I knew if I didn’t think fast I would end up on the ground. I pulled against Syverson, using his hold to brace myself as I planted my foot on his rock-hard torso and swung around his body, mounting his shoulders as if he were a horse. This nearly backfired, as the taught muscles of his shoulders were now pressed deliciously against my sex. I closed my eyes for a second, relishing the sensation that it brought to my core. Focus! I reminded myself. Since he was still holding onto me, I pulled his arm behind his head for balance, then squeezed the leg I’d swung around his neck. Instantly, Syverson dropped to his knees. I chanced a look at his friends; not one of them was laughing anymore, they were now desperately cheering on their mate to beat me at any cost. Sy reached his free arm back behind me and tucked into a roll at the same time, flipping me over his head onto the mat. Smart, I thought, he gave up the high ground advantage to get me to the floor. His tactic worked, and he gained the upper hand for the first time in the match as he shoved me off of him.

I scrambled to roll over and get up but Sy caught me first, hooking my leg with his and pinning my wrists to the floor. I wrapped my legs around what I could reach to gain some ground, but we were at a standstill. We took the moment to rest, staring at each other as we panted. Inside, I was on fire. His knee just barely brushed my groin, and I’m certain he could feel the heat radiating from it. I knew he’d have to bring my wrists off the floor if he wanted to get me in any kind of lock, so I waited. Sure enough, Sy sat up and pulled my hands with him, and that was all I needed. I twisted my wrists out of his grasp and immediately wrapped his neck in a Guillotine Headlock, pressing his forehead into the mat with my elbow. He grunted, trying to get purchase on the mat by anchoring his knee in my groin. I groaned softly and bit my lip; his thigh felt amazing against my body. If he couldn’t feel the throbbing desire I had from this, then he was simply the most unobservant man on the planet. Syverson tried to get up but at this angle my wrapped legs were enough to hold him down. “Poor baby,” I teased, squeezing harder, “The only way for you to get out of this is to concede, and that must be so embarrassing in front of your mates. Had enough yet, Captain?” A frustrated growl was his only response, to which I laughed, egging him on. I wanted him angry, wanted to see how far I could push him. The power was turning me on like mad, and the near thigh-riding wasn’t helping. Just when I thought I’d won, I felt fingers dig into my rib cage.  “Syverson no, that’s cheating!” I squealed as I tried to shy away from his hands. “All’s fair in love and war. And this is war, honey,” Sy finally spoke, the mat muffling his voice. I did my best to hold on to his neck but damn, the man had nimble fingers. I let go, and in one swift motion he rolled over and I was pulled onto my back on top of him. Just like that, I was losing. Sy had one of my arms locked in the crook of his elbow, and I knew if he got a hold of my other arm, it would be a simple matter of hooking his legs over mine and I’d be successfully subdued. I could not, could NOT let that happen. Not when I’d been so close to winning. I tried to pull my arm loose but Sy knew me now, knew how capable I was of slipping free. He grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm behind my head in a Half Nelson. Shit! I was struggling hard, elbowing him in the gut and squirming against his body every which way I could to try and throw him off his game. There was no denying it now: Syverson was just as aroused as I was. I could feel his length pressed against my ass, growing harder by the second every time I squirmed. “You better watch what yer doin’ down there, little lady,” he murmured in my ear, low and authoritative. “You wouldn’t want anyone to learn what yer doin’ to me, now would you? Otherwise they’ll know exactly where we went and what we’ll be doin’ after we’re done here.” Sy’s tone sent a zing straight through my body, lust coursing through my veins at his suggestive words. The thought of how his hardness would feel inside me after this was over was too much. His distraction worked and he grabbed my other wrist, turning the Half Nelson hold into a Full. “You’ve got her now, Syverson, finish her off!” I heard one of his mates yell. Not on your life, pal, I thought, showing him just how flexible I was. I put my legs on either side of Sy so he couldn’t pin them, then kicked off the mat as if I was doing a back walkover. Thank god for those gymnastic lessons. My head was still bent with my arms still behind it, but now my knees were spread on either side of Syverson’s head. I could see everything, and should he have chosen to, he could have reached out and licked me, I was that close to sitting on his face. I watched his eyes close, and the look on his face was so sexual, so pained, I could only imagine that he was trying to ignore the smell of my wet heat being so near, trying to prevent his arousal from showing. It was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever witnessed. The shock of the new position and his attempt to control his body loosened his grasp on my arms enough that I was able to break my head free and I quickly threw him in a reverse triangle choke before he could react. From there, I knew I had him. His arms flailed as he tried to find some part of me to hold onto.

 “Give up, Syverson?”  He bit my pussy in response. I yelped and squeezed tighter. “Give up, Sy?” He knew he was beat, but he was so stubborn. He tried to get up, tried to find some footing on the floor, grunting and howling in frustration every time he was unsuccessful. He even tried to tickle me again, but I ignored it. I applied further pressure, letting him know I was done playing. “Give up, Sy.” With one final growl he tapped out hard, slamming his hand twice into the mat in resignation. I released him at once and he shoved me off none-too-gently, but he had a smile on his face and damn it all, if it wasn’t the sexiest thing ever. He stood up, offering a hand to help me, which I graciously took. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said, “You’ve got a few things you could learn, but I’d hate to be the one on the receivin’ end of yer wrath. Well fought, Ace.” He pulled me in for a congratulatory bro hug, and while everyone else clapped and cheered I heard two words that sent a chill down my spine. “Showers… now.”

[jack-enbyfold]

I’m not writing a fic but I’ve got dialogue damn it.

After the final Trial. Ranboo played a rigged game for Wilbur’s death but his execution.

[He was thrown in a very deep pit themed like an old time print shop. He was forced to write down everything he remembered about the killing game in front of a timer labeled “deadline”. Every word he typed was 1 link added on to a giant chain out of his hole, attached to a journal-shaped weight at the top. He actually finishing and was climbing out when it hit 0. However, the timer changed to say “FIRED” and everything began burning. The chain he was climbing wrapped around him, pulling/tying him up as the ditch was flooded to “put out the fire.”]

What was SUPPOSED to happen was that all the top chain would shatter, implying his writing/memory was too weak, and he would be sent down to drown. (It’s called Weak-Link btw)

What happened instead was the players remaining, with information/tools Wilbur had given them before he forced Phil to kill him, had managed to stop it. Fundy gets a cool moment where they’re looking at the machine and everyone’s like “alright ultimate coder, can you stop this?” And Fundy goes “yeah” and starts smashing.

Ranboo ends up tossed to the ground next to the pit of water. Tubbo runs in to try and save him but is met by Technoblade and oops I wrote stuff.

——

“I thought you wanted despair!”

“I do- I- I did…”

“LAIR!” Technoblade lunged at Tubbo but stopped, letting him fall back as he tried to jerk away. He fell on his back with a pathetic thud.

“I’m NOT! I loved despair, I lived through it… but now I’ve tried something different.” Tubbo drew a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet the pig-masked gaze. “Something I’ve always had. I’ve always wanted! With Tommy I almost had it… I could have had it… but you took that. I hate you for it. Technoblade, Philza, even Wilbur. I hate you.”

Ranboo winced at Tubbo’s growing dark tone. He didn’t like it, he didn’t want whatever was going to happen to Tubbo for it to happen. He expected a laugh or a scoff, or worse, a slice or thunk or scream, but none of those came. Something sparked inside him. Something familiar, something good. The slightest sliver of hope dug it’s way into his chest, shot by the blessed silence. He  craned his neck, twisting in the heavy chains so he could look up at the masked man. There he was surprised yet again. There was no gnarled smile or vicious glare on Technoblade’s face, there was not cold empty apathy either, just a small humble frown. Ranboo squinted. Was the pressure of the weights getting to his head or was Technoblade… shaking?

“You…” he raped, not even flinching as both sets of eyes locked into him. “You… reg… regret it…” he gasped again, “d… don’t… you?”

A quizzical, piercing, glare was his only answer. It served more as a warning than a question but Ranboo answered anyway, even as just breathing was beginning to cause him pain.

“T… Tommy… you… regret… k…killing… hi-“

“SHUT UP!” The shaking in his hands became clear even to Ranboo at this point. The trident he was holding seemed to bend under how tight he gripped it, his eyes grew the wildest Ranboo had ever seen them even with all the bloodlust of this cursed game. He raised it up high and Ranboo wondered if it was more cowardly to squeeze his eyes shut or let them widen— And then Technoblade relaxed. His shoulders fell and the trident slipped from his fingers. It hit the ground with a boisterous clang, as if it too were confused by the shift in energy.

Techno stood there for a moment, looking down at the thing. His hands trembled furiously, he lifted them up to look at them, then he brought them over his face. “He… hehe…” he laughed. It wasn’t evil or wild or sarcastic- but it wasn’t humorous at all either. “Heheheh… hahaha… ahahahah… AHAHAHAHAH!”

Technoblades hands flew down; Ranboo could hear Tubbo’s gasp alongside his own as the hog mask came off with them. It was dropped to the ground with an unceremonious clatter mostly drowned out the the deranged laughter. It was off. Ranboo couldn’t breathe. That might be attributed to the weights and chains pinning him to the floor but he couldn’t help but attach it to the fact he could see Technoblade’s face. The mask that had haunted and tourmented them laid discarded a few feet away. Ranboo, almost wistfully, recalled a time they thought seeing behind the mask would solve their problems. What a stupid goal that had been. Technoblade’s skin was absolutely soaked with tears that still streamed down like lakes of acid, his eyes were bloodshot with pain and misery but his smile stretched ecstatic from ear to ear.

“Why are you smiling?” Tubbo demanded, audibly distressed by this turn of events. “Why do you try to hard to be miserable? You aren’t happy! I know you’re not!”

“Because,” Technoblade laughed. “You’re hurting me! I’m- it’s- DESPAIR!” Some awful mix of cackling and sobbing escaping his throat as he doubled over, holding his sides.

“You’re not happy.”

“Oh, Tubbo, I am! How can I not be? I’m miserable! I’ve never been so-“

“There’s another way, Technoblade.” Tubbo walked into Ranboo’s field of vision, leaning down next to the monster and placing his hand on his shoulder.

