#and like sometimes you need to climb the stairs but your thighs are too sore so you find a workaround by using your tiptoes

[italiantea]

this is by no means a groundbreaking revelation but i love how translation forces you to take a step back from autopilot mode and see the little intricacies of a language through the eyes of a non-speaker. and also reveals how something you thought was completely natural and intuitive is actually fucking absurd if you think about it

[piratesfromspace]

Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw.  Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are. 

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

[raggaraddy]

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh. 

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n.  I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VI/VII)

"the downfall"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language, allusions to sex

A/N: my apologies for keeping y'all waiting for this one darlings, but here comes the next part YAYY! Enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

He had left me in the room that morning, alone, with regret and guilt straining my chest, with embarrassment and panic heaving over me, my only company being a terrible headache and a sore body.

I was still waiting for him to come back. Of course, he still lived in the apartment, but the day after, he slept at Shell Cottage because Bill needed help with the chores, and the next night at the Burrow because Molly had asked to keep an eye on 'the kids' —the kids being Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione— while she and Arthur were off to visit Andromeda, and at Lee's because Angelina was away and they were going to have a boys' weekend; in summary, he managed to avoid stepping into the flat while I was in there for an entire week.

I would be lying if I said the idea of moving out hadn't crossed my mind, but I knew I was being dramatic— we were being dramatic; we were adults, even if we forgot about it more often than not, and adults talk things out, so I decided to confront him at the only place I would manage to corner him; the shop.

When I descended from the office on the second floor, I spotted the ginger turning the 'CLOSED' to face the glass door. "Oi!" His head snapped to me as I climbed downstairs and he instantly walked to the shelves on the opposite side. "Can I have a word?" I requested, following him, only for George to move on to another shelf.

"Right now I'm quite busy." He replied, seemingly absent-minded as he pretended to check the products in front of him.

"This is important." I insisted, moving to stand besides him.

Not fast enough, though, because he was off to yet another part of the shop as soon as I got close. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You know it can't," I assured intently, stalking after him, only for him to speed up his own pace, moving from product to product without stopping too long in front of him. "George I'm- Oi, stop! We need to talk about this!"

"Well maybe I don't wanna talk about this!" He exclaimed, taking big steps under one of the stairs in order to shamelessly dodge the hand with which I had reached out to stop him.

"George Weasley don't run away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you!"

"You're literally RUNNING AWAY!"

He stopped circling the counter and stood across from me, slamming his palms over the till. "ALRIGHT, LOVE!" for the first time, I didn't like the way the name dripped off his tongue. "Let's talk about how we accidentally FUCKED! That's what you want so badly, isn't it?!" Flush crept up his neck and ears, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or from timidness. "Go on, darling, lead the bloody way!"

I felt my own cheeks going red, partly because of his straightforward statement but also because I genuinely had never heard George raise his voice like he had just done.

"Cat's got your tongue now?!" My stuttering seemed to fuel his anger more. "C'mon, Y/n, talk! You wanted to talk!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, GEORGE!" He clenched his jaw as his freckles drowned in a sea of pinkish red. "Yeah I want to talk! 'Cause that's what grown-ups do! We don't know how to act around each other so we just don't spend time together anymore— Fuck, I've barely seen you! AND WE. LIVE. TOGETHER!" I emphasised each word with stomps. "We can either pretend it didn't happen or talk it out to make sure we're on the same page, you choose but for Merlin's sake, don't avoid me!"

"OKAY!" His eyes widened, surprised at his own tone, and then he repeated in a softer, self-conscious one, "Okay." He breathed deeply and then added. "We're on the same page, right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked into my eyes. "It was... A mistake."

I should have noticed the uncertainty and hope in his voice, but I panicked and was too quick to respond, "Yeah! A massive mistake." My words stung my heart and, to my dismay, his own just as much. "Can we go back to being friends? Because I'm going crazy without you." I blamed our watery eyes to the argument we had had, and not to the fact that it had been a mistake.

He circled the counter and walked to me, hesitating before pulling me into a hug. "Can I...?" I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. It took a moment for him to ease into my embrace, and I could tell we had fucked up our friendship for good. "It's alright, we'll make it right again." His words made me squeeze him tighter, as if he was about to vanish from my side.

And from then, we tried to make it right, we tried so hard, because it seemed so easy to make it wrong again.

Everytime we stood too close, everytime he leaned on to whisper something, everytime I helped him with his tie, our eyes would fall on each other's lips; I would sometimes drift off the conversation, staring too much at his mouth and hands, wandering if they would feel just as amazing as they had done while we were drunk.

"Y/n are you listening?"

"Uh yeah- I mean, no- sorry, what?"

I was so focused on trying to hide it that I didn't notice George was in the exact same situation, meaning that neither of us could give in, because we would go down together. In all honesty, it was doomed to happen at some point, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The moment came the last night of January, when George showed up in my room due to a really rough nightmare, and I, as always, invited him in so we could lay down together.

"Isn't this... Weird?" He murmured as we scooted closer. We had kept physical contact at bay for obvious reasons, and cuddling had been off the table since New Year.

"It doesn't have to be." I replied, my voice as quiet as his. "We've done this a thousand times."

"Right." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from mines as we shifted in our places ever so slightly, trying to find a position where the situation turned less awkward.

And it happened, my mind got lost on the way his neck tensed, on the damp locks hanging over his forehead, sweaty due to the nightmare; on his plump lips, which he had just wetted with his tongue in the most subtle way. It was a nervous habit of him, something he would usually do, but that didn't make it any less hot.

"George..." I called his name without noticing, my heart hammering violently against my chest when his gaze landed on my eyes, quickly falling on my lips.

The next thing I knew was that he was holding my thigh over his hip, his other hand on the back of my neck while we shared a hungry kiss that, as soon as my hips involuntarily rocked against his, turned into something more.

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

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The next morning we swore to each other that it was just another accident, that it would happen again.

And the next one too.

And the following.

The fifth time that happened, we agreed to call the situation a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, well aware that it was an euphemism for the downfall of our friendship.

I had longed to be hers for so long, and it that moment, as I lay by her side in her bed, that wish seemed so close yet so far; I could reach out and my fingertips would touch her skin, yet I had never felt that distant towards her.

The moment my eyes were averted from her form, her gaze was laid on me. "You don't have to go."

"I know." I replied in a mumble, already sitting up and reaching for my pants. "But soon we'll have to get up, so I might as well do that and let you sleep." I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to see her beautiful irises pleading for me to stay by her side, because I knew I would.

I saw on my peripheral vision her fingers attempting to carefully wrap around my wrist, and I was quick to stand up and walk to the door; sadly, I did not miss Y/n burying her face into the pillow, her hands fisting on the fabric ever so subtly.

She tried to hide her tears like that, and I agressively wiped mines as soon as I reached the corridor.

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

"Morning, lady!" I light-heartedly greeted Y/n without turning my back to the making of our breakfast when I heard the steps approaching the kitchen.

In the morning it was easier to pretend everything was back to normal; usually, the refreshing sunlight and the drowsiness provided by a night of sleep were enough to wash away the sad truth of our relationship.

"Good morning, sir." She responded with a yawn, rubbing her eyes as she walked to stand besides me, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. "Smells good." She commented, leaning on to take a peek at the scrambled eggs.

I was about to make a cocky, playful comment when it dawned on me what she was wearing; it was my jumper, one of the old ones that I exclusively used for pyjamas.

I knew she didn't do it intently; I had left it on the floor the previous night, and it was probably the first thing she grabbed, but it struck a nerve.

I had seen a similar scene way too many times before; a sleepy, dishevelled Y/n entering the kitchen with an ugly Weasley jumper as only clothing, ready to start the bickering with an almost identical version of me who would be making breakfast.

My head then travelled to the thought that lately crossed my mind more often than not and my heart clenched; In Y/n's eyes, I was, most likely, just a poor replacement for Fred.

"You alright?" That worried furrow appeared between her brows too often lately. We were both walking on eggshells, and it got me on my nerves.

"You don't have to ask if I'm alright every time I'm quiet." I hadn't meant it to come out harsh or curt, but it definitely did.

"You're not quiet, you're overthinking." She responded with a tinge of hostility.

"What's to overthink?" I fought the need to raise my voice.

"Dunno, you tell me." She squinted her eyes with a scrutinising gaze directed to me.

"Can we not do this?" I almost pleaded; heated arguments had become a usual thing between us —yet another sign of the unfixable problem we refused to address.

Y/n was about to reply something that would lead us into a fight when the doorbell rung. "Mister Weasley?" I took that as a cue to go open the door to Verity, already dressed on her uniform. "The Valentine's Day products arrived, should I unpack them or..." Her eyes flickered behind me and her cheeks heated up. "Y/n—" When I looked over my shoulder, I felt my own face flushing out of embarrassment. Y/n was still my employee and Fred's ex, so Verity catching a glimpse of her dressed in my jumper wasn't the best thing for any of us. "I— am I— sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You're not interrupting." I assured her with a reassuring smile. "Leave the boxes on the puking pastries section, we'll be down in ten."

"Alright, sir." Her curious gaze travelled to Y/n one last time, and with that, she was rushing back down to the shop.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

The ache that had appeared on my chest the day after New Year would end up killing me, or at least it felt like that.

I had a dreadful gut feeling of knowing what caused that pain, but my mind refused to believe it was that, and kept pushing the sensation back into my heart day by day.

George had gone to relocate the puking pastries in the upper level of the shop so I could prepare the section with the Valentine's Day products.

My eyes dawned on the small packages of Amortentia. I knew it was a terrible idea but I needed to know.

I took a look around, making sure Verity wasn't near and George was up still, and brought one of the Amortentias under my nose. It didn't take long for the scents to besot me, and I had to put all my will on not to fall under the potion's spell.

The first smell to reach my nostrils was gunpowder; my heart skipped a bit when the next scent was vanilla.

Then strawberry and chocolate; candy floss cupcakes and George's cologne.

The tiny, heart-shaped bottle fell from my hands, scattering all over the shop's floor. "Shit!" I rapidly kneeled to pick the shattered glass when I realized it had echoed in the empty establishment.

"Oi! What was that?" George descended from the second floor, using the ladder. "Oh shit—" his hands took a hold on my bicep and pulled me away from the pool of pinkish pearl liquid that seemed to be attracting me. "Don't!" He warned Verity, who had attempted to jog in the potion's direction too. "Verity, can you bring me my wand?" The girl complied running up to the office.

In Verity's absence, George took the chance and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to check my eyes. "You alright?" I managed to give him a slow nod, my mind buzzing with the newly acquired information. "Getting the Amortentias was a bad idea, wasn't it?" I nodded again, producing a frown between his eyebrows. "No 'told you so'? Are you sure you're alright?" He chuckled nervously, his hands falling to his sides right in time for Verity to rush back to us.

"Here, Mister Weasley!"

"Thank you, darling." He politely replied, taking the wand and restoring the potion bottle in a swift movement. His eyes peeked at me again; I could see the worry growing on him. "Y/n-"

"I'm gonna go wash my face." The words hastily left my mouth before I dashed off to the restroom.

I closed the door behind me and took a look at the mirror; my pupils were blown and my cheeks pink. I ran the tab and splashed the water on my face a few times until the potion's mild effect was gone and my mind clear.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that I was in love with George Weasley.

[cherienymphe]

Protect & Serve V (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, NON-CON, mentions of violence and murder and assault

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

~

When you woke up, you felt like you’d slept for days. Knowing Steve, and having no clue as to what he injected you with, that might be true. You had dry mouth, that much you could tell, and your head still felt like it weighed a ton. Peeling your eyes open was rather difficult, but when you did, you realized that you were in a different room from the one before.

You pushed yourself up to lean on your forearms, looking around and listening. The house was quiet, a far cry from the last time you were here. You guessed that all of Steve’s guests were gone, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. You didn’t know why you thought their presence would protect you when it wouldn’t. They had literally helped Steve recapture you after also watching your unconscious form be carried into his house to begin with. Maybe it was better that they were gone…

Now you could start formulating another escape without them around to catch you.

A stabbing pain struck you behind your eyes, and you squinted, bringing your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You cursed Steve to hell and back. Why had he given you the option of walking back with him when he was going to do what he wanted anyway? Did he get some sick pleasure out of it all?

Speaking of pleasure, you noted the soreness in between your thighs and wondered if Steve had done a lot more to you while you were out. He’d said that it wasn’t his style, but he couldn’t be trusted. You pressed your thighs together and winced, sitting up. Just as you considered what to do next, the bedroom door opened.

You sharply inhaled as Steve filled the doorway, heart rate picking up at the sight of him. Was it crazy that you were more terrified of him than you had been of your ex-husband? At least with Killian, you had grown to know what to expect. Steve had shattered every one of your expectations.

“You’re awake,” he said, stepping further into the room.

You didn’t know what to do, so you just stared at him as he approached. For your own sake, you needed to keep your eyes on him at all times. Escape was your top priority, and you had to think smart about it. He gripped your chin, turning your head to the side to gaze at your eyes, and hummed, clearly satisfied.

“You’ve been asleep for almost an entire day,” he informed you, grabbing your arm.

He helped you out of bed, and you let him. Your body was still fighting off whatever he gave you, and you stumbled. Steve was more than happy to catch you though, arm thrown around you, hand digging into your shoulder as he leaned you into his side.

He was patient as he helped you out of the room and down the stairs. The smell of food hit you, and you sniffed, stomach grumbling. Steve heard it and chuckled.

“I made breakfast,” he said, leading you into the kitchen.

A modest dining table was on the far side, and your eyes fell to the food laid upon it. You couldn’t trust him, having no idea as to what he wanted from you, so there was no telling what was in the food. However, you couldn’t afford to not eat. Steve turned his back after helping you sit down, and you glanced through the living room to look at the lake on the other side of the window. Getting across that lake was your best chance…

Too busy staring, you didn’t notice him approach until your hands were being handcuffed to the arms of the chair. You gasped, and he did the same with your ankles. Forgetting about your injury, you jerked your legs, only to cry out at the pain that traveled through your ankle. Steve hummed at that, sitting next to you.

“You gave Bucky and Sam hell. Thor too,” he added.

You watched as he picked up some scrambled eggs on a fork before bringing it to your lips. Realizing that you didn’t have much of a choice, you reluctantly parted them. The food tasted good enough, and he fed you again.

You licked your lips.

“You sound surprised,” you whispered, eyes meeting his.

A faint smirk was on his lips, and he chuckled.

“Not surprised…impressed. I like a fighter,” he said, reaching out to grab his glass of water.

He never broke his gaze from over the rim of the glass, and you blinked.

“…but I could tell that from the first moment I met you. So reluctant to accept a ride from a nice small-town cop-.”

“There isn’t anything nice about you,” you sneered.

Steve chuckled, nodding fondly.

“I suppose you’re right about that,” he agreed. “Nevertheless, the average person doesn’t pick up on that. Of course…you would…”

You glanced away as he fed you again.

“…tell me about him,” he eventually said.

You looked back to him with a frown. You knew who he was talking about, and your heart clenched. He pressed his elbows into the wood of the table, hands clasped together as he eyed you.

“Your ex-husband,” he elaborated.

You heaved a deep sigh, frustration coloring your tone.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know,” was his simple response.

You swallowed, a shiver climbing up your spine as you thought about the other blond man in your life.

“What…what do you want to know?” you wondered with a shrug.

He reached out to brush a finger down the side of your face, running it over your bottom lip.

“Tell me why you stayed,” he quietly demanded.

Figuring there was no harm in humoring him, you answered.

“I…was afraid. I had nowhere to go and…part of me…felt like I was being punished. Like I deserved it…”

“For what?”

“For leaving my family and friends behind,” you murmured. “For ignoring them for years…”

Steve nodded at that, pulling his hand away.

“I am sorry about your family. I meant that when I told you that. They were good people,” he replied.

You blinked. Of course, he had known them. How could he not? It didn’t sit right with you that someone like him had interacted with your family…especially while you weren’t around. You wondered how he behaved towards them, if he ever made any of them feel as uncomfortable as he did with you.

“The funerals were lovely. Was he the reason you didn’t go?”

You suddenly found it hard to swallow, and tears kissed your eyes as he brought that up. He reached out to brush a rogue one away, and you jerked away from him. Missing the funerals of your family was definitely your biggest regret. Every time you thought about it, your hate for Killian grew.

You didn’t have to answer because Steve already knew.

“Bucky told me that you thought he was the one at your house every night. He said that you had feared he would find you,” he said, making you frown at the mention of the brunette.

You looked down when his hand found yours, brushing circles into the skin with his thumb.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

You clenched your jaw, biting back what you wanted to say, and seeing the look on your face made Steve laugh. You looked up at him, gaze cold.

“I know what you must be thinking…that I won’t get away with this…”

He took another bite, leaning back in his chair as he eyed you smugly.

“…but I will. Hell, I’ve gotten away with worse,” he chuckled.

Your brow twitched, and you narrowed your eyes at him, recalling something that Wanda had said.

“Peggy?”

You watched the way his face fell, and you continued.

“Wanda said she’d just…left right after the breakup. I never thought that seemed her style…”

Your tone was accusatory, and apparently with good reason. Steve slowly exhaled, straightening up as he rubbed his hand over his chin, elbow pressed into the table as his eyes gazed at something you couldn’t see.

“Peggy…was an accident,” he admitted, and genuine remorse registered on his features.

Remorseful or not, your eyes still widened as he confirmed what you had initially suspected but brushed off, convinced that your paranoia was getting the best of you. Now, you knew the truth. You weren’t just sitting with a kidnapper, but you were sitting with a murderer too.

“You see, I started having my fun before I came here. I’d help out unsuspecting girls in need. Sometimes they were homeless…sometimes they just needed a ride home…to the store…”

Horror filled you as he spoke, and you started to realize that you weren’t dealing with an amateur.

“They’d get in, and I’d offer them a bottle of water I kept inside.”

Of course, they would. Steve Rogers looked like the poster boy for good Samaritans everywhere. Those soft blue eyes could convince anyone. Said eyes met yours, serious.

“They’d always accept. Either out of genuine thirst or just to avoid being rude, I don’t know. I didn’t care. They’d be knocked out within minutes…”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“…when I was done, I’d park at wherever they had wanted me to take them to. They’d eventually arouse, and I’d convince them that they had nodded off. None of them ever suspected, and if they did, what could they say?”

He rose an eyebrow.

“The friendly neighborhood cop, Officer Rogers, drugged and raped me?”

He scoffed, and you blinked away tears.

“…and Peggy?” you forced out.

Steve sighed.

“I got tired of the coldness and casualness of it all,” he said with a shrug. “I realized that I wasn’t getting any younger, and Peggy… She was so sweet.”

He sadly shook his head.

“Like every other woman in this town, she was itching at the chance to have me. But unlike the rest, she wasn’t bold about it. She was coy, and I liked that. It wasn’t long before I had her in the palm of my hands,” he chuckled at that. “Literally.”

Disgust churned in your stomach.

“She was everything I thought she’d be. Except…she wasn’t.”

When he looked at you again, his eyes were hard, face taut with tension as he recalled whatever memory you hadn’t been privy to.

“Peggy had plans,” he dragged out, voice low as he took another sip. “She wanted to achieve all of these great things…see the world…leave me.”

He huffed.

“We fought. Things got…physical, and the next thing I know, my hands are around her neck.”

You swallowed, tears spilling over now.

“Jesus,” he quietly scoffed. “I didn’t even realize until I let her go and she just…dropped.”

More tears fell, and he finally took notice. He reached over to wipe them, and you flinched.

“That’s right,” he hummed. “You grew up with her.”

He moved to feed you some more, but you shook your head, appetite lost. He let the fork drop before leaning back in his seat. He turned to look though the living room, eyes roaming over the lake through the window.

“She’s in that lake, you know. I think about her every time I look out onto it,” he quietly said, more to himself than you.

You sniffed, throat tight and chest burning. Fear gripped you, and you wondered if that was going to be your fate. Steve suddenly moved his chair closer to you, and you cried harder. He shushed you, reaching for you to wipe your face with his thumbs.

“That won’t be you. I promise,” he said as if reading your mind, hands resting on the sides of your face.

You shook your head.

“Why me?” you quietly asked him, no longer able to keep it in.

You had to know.

“I could see how broken you were,” he hummed, eyes roaming over your face. “…and I thought that I could fix you. That maybe we could fix each other, hmm? I give you the safety and security and love you’ve been craving for years, and you give me what I want.”

You frantically blinked, eyes searching his face.

“I could see that you wanted me too. Deep down, anyway. After all, I was a good guy. I’m sure Wanda told you something like that, didn’t she? That I would be good for you…and you had thought about it, considered it. I could see it in your eyes that night,” he continued. “Wondering what it would be like to be with a genuinely good guy…”

“I wasn’t ready,” you mumbled.

He took a deep breath.

“I know, but unfortunately for you… I don’t have much patience. At least not when it comes to something I know I want.”

“What…what do you want from me?” you finally wondered.

He let out a breath, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip as he stood, towering over you.

“I want you to look at me with complete adoration as I come inside of you. I want to come inside of you every night, calling you wife while I fill you with my children. I want to make love to you when you’re glowing and round with my child, but…right now…”

He reached for your plate again, bringing some more eggs to your lips.

“I want you to finish your food.”

Too stunned by his admission, you allowed him to feed you, fear gripping your heart at what would happen if you didn’t escape.

When you weren’t locked away in the room, and when you weren’t handcuffed at the table, Steve pretty much allowed you free reign. He was at your side at all times, of course, closely hovering. You figured it was best to seem cooperative. Of course, you didn’t think Steve was gullible enough to believe that you had accepted your situation. You both knew that you were just biding your time. It was only a matter of thinking of a way to escape before he thought of a way to stop you before you even tried.

You feared what he would do to keep you here…feared what he would do if he caught you trying to leave. You thought of Peggy, of how she had simply brought up the idea of leaving and had died for it. Steve’s desires weighed on your mind, and you knew that you only had so much time before he started to go through with them.

That second morning, you had woken up to the feel of a hard chest pressed against your back, a thick arm curling over your waist. It had taken you a moment to understand that the second room you had woken up in was his room. You had jerked in his grip, attempting to get away from him, but your movements had aroused him…in more ways than one.

His hold tightened, pulling you closer, and he groaned as sleep began to leave him. You could feel him poking against you, hard and hot, and you had panicked. You fought to get away from him, and he swiftly pushed you to lie on your back, settling in between your legs. Your hands, having attempted to push him away, were pinned between your bodies as he kissed you.

You gasped against his mouth, and his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the inside of your mouth. His arms were pressed down on either side of you, caging you in, and you felt like you were suffocating. Steve paid no mind to your aversion, moaning against your trembling lips. One of his hands reached down to wrap around your wrists, dragging them above you until they were pinned just below the headboard.

His other hand slid down your side, kneading your skin as it descended. He ground himself against you, his hardened member poking at you through his shorts. You only had on a nightgown that he’d left outside of the shower the night before. You had briefly wondered if it belonged to Peggy. This very thing was a pressing concern of yours when you noticed the absence of underwear.

His free hand moved to make a home in between your legs, fingers brushing against and poking at you. You bit his tongue, hard, and you tasted blood. He ripped his face away from you with a hiss, and your satisfaction was short lived when he shoved two fingers inside of you to the hilt.

Your chest arched, a choked sound escaping your lips as he roughly fingered you. You turned your head away when he leaned back down, and his lips met your cheek.

