#but they say you need to go for a few fit test visit and they are in Japan and I on the east coast of canada

[froggybangbang]

Classic Oxford Shoes HANDMADE in Japan

My kind of porn

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[sweetmilkespresso]

Treat You Better | CS55-> ? Fic & SMAU

order: Ex!Carlos x ChronicIll!Fem!Reader x Mystery Driver

flavor: angst

ingredients: angst, chronic illness, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, and fluff

You can't help but look at your past relationship and compare it to the one you have now.

bariata's note: Hi, this is my first real fic in the f1 fandom. It's more of test to see if people would be interested in more like this. I hope you enjoy what I've brewed up for you.

Sometimes you can't help but think about what you used to have.

Back when you and Carlos first got together you felt ontop of the world. You were in love and it felt like nothing could stop the rush you felt everytime you touched. You knew in your heart you loved him. You knew in your heart that he loved you too. Well, until you got sick.

It had started with the migraines.

They happened every few weeks coming and going like a tidal wave.

Eventually the migraines got closer and closer together until you got them daily.

They made you nauseous and every light became a potential trigger for a flare up.

You went from following Carlos from race to race to laying alone in the dark of your Monnaco apartment, in far too much pain to do anything.

That's when your relationship began to crumble.

It started with little things.

Carlos would complain about your constant rainchecks and I-Owe-Yous.

Next was the eyeroles and frowns whenever you mentioned your pain.

Overtime your body started to decline. Fatigue and exhaustion plagued your every waking moment. The aches and pains more pronounced as each day passed.

It was hard to stand and walk on your own.

As your body started to deteriorate so did your relationship.

What was originally little quips and snide remarks turned into white hot arguments.

Soon he was referring to you as:

"Too much" and "Exhausting"

You shot back that he was acting childish.

Not everything revolved around him and his needs. Things like this don't suddenly disappear because others find it tiring.

Until one day he'd had enough.

He'd locked you out of the apartment and threw out your things.

The two of you were done.

----

Looking back at that time you had felt so alone.

After you had broken up you moved into a little studio apartment that barely seemed fit for a person let alone a person with needs like yours.

Everything was too cramped and there was little you could do accessibility wise. You were renting the place after all.

----

But then he walked into your life.

It had been gradual at first.

He'd message or call you asking for an update since you'd went quiet on all your socials.

Soon enough he was inviting you over or coming to your place to visit.

It was incredibly cramped with the two of you in your little studio but you made it work.

He was so considerate of what you were feeling.

Whenever you cancelled he would just smile and say "Okay, there's always next time."

He was brazen and open about what he felt.

How he sat you down and point-blank made his intentions of "courting" you very clear.

You remember your first kiss.

You remembered how he cupped your cheek and asked permission before gently pressing your lips together in a chaste kiss.

He'd asked you to move in with him only a few months into your new relationship.

You agreed wholeheartedly. Your lease on your old studio apartment had been coming up anyways.

He happily helped you move in.

He didn't let you lift a single finger. Every little thing was taken care of. He hired a crew to move your stuff from your old studio to his place.

He was certainly full of surprises.

----

"Hey, y/n. Can you come over here and tell me if this is sturdy enough?" He asked you from the tile floor of the bathroom as he screwed a hand rail into the walls.

"What do you think about this one?" He asked as he passed you an ipad with plans for renovating the place.

"We can get the counters lowered and widen the space here so you can wheel your chair through and reach."

He installed ramps for all the doors.

He attached a wheel chair rack to every car he owned.

Since the house was two stories he even hired a guy to build a chair lift so you could reach the second floor.

Once your hands started shaking he would kneel down and tie your shoes for you.

Every little action was full of adoration.

He made it so easy to love him.

----

You're brought back to the present by a loud snore from right next to you.

Looking to your left you are met with the sleeping face of the love of your life.

You thumb over the pictures in your phone.

Smiling at the pictures you press post.

y/ninstagram

y/ninstagram In a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

[justabigassnerd]

Unexpected Visitor and Revelations

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradford!reader

Word count - 4,843

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, Jake almost punches Tim, Tim's a bit of an ass at first (and potentially OOC), alcohol, brief mentions of military

Summary - one evening at the Hard Deck, your brother decides to visit, meaning you and Jake have to confess your relationship status

A/N - hey y'all. sorry it's been so long since I last uploaded a fic, my motivation took a divebomb so finishing this took longer than expected. it's been a hot while since I wrote for Jake but I had fun with this! as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

Much like your older brother, Tim Bradford, you had grown up in a rough household. You had wanted out the first chance you had, so when Tim joined the Army after moving out, you had wanted to do a similar thing a couple of years later when you finally turned eighteen. Only you found yourself more drawn towards the Navy, and instead of wanting to throw yourself on the front line the same way your brother did, you decided to go to college, get a medical education and become a nurse within the Navy and funnily enough, it led you to meet your boyfriend Jake Seresin.

After a few years of moving around from base to base, even helping on certain deployments, You found yourself getting a permanent position in Top Gun’s medical centre, and one day a rather handsome aviator had been brought in after an ejection during his training session. You had heard him outside your office insisting he was fine and didn’t need any sort of evaluation but the second he walked in and locked eyes with you, he never wanted to leave the room. He started coming to your office complaining of various minor things like headaches and stomach pain so that he could have a ten-minute conversation with you. You had somehow unknowingly made Jake uncharacteristically nervous, and it took him a few unneeded visits to your office to get the courage to ask you out for drinks.

And from there your relationship blossomed.

Two years later and you still hadn’t yet told your brother of your relationship with Jake. You truthfully didn’t communicate enough to warrant telling him such information. You knew he was busy with his career in the LAPD and you were always up to your eyeballs in various Navy personnel and their ailments. But part of you wished that he’d respond to your texts and calls instead of only contacting you when he saw fit.

“Hey, Darlin’. I was thinking we could head to the Hard Deck for some drinks tonight.” Jake muses from where he is lounging on the couch, his eyes flicking up from his phone screen to look over at you as you enter the house, kicking your shoes off at the door.

“What did Bradley challenge you to this time?” You ask with a laugh, entering the living room as Jake gets up from the couch, meeting you halfway, sweeping you into his arms and pressing a delicate kiss upon your lips.

“Why do you always assume Bradshaw challenged me to something?” Jake asks lightly, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pulls you ever so slightly closer.

“Because you either go to the bar straight from work. Or you get home and start texting the Daggers and then one thing leads to another and you’re asking to go to the Hard Deck because someone, usually Bradley, has challenged you to something and you’re incapable of saying no.” You say with a smile, watching as Jake rolls his eyes jokingly.

“It was a pool match,” Jake reveals, smirking at you.

“Told you.” You say, raising an eyebrow as you pat Jake’s chest.

“So… are you coming?” Jake asks with a raised eyebrow, testing the waters.