It was so easy to forget but Tubbo— him and Tommy— they’d been family to Wilbur and Techno. An awful, distorted, mockery of a family but a family done the less. Wilbur had certainly cared about Tommy and Tommy seemed to really love Tubbo. Ranboo wished he’d gotten to know him better.

“I will never, ever, forgive you.” Another round of hysterics spilled out of Technoblade. “But this isn’t right for anyone. There’s more, better, ways to find joy. Real joy. Honestly, despair is fucking overrated.” Despite the pain Ranboo found it in himself to laugh. He was too caught up in Tubbo’s speech to notice the figure looming behind him. “Please, Teachnoblade, have hope. Believe that there’s something better because there is. I’ve been in despair all my life, it’s all I’ve known, but—“

“Oh, Tubbo…” a pitying tone interrupted the moment.

Ice shot through Ranboo’s skeleton as the voice sliced from behind him. He tried to squirm himself around to face it but only hurt himself, he tried not to whimper as his shoulder and spine began to throb. He knew who the voice belonged to. He’d barely seen him but there was no way he could ever forget… Philza. “PLE-“ he gasped and sputtered. He didn’t have it in him to scream.

“If despair is all you know…” a cold hand gripped the chains around Ranboo’s back and yanked him sharply to his knees.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no. What was that? No. Was that his heartbeat or his thoughts? No please no. So fast. He couldn’t breathe. So heavy… he ached. The tank was still next to them. He’d lost the trial.

“Then you’ve never really known despair!” The delight in the voice was sickening. Ranboo hated it would be the last thing he ever heard.

He hit the water to quick and sunk even quicker. It froze and burned and stung, he barely had time to register the pain of being thrown before he was falling. He was falling right? There’s no way he was sinking he was moving much too fast. And he was cold. He was so cold. If he was drowning wouldn’t he need to breathe? He didn’t feel like he was suffocating… he didn’t feel…

He hoped Tubbo would keep his promise.

Yooooo, holy shit. That execution was a great concept honestly. And I forgot how fucking weird Despair folks could be honestly. Your writing is so good! Poor Tubbo!

[gildedmuse]

ZoAce talking about devotion (to Luffy, whitebeard etc). If you feel like it, of course

So I realize this doesn't feel the brief at all. I'm really sorry guys, I just got to spend five days in hospital (yay genetics!) And so the plan is for there to be a second part follow up soon.

Also, not gonna lie, I cut a very much R rated scene where Zoro and Ace have sex while Law watches because I realized that wasn't even CLOSE to the request. I'm sorry for this new OT3 I'm just way too in to. However, keep your eyes peeled for part two: the actual conversation, rated g for everyone.

I Couldn't Lose Him, Part One

"You could come with me, you know?"

You ever say something stupid, and before the words are even out of your mouth you know how stupid it is, but you end up saying it all the same?

Ace is always saying those kind of things. Especially since the failed execution when he almost died without saying some of the most important stuff. Now a days, these things would just flare up inside him, and he either had to spit them out or they would burn his throat all the way down as he swallowed them. Even then they didn't disappear, they just turned into flickering embers, not hot enough to explode outward but too hot to finally die down to nothing. He felt them all the time.

Like all those things he never had a chance to say to his captain.

But this... This was really stupid, because Ace knew what the answer would be before he even says anything.

Zoro rolls over in bed and smiles at him. Well, not exactly a smile smile. But a nice enough look. It said that he knows that Ace already knows his answer.

You could come with me. Shit. It really had been a stupid thing to say.

Zoro isn't going to leave his crew, his captain. Not until Luffy reaches the end of the Grand Line and can declare himself pirate king. Maybe not even after that. No, Zoro is a believer. He's steadfast, he's resolved, he's determined, he's loyal and committed and unfaltering in his trust and faith he places in Ace's crybaby little brother. He's unwavering in his support no matter how crazy the plan, because he has no doubt Luffy will carry through on his word.

Zoro is above all else devoted.

Ace had spotted it almost immediately in Alabaster. When Luffy said that he had to face this fight alone. Nami and Usopp were both practical - in a way Luffy needs to balance him out - and immediately pointed out that he in no way had to do it himself, they had numbers on their side, why not use that advantage? Sanji approached it a little more subtly, which Ace thinks is very much his style but will never work on Luffy. "They might be expecting us, they'll probably try to thin the herd to just Luffy regardless. Of course, if just Luffy goes than he'll have to face down whatever security forces they have in place by himself."

Chopper just wants to be helpful. "I know I'm not much of a fighter, but I'll happily guard Luffy against whoever they send after him!"

Zoro picks up the panting, overheated reindeer. He looks at Luffy, studying him for a mere second before nodding. A dangerous, toothy grin pulls at his lips. "Good. I wanted a second chance at that swordsman," Zoro says, as if he had planned to go off and fight the other kenshi regardless of what Luffy was planning on. As though if Luffy had said, "Zoro, come with me," Zoro wouldn't immediately forget about the other swordsman and follow Luffy anywhere he went.

Ace had noticed more than that, of course. Come on, the kid was cute. With spikey green hair and skin that looked like golden sand soaking in the heat of the sun. With his smile that tried to be hard and yet there was still so much shine to it, a sort of untainted joy that he couldn't hold back.

So, yeah, Ace had noticed, but he is also noticed all that loyalty, all that faith; it was all for Luffy. Poor kid. He didn't know that while Luffy loves his crew and adores his friends, his real loves will always be adventure and freedom and following his dreams.

Still, Ace isn't about to get between his brother and his first mate. Zoro could never compete with the promise of endless freedom, Luffy's general love of adventure, but what was the point of saying anything? He could already sense the resolve radiating off the swordsman. He'd already swore an oath to his captain, and it seemed clear to Ace his conviction was something deeper than a first mate's to their superior officer. Nothing Ace could have said would have changed that.

Besides, back then, he had his own mission to accomplish. Something entrusted to him by his own captain, and that was far more important than hopelessly flirting with some kid.

Of course, Zoro's not really a kid anymore.

-♠️-

When they met again in the new world, a whole lot had changed. Ace is captainless, crewless, mission less, sailing out on his own unsure where he's headed or what he is searching for. He stops by an island for a few days, partly to restock and partly because, well, it's not like he has anywhere else to be.

The ship docked nearby isn't at all familiar to him, but the loud shouting about meat and exploring and the new world certainly are.

Luffy hasn't changed a bit, Ace thinks with a light chuckle as he casually sneaks onboard this huge new ship to surprise his little brother.

Then there is Zoro.

As in, no, there - suddenly and far more sneakily than Ace remembers any of this crew being - is Zoro. He has Ace backed against a wall, sword at the other man's throat and a mean expression.

Ace finds himself having trouble swallowing, and it's not because of the sword.

"Oh," Zoro cocks his head and gives Ace a crooked smile, as though Ace can't hear that note of disappointment in his voice as lowers his weapon. So Zoro hasn't entirely changed. "Luf-Mmph!"

Ace gives Zoro a mischievous smile, holding a finger to his lips to signal he needs the swordsman's silence. He leaves his hand over Zoro's mouth as the strawhat vice captain arches an eyebrow, clearly wondering what the hell the older pirate thinks he's doing.

"Shh." Ace leans in to whisper into the swordsman's ear, pressing up against him maybe a little more than strictly necessary. Well, that's not entirly true. It's very much necessary in order to feel all those gorgeous new muscles. And Ace is really enjoying this new loose-fitting-kimono-practically-falling-off-his-shoulders-if-his-shoulders-weren't-now-as-broad-as-their-new-ship look.

Ace had heard rumours Zoro had spent the last two years training with Dracule Mohawk, and Ace could definitely see the influence, what with his robe hanging open practically to his waist.

"I want to surprise him," Ace whispers, his hand slowly dropping from Zoro's mouth. It takes a slight detour to his shoulder, broad and strong and just was well muscled as the rest of him. Ace can't help but give a firm squeeze, delighting at the play of strength he can feel flex in response.

Zoro crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head, but Ace can see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He still can't hide it completely. "It doesn't matter of you surprise him or not, he's going to be excited either way," Zoro points out which is fair, but Ace's way is more fun. "Don't expect me to jump in after you if he knocks you off the ship."

Ace has to stifle his laugh. Luffy's definitely gotten stronger, Ace saw that for himself at Marinefird. Still, he's not about to be knocked out by his baby brother. Like that could happen.

-♠️-

Zoro does jump in after him.

Of course he does. His other option is to let his captain's idiot brother drown.

Luffy must have knocked him pretty far, too, because by the time Zoro breaks back up to the surface, Ace is nearly unconscious, with Zoro's grasp on his hands and the arm pushing him up the other man's (also very finely muscled) back being just about the only thing keeping Ace on his back.

"ZORO!" Luffy yells from the side of the ship even though he could just stretch his neck out to them. Ace wonders if the crew understands the sort of people that could be tracking them through the Grand Line. Ace hadn't had the slightest clue either the first time he's arrived, but then again, despite being a super rookie himself Ace hasn't caused nearly as much trouble for the world government not too mention countless others by the time he reached the second half.

Luffy could probably stand to learn to announce his entrance a little less loudly.

"TELL ACE I'M SORRY!" Luffy continues to shout, in case someone at the port hadn't already worked out who they were.

Ace couldn't help but notice there is no question that Zoro had recovered Ace just fine. Luffy seemed to instinctually know that Zoro wouldn't fail him.

Ace use to have that.

Of course, what Zoro actually said was, "I did warn you."

"Yeah," Ace draws, ends up sputtering up a bunch of water still in his lungs. "But you also said you wouldn't jump in after me, yet here you are."

"Don't make me drop you."

"You wouldn't do that." Zoro was kicking them back to the boat, paddling with one arm, with Ace draped over his back. Ace vaguely remembers what it had been like to get in the water and not immediately feel drained, and he's pretty sure that this still isn't fun or easy. Especially with all this wet clothes weighing him down.

"Wh-what are you doing?" It's the most Zoro has reminded him of the same kid back in Alabaster, and Ace snickers at the slight stutter in his voice.