“Do that again,” he whispered, lips moving against your skin. “…and I’ll make you pay for it.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his fingers glide within you more easily now. He hummed, mouth trailing down to your neck, sucking on the skin. You squirmed beneath him, trying to fight off the pleasure that was being forced on you. Your legs kicked around him, and he widened his, pushing his knees underneath your thighs to restrict your movement.

You pushed your wrists against his hands as he added a third finger, stretching you out. A moan threatened to bubble out of your throat, but you swallowed it down, whimpering instead. Steve wasn’t pleased with that. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, thumb coming up to brush against your swollen bud, and you whimpered again.

His hands tightened around your wrists as he sped up, almost painfully so, and he grinded against you. His lips attached themselves to your neck, pulling the skin in between his teeth, laving his tongue over you. He curled his fingers, and a broken moan finally slipped from your lips. He did it again and was met with the same result.

You turned your face as much into the pillow as you possible could, but Steve’s lips sought out your own, covering them in another kiss. He swallowed your moans, groaning into your mouth as your hips bucked against his hand. The hand that was holding your wrists down moved to intertwine with one of yours. You quickly pushed your free hand against his stomach, and when that didn’t work, you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

Your efforts were useless, Steve effortlessly working his fingers into you again and again.

“Stop,” you finally begged against his lips.

“Come for me, and I will,” he roughly replied.

He flicked his thumb over your bundle of nerves again, and you fell apart beneath him. He pulled back ever so slightly, your moans permeating through the air as he looked down at you. A few of his blond strands tickled your own forehead, and his nose kept brushing against yours as he worked you through your climax.

He looked down, eyes focused on the way you clenched around his fingers, hand a mess. Your chest heaved, breath shaky as he tightened his hold on your hand. You’d just woken up, but you felt tired all over again. He finally pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and humming.

“Good girl,” he murmured as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

He rolled off of you, and you caught sight of the large tent in his shorts. You looked away, hurriedly pulling your nightgown back down, disgust coursing through you. You didn’t move as he strode into the bathroom and turned the shower on. You only did so when low moans reached you minutes later, and you moved to exit the room, but it was locked. You noticed what looked like a key pad on the wall next to the light switch. You hadn’t noticed it the day before.

Realizing that you’d have to sit here and listen to him get himself off, you sat back down, covering your ears. You were still in that position when he finally exited, a towel loosely hanging on his lips. You watched as he walked into the closet and came back out with clothes that were clearly meant for you. Again, you wondered if these belonged to Peggy. He ushered you into the bathroom before you could give it any more thought.

Your time in the bathroom was quick. Your quick search of the cabinets turned up nothing useful for you. No type of medication or sedatives or anything. You would have loved nothing more to spend all day in the bathroom, but you didn’t want to give Steve the opportunity to check on you and see you naked. The clothes fit perfectly, and it was then that you decided they weren’t Peggy’s.

The idea that Steve found clothes that were perfectly in your size made your stomach churn.

He was waiting for you when you got out, and he reached for you as soon as you were near. One hand went to the back of your neck, holding you beside him while the other went to what you thought was the keypad. You watched in awe as he pressed his thumb against it, and the pad flashed green just before he reached to open the door.

“Buck and Sam are coming by later,” he told as he guided you down the stairs. “I don’t think I need to remind you not to do anything stupid, do I?”

You shook your head.

“Anyway, just in case…”

He stopped before the door of the basement. Apprehension filled you as he opened it and guided you in, his chest brushing your back as you walked. You walked down some stairs, stopping at another door. This one was sturdier and had a bar that fell across it. You watched as Steve lifted the bar and pushed you in.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet before straightening yourself. You could feel Steve behind you as you looked around, and your heart dropped. It was a room, furnished with a single bed, a toilet, and a sink. You swallowed in fear, taking a step back, recoiling when you bumped into him.

Steve wrapped his arm around you, lips at your ear.

“I don’t want to have to put you in here, but I will if you force me to. Is that understood?”

You gave him a shaky nod. His hand closed around your throat, and you gasped, reaching up to grab his arm as he lifted you, your toes grazing the floor.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispered.

“I understand,” you shakily replied, and satisfied, he let you go.

He spun you around, one hand on your jaw as he tilted your head, lips brushing your cheek and then your ear.

“Be good for me…and I’ll be good to you,” he quietly told you.

He didn’t wait for a response before guiding you up the stairs. You reached the hallway again just as a knock sounded on the front door. He pulled you along, keeping you at his side as he went to answer it.

Sam and Bucky had grins on their faces and greetings on their lips when Steve opened the door. However, Bucky’s face fell when his eyes met yours. You took in the red marks on the side of his face, and you couldn’t keep the smug expression off of yours even if you tried. He let them in, hand sliding around your waist as he closed the door.

You flinched, and he tightened his arm around you. Bucky looked over his shoulder at you, lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“Like the new look?” he wondered, gesturing to his face.

You simply looked at him, and both Sam and Steve chuckled.

“Maybe if you weren’t slacking…” Sam’s words trailed off as they entered the kitchen, but Steve pushed you towards the living room.

He pressed his lips to your forehead before pushing you down onto the couch. You swallowed, watching as he joined Sam and Bucky in the kitchen. Sam’s eyes were on you, and he turned to Steve.

“She’s quiet,” you heard him say.

“No. She’s not quiet,” Steve replied, calculating eyes meeting yours before he ran them over you.

He smirked.

“She’s smart,” he argued.

He looked away, and so did you, eyes looking through the backdoor to roam over the lake. If only you could get to the lake. When the time was right…

Sam and Bucky didn’t stay for long. Steve had waved them goodbye with one arm securely around your waist. You watched them get back into the car, the police cruiser, and your stomach churned, still in disbelief that the supposed good guys were nothing but scum.

You wanted to know how they could be okay with what Steve was doing. You wanted to know how they justified it, and unable to keep it in, you asked him. He didn’t respond right away, instead heaving a sigh as he pressed one hand into the wall beside your head, caging you in.

“After Peggy, I went back to my…casual encounters…”

You frowned at how he worded it, and he chuckled at that.

“…not often like I did before, but just enough to satisfy me… They caught me one day…”

He smiled as if he were thinking back on a fond memory, and you were almost sorry you’d asked.

“They wanted in on it too.”

Your eyes widened as they met his gaze, and your lips parted as you registered what he was saying. He reached up to brush his thumb over your trembling lips, his own parting.

“Eventually Thor got roped in too. His brother Loki prefers to sit out on the festivities, but he doesn’t mind. I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to them,” he added. “Loki is a lawyer, and Thor is a cop in the next county over. They come over from time to time. Usually for a game.”

Now you were positive that you were going to be sick, and Steve continued.

“Thor wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous about it when he’s here…and the boss caught on one day. We’re the best cops in town though. We keep these people safe and crime is practically nonexistent, so… So long as we’re discreet, he looks the other way,” he told you.

You turned away from him, tears in your eyes. He pressed his lips to your cheek, inhaling.

“Do you see, now? You have no one to run to. No one will help you,” he whispered darkly, hand landing on your shoulder, digging in, the other trailing to cup your ass. “We run this town…”

He pressed a leg in between yours, and you pushed against him, but he was faster. He grabbed your wrists, slamming them against the wall as he forced his mouth on yours. You kicked at his legs, but it was hard to do when one of his separated yours.

He pulled you away from the wall, lips never parting from yours as he turned and forced you back. You stumbled and tripped over your feet, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. When that didn’t work, you brought your knee up, and Steve pulled back with a grunt.

Slipping out of his arms, you ran towards the backdoor, but his hands in your hair stopped you. You screamed as your scalp protested his tight hold, and he yanked you back into his chest, one hand closing around your throat. His chest heaved against your back, harsh breaths in your ear.

“Remember what I said,” he whispered, deep voice threatening. “Be good for me…and I’ll be good to you…”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until he walked you forward towards the couch. Your face crumbled as he pushed you down, one hand sliding up the thin dress he’d given you to wear. His hand grazed your bare slit, and you cried harder.

As awful as Killian had been, he’d never forced himself on you. It was crazy to think that in all the years you’d experienced violence at his hand, none of it had ever been sexual. That was a line that he had never crossed.

Steve flipped you, and you immediately fought against him as he ripped at your dress. He caught your wrists, holding them away as he dipped down to wrap his lips around one breast, bud hardened from the cool air in the house. He moved his head to give the other the same attention, and you cried out, pushing against him.

He suddenly jerked your wrist, and you cried out, pain traveling down your arm. He looked up at you, eyes cold as both desire and anger warred within them.

“I will break both of them,” he harshly said, making you freeze.

You couldn’t swim across the lake with a broken wrist, let alone two. He let you go, hands hovering over your own for a while to make sure you would behave. Pleased, he swiftly undressed, and you looked away from him, eyes on the ceiling. He tsk’d, reaching for your chin to turn your head.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered.

Too afraid to defy him, you watched as he grabbed your ankles, spreading and lifting your legs as he moved closer. He was hard and throbbing, bigger than Killian was, and you shook beneath him. There was no warning, no teasing… Steve slid into you with one thrust.

Having been wholly unprepared, you yelped in pain, head falling back on the arm of the couch. He rested your legs on his shoulders, leaning over you as he forced your knees to your shoulders. All of your movement was restricted, and the only thing you could do was press your hands into his waist. A few tears escaped your eyes, and Steve kissed them away.

His breath was shaky, blond hair hanging into his forehead as he savored the feel of you wrapped around him. He rested his forearms on the arm of the couch, caging you in, and you felt incredibly hot being surrounded by him. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth before moving them down to your jaw, nipping at the skin there.

He slowly pulled his hips back until nothing but the tip of him remained inside of you. He was slow to thrust too, and you squirmed, nails digging into his waist. The position you were in didn’t allow for you to do anything other than lay there and take it. Steve gradually began to pick up his pace, and the couch trembled from the force of his thrusts.

You wanted to close your eyes so badly, but you were afraid of what he’d do if you did. His lips never stayed in one place, kissing every part of your face that they could. Occasionally, his hand would brush over your cheek or shoulder. Sometimes he’d reach down and flick his fingers over you. Unable to do anything, you had no choice but to accept the pleasure he was forcing on you.

His skin slapped against yours in the quiet house, and you whimpered as he rested his forehead against yours, blue eyes boring into your own. As quiet as you tried to be, he could see the pleasure on your face, and the corner of his lips curved upwards. He kissed you, slow and soft, and you hated it. His lips didn’t part from yours as his thrusts grew erratic and choppy.

Too many things were happening at once, it was too intense for you, and you turned your head. Steve snarled at that and fisted his hand in your hair, yanking your head towards him again. He kissed you harder this time, slamming into you as he did so. Tears streamed down your face as you felt your stomach tightening, toes curling while you clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he murmured into your mouth. “Come for me…”

You pressed your nails harder into his skin, trying to fight it off, but it was no use. Steve didn’t relent in his movements, and soon, you were coming around him. Your climax struck you like a punch, stomach aching as it tightened, core fluttering around Steve’s unyielding cock. You slapped your hands against him as he fucked you through it, tears in your eyes again.

“Be good for me,” he reminded you, and you shook your head.

You reached in between you to press your hands to his stomach, turning your head away. Steve’s breathing was harsh above you, chest heaving as he thrust into your soaking core.

“Steve,” you begged, pushing against him.

“You’ve got another in you, I know you do.”

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he threw you head first into another, and your mind spun as a choked moan slipped out of your mouth. You couldn’t swallow it down even if you tried, and Steve groaned. One of your hands was on his chest, the other on his shoulder, but he wouldn’t budge. Your legs trembled, and you involuntarily closed them as you tried to stem the oversensitivity, inadvertently locking them around his neck.

“Steve... Steve, please,” you begged, out of breath.

His lips found yours again, and he growled into your mouth.

“One more,” he whispered. “Give me one more.”

You tried to duck your head, but he followed, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Give me one more…”

Stars appeared behind your eyes as you came for a third time, choking his cock. Steve let out a low moan as you gripped him, the sound drawing out into a groan. You could feel the mess you were making, but Steve didn’t mind as he pressed kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your neck…

“Look how good you are for me. Such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, spilling into you.

You shuddered at the feel, and Steve fucked his cum into you, hissing. He sat up to move your legs off of him, and relief filled you as they fell limply around him. He pressed his chest against yours again, hands cupped underneath your thighs as he lazily moved within you.

“See how good I can make you feel…” he said, lips grazing yours. “…when you’re good for me.”

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox  @darkficreposter   @mcudarklibrary @captainchrisstan @nickyl316h @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @readermia @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21  @stargazingfangirl18   @lou-la-lou @izzfizzh @thatgirly81 @autty0314 @hinata7346 @lokislastlove @honorarytenenbaum @void-hoechlin  @autty0314​ 

[softowlhours]

by the lakeside

bokuto koutarou(horror!AU)

it should’ve been the perfect summer getaway. you were both in need of some down time away from your busy careers. but things get a little eerie when there’s a voice in your head that isn’t yours and you find out that you’re not alone in that pristine white house on the hill.

genre: horror, angst, fluff if you squint

tw: descriptions of drowning, asphyxiation, strangulation. suggestive sexual situations.

a/n: i promise i’ll proofread this later and also write an epilogue but until then please enjoy this story it took me way longer than necessary to write. i’ve read it so many times that i don’t find it scary anymore. but i hope you do! :)

word count: 6k

my body feels like an empty shell sometimes, a carcass I am dragging around. when I look into the mirror I don’t recognise myself. i don’t recognise him, either.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

bokuto’s hair gleams silver in the glorious morning light. wind blows through your own strands as you zip past the lush green meadows. you could see the sheep dotted on the grassy planes like puffs of pure white clouds. far away, there stood giant mountains. their high peaks looked like they were breaching the baby blue ceiling of the sky. you only notice your gorgeous surroundings with half a mind, because your eyes keep trailing back to the man besides you. you admire his profile, the sharp slope of his nose, the chiselled cheek bones and jaw line. you zero in on the plush of his lips and it is then that you notice his teasing grin.

‘admiring the view?’ he asks.

‘mhmm. a sight for my sore eyes.’ and he truly is. your gaze drops a little lower. his toned chest peeks from where the buttons of his shirt have come undone. his biceps flex and strain against the fabric as he manoeuvres the steering wheel. he looks like a movie star, straight out of the golden age of film. the red vintage convertible he drives only adds on to your day dream. you can’t help but feel like a heroine starring in your own block buster romance. heat rises to the tip of his ears and the back of his neck at your shameless appraisal. bokuto notices the way lust is barely concealed on your face. he fucking loved the way you looked at him, like he was the guiding star you were always attuned to. the one for whom you’d always search for in an endless night sky.

‘your eyes are sore from staring at your computer screen all day everyday.’ he  ignores your attempts at flirting,  and instead addresses what has been eating away at his mind lately. he’s been worried about you. you often called him out for pushing himself to the point of breaking when it came to volleyball. but, you never noticed how you were inclined to do the same when it came to you own work; buried under papers and ink, day after day as your work ethic kept you confined to your study room. you being a best selling author, him a pro volleyball player; you truly were the power couple worthy of everyone’s envy and admiration, but your lives could get stressful at times.

‘kou, I’m sorry ‘m dragging you away from your routine. the game season starts in two months. you should be hitting some balls right now.’ you withdraw your hand, and he instantly misses your touch. you appear a little crestfallen as you opt to idly fiddle with the lace bordering your sundress.

‘hey,’ his voice is silky, tone slightly chastising. ‘don’t apologise. this was my idea anyways. we need some time away. from everything.’

‘you know that,’ he continues, ‘i’ll never be too busy for you, right? it makes me feel lonely when you just withdraw from me... shut me out.’ his face eyebrows furrow a little. ‘for you I’ll always carve out  time.’

bokuto had a way with words that always left you stupefied. they weren’t embellished and gaudy, like yours. all you ever did was spin fairy tales. Yes they were beautiful, but they were also false. unlike you, he always spoke from his heart, and you wonder if that was why his sentiments without fail reached others.

‘oi- don’t fall asleep.’

‘i’m not sleeping!’ you snap out of your reverie. ‘i’m sorry i… never realised you’d feel that way’ puffing out a sigh, you lean back lazily on the leather seat. ‘i haven’t been feeling much inspiration lately, and when i do write i just hate every word of it.’ 

‘maybe I should retire,’ you muse. ‘never write a word again. let people remember me as the genius author I’m not.’

‘but you are a genius writer!’ bokuto insists. ‘give it a fifty years and they’ll be teaching your work as a part of the curriculum. i’ve never read anything better!’

‘that’s because you rarely read!’

‘i am a picky reader,’ bokuto shrugs, cocking an eyebrow as he looks at you haughtily. ‘so congratulations that your writing actually piqued my interest.’

snorting, you pinch his thigh.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

it’s almost evening by the time you drive past a small sleepy town. the few houses have their curtains drawn. there’s a small supermarket and a polyclinic but you notice how the streets are mainly empty, save for a couple of children who play seven tiles on the roadside. fifteen minutes and more grassy meadows and sheep later, you arrive at what looks like the edge of the world. surely you’re being a little dramatic calling it that, but the road winds up the gentle slope of a hill and on top of it sits a pristine white house. bokuto pulls up the car in front of massive wrought iron gates, a chain holds it shut.

‘okay, but when nori said ‘vacation home’, this is not what I had in mind. Is he actually the heir to a conglomerate or something?’ you observe, definitely appalled.

‘uh- knowing his stingy ass, i’m not sure?’ bokuto sounds and looks puzzled as well, so you know he wasn’t expecting it either. he reconfirms the address konoha had messaged him. ‘do we climb the gates? because he never gave me a key or anything. he said the place has a caretaker who’d-’

‘how can I help?’

your heart leaps to your throat, and both you and bokuto snap your heads to your left to look at a man who stands on bokuto’s side of the car. neither of you had seen him approaching and it  was as if he were a magician, materialising out of thin air. old, sinewy and dressed sharply in a suit, he’s hunching to be at your eye levels. upon closer look the fabric of his clothes looked worn out and they fray at the edges. his hair is slicked back and he wears gold rimmed spectacles, its lenses the shape of half moons. his smile is serene, demeanour dignified but there’s shrewdness in his tone.

‘um- hi.’ bokuto greets recovering first. ‘i am konoha’s friend. i assume you’ve been expecting us?’

a beat passes.

‘indeed. allow me to show you around.’

bokuto parks the car under a shed close to the gates and you walk down the stretch of the garden. it is immaculately kept, and roses of all colours bloom neatly in rows. a giant sycamore tree stands close to the house, its branches brushing the roof. when you stand on the porch of the house the gate seems miles away. bokuto wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side. he sneaks a soft kiss under your left ear as the caretaker opens up the door for you.

the inside of the house is splendidly furnished and it leaves you awestruck. simple but gorgeous, a modern castle of sorts. a cream colored leather sofa sits in the centre of the living room, the rug in front of it is white and fluffy. There is a box television- the kinds popular decades ago, and you wonder if it actually works or if it’s just for show. the chandelier above is a million crystals and an open kitchen makes up the far end of the living room. a stair case winds its way up. but, what truly catches your eye are the massive french doors which open up to the stretch of a green lawn. calling it a backyard would be a bit inadequate; for the trimmed grass meets the surface of a great lake, its water like molten lava reflecting the evening sky. you can see the outline of ducks waddling away, probably on their way home. the lake stretches out for almost a mile and after that you see nothing but the thicket of the woods. it is almost the end of july, so while the days are warm, the temperatures tend to dip quite a bit at night. you shiver a little and snuggle closer into bokuto’s side. the caretaker, in his monotonous voice,  explains to you how your room shall be upstairs,  the one to the right. there were four other rooms which were mostly empty and locked for the sake of easy maintenance. you tune him out when he moves on to the instructions regarding the heating and locking systems.

you’re entranced by the house, and standing there in its magnanimity you feel like you’ve been drawn into a picture book. you can imagine breakfasts every morning on the front porch. afternoons spent lolling on the grass besides the lake. you would keep a vase filled with freshly cut roses from the garden, in the centre of the kitchen table. spend the nights sitting in front of the fire place when winter laid its thick blanket of white snow outside. your high flying careers felt like a distant dream. your laptop back home could collect all the dust it wanted to. you could just stay here forever wrapped up in each others arms.

i’m lonely. i hate how you’re always away from home because of volleyball.

bokuto notices your distant look , the slightest way your lips are set in a grimace. it tugs on his heartstrings. makes it difficult for him to breathe.

bringing his mouth close to your ear, he whispers your name bringing you out of your head. you blink, biting back the ugly realisation that had just intruded your brain. you had never felt that way before, you had forced yourself not to. it was long ago when you had decided that you’d never make him choose between you and volleyball. or maybe that loneliness was something you’d always felt. but because you were afraid of it; you had hidden it under your skin, in between your bones.

if i could, i’d steal you away and keep you all to myself. in a cage just for me and you.

too afraid that he’ll somehow read your mind, you step away from him, disoriented by the venomous voice of your subconscious as you look around for the old man.

‘he left while you were zoning out, princess. said he’s going home.’ he pulls your back against his chest, long fingers begin snaking up a well known trail up your thighs. your cute little sundress does little to stop him. ‘he’ll be back by noon tomorrow, to tend to the garden and all that.’ bokuto speaks in between the kisses he’s placing along the side of your neck. ‘apparently, he lives in that town we drove by earlier.’

‘mhmm.’

‘want to live in a house like this someday.’ he asks you, his voice hushed.  you rest your head back on his chest, as love and lust pools in your stomach and clouds your thoughts.

i’m scared someday you’ll leave me behind.

“me. you. maybe a dog. maybe… children?” he continues and your eyes widen at that.

‘you want all that?’

‘with you? yes I want everything. i’ll take everything that you can give me.’

liar.

you turn around and pull bokuto into a heated kiss. his chapped lips meld into yours and your teeth clack a little from the suddenness of your movement. by now it is completely dark outside and the living room is dimly lit by a lamp. bokuto seems unaware, too lost in you to be notice space and time. but, a weird sensation surrounds you. you feel the whisper of a cool breeze, a murmur disturbing the stillness of the house. with one hand, bokuto cups your behind. the fingers of his other rake through your hair. it’s a buzz now, like a thousand bees hovering over your heads. you feel dazed, you’re needy, you’re confused.

there’s someone else here. the two of you are not alone.

‘ow,’ you yelp in pain.

bokuto jumps away from you, but his hands are badly tangled in your hair.

‘I told you to tie your hair in the car!’ he is laughing. ‘it’s a nest in here!’

the buzzing dies down. the silence that follows is deafening. you wonder if you’re delusional with the lack of sleep.

as bokuto carefully weaves his fingers out he places a chaste kiss on the little crease in between your eyebrows. he finds you so cute, it physically hurts him.  

‘don’t worry, babygirl,’ his voice drops a few octaves. ‘windswept looks sexy on you.’