“Of course, I’ll come. Can’t support my boyfriend from home can I?” You say, smiling at Jake before he leans in for another kiss.

“Perfect. Because I need my good luck charm.” Jake whispers against your lips softly both of you smiling as you pull away.

“I better get changed.” You say, pressing one last kiss to Jake’s lips before heading upstairs to shower and change into something. You pick out one of your favourite outfits, put it on and admire yourself in the mirror with a smile before you finish getting ready and heading downstairs to join Jake who smiled widely.

“Lookin’ gorgeous, Darlin’.” He says, already grabbing the keys to his truck and gesturing for you to come with him, letting you take his hand with a grin. Jake leads you out to his truck, opens the door for you, and lets you get comfortable in the passenger seat before closing the door after you. He then rounds the truck and gets behind the wheel to begin the drive to the Hard Deck. As soon as Jake pulls out of the driveway, one of his hands naturally comes to rest on your thigh, and both of you are unable to stop the smiles widening on your faces.

Pulling up at the Hard Deck always filled you with excitement. The nights were never repetitive and you loved watching the aviators and their friendly competitions as they’d attempt to win free drinks from each other, only stopping when the familiar sound of the bell rang out, signalling a free round from the person who ignored Penny’s rules. As you entered the familiar bar, you smiled at the familiar patrons, giving them friendly nods as you passed them by before you made your way over to where the rest of the Daggers were hanging out by the pool table.

“So, you didn’t run away then?” Bradley teases from where he was leaning against the pool table, pool cue in hand as you and Jake approach the group.

“In your dreams, Bradshaw.” Jake retorts, scoffing lightly as he takes the spare cue from Javy’s outstretched arm.

“I’m going to grab us some drinks. Do you want a beer? I’ll drive tonight if you want.” You offer, resting your hand on Jake’s shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze as he smiles at you.

“You sure you’re okay driving? I can go one night without drinking if you want a couple of drinks, Darlin’.” Jake then says, his eyes scanning yours for answers as you nod.

“I’m fine to drive tonight. I’ll have just as much fun without the alcohol.” You say reassuringly, shifting your hand to pat Jake’s chest before turning on your heels and heading over to the bar, greeting Penny with a smile and ordering a drink for yourself and Jake. Once you get both drinks, you make your way back over to Jake who is beginning to set up the pool table with Bradley, both of them exchanging friendly teasing as they prepare their game.

“Just on time. Are you ready to see me kick Bradshaw’s ass?” Jake boasts, taking the beer bottle from you as Bradley rolls his eyes behind Jake’s back.

“Two years of dating and you can’t make Hangman less of an asshole?” Bradley asks, glancing over at you as you shake your head with a shrug.

“It’s a work in progress.” You reply, a teasing tone to your voice as you briefly glance in Jake’s direction.

“You love it, don’t lie Darlin’,” Jake says with a wink, making you giggle lightly before you lift your drink to your lips to take a sip.

“Can we quit the yapping and start the game? I’ve got good money on this.” Mickey complains, gaining joking glares from the Daggers as Reuben reaches over to slap Mickey on the back of the head lightly.

“Did you really bet on this?” You ask in a hushed tone as you sidle up alongside Mickey, your eyes fixed on Jake as he takes his first shot.

“Yeah. Coyote came up with the idea and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some money out of him.” Mickey replies, glancing over at Javy who was studying Jake’s moves carefully.

“I take it you bet on Bradley winning then?” You muse lightly, taking another sip of your drink as Mickey nods sheepishly.

“Yeah… sorry,” Mickey admits, making you chuckle and shake your head.

“Don’t apologise. I won’t be the one having to pay up when Jake wins.” You joke, nudging Mickey lightly as he laughs.

“Wanna bet?” Mickey says, raising an eyebrow as you scoff lightly.

“I’m good. I don’t want you to lose too much of your money.” You tease before shooting Mickey a quick wink and crossing over to Jake.

“Hey, Darlin’, what were you and Fanboy talking about?” Jake asks, leaning back against the wall while Bradley readies himself.

“Oh, nothing much. Just finding out about the bets going on.” You reply nonchalantly, leaning into Jake’s side as he wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you close.

“Bets, huh? Are you not getting involved?” Jake asks, looking at you, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

“I already know you’re going to win. I’d feel too mean taking people’s money on top of that.” You say with a soft smile as Jake lets out a soft chuckle.

“You’re too good, Darlin’. I’d be taking advantage of my incredible skills to win all the bets I could.” Jake jokingly brags, kissing the top of your head as you laugh, lightly elbowing Jake in his side.

“Hey, Hangman. If you’re done flirting, it’s your turn.” Bradley calls over to Jake, watching your interaction with an amused grin.

“And he has the audacity to call me an asshole when he’s the one disturbing my time with my girlfriend,” Jake whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your ear as he squeezes your waist slightly, manoeuvring around you and stepping up to the table to take his next shot as you watch with a smile. You continue to watch the game with a smile, taking small sips of your drink as you watch the game progress. As time passes, you begin to feel flushed, the heat of the bar beginning to feel suffocating so you approach Jake once more, taking his hand softly to get his attention as he smiles at you softly.

“I’m going to step outside for some air.” You say, not missing how Jake’s expression quickly became concerned.

“Are you feelin’ okay?” Jake asks worriedly, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

“I’m fine. It’s just a little hot in here so I just need five or ten minutes outside.” You explain as a cheeky smile makes its way across Jake’s face.

“I knew I was good-looking, Darlin’ but I wasn’t aware I was making the whole bar hotter.” Jake teases, making you roll your eyes as you laugh.

“You’re insufferable.” You joke, making Jake’s grin widen.

“Yet you love me,” Jake says smugly.

“That I do.” You admit quietly, giving Jake a soft kiss before taking a step back and heading out onto the porch of the Hard Deck, the cool air hitting you like a ton of bricks as you sigh in relief. You quietly watch the waves crashing against the sand, taking in the beautiful views of Miramar. After ten minutes of enjoying the cool evening air, you hear the door swing open behind you before a pair of arms wraps around your middle.

“Guess who won, Darlin’?” Jake asks, a large smile on his face as he presses repeated kisses to your cheek.

“Was it Bradley?” You say teasingly, turning in Jake’s arms and smiling at him as he raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“Where did all that faith in me winning go, huh?” Jake replies, his teasing tone matching yours as he pulls you a little closer.

“You know it never went anywhere.” You reply quietly, winding your arms around Jake’s neck as his smile widens, leaning to meet you halfway as your lips connect. One of your hands finds its way into Jake’s hair, running through the short hairs on the nape of his neck as he pulls you impossibly closer, squeezing your waist slightly as he deepens the kiss.

“y/n?!” At the sound of a shocked voice saying your name, you pull away from Jake, looking over in the direction of the voice, and quickly notice your older brother staring at you with a look of absolute shock.