"Helping you out if this wet kimono," Ace purrs against Zoro's ear, which gets him swatted at like a particularly annoying fly before Zoro quickly snakes his hand back under Ace's leg, sure not to drop him. Ace doesn't let himself get distracted from distracting Zoro. He dips his hands bellow the sash, fingers sprawled out over the taunt muscles of Zoro's lower stomach. "Don't you think it's be easier t-"

Zoro does the last leg of the swim underwater, where Ace can barely stay conscious, much less mess around with the young vice captain.

-♠️-

Ace hits the deck with a wet thud.

"Why were you under water so long, idiot marimo? He could have drowned!"

"It got us here faster, didn't it erocook?"

"Back up, let me see! .... It's okay, he still has a pulse."

There's a great sigh of relief.

Ace pops open one eye, staring directly up at Zoro. "Does that mean you won't be giving me the kiss of life?"

"Ace!" Next thing Ace knows, he's losing all his air gain, this time due to the rubber ball that's been thrown directly into his stomach aka his little brother.

Luffy squeezes him so tight, Ace might actually pass out, or would have if he weren't practically made of fire. Instead he just laughs, knocking that ridiculous hat off his head just to ruffle up his hair before setting it back. "I didn't know it was you!"

"That's because the idiot wanted to sneak up on you," Zoro informs Luffy, but he's expression is less severe than his words. If anything he looks down at the two brothers with fondness.

Luffy laughs at this, pulling his cheeks wide to stick his tongue out at Ace. "Not anymore! Rayleigh showed me how to never get snuck up on - Owe!"

Luffy rubbed his head after Nani's hand connected with his skull in a hard smack. "Then what was with those pirates the other night!?" She asks, clearly still upset about some event Ace hadn't witnessed.

"That was marimo's fault. He was on watch. He should have told us!"

"I took care of it."

"They almost blasted a whole in the side of The Sunny!"

"Yeah, Zoro bro, you could have been a little more careful."

"The Sunny is fine, and I took care of it."

"Yeah, Nami, Zoro took care of us. That's why Zoro makes the best watch!"

For as much as the crew looks to have changed, it's good to see they're not so different.

Ace just starts laughing, enjoying the nostalgia of their little argument, and that seems to get everyone's attention off whatever happened a few nights ago and back on their more recent visitor.

The Straw hats stopped their argument, turning to stare at Ace like he is the crazy one on the ship.

Their last argument seemingly forgotten, Sanji lights up another cigarette. "What are you doing way out here on the Grand Line by yourself, anyway?"

"Oh, you know, just trying to get the old crew back together," Ace lies casually. He'd met his old crew, but without whiteboard there it all felt so..

Empty.

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Colder Than Ice

Warnings: Non-con, breeding kink, fingering/finger play, loss of virginity, tiny bit of blood, 18+

Word Count: 4,874

Pairing: Dark!Curtis Everett X Reader

Summary: Reader emerges from The Snowpiercer and finds herself in a situation she never thought would come about.

~ indicates a POV change

Prompt #’s: 9,11,13,15,16

This is for @jtargaryen18​ writing challenge. I apologize for being so late, I have been extremely sick. I’m finishing other challenges and after I will do chapter 2 of Love in True Form. Hope you like this update, I’m sorry again.

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

The cold air stabbed at your lungs as you inhaled deep. You looked around at the train that had housed you for the past 17 years; the place that had been so kind to you yet neglected others. You were a front passenger, it was true. Spoiled rotten by your rich parents, along with your older brother. Being only 3 when entering the train, you hadn’t known much of anything except the life on a never ending transportation object, one that seemed to go nowhere at all. When the crash came, you were engrossed at a party, none the wiser to the revolution taking place around you. 

You had heard stories of the tail passengers, yet you felt nothing but sympathy. You knew all too well of the harsh punishment due to your brother’s friend, Irwin. He was a guard and would talk almost daily about the cruel treatment he would give the less fortunate passengers.

“They deserve it,” he would say, “Nothing but a bunch of ungrateful, worthless, freeloaders.”

Despite his friendship with such a despicable character, your brother was the kindest man you had ever met. Nothing like your greedy father or the pigs that would display their love to you on the regular. Your brother laughed with the hierarchy, but would hold a glimmer in his eyes that showed he still held a degree of humanity. He was 12 when entered the train. He told you stories of when he would volunteer at homeless shelters with your parents, take in stray animals. It all seemed surreal. A time where your parents dotted on your brother for the kindness of his actions, not the harshness of them. He never explained why your parents had grown so cold like the winter they were trying desperately to escape, but it hadn’t taken you long to figure it out. On land, your family was working middle class, barely had enough for the better things in life after paying for the necessities. However, due to your parent’s loyalty to Wilford, they worked as engineers for him, they were allowed a bump up on the list when the time came for the train’s sections to be assigned. They never worked another day. Neither had you at 20 or your brother at 29. He always said if the train ever crashed that you and him would be useless along with the rest of the front while the tail would take control of the show. You couldn’t help but grow a melancholy smile at your brother’s words, how right he had been. Yet, he won’t be around to see how the world would be, for he passed away in the crash. Majority of the people at the party you had been dragged to had; thrown into the cold abyss when the explosion ripped off one of the train’s sides. Your brother’s last words was a desperate screaming command. 

“Hold on to the railing! Don’t let go!”

You had spun quickly to hold onto the railing along the bar when you saw your parents and brother sucked out. The memory adds tears to your eyes and wipes the smile off your face. The remaining party-goers were badly injured and begging you for help. Aside from a few scratches and a couple sore places, you were fine. You ignored their pleas, a selfish thing but they were too far gone. They’d only slow you down and take the little resources you could scavenge just to die later on. 

You were going to survive. Another thing your brother talked fondly about was his time in boy scouts. He may have downplayed it as a silly thing he had done since age 7, but they were useful tips. Tips that would ensure your survival for a time before conditions became less harsh. You look behind at the rubble before turning around toward the vast horizon of white. You had seen a desolate town a few years ago while in school. The years following showed the town more and more, the snow was melting. If you hurried, you were sure you’d find the town before dark. You had a bag from the party that had a few snacks and a water bottle, complimentary from goodie bags, that could last the night. You could do this.The commotion from behind you had your head jerking back.

 Not too far down you saw figures in dark rags as clothing. They were looking around the carts. You strapped the bag to you and crouched away in fear, beginning your journey. The time for the tail section to hail control had begun, and you had no desire to become part of their revenge raid. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was nothing like Curtis had remembered. It was unforgiving and made his lungs squeeze with the cool burn that comes with every inhale. Him and his people, the scum of the tail, were mostly okay. Majority of them had injuries, but none were dire. The worst of them had already passed. He had emerged from the train and started looking around for other survivors, he purposly strayed from the front. His fellow bunk mates all looked to him and followed like a shadow as he rummaged around for things to aid in their survival. Those who could began to help. 

“Curtis, the sun should be setting soon, we have enough for the night. Do you think we could start looking for a shelter maybe?”

Curtis turned to the voice to find it belonging to a young man, no older than 20. He thinks his name is Jeri. He’s slim from malnutrition and has dusty dark hair with matching eyes. He’s dirty like everyone else and has a nervous waver in his voice, like he’s talking to a god. 

Curtis smiles to try to calm the young man, he’s no god. Far from it, he’d go as far to say. 

“Jeri is it?”

The man’s eyes light up and his head nods feverishly. 

“Y-yes sir! That’s me.” 

Again, Curtis smiles. “Alright Jeri, round everyone up. We’re going to head east.”

Jeri proudly nods a “yes sir” before turning confidently to the crowd behind him, executing his orders. If Curtis could remember the revolt correctly, east is where he saw a lot of water. Water means life. They could use the water  and hunt the animals that went to the source while he strategizes his next plan. They had won the war, the aftermath would be the difficult part. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What you expected to have been hours walking was finally rewarded by a sight in the distance. You saw structures that were only in books you read as a kid. They were houses! You let out a desperate laugh that sounded more like a cry; you had done it! You picked up the pace and were soon greeted by a red wooden door. Different than the metal doors on the train. You knock, despite you knowing, before pushing it open. Inside the tiny house looked just as abandoned as the out, but you saw a previous life inside. A kitchen equipped with an iron stove and fridge; a living room with a makeshift bed and a tiny table. You walked in, shutting the door, and explored a bit more. You found there was one bedroom with a small bed made for a child and nothing more. No bathroom. By what your brother had described, your home had 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. Many homes were said to have countless bedrooms and more bathrooms than one needs, so this building you were in was a shock to say the least. No matter, it would work. Not like you had anyone to live with. You shuffled across the dusty floors before coming back to the entrance, pulling it open yet again. You walked around outside admiring the beauty of the natural world. Icicles melted to dull points and a river in the center of the homes, you counted seven, cracked, revealing water beneath. You were about to turn from the pond when movement caught your eye. You peered in and saw a fish, swimming! You laughed out of joy and amazment, you had found a food source. You saw a smaller pond with no fish inside and a wooden upright “box” next to it. You get closer and pull open the door to see a hole in the middle filing out into the Earth. You may have figured out why there was no indoor plumbing. Your brother called these “outhouses” and he said they weren’t fun to use at night on his Boy Scout camping trips.

Finding the other homes in the same condition as the first, the child room being the only difference, you found none to be better and took residence in the first. The day was giving way to night, so you shut your eyes and dozed off. The next day you promised you would get things done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone was tired. The injured and young were begging for a break, but Curtis knew everyone needed shelter. Food and water was important, but what was it all with no protection? Yona, the girl who had helped Curtis along with her father who had passed in the revolt, was trailing behind with the injured trying to help them keep up. Sarah and Thomas, a couple who lost several children while on the train, were helping the children.

 He glanced between the 3 of them for a while longer when Yona met his gaze. She smiled at him while she cradled an elderly man’s bruised arm. She looked past him and her face flashed with shock. 

She pointed and yelled, “Curtis, look!”

Curtis, along with other survivors, looked ahead. Curtis nearly jumped at the luck they had. It was an abandoned town, with what looked like a pond right in the middle. 