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

later that night as you are lie under the drapes and canopies, you notice how the bedroom is much like the rest of the house- fit for royalty. bokuto snores softly, but you lie awake with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is a mind-numbing rhythm. a thin sheet of sweat covers your bodies and you try to ignore the wetness in between your legs. you should probably change the sheets as well, but your body refuses to move and you don’t know where to find any new ones. sleep evades you so you let Bokuto’s question roll around in your mind. a forever with him. of course you would say yes. there was nothing more that you wanted than that. but the dread from earlier which you had managed to keep at bay with lust, slowly begins to resettle in the pit of your stomach.

he promises you an eternity now, but he’ll leave you behind soon.

you somehow clamber out of bed, making sure not to awaken bokuto. picking up his shirt from where it lies on floor, you put it on. the bedroom has identical doors from the living room, made of glass, and they open onto a small balcony. you draw open the lacey curtains and step out into the chilly night air. the sight that awaits you makes you gasp.  a fine mist rolls over the water, but the lake itself is still.  its surface is like taut cellophane. beyond the lake where the woods begin, it is pitch black darkness and you cannot tell where the woods meet the moonless sky. it’s a new moon night, but where you expect to see the stars is an empty hollowness. its eerily silent. too silent. no insects trill. no wind blows. you stare intently into the water for so long that you swear you see something lurking just underneath its surface.  the mist that hovers slowly inches towards the house, coiling like endless bony fingers.

that pool of velvety darkness, i wonder what it’d feel like against my skin.

come to me then. feel it for yourself. your voice, no, her voice purrs.

you whirl around to see bokuto. he’s standing a feet away from you, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

‘whoah! easy,’ bokuto exclaims, surprised by your jumpiness. no way it had been him who had spoken moments ago. ‘what are you doing outside?’ he asks. ‘i nearly got a heart attack when I saw someone standing out here.’ 

you look back towards the lake, and you’re utterly confused. the mist seems to have instantly vanished. you can even hear the water now, softly undulating. it appears akin to a creased sheet of silk.

had you been hallucinating? dreaming with your eyes open?

you fight down the growing panic and instead walk over to him, squishing his cheeks. you softly kiss his pout. ‘aww. baby’s scared?’ you coo.

he grumbles something about you catching a cold but tugs you inside and you decide to let it all go. you’re tired and tomorrow will be a new day.

had you turned around, you’d notice how the stars were glittering like cold hard gems in the night sky.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you were pleasantly lazing about in the sun. the lake was a glittering blue and the woods looked benign during the day. they weren’t as dense as they appeared to be in the absence of light. from where you lay, the house looks like an entity of its own. imposing and regal. bokuto is dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweatpants as he plays around witha volleyball, tossing and spiking it all by his lonely self. you didn’t remember seeing him pack a volleyball, but then again somehow he always seemed to miraculously have a one at his disposal. today,  he hasn’t gelled his hair up in its usual style, so it flops onto his  forehead in a way you wished he’d leave it more often.

‘y/n! nice receive!’ he hollers at you.

he spikes the ball aiming straight for your stomach and you somehow manage to block his assault. thank god he hadn’t used a quarter of the strength he usually puts into his spikes.

your strong and annoying man.

‘you trying to murder me or what?’

he pulls you up to your feet. ‘i’ll be teaching you how to spike, drama queen. it’s insane how you’ve been with me for all these years and haven’t learnt a thing or two about volleyball. people would die for a one on one training session with me.’ he brags as he fetches the ball from where it had rolled off to.

you try to copy his motions, but what he can effortlessly pull off is an impossible feat for you. you send the ball upwards and jump as you try to match your timing to spike it. but before you can hit the ball it lands on your head.

bokuto is losing his shit, doubling over with laughter. and you try to look angry but end up giggling with him.

‘i give up!’ you complain. plus my boobs jiggle since i’m not wearing a sports bra,’ 

‘babe, thats kinda the point!’ he beams.

a perfect spike lands on his face.

‘owww, that’s foul play, y/n! ’ he yells. rubbing his nose, he walks over to you.

‘you should be punished!’ he scolds you, but places a kiss on your temple. his hands wander downwards to unzip your dress. he lets it fall to the ground. you know where this is headed. you think he’s going to kiss you so you close your eyes and lean towards him but before you can react, he’s bending down and suddenly you’re being lifted. he has you over his shoulders and your peals of laughter warm his heart. he hadn’t heard that sound in a while.

bokuto marches straight into the lake and dumps you in. the water is cool and refreshing, just as you had imagined it. it’s shallow enough so you’re chest deep in the water when your feet are planted at the bottom. his body glistens with dampness, hair a floppy wet mess. he was so beautiful, that even though it was irrational you felt a little bit shy. you’re splashing each other with water, the atmosphere’s light and bubbly with amusement. bokuto tries to catch you but you slip out of his reach. he is being his loud and  dramatic self as he falls face down into the water, complaining as he comes up with his eyes screwed shut. 

‘i swear i’d rather be blinded by your beauty than this water.’

you shake you head, feigning disdain and then you’re swimming away from him, towards the safety of the house. it must almost be noon, and you vaguely remember its time for the care taker to come around. you did not want to be seen in your wet underwear. bokuto calls out to you, apologising. there is water in your ears, it laps all around you as you swim. it dulls all sound and every other sense until the only thing you hear is your thumping heart. when you come up for air, you can see the blue sky, when your face is in the water you can see the stones and pebbles littering the bottom.

but, when you come up for air again, the sky is overcast. laden with dense gray clouds.

the water runs icy, lead flows through your veins. your body is sinking like a ship. it feels like you’re trying to move through viscous jelly. when you try to pull up for air you cannot break through, the surface traps you like its the cellophane you remember seeing the night before. a tight grip on your waist, abruptly pulls you under. your flailing hands try to grasp at nothing in particular. you wonder if its bokuto just messing around, but you know it isn’t. you don’t feel his presence anywhere. your fingers suddenly entangle into something. your eyes burn when you try to open them and look. jet black strands of hair, a bone white face, a mouth that is open like a gaping wound. you scream and nothing but gurgles and air bubbles escape you. you try to pull back but your hands are stuck in the weedlike hair. Funny you think of the evening before, when bokuto’s fingers had entangled in your messy hair the same way.

‘kou…koutaro!’ you try calling for him. you hear your disembodied voice, feel the water flood your mouth, your nose. but you feel all alone with that woman straight out of nightmares. fear has you in its grip, your minds a mush.

you hate him so damn much. you hate him, you hate him, you HATE him.  a voice repeats the same words in your head. you wonder if it sounds like your own or someone else’s. you cannot tell the two apart.

you feel a hand wrap around your arm, its large and warm and it feels like home. as it drags you out of the water the ashen face seems to quiver and distort. her eyes flicker open. they roll in their sockets but when they fixate on you, you see eyes just like your own. but they are transparent like marbles; burning with betrayal and accusation.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you wake up with a start to screams piercing the air. they are shrill and blood curdling. your hands are on your ears as you try to block out the sound but it only gets louder. it takes you a moment to realise that the screaming had been you. bokuto holds you in his arms, you can feel him shaking underneath your palms that grapple at his back.

he’s crying.

no! why is your bokuto crying? you pull away a little just enough to look at him, but the way his features are twisted in melancholy punctures a hole through your heart.

‘y/n, babe… babe,’ his lips quiver stealing away speech but he forces himself to speak. ‘ i looked everywhere in the water but I couldn’t find you. you were swimming and then you just stopped. i thought you were fooling around but you were down there for too long. so i come over but... I couldn’t see you anywhere at first. i panicked! holy shit... i was panicking.’ he shifts away from you, an arms length away. leaning back on the sofa, he stares up at the ceiling. ‘You weren’t even struggling, just stopped moving. Do you remember what happened?’ bokuto drags a hand down his face. he’s visibly distressed.

‘i don’t know what happened,’ you croack. ‘it felt like I was stuck. my feet wouldn’t come lose. as if someone was there with me in the water, holding me down…’ a sob escapes you.

bokuto pales a little at your description. but there had been no one but the two of you in the water. hell he hadn’t even seen any fishes.

he had pulled you under in the first place hadn’t he. there’s no one here but the two of you.

you remember not being alone in the water. you remember the heaviness. but nothing else.

bokuto opens his mouth to say something, but you cannot concentrate. the urge is too strong. before you can think, before you can answer. you are bending over and puking your guts out.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you spend the rest of the day, clinging to bokuto. and he doesn’t mind. he seems to be craving that constant feeling of your skin on his. something to remind him that you were okay, that you were here now. he makes his way around the kitchen with you stuck to him like a little koala.

“sit down on that chair just for a minute, y/n. i can’t find the plates!” he tries to loosen your chokehold on him but you only tighten it and bokuto booms out a laugh.

‘i swear you’re lucky you’re cute.”  

‘just consider this weight training.’

bokuto had put together a light meal. you reckoned you’d be unable to stomach anything too heavy.

‘we were supposed to be having fun. i feel like i’ve ruined everything.’ you mumble gloomily. you’re sitting on the chairs you pulled up around the kitchen island. a make shift dining table.

‘it’s okay. its enough to just be together.’

‘oh no been away from you for a five whole minutes.’ your expression is of mock worry as you rush over onto his lap. you immediately bury your head in the crook of his neck, his familiar scent calms you down. he chuckles at your antics.

‘do you think we can just go home?’ you ask apprehensively, still feeling bad about having spoilt your perfect little getaway.  ‘i don’t feel like staying here anymore.’

‘sure, baby girl .’ bokuto replies in a heartbeat, and you wonder if he feels the same unease in remaining here any longer.

‘we can leave tomorrow morning.’ he suggests. ‘it might be a bit too late to leave now. plus, caretaker-san didn’t even show up today.’

‘is it okay to just leave?,’ you ask.

from where bokuto sits on the dining table in the kitchen, he can see the doors in the living room that open up to the porch. it’s around three in the afternoon. the weather was beginning to turn awfully gloomy.

clouds slowly fill the sky eclisping the sun that had shined all day. it leaves everything in shades of gray.

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

you wake up alone in bed. the remnants of an eerie dream still lingers in your mind. you had been combing your hair, which was unusually thick, dark and long. you kept brushing the silky smooth strands, on and on and on, until they started coming loose in your hands. shuddering as you recall it, you turn around to see the wall clock read nine p.m. where was kou? at some point you had fallen asleep although you did not remember coming upstairs to the bedroom. he must’ve carried you from where you and him had been lying on the sofa downstairs, idly chatting.

your body is still heavy with exhaustion but you force yourself to sit up. hearing the water running in the bathroom, you call out to bokuto. ‘kou?’  you pad your way over to the bathroom. when you open the door there is no one inside. water drips from from a leaky tap into an empty bath tub. strange. where had the sound been coming from then?

you find yourself mesmerised by your reflection in the mirror right across from you. when you step inside the bathroom, the tiles are dry and frigid underneath your feet. the lights are off, however, the bathroom is faintly lit up by the light filtering in from the frosted windows. the bags under your eyes are dark and puffy, your lips look ashen. you look like you had lost a tonne of weight over the span of the past few hours. tracing a finger along the outline of your reflection, you notice how your eyes were a forlorn abyss. hollow like the dead.

mine. stay with me. don’t leave me alone. a voice whispers to you and you listen, enchanted.

you see the corners of your lips quirk up in your reflection. your expression twists into that of deranged happiness.

so, you’ll stay?

you don’t feel the smile on your face.

you’re backing away slowly. a scream dies in your throat.

that isn’t you. it’s her.

you’re running full speed out of the bathroom and you make it just in time as the door slams shuts behind you. the edge of your thin white slip gets caught in between but you yank it loose with enough force. bursting out of the room like a bat out of hell you’re hurtling downstairs. you have to look for bokuto. you must leave. now!

you’re me, i am you. he doesn’t love you, so just stay with me. I’m lonely.

you try to call out to bokuto but you cannot find your voice.

and then you see him. sitting on the sofa. the relief you feel is momentary. the old television is on, and the screen is grainy with static but bokuto’s eyes are intent on it. he’s still as if he were carved out of stone. he doesn’t acknowledge your presence just keeps staring ahead with an owlish gaze. you place a shaky hand on his shoulder and he finally turns to look at you.

his eyes that usually are like pools of golden honey are dark and murky like cheap kerosene. his features are sharper, more cunning. a devil in your lover’s skin. the mist outside thickens, appearing as if they were pale white walls surrounding the house.

i told you to just stay with me. you should’ve stayed with me in that cool dark water.

he doesn’t love you, i do.

suddenly bokuto is stalking towards you, his movements hypnotic like that of a panther, sinuously fluid, predatory. a feral look glints in those foreign eyes. he slams you against the nearest wall, his hands tightening over your neck. your head meets the hard surface with a thud. those large arms that have always felt like home suddenly feel empty and cold like a prison cell.

you’re just a prisoner in his cage. he doesn’t love you like I will.

black spots fill your vision, as your air supply is slowly being cut off. ‘kou- please don’t.’ you whimper. a flicker of recognition flashes through those eyes, but the grip around your neck only tightens. ‘kou-’ you call again softly. tears fall freely down your face. your hands go limp by your sides and in the process you knock over a vase that had been on table besides you. it falls to the marble floor with an obnoxious crash. the ceramic splinters into a hundred pieces. bokuto’s eyes widen and the darkness from his face lifts. it is as if a thick patch of clouds obscuring the moon had drifted past, letting its pure light fall to the earth once again. he’s your bokuto once again.

horror struck he lets go of your neck and catches a glimpse of the angry red fingerprints left behind like a morbid necklace. you collapse to the ground.

a door bangs shut somewhere in the house, startling you both. bokuto is about to crouch down next to you when suddenly the volume of the television is cranked up. the harsh static sound grates your ears, like a drawn out growl. there’s thumping coming from behind every surface of the house- the walls, the floors, the ceilings. every door, every window  swings open only to shut back with a bang, over and over until shards of broken glass lie like a carpet all over the floor. the house is alive with the breath of countless souls that live in its every crack and crevice. you both look on with horror as heavy mist begins to pour into the house. bokuto’s teeth chatter with fear, and he tries to get you to stand. he follows your gaze which is fixed to where your bedroom had been. and he sees it then. on the door which opens into the room, there’s a shadow of a woman. he can discern the long straight hair which she combs on and on and on.

‘f-fuck!’ he spits.

he harshly pulls you over his shoulders but transfixed you crane up your neck to continue looking at the shadow. hastily he manages to grab the keys which he had hung on a hook by the main door.  the shadow grows darker, more defined as if  whoever it belonged to was coming closer. he feels you struggling and you scream to be let down.the main door to the house is already open so with one last glance at the chaos behind, you are both bolting out of the house.

‘y/n, run! to the car. hurry, hurry, hurry!’ he shuts the door, hoping it would buy you some time. he’s not really sure what he’d just seen or what any of it meant. but thinking would come later. he grabs your hand as you start the mad dash across the front garden. you notice despite your compromised vision due to the mist, how the roses look wilted. the grounds gooey and wet underneath, and your feet sink into the soft mud making movement sluggish. but you don’t stop. moments later, the door behind you flings open with enough force that it comes loose from its hinges. the whole house seems to be angry.

come back here.

don’t leave me alone.

an overgrown root coils around your calf and yanks you back. your hand slips out of bokuto’s and he turns around, horrified, to see you being dragged into the ground. like you were falling into quicksand.

‘hold on to my arm,’ bokuto bellows, ‘and just don’t. let. go!’

the circulation in your leg is being cut off and you cry in pain. you can feel the disgusting way the soft earth keeps parting further to let you in. you want to let go, give in to the struggle. maybe it’d be better to just lie buried here, decomposing till you forget whats fear, whats pain.

your name is rolling off bokuto’s tongue like a chant. his muscles burn with strain. the sweat and slick makes his grip on you weak and he notices how you’re  letting go. he reads the resignations on your face. but why are you letting go? why are you trying to leaving him alone?

bokuto loses his footing and falls backwards and almost loses you, but he manages to interlock your fingers. he’s grunting with effort, and roars with frustration when it doesn’t seem to be working. it is then when you see the blood covering his feet, the glass splinters buried deep into his soles. in your haste to get away you never noticed how he had walked all over the shards with you over his shoulder. the ache in your heart swells. you know he’d never leave you behind. it was the two of you, or none of you who’d make it alive out of here.

the thought of bokuto buried deep into the ground, lips blue and crusted with mud gives you a renewed conviction. with the last spurts of energy you hold tight onto bokuto’s arm with one hand. the other digs into where you find soft but solid ground. you attempt to claw your way out and fight the drag of the noose around you ankle that tries to pull you in the opposite direction. away from bokuto. bokuto is inching backwards, his voice hoarse with all that screaming as he does his utmost to haul you out. 

rain begins to pour in heavy cascades even though there hadn’t been a single cloud in the obsidian sky. and suddenly you feel earth’s hold on you go slack. bokuto and your efforts come to fruition as your foot comes loose and you tumble straight on top of bokuto’s body. but its too early to celebrate. a loud thunderclap spurs you both into action and you run and run, fighting the burn in your lungs until you reach the car. bokuto, is grateful, infinitely grateful that the keys had remained in his pockets during that struggle. he hands you the keys and with no time to waste you’re  running to the car, afraid that something inauspicious might happen again if you didn’t hurry. bokuto notices with relief that the iron gates are not chained shut like they had been upon your arrival, and with some effort he swings them open.  bokuto clambers into the passenger seat and you floor the gas as you drive straight out of the gates, into a calm quiet night. 

it takes you a moment to notice that the rain had stopped. 

∷  ∷ ∷  ∷ 

the two of you are covered in dirt, in blood. absolutely shattered with exhaustion. bokuto finally feels the pain that had been dampened by adreneline. it now ignites like an inferno. he almost tears his lip trying to bite back a whimper. in the rear view mirror, you catch a glimpse of the house. it looks regal and imposing, as it had when you’d first arrived. you can see the dimly lit bedroom, the curtains billowing gently in a slight breeze. the glass on the doors is intact. the garden is immaculate once again and you can see patches of soft grass spread out where the mud had almost eaten you up alive just a few moments ago. a shaky laugh escapes Bokuto, and before you know it, feeling delirious, you’re laughing with him. 

bokuto’s phone rings and the sound cuts short your hysteria. with some effort he retrieves it from the dashboard where he’d left it two days ago. he had planned on not letting anything distract him from you on this short getaway. he puts it on loudspeaker.

‘they picked up!’ you hear Konoha say to someone and the collective sighs of relief are audible.

‘dude, where have you both been? we’ve been calling you all day. ms. nakamura told me that you never made it to my vacation home?’

‘ms. nakamura?’ bokuto rasps.

‘yeah, the caretaker I told you about?’

‘the caretaker was a man!’ you snatch the phone with from bokuto with one hand while other remains on the steering wheel. you’re yelling at the receiver like a mad woman. ‘we came to your villa, but that man opened the gates. listen, there’s something wrong with the house and lake behind it is-’

‘what lake? there are only corn fields behind my house. which is, by the way, a traditional japanese one. where the fuck have you both been?!’

you and bokuto look at each other in confusion, and you hit the brakes. you glance back at the house which is now far, far away. if you squint your eyes you can see the outline of a man at the gates. the lamp in his hand glows golden like a distant star.

a woman’s shadow is dark and lonely against the delicate lace of the bedroom’s curtains.

[venusandromedadjarin]

Bogota, Colombia

Ch. 2, Mi Cielo

18+, angst, brief sex, language, smoking, canon timeline, 1.7k words

The plane touches down in Bogota, Columbia at 7pm sharp, right on time, which means you had all of thirty minutes to find your way through security, baggage claim and down to the waiting area before Agent Murphy is due to pick you up. If your instinct is right, as soon as you hand over your credentials, Escobar would know you had landed in his country and there was nothing you could do about it. At security, you hand over your I.D. and passport, they give you some bullshit excuse about needing to check it in the back, and just like that, you know you’re on the radar. Sighing, you wait and check the time. Fifteen minutes and counting down. 

The kid finally returns, apologizing and handing your items back to you. You wave him off, “Sólo estás haciendo tu trabajo.” He gives you a small smile before motioning for you to pass. The baggage claim isn’t incredibly difficult to find, but you have to wait for the slow machine to spit out your bag . Another time check shows five minutes to spare. Rushing through the crowd, you descend the stairs and spot the whitest guy in the airport. Your heels click on the floor as you walk over to him, “Hola, gringo. Murphy, I’m guessing?”

He grimaces and takes your bag, normally you would contest the action but you’re too tired to argue. “Not you too, Lucio. Is it that bad?”

“Eh, could be worse,” you say as you make a show of looking him over. He’s tall and handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Definitely sticks out like a sore thumb in Columbia. He chuckles as the hot air greets you both outside. It’s early evening but the humidity immediately cloaks you both. “Headquarters?”

“No, the ambassador told me to just come get you. We can celebrate tonight and then work tomorrow I guess.” He stops in front of an inconspicuous black jeep before unlocking the back and lifting your suitcase into it before moving to get in the driver’s seat. Observant, you think as you silently thank whatever God there is that he didn’t open your door, too. 

“Celebrate?” You lift a brow as you climb into the jeep, your skirt riding up on your thighs. 

“We’ll let you get settled first then drinks are on Peña,” he looks extra concentrated as he weaves through the narrow streets.

“Glad to see you volunteer him for shit too.” You put a cigarette between your lips, rolling down the window, “¿Te importa?”

He waves you off as you light it, blowing the smoke outside. “You know Peña?”

“Javi and I go way back. We were DEA in Texas.” Nervous to change the subject, you motion to the outside as you pass a clinic, “Where are we going exactly?”

As if he also doesn’t want to talk about Javi, he ignores your comment, “The apartments. They’re pretty nice. Connie said she can help you decorate if you want.” He huffs out a laugh.

“Connie’s your wife right?”

He pulls up in front of a dingy building with a gate out front, “Yeah, she’s the greatest. You’ll like her I think.” You smile at him, the nerves bubbling up in your abdomen at the thought of seeing Javi. He goes to unlock the door as you grab your purse and luggage, following up the stairs behind you. “Here’s your key, it’s down the hall and to the left. Javi is here,” he points at a door to the right which definitely has sexual noises echoing from it. You both cringe. “Connie and I are upstairs.” He glances down at his watch in the crappy fluorescent light, “Say we hit the bar in an hour?”

“Sounds good,” you turn to walk down the hall as he climbs the stairs but pause and call out to him, “and, hey, you can call me your y/n.”

He sarcastically salutes. “Steve,” he laughs and then runs up the stairs. A minute later you hear a sweet voice and then the door closes. Rushing inside your own apartment, you go to the phone, dialing quickly. 

“Val,” she picks up after three rings, “I’m here, chica.” She rambles on and you answer in the spaces of her breaths: “No, I haven’t seen him yet.” “Yeah, tonight.” “Drinks I guess.” “No, no, you’re the only one with this number.” “Si, claro. Y tu, Val.” 

The click of her receiver echoes into the silence of the apartment as you look around for the first time. It’s not much, but it’s home for now and it could be worse. Being an agent sometimes had its perks. You spot the radio in the corner and immediately dial it to the liveliest station you can find, cranking the volume up. Stripping, you find the shower and wash the sweat of the flight off, your stomach doing flips as your mind races between the job and the life you’re embarking on. 

————————————-

The leather of the couch sticks to both of their bodies as Javi grips Helena to him with a strong arm, their moans echoing through his apartment as he pounds into her. Breathing heavy, he collapses on top of her, kissing her neck as she revels in the orgasm he just gave her. He knows it, too. “Mejoramos cada vez que practicamos, ¿eh?”

“Ay, eres increíble, Javier.” She’s still breathing heavy, her fingers tangling with his brown hair.

“Bueno… No te pases, eh.” Helena leaves the couch as Javi lights up a cigarette, taking a drag before standing to pull on his jeans. 