“Tim, what are you doing here?” You ask, moving away from Jake slightly as you turn to face your brother.

“I wanted to come and visit. I thought I could surprise you when I saw you were here and I find this happening?” Tim says, eyes wide as he gestures between you and Jake who subconsciously tightens the arm he wrapped around your waist.

“This is your brother?” Jake whispers, putting two and two together.

“Jake this is my brother, Tim. Tim, this is Jake, my boyfriend.” You say, deciding now was the best time to introduce them.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jake says, a friendly smile on his face as he holds his free hand out towards Tim who glares at the outstretched hand before focusing on you.

“How long have you been together?” Tim asks, an almost accusing tone to his voice as his gaze flicks between you and Jake, watching Jake’s hand slowly drop, returning to his side.

“Two years.” You state proudly, leaning closer to Jake’s side.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Tim questions accusingly, his glare hardening by the second. You were aware of the side eyes you were on the receiving end of from the other patrons of the bar that were out on the porch but with Tim’s accusing tone you couldn’t help but stoop to his level and continue to argue.

“I’m a big girl now Tim. I don’t need to tell you everything. We barely talk enough as it is. I don’t expect you to tell me when you get into a relationship-”

“If you were newly dating him I’d understand why you weren’t ready to tell me, but two years? I thought you’d at least have the decency to tell me by now.” Tim interjects, his anger rising.

“Would you have even cared to pick up the phone if she rang? I may not know the ins and outs of your relationship but every time y/n calls I’m the one watching when her face falls when she gets no response.” Jake says angrily, dropping his hand from your waist so he can take a protective step forward, manoeuvring himself in front of you slightly to shield you from Tim’s lethal glare.

“Did I ask for your input? This is between me and my sister.” Tim says lowly, stepping closer to Jake who clenches his jaw, his hands balling up into fists but holding himself back.

“When you’re being an asshole about something that has quite frankly been none of your business, I’m going to have an input.” Jake snaps, feeling the urge to punch Tim grow stronger and stronger until he feels your hand gently grab his wrist, stepping alongside him.

“Hey, Jake. Why don’t you step inside and hang out with the others and cool off? I think Tim and I are overdue a conversation.” You say softly, your hand drifting from his wrist to his hand, gently prying his closed fist open and interlocking your fingers.

“Are you sure?” Jake asks, his voice quickly becoming soft and gentle as he faces you.

“I’m sure.” You confirm with a nod. At your confirmation, Jake nods softly, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips.

“Get me if you need anything.” Jake then whispers softly, shifting his gaze to give Tim one final warning glare before making his way back into the bar.

“Let’s sit over here.” You say quietly, leading Tim down to one of the benches sat just by the sand. Both of you settle onto the bench, watching the ocean quietly for a moment before you let out a small sigh.

“So why are you here? How did you even find me?” You ask, struggling to believe that Tim came just purely for the reason of it being a surprise visit. That just wasn’t in Tim’s character.

“I still have you on that phone tracking app. I check on it sometimes… I also wasn’t lying about it being a surprise visit. But… someone did push me to visit. She said something about not distancing myself from you. You’re the only family I have left and I was wrong to barely communicate with you.” Tim says, glancing at you, a soft expression not many get to see on his face.

“I’ve missed you. It used to just be us against the world but that stopped so quickly I don’t think I was ready for the change.” You whisper softly, a ghost of a smile on your face as you look at your brother. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been handling communication with you over the last few years.” Tim apologises, already prepping himself for you to reject his apology.

“It’s okay. I can imagine life in the LAPD keeps you on your toes.” You say softly, reaching out and resting your hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“It’s not an excuse. What if you had needed me? Did you need me at all?” Tim asks, concern all over his face as you nod lightly.

“Things get a little lonely while Jake’s on deployments. But I can handle it.” You assure softly, frowning lightly when Tim shakes his head.

“I should’ve been there for you,” Tim says apologetically as you take your hand off his shoulder, resting it in your lap as your frown becomes a soft, reassuring smile.

“Well, you can start now, right? We can make more of an effort to meet up and talk.” You offer gently, watching as Tim nods, a small smile of his own making its way onto his face.

“We can. So… how did you and Jake meet?” Tim asks, smoothly changing the subject as you roll your eyes jokingly.

“If you must know, he came into my office after an ejection for a check-up. I heard him from a mile away complaining about how he didn’t need to be there in the first place but he changed his tune as soon as he came into my office.” You explain, chuckling fondly as you relive the memory of meeting Jake for the first time.

“And he’s treating you well?” Tim then enquires, wanting to make sure you were happy with Jake.

“I’ve never been happier with anyone than I have been with Jake.” You admit with a smile, watching as Tim nods, clearly happy that you were happy.

“Have you got anyone?” You then ask curiously, not missing the way your brother’s eyes widened slightly and a slight blush crossed his cheeks before he nodded slightly.

“I do yeah… her name is Lucy. She’s actually the one who talked me into coming to visit. You’d probably love her.” Tim admits, a small smile gracing his face as he talks about Lucy.

“I might have to come to LA so I can meet her. It’s only fair since you’ve met Jake.” You say, your smile widening as Tim lets out a breathy laugh.

“Hey, I feel like I owe Jake an apology. I was pretty rude to him and I’d like to meet him properly.” Tim then says, becoming more serious as you nod and get to your feet.

“Come on. We’ll head in and you can properly get acquainted with Jake.” You say as Tim stands up alongside you, following you into the Hard Deck, and you expertly manoeuvre your way through the various patrons until you find Jake with the other Daggers by the pool table. Upon noticing you approaching, Jake lights up, swiftly crossing to you and bringing you into his arms, noticing Tim over your shoulder and fighting back a frown.

“Is everything okay with you guys?” Jake asks quietly, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“Everything’s good. We’ve talked it out and Tim wants to get to know you so make an effort please?” You ask, your hands moving to rest on both of Jake’s shoulders as his hands drift to your waist.

“I was willing to make an effort at first but then he was a dick to you,” Jake says with a slight frown, his gaze flicking to glance at Tim who was awkwardly mingling away from the group before focusing on you.

“Tim knows he owes you an apology. Just meet him halfway.” You request softly, watching as Jake sighs lightly before nodding.

“For you, I’ll try. But if he’s an ass to you again we’re heading home.” Jake says before you give him a soft reassuring kiss, hoping both Tim and Jake are able to form some sort of friendship. After pulling away from the kiss, Jake heads over to Tim, as you follow behind.

“y/n said you wanted to talk?” Jake says, folding his arms across his chest as Tim nods.

“I wanted to apologise for the way I acted earlier. It wasn’t right of me to be so rude to you for no reason.” Tim apologises, studying Jake’s expression, briefly glancing at you as Jake remains stonefaced.