“Come on everyone, just a little bit further. We’re almost there.” Curtis encouraged everyone, including himself. His exhaustion suddenly came all at once, knowing that soon he could get a drink and fall asleep in one of the homes. They were going to be okay. 

They got to the houses fairly fast, everyone picked up speed once they saw their heaven so close. To their delight, it wasn’t a joint illusion, made from their exhaustion. The water was cold but refreshing, he even saw a few fish that he would catch for food. Kyle, a man around Curtis’ age, said he found another pond and an outhouse. This seemed like the perfect place, they could take up camp here for a long time before moving as food became more scarce. As everyone was exploring their new home, claiming houses, some would have to share due to there being only 7 homes, Curtis sat near the pond peering into it. He thought about the past few hours, about the people he lost, what he had gained and if it were even worth it. If humans would even survive. Sure the ones who are alive now be okay, but humanity as a whole? It died on that train, a burden Curtis wore on his sleeves. He knew he caused this extinction. He was just about to get up to pick the house Yona had gone into, she was all he knew, when a scream sounded. 

Curtis immediately jumped up and toward the sound, afraid Yona was in trouble. He got to the first house they passed, the one with the red door. Yona hadn’t been in that one, so who screamed?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been dreaming about the crash. All was normal, the party, your family was there, everything. Only, when the train’s side ripped open, you were the one sucked out. You screamed for your brother but he couldn’t help, it was too late. As you were falling you saw a bright light. 

You jumped up in the cot you were in, a scream still lingering in your mouth on instinct. It was just a dream. You looked up and was met with 3 men holding lanterns looking at you. You gasped and jumped up, finding the farthest corner from them to hide in. 

“It’s okay, little lady. We won’t hurt ya. My name’s Sam,” The oldest, around 60’s, said. “That’s Ceaphus,” he pointed to a younger guy with glasses, 25 maybe. “And that’s Walker.” The last one had dirty blonde hair, tasseled all to the side. Before anyone could say more, the door was swung open. 

“What happened-”

A 4th man appeared in the doorway. He had a full brown beard, a cap covering his head, and piercing blue eyes. They searched over you, and you covered yourself with your hands. You felt nude under his gaze. 

He followed the movement before breaking his trance and turning to the 3 other men. He nodded his head, a silent press for them to answer his question. 

The old man spoke up. “Oh-erm, nothing Curtis. We came in ‘ere to settle down for the night when we realized her.” All their eyes turned to you. “Ceaphus here called out to her and she screamed but didn’t realize us right away. Reckin’ she was havin’ a nightmare.” 

The man, “Curtis” turned to you again. He talked to Sam like you weren’t there. 

“She one of us?”

“Hard to tell. I’d say no, her clothes look nice, despite being a little dirty, and her face is clean. Though, I didn’t know a lot of people back there, ‘specially the younger ones. I suppose she could’ve washed her face in the pond, stole some clothes.”

Curtis grunted and turned to you. 

“Well?”

You just stared at hm. Too afraid to find your voice, you gulped and nodded your head. 

Curtis’ face hardened and he strode up to you, leaving no room between the wall and your body. Leaving no room between his and your body.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. I can tell by the disrespect you’re a stuck up front section bitch.”

His breath fanned over yours, some of your hair wisped due to the air. 

“N-no! I’m sorry, I was just scared. I am from the tail section. I never really left my bunk, and I kept to myself. I always his behind my hood” You held up your hoodie to sell your lie. “I thought I was the only survivor so I ran to find shelter. I’m sorry.” 

You were damn near tears, afraid of what would happen if your lies were unsuccessful. Curtis held your eyes for a moment longer before releasing you from his body. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Curtis couldn’t lie, he was turned on by how scared you were. You were beautiful and he hadn’t had a woman in years. The control he had over you was driving him mad right then. He also had no idea if you were telling the truth or not, if you’re really from the tail section it would be understandable why you were scared of him. Stories about what he used to do got around, many young people strayed from his gaze. He too didn’t know much of them, unless the children were of his friends, like Tanya with Timmy, he didn’t know them. Yet still, he didn’t believe you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Curtis?”

Yona’s voice caught Curts’ attention as he turned to face the young girl. She looked past him at the girl and her eyes were that of recognition. Curtis turned to the girl and saw the same recognition, only fear was laced in there. They knew each other.

“Yona, do you know her?”

The sound of her voice had Yona peering up to look at Curtis. “Yes. We played together in the front all the time when we were young. Her parents were rich and bought her so many toys.”

Curtis turned to the girl again, her eyes wide with horror looking at Yona. Curtis couldn’t help the grin that crept it’s way to his face. 

“So, you lied to me?” The girl refused to meet his gaze. “Everyone out, I’m going to have a little talk with our...friend.”

Everyone left leaving Curtis and the girl alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were caught red handed. You had known Yona for years, her dad always let her play with the younger kids in the front while he worked. She was always drawn to you, despite being a few years older. She stopped coming by when you were around 18, and you had missed her. This wasn’t how you wanted the reunion to go. 

Curtis shrugged off his coat, revealing several other dirty layers beneath it, and set it on the dusty table in the kitchen. He removed his hat to reveal short brown hair the color of his beard. If the circumstances were different, you’d find him gorgeous. Instead, there you stood, terrified out of your mind, in a corner. 

“So, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Curtis said pulling out a chair and turning it so his arms rested on the back “I want answers. Let’s start easy, what’s your name?” 

You told him while your body started shaking. It wasn’t the cold that caused this. 

Curtis considered this, then pressed on. “You’re from the front. Is there anybody left? Were you part of a group that survived?”

You nodded your head violently before remembering to speak up. “No, I’m not the only one. My family died in the crash, but I found a few people to go with. I was tired so they let me rest while they went out to find food.”

If you lied and made him think people were out there looking for you if things went south, maybe he wouldn’t try anything. Besides, you weren’t completely lying. Sure you weren’t in a group and hadn’t seen any from the front, didn’t mean everyone died. 

Curtis let out a breath before removing himself from the chair, stalking closer to you. He felt along your clothes and his fingers danced up from your stomach to your chest. You took in a sharp breath while he squeezed your right boob. 

He got close to your ear and whispered, “You’re lying.”

The air he caused when he spoke caused goosbumps to rise. 

“No, I’m-”

“Yes, you are. And I hate liars.” Curtis punctuated the word with another squeeze on your boob. 

You whimpered and tried to shrug away from him. Curtis pulled you by your hair with the hand he had used on your chest and brought you closer to his face. You could count every freckle on his face now. 

“How do you know I’m lying? I could be telling the truth.”

Curtis growled, clearly fed up. “How do you think I found out?” Curtis looked you up and down before chuckling a bit. “You’re from the front, if your lips are moving, you bastards are lying.”

Your heart stung at his words, what had they done to him?

Curtis licked his lips before looking you up and down. “Now, I can take you either way. But if you’re good for me, I might just make sure you feel good too.”

You pushed at his chest, desperate at this point to get away from this man. 

Curtis shook his head. “Guess we’re taking the hard way, huh?”

Curtis swung and threw you on the cot. Before you could react, he was on you pulling at your hoodie. 

“No!” 

Your hands flew to get Curtis off you, to stop his wandering hands. He ignored them, stripping you of your hoodie and 2 sweaters and bra. He stopped to gaze at your chest before slowly bringing his hand to touch your bareness. His touch was gentle, as if not to break you, despite his actions. He tweaked at your nipple and gave the other boob the same attention.

 He brought his head down to your neck and started to assault you with kisses and nips every now and then. You were still squirming when he started to hump you thigh, an obvious bulge to represent his excitement in your torcher. He let your nipple free to pull next at your pants. You started kicking when Curtis delivered a blow to your face. 

“Stop”

Tears rolled down your face, there was nothing you could do. You let him remove your pants and your underwear before looking at your slick. You were embarrassed to say it, but you were wet. Years of suppressed hormones, ones you dealt with alone in your room at night, had come flooding all at once to your core when he first started touching you. 

Curtis chuckled above you before dipping a finger in. “This all for me, hon?”

Your hips, contrary to what your mind screamed, bucked into his able fingers. Your body relishing in the way he swirled his finger around your clit in a way you never could. 

“That feel good?”

You shut your eyes and threw your head to the side, embarrassed. Curtis chuckled at your response and presses his finger harder and swirling faster than what you thought was possible. Soon, the coil you’re oh so used to starts winding in that spot. It's stronger than normal and it collapses all over your body in a way you’ve never experienced, it left your whole body shaking. 

With your eyes still shut and head still turned you huff to catch your breath, the small room feel suffocating with the new found heat. 

You feel more movement and you finally open your eyes to find Curtis becoming mouth level with your sensitive heat. You know what he wants. 

“N-no more, p-please..” You again try to plead, but Curtis easily swats your hands away and pulls you closer by your hips and resting your legs on his shoulders. He’s so close you can feel his ever inhale and exhale of breath on your pussy. 

“Mmm, smell so good.” Curtis hums while breathing your scent in. He sticks out his tongue and starts licking up your juices. It feels so good you can’t help the moan that leaves your mouth. He licks at your tiny bud a little longer before putting his whole mouth on you, devouring you. The slopping sounds have your body buzzing and back arching in bliss. The wet sounds coming from below distract you from the finger making it’s way to your hole. 

Curtis puts the pad of his index finger to it and it has you trying to close your legs. You’ve never gotten that far on yourself before. 

Curtis looks up at you through his eyelashes before sucking on your clit harder, leaving you defensless. His finger finds your hole again and slowly starts to enter, eliciting a strained moan from you. The slight burn from the stretch oddly added to the pool that Curtis happily lapped up. He started working that finger in and out og you, your hips desperate to follow the pattern. In, out, in, out. Curtis growled into your core before his opposite hand slapped your hip, a warning to keep still. As you held your weak will, Curtis added yet another finger. This time, you screamed out in pain.

“Stop! Please, it hurts.”

Curtis ignored you for the millionth time and just did scissor motions with his fingers, causing waves in your stomach.