“Es la verdad. ¿Qué me ofreces para tomar?”

“Whisky o agua de la llave.” He leans back on the couch, hearing music from somewhere down the hall. His thoughts wander as Helena starts getting dressed, complaining about his apartment needing a woman. She refuses the money he tries to hand her, instead taking his cigarette and puffing out the smoke. He watches her intently, before she leans over him.

“Dame un beso,” when he doesn’t make a move, she repeats herself, gently cupping the side of his face and kissing him. As she leaves, she gives him a crumb of information that would help the investigation and he looks longingly after her when the door shuts. That damn music echoes down the hall and he grunts, deciding to take a shower before going to get drinks and having to see you. 

————————————-

You hear voices outside near the gate when you close your door behind you, double checking the lock before descending the concrete steps. His back is turned to you right now, but you recognize his brown curls and that damn leather jacket he wears everywhere. The signature stance of standing with his hand on your hip makes you blush, but before he even has the chance to turn around, you’re being enveloped in a hug while Steve calls out to his wife. You laugh against the blonde woman, nervous but hugging her back.

“You must be y/n, I’m so excited to meet you. When I found out Steve was going to have a female partner, it made the move down here easier since there’d be another girl. I’m a nurse, so I’m not as badass as you but hopefully we can still be friends.”

“You must be Connie,” you pull back from her and hold her at arm’s length, “and by the way, nurses are still badass. Don’t let these boys make you think any different.” She smiles at you and you wave to Steve as she goes to grab his hand, Javi finally turning around and letting his eyes hungrily slide over your body. “Where are we going?” You decide to play with him a little longer, not saying anything but also not missing the questioning glance Connie shoots at Steve who just shrugs. 

“A little hole in the wall down the street. We can walk.” Connie looks a little nervous, but tucks herself into Steve’s side as they lead the way, your heels clicking as you walk behind them, Javi taking up the rear. You can practically feel his eyes on your ass. Once the couple in front of you is deep in conversation, Connie whispering about safety and Steve assuring her you’re all armed, Javi grabs your wrist and pulls you to a stop.

“You want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” He hisses, careful to keep his voice low. Finally, he puts his hand on the small of your back, telling you to keep walking so it doesn’t look suspicious. 

“First off, he knows we know each other, pendejo,” you shrug out from beneath his hand, embarrassed by the physical reaction you have to his touch. “I’m guessing the Ambassador told you I’m your other partner. I called to tell you myself but you acted like a dick, as usual.”

He angrily rubs a hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Did you ask to come here?”

“No, Javi. I’m not a lovestruck little girl. I got assigned here and I accepted. It’s fucking Escobar, did you think I would refuse it because of” - you gesture wildly between the two of you - “whatever the fuck is going on between us?”

“There’s nothing going on,” he whispers.

“If that’s easier for you to believe then fine, say the words.”

He’s quiet for a moment as he stares at you underneath the neon light of the bar, Steve whistles and waves before ducking inside. Javi’s brown eyes search yours, pleading with you and you’re suddenly struck by how much you missed him. Job or no job, he’s standing right in front of you and neither of you can admit that simple fact. You shake your head, ready to go down shots inside and forget you even asked, the anger bubbling inside your chest, “Maldito, Javíer.”

Just as you turn to pull open the door, he yanks you back to him, his forehead meeting yours, and whispers, “Mujer hermosa, obstinada.” Taking your hand in his, he gives it a squeeze before pulling open the door and leading you inside. 

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 12

Harry's buzzing with adrenaline, bouncing around the mat on his toes and swiftly jabbing a few punches into the pads on Liam's hands. He nods his approval, and Harry can tell that Liam's waiting for more. So he does, even if he's supposed to go easy today, Harry still spins around Liam, delivering three harsh punches to the pads as soon Liam turns to face him. He swipes his foot across the mat, catching his trainer's feet and making Liam trip back until he's sat on the floor. Harry smirks, starting to back away from him.

"Daddy!"

Harry's head snaps to the left, finding that Mark has returned to the gym from the upstairs cafe. He's standing by the ring, and Arlo's in his arms with what looks like yogurt smeared on his shirt. Harry beams, opening his mouth to call out a hello but then he's tumbling back himself, arm stinging when he lands on his funny bone.

Arlo squeals out laughs over Liam's chuckling, and Harry's smirk falls at Liam's smug look.

"Don't get distracted." Liam advises, climbing to his feet and throwing off the pads on his hands. He reaches down for Harry, gripping his glove in his hand.

"S'bloody practice, didn't think you'd be treating this like a match." He grunts as Liam pulls his sweaty torso off the ring.

He chuckles, patting his shoulder roughly. "Just bringing you back into the swing of things."

Harry scoffs, using his teeth to unstrap his left glove and tucking it under his bicep. He wiggles it off, followed by the right glove, and tosses them over the ropes of the ring so they land by his bag with a smack. He slips under the ropes, popping back up next to Arlo and Mark. Arlo coos, reaching his hand out to Harry and wiggling his fingers. He takes him from Mark, not caring that he's a bit sweaty, and smoothes out his clothes.

"Got my child all messy."

"That's not my fault!" Mark immediately swears, eyes widening. "He eats like you, what was I supposed to do?"

Arlo makes a grumpy noise, glaring at Mark now that he's back with Harry, and Harry can't help but laugh. "Don't like Mark anymore?" He murmurs to Arlo through a chuckle.

"No," Arlo grumbles, turning his head away from Mark to look over Harry's shoulder. Mark's mouth falls open in offense, and Harry snickers.

"Is it 'cause he's old?"

"No,"

"He's smelly?" Harry tries, biting back a smile at the hurt look on Mark's face.

"No,"

"He's small?" Mark glares at him.

"No,"

"'cause ya missed me?"

"Yes," Arlo slurs, turning his face into Harry's neck and patting his face with his little hand.

"I missed you too bug." Harry admits, pressing a smiling kiss to Arlo's head. Seeing Arlo snuggle into Harry must make Mark forget about Arlo abandoning him, because he's looking at them with a little but fond smile on his lips.

"He's turning into quite the talker." Liam pipes up, tossing a towel at Harry so he can wipe his face off. Harry catches it with one hand, drying off his sweaty skin, and making Arlo grumble when he has to move his head for just a moment.

"Sometimes he just chats absolute nonsense. Sittin' at the dinner table the other night and he was eating some mashed carrots, bunch of weird noises commin' out of him," Harry can't help but smile at the memory, "and he was just looking at the missus and me like we should know what he's saying."

Liam and Mark both chuckle, Arlo going shy as he realizes Harry was talking about him, and pressing further into his chest. "Does that mean we're ready to go home?" Harry laughs, rubbing his fingers into Arlo's back. "Ready to see Mumma?"

"Mumma." Arlo agrees, and Harry decides it's time to get going. Mark bids him goodbye, needing to return to the front desk, and Liam moves around the gym to wipe down the equipment, so Harry crouches down, placing Arlo between his thighs with a groan. He's definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

"Hang on for me baby," Harry requests, helping Arlo hang onto his legs and lean on him for balance while he reaches over to shove his gloves and water into his gym bag. His calves burn from crouching and Arlo pressing down on him, so he quickly pulls on his hoodie and helps Arlo into his coat, throwing his bag over his shoulder and Arlo's baby bag on the other. He lifts Arlo in one arm, bringing him back up with him and pulling his hood over his head.

"Nice and warm?" He asks, only receiving a spit bubble in response. He laughs, digging his keys out of his pocket and heading towards the door.

"Gonna miss some days next week but I'll text ya a schedule, yeah?" He calls to Liam, leaning his hip on the door, but not enough to push it open yet.

"A couple days?" Liam huffs from across the room, eyeing Harry skeptically. "You fight in three weeks Harry-"

"I know and I'll be ready," he promises,"but I've got family stuff to take care of. You know that comes first."

Liam's skeptical, looking Harry up and down as if assessing his readiness right on the spot, but he knows and trusts Harry. He wouldn't miss training unless it was absolutely necessary. "Take care of yourself yeah? Lots of water, vegetables."

Harry grins, grateful. "Of course," he nods, and then he's out the door, him and Arlo ready to brace the cold outside.

~

Harry's got a fire crackling in the living room, one of the Avenger movies playing on the television, and Arlo running rampant in his walker with Theo chasing after him, yipping and yapping when Arlo laughs after a particularly fast roll. He's got no idea what's gotten Arlo so worked up, maybe the yogurt he had this morning that's still staining the shirt Harry threw somewhere on the stairs when they got home before he had grabbed a clean one out of the laundry basket on the couch.

He hears the front door open as he's laying another corn tortilla stuffed with cheese and tomato slices into the pan, and a sizzle of grease pops up and stings his bicep. The yelp that leaves his lips is covered by Theo's high pitched barking, and the little dog slips across the tiles until he reaches the living room. Arlo grunts as he pushes himself out of the kitchen and into the living room as well, calling out a happy "mumma!"

"Hiya bub!" Y/n greets, followed by more hellos from Gemma and Anne. Harry here's the unmistakable hums of them warming up by the fire, and Arlo's little wheels rolling and bare feet slapping the floor as he heads back towards the kitchen. Harry lowers the burner, flipping the quesadilla over to cook the other side.

“Daddy!’

“Ya came back?” Harry gasps, reaching down to stop the walker before Arlo can run over his sock clad toes. “Thank goodness, I missed ya so much!”

His words pull a giggle from Arlo, chubby hand smacking the rattle and Theo tries to rise to his hinds, slipping as he whines. He loves to chew on toys and Arlo’s happily tossed him a few of the rattles he owns so it’s no surprise that he wants that one too.

Arlo babbles something, pushing off the floor and away from Harry. He’s heading back towards the kitchen, puppy at his heels when y/n comes in, screaming dramatically when Arlo almost runs her over. Harry and Arlo both giggle, the sound so similar he pauses for a moment, looking at his wife with big eyes to make sure he heard that right. She laughs at him, reaching down to pick Arlo up. 

“Who gave you a license, huh?” She teases, rubbing Arlo’s cheek. Harry turns to remove the now cooked quesadilla, but not before catching Arlo's little wince that's undoubtedly a result of his mother's cold fingers. Harry turns off the stove, pushing the pan to the back burner so it doesn't accidentally burn anyone, and lays the food down on the plate with the others. "Drive like your daddy."

"Hey!" Harry exclaims, wiping his hands off on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder. "I'm a very good driver!"

Y/n gives Arlo a look that says 'yeah right' and then smiles at Harry. "Of course you are baby." She says sweetly, patting the side of his face the way Arlo does and pecking his lips. He peeks over her shoulder, not seeing Anne or Gemma. She must read his questioning gaze because she says, "In the room changing. They forgot their water proof coats and the snow got to them."

Harry nods, leaning down again to capture her mouth in another kiss. She hums, tickling his lips and tangles her cold fingers in his hair. He starts to smile when a little hand presses against his chest, Arlo groaning as he tries with all his might to push Harry.

"No," he whines, smacking Harry's chest when he doesn't budge.

"What'sa matter with you?" Harry scoffs, brows pinching together. "Have ya had enough of me?" Y/n giggles as Harry steps back, frowning when Arlo smiles and snuggles into her. "Tired of daddy? Not nice, I helped make you, thank you very much."

Arlo ignores him, and at Harry's feet Theo whines for attention. "You and me both bud." Harry groans, leaning down to pick up the dog. His back and shoulders ache at the movement. He returns to his normal height, leaning against the island while his fingers scratch behind Theo's ears.

"How was it then?"

Y/n hums, and Arlo visible trembles as the sound no doubt tickles through his little body. "It's nice. Good amount of room for the both of them, and a little area in case Arlo feels like visiting. Not too far away either, s'right by that shoe store I got my wedding heels at."

Harry nods, mentally mapping the destination out in his head. She's right. Gemma and Anne's new place is only about a ten minute drive, and he knows there's a nice little park around there. "They excited to move in?"

"I think so. Probably glad to have their own space you know? And establish a home away from where everything went bad."

Harry nods. He gets it, understands why they would want a place they can begin to call home that doesn't have any affiliation with Des or Jack. But he can't really understand them wanting to leave his hometown. They loved it there, Anne loved it there.

"Are you ready to go back?" Y/n asks gently, eyes searching his for an answer. His stomach twists at the reminder, but he nods. It'll be good for him to go back. He needs to say goodbye to Des for good. He needs to say goodbye to the house he grew up in and the bad memories that lie there. He thinks his attacks might stop if he does, if he gets that closure he needs. And we wants her to see the place that shaped him into the man he is and why he's a little messy at the edges. Maybe she'll understand more too.

"I really am."

~

Two hours south where the snow is just rain and slush, and the sky is cloudless and blue, Harry finds his hometown. It looks the same. So overwhelming similar to the way it was when he left that it knocks the air out of him as he drives through the streets, passing his old school and the street his new life had started on. It's a fairly warm day and people walk the sidewalks. Harry tries to remember if he recognizes any of them but he can't. He's outgrown this place.

Anne and Gemma were living in a tiny house that Harry knows used to belong to a florist named Gia, located right off the main street. The yard is shabby and brown, the white house looking even brighter next to it. He parks in the empty car park, shutting off the car while Gemma sighs. "This is her." She murmurs, smiling over the seat at Harry. She says nothing else before opening the door, her and Anne sliding out.

Arlo kicks his car seat. "Me!" He shouts, as if Harry and y/n could actually forget him in the car. They climb out, Harry unable to hide his confusion as Anne unlocks the front door. Harry unlatches Arlo's car seat from the base, tucking his blanket around him and lifting the car seat out. Y/n is grabbing their bags out of the back, tossing as many as she can over her shoulders, and waddling up to the house with him following.

It's a nice house, Harry will give them that. But he's not sure why they're living there. What happened to his childhood house? He doesn't get a chance to ask. Well he does, but he doesn't really want to ask because he's not sure he wants the answer. Something in his gut tells him that Jack owns it now and he quickly pushes the thought away.

There's only two bedrooms in the house but Harry had been warned before they left the city so him and y/n are fully prepared to take over the living room. It's only a few days, and they have a nice brand-new air mattress they'd been gifted for their wedding and haven't used. Anne and Gemma work on making dinner in the kitchen while Harry and y/n set up their mattress, close but not too close to the fireplace. Arlo lays sprawled out in the middle of the bed, rolling back and forth in the plushy comforter as they lay out pillows around him. He laughs when Harry gently sits on the mattress, making the little one bounce.

"Ya sleeping here tonight or in your carseat bug?" Harry asks, bringing Arlo to lay between his thighs, little feet pressing into his belly. He had planned on having Arlo sleep in carseat right next to the bed but by the way Arlo's snuggling into the bed and playing with the edge of Harry's shorts, he's sure Arlo will end up squished on the mattress too.

"I think daddy's taking the carseat so his babies can sleep real good huh?" Y/n teases, reaching over Harry's thigh to wiggle a finger at Arlo. He squeals, grabbing a hold of her finger.

"Don't think I fit in the carseat darling." Harry replies, smiling at the way Arlo and y/n are looking at each other. He falls back on the pillows, hand coming down to card through her hair when she lays her cheek on his thigh.

"Guess you get the floor then."

Harry snorts, closing his eyes and enjoying her soft hair and Arlo's tiny fingers brushing against his thighs. "Not if I don't move from here."

"Mph," she grumbles. "stubborn daddy, huh? Are you just as hard headed?"

"Daddy!"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Kay."

Both y/n and Harry laugh, quiet little chuckles that are so loving it makes the room feel ten degrees warmer. Their laughs have Arlo laughing, kicking his feet out. Harry winces when one of Arlo's heels gets to close to his crotch. "Oi be nice to daddy!" He warns, squeezing one of Arlo's little toes through his sock. Arlo screams and laughs, and then his mouth is latching into the side of Harry's leg and he's digging one of his new baby teeth into the skin.

"Hey!" Harry scolds, but he's laughing because he's never seen Arlo in such a silly mood. He can't help but fall more in love with the little person Arlo's growing to be. Until y/n bursts the bubble.

"Yup, just as difficult as daddy."

~

Technically Harry came back to help Anne and Gemma pack, but he can only do so much when they're so bloody picky about what goes in what box. After two hours of grumbling and arguing over whether silverware goes with plates or towels, Harry had decided to take his loves to see the town. It was another warm day, so Arlo didn't need to bundled up in a thick coat but Harry did stuff a bit of cotton in his little ears to keep him from getting another ear infection. The town's small, so they didn't need to drive. Instead he took them walking down main street, pointing out the alley he met Nick in and y/n had given him such an overly-protective mother look he couldn't help but kiss her. Then they went to this little store that sells root beer imported from Australia, and because y/n is a sucker for root beer, Harry bought her two bottles. Their walk continued until they reached the church, and that's how Harry found himself at the place he'd been avoiding for two long.

"Is he in there?" Y/n asks, taking in the way Harry's nervously eyeing the cemetery behind the church. Harry nodded, throat tight as he attempts to swallow the lump in it. Arlo shifts in his arms, mitten covered hands gripping the collar of his hoodie, and stares at the side of Harry's face. He's picked up on the shift in the air, realizing that Harry is no longer chuckling at stupid memories from his childhood as he recalls them to y/n.

He meets Arlo's eyes, managing a smile. "M'okay bug," he murmurs, feeling like he's directing the words more at himself than at Arlo. He tugs on Harry's collar as if saying okay, and then Harry's taking the first steps towards his father for the first time in years. Y/n follows him, strong by his side. It almost feels like she's the one in charge despite him leading the way. She always gets like that when he's nervous; strong and silent, like a mote around a castle.

The grass feels thick and spongy under his shoes as he crosses gave after grave. It's weird walking through here and not feeling small. Harry's always remembered the tombstones towering over him, but maybe that was just the thought of death hovering.

It doesn't take long to find the familiar stone, Harry immediately pausing in front of it. His breath catches in his throat, eyes skimming the words he'll never forget. Here lies Desmond Styles. Beloved son, husband, and father.

"This is my dad," Harry croaks, tongue like sandpaper. The wind whistles around them, chilling his fingers. "dad this is my family. Well, the family you'd be proud of."

He pauses, as if waiting for a reply he'll never get. "Hello Mr. Styles. I'm y/n, and I'd like to thank you so much for the man you left behind for me." Harry turns to face her, eyes stinging as he finds her already looking at him. She steps closer, hands wrapping around his bicep. "No matter how many times he says he's nothing compared to you, he's the best father and husband anyone could ask for."

Y/n gives him a sweet smile, and Harry sniffles back a sob. He's messed up so much in his life and yet here she stands, speaking of him as if he's nothing short of heavenly. Arlo calls his name softly, hands cupping Harry's face when he turns back to him. Harry lifts him up so he doesn't have to give himself a double chin to meet his son's gaze. Before he can answer, Arlo is leaning forward and touching his lips to Harry's nose, drool smearing on his skin. He doesn't care, because it's so sweet and tender all he can do is laugh and cry, squeezing Arlo tighter.

"Kay daddy." Arlo tells him in the same tone Harry had before they'd entered the cemetery. Harry wipes off his nose and eyes with his hand, taking a deep breath.

"M'sorry it took me awhile to come back. I had really fucked things up, didn't really take care of mum and Gemma like I should've, a-and I couldn't come back here with things still wrong," he clears the quiver in his voice away. "but ma girl here helped me, a lot, and we've got a nice home and stuff in the city-ya always liked the city-and m'taking mum and Gem with me.

"I hope you don't think we're forgetting you. We're not, but I don't think any of us can stay here. Hasn't been the same since you left, and well my babies have a chance at having their nan and auntie in their lives. I can't take family away from them so. Umm just wanted you to know that we're okay now, and m'gonna do better."

Y/n presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, wiping at the tear streaks on them. They don't say anymore, they don't need to. And even though he can't answer, Harry has a feeling Des is telling him he knows. Harry's chest feels the lightest it's been in years, and he knows he's leaving a part of his heart there for his father.

~

If Gemma and Anne noticed his glossy eyes or exhausted smile, they said nothing, and Harry was grateful. They got through dinner easily, Harry sharing chicken noodle soup from the place down the street with Arlo, and Gemma and Anne telling them they've got almost everything packed. Harry offers to help again, but they shoot him down because he "doesn't know they're system."

Eventually they make it to their beds, and like the night before Arlo squishes onto the mattress with them. Y/n is running her fingers through his dark hair, humming to him while Harry rubs his thumb over his bare tummy.

For awhile the only sound in the room is Arlo sucking on his pacifier and their soft breaths. They wait until the pacifier has drooped in his lips, and his fingers are no longer squeezing Bunny as tightly, before talking.

"Thank you for taking me to meet your dad."

Harry chuckles, she didn't really meet him, not at all. She met the grave of him, the memories Harry gave away with his words. Still, he murmurs back, "Of course, darling. Thanks for taking care of me."

"Of course," she smiles but it's broken by a yawn a second after. He can't help but think about how Arlo yawns just like her.

"It made me feel better being back there. I mean it hurt, but the kinda hurt you get when you're fixing a bone that didn't heal right."

Y/n hums in understanding, and Harry watches her eyes flutter sleepily. He feels his own exhaustion seeping in, so he gently leans over Arlo to give her a chaste kiss. "Goodnight darling."

She smiles again, eyes already glued shut. "Goodnight baby."

~

The moving truck wasn't set to arrive until the next day, so Anne and Gemma shooed Harry and y/n out of the house to spend another day in the town. Harry didn't know when or if he'd come back again so he happily utilized the time. Their morning was spent in a restaurant that Harry and his old friends used to visit when he was just starting high school, and much to his surprise, everything was the same. Including the two men sitting in the booth they used to sit at before school.

Zayn and Thomas are recognizable, but Harry can't deny that they look different. Zayn's brown hair is now dipped in a soft pink, and he's littered with more tattoos than even Harry. Harry can't see his face, but he assumes it's the same sharp face he used to know. As for Thomas, he's completely shaved down the shoulder length hair he used to have, and the acne that he used to whine about has cleared up, and a quick glance reveals he's lost his braces. Harry doesn't get to notice much else before y/n is nudging her foot into his shin.

"Wha'?" He asks innocently, quickly catching the salt shaker Arlo's been trying to push off the table for five minutes.

"Mine!" Arlo grunts angrily when Harry moves it to the opposite side of the table.

"That is not yours." Harry laughs. "Stop trying to make messes, s'not nice."

Arlo grunts, slumping down in the high chair, and kicking his feet back and forth. Harry chuckles, returning to his fried eggs when he realizes y/n is still eyeing him suspiciously. He raises an eyebrow, mouth full.

"Did you know them?"

He hesitates, glancing across the room to see them splitting the bill. He shrugs, "we were friends. Kinda stopped after ma dad died, and then I left."

"Do you think they recognize you?" She murmured curiously, popping a juicy cube of watermelon into her mouth. Harry shrugs again. "Maybe, don't know. S'been to long."

She hums, eyes running over his face like she's trying to decide if she'd recognize him. Harry offers a smile, tilting his head to the side, and she laughs.

"I don't think they would," she finally says. "saw some of the photo albums yesterday when you were in the shower. You look really different."

"Good or bad?" He asks, grabbing the fork Arlo's trying to pull to the edge of the table with his foot. He moves it, and Arlo grumbles again. "Ba' daddy."

"M'not being bad. You're being bad." Harry tells him, giving his pout an unimpressed look.

"Definitely good," y/n tells him, enunciating the word good towards Arlo. "I mean, you were always cute and you're like smile and eyes are the same of course, but it's like everything else has changed."