“It wasn’t just me you were a dick to.” Jake states simply, making you speak up.

“He’s already apologised to me, Jake.” You say quickly, defending your brother from Jake’s potential anger.

“You’re right. I was rude to y/n too and that wasn’t okay either. We’ve talked it out and we’ve agreed that we’ll make an effort to communicate and meet up more.” Tim explains, his gaze flicking between you and Jake who nods slightly.

“I better not find out you stop talking to her after this,” Jake says, watching carefully as Tim shakes his head.

“I won’t let myself. I don’t want to lose my sister.” Tim says, looking over at you and smiling softly which you mirror, the action finally getting Jake to soften.

“Okay. Fine. Let me buy you a drink and we can talk properly. Darlin’, are you good to stay with the others while we talk?” Jake says, at first directed to Tim before he turns to face you, watching you carefully as you nod.

“I’ll be fine. You go and talk with Tim.” You assure Jake softly, waving him off and watching as Jake leads Tim over to the bar, both of them sitting on a stool as Jake orders drinks before you turn to join the Daggers.

“Here you boys go,” Penny says, placing the two beers down on the bar counter, watching as they each take a beer with a nod after they pay for their drinks before focusing on other customers.

“So, y/n said she met you after you went through an ejection. That makes you an aviator, then?” Tim asks, after taking a sip of his beer, watching as Jake nods.

“Yeah, I am. That group over there with y/n is my squadron. We’ve been a permanent squadron just longer than I’ve known y/n.” Jake replies, glancing over at you laughing with the Daggers.

“I used to be in the Army. I served on a couple of tours myself.” Tim says as Jake turns around to face him, smiling.

“At least you had the sense to get out of there. I’m glad y/n was smart enough to join us in the Navy.” Jake says teasingly, chuckling as Tim quirks an eyebrow.

“If that helps you sleep at night,” Tim says with a laugh, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a sip.

“I mean I sleep very well at night. Especially considering-”

“You know what, you can end that sentence there.” Tim quickly says, holding his free hand up, grimacing at the thought of what Jake was going to say.

“Alright, alright,” Jake says with a laugh, holding his hands up in surrender as Tim rolls his eyes.

“You know. y/n told me how happy you make her. I’m glad she has someone like you.” Tim admits quietly, but somehow Jake hears him, instantly softening, his eyes flicking across to you as the corners of his lips tug up in a small smile.

“I don’t deserve her. She makes me so unbelievably happy. So I’ve made it my mission to make her as happy as she makes me.”  Jake replies, his voice quiet as he turns back to face Tim who nods in some semblance of approval.

“I can tell you both love each other. But if she ends up telling me you did something to break her heart I won’t be afraid to hurt you.” Tim says, suddenly becoming serious as Jake nods.

“Well, the same can be said for you. If I find out you’ve cut communication with her again or are just being an all-around shit brother, it won’t just be me tracking you down. It’ll be those guys too. They love her just as much as I do.” Jake says pointing over at the Daggers who were all far too busy chatting with you and playing darts and pool to notice Jake pointing them all out as a warning to Tim.

“You’re very protective over her. I appreciate that. And I won’t fuck up. I won’t let myself lose my sister.” Tim says, nodding when Jake glances back over at him.

“Of course I’m protective. y/n is the love of my life. But I also know she can hold her own if she needs to. I know what you mean though. I’m an older brother as well, it would be hard for me to handle seeing my sister with a partner because well… she’s my little sister I want to make sure she’s safe from any heartbreak.” Jake admits, thinking of his younger sister and how he’d react if he went to visit her one day and found out she was dating someone.

“You’re a good guy, Jake,” Tim says, offering a hand out towards Jake who smiles before grasping his hand, shaking it firmly.

“You’re not bad yourself Tim. I think we’ll get along.” Jake says, releasing Tim’s hand and moving to hold his beer bottle up in an act of cheers. Tim gently taps his bottle against Jake’s before the two men exchange a nod, solidifying a friendship.

“How has it been going over here?” You ask, getting the attention of both Tim and Jake as you stand alongside Jake.

“I think we’re going to get on well, Darlin’,” Jake says with a reassuring smile, his free hand grabbing yours and squeezing softly, pulling you a little closer.

“Good, I’m glad. I didn’t want to have to break up a bar fight or something.” You laugh as both men’s jaws drop in mock shock, both of them insisting that they’d never do such a thing.

“You picked a good guy, y/n,” Tim says with a soft smile, nodding in approval as you smile gratefully in return.

“Thank you, Tim. I’m so glad you came to visit. Even if it was a surprise and we argued at first.” You admit with a soft laugh as both Jake and Tim nod with laughs of their own.

“I’m glad I came too. Look, as much as I’d love to stay longer, I might need to head home. I’ve got an early start tomorrow and I don’t want to get caught in traffic.” Tim says, noticing how you frown slightly before you nod, understanding why he needs to go.

“Okay. Text me when you’re home. I’ll have to find time to come and visit you in LA.” You say as Tim stands up, moving to hug him tightly.

“I’d love to have you come visit me in LA. I’ll keep in touch.” Tim says, squeezing you softly before releasing you. When you step back, Jake shakes Tim’s hand.

“I’ll see you around, Tim,” Jake says with a smile.

“Definitely,” Tim replies, releasing Jake’s hand, both of them nodding at each other before stepping back, letting you lead Tim to the door to say one last goodbye, watching as he gets into his truck and drives off to head back to LA. After Tim has driven off, you make your way back into the bar and over to Jake who sweeps you up into his arms, holding you close.

“Thank you for everything tonight.” You whisper only audible to Jake who moves to kiss your temple softly.

“You don’t need to thank me. I did nothing. I’m just glad you and Tim have been able to make amends.” Jake says with a soft chuckle, hugging you a little closer.

“You supported me and tried to get to know my brother even if you almost punched his lights out earlier.” You say, pulling back enough so you could look Jake in the eye, your hands gliding up to his shoulders and winding around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“For you, I’d do anything,” Jake replies softly, leaning in closer as you mirror his actions, leaning in until your lips connect, kissing softly, not caring about the things going on around you.

“We definitely need to plan a trip to LA. Tim told me he has a girlfriend and I need to meet her.” You mumble as you pull away, hearing Jake hum lightly in response before the reality of what you said sinks in and his eyes widen.

“Wait. Tim has a girlfriend?”