 He sucked harder, he was playing your body like a harp, plucking moans out of you. You made your eyes focus down to see Curtis’ hips grinding the floor, no doubt taking care of his aching needs. The thought sent you over the edge, crying out again. The orgasm seized your body, shaking as each wave calmed into still water. Curtis licked a stripe one more time before removing his fingers, the absence making you clench around air. He brought them to your mouth. 

“Suck.”

You opened your mouth and sucked on his fingers. The saltiness from your release mixed with your saliva before being swallowed around his fingers. 

“Good girl. Now, can you still be a good girl while you take my cock?” The fog from your mind passed as you realized your situation again. Curtis stood up before he started removing the rest of his clothes. You looked up at him and looked to the door. You could make it. 

As Curtis was down to just his shirt and boxers you leapt up and passed him. You had made it to the red oak when a pair of thick arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you to something likable to a metal wall. 

“Come on now, we both know you can’t get around me.” He ground his hips into your lower back, he was huge. 

He threw you back to the cot and got back on you. He bared his chest to you, a wall of muscle. “The front end isn’t running the show anymore.” He took off his underwear allowing his member to stand at attention. The tip fire red and dripping precum. “It’s time you learned that.” Curtis grabbed your legs, setting them on either one of his hips. You’re slapping at his chest and arms, tears streaming down your face, begging him. 

“Please Curtis, you don’t have to do this please!”

His eyes no longer hold ice, they are dark with lust and a fire is amist within the middle. 

Curtis shook his head and said, “It’s time you learned who is in charge now.” Before shoving himself into you. 

You screamed out in pain, The stretch nothing comparable to his fingers. Curtis is hissing above you, holding himself there. 

“So..tight…Shit!”

He started moving slowly but with harsh thrusts within you. Your walls pulling on him every direction he went. He looked down where your bodies met and you did the same. Blood stained his girthy length but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Been a while since I’ve been with a woman.” He said while picking up the pace, the pain bending into pleasure. “Don’t think I’ve ever been with a virgin.”

Reaching down, he started tweaking your clit, the stimulation helping your third rise of the night. 

“Wanna know how we knew somebody was dating in the tail section?” Curtis looked to you, finding your glossed over gaze. “They would fuck in front of everyone else. The girl would be screaming the guy’s name out, nobody would doubt it. That’s what I’m gonna make you do tonight and every night after. Everyone will know you’re mine.” 

The thought sent a shiver down your back. 

Curtis chuckled while his hips found a better rhythm, one that hit even deeper, if that were possible. “After all, babe, the world is going to need a few babies. I say we get a head start of everyone.” 

If you weren’t so in the moment you’d be crying again, kids was a conversation you never talked about. A topic that never came to mind, you thought you’d die a very happy supportive aunt to your brother and his kids. He was always hitting it off with women on the train. Your heart wrung at the thought. He’d never have kids now. You wish he were here, he’d be able to save you. 

Curtis pulled you from your thoughts with a dip of his head. He opened his mouth and started sucking a nipple in, never once stopping the rhythm of his hips or his fingers. The mixed pleasures had you moaning out loud in Curtis’ ear, earning you a growl. 

“That’s it baby.” Curtis said coming up for air. “Moan for me. Moan my name gorgeous, let them know who fucks you this good.” 

Your third orgasm crashes through you, Curtis’ name leaving your mouth on their own account like a chant. 

Curtis picks up speed on your exhausted body, his head moving up to rest in the crook of your neck to pant and moan your own name. 

“God, you look so good coming around me. Coming all over my cock like a dirty girl. You want me to cum don’t you? Cum all in this pussy, make a mess. Beg. Beg for me to cum in you, beg for me to give you a baby. Do it, now.”

“C-Curtis, please cum inside me. Give me a b-baby, please.” 

“Yeah? You want to have my baby? Fuck, I’m coming! I’m coming so hard!”

Curtis’ hips slammed into one more time before halting inside you, his seed filling you in hot spurts. He pumped himself in you a few more times before pulling out. He looks at your abused soaping pussy before scooping his release onto his fingers and shoving them back in. 

He goes to get his coat and you haizly try to get up again. “Run again and I’ll tie you up and fuck you like the pig that you are.” Curtis said while making his way over to your unstable body, a smirk playing on his face. He knew you couldn’t, especially not in this state. 

He grabs you and pulls you down into the cot with him. He pulls the coat over you both before he pulled your back to his front. His left hand came down to caress your stomach. He nuzzled his face into your hair and breathed in your scent. He smiled before saying,”Go to sleep.”

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

@jtargaryen18​

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Airbender’s Wife (part 2)

Hmm, posting this fanfic before the weekend is over *twiddles thumbs*. Still incomplete though; will add the continuation within the week.

The Airbender’s Wife (part 2)

Note: This is literally a continuation of The Airbender’s Wife, which is an off-shoot of Contentment – which follows the “what if” Lin Beifong and Tenzin had a happy ending/beginning (all posted under the linzin fanfic tag in my tumblr).

Pairing: Legend of Korra: Lin / Tenzin; not canon compliant

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

Tenzin’s body clock has always been programmed to be on time for morning meditations. No matter how tired he was, he will feel restless and wake up at the same time (getting up is a different thing altogether though).

That day was not an exception.

He stretched his arm to his right, intent on drawing his wife closer for a few more minutes before rising, but instead his hand landed on cool bedsheets. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he got up nimbly and wandered around the house, hoping to catch his wife before she left.

The airbender found Lin standing in the dining room, garbed in a long Earth Kingdom-styled dress, a small face mirror propped in front of her at the sideboard as she attempted to clip a rather stubborn curl of her hair.

“Up early?” He approached her, landing a kiss on her cheek.

“Ba Sing Se day, Tenzin.” She responded, not looking away from the mirror.

“Ah, here, let me.” Taking the clip from her, he easily pinned her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “How about I join you today? I don’t have any council business.” He gave her a hug from behind, squeezing her hips lightly, hinting of a promise that would likely end up with a less than productive day for them both.

“Right,” She brushed him off. “But you’re off to train the Avatar -.”

“Korra, dear.”

Lin rolled her eyes affectionately. “You don’t have council meetings today because you have to train Korra.”

“Then how about I bring Korra to Ba Sing Se?” Tenzin persisted, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“You also have scheduled meditation with the air acolytes today. And Tenzin, do be serious,” She finally faced her husband. “The girl has barely gotten used to Republic City – you wouldn’t want her presence to cause intrigue in Ba Sing Se. Next, you’ll hear Izumi would be requesting for the Avatar to drop by the Fire Nation.”

“Fine,” The airbending master glumly conceded as Lin pushed him slightly to get around the table to prepare for her trip. “Can’t say I didn’t try though.” 

In general, the airbender disliked being apart from his wife for long periods of time – what more today when she was looking particularly radiant. As much as she did not prefer what she called as business outfits, they suit her well. He also knew that Lin dresses up accordingly as what is expected of a Beifong lady.

Tenzin observed Lin who was in a layered dress of forest and emerald green, with a low v-collar, lined with golden accents. The dress also had slits, which he (as a husband) appreciated on her but (also as a husband) especially minded that other people would likely appreciate it on her as well. His wife insisted on them though (“That is too high, Lin.” “No, it’s not – it’s functional, enough for bending”), explaining that a tight dress would only hinder her bending, and in turn be an obstacle in protecting herself.

Not like there was anything he could do to sway her when she has set her mind to something.

“What,” He pulled her closer to him as she paused as she caught him staring, raising an eyebrow in return. “I can’t help it, are you sure you don’t need a bodyguard to join you?”

“Bodyguard – you? Mr-Violence-is-not-the-answer?” She felt his lips creep from her cheek to the side of her lips. 

“You know what I mean.” Tenzin said seriously as they stood close to each other.

“I’ll be fine,” Lin responded and adjusted her bangles and bracelets. “I’m prepared as always.” The metal bangles and bracelets would function as more than fashion accessories should need arise. She swept the folders and other envelopes into the beaded bag she had on the dining table. “I’ll be back before you know it, I just need to reach the train station in time for the first train to Ba Sing Se.”

“No, you’re not riding the train to Ba Sing Se in that!” Tenzin sputtered, gesturing to her clothes.

“Why? As far as I know, the train stations are pretty safe,” Lin was offended. “I made sure that there were roving guards and security checks. People travel via train daily.”

“Well,” Tenzin conceded. “But not you!” He tugged at his beard in slight agitation, as Lin placed her hands on her hips. “Take Oogi with you.”

“Travel via sky bison -no thanks!”

“For my peace of mind, take him please.” He softly requested and he saw his wife ready to give in with a slight incline of her head. “And, wait a second.” Tenzin hurried to their bedroom as Lin finished packing her bag.

Lin felt the familiar weight of a pendant and the silky ribbon on neck when she straightened up. Her husband gave her neck a small kiss after he fastened the necklace.

“There, everyone will know that Lady Lin Beifong has yet to leave her airhead husband.”

“Tenzin.” Lin said with warning.

“Oh come on, you know what they think of me in the upper ring. I bet some of them have been hoping that you leave me or have had me offed for whatever nefarious reason.”

He was well aware of how, despite being middle-aged, desirable his wife was in all aspects. He might be the prized airbender but in the modern world (or even in the not-so-modern Earth Kingdom), she was definitely worth more with the literal Beifong legacy of wealth, power and social clout, not to mention her own bending skills were far more superior than most, and of course her position in Republic City was nothing to scoff at.  And of course, barring knowledge of any of those, he recognized that his wife posed an attractive (albeit mysterious) figure.

“I think I can handle myself,” She said ironically, as the safety of Republic City’s entire population did rest somewhat on her hands. “Okay fine,” She gave in, seeing her husband not budging, arms crossed. “I’ll take Oogi but only to make it easy for me to travel back and forth.”

“You’re the best,” He gave her a light kiss and strode off to the stables.

-----

“Good morning, Korra.” Lin watched in amusement as the Avatar slowly inched her way to the dining room, rubbing her eyes and rolling up her air acolyte clothing sleeves, mumbling a response.

“Tenzin’s not going to like your outfit, kid.” She raised an eyebrow at the teenager.