Harry smirks at the compliment. "Like what?"

"You're huge now," she admits bashfully. "like you we're kinda scrawny before and now you practically bust out of every shirt you've had for about two years."

Harry laughs, cheeks blooming with heat. "Throwing punches everyday really helps with that."

Y/n rolls her eyes at his teasing tone, knowing he's trying to flustered for her for complimenting him. "Haha I think my husband's attractive, that's so funny."

Harry snorts, nudging her foot under the table, and taking the last bite of his eggs. Y/n is still munching on her fresh fruit, and Arlo has made a thorough mess of his oatmeal, so Harry digs baby wipes out of the diaper bag that's next to him, and leans forward to start cleaning off Arlo's sticky hands and face. He whines and squirms as Harry wipes at his cheeks.

"I know they're cold bug, m'sorry, but the more you move, the longer it takes." Arlo's gone red in the face but he's not crying, just glaring at Harry as he tosses the wipes with his used napkin and unclips his dirty bib.

"Seems like he goes through about ten of those a day." Y/n comments, referring to the dirty bib. Harry thinks of the stack of bibs they had to pack and how many they wash a week.

"Gettin' so messy," Harry coos, lifting Arlo out of the high chair and onto his lap. He slumps back against Harry, kicking his sock clad feet up on the table, and babbling something that Harry knows is him asking for a drink. He grabs his glass of water, balancing it on Arlo's lap and holding the straw for him. Arlo's little hands latch around it, happily sipping some of the cold drink.

"He's just taking after his daddy." Y/n teases.

"Me? You should've seen Gem when we're growing up! She was always covered in something."

Arlo's finished with the water, so Harry places it back on the table, using his sleeve to wipe Arlo's mouth for him. "I'm sure." Y/n agrees, obviously just to appease him, and he's on the verge of complaining when he's interrupted by the men he was hoping to dodge.

"Excuse me," says Zayn, and his voice is just as deep and slurring as it's always been. "Harry? Styles, yeah?"

Y/n kicks his shin again and he can picture her amused smirk. She knew he was trying to avoid running into anyone he may now, and now his curiosity is biting him in the ass. "Zayn?" Harry asks, pretending he didn't know he was sitting across the room this whole time.

Zayn's face splits into a beaming smile, and he nods. "Man it's crazy to see you here!" He says in disbelief, running his fingers over the hair dusting his jawline. He then sticks that same out and Harry shakes it, glad he can use Arlo as an excuse to not stand up.

"Would say the same to you but this is kinda the spot still, huh?"

Zayn chuckles. "Kinda. You just missed Thomas! Went out the side door, ha."

"Like usual," Harry quips, remembering that Thomas always used the side door by the kitchen for some reason. He never told them why.

"Yeah, you remember that?"

"Of course," Harry chuckles, and then y/n is clearing her throat. Harry faintly blushes, realizing he hasn't introduced her, not that he particularly wanted to. He wishes he could keep her separate from his past.

"Y/n," she smiles politely at Zayn, and they shake hands. "would you like to sit down?" She motions to the spot next to her.

"That would be great, thanks!" Zayn breathes, taking the spot next to her. He looks at Harry, eyes twinkling like he's remembering all the hell they used to take part in together. Arlo squirms in Harry's lap until he's turned around, and then he claws at Harry's shirt until he's standing.

"Who's this little one?" Zayn coos, mesmerized as Arlo tries to sling himself over Harry's shoulder. Harry grabs his ankles, keeping him pinned to his thighs.

"This is my son, Arlo." Harry pats Arlo's leg. "Ya gonna say hi to Zayn?" He stops squirming, and looks over his shoulder at Zayn.

"Hello Arlo." Zayn greets, and blood rushes to Arlo's cheeks as he whips back around and hides in Harry's neck.

"Sorry, he's shy sometimes." Y/n apologizes, shrugging at Zayn.

"S'ok," he laughs, and their waitress comes over to clear away their plates. Harry thanks her, trying to ignore the way Arlo is stepping into his hip. When she leaves, Zayn's looking at Harry like he can't believe his eyes and it makes his stomach jump.

"Wha'?"

Zayn gives him that disbelieving head shake again. "It's just insane. I mean, you disappear for years and then you're just back and you've got a wife and a baby. You always said you didn't want kids."

Y/n cocks her head, confused, but Harry's too busy feeling like he's on trial to explain to her. "Temporarily, temporarily back. I leave on Tuesday." He chooses to not respond to the baby comment. Zayn doesn't need to know the way his head works now.

"Well where are ya living then?" He asks, remaining upbeat despite Harry's shift in attitude. He knows he's coming off as threatening, but he doesn't care.

"The city, been there since I left."

Zayn purses his lips and nods, and Harry thinks Zayn's recalling all the times Harry said he wouldn't move to the city. It makes him scowl.

"Where are you working?"

Harry's ready to reply with the same words he'd just said but y/n cuts him off. "Harry's a bit modest about it," she laughs breezily, pulling Zayn's attention to her. "so we'll just say he's a professional athlete."

Zayn gasps, and y/n tells him something else but Harry's not listening because he's setting Arlo back into his lap, fiddling with his shirt and socks to pretend like he has something to do other than talk to Zayn.

Harry's not sure what else is said, and frankly he doesn't mind. He didn't come back here to be grilled about what happened and why he left and why he's back. Eventually Zayn clears his throat, telling y/n it was nice to meet her and that he "really should be going." Harry gives him a hand shake too, telling him it was good seeing him just to be polite.

"Yeah same to you. Let your mum and Gemma know I say hi, and hope they're well." Zayn says sympathetically. "They haven't been very social since the accident at the house, but tell 'em we still think of 'em, yeah?"

Harry nods dumbly, ears ringing. Accident at the house? What happened at the house. "Harry?" Y/n says cautiously, her voice muffled in his ears.

"We need to go y/n."

~

He's panting by the time he reaches the street his old home is on, sweating from the fast-paced jog he did all the way here from the restaurant. He can hear y/n behind him, pushing Arlo's stroller and mumbling something about him being "crazy daddy" right now. He doesn't respond like he usually would, too caught up in trying to find the house.

He's three houses away when he sees it. Well, what's left it. He stumbles, sprinting to the metal fence standing around the yard, and he chokes at the sight. As if the black ash laying on the ground shot up into his mouth, and down into his lungs, he coughs and wheezes, because the home he used to know is now just collapsed walls of black char and stones. It's gone, everything he knew here, is all gone.

[turquoise-stones]

Sore

Bakugou x reader

artist link

A/N: Not lemon, not lime, it’s not that type of sore.

. . .

You toweled yourself off as you stepped out of the dorm showers, feeling much better now that the warm water had soothed your sore muscles. While training with Bakugou did wonders to tone your body, your always felt whipped afterwards.

Slipping into some sweatpants and a tshirt, you wrung the last of the water out of your hair, before slapping on some moisturizer and chapstick. Looking at your tired reflection in the mirror one last time, you hastily packed your toiletries into your bag and stuck your feet into your fuzzy slippers. You exited the bathroom, and padded your way to the common room, footsteps softened by your shoes. Peeking around the doorway, you laughed slightly as you spotted the still wet haired Bakugou waiting impatiently for you by the sofas. You watched with a slight smile as he absentmindedly stretched his arm.

"I hope you didn't wait long Kacchan." You said cheerfully one you reached him. He perked up upon hearing your voice, snapping out of whatever thoughts he was having. Eyeing his adorably flat hair, you attempted to reach up and fluff his wet locks. He promptly snatched your hand out of the air and scrunched his nose at you, eyes narrowed.

"You took fucking forever. I thought you slipped and died in there." Lowering you hands, he kept a tight yet warm grip on you as he led out the other side of the common room to the boy's rooms.

"Maybe you just shower too fast. Probably why you smell bad."

You glanced out of the corner of your eye in amusement as a vein popped in his forehead and his teeth bared at you. He was about to fire off before you patted him on the arm with a small chuckle.

"Just kidding just kidding. You smell nice after showers. I think it's your shampoo."

"Hrrumph."

"C'mon let's go. I wanna cuddle."

That statement seemed to lesson Bakugou's grumpiness. The two of you climbed the stairs, the straining pain in your legs reminding you to take it easy tomorrow. After feeling you slip behind him, he turned around to see you frowning at him a couple steps down.

"Why are you wincing?"

"Cause it hurts." You pouted, gesturing at your thighs. Every step seemed to pull your muscles in all the wrong places. His lips tightened and he tugged roughly at your hand, causing you to trip up a couple steps closer to him.

"Kacchan!" You gasped out, flailing out to catch yourself on the banister to stop from falling forwards onto him. "What the he-"

"C'mon. If that little bit of training today made you sore then we definitely need to go harder next time."

You let out a whine of protest as he pulled you up a couple more steps. The thought of what "going harder" implied made you pale. Was he going to make you run a marathon next??

"What kinda logic is that..."

The two of you made you way up another flight of stairs before Bakugou felt you slowing down behind him again. He stopped, and when you caught up to him and he took the opportunity to poke your forearm, and then your stomach. His hands went down to your leg before you slapped him away.

"Hey what are y-"

"You're still too soft."

This time it was your turn to be annoyed. "Excuse me?"

His lips quirked up into a tiny smirk. "As much as I like your body as it is..." a hand reached to your butt only to be slapped away once again. Your cheeks reddened and you puffed up in indignation.

"...you need to build more muscle if you want to be a hero."

You pursed your lips and reluctantly nodded in agreement. Bakugou grabbed hold of your hand again and urged you forwards. He had a cuddling session to look forward to and his impatience was growing.

"Okay I get it! So stop pulling me! I'm not as strong as you and I can't help that I'm sore!"

"And what, you're going to let that stop you?" He let out a huff of breath before continuing on. "if that's your excuse then you've given up already. You should be working even harder then if you want to be strong."

He let out a low sigh when he saw the look of hurt on your face. Sometimes the words he said just didn't come out the way he intended. After all, didn't mean to be cross with you, but it's just that he wanted for you to become a hero just as badly as you did. He wasn't good at vocal motivation or flowery words so he helped you in the way he knew best: training you so that your body could keep up with your quirk. But he wasn't cruel, and seeing that you were truly in pain did make him feel guilty.

"I... I'm trying. I really am Kacchan." You said sadly, suddenly feeling ashamed to be so weak. You felt that by complaining, you had let him down in some way. "Look, I'm obviously moving too slow for you so just go ahead and get ready and I'll be at your room soon okay?"

He let out  grunt of annoyance and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. You thought that he really was going to turn around and sprint up the stairs without you. The grip on your hand tightened for a second before he pulled your arm up and around his shoulder, almost dislodging your bag of toiletries.

"Woah woah hey!"

Another hand wound around your waist and tugged your against him, Bakugou's own bag of toiletries slapping against your thigh. He half dragged you up a couple steps, the sudden pull at your shoulder causing you to lose your footing. Eyebrows furrowing, he cast you a grumpy glare.

"Move your damn feet before I haul your ass up these goddamn steps."

"Okay I'm going I'm going!" You grumbled, starting to move your feet. It was considerably less painful with Bakugou now supporting some of your weight. As he helped you up, you took a moment to appreciate just how impressively strong he was. He trained just as hard if not harder than you today, and even if he was sore, he didn't complain or show it. And after all that he still had the strength to help you when you were tired. It was honestly very admirable. Maybe one day, if you worked hard enough, you would be able to match his stamina.

A couple flights of steps later and the two of you finally reached his floor. Bakugou let the arm around his shoulders drop, but still made sure to keep his hand around your waist in case your legs were still wobbly.

"Thank you..." you sighed and you two trekked towards his room. He jammed his keys into the lock, throwing the door open and pulling you in. Not even bothering to turn the lights on, you dropping your toiletries on the floor and so did he, before he unceremoniously dumped you onto his bed. Sitting up with a pout, you kicked off your shoes and scooted in.

"Get in we don't have all day." He grumbled, collapsing next to you as soon as you gave him enough room to do so. You snuggled into the blankets, reveling in the familiar smell and cushy sheets that always seemed more comfortable than your own. He turned around the face you, and a hand wriggled it's way under your body. Before you even had a chance to squirm away he had flipped you on top of him, arms locking around your torso to keep you there. You took the opportunity to snuggle into his chest, letting your legs get tangled with his.

And at last, the two of you were comfy. You let out a tired sigh and you felt his chest rise and fall underneath you as he did the same. After a few quiet minutes, you felt his hands slip down to your thighs.

"Are you really that sore?"

"Uh huh..." You said quietly, teetering on the brink of sleep but fighting your heavy eyelids to talk to Bakugou.

"We... we can go slower tomorrow."

"No." You grumbled into his shirt. "You said 'we need to go harder.'"

"Try-hard." He chuckled.

A few more moments of quiet passed and you were practically asleep when he spoke again.

"Are you still awake?"

When you didn't respond, he let out a sigh, hands leaving your legs to run through your hair. He knew that tomorrow, you'd drag him out of bed nice and early and make him spar with you. Even though on some nights, you were burnt out beyond measure, somehow you always surprised him by getting up and pushing yourself further. Just as you considered him admirable for his strength, he found your determination inspiring. Giving your still damp hair one last stroke, he closed his eyes.

"Good night (y/n)."

[whyamistillwatchingtheseshows]

Ik this would change the whole dynamic of their evolution but, can we pretend beam never left forth the morning after?

Verison 1: Actually, it wouldn’t. I’d venture to say Beam staying would’ve been worse and they could still have the same conversation. It’s just Beam still being there in the morning would give Forth too much hope. Give him a message that says okay so we can go ahead with this. We can continue to explore this...but that hope can temporarily be shattered. 

Version 2: Beam deals with the emotions instead of running. Sure, not out loud. They still haven’t properly communicated. They’d do that later after coming down from drunk sex and then probably some more delicious mouth watering foreplay. (it’s not explicitly mentioned) but my theory is, if Beam stayed. Forth would make attempts for round 2 asap.

Version 1 ( Nearly the same. Forth just doesn’t have to chase him). 

A heavy arm dropped onto his waist. Forth groaned a little bit. Beam mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Forth’s eyes popped open. Wait, what? Oh, yeah. He grabbed Beam’s hand to pull his arm over him a little tighter. Lips hovered against his shoulder. Images of the night before flashed inside his head. Damn, so many positions. Did he dare ask? 

“Are you okay?” The softness of Forth’s voice would take getting used to. Beam found himself really liking it, but he wouldn’t admit that right now. Suddenly, he felt every inch of his body. Stiffness. Soreness. Fuck. 

“I will be fine,” Beam yawned then surprisingly pressed a kiss to Forth’s shoulder. Okay, this guy is fucking with me. 

“Beam, you know we have to actually talk about this.” 

“Later. We can talk later.” Beam started to fall back to sleep when the door was busted open. 

Forth sat upright, staring at Laem. “Really? Forth!” Beam was now upright too. Laem rolled his eyes. “I meant to put him in bed and leave him there! Not sleep with him. In my bed!” 

“We were drunk,” Beam offered the excuse. Forth gave him a miffed sideways glance.

“I don't care. Get out!” Laem was one of the lucky ones who apparently could quickly recover from hangovers, because when Beam and Forth headed downstairs the rest of their friends were groaning and moaning on the couch. They didn’t notice the two of them leave.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Forth noticed the limp all the way to Beam’s car. 

“I said later. Let’s talk about it later.”

“Are we going to schedule a time, because that seems like it could be never. As in, you want to avoid talking about this.” 

“As I told Laem we were drunk. That’s it, right? It’s a whim.” Forth scoffed at him. 

“A whim. No, I don't buy it. I can’t.” Forth realized now the impact that last night had on him. After all this time, he wondered if somewhere there lingered inside him a “more than friends” feelings for Beam. This morning when an arm snuggled him and lips kissed his shoulder that definitely felt different. Perhaps it’s all a whim? Post-hangover shit still clouding Beam’s judgment. 

“Can we just forget about this?” Beam was opening the car door now. 

“No, because I don't do one night stands.” Beam got into the car. Forth put his hand on the door before he could close it. “You’re disgusted by me.” 

“No, I’m disgusted with myself and that’s that. Later please when I’m less sore.” Beam knew how much of a dick he was being, but he also wanted this confusion in his head to go away. He wanted his blood pressure to settle down. He wanted to stop feeling lonely even after having some much needed company. Forth watched him drive away. He angrily mounted his motorcycle, half-tempted to follow Beam. No, give him the space, but you sure as hell won’t let him forget about it. He started up and went the opposite direction. 

Version 2 (It starts here and they don't care what anyone thinks.) 

Forth rolled to his side. To say he slept would be a lie. At one point his body caved from possible exertion and exhaustion. However, actually sleeping. No, it barely happened. They’ve slept in the same room before. As friends, it happens that way sometimes. Forth seemed to be unaware of how loudly Beam snored. He was sure getting the best sleep of his lifetime. Forth, on the other hand, laid awake dreaming of several scenarios in which he smothered him with a pillow. 

“Beam!” Forth yelled. Nothing. “Beam!” Fine. Let’s try this. Forth pressed his lips to Beam’s. Apparently, what he needed was a touch to wake him. Beam lazily kissed back, eyes fluttering open to see Forth’s smirking face above him. 

“Sleep alright?” Beam sensed sarcasm in his voice. 

“Did you not?” 

“Someone snores like a dog.”

“Do not.”“Yeah, okay, fine. I was just imagining it the whole night.” Beam jumped him. For a moment, Forth immediately forgot about how tired he was. As Beam straddled him hands ran up and down his bare thighs. “Someone feels better?” 

“A little sore,” Beam admitted. “Not completely cured, but better.” Forth squeezed his thighs. Beam intertwined their fingers and then pinned his arms above his head. Sure, Beam, we can keep exploring this. 

Forth watched, mesmerized by the scene before him: Beam leaning down to kiss him. He bit his lip. Forth learned that biting was Beam’s favorite thing. Lips. Fingers. Shoulders. Forth wouldn’t be surprised to find marks on himself later. Forth leaned up and squirmed his hands out of Beam’s grasp so that he could grab his face. Forth then grabbed a handful of hair and jerked his head back. His wet lips found his neck just as the door busted open. 

Laem covered his eyes. “Ahhhh! No. No No! Not in my bed. You HAD SEX IN MY BED!” He didn’t dare look. Forth and Beam were frozen in position. Since, Laem wasn’t looking Forth still placed a kiss to Beam’s neck. Beam chuckled. 

“Give us a minute to get dressed,” Forth told him. 

“Fine. But I’m standing right here, eyes covered because I’m afraid if I close this door again you two will just continue that.” Laem really still did have one hand over his eyes and with the other he wildly gestured his disapproval of them being in his bed. 

“You know,” Forth moved and so Beam got off him. “I could just close the door.” He crossed his arms and stood in the doorway. Naked. Beam had a great view of that ass. Shit. Okay. His confusion hadn’t gone away. Temporarily he could forget about these feelings he thought he had for Kit. Now, he has to deal with more. Great. Nice one, Beam. Who the fuck told you to make this decision? Drunk or not. It was yourself.

“Try it!” Laem yelled at him, eyes still covered. “Get your fucking clothes on. The both of you!” He magically pointed at Beam which made him a little uncomfortable. Before, Beam grabbed his clothes he wrapped his arms around Forth who still stood in the doorway. Forth leaned into him, feeling kisses on his back. Yeah, this was a nice feeling. Definitely want more of this. 

He turned around. “We should get dressed.” Forth pulled on his jeans. Didn’t bother with a shirt. Beam felt grateful for that. He didn’t say that out loud, but he was thankful. “All right, all right, we’re decent. You can look now.” 

Laem reluctantly lowered his hand. “Good. Now, get the fuck out of my room.” He mocked kicking them as they exited. They ran down stairs, Forth pulling his shirt on now. There was some cheers from the others but they ignored them and hurried out the door. 

“Shall we go for round 2? A sober round.” Forth gasped at the thought. Beam smiled at him as they approached his car. 

“You’re going to have to give me some time.” 

“I know. I saw the limp. Though, there are a million other things we could do.”

“A million seems wildly inaccurate.” 

“Okay, right now,”  Forth rolled his eyes. “Two things come to mind.” He leaned down and whispered in Beam’s ear. 

“That’s doable. My mouth waters at the thought.” Has he always been this dirty minded? Damn, Forth, he was right next to you this whole time. In all truthfulness, Beam was never that vocal so he never really knew. 

“For now, I’ll settle on another kiss and then we can talk later?” Beam had no idea where this nerve was coming from, but he’d settle with the fact that last night took away some loneliness, abetted the confusion and he felt different. Forth backed him into the car door. 

“That I can do Doctor.” He put a hand to his cheek. Beam bit his own lip this time. Forth rolled his eyes and connected their lips. After several minutes, Forth pulled his lips away. Beam moved from the door, Forth opened it for him, he climbed inside. Beam rolled down the window. Forth couldn’t resist. He leaned in and kissed Beam on the forehead. Beam shyly smiled and started the car. He waved. Forth dreamily mounted his motorcycle. Follow him. Oh, would that be too stalkerish, too clingy? You already know where his dorm is at...yeah, you’re gonna follow him.

[artificialqueens]

leave a light on (for me) (Kamjie) - Mac

AN: Thank you to Alex and madisonmateomicheals for helping me out with this premise. You are both stars. Also a HUGE thank you to Multi and Jole for beta-ing and being lovely as always.

Summary: Kameron has all this new technology so that her whole house rigged up to follow her commands. The only problem is, Vanjie’s is the only voice it recognizes.

Dane loved his new house.

It was fresh and clean and modern. It had enough space that Dane could host parties and get-togethers and even let a few of his sisters crash at his place if they needed to. The kitchen was huge, and the floors were wood, and his cooling bills weren’t as astronomically high as in Nashville.

But his favorite thing by far about his new house was the technology. He had hooked up all his lights in all his rooms together. Linked his Alexas. He even had a smart fridge that told him which food was about to spoil. He had essentially turned his apartment into a smart house. The inner 10-year-old nerdy science fair winner couldn’t help but smile giddily at how the commands from his mouth turned the lights on and off, made his fireplace roar to life, and played his music so loudly he was sure his neighbors hated him.

He didn’t care. He had finally found his place. A place that he made and bought and paid for with the money he earned doing what he loved.

It was a dream.

Jose also liked it.

Which was… not as important as Dane liking it, but it was nice to have his boyfriend treat the space like his own.

It had been a little over a year since they started dating, and about six months into having his own sanctuary when Dane’s tech started malfunctioning. Namely, his lights.

He distinctly remembered waking up with a full bladder to a dark room, a small arm thrown over his waist, and a goofy smile on his face.

“Bedroom lights low,” Dane spoke, and Jose buried his face in Dane’s chest in preparation for the coming light.

A few seconds ticked by.

Then a few more seconds ticked by.

The lights didn’t turn on.

Dane sighed. “Bedroom lights low,” he said more forcefully this time.

Still, nothing happened.

Dane cursed under his breath and made a move to get up, but Jose held him fast. “Nooooo, stay here.”

“I gotta get the lights on, baby.”

“Lemme try.”

Dane smiled a bit, “Have at it, but your voice is nothing like mine, I don’t think it will-”

“Turn the lights on, Alegra!”

Suddenly, the bedroom filled with light.

After wincing at the blinding white for a few seconds, Dane looked over at his boyfriend, then his lights, then his boyfriend again, confusion evident on his face.