Top Gun tags (comment or ask to be added):

@malindacath @kmc1989

[iid-smile]

his printer , shinazugawa sanemi

x fem!teacher!reader ! modern au, maths teacher sanemi, he's got a big fat crush on you! not proofread

author's note: idk what to put here.. i just couldnt stop thinking about teacher sanemi ahuhuhu 🌝

most people were very aware of mr shinazugawa's bias towards you.

no, more like a crush of sorts. you're a teacher, a fellow colleague of his, and your classroom just so happened to be next to where his maths lessons are held. coincidentally, your room is the only classroom in the school that doesn't have a printer, so you often make trips to his, because his is the closest.

teaching-wise, you're a lot more gentle on your students, so little to no noise was heard except for the shouting coming through the thin shared wall. somehow, mr shinazugawa always manages to get troublemakers to teach, undoubtedly growing more and more irritated and stressed with each day that passes. you don't blame him, obviously, since the only way to get them to behave seemed to be yelling at them.

really, the only time they saw a little bit of light was when an angel liked you walked in, just emitting that addicting aura everywhere you go, a soothing effect of sorts.

his lesson had just come to an end, the kids quickly packing up their things and running out, as per usual. he let out a frustrated sigh in a failed attempt to calm down, running a hand through his messy white hair from all the times he pulled and tugged at it in a silent fit of rage.

just another rowdy and loud set of students coming within the next few minutes. was he ready? not at all. he needs a break, and a long one, yet the school year just started.

suddenly, a very familiar figure moves into the doorway of his classroom, catching his eye. that relaxed, tender gaze that met his fiery ones. he pauses, quickly straightening himself out. he tries to school his facial expression to look more neutral, hoping that would be enough. the last thing he wanted to do was be rude to you.

"need something?" he asks you, his voice coming out a lot more harsh than he intended. in reality, the sight of you had made him a little flustered. a little too flustered. quickly, he glances away from you and crosses his arms over his chest in an effort to look nonchalant.

"just wanted to pop in here before your next class starts..." you slowly approach him, but make sure to keep a professional distance. "are you planning on having a test today, by any chance?"

he slightly raises an eyebrow at you, a little surprised. though the two of you were in different departments, he was used to questions about assignments and whatnot, but not about possible upcoming tests. "yes," he says, "i am. why're you asking?"

for a beat, your expression drops to worry, but you smile once again. "just a bit wary of coming in while the kids are trying to focus. i have some things to print later on, so..."

he lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgment at your reasoning. in all honesty, he never really minded it when you visited to use the printer, even if the kids got a little distracted or chatty. he didn't blame them at all, you were an easy topic to talk about when you were and weren't around.

"you don't really need to ask," he says bluntly. "the kids'll get distracted either way." he uncrosses his arms and lets them fall to his sides, taking a small step toward you. "you're free to come in when you want. printer's always here, don't gotta ask me so much."

you appear to be taken aback. "are you sure?"

he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "yeah. 'course i'm sure." he says, gesturing a hand toward the printer. "nobody needs you going around the entire school to just print something. that takes up extra time you could use to be with the rest of your class."

he doesn't want to admit it out loud, but he also likes having you in close proximity. it provides a nice distraction on not-so-good days like these; which was every day. "saves your feet some rest too. besides, it's not like the kids are doing anything other than talking their asses off until class starts anyway." he says with a shrug. oh, was he talking too much? did he sound too casual?

you stare at him, and your permanent smile widens more, something he hasn't seen before. you actually looked happy— no, relieved. only now has he realised that the difference in your expressions could be so different. "thank you, shinaguzawa."

"it's no problem, miss." he offers the best smile he can himself, pretty crooked, but he's sure you can see it. with a little bow, you turn on your heel and exit the classroom, your hand grazing the doorframe for a moment. his eyes remain fixed to where you just were.

please come back and print some papers. soon too.

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 4

Masterlist || Part Three || Part Five

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

It’s only been a few days since Steven officially became your baby, and you’re already eager to see him again. You’ve texted a couple of times since, though not much. You’re still trying to get to know him, and while you’re excited to have him, Steven is still a stranger.

A stranger, despite whatever kinship you feel toward him, you know practically nothing about.

You’ve decided against a background check, trying to let yourself be more open and less afraid of letting people in. After all, normal people don’t do background checks on every person they meet, at least not to the level you can pay for. You want to trust Steven, so you do.

But still, after your shopping trip, you’d slipped in an oh-so-casual, “So, have you ever been arrested for anything?” before you and Steven parted ways.

“That’s not your way of saying you have, is it?” Steven asked with a laugh. “Because I know I’m not that exciting.”

You assured him that no, you’ve never been arrested for anything, and you gave him a lingering hug. Stranger he may be, you weren’t letting a chance at physical touch pass you by.

And now, after a few days of going without, you need the sort of pick-me-up that only your baby can provide. You texted him in the morning, telling him to wear one of the new outfits you bought for him.

At first, you thought about telling him to send you a picture—proof that he did as he was told and something nice for you to look at—but then decided a surprise visit would be even better.

Seeing Steven in the sleek, form-fitting clothes sent heat rushing to your cheeks when he tried them on at the store you took him to. You found him attractive before. Cute, really. But something about the darker clothing you picked out suited him, even though he kept tugging at the shirt, unused to the fit.

The clothes were more for any dates than for work. You’re familiar with the itch of ill-fitting clothing yourself. You just want to see Steven in them in person, knowing he’s wearing them because of you. You also want to see how well he obeys when you’re not around.

Walking into the museum on your extended lunch break, you head straight for the gift shop. Steven gave you his schedule for the next two weeks, so you know he should currently be manning the register.

You spot him immediately, the all-black outfit—a button-down shirt and slacks—making him stand out against the white walls of the museum. With a stray curl falling over his forehead, he is an absolute vision. You didn’t choose Steven for his looks, but it certainly is a nice bonus for him to be so handsome.

There’s no one else in the gift shop, so as you walk up to the counter where Steven is fiddling with some candy, you say, “Hi, baby.”

Steven’s eyes shoot up to meet yours, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, but you reach across the counter to brush your fingers against his cheek.

“Are you feeling alright? You look warm,” you tease.

“Just surprised to see you, is all,” he says with a light laugh.

You take your hand away and place your arms on the counter, leaning forward. “I just wanted to see how well you listen to me.”

Your eyes fall down his form, catching on his silver name tag. The metal flashes nicely against the dark background of his chest.

“Isn’t that the whole point? Why wouldn’t I listen to you?”

“Some babies like to be brats. With the right mommy or daddy, it works out. But I need to know you can listen before you start testing limits.” Steven’s eyes darken ever so slightly.

“And what’ll happen if I ever decide not to listen?” he asks lowly, leaning close to you.

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Then mommy will have to teach her baby a lesson.”

The door to the backroom suddenly opens, making Steven jump back and rob you of his reaction. He goes back to moving the candy around, pretending to look busy while you stay leaning on the counter.

“You realize you’ve got a customer, Stevie?” Donna says as she walks past, making your eye twitch. You wonder if she’s like this with everyone or just Steven.

“He’s already waiting on me,” you say, making sure your tone is low and disinterested, showing her that you don’t care about what she’s saying.

At Steven’s confused look, you continue, speaking much more sweetly to your baby. “He’s picking out candy for me.”