“What?”

“Your sleeves.” 

Korra unfolded her sleeves and plopped on the nearest chair as Lin poured her tea.

After taking a sip, Korra became aware of a far-away noise and that it was the Chief of Police sitting in front of her.

“Wow Lin, going somewhere?” 

“Hmm?” Lin absentminded fiddled with her betrothal necklace; she appeared to be waiting for something as she had already finished preparing for the trip. “Ah yes, Ba Sing Se for estate and business matters.”

“Not in your police uniform?”

“No, I don’t think the business people will take me seriously. They’ll probably think I’m my sister’s bodyguard.” She snorted, an action seemingly out of character with the fine clothes she wore. “I have to know how to play the role of Lady Lin.”

Now, it was Korra who snorted and coughed, realizing that this was Lady Lin. The Avatar took the opportunity to inquire, to learn more about her airbending master’s wife.

“What does being Lady Lin Beifong entail?”

“Ah well, I just don’t think I should be called Lady anything. Sounds a bit archaic, if you ask me.” 

“But why are you Lady Lin?”

“My mother is currently Lady Beifong. So I guess my sister and I just follow? And they just haven’t been sure what to call the wife of Master Tenzin I suppose.” The earthbender shrugged gracefully, exhibiting the result of years of being trained in etiquette befitting the Ladies Beifong.

“But still…” Korra’s eyebrows furrowed as she sipped her tea. “What’s in Ba Sing Se?”

“Well,” Lin continued. “It’s the mid-point across Gaoling, Republic City and Zaofu so that’s where my sister and I conduct regular meetings with the board and the executive committees of the Beifong companies and properties.”

The Avatar was about to probe further when there was a commotion outdoors and the Avatar vaguely heard Tenzin talking to an air acolyte about saddling Oogi.

“He’s a bit overprotective, sometimes.” The metalbender stood up, ready to leave.

The presence of the airbender halted their conversation. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes, dear. I’ll be safe.” 

“See you later.” Tenzin gave her a quick kiss as she passed by him.

Lin slung her bag and nodded to Korra. “Avatar.”

“Chief.” The Avatar gave a small wave.

“Well, let’s get to business.” Tenzin beckoned for his pupil to follow him outdoors.

Korra quickly finished her tea, scalding her tongue. But at least she would be awake.

-----

Unfortunately, there was not much difference from the previous day. Korra was still unable to release a puff of air from her hands and had difficulty getting through the airbending gates. Tenzin was similarly frustrated with himself.

It was at this sad state of things that Lin arrived at early evening.

Korra was lying on the ground trying to airbend when Oogi made a landing and sent dust skittering off.

“You okay there, kid?” Lin checked in on her as she slid off Oogi’s back, several packages in hand.

Korra just made an X with her arms, while having her eyes closed.

The earthbender smiled sympathetically. “It’ll get better.” She stepped over the defeated Avatar-in-training and gave her thanks to the air acolyte who had taken Oogi’s reins to lead him to the stables. “Clean up and dinner will be ready soon. I brough home food from Ba Sing Se, including Water Tribe dishes.” She entered the house, coming across her husband in the living room.

Tenzin eyed the packages that Lin brought home. “Had fun shopping, dear?” 

“Just a bit,” She shrugged as she carefully placed them on the dining table. “Here’s the contract for the renovation; the Zaofu workers will be in Republic City early tomorrow morning.” She tossed him the folder. “I’m assuming you can file this in city hall?”

“Thanks.” He absentminded took the folder. “How is Suyin?”

“Su is Su. She lives in her own world – literally. I had to make her promise to avoid visits to Republic City for the time-being given the increasing clashes between benders and non-benders.” She looked up and knew from his expressions that he was worried. “How was training Korra today?”

“I can’t get through her,” Tenzin disclosed, frustration coloring his tone. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Be kind to yourself,” She began unpacking the food she brought home. “Republic City wasn’t built in a week. You’re both adjusting. These takes time, and you’re a pretty patient man and I know that from experience.”

“I don’t feel patient today,” Tenzin allowed himself to be embraced by his wife, murmuring in a downcast tone. “How about let’s eat quickly and retire early tonight?”

“Unfortunately for you,” She pulled up the newspaper from the sideboard and pointed to an article. “Tonight’s the Pro-bending semi-final qualifiers and you know I can’t miss it.” 

Tenzin groaned in disappointment. “Liiiiin.”

“Tenzin,” She laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll have dinner before I join the boys.”

-----

“Where are you going?” Korra asked.

“It’s Pro-bending night.” Both adults responded to her, one excited and one sullen.

“You don’t like Pro-bending?” The teenager asked her airbending teacher. “It’s been my dream to watch one of the matches live. Never thought I would be a ferry ride away from the arena!”

“It’s a mockery of the traditions of bending!” He threw up his hands.

“Oh come now, Tenzin,” Lin inclined her head to the grumbling airbender. “It’s no Agni Kai but it’s adequate entertainment.” 

“That’s just it – entertainment.”

Korra looked back and forth at the volley of responses from her hosts.

“Spirits forbid anyone have fun in your vicinity, Airhead.” Lin took it in stride. “Mother did say you were always the serious one.” She tugged lightly at his beard before standing up to take the trays of food and drink outside.

“Can I listen too?” The Water Tribe born Avatar tentatively asked.

Tenzin frowned deeply as he met Lin’s amused face, eyebrow raised in challenge. “Fine, but meditation for you starts 15 minutes earlier tomorrow.”

Letting out a whoop, Korra stood up and took the other tray of drinks and followed Lin outside, where the White Lotus sentries were gathered around the radio.

“Hello, men.” Lin made their presence known as she placed the tray on the wooden table at the station.

“Good evening, Lady Lin, Avatar.” The sentries chorused as they scattered to make space in the half-circle to provide seats and to take the trays from Lin and Korra’s hands (“Call me Korra!”).

The Avatar-in-training watched in amazement as Chief Beifong sat among the White Lotus sentries, comfortable in her Earth Kingdom dress. The lady was laughing in camaraderie and was even exhibiting that she knew them all by name. She chatted with them as they shared the finger food she brought home from Ba Sing Se while waiting for the commentator to finish with all the introductions and recaps. Korra figured it was not their first time to do this.

“How is your daughter, Hung? Did she like the mini pots and pans?”

“Oh yes, Chief, she enjoyed having a mini kitchen set to play with.”

“Lady Lin, my mother sends her regards.”

“Ah yes, Minha, I hope she’s getting used to the South Pole well.”

“Yes and she appreciates the coat you sent her through Lady Kya.”

Korra enjoyed herself immensely, freely laughing and feeling the start of an affinity with the White Lotus sentries. It was a far cry from the feeling of isolation she experienced back in the South Pole. They booed and cheered accordingly as the matches went by. They did not seem to particularly take her Avatar status with a lot of fanfare, which she liked.

She watched the metalbender at the corner of her eye – for all her misgivings, it would seem that the airbender’s wife was not all that bad as literature and media made it seem. The woman was laughing, no condescension in sitting and eating at the same space as the sentries. If it were not for the golden filigree and her attire, Korra would have thought her a part of the team. She was pleased to see that Lady Lin had no airs, which was more than could be said of her own Northern Water Tribe cousins.

“Excuse me, good evening everyone.” Tenzin’s voice cut-through the din. “Just checking if I may now take my wife home?”

The sentries stood up to give a bow, which the airbender returned and waved off.

“But we’re just getting to the good part,” Korra almost whined. She anticipated that she would be told off to go to bed too.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Lin accepted her husband’s hand as he helped her up from her stool. “I’ll go ahead, you all have stay and finish the match.” She motioned to the group. “I trust you’ll be able pack up later and finish your shifts?” At everyone's affirmative, she placed a hand on Korra’s shoulder. “Alright, see you all tomorrow – well, maybe not all: Aki and Sansan, I think you're both off duty tomorrow.”

With that, the group bid the pair good night. 

“Say what you will about those two,” Head sentry Yao, one of the more senior ones in the group, jerked his head towards the couple going back into the house, with the airbender still tightly holding his wife by the waist, tripping with faint laughter trailing behind them. “But they’re definitely a love match.”

“Never seen a more dedicated wife like the Lady Lin,” A dimpled sentry (Aki was his name, if Korra was not mistaken) commented wistfully (“And vice versa on the airbending master as a husband!” Another piped up). “I don’t get it why they get so much flak from the Order and the press.”

“Tradition,” Yao scoffed. The rest of the sentries turning to face him, relying on his experience as fact, being that he had been on Air Temple Island as a junior sentry during the previous avatar’s term. “If anything, they know the Lady would not be held down but they expected Master Tenzin to at least be a bit more pliable. A little bit more steeped into tradition, you know?”

Korra accepted a mini fruit tart that was being passed around the group, as they wait for the advertisements from the radio to finish. There was a lot, given that it was probably the third to the last ad slot. 

“It’s not like Chief Beifong was wasting her time in Republic City,” Han revealed that he used to be part of the Metalbending police department until five years ago when he decided to heed an offer from the Order of the White Lotus. “She had always been fair – very strict – but fair. Highly competent and much more capable than the entire City Council put together in protecting the city (“Shhh, don’t let Councilman Tenzin hear you!” “He meant keeping the city crime stats lower – that can’t be achieved by peacekeeping alone.” “Ah, right right. True.”).”

Into the third round of the last match (the Fire Ferrets were proving to be a well-trained underdog) , they felt the ground trembling.

Korra immediately stood up, tensing. “What on earth is that?” Earth tremors were uncommon in the South Pole, and if any, it did not seem to forecast good fortune. She distinctly noticed the unease among the sentries as they communicated non-verbally with each other. “Should we prepare for something? I can go inside and warn Tenzin!” 

“No!”  The vehement chorus of No’s surprised her.

“Well, okay – no.” She was confused now. “Is there an evacuation plan or is this normal?”

The sentries looked at each other, appearing unsure to Korra.

“Well?” The Avatar-in-training was poised to run into action at the first sign of danger, putting down her cup of water on a nearby tray.