“How-”

“You jus gotta be forceful wit it.” Dane still was looking at him like he was crazy. “Watch,” Jose said and sat up more in bed. “Alandra!”

“That’s not-”

“Turn on some music!”

The soothing sound of a gaming soundtrack filled the bedroom a moment later.

“The fuck is this? This ain’t music.”

Dane opened his mouth to argue that the Dark Souls theme song was most assuredly real music, but Jose cut him off again.

“Alexandra!”

“Still not her name-”

“Play Rihanna!”

And just as it had a moment ago, the music changed to a recognizable melody with a thrumming bass.

Jose smiled, proud of himself laid back down, and curled up to Dane’s side.

“How the fuck does that work for you?” Dane wondered aloud.

Jose just shrugged, and after his boyfriend remained sitting up, Jose sighed and pulled his boyfriend back down to the bed. He crawled up to lay on top of Dane and kissed him until he stopped thinking so much.

That was the first time it happened.

Over the next few months, whenever Dane would give a command for his home system to complete, nothing would happen, or after a short period of time, everything would happen all at once and scare the absolute shit out of him.

But no matter what Jose did or said, or called the system, it did just as he demanded. Dane had accepted it as a part of life, and while he found it inconvenient, he was rarely home as it were, so it wasn’t too irksome.

After Werq finished for the year, the couple didn’t leave Dane’s bed for over a week. They roused themselves up enough to order Postmates, trade exhausted kisses over their bed - turned dining table, and that was about it.

When they finally started feeling like humans and not adrenaline-driven sleep-deprived robots, they migrated to the living room.

Dane flipped on some Lifetime movie and let Jose meld himself to his side. The older man ran his fingers lazily through Jose’s hair, and he swore Jose started purring.

Jose tilted his head up every now and then for a kiss.

It went on that way peacefully for a few hours, until Jose got bored, as he often did, and took the commercial break as an opportunity to properly kiss his boyfriend. Dane smiled against his lips as Jose deepened the kiss. Somehow Jose ended up in his lap, and Dane’s large hands found themselves pressed to Jose’s thighs with his chest flush against the younger man.

When the two pulled back to catch their breaths, Jose tilted his head a bit then raised his voice to a shout.

“Alana! Set the mood!”

“Setting the mood.” Came an automated voice.

Suddenly the lights dimmed in the living room, the TV flipped off, and some slow melody with a thrusting bass rang out in the previously silent room. Jose leaned back down to capture Dane’s lips, but the older man stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“When did you have time to do all that?” Dane chuckled.

“Think of it as a welcome home present,” Jose winked.

Dane laughed again, and Jose kissed the smile he had left there. “I still don’t understand why it works for you! Your voice is so much lower than mine!”

Jose sighed agitatedly, eager to get back to their previous activities, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, big man, just kiss me.”

Dane didn’t have to be told twice.

…

“The fuck you mean, I don’t care ‘bout you? Why the fuck you think I’m always over here? I ain’t been home in months. I came to see yo ass first thing I do, and you sayin’ I don’t care ‘bout you?”

Dane snapped.

He was tired and lonely, and he didn’t mean it.

“You never answer your phone! You’re always too tired or too busy to pick up the damn phone. How the hell can we have a relationship if you aren’t fucking here?”

“What’re you sayin’?”

The room was suddenly eerily silent. All the fire and fury in Jose’s eyes a moment ago was replaced with worry. Tears pricked the edges of the younger man’s eyes as if he knew Dane’s next words.

“I’m saying I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He didn’t mean it. But at the same time he did.

Long-distance relationships were hard as it was, the added pressure of fame, and followers only made it more so. Jose had never been good at answering texts on time. Dane had known that from the start. But he had brought it up so many times, and so many times Jose had promised he’d do better.

Nothing had changed.

Other than touring getting longer and schedules getting busier and hardly any time to breathe, let alone call.

Dane knew it was unfair to expect to be Jose’s number one priority, and he didn’t. He just wanted to be a priority. And it felt like he wasn’t anymore. Not the way he used to be.

So he snapped.

As soon as he said it, Dane knew he hadn’t meant it.

But the damage had already been done. So why not double down?

“You should go.”

Jose looked at him for a long moment, emotions playing like a slideshow behind his eyes. Then, he looked at the ground and left without another word.

…

Having to climb the four flights of stairs to his apartment after a grueling leg workout left Dane with barely enough energy to fish his keys out of his pocket. He managed to gather enough strength to put the key in the lock and turn it. It was quite a victory in Dane’s opinion.

“Alexa, all lights on,” Dane called out.

Nothing happened.

Dane stopped in the doorway. He looked around at his still dark apartment.

“All lights on,” he said, louder this time.

Still, nothing happened.

Dane sighed and rummaged around in the dark for a few moments before finding the couch from memory. He plopped down on the cool suede, his newly sore muscles already relaxing into the plush comfort. He sat for a moment in the darkness, brow still furrowed at why his lights wouldn’t turn on.

It took the third try before Dane got an idea.

He made his voice gruff and pitched it several octaves lower. “Lights turn on.”

In a second, the apartment was illuminated.

Dane’s heart sank.

Of course.

Of course, his fucking house still only seemed to recognize Jose’s voice. Or at least, his very terrible impression of Jose’s voice.

Dane felt a wave of emotions pass over him.

Mostly sadness.

He got up from the couch and made his way to the shower. He tried to not notice how the shower nozzle was tilted so that it angled downward more than Dane usually liked. He didn’t move it, even if the water didn’t fully enclose him in its manufactured warmth.

The tile felt especially cold on his feet, but he paid it no mind. He paid no mind to the extra toothbrush by his sink or the dirty towels that littered the floor, either. He’d pick them up tomorrow.

He didn’t pick them up the next day.

Or the day after.

He never moved the showerhead, never threw away the toothbrush, never figured out how to fix his lights.

Sometimes he would come home and not be able to bring himself to mimic his ex-lover’s voice. Some days it was just too much. He would sit in the dark and pretend that he liked it better that way.

One night everything changed.

Kameron had a local gig. Some bar around the corner that she had agreed to ages ago. It was a small affair, something to get her back on her feet. It felt good, Dane had to admit, Kameron always felt good, like an old friend.

She performed her heart out, channeled her pain in the form of an extra toothbrush into a performance that ranked in her top ten.

Dane was buzzing after the show, his fellow sisters complimented him, the ones that knew about the breakup gave him sad but knowing smiles.

“The first one back is always the hardest.” Asia had told him.

And it had been hard, it had been hard in all the same ways it had been incredible.

Dane checked his phone. He had three missed calls from Asia and one voicemail that he couldn’t make out over the pounding music from the club speakers. He shrugged and motioned for another shot from the bartender. He’d ask her about it tomorrow.

Only when he turned around to face the rest of the club did his eyes meet familiar brown ones.

Jose was watching him over the crowd, which was impressive given his height.

Dane broke eye contact as soon as his brain made the connection.

What was he doing here? There was literally no reason for him to be here. Dane agreed to this gig precisely because it was so small. This wasn’t a coincidence.

Dane downed his shot and another without thinking.

When he turned around, Jose had moved from his spot on the wall and was getting closer.

Dane turned back to the bar and gripped the wood with his whole hand, knuckles white, mind spinning due to the proximity to his ex and the added liquor. He braced himself for the tap on his shoulder or the familiar voice, but it didn’t come. He turned around slowly. Jose was nowhere to be seen.

Dane exhaled and made his way to the exit, stumbling occasionally. He couldn’t be here anymore. Couldn’t bear to see those deep brown eyes again.

He grabbed his stuff, throwing wigs and clothes into his duffle with little regard for their worth. He would fix them up in the morning. He reasoned with himself.

He pulled out his phone and made his way out of the club through the back door. He was so absorbed in ordering an uber that he hardly noticed the other body making its way back into the club.

The added alcohol made his fall that much more surprising.

In a flash, Dane was on the ground with what he knew was going to be a nasty bump on his head in the morning.

Without thinking, Dane took the hand that was offered to him and tried to right himself. He only succeeded in almost falling over again.

“You okay there, big man?”

Only then did he realize who had helped him up.

Dane yanked his arm back like it burned, and maybe it did.

Jose looked hurt, maybe he was.

The two looked at each other for a moment, all pain and rage, and sadness evident in their eyes.

“Let me help.” Jose finally whispered. “Please.” He added before Dane could snap at him.

Dane didn’t know why he nodded. He wasn’t that drunk.

He knew it.

Jose knew it.

But he found himself nodding anyways, and before he could think, Dane was being led by the hand into a car and hearing his own address out loud. The drive felt like seconds, and Jose’s fingers interlocked with his felt like home.

The stairs were a challenge, but the two, after much finagling and encouragement, managed to get to the door.

Jose let himself into Dane’s apartment without so much as a heartbreak.

He helped Dane out of his shoes and steered the taller man toward the couch to sit down for a moment.

“You gonna get the lights?” Jose spoke softly.

“They don’t work for me anymore. Not since you…” Dane trailed off, not because he didn’t want to offend Jose, but because he didn’t know if he could say it himself. Since you left.

Jose nodded, expression blank. “Then don’t worry ‘bout that now, we gotta get you to bed.”

Dane hummed noncommittally.

Jose pulled Dane up from the couch, and the two came face to face for the first time that night. They were inches apart. Dane knew his breath reeked of booze and longing, but Jose didn’t seem to mind as he instinctively moved closer to the taller man.

“JJ, I-”

Jose winced at the nickname. “No, no, babe, don’t.”

Dane didn’t let it go.

“What happened to us? We were so good once.”

“We not doin’ this now.”

Jose tried to move away, but Dane held fast.

“What were you doing there? Tonight?”

“I was in the area.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Jose sighed. “No, I wasn’t.”

The silence that stretched between them was so quiet it almost screamed.

Dane wanted to shake himself, wanted to say all the things he had rehearsed for this exact moment.

His mouth wouldn’t work.

And as the time stretched on, he started losing hope that it ever would.

Jose shook his head, finally breaking eye contact. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay.”

Jose lead Dane to the bedroom with their fingers interlocked. He helped Dane out of his shirt and restricting pants and sat on the edge of the bed as Dane finally laid down.

“You gonna be alright, big man?”

Dane nodded even though he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be alright.

“Good.”

Jose made to stand up, but Dane’s hand shot out to grab his arm. “Don’t go.”

“Babe-”

“JJ, please.”

Jose looked from his ex to the bedroom door then back to his ex.

The pleading in Dane’s eyes should have made him embarrassed, but he couldn’t care about that right then. He just needed Jose to stay.

Jose nodded after a minute and sat back down. “But you gotta promise to go to sleep now, yeah?”

Dane nodded happily and intertwined their fingers again.

“Activia, turn the lights off.”

Dane was out in minutes.

Jose waited a bit longer than strictly necessary to pry his hand out of the older man’s grip, and even then, he waited still. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t know why.

Jose looked up at the ceiling and wondered aloud.

“Alexa, why the fuck is this so hard?’

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

[elisaphoenix13]

To Lose Everything...(Ch.5)

It took a couple more months for Peter to don his Spiderman suit again, and it was only because of some coaxing from Stephen. As much as he wanted to keep Peter inside and safe (Wong had teasingly called him Mom again when he mentioned this to him), the teen was getting antsy. He didn't even realize that he missed being Spiderman. Stephen told him to try a couple of hours out and if he still wasn't ready, he could return home and try later. Peter wasn't not ready, he just decided that it would be best to go out on a gradient. Two hours turned into four, then six...then eventually he stayed out until the curfew that Stephen had set. The curfew wasn't entirely strict in the regards that if Peter was dealing with something close to curfew, he was to tell either Stephen or Wong.

That had only happened once so far, and Peter got home ten minutes after and apologized. He really was a good kid. The teen always looked exhilarated after his patrol, and also a bit tired, and Stephen would just send him up to bed with a glass of water and a late night snack. Something healthy that wouldn't give him much energy but would at least fill him up enough so that he wasn't waking up in the middle of the night with a growling stomach. That had happened one night, and no matter how quiet Peter tried to be, he had still woken up Wong and felt terrible about it. Stephen had to come up with the solution to give him a snack because Peter wouldn't go back down to the kitchen in the middle of the night for fear of waking one of them.

Then, one of Stephen's newest fears had come to fruition. Peter had gotten hurt during patrol and Karen was the one to call him (a protocol that the teen changed with Ned's help to contact either Stephen or Wong instead. Happy was kept on in case they weren't available).

The Sorcerer Supreme had been reading when he got the dreaded call. "What is it Peter?" He asks when he answers the call.

"Doctor Strange, Peter has been shot and he's losing an alarming amount of blood--" Karen's voice filters through the phone and Stephen jumps to his feet.

"Where?!"

When Karen gives him Peter's location, he shouts to Wong about the situation as he creates a portal and steps through. The sight that met him had his heart clenching and the blood draining from his face. Peter was face down in an alley with a pool of blood surrounding him, and completely motionless. Stephen rushes over and falls to his knees beside the teen and quickly looks over his wounds to assess the damage. To his relief, Peter had groaned at being moved and the sorcerer cloaks the entrance to the alleyway before he pulls off the kid's mask.

"No...no...can't see me..." Peter protests weakly.

"It's okay Peter. It's only me." Stephen soothes immediately and starts on checking for exit wounds. It wouldn't be a good idea to move him right now.

"Hehe..." The teen snickers and the doctor immediately chalks that up to shock from blood loss. "Hey Doctor Strange?" Stephen only grunts to let the boy know he was listening. If it kept him awake, he would listen. "You're kinda like a mom...you know that?" Stephen falters for only half a second before focusing on healing Peter. "You hug me even though I know that's not your thing...sometimes send me to bed with a juice box..." Peter giggles again at that. "And I know you astral project to watch me sometimes. Wong told on you."

Stephen listens to Peter ramble about all the 'motherly' things that the sorcerer does but only takes it with a grain of salt. Peter was in shock and he wouldn't even remember any of it in the morning. It didn't mean that he didn't feel good hearing about it though. It showed how much Peter had noticed what Stephen was doing for him, and how appreciative he was.

"...you have a mom smell too." Peter says matter-of-factly.

Stephen chuckles. "A mom smell?"

"Yup...you smell like tea leaves and that stuff you burn...what's it called?"

"Incense?"

"Yeah...that stuff." Peter slurs as he begins to lose consciousness. "Smells like home now..." He then blinks rapidly to momentarily clear his undoubtedly blackening vision. "You have big Mom energy...I'm gonna call you that now."

Stephen tilts his head as he finishes healing the boy. "Call me what?"

"Mom." Peter replies as he finally loses his battle with sleep and nods off against Stephen's thigh, where the sorcerer had placed his head moments before.

Wong had been right, but Peter wouldn't remember this would he? It actually kind of...hurt. He genuinely wouldn't mind if the teen called him that, because he was finding out very fast how easy it was to get attached to Peter. His happiness was contagious (now that they were getting the old Peter back), and even Wong hadn't minded it when the teen sat on the ceiling above them while they studied, eating chips. When a Dorito fell out of his hand and landed in Stephen's open book, the doctor merely picked it up and ate it...then motioned for more. It turned into a comfortable setting. Peter would sometimes sit with them while they read and usually brought a snack that they would all share between them.

Stephen sighs and pulls Peter into his arms as he moves back to his feet, and dismisses the illusion at the mouth of the alley before stepping back through the portal he had arrived in. It closes behind him as he carries Peter up to the teen's room, and after he double checks the boy's injuries, puts him in bed and sits in the desk chair.  He was just going to make sure Peter really was okay before he started dinner. The kid had only been out on patrol for a couple of hours and--

An unwelcome shift from the Sanctum alerted Stephen minutes later and he audibly growled. Someone was trying to attack the Sanctum and Stephen really wasn't in the mood. He stands (sparing a glance back at Peter to make sure he was sleeping), and makes his way down to the foyer as magic crackles in his hands. He was beyond upset. His kid was hurt and someone had the audacity to attack his Sanctum?! Not today. He levitates down the rest of the way with the cloak's help and a couple of rogue sorcerers actually flinch back when he comes into their view. Even Wong looked a little frightened.

"Sorcerer Supreme--" One of the rogues start and Stephen snarls.

"NOT...NOW!" He shouts and release a wave of magic as multiple portals open and drag the small group of rogues into them before they have a chance to say anything more. 

Once the portals close, Wong looks up at him in bewilderment. "Why haven't you done that before?"

Stephen inhales deeply to calm himself and the magic at his hands slowly dissipates. "Do what?"

"Stephen...your eyes were glowing green. You banished five rogues with just a thought!" Wong exclaims and Stephen blinks.

"I...didn't know I could do that." He confesses.

Wong studies him for a few moments and then his eyes fill with understanding. "I think it's because you had nothing to lose before."

Stephen levitates down completely onto the first landing of the stairwell and looks at his hands in wonderment. He had conjured powerful magic with a thought...and that was because he was protecting Peter. Before, he had nothing to live or die for and that was how he used his magic, but now? Now he had Peter. He had something, someone to protect. To fight for.

"...you're like a mother bear." Wong says with a smirk. "Your cub was injured and in the cave and you were protecting him."

"Enough with the analogies Wong." Stephen says dryly and turns to return to Peter's room.

"When's dinner?"

The doctor sighs heavily and climbs the stairs back up to the teen's room and finds Peter sprawled out on his bed. An indication that he was already healing and would be fine. So Stephen gives him one more look over, and pauses when Peter stirs at his touch.

"...hungry Mum..." Peter slurs sleepily.

Stephen had responded without a second thought to what the teen had just called him. "I'm about to make dinner. Just rest until it's ready." 

"Hnn...kay..."

Stephen leaves when soft snores escape the teen and makes his way down into the kitchen where he starts something quick and simple for dinner. Peter would need it to help his body replenish the blood he had lost (thankfully Peter didn't need a transfusion), and he was sure Peter would have a large appetite with how much his body was working to heal itself right now. Stephen had done most of the work, but it was only to get him out of a critical condition and be able to safely transfer him home. Large quantities of dinner was a must tonight. At least more than usual. Even he needed some sustenance. The magic he had used just minutes ago drained him quite a bit, but not enough to make him tired.

Halfway through cooking dinner, it had hit him. Peter had actually called him 'Mom'. Was he healed enough to realize it? Or maybe he was still half-asleep? Maybe Stephen would just wait and see if it happened again. If it brought it up, Peter was bound to get embarrassed and apologize.

"Smells like pasta." Peter sluggishly walks into the kitchen and sits at the table where he folds his arms and lays his head on top of them.

"With chicken." Stephen says as he turns off the stove and fills a plate for himself and the teen. "I thought I told you to rest."

"I did until I smelled food." Peter sits up when the sorcerer sets a full plate in front of him. "Thanks."

Stephen hums in acknowledgement and sits across from him to dig into his own meal, and Wong soon joins them a couple minutes later. Stephen knew the smell of food would lure the other man, so he hadn't bothered shouting. Their meal passed quietly, not quiet silently since they still held conversations, but not as loud as usual because Peter was tired and sore from his earlier wounds and didn't have the energy to ramble about his day.

"Are you in pain?" Stephen asks and Peter shrugs.

"Not so much anymore. Your magic helped a lot."

The doctor stops his fork halfway to his mouth and looks at Peter incredulously. "Wait...you remember everything?"

Peter blushes. "Uh...yeah...sorry about that."

Stephen smiles softly. "I don't mind."

Wong looks between the two of them. "What? What happened?"

"Nothing." Stephen says at the same time Peter says, "I called him Mom."

"Thanks kid." Wong says and Peter looks at him in confusion.

"For what?"

Stephen silently hands over some cash and Wong beams. "You made me fifty bucks richer and proved me right."

[minlucent]

block party (m) ⎪01

➾ pairing: reader x jeon jungkook

➾ word count: 4k

➾ genre: neighbor au, enemies to lovers au, smut, slight angst

➾ warnings: explicit sex, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, dom!jungkook, degradation, fingering, slight humiliation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, masturbation, basically pwp

➾ summary: moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake.

➾ a/n: so. i had planned for this to be originally a one shot but it became to long and i thought i was never gonna finish it. i was stressed out about not posting for a month and that stress hindered me from writing, so i figured if i do a series instead, i would at least have something down and it would give me time to think coherently about the next chapters instead of publishing shit just for the sake of it. hope this is enough for you guys! sorry!

➾ series:⎪01⎪02⎪

“Here, let me help you with that,” a sweet voice offered to take boxes out of your arms. You were moving into your new apartment, and as you stared up at the stairs in defeat, body weighing down from the luggage in your arms, you spin around to greet the stranger with gratefulness. 

Familiar eyes met yours as strong hands reached for the contents in your arms. You freeze upon recognition and stare at his face until it distorts in pain and a yelp of pain releases from his throat as he hunches over, reaching to his feet. It took you a moment to realize that your arms were now empty and that the boxes that you were previously occupied with were now sitting snuggly on top of the man’s foot.  

“What the fu–” his voice was cracking as he glanced up at you, getting a good look at your face for the first time. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he seemed to forget completely about the weight resting on his foot as he stared at you as if in a trance. 

You paused for a moment before snapping, “What does it look like?” He asked a dumb question and you knew he expected you to be like every other girl and put aside your pride to let him have as he wants. You made the mistake of being nice to him once, and that bit you in the ass. There was no way you were going to fall into his trap again.  

“I mean, yeah, I know you’re moving here, but like,” he stuttered trying to find the right words, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. This was the first time you’ve seen him nervous. “I just didn’t expect to see you here. I haven’t seen you for a long time. You never responded to my texts.” You raised your eyebrows. Was Jeon Jungkook really upset that a girl hadn’t come back for more?

Before summer break, you two had had classes together. You were always drawn to his good looks but turned off when you realized his way with women. You couldn’t blame them for falling for him—he was the golden boy: handsome, funny, a ton of friends. Nobody could say he wasn’t attractive, but you never wanted a piece of him. 

Occasionally, you would see him at a party, surrounded by his frat brothers, pointing and eyeing girls who walked in, trying to find someone for the night. They’d make crude jokes about the women of interest and less than an hour later, Jungkook had multiple women on his arms, surrounding him. Sometimes, he would go up with all of them, but if you ever saw any of them around campus the days following, the poor girl would be covering her neck, chest, and thighs, hiding the marks that Jungkook’s mouth had stained her skin with.  She would always walk a little funny, probably sore from the events of that night. 

You’ve heard stories – disgusting stories. He was known for treating women like sex toys, participating in gang bangs…  He had approached you multiple times, saying that he would make it worth it for you, but you always ignored his proposals, not wanting to be put on his long list of women. But you didn’t think it hurt his ego—he would just use the opportunity to find any other willing woman. 

You hated the way that he could get any women he wanted but threw them away like trash the next morning. No one deserves to be treated like that, but it was part of his everyday life. He would stare at you shamelessly, winking and blowing kisses ironically, but it just pissed you off more. He’d become too cocky as if he knew that you would cave in and sleep with him after his many attempts.

Now, as he stood in front of you, his eyes trained on you, you knew nothing had changed. “Yeah... I was busy.” You kept your words short and straight to the point. His eyes narrowed, irritated that you weren’t giving him a chance. He didn’t say anything as he picked up your boxes and made his way up the stairs in front of you.