He immediately starts playing along. “Yes. Here you are, ma’am,” he says, putting down two random bags. One contains chocolate scarabs that you’re sure Steven’s told you tastes like wax and a bag of sour gummy mummies that apparently aren’t very sour and could be mistaken for rubber.

Steven rings you up, continuing the charade. After he hands you the receipt, you glance over your shoulder at Donna. Her back is turned, but that doesn’t mean she’s not listening. You’ll have to ask Steven how nosey she is.

Turning back around, you brush your hand against his where it lays on the counter.

“I have to go back to work,” you whisper. “But you’ll call me later.”

“I will,” Steven nods, and you’re pleased he understands it isn’t a question. You give him one last smile and leave the gift shop with your bag of souvenir candy in hand.

“Why do they even sell this stuff?” you ask, phone pressed to your ear with one hand while you eat another gummy mummy with the other. “They’re horrible.”

“I told you not to eat them,” Steven says on the other end of the line. He timed the call perfectly, your phone ringing as soon as you walked through your door. You’ve told him roughly the exact minute you get home every day just so he could do this. “Are you still eating them?”

“I’m trying to figure out why they’re crunchy.” Steven gags.

“Why don’t you make yourself real food instead of eating some extremely questionable sweets?”

You pause for a moment before tossing the bag aside. “Is my baby trying to tell me what to do?” You’re not mad, but you’re definitely not passing up an opportunity to tease him.

“N-no?” Steven answers, sounding unsure.

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“I—well, I just worry that you’re not going to have a proper dinner,” Steven says. A perfect way of saying yes without saying yes.

Amused, you say, “Aw, that’s sweet of you to worry. Thank you, baby.” You think you hear him sigh in relief. Done with your teasing, for now, you move on. “I haven’t asked: how was your day?”

“Not bad, actually,” he answers, sounding a little surprised about it. “Everyone was really nice today. Nicer than normal anyway.”

“Oh? Why do you think that is?” You get up from the couch, grabbing the offensive candy to throw away.

“Haven’t a clue,” Steven says, flabbergasted. “Some of the kids’ mums were smiling at me a lot, too.”

This makes you pause. “Steven, do you really not know?” you ask with a laugh and lean against the counter.

“Know what?”

“They thought you looked good. Guess I’m not the only one who sees how pretty my baby is,” you purr. You don’t mind other people admiring Steven; he’s certainly deserving of it.

“No,” he denies. “That couldn’t— People don’t— Not about me.”

“That outfit I had you wear probably had something to with it. It shows you off more than your other clothes.” He doesn’t say anything. “Steven?”

“Just feels strange. I’m…not used to it.”

You hum. “And do you like it? The attention?”

You’re about to remind him that he needs to answer you when you hear a quiet “Yes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting attention, Steven,” you assure him. “Why do you think I have sugar babies?”

He’s still quiet. You’ll have to do something about his confidence, convince him of the effect he can have on people. You drop the topic for now, though, knowing that it’s not something that can be forced.

“I want you to come over for dinner this weekend,” you say. 

“Oh?” Is all Steven says, having been lost in thought.

“Yes, so you need to tell me what kind of food you like so I can figure out what to make.”

“You don’t have to make anything for me,” Steven says quickly. “I can just—”

“Steven,” you cut him off. Standing in your kitchen with Steven only on a phone call instead of a video chat, all you have to glare at are your cupboards. “Why did I ask you to be my baby?”

“Because…” The question seems to stump him. You stay silent, letting him think. “Because you want to take care of me?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s just…some of the things I read…,” Steven stutters. “Aren’t I supposed to be doing things for you?”

“You do do things for me, Steven. I don’t want you to wait on me hand and foot. Everybody else already does that for me. I want your attention. Your affection. I want to spoil you and show you that you deserve everything. If you ever decide you genuinely want to do something like that, you can, but not because you feel like you have to. That’s not your job here, do you understand?”

After a moment, “Yes.”

“Good boy.” Steven lets out a cough that sounds like he’s trying to cover something up. A grin finds its way across your lips. “Oh? Do you like it when I call you a good boy?”

“Mhmm.”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Steven says so quickly, so quietly, you almost miss it.

Your first impression of him wasn’t wrong; Steven is so much fun.

You hate cooking. Well, it’s not so bad when the recipe is easy, and you’re not making very much. When it’s more complicated, you get annoyed at all the work you have to do, especially when you’re cooking alone.

By the time you sit down to eat, you’re fine, but that doesn’t stop your grumbling every time you do it. It’s gotten easier over the years of cooking just for yourself, but it doesn’t mean you’ve come to enjoy it.

Because of that, you nearly wish you had asked Steven to arrive early to help you. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. This is for him, and you don’t want him to worry about a thing. With how he reacted to you wanting to cook for him, you suspect he’s used to putting people before himself. Either feeling like he’s an inconvenience or because he genuinely would rather do things for others, you’re not sure.

By the time he arrives, you have everything done and left on the stove to keep warm.

When he walks in, he’s already wide-eyed. Your apartment is large and spacious, with tall windows to let the light in. The decorations are a combination of help from a professional interior designer and your own eclectic preferences. Admittedly, it all clashes, but you like it. It gives your home a lived-in feeling as opposed to the sterile stock image look you see other people’s apartments and houses have.

“Your apartment has an upstairs,” are the first words out of Steven’s mouth, his eyes locking on the staircase at the other end of the room.

“Yeah, but it’s just the master bedroom and a little bit of extra space.” The extra space is the walk-in closet, but he’ll find that out when you give him the tour.

You take Steven’s hand and lead him to the kitchen and your small table. “Come on. Let’s eat, and I’ll show you around after.”

And if you thought he was gaping at your home, he looks even more in awe when he sees what you prepared for him.

Nothing fancy, in your opinion, though it certainly looks it. Steven looks amazed—touched at the sight of everything you have set out on the counter and stove.

“You made all this for me?”

All this being ratatouille with polenta and some seasoned rice. There’s also a baguette you had your assistant buy for you in the morning since the bakery usually sells out long before the end of the day. A fairly easy meal once you got past all the vegetables that needed to be chopped. And you’re certainly not going to admit that after several Google searches, you only picked ratatouille because you recognized it from a movie.

“Of course I did it all for you,” you say. “Did you think I wouldn’t make something nice for you?”

“It’s not that…” Steven starts before pausing. Then, taking a breath, he looks into your eyes and squeezes your hand. “Thank you.”

You beam at him, happy that he likes what you’ve done for him, that he appreciates it. You tilt your face up and press a soft kiss to Steven’s cheek. “You’re welcome, baby,” you whisper, your lips brushing his skin.

When you pull away, you see Steven’s face is flushed. He stares down at you wide-eyed and shifts a little, looking like he’s about to lean toward you, but stops himself.