Finally, head sentry Yao cleared his throat. “Don’t worry Avatar, this is very normal.”

Eventually, the floor ceased its apparent movement and there was a collective sigh of relief.

The rest of the sentries cast furtive glances at Korra as she sat back down, unable to fully focus on the game. The sentries, though, were easily engrossed in the match.

The match soon ended (“And the Fire Ferrets wiiiiiin!”) and everyone pitched in to clear the area. Korra hovered awkwardly, still on alert and very wary of the earth tremors.

As the last of the cups and trays were brought away, Yao took pity on the Avatar and wanted to give her peace of mind.

“You sure that was normal?” Korra twisted her hands in slight agitation. “That won’t cause the island to split and sink or something?”

“Yes, Avatar, there is no need to worry about it.” The head sentry accompanied her to the door of the Air Temple residential building.

“I don’t remember the island sitting on any fissure that would cause it,” The young woman wracked her memory for any geological feature near Republic City that could result in an earthquake. Man, she really needed to brush up on her studies. “I don’t think I’ve read about a phenomenon in the text way back.”

“Uh, it wasn’t a fissure,” Yao looked downright uncomfortable now. “And it’s a fairly new, uh, phenomenon; just a couple of years old.”

They have reached the entrance to the house; Korra paused and tilted her head in question. Just then, the ground shook a bit more for a few seconds long then every thing was still. “Tell me I didn’t just imagine that.” 

Two sentries (Ming and Jian?) passed by as part of their rounds. The head sentry nodded at them, “Will the two of you check The Area tomorrow?”

Ming and Jian saluted and Korra was left pondering why “The Area” sounded like it was said with capital letters, as though the White Lotus were talking about a very specific location.

“Better get some rest, Avatar. Good mood or not, Master Tenzin and Lady Lin wouldn’t appreciate it if we,” Yao rubbed the back of his neck as he turned back to the Avatar who was waiting for answers. “Continue to discuss the, eh, aftershocks of their evening exercises.”

Oh Agni, please swallow me into the ground now.

----

Welp. Playing with the idea on what the pair looked like to others they interact with on a day-to-day basis for more...~domesticity? Eh 😏 lemme know what you think.

===

My related posts:

Prologue (Contentment) 

Airbender’s Wife 1 | 3 | 4

[jootsmcgoots]

Clarity (GN!Reader x Fugo) Sickfic, SFW

WOO BOY okay so this was the last of the fics I’d posted to tumblr. And here it comes back, with a vengeance.

This fic. I remember this fic. I remember I’d caught the cold from a friend of mine because he insisted he was fine when we were hanging out. 

And then we were not fine.

Good times LOL

Anyways, here it is! I am still quite fond of this fic because it brought me a lot of comfort while I was sick.

Rating: Teen (due to the casual nudity lol)

Genre: Fluff, sickfic

Word count:  3721

Summary: You hate being sick, but Fugo makes it better (however ironic he may think that may be).

AO3 Link!

In the dark of your bedroom, you stirred and tried to blink your eyes open. You registered that you were awake, but also that you very much wished that you were not.

It had to be too early. There was barely, if any, light filtering in through the drapes. You wanted to check the time, but could barely muster up the will to even move, much less keep your eyes open. They felt heavy and bleary, and they burned like they just wanted to close shut again. You could feel your brow and nose scrunching up as your face tightened and your eyes squeezed hard before opening again, blinking a few times for good measure.

Groaning, you turned to your side and carelessly waved your hand to the side, trying to find your phone on the bedside table. Once your hand glanced over it, you grabbed it and flipped it open. Your suspicions about the hour were confirmed as your phone’s clock read 6:14 AM.

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, the words garbled and not even meant for anyone in particular. Flipping the phone shut and dropping it gently back onto the table, you rolled onto your back and stared into the darkness of your ceiling, willing sleep to take you again. Your head felt heavy, and you throat stung as you tried to swallow the saliva in your mouth.

Ah. Right. You were sick. Now you remembered.

You groaned once more. “Aghhh. Guess I should have…shoulda listened.”

===

It started with a sore throat that you brushed off, saying that you would deal with it when you got home. Then it evolved into sneezing and an itchy throat.

You recalled as your boyfriend, Fugo, glanced at you with concern. “Shouldn’t you go home?” He phrased the words as a question, but his tone had an urgency to it that you still chose to ignore.

You shook your head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Panni! I’m strong!”

Fugo flushed slightly at the use of nickname in public. His eyes darted around, even if he knew you two were alone. He didn’t need Mista or Narancia teasing him about the pet name. He coughed and continued, “Th-that’s not the point. It’s best to get some rest and nip whatever you’ve caught in the bud, before it gets worse.”

Despite his stern tone and insistence, you continued to wave him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to finish this first, Fugo. Don’t worry! It’ll be easy!” You gave him a wink and continued perusing your paperwork. Knowing that you wouldn’t listen, Fugo simply shook his head.

“Okay,” he sighed. “If you insist. But please, get some rest when you can, amore.”

You hummed an affirmative and giggled as he kissed your forehead and left to go on his next mission. In your head, you told yourself he worried too much as you returned to your work that ended up keeping you at headquarters for hours longer than you’d intended.

When you awoke the next day, you felt lethargic and heavy. You realized that it had to be way too early, as there was only a bit of dim light filtering into your room. Checking your phone, it was 7:01 AM. Then, with a start, you realized your throat hurt worse than yesterday. “Oh no…aw come on!” you thought to yourself. You hated being sick, and it dawned on you then and there that what Fugo had said to you was right. Pinching your brow, you were still determined to make the best of it and still went to headquarters to finish up the last of the work that had been assigned to you.

But by noon, the gang had already caught on that something was wrong with you. You were constantly sneezing and coughing, and had to constantly stop to blow your nose. Your eyes were bleary and wet, and you couldn’t seem to stand bright light, your eyes reflexively squeezing shut. At that point, Bucciarati had made the executive decision to send you home, and wouldn’t listen to your insistences.

“And anyways, it wouldn’t do if you got the rest of us sick. Just go home, (Y/N), and get some rest.”

While your mind put up some resistance, trying to insist that you could still work, your body gratefully accepted the offer and you nodded, eyes hazy and unfocused. You mumbled a goodbye and waved weakly to everyone before staggering your way home, sneezing the entire way.

Once home, you stripped your clothes off, threw on your pajamas as best as you could, and made yourself tea. You spent the rest of that day just drinking tea and passing the time with television or radio, and then sleeping when you didn’t feel like listening to anything. As the day wore on, your sneezing got worse, as did the unbearable itchiness in your ears, nose, and throat. You also noted that your ears felt plugged, most likely filled with fluid.

By now, it had been about a full day since you’d first gotten sick. You were feeling a little better in some regards, but you felt worse in others. Sleep had helped your fatigue a little bit, but your throat still burned as you swallowed, and the itchiness hadn’t gotten much better. You coughed bitterly as you turned to your side and tried to force yourself to fall asleep again.

You awoke a couple of hours later to some knocking, then the doorbell ringing. Moaning, you willed yourself to roll out of bed to answer the door. Looking through the peephole, your eyes widened in recognition.

“Fugo?”

You opened the door as quickly as you could in your addled state, the door suddenly swinging open as a slightly peeved and out-of-breath Fugo huffed at you.

===

Fugo had returned from his mission sometime in the evening, well after you had been sent home. He looked around, noting your absence. Normally when he had a mission, you would wait for him to return to welcome him back and take him home. And even if you didn’t have any work to do, you were usually somewhere to be found.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked. Bucciarati heaved a sigh, knowing full-well what would come next.

Upon hearing the news, Fugo was practically fuming. “They’re what?! Augh! I told them! I told them so!” Pinching his brow and taking a breath, he pulled out his phone and dialed your number, only to be brought to your message box. “Oh, come on!”

Bucciarati tried to soothe him, telling him that it was likely that you were asleep by now. “Sleep will only do them good right now, Fugo. It’s best to let them rest and come see them in the morning.”

And while Fugo had heeded his capo’s words, he still had preparations to make. In a quiet sort of fury, he visited the pharmacy and grocer’s, and when he had woken in the morning (perhaps an hour after your first early-morning awakening), Fugo practically started running to your place in a worry and rage-induced rush.

===

“You!”

You startled slightly, sleep-hazed eyes widening the tiniest bit. “Me?”

“I told you so!”

The realization dawned on you. “Ah. Oh. Right. Yeah. Haha…” you chuckled croakily and ruffled your bedhead. “Uh…sorry?”

Shaking his head, Fugo glared at you, his gaze scolding and admonishing. “Sorry nothing! The only person to apologize to is yourself! I told you to take better care of yourself! Did you even take some medicine?”

Pondering for a moment, you muttered sheepishly, “Uh…no. I thought I could just…I dunno, sleep it off?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Sleep it—sleep it off?! (Y/N)!”

You winced, your head hurting again. While Fugo wasn’t necessarily shouting at you, he was still speaking at a volume higher than normal. Plus, the bright morning lights weren’t doing you any favors. “Nnh, Fugo…too loud.”

At your wincing motion, Fugo immediately realized that the tone he was taking wasn’t helping, and that a lecture could happen later. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he soothed, reaching out to you and holding your face, worry softening his expression. When you eased into his hand, he felt a wave of relief wash through him. “I was just worried about you, especially when I didn’t hear from you all day…”

You nodded, and then gestured to the inside of your living quarters. “It’s okay. I know you’re just worried. Just. Bring it down a notch?”

Fugo nodded, entering and closing the door behind him. Walking to the kitchen area, he set down the bags he had been carrying. You cocked your head and pointed to them. “Did you bring me something?”

“Yeah, I brought some food and medicine for you. I also made sure to bring some sports drinks for you. You’ve most likely been drinking only water and tea, knowing you. If you’re sweating a lot, you need to replenish your electrolytes too, you know.”

You chuckled hoarsely. “You know me too well.”

Fugo shot you a dangerous glare. “Tesoro…” His voice was low and warning. “Do I really need to give you a lecture right now? Right this moment?”