He climbed the stairs with ease, the boxes seeming to weigh nothing as his arms and back flexed under his tight white shirt. God, he had a nice back. His tight ass and thick thighs flexed to walk up the stairs. You didn’t even notice he was at the top of the staircase until he called you, “Are you gonna come up and unlock your door or are you just gonna stare at me?” 

You picked up any remaining bags and stumbled up the stairs, a flush climbing up your neck, embarrassed at being called out. Once you reached the door, you said nothing as you slipped the key in. He followed you as you stepped inside, staring at the barren space that would now become your home. You looked for the bedroom, trying to find a place to set down your belongings.

He followed you around the apartment quietly and set down the boxes in his arms where you told him. He looked around the empty apartment; there was no furniture, no nothing, just plain grey walls and shabby carpet. The floor in the small kitchen was cheap linoleum, surrounding a small island and an oven with a stove on top. It was extremely barren. “You don’t have any furniture? Not even a bed?” he had a bit of concern in his voice. 

“No, not yet,” you sighed, making a mental note to call the moving company and see if they got lost. “But you can go now. I don’t need anything else.”

But he didn’t leave—he just stepped closer to you. “Really? That’s all I get? Not even a thanks?” he teases you with a smirk plastered on his face. He leans in, his chest centimeters away from yours, his height towering over you. “I thought we were friends?”

You immediately stepped away from him, hands on his chest to push him away. “We aren’t friends. I don’t want anything to do with your disgusting ass.” You’re about to pull your hands away from his chest, but he places a grip around your wrists to keep them firmly planted. “Let go,” you were fuming. 

“Nah, I think I like you like this...” One of his large hands wrapped around your wrists and the other pressed against the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. “And I have a feeling you like this too,” he quirks an eyebrow, “If I remember correctly, you were quite fond of my ass.”

You were beginning to feel flustered, but before you could fall into his trap again, you snap out of your daze.  You are pushing away from his arms with all your might just for him to release you, making stumble back, losing your balance. “Dick,” you growl at him as you try to regain your composure. 

“You only get that if you behave, sweetheart,” he winked at you as he turned on his heel, smiling at how red your face had become. “By the way, if you ever need a place to spend the night until you get a bed, I’m right next door,” his voice was laced with his ego as if he knew that you were going to go to him again. 

He closes the door behind him and you can feel your frustration rising. How can he be so shameless? You tried to distract yourself from the fact that you were living right next door to your biggest mistake by beginning to unpack your belongings and place all your clothes in the closet and toiletries in the bathroom. You didn’t have a dresser to put anything extra, so you were going to have to make do with the few suitcases you had. 

You have a small porch behind a sliding glass door in the back of your apartment and wanting to get out of the stuffy room, you plopped yourself on the cool wood of the small deck. A cup of cheap coffee that had now become cold was being clutched between your fingers, thinking back to before summer break had started. 

 You closed your eyes, and almost immediately, flashbacks from your one night with Jungkook crept into your mind.  His cocky smirk, his soft lips on your neck, his teeth on your nipples, his hands everywhere. You fucked up big time. You tried to remember how you even started talking to him that night. You were tipsy, you couldn’t think straight. It was then, in your intoxicated state, that you realized just how handsome Jungkook was.  

It was the last day before the summer break officially started and students having to be kicked out of campus for a couple of months. You had just finished your last final and you decided to celebrate at someone’s frat house that you were invited to.

You were in the backyard, peering at the sunset when you felt a cold liquid slide down your back. You shrieked, shocked by the sudden change to your body temperature. You spun around, ready to confront whoever was so careless to spill a drink on you when you saw him. 

“Shit,” your head fell into your palms when you locked eyes with him.

He just laughed, not even apologizing, “Wow, nice to see you too,” he grinned, flashing his classic smirk at you. You rolled your eyes as soon as you heard the annoying confidence in his voice–you wanted more than anything to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face.  

“It’s not my fucking fault your spilled your cheap-ass beer all over me…” you growled at him, “Now I’m soaked. Thanks, Jungkook.” As the words fell from your lips, you immediately regretted your diction.  

If anything, his grin grew wider. “That’s not the first time a hot girl said that to me.”

Your body betrayed you as you felt heat cover your face.  You had no idea why you were getting flustered; he repulsed you. Before your body would do anything else stupid, you shot back at him. “I swear to god, if this was some elaborate plan you had to get me to say that I will–” You stopped yourself mid-sentence, not wanting to let a dumbass to ruin your night. You took a deep breath an continued, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go dry this off or find something to change to.”

You didn’t look directly at Jungkook as you swept by him, but you could tell that was not the reaction he wanted.  You knew what he was like; he would get off just by pissing you off. Why he wanted to bother you, you had no idea–he could literally find any other girl that would enjoy his company a million times more.  

As you made your way through the jumble of sweaty and drunk bodies inside the crowded house, you navigated your way to the closest bathroom. Slamming the door shut, you peered into the mirror. Great, your shirt, which was white (perfect, you thought bitterly), was now translucent from the back. Fucking Jeon Jungkook…not only was there the tint of a stain, but your extremely revealing lace pushup bra was now visible to anyone who walked behind you.

Thinking quickly, you pulled off your shirt and decided to run the cloth under the tap, hopefully getting the stain off before it was too late. Then, you would find some way to dry it before you left the bathroom. You had it planned out.  

Your breasts were practically falling out of the skimpy lingerie, which you, for the most part, enjoyed looking at yourself in.  What can you say? You loved your breasts, and sometimes, you would just play with them and feel how soft they were. And honestly, who doesn’t? As you began to think that the stain was coming out of your shirt due to your vigorous scrubbing, you took a minute to just let the shirt soak in the water. Unable to help yourself, you bounced your breasts in your hands, loving to they way they jiggled in the mirror.

Knocking you out of your brief drunken daze, the door slams open, and it takes you a moment to recognize the man standing in front of you, staring at your chest, where your hands were pushing up your breasts. Immediately, you drop your hands to your side, staring Jungkook in the eyes, not nearly as embarrassed as you should have been.  

It took you a moment to realize that he was staring at your half-naked body, and you were about to reach for your shirt when you realized it was soaking wet, sitting in the sink.  Obviously noticing how flustered you were, he broke the silence. “Don’t let me stop you, Y/N. Just pretend I’m not here.” You stare at him with a blank face. “Go back to what you were doing,” he teased with a raised eyebrow. Is he fucking serious? 

You notice the way his pupils are blown out, the way his tongue is poking slightly at the side of his cheek.  You don’t know why you did it, but you listened to him. You put your hands back to where they were, squeezing yourself roughly.  Hearing him let out a hiss as you dipped your fingers in your bra to have direct contact with your skin, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.  

Next thing you knew, Jungkook’s hands were on you, tearing off the skimpy lace. You grinned up at him, knowing that he lost his self-control that he was always so proud of. “What’s so funny?” You didn’t answer, instead pulling his face towards yours and crashing your lips onto his. Suddenly, he pulled away. “Thought you were in charge?” 

Jungkook grabbed you by the shoulders and pressed your chest against the door, pulling your hips up so your ass was on display for him. His slid up your bare thighs and to the hem of your shorts, and in one swift motion, he squeezed your ass before pushing your shorts and underwear to the side. He licked his finger and pushed it into you, “Wet already, little girl?”

Slowly moving in and out of you, he dipped another finger inside of you, wanting to feel how wet and warm you were for him.  He loved it.  When you let out a gasp and clenched your thighs together, he knew he found your sweet spot. His other hand grabbed onto the back of your neck and pushed your cheek to the door,  Shaking his head, Jungkook whispered in your ear, sinking his teeth into your neck, “You’re making such a mess and I haven’t even given you my cock yet. What am I going to do with you?”

You were squirming underneath his touch, writhing in pleasure as he stroked the rough patch inside of you.  “I knew you’d cave in,” he breathed down your neck, sucking on the skin sharply before taking his fingers out of you and grinding them against your clit. “You act like such a good girl around everyone else, but you’re really just a dirty little whore aren’t you? Do you want me to make you my bitch, greedy girl?”

“Fuck, yes,” you groaned out as he thrust in his fingers particularly deep. Your legs had begun to tremble and you didn’t know how long you could remain standing. 

“Get on your knees, then” he commanded and you obliged.  He pulled his pants and his boxers down in one motion and his erection sprung up against his stomach. He was running his hand against the length of him, watching you become flustered under his intense stare. “Open up, sweetheart,” he said in a mocking voice.

He grabbed a handful of your hair with one hand, tugging your head towards his length while his other hand was guiding his cock into your mouth. Slowly easing it in, you swirled your tongue around his tip, loving the way he tasted. You teased him for a few moments before he thrust himself into your mouth completely. Tears began to form in your eyes as he began pumping into your throat.  

“You’re such a hot little slut right now, aren’t you? Letting me fuck your throat like a cockslut,” he grunted as he pulled harder on your hair, pushing himself even deeper into you.  You felt him pulsing in your mouth, and suddenly he pulled away, making you cough at the abrupt change. “Get up. Let me fuck you.”

You didn’t have time to even obey him as he hoisted you up from your waist, spinning you around and pressing you against the sink, making you look in the mirror and watch him.  Grabbing the waistband of your shorts, he only pulls is halfway down your thighs with your underwear, not even caring that it’s not all the way off. He just wanted to be inside you as soon as possible. You couldn’t help but thinking that Jeon Jungkook was about to take you from behind like a fucking animal in some frat boy’s bathroom. 

“Ah, so wet already? You like it when I call you my little slut?” he was stroking your core before you felt him pull away, reaching over into his jeans to pull out a condom. He swiftly opened the wrapper and slid it down his length before positioning himself behind you again. His large hand grasping onto your hips, he bent you down even further while his other wrapped around his cock, swirling it around your entrance. Without warning, he slammed himself into you, making you yelp out in surprise and pain. 

The pain soon started to fade, with you now loving the burn.  He was stretching you out perfectly and you could feel him completely as he pumped in and out of you at a torturously slow pace. “Say my name, slut,” he growled behind you, thrusting in deeper to get you to scream. 

“Jung-ah-kook, fuck” you groaned, resting your head in your arms at the intense feeling building inside of you. He wasn’t having it, though, as he gripped your hair and forced you to look upwards into the mirror. He was smirking at your fucked out expression through the mirror, gripping your jaw to make sure you looked straight at him.  

“Look at how fucked out you are, little girl. My pretty little cockslut can’t even keep her eyes open–is it too much for you baby?” he was mocking you now. This was the Jungkook you knew, who wanted to get you riled up at any cost.  

But, not wanting to play his dumb game, you ignore him.  “Ah, Jungkook,” he was trusting at a new found pace, “Right there.”

“Right here?” you could see his cocky smirk in the mirror, loving how wrecked you were becoming on his cock.  He began slowly thrusting at that exact angle over and over again, making you clench around him. Feeling you begin to pulse around him, he knew that you were close and he wanted you to come as hard as possible.  


“Come all over my cock, whore,” he grunted into your ear, one hand and your throat as the other fondled with your breast. “Soak my dick and show me how good I make you feel.” His grip tightened around your throat as the other slid down your stomach and to your clit. He was stroking your clit slowly, making your legs shake involuntary.  You threw your head onto his shoulder as you came over his cock, him wiping your juices from his finger on your cheek.

You were panting, leaning on him for support as he continued to fuck you shallowly. “Aw, did the little girl come too hard?” he said in a sickly sweet tone, pinching your nipple, smirking as you struggled to gain composure.

“Shu-shut up,” you tried to sound stern but instead you let out a choked sob as he pounded into you. His pace was harsher, making you scream with every thrust. The overstimulation had your eyes watering, your thighs clenching around his length. Your vision was blurry as you sobbed out, “Jungkook, it’s too much.”

“Shh, you’re a big girl. I know a slut like you can take it.” He pushed himself to the hilt, stopped moving, then pulled himself out, just to repeat the motion. The curve of his length was hitting every spot inside of you perfectly and you let out another sob. 

“Rub yourself,” he commanded you, but you shook your head, unable to form words as your eyes rolled back.  The palms of your hands were resting on the cool sink, your shoulders hunched down, not knowing how much more you could take.  

Jungkook, disappointed with your defiance, grabbed your hair roughly, forcing you to arch your back.  He liked you like this–it made your tits look good.  He hissed in your ear, “I told you to touch yourself, slut, so you’re gonna do it. Come all over my cock again. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

This time, you didn’t think twice before your hand feverishly rubbed yourself, overstimulation making you twitch in his grasp.  The pain was beginning to build up, but you didn’t stop until you were shaking underneath Jungkook from coming hard for the second time.  

Feeling your walls convulse around him, he pushed himself deeper, nesting himself in your warmth.  He twitched inside of you as you clenched hard, making him spill his juices into his condom. Resting for a few moments, he took in your wrecked form, sobbing as you fell into your arms on the sink. It turned him on more than anything to know that he made you that fucked out. He pulled out of you slowly, not wanting too cause any more overstimulation, and he spun you around and lifted you onto the sink. His lips pressed into yours and he felt you relax into his hold, tangling your arms around his neck.

 Now, months later, Jungkook lays in bed thinking about that night and how much of a coincidence it was that one of the best fucks of his life was also living next door to him now. He was proud, and although it got him going when you were rude to him, he wondered why didn’t you want to play nice–he knew he would make you.

He suddenly felt anger rise inside of him as he thought about how you went back to his place, only to leave before he could fuck you again in the morning. It wasn’t that he expected you to have sex with him, but it hurt his ego to think that you didn’t want him again. Were you really not interested? No, that couldn’t be it–no one ever fucks Jungkook and leaves feeling unsatisfied.  And from what he could tell, you had enjoyed it as much as him. So why were you so reluctant to talk to him?

He used to text you, trying to ask why you were avoiding him, trying to find any excuse to talk to you. But you weren’t having it–you never responded to any of his pleads. You didn’t want him to know, but you knew that if you went back to him once, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from going back again, and you knew that was the wrong path to go down.  

Thinking about how obedient you were that night was enough to get him hard.  He loved the way you got down on your knees and choked on his cock, hungry for him to fuck you. He slid down his pants just enough to grasp his cock and he began to flick his wrist up and down swiftly, wanting to come and get you out of his head. 

He loved how good you felt around him. God, you were so tight, especially when you came for him. Your walls clenched so tight around him that he could barely move, and you had become so sensitive that you had your juices dripping down his balls and thighs. He loved how you sobbed his name, not able to form coherent sentences because he was fucking you so well.  

He was close by now, twitching in his firm grasp. He imagined that it was your hand, your mouth, that was making him cum. He moaned out your name as thick ropes of cum scattered onto his chest. He threw his head back on the pillow, wishing you were there to lick up the mess you made.  

[indomitablemegnolia]

Had a night terror.... I wrote it out... and how I wish it was ended.

Flashes of fear, oxygen trapped, unable to leave my lungs, I am unable to draw any more air in; panic mingled with pains brutal edges, a horrible malice cut through my consciousness. Disorganized and frantic, I can't move; I panic more looking for danger, knowing it's there; figments, fragments of past terror. I can even smell the rank body odor feeling it singe my nostrils; my arms penned to my sides. I can't run, I can't scream, my heart breaks again and again, the cold broken shards dig into my numbed flesh.

I am trapped inside my own body, the pain of the struggle with my own paralysis tearing my muscles from bone; my brain is fractured, panic, the will to run, but my legs cast in stone, running isn't a possibility; my eyes cloud over, as if a giant dark figure had come and sat on my chest. Horror compounded with the terror, it was real there was a man holding me down; I couldn’t scream. I am going to die; air still trapped. Uselessly, I try to reason with terror, recounting, my broken thoughts; what man, where; that man, pinning ne down wrapping a scarf around ny neck, pulling; my mind, my thoughts a disaster, a train wreck; broken mangled memories, scarf now tighter around my neck; I am left, left to bleed on the asphalt, a victim. Tears running down around my temples, coursing like a river. Stop.

I pull myself back; focus, fear is the mind killer, stop; I press my my lungs to expelled the air trapped my eyes beginning to flash at the edges, lack of oxygen does that, as it coursed out it accumulated into a sob. My lithe words have abandoned me, what, what, all I am left with, left alone in an emotional mine field. Victim, damn dumb, stupid victim; there is no shadow; I close my eyes for a long moment opening them, no there wasn’t; there is no man, no scarf; you stupid girl. My mind so disassociated, I still can’t even work up an unpanicked breath,I am panicked I sob; my breath passing fast over my lips.

A nightmare; yes nightmare, that’s right, it was a nightmare that woke me, but truly more than a nightmare, less than a dream, more a reality revisited.  I come fully awake with an iron clad knot deep in my belly; the cold hits, my skin raw, slapped, shivering and anxiety coiling like thousands of snakes under my skin; I am frightened to the core. Air and screams trapped, captured; in my throat; my throat was raw sore, strangled screams damaging my windpipe as I choked on them. I breathe in through my nose for a twenty count; out for ten, my lips pursed. A cold eerie silence is what greets me on the other side of that total wakeful barrier.

Petrified I lie still, as flat as I can, willing the tremors and shakes to abate; slow my arm moves, it feels hundreds of pounds, swiping the cold sweat from my brow, but I can never wash it from my soul. The trick of the subconscious, when defenses are down, allowing all those fears, losses, grotesque experiences surface, those visitations from the past sneak back up to the top of my brain, I suffer the scourge yet again. Caustic emotions are only thing simmering on the top of my soul, as I surface completely from a night terror. Sometimes triggered by the date, an action or phrase but always it affects. 

I leaver up, taking an eternity to make it to my elbows; Once sitting up I swing my legs over the edge of the bed holding my head in my hands, still trying to stop the shivers that rack my body; counting breaths, counting heartbeats; ten, three, fourteen, six; go placidly amid the noise inside your skull; AH! Jesus, shit, shit, shit, shit; god I wish I had a cigarette; oh, for that matter I wish I smoked; a maniacal laugh escapes; no I am still not in hell, no one laughs in hell, right?

I push myself up to a standing position, it takes me long minutes, moments in a floating limbo to find my legs; they were shaky, wobbly, I used the wall to balance myself, I walk in a slow shuffle, my feet never leaving the surface of the floor. Just sliding along, like a ghost of gumby, a little Imhotep two-step, mummy shamble; I snicker; oh, sweet lord, again this isn't hell, no one laughs in hell; pathetic, I know, but it is as sure as I can muster with my blood pressure still high; I start out my door, the cold tile another reminder I am alive; I jumped at the shadow of a branch moving on the window, nearly dropping to my knees; I fought so hard in the land of nod, that I'm exhausted, soul tired, muscles screaming and nearly flaccid; I felt as if I climbed 9000 stairs.

Jesus, making my way down the 6 feet if the hall to the bathroom was glacial.  I don’t even bother to turn on the light I just lean heavily against the sink, run cold, cold water from the tap and splash my face.  The dark circles of unshed tears under my eyes encompass my face. I try to wash these memories away, but since they are scars on the very core of my soul they just taunt me as they loudly remind me, Fate lends her voice to the chorus, “I am there, an there is nothing that can protect you; it was me that fed you to those men, it was Life that never came to rescue, even your Terminus was no release. You are mine to bat around, to toy with, nothing will ever protect you; I wait stealthy still waiting for any break in your armour. I am right there beneath the water’s surface, tentacles waiting to wrap around your ankles to drag you under the surface again and starve you of your oxygen, taking solace, any happiness you may ever have.”

I close my eyes, splashing that cold water on my face, drenching my hair, my shirt; I let my soul scream, trying to cover the taunting, a long loud piercing scream, the kind that will echo through the universe reverberating off of every harmonic alcove without ever leaving my mouth. I open my eyes, I flinch, I almost run, but then I recognize that it was Life... hmm or Terminus, whatever, as if I needed him, now, there he is, himself, called by the keening need in my soul to not be alone, not right now, not this moment.  I sag against the sink grateful that the universe sent me what I needed.

He looks me over; a small ghost of a smile haunted his lips when he took in my oversized Rancid t-shirt and tall striped socks.  I practically felt his gaze caress the small bit of bare skin from mid-thigh to knee, the feeling comforting rather than leering.  I look at him behind me in the mirror, his face at first smiling, rumpled slightly in confusion as he surveyed my face in the mirror, the dark circles and lipid eyes not escaping his intense scrutiny.  His gaze kept traveling until they locked on mine. His piercing gaze delving deep in my soul, my memory, finding without too much bother because it was still skimming across the surface of my mind, what it was that was tormenting me so.  He saw what I saw, his face contorted as he knew what I felt, the full night terror, the suffocating, the paralysis; he saw my panic attack, the figure, the taunt, the absolute terror.

Then he saw what fed the night terror, my attack; I was not meaning to be that open with him; I knew it was Terminus. He saw my shame. He saw the head trauma, the multiple violations, the twisted arm, broken finger, my screams silenced by the seat of my car as they pressed my face harder and harder into the rough fabric.  It always amazed me that he could read my life like cliff notes just staring into my soul, but after all he was Terminus.  I watched his face, shame engulfing me as he saw everything. He watched them rob me, rape me. His face reddened, his eyes sparked with an angry red fire in those beautiful green pools.  That classically granite jaw hardened into a perfect symmetric block.  His nostrils flared as his anger rose.  I had never seen him angry.  He was always sweet, cocky, taunting, and assured, but this, this was megaton level angry. He was barley containing it, the kind of anger that could level cities in seconds.  He saw them strangle me, my scarf wound tightly around my neck, then leave me for dead. He looked away, literally turning his head away. 

I looked down into the sink, splashing my face again. I felt his hand on my shoulder, he caressed my shoulder softly; he dried my face. Then his hand hooked behind my knees, arm around my shoulder. He lifted me easy, walking me back to my bed; laying me softly in place, wrapping the covers around me

I watched his every movement, avoiding his face, enjoying the attention; he moved soft, his body stiff, arms returning straight at his sides, his long wide knuckled fingers balled in fists, the fury reverberating from him was palpable. Finally I was brave enough to look into his beautiful face shaking as he slowly let a breath out between his tight lips, he sucked in a deep cleansing breath through his nose.  I hung my head, shaking his head as I closed my eyes, I must have sniffled.  I opened my eyes looking back at him; sure he will never come back again.  He gave me a side long glance, but what I saw stilled my breath.  His anger grew in intensity now instead of fire I saw rock hard, crystalized anger.  His eyes, instead of the warm sea glass as usual, were glittering vacant angry sapphires, dark and dangerous.  His brows a straight dark line across his forehead with one small crease midway between them.  His eyes wide, still searching mine, exactly for what I don’t exactly know, those beautiful crinkles I so adored erased.  His lips drawn taught not a hint of a smile near them. His glorious jawline solid, slightly cocked. I wanted to look away drop my eyes to my hands on the edge of the pillow, but I refused to flinch. 

I gathered my courage and looked straight into his eyes, his soul, I stopped breathing.  What I saw there wasn’t directed at me, he was righteously indignant for me.  I saw an arch angel staring back at me, and then he was gone. A kind of shameful grief filled me that I hadn’t ever known, I was sure that it was the last time I would see Life, himself.  Lord In heaven I would miss him. I crawled back to bed and passed a long dreamless night.

@writernotwaiting @keeper0fthestars @pedeka @iamhisgloriouspurpose @anastasiaoftheironwood @sweetfairy1 .

[goddessofthundathighs]

DISTRACTION

Just a little filth based off of this post because I feel like I’ve been neglecting my lovelies.