“You know,” you say slowly, “You can do that to me, too, if you’d like.”

You’ve noticed that you’re initiating contact between the two of you, and you wouldn’t mind at all if Steven reciprocated. Especially since, if you’re reading him right, he looks like he wants to.

“Yeah?” he says softly, pupils a little wider than before.

You nod and wait.

Then, ever so slowly, Steven leans down and presses a swift, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whisper when he pulls back. Steven smiles shyly at you. Tilting your head toward your kitchen table, you say, “Let’s eat.”

Steven adored the dinner you made for him and, by extension, adored you. His expression was soft, sweet, and unbelieving when he looked at you. Every time he looked away, he seemed surprised to find you still there when he looked back.

The same adoration was in your eyes. You love giving your babies new experiences and how grateful they were to you for it. For Steven, it’s that and more. He acts like no one has ever made him a meal before. Like no one has ever thought of him and what he might like.

Perhaps no one has.

And that makes this all more special for you, makes Steven all the more important. If that is true, if Steven really has been lacking such kindness, you’re glad you found him, glad that he agreed to be your baby. Whatever his past may have been like, you’re here now to show him that he can have and deserve such nice—and, at times, simple—things.

After dinner and dessert—a specialty vegan cake your assistant also bought as there was no way you could take on the already complicated science of baking and make it more difficult by making it vegan—Steven insisted on helping you clean up. You weren’t going to argue, not when you hate cleaning up more than cooking alone. And besides, just because you want to care for Steven doesn’t mean you want him to laze about and become someone who expects everything to be handed to him. You don’t like your babies suddenly losing their morals when money comes into the equation.

“There’s something I want to show you,” you say as you put the last dish in the dishwasher.

“Oh? Time for the grand tour?” Steven asks as he stands up straight, having put the leftovers in the fridge for you.

You nod and take Steven’s hand. He happily follows you as you pull him toward the living room, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He marvels at everything, from the size to the view to even the furniture. Part of you understands why he would be so astounded; your apartment is quite large compared to more affordable ones in the city, but it still feels small to you. Though that’s more likely because you’ve been in the sprawling homes of your associates where most of the rooms are for display rather than use.

You show him your office, the bathroom, and the spare room. You don’t consider any of it all that fascinating and are more interested in taking him upstairs, but you give him time to admire everything all the same.

As you both start towards your bedroom, you feel Steven slow, his hand pulling in yours as he hesitates but not enough to force either of you to let go.

“You said your bedroom was up here?” Steven asks, sounding nervous. You know immediately what he must be thinking.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you,” you assure him. “There is genuinely something I want to show you. I suppose I could have done it downstairs, but I think my closet is the best place.”

“Your closet?” Steven’s shoulders slump, the tension draining from them, but his nervousness is replaced by confusion. Even so, he takes a step up, willing to follow you.

“You’ll see,” is all you say.

You don’t linger in the bedroom, not even allowing Steven to marvel at your large bed or the ensuite bathroom. Instead, you take him straight to your walk-in closet, flicking on the light as soon as you walk through the doorway.

Steven stops in his tracks, and here you let him look around. Dropping his hand, you step forward, walking toward the middle of the room.

“I’m pretty sure your closet is as big as my entire flat,” he says, staring at your racks of clothes, the shelves holding shoes and handbags, and the slim locked drawers you use to hold just some of your jewelry.

“Do you want a bigger place?” You assume he will; all of your babies do.

“Oh, no, that’s alright. It’s not too bad, and then I’d worry about Gus. Wouldn’t want him getting upset at a sudden move,” Steven laughs and you let out a light one of your own. You make a mental note, though, to look for something for him. If his apartment really is as big as your closet, you want Steven to live somewhere more comfortable.

“What I want to show you is over here,” you say, gesturing to the semicircle of three mirrors placed in the wall in the middle of the room.

Steven’s brow furrows, but he steps forward anyway. You take him by the shoulders and turn him toward the mirrors. Then you make him step forward so he’s standing right in front of them with you plastered to his side.

“Tell me what you see.” Keeping your hands on his shoulders, you meet his eye through the mirror.

“...Me?” Steven answers after a moment, still confused.

“Describe yourself,” you gently order. “How do you look?”

“I look alright, I suppose,” Steven starts slowly. “My hair’s a bit of a mess, but when isn’t it?” He laughs lightly, brushing the curls away from his forehead only for them to fall back into place.

You hum but don’t say anything. Your hands slide down to his upper arms, and you press yourself close to him.

“I…probably look a mess most of the time, actually,” Steven quietly admits. “My clothes are a little odd. Even you think so, what with all those clothes you bought for me. I don’t think—”

“Do you think you’re attractive?” you interrupt. You’ve heard enough and don’t want Steven voicing more self-perceived flaws.

Steven looks away from his reflection. “I-I don’t look bad, but I wouldn’t say—”

“But you like it when people find you attractive.” Steven doesn’t say anything, but you don’t need him to; he already told you he did the other night.

“Is it because it makes you feel desired? Wanted?”

Steven tenses underneath your hands but still doesn’t speak.

You look away from the mirror to look at his face directly, even though you only see the side profile.

“Do you not feel wanted, Steven? Is that why you enjoy attention from strangers?” you ask, your voice soft, quiet.

“I’m just not…good with people,” Steven finally says. “It’s hard, and I haven’t got an—a lot of friends. Most people I meet end up thinking something about me is odd…”

“I’m like that too,” you tell him, turning back to the mirror to look at yourself, to look at who you’ve become, who you are. You didn’t get to where you are by forcing yourself to be what others wanted you to be. “But that doesn’t mean you’re worth less than other people or that nobody wants you. It just means that you have to find the right kind of people to connect with and who will understand you. Forget the rest of them.”

Turning back to Steven, you reach up with one hand, placing your fingers under his chin to tilt his face up. “Stop looking at yourself how other people see you. Do you see anything different?”

Steven looks up, glancing at all three mirrors. He seemingly does a double-take when looking into the one on his right but recovers after a moment. “Not really,” he says, but something in his voice is different, making you think you’re getting through to him.

“I’ll tell you what I see then. I see a man who’s a delightful mix of adorable and dangerously handsome, a powerful combination if he learns how to control it. I like his messy hair.” You run a hand through his hair, starting at the back of his head and raking your fingers along his scalp. Steven lets out a soft gasp and shivers under your touch as you drag your fingers back down the same way.

“And I like his odd clothes and how at home he looks in them. How he isn’t trying to be someone else with what he wears.” You trace the back of a finger down his cheek. “I like how soft his face gets when he smiles, the lines that show his old joys and his new.”

Steven flushes under all your words and ministrations.

“But I think the thing that most attracts me to Steven Grant is his mind.” That, at least, makes Steven react. He doesn’t look at you through the mirror like he did earlier but instead twists around to see you from your spot just behind him.