You looked away, but your expression was joking and you chuckled a little. “…no…”

Your boyfriend huffed at you, placated and slightly smug. “I thought so.” Fugo cross over to you and pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to get a gauge on your temperature. “You seem to be alright, if not a little warm. How are you feeling today?”

You pursed your lips and hummed. “Tired. A bit hazy and dizzy. I’m having a hard time focusing on things.”

“Anything else?”

“Hnn…” Your brow furrowed in concentration. “Throat hurts. Ears are plugged, and my eyes and throat itch a lot. My head hurts a little, too. I’m also sneezing and coughing a bunch. Ah, but don’t worry too much! I’m making sure to blow my nose so it doesn’t get too stuffy. I’ve also been making sure to hydrate, and I’ve been sleeping a lot.”

He nodded at you, mollified by your answers. “You don’t seem too bad right now. I would recommend taking some of the medicine I brought you and continue resting the way you are. Regardless, I will be looking after you today. Leave it to me, okay?”

You nodded and grinned, giving him a lazy salute. “Mhm, si signore.” You giggled, the fog on your mind still thick. “Look at my Fugo, my lovely Panni. So smart, so cool! I’m so lucky to have a guy like you looking after me.”

At your words of endearment, particularly the “my lovely Panni” part, Fugo flushed and sputtered slightly. His heart began to flutter at your praise that definitely came from a place of honesty, given your current mental condition.

You grinned toothily. “Hehe. Now we match!”

Still red, Fugo clicked his tongue in scolding. “Hey now! N-none of your shenanigans today, (Y/N). You need to rest.” Drawing closer to you, he realized how damp you were. You had a slight sheen to you, and your clothes had a disheveled quality to them.

“When was the last time you bathed?”

Your brow furrowed once more. “Hmm…well, probably the night you left for your mission,” you answered after a moment of thought. I didn’t get the chance to yesterday; I was too tired, and I could barely just get my teeth brushed.”

Fugo’s lips thinned into a slight line. “That can’t be comfortable. And plus, the hot water could bring you some relief for your symptoms.” He took your hand and began to gently lead you into the bathroom. “Come on, tesoro. It’ll be good for you.”

You nodded sleepily, letting Fugo take the lead. Turning on the lights to the bathroom, Fugo led you to the tub, only for his eyeballs to bulge when you began to strip in front of him, casually and lethargically dragging your shirt up and off of you.

“H-hey! What are you doing?” He cried out incredulously.

You blinked at him, dazed. “Gotta strip to wash.” You seemed to punctuate your point as you stepped out of your sweatpants and underwear at the same time without a single care.

Fugo shook his head. “You could have at least waited for me to leave the room.”

Humming, you shrugged, evidently not flustered by your boyfriend’s presence in your nudity. “It’s not the first time you’ve seen me naked. And anyways, I don’t think either of us are feeling very frisky.” You said as you blithely tossed your clothes into the laundry hamper.

While your words were true, the young man before you continued to shake his head in exasperation. “Still, it doesn’t hurt to exercise a modicum of modesty. Or at least maybe don’t just start stripping out of the blue.”

“Okay, okay.” You waved him off as you pulled on a shower cap (you could wash your hair later, preferably when you felt better) and began to get into the tub. “Can you get me another set of pajamas ready, Panni?”

“Yes, of course. Just take your time. I’ll come in and check on you when you’re done. Make sure the water is nice and hot.”

You hummed affirmatively as you drew the shower door shut and turned the water to the hottest setting you could tolerate. Still, you gave a startled yelp as the still-cold water hit your skin. Fugo merely chuckled. It would have been smarter to just let the water heat up first and then get into the shower, but he decided not to comment, taking your surprised noise as payment for all of the stress you’d given him.

“I’ll leave your pajamas in your room, and I’ll go make you something to eat.”

“Alri-ght.” You replied, stretching the word lazily.

Once the temperature had gotten to a comfortably hot temperature, you exhaled in relief. This was nice. While you still felt tired and hazy and dazed, the water was relaxing and felt so good on your skin. You took your time, taking Fugo’s advice, and idly lathered and washed yourself, wiping your skin clean with a washcloth. Plus, the heat and steam did wonders for your congestion. It truly did feel good to get clean again after all the sweating you had done in your sleep.

True to his word, Fugo knocked on your door once he heard the water shut off. “How are you feeling?”

You stood there in the steam, still warm and dripping from your shower, and took a deep breath and sighed out audibly. You could hear your boyfriend chuckle through the door. “That good?” he commented. You could hear the satisfaction in his voice, but still humored him with another relieved sigh.

“Mmm-hm.”

“Great. Food will be ready soon. Get dressed and stay warm, alright?”

“Mhm.”

Once you had finished dressing, you padded your way to the kitchen. You found Fugo waiting for you, a bowl of porridge waiting for you.

“Ahh, you really do know me. I may be hungry, but my stomach isn’t feeling…” You waved your hand vaguely, the word lost on you for the moment.

“Well, yes, I do know you. You have a history of a delicate stomach. But it’s also best for sick patients to stick to things that are easy to digest and won’t stress out their digestive system.”

You laughed as heartily as you could. “That’s my Panni. So smart, so attentive, so caring. Thank you.”

His cheeks and ears flushed at your praise and your warm and sleepy (albeit a bit dopey) smile, but his expression was clearly pleased. “Here, let’s help you get some strength back.”

You both ate slowly in a calm silence. Every now and again, you would break the silence by talking, first asking him how his mission went. You listened as aptly as you could, given your compromised focus, and nodded in a lethargic kind of understanding. Once you signaled that you could have no more, Fugo rose to clear the table for you.

“Let me do it. Go take some medicine, brush your teeth, and let’s get you back in bed.”

Nodding, you took the medicine from the kitchen counter and padded back into the bathroom, taking the appropriate dose and brushing your teeth as best you could. While you were no slacker when it came to hygiene and taking care of yourself, it still felt so very good to be so cared about, to have someone looking out for you.

Once you finished, you trotted back into the kitchen as Fugo finished up putting the last dish onto the rack. Noticing you, Fugo turned to you as he wiped his hands clean. “Ah, done already? Good. By the way, there is still some left over.” He nodded to the pot of porridge, which was now closed, the fire turned off. “You can just heat it up and eat it whenever.”

Your expression wilted slightly. “Are you leaving already?” You made no effort to hide the disappointment in your expression and tone.

Fugo shook his head and laughed lightly, and you perked up slightly. “No, no. I was just letting you know. I told you, amore.” He crossed over to take your hand and squeezed it. “I will take care of you today.”

While you still felt quite weak, you could feel your expression brightening. “Okay…!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how you perked up immediately. A warmth blossomed in his chest as he proceeded to lead you back to your bedroom. Fugo helped you sit down and get settled, but when he moved to get up, he felt a tug on his jacket. He peered at you, staring up at him with expectant eyes.

“Yes?”

“Fugo.”

“Yes?” he repeated, voice soft and gentle. Normally it may have annoyed him a little to be pestered like this, but he couldn’t help but feel endeared by how vulnerable you sounded in that moment.

“Stay with me?”

Fugo blinked at you. “Stay?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to get in bed with me. I, I don’t want you getting sick.” You blinked, looking away slightly. “But…I hate being alone when I’m sick. I especially hate sleeping alone, or thinking I’m all alone. Can you just stay in my room?”

Chuckling, he flicked your forehead gently, earning a little noise from you. “You know, technically even if I wasn’t in the bed with you, I’d still be in proximity of you if I stayed. That means I could still catch what you have and fall ill.”

You whined, the noise high and worried. You didn’t want to get him sick, but you didn’t want him to leave either. Your whining was cut short by some gentle shushing and a hand to your forehead.

“Now, now. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, okay? If you need anything, call me and I’ll come right away, okay?” His voice had taken on an uncharacteristically soft tone. Rarely was he ever this soft with anyone. You loved it, and felt at ease already. He knelt down beside your bed offered you his hand, and you took it with you under the sheets, holding it close to you.

You closed your eyes and began to doze off as Fugo lazily traced meaningless patterns into your palm. Once he noticed your breathing had evened out and that you were asleep, he withdrew his hand slowly, taking the utmost care not to disturb you. Smiling, he rose quietly and made his way out of the room, leaving the door open.

===

When you awoke, it was close to evening. You could tell by the light outside taking on a characteristically orangey, dusky hue. Sitting up, you opened your eyes with noticeable ease this time. You still felt tired and you were definitely still a bit under the weather, but you definitely felt clearer now. The haze on your mind had thinned.

Looking at your phone told you that it was 6:27 PM, and that you had missed a call from Fugo yesterday evening, as well as a couple of texts from him this morning. Oops.

“Well, it worked out anyways.”

You swung your legs across and set your feet on the floor, the fabric of your rug tickling your toes comfortably. Steadying yourself, you began to make your way to the bathroom, but stopped right outside it as you noticed Fugo asleep on the couch.

The thought that he might be tired crossed your mind as the gears turned in your now-much-clearer head; judging by the timeline, you realized that he must have gone shopping immediately after returning from his mission, and that he had planned on coming to you first thing in the morning. While you felt a little guilty for making him worry so much, a giddy grin pulled your lips upwards as the realization of how loved and cared about you were truly sunk in.

You truly hated being sick. You hated feeling so physically miserable, and you hated how weak and useless it made you. But above all else, you hated when you were alone and sick. While you figured you could take care of yourself, there was still this feeling in your chest, perhaps the child in you that still hated being left at home all alone, sick and scared with no one to help you as you whined helplessly in pain.

Walking over to him quietly, careful not to wake him, you placed a hand on his face and gently caressed his cheek with your knuckles. You knew better than to kiss him right now.

“Thank you, Panni. I love you. You’re the best.”

Fugo mumbled incoherently, his eyes blinking open. A little bit drowsy, it took him a little time for his gaze to focus properly on you. “(Y/N)…?” His hand reached up to you, still half-asleep.

You took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Mhm.” At the warm sensation of his hand in yours, realization began to fill Fugo’s eyes as he began to register where he was and that you were up and about.

“How are you feeling?”

You grinned. “Never better.”

And while you weren’t completely recovered yet, you really meant it.