_____________________________________________

“Bro, what the fuck?” Erik yelled angrily into the headset. He’d just returned from a two-month long mission in Colombia and all he wanted to do was relax with a nice game of Battlefield 4. He checked the time on his kimoyo beads. He knew the Princess would be home soon so he removed the headset from one of his ears to listen out for her.

It had been four months since the couple had last had sex, given both of their busy schedules, and Hennessy was more than a little needy. When she came home from work, she noticed his boots and duffle bag laid next to the front door.

“The fuckum?” She paused looking around. “I know this nigga didn't...” she complained as she put away her things and made her way to the game room.

Her husband’s dark brown eyes squinted as he concentrated on the screen, his fingers tapping the controller vigorously. The voices of middle-aged men shouting in his ear made him grumble for what had seemed like the millionth time. Though she was grateful that he still kept in touch with his battles from his time in JSOC, she hated how they sometimes kept him away from her for trivial things. As he reached the end of a heated battle, he heard the light footsteps of his wife come to the door.

“Well hello to you too,” her tiny voice rang out over the loud explosions and gunshots on the TV. He could practically hear her folding her arms.

“Oh hey babe,” He called as he glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his gaze back to the TV. Who knew that one simple phrase could make her blood boil the way it did.

“How long have you been back?”

“Couple hours,” he responded, clearly still distracted by the video game.

“And you didn’t think to —,” her voice trailed off as her anger rose. Typically he made sure to stop by her office when he returned from a mission, but today was different. Today he chose to engage in an online video game battle instead of making an effort to spend time with her.

“Sorry babe,” he grunted as he restarted the game.

“Nah, you good,” she replied as she headed for the stairs. Bratty Hennessy was in full effect and by the time she was done, Battlefield 4 would be the last thing on Erik’s mind.

—————————

Fifteen minutes passed before she reappeared in the doorway of the game room.

“How long are you gonna be down here?”

“I don’t know Princess, why wassup?” He asked as he finished one of the game’s missions.

“Oh I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in two months, haven’t touched you in four. Get where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah, I get it baby. Gimme like 10 minutes and I’m all yours, I promise.”

“10 MINUTES?! NIGGA?!” she screamed exasperatedly.

“Okay, okay, 6 minutes,” he responded as he went back to angrily tapping the buttons on the controller.

“Fine,” she pouted as she walked over to the stereo system.

The sounds of Booty by Blac Youngsta filled the game room as the Princess distracted herself. Erik’s head began to nod to the beat as she bounced around the room.

Girl, I wanna see you twerk

I'll throw a lil' money if you twerk

I don't really think you can twerk

(Toot toot) twerk

If you broke, go to work

Make that big booty twerk

Make that big booty twerk

(Toot toot)

Can I touch that booty?

That booty, that big old booty?

Shake that booty, can I lay on the booty?

Mike Tyson on the booty

Copyright that booty (toot toot)

“Babe, C'mon now.. Move…”

He was so focused on the game that he hadn’t noticed his curvaceous wife’s attire. She’d traded her tan flounce jumpsuit for a navy two-piece lingerie set with a matching see through robe. As the song continued on and her best friend’s verse came on, the tiny princess decided to kick it up a notch.

Yeah, smack it up, flip it, rub it down, BBD

Yeah, I know you heard the news about that BBC

Yeah, greatest in that box, RIP Ali

Mmm, she say she love my kids, taste my legacy

Ooh, she go stupid, I'm no Cupid, I don't cuff her, I can't lose it

What she say I'm sleepin' on her, I just said she just caught me snoozin'...

As Trey continued to rap, Hennessy purposely placed her body in Erik’s line of vision and began throwing her ass like she had entered a twerk contest.

“Hennessy I said —,” his sentence was cut off as his eyes lifted to fully take in her presence. “Gahdamn,” he groaned as he reached out to move the fabric of the robe, giving him an unobstructed view. He stared like a predator watching prey as her plump ass gyrated in his face. The groans of his battles brought him back from the trance she’d successfully put him in. Pausing the game and throwing his controller to the side, he watched her hips move with ease to the beat. Before he knew it, her ass was on his lap, grinding and popping to the music as the bass thumped throughout the room. Groaning lowly, he moved the mic from his headset down to his mouth and spoke to the men who had been complaining in his ear the entire duration of the song.

“Aye niggas, I'll be back. I don't know when though.” The men's voices were cut off as he turned the PlayStation off and tossed the headset on the table. He bit his bottom lip as his calloused hands began kneading the tender flesh of her ass before giving it two harsh smacks. She moaned softly, but continued her ministrations, turning to face him now.

“You just couldn’t wait, huh? Needy ass,” he teased as he pulled her down to straddle his lap. His lips curved into his signature smirk, revealing the gold fronts that she loved.

“Nah, you wanted to play the game, remember? Keep that same energy fam,” she said as she slowly tried to slide out of his lap. His arms locked around her like a constrictor, effectively stopping her escape.

“Nah, the only game I’m tryna play is how many times Daddy can make Hennessy cum,” he growled, lifting from the couch.

————————

Hennessy’s legs shook as he feasted from her, his tongue darting back and forth with impeccable speed. Her hands moved from the sheets of the bed to his unruly dreads, tugging on them as he sucked on her clit.

As his tongue lapped over one of her more sensitive areas, she yanked his hair and moaned. As if her body wasn’t already seconds from overstimulation, a growl erupted from the beast between her thighs.

“F-fuck don’t growl at me…” She whimpered as she stared down at him. As his lips turned into a sly smirk, he chuckled softly.

“Mmm. Why not Princess?”

“Y-You know why,” she whined as his long tongue wrapped around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He growled again, causing her to gush into his mouth as the vibration traveled up her body.

“Daddy I’m cumming,” she whined as she rocked her hips against his face. He stared up from his place between her legs, dark eyes fixed on hers as he continued to lick slow patterns on the swollen bulb.

“Let it go Princess,” he growled as he attached his lips to her clit and sucked. Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, but his tongue never stopped it’s quest. He continued feasting until orgasm number two had her clawing at his back. He licked his lips as he watched her body shake, determined to have her sated and asleep by the time he finished.

He climbed up her body slowly, kissing and biting at her skin along the way. A firm tug to his dreads had him eye to eye with the curvaceous cutie, her brown eyes piercing his.

“As much as I like the slow, sensual treatment, I’m way too horny for you to be taking your sweet grandpa time. It’s been four months, I need you to break me.”

“Say less ma,” he replied thrusting forward until he was completely buried inside of her. Her legs locked around his waist as he began delivering the powerful strokes that always left her sore and hoarse the next day.

“That’s right,” she moaned. “Act like it’s been four months since you’ve had this pussy, nigga.” He chuckled softly, leaning down to press open-mouth kisses along her cheek and jawline.

“Fuck I missed your fine ass. I missed the way your lips feel against mine, I missed the way your face scrunches up when I hit that spot, and I especially missed the way that pretty pussy clings to my dick like a life vest.” Her inner walls fluttered at his words. She had always loved how nasty he could be during sex. He sat up on his knees and pushed her legs up so that her knees were almost beside her ears.

“Grab them ankles,” he ordered as he lined himself up with her dripping core. She barely had time to comply before his hips snapped forward with electrifying force. This was one of her favorite positions because each stroke had him tapping her g-spot with deadly precision.

“Daddy,” she moaned out, feeling the familiar tingle in her lower belly.

“Wassup?” he smirked, gold fronts gleaming in the purple light of the bedroom. “You close, Mama?” She wanted to answer, but her words were caught in her throat as he continued to fuck into her. He thrust forward a few more times before pulling himself out and smacking it on her clit.

“Answer me, Monaé!” he growled, shoving himself back into her. She bit her lip and nodded, still unable to verbally express her pleasure.

“Cum for me, Princess. I feel the way she gripping me. Show Daddy he can still make that kitten purr.” At his command her released washed over her, coating both of their lower halves with her essence.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he released himself into her. He lazily kissed her lips, swallowing each moan that came in the aftershock of her orgasm. He pulled out slowly and headed for the bathroom as sleep threatened to overtake the tiny vixen.

—————

Once he cleaned both of them off, Erik pulled the Henny close so that her head was tucked under his chin. He kissed her forehead as he slowly began running his fingers through her curly hair.

“Sorry about your game,” she said, yawning into his neck.

“You’re fine Princess. You’ve always been my favorite distraction.”

———————————————

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[babethepig]

cradle me

Summary:  It's been a long time since Dan has felt this bad; not even when he lost his voice a year ago he felt so shit. His head is pounding from all the sneezing and his eyes hurt from looking at the computer for so long. The video is edited now, so at least he doesn't feel completely useless, but his body aches at just the thought of bending down to put the dirty laundry in the machine.

or Dan is a little sick.

Word count: 3k

Rating: G

For @lilacskylester

Hello Alexis! You asked for a fluffy sickfic and hopefully, I met your expectations. I really like how this turned out and I hope you do too. Have a very happy Holiday!

Thank you so much to my beta for being very nice and encouraging and helping me a lot with my bad punctuation. Hugs to you, @quercussp

(read on ao3)

Sharp.

The pain is sharp when he swallows, his nose is stuffed and it makes a horrible noise when he inhales.

Great. Being sick is just what he needs today.

Dan turns around on the bed, eyes closed still, he pats the space beside him and finds it empty. Phil is already up. Dan lets out a groan, maybe if he goes back to sleep he’ll wake up with no sore throat and a Phil by his side.

There’s a muffled noise coming from outside, Phil must have the telly on. He has already started his day and Dan should do the same, some mucus and pain can’t stop him. He groans some more and gets out of bed groggily; his legs hurt and he desperately needs to blow his nose.

He goes to the bathroom, but there are no tissues. They usually keep a box on the counter, but there isn’t any on sight. Dan clenches his teeth and resigns himself to blow his nose with toilet paper.

This is already an amazing day.

---

Phil is cooking and looking happy, a Bake Off rerun is playing on the lounge, he has a spatula in one hand and he is even wearing one of Dan’s shirts. Can he not right now? Dan is too grumpy for his cuteness.

“Good morning, you,” Phil says with a big smile, he is clearly in a good mood.

“Morning,” Dan croaks out.

Phil frowns immediately. “You sound funny. Are you sick, baby?” His demeanor changes completely as he steps closer to Dan, he looks worried now. Phil lifts his hand to Dan’s forehead, lets it slide to his cheek and then his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Dan assures him, “just a stuffed nose, it’ll go away.”

He doesn’t look convinced at all. “Do you want some drugs? I’m sure we have something for…”

“I’m fine,” Dan cuts him off, “drugs can’t cure a cold.”

“I guess so, but if you take them you might feel a little better,” Phil argues back.

“They’ll make me sleepy, and you know I have things to do today.” Dan is supposed to edit a gaming video and clean around as Phil is out with Martyn checking merch stuff.

“I can stay and help you,” he offers. Dan doesn’t feel like having so much attention on himself right now, he can meet his responsibilities, it’s not like he is dying.

“No, you can’t cancel to your brother, again. And I’m fine, really,” he gives Phil a smile and hopes it’s convincing enough.

Phil still looks dubious as he nods and steps away from Dan. He sighs, defeated, and nods again, probably accepting that Dan is like this sometimes, an obstinate man.

“I got inspired and made some French Toast.”

Just like that, everything is okay again.

---

Not everything though. The pain on his throat only gets worse as the day passes. Phil is getting ready in the bedroom and Dan is trying to have some work done but his nose keeps running, the toilet paper is a little scratchy and now he is sneezing every five minutes. He still doesn’t want the drugs so he just puts up with it.

Phil gets into the room after a while, he is ready to leave. He looks at Dan contemplatively.

“Let me stay? Martyn will understand,” he tries again.

“Stop being such a dad. It’s just a cold,” Dan gives him a pointed look before turning back around.

“Your nose is very red. Why are you using toilet paper to blow it?”

Dan sighs. “There were no tissues on the bathroom.”

“I could have gone grab some at the store, you should have told me,” Phil reprimands him.

Dan turns completely on his chair so he is facing Phil when he speaks.

“You have more important things to do than watch me sneeze for hours.”

“Nothing’s more important than you,” Dan actually softens at Phil’s sincerity.

“I love you, but you worrying over me won’t help right now. I’ll call you if I feel too bad, what about that?”

“Fine,” Phil gives up, “but promise me you actually will.”

“I promise. Now let me finish my work, please.” Dan turns once again to the computer.

Phil walks to him and drops a kiss on top of Dan’s head before leaving, he feels a tiny bit better.

---

It's been a long time since Dan has felt this bad; not even when he lost his voice a year ago he felt so shit. His head is pounding from all the sneezing and his eyes hurt from looking at the computer for so long. The video is edited now, so at least he doesn't feel completely useless, but his body aches at just the thought of bending down to put the dirty laundry in the machine.

When Dan was younger, he used to spend a good chunk of the day by himself. Even when he was sick, his mum would let him have some pills and maybe even food if she had some time to spare, but she couldn't really exist around him, bending to every little need he had. So he learned to watch himself and just go on with his day, things like a cold weren't reason enough to stop him.

Phil thinks differently though, he likes to have someone looking after him and coddling him. Dan never minds to be that person, but it comes a little harder to accept the same treatment for himself.

Dan remembers how when he got sick in Manchester for the first time, he casually told Phil over the phone and he immediately demanded Dan’s presence in his apartment. Phil showered him in so much attention that it was almost overwhelming.

There are times when Dan feels more willing to let go of all his responsibilities and let Phil take care of him than others. This time, it seems like he needs to put a fight against his own body first.

That's why he stands up from his chair and goes to load the washing machine.

---

Phil is back quicker than Dan was expecting, he hears him opening the door and climbing up the stairs. Dan waits for Phil where he is lying on the couch, with his knees drawn to his chest because he is freezing, but also feels physically incapable of moving to get a blanket.

“Dan?” Suddenly, Phil is kneeling in front of Dan. When did he close his eyes?

Phil’s ever so gentle hand poses on his forehead for the second time today, it’s cold against his skin and Dan can’t decide if he wants to flinch away or ask Phil to hold it there a little longer.

“You’re burning, you know?” Phil sighs. Dan can’t tell if he is mad or just tired, “we made a deal before I left,” well, mad then.

“Don’t be cross,” Dan hears himself pleading.

“I’m not,” Phil says that, but Dan is a master of reading him, even when he feels this poorly, so he knows Phil is not very happy with him right now. “I should have stayed here with you,” Phil leans down and puts his lips against Dan’s forehead. “And you should have taken the stupid pills.” Phil’s lips tickle a little when he speaks, Dan can’t help it but smile.

He reaches up blindly and pats Phil’s head. “Sorry, babe.”

Phil pulls away from their weird embrace and looks at Dan directly in the eye. “You are gonna take them now, okay?”

“Will you forgive me if I do?” Dan pouts.

“I guess,” Phil says, sighing theatrically.

“If you don’t forgive me I’m never gonna get better.”

“Nice to know you are good enough to manipulate me,” Dan looks up at Phil and sticks his tongue out.

“You just want me to die so you can run away with Chris Hemsworth.”

“Oh no,” Phil deadpans, “you discovered our plan. I’m sorry Dan, this was good while it lasted but Chris Hemsworth will take his meds when I tell him to, so…” he shrugs and pats Dan’s head.

“You little shit,” Dan frowns halfheartedly, “Can you go get the damn pills and stop bugging me?”

Phil lets out a laugh and walks away. Seeing him makes Dan feel better. Now that his stubbornness is taking a toll on him he is ready to accept his boyfriend’s full attention.

“My head hurts,” he whines when Phil comes back.

“It’s probably for blowing your nose too much. Speaking of that, I bought you eucalyptus scented tissues at the drugstore.”

Dan puts a hand over his heart, “so you still love me after all?”

“Do I have any other option?”

“No, sorry. The options are love Dan or love Dan more.”

“Why are you so composed? You have a fever and a headache and a snotty nose.”

“I dunno,” Dan says, he feels like shit but not completely smashed. “I’m seeing a little blurry too.”

“It’s the freakin’ fever,” Phil sounds concerned again, “please take the ibuprofen, Dan.”

“Help me sit up?” Phil sets everything aside and reaches down to grip Dan’s shoulder.

Everything spins and he has to close his eyes for a second.

“Are you okay?” The couch sinks beside Dan and Phil’s hand is on his thigh immediately. “Yeah, I am,” Dan opens his eyes and smiles, he might look crazy because Phil gives him a weird look. “Pass me the pills?”

Phil retrieves them from the table and hands one to Dan wordlessly. He swallows the pill but not without difficulty. Phil rubs his back affectionately and waits for him to finish chugging down the water. Dan didn’t even realize he was this thirsty. A drivel of water traces a path down his chin, Phil cleans it with his hand.

“Don’t choke please.” Phil’s voice has gone small.

“If I do you would be a step closer to Chris.” Dan tries to lighten the mood.

“I’m worried, Dan. A fever is bad news, maybe we should go to the A&E?”

“I think I’m fine. Let the ibuprofen do its thing, also I should try to sleep for a while. I will be better when I wake up.”

Phil is still looking at him like he just lost his head. Dan just wants to sleep, hopefully, until tomorrow.

Dan stands up from the couch slowly, he could fucking faint if he does too fast and that would only make Phil more worried. His wobbly legs take him through the apartment, Phil following close. Dan feels drunk, he needs a blanket and a soft surface where to take a nap and maybe even some cuddles, Phil’s not going to deny him anything right now, or ever, really.

Dan pulls his pajama bottoms down on his way to bed and lays himself down gently. The sheets are cold and they give him a little of relief. Phil is standing in the middle of the room, looking at him carefully. Dan makes grabby hands at him.

“I feel like shit, can you lay with me for a while?”

Phil doesn’t move, he just crosses his arms, “you said you felt fine like three minutes ago.”

“No, I said I will feel fine tomorrow, now I feel like I was run over by a bus and I need kisses and cuddles and maybe a tissue.”

Phil sighs for the hundredth time on the hour and walks out of the bedroom. He comes back a moment later holding an unopened box of tissues and hands it to Dan.

“You can blow your own nose, I’m not in the mood for doing it for you.” He is frowning but there is a hint of amusement back on his voice so Dan feels free to continue the banter.

“That implies that there are days you would be willing to blow my nose for me,” he says as he opens the box, takes a tissue out and brings it to his nose. It is so soft compared to the toilet paper and the eucalyptus scent helps a little to open his nostrils.

“Yeah, the days I'm not mad.”

“You said you weren’t mad!” Dan looks at him as reproachfully as possible when he has a Kleenex attached to his face.

“Look, I just don’t want it to be the pneumonia incident all over again.”

“I don’t have pneumonia, please just come here and hug me,” he says as he throws the tissue on the bedside table.

Dan is starting to feel sleepy now that he is laying down on the bed, he is too tired for fighting and every time he talks it's like his skull is being punched. Phil is still not moving so he pouts on a last attempt to crush his resistance.

It works, Phil unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans. He throws a blanket over Dan before getting on the bed next to him. Phil’s snakes one arm around Dan’s waist, pulling him closer, Dan rests his head on his shoulder and closes his eyes.

“If the fever is not gone when you wake up, we are going to the hospital.”

“Fine, dad.”

---

Dan’s eyes open suddenly, he is completely disoriented and everything is dark. He gasps for air as his nose is stuffed to a suffocating extent. A wave of nausea washes over him and makes everything worse. He stands up as quickly as he can and goes to the bathroom.

Dan falls on his knees in front of the toilet. He coughs and gapes but nothing comes out of his mouth. His nose is running though and there is snot pouring downs his face, it’s disgusting. He spits and coughs and spits again. He doesn’t even hear Phil yanking the bathroom’s door open, his hand is on Dan’s back the second he is in. “Are you okay?” He asks, alarmed.

Dan tries to answer but it only sends him into another coughing fit, so he nods yes. He stays crouched over the toilet until his breathing normalizes, Phil’s hand never leaves his back.

“What the fuck happened?”

Dan’s voice is hoarse when he speaks, “almost choked on my own mucus while I was sleeping.”

“Fucking hell,” Phil’s voice is not harsh at all, he sounds worried and even a little scared. Dan knows where Phil mind has gone, him dying on his sleep or something along those lines, he is probably feeling guilty for leaving Dan alone.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it and help me stand up.”

Phil puts one hand under Dan’s arm and pulls him from the floor. They walk together to the sink, so Dan can wash his face. He feels like shit, but at least he doesn’t have a fever anymore.

“Can I lay on your lap for a while?”

Phil nods and they make their way to the bed, the only light in the room is coming from the bathroom’s open door, he sits with his back against the headboard. Dan lays on the bed next to Phil and then brings his head to Phil’s lap and his soft hands start caressing Dan’s hair.

After a couple of minutes, Phil breaks the silence, “what hurts?” he asks, his voice full of care and love.

“Throat, mainly.”

“What about this big head of yours?” Phil leans down and kisses Dan’s forehead.

“Only a little,” Dan looks up at Phil, there are shadows dancing on his face and a small smile adorning his lips.

“I missed you today,” any other day Dan would tease him for being cheesy, but today he just smiles. “Did you have anything for lunch?”

Dan shakes his head against Phil's leg, making him squirm a little when Dan’s hair brush his bare leg. “Wasn’t hungry.”

“You should have eaten something anyways. I saw you edited the whole video.”

“Right, I did that. How is it?”

“Good, you look hot.”

Dan burrows his head on Phil’s stomach, “shut up”, he mumbles. He lifts the sweater Phil is wearing and puts the fabric over his head, then he gives a little nibble to Phil’s tummy.

“I stress cooked you some chicken-less chicken soup,” Phil says casually.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just veggies.”

Dan pulls his head out of Phil’s clothes, “why would you punish me like that?” He gives Phil a hurt look for good measure.

“Don’t be an ungrateful boy and go eat your soup.”

“Ain’t you gonna spoon feed it to me on bed? What kind of boyfriend are you?” Dan questions him dramatically.

Phil laughs, his tongue pops up between his teeth, Dan’s brain short circuits. He hides under Phil’s sweater again “I love you,” he kisses warm skin, Phil’s hand rubs his back.

“What time is it?” Dan asks after a while.

“Like eight maybe.”

“Ugh, you let me sleep for too long.”

“You needed it, just as much as you need to eat right now.”

“Ugh,” Dan repeats, “just because you already cooked the damn soup.”

“You want me to bring a bowl here for you?” “Nah,” he rubs his nose against Phil’s belly, “let’s go eat to the lounge.”

---

Phil’s veggie soup is great, but Dan can’t fight his nature so he whines about it till he reaches the bottom of his bowl. Phil just laughs and shakes his head, Dan feels so much better just from being here next to Phil, letting him show Dan how much he cares. It’s lovely.

Dan's feet rest on Phil’s lap, a random movie plays on the TV, Dan feels so much better at this moment he wishes he could freeze time or at least take a picture. Dan would never stop being amazed at how much Phil knows what he needs, when Dan is being stubborn he gives him the space to realize that there is nothing wrong with letting his guard down and just accepting that Phil only wants to help him and to see him alright again. And after all, Dan is a hopeless romantic and he can’t help himself but feel crazily in love with the man that’s sitting beside him, the man that cares for him deeply, that rushes around the city to get home to him sooner, the man that cooks him dinner and rubs his feet and loves him just as intensely as Dan loves him.

Dan leans to Phil and kisses his cheek, Phil turns to look at him on the eye making that squishy face he does because he is cute and he is not afraid of showing it, and Dan knows that Phil understands just how grateful he is for having him at his side.