“I like the way he speaks so fast when he’s talking about something he loves, how he can ramble for hours about it,” you continue, meeting his confused yet hopeful gaze. “How he thinks he says the wrong thing, but he’s just saying the honest thing. I like the way he looks at and experiences the world because I view it the same way. I see all of that, and it makes me want him, and I don’t understand how other people don’t.”

You pause, looking over his face to make sure he’s still listening. Then, you continue, the words soft and earnest. “You’re something special, Steven.”

When you finish, Steven is silent, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours is his only moment.

Then he surges forward, his lips crashing into yours. His nose bumps against yours, and his teeth unintentionally catch your lip. It’s awkward and unpracticed, but it steals your breath all the same.

Just as your hands move to rest on his chest, as you try to tilt your head to kiss him properly, Steven pulls away.

“I’m sorry!” he apologizes, but you note that he makes no attempt to step away from you. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s too soon for me to be doing that, isn’t it?”

Despite his words, you only see the barest hint of regret on his face. Mainly, you see hope.

Giving him a soft smile, you say, “There’s no such thing as too soon in a relationship like this.”

Taking Steven’s face in your hand, you pull him back to you. He breathes a heavy sigh against your cheek as soon as your lips touch. His eyes slip closed as he falls into the sensation, letting you take the lead. Your hand stays on his cheek while the other rests on his chest, where you can feel his heart pounding. His hands tentatively rest on your waist before he tightens his hold.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, you keep the kiss light and slow. You want to devour him, but there will be plenty of time for that in the future. Yes, there’s no such thing as too soon, but you want to savor every first you have with Steven.

When you pull away, you swear you hear a slight groan come from the back of Steven’s throat as his lips chase yours.

You try to hide your smirk when you say, “Let’s go back downstairs.”

Steven seems a little disappointed but follows you nonetheless as you take his hand and lead him to your living room. There, you curl up together on the couch with Steven pressed to your side, leaning into you.

You don’t kiss again, though you desperately want to. You need to make sure, even though he initiated it and was very receptive when you kissed him, that Steven is comfortable with the pace of the relationship. You need to know that kissing you wasn’t something done out of overwhelming emotion that he wouldn’t repeat if he had been thinking clearly. 

You set the standard that nothing had to happen between the two of you after all.

The evening wears on and eventually slips into night, with you and Steven alternating between talking and watching some random show you put on. Not once does he try to leave your side.

It’s comfortable, relaxing. More importantly, it makes you happy. Happy to be here with Steven, happy that he’s yours.

You don’t ever want to let him go.

“Stay the night?” you offer him once it’s deemed too late for him to return to his place. “I have the guest room set up for you.”

Steven looks at you, an eyebrow raised. “Did you plan this?” he asks, a smile creeping across his lips.

You had, in fact, planned this. The guest bedroom has always been for your babies, but you were especially excited to set it up for Steven. You kept the decorations sparse and more like what can be found in the rest of the apartment. You don’t make the room too personal to you in case your baby wants to personalize it for themselves.

But despite eagerly anticipating his first night in your home, you didn’t want to order him to stay. You figured if he really wanted to leave, he would have said something sooner or even turned you down now. Much like with the kiss, you want Steven to make certain moves even though he’s the baby in this relationship. But spending the night in your apartment, in separate beds with no intention of having him crawl into yours, is something you’re willing to push on a little bit.

You shrug instead of answering Steven, though the truth is obvious. “You don’t start until eleven tomorrow, so you don’t have to rush to get home in the morning,” you say, trying to convince him.

Steven just shakes his head and smiles. “I would say I don’t have clothes or anything, but I suspect you’ve already taken care of that.”

“What kind of sugar mommy would I be if I hadn’t?” You stand and start toward the guest bedroom. “Come on and tell me how I did.”

Steven dutifully follows you before stepping past when you pause in the doorway. He goes to the closet first, having already glanced around the room during the tour. It’s not a walk-in like yours, but it’s still large with double doors. Steven grabs both handles and pulls the doors wide to dramatically reveal the contents.

He pauses at the sight of the wide assortment of clothes, and your heart beats nervously in your chest. You think he’ll like everything, but you need him to tell you. Steven reaches in and pulls out one of the many patterned shirts he’s favored every time you’ve seen him. There are also solid colors to give him variety, as well as dressier pieces that match what he took home with him, but you’re most proud of the patterns, having picked them all out yourself.

“Try it on. Make sure it fits,” you say, though you already know it will. You were there when his measurements were taken at the boutique.

Steven doesn’t put it on, though you see him check the size. He already knows how it’ll fit, too. You made sure to check his preferred size for his old clothes when he was trying on the things you selected while shopping, knowing it was different than the more form-fitting clothes you picked out.

“This is like my clothes,” he says softly, looking over at you as he pulls at the hem of the shirt he’s currently wearing, another slightly oversized, oddly patterned piece.

“I like your clothes,” you tell him honestly, repeating your earlier sentiments as you approach him. “I’ll still have you in the nicer stuff on occasion, but I like seeing you in this kind of stuff more. It suits you.” You run a hand down his chest, admiring how the shirt looks on him.

“Thank you,” Steven says, sounding breathless.

Despite wanting to wait for Steven to kiss you again, you reach for him anyway. You control yourself, though, and place a tame kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say softly, your lips so close to his.

“I feel like I’ve been dreaming ever since I met you,” Steven whispers, sounding as if he’s afraid he’ll wake up any moment.

“And you haven’t even experienced the half of it yet,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his middle. “So I take it I did a good job?”

Steven’s free hands come to rest on your back, his fingers lightly stroking back and forth as he flexes them. “I love it,” he says, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Smiling at him, you press a quick kiss to his cheek and step away. “I’ll let you get some sleep. You should have everything you need either in here or in the bathroom.”

“You’re leaving?” Steven asks, not wanting to let you go.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” You say it jokingly, but you would have no issue making sure Steven was snuggled up in bed and giving him a goodnight kiss.

Steven flushes and mumbles, “I-I don’t need…” before trailing off. Not quite a no, but not a yes either. You tuck that information in the back of your mind for later.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you tell him, stepping out of his grasp.

“Wait!” he calls as you reach the door. You pause, turning back to face him. “Can I…kiss you again?”

You try to hide your excitement. “Of course you can.” You don’t move from your spot in the doorway, wanting Steven to come to you.

He puts the shirt back in the closet and slowly steps close to you. He gazes down at you for a moment, and you notice how wide his pupils are, engulfing the brown almost entirely. When Steven’s lips touch yours for the third time tonight, your skin starts to buzz. You need to leave before you push your sweet boy too far.

Your skin is thoroughly heated when he pulls away, and you’re both left breathless despite the relative sweetness of the kiss.

“Goodnight, Steven,” you whisper, forcing yourself to take a step back.

“Goodnight,” he says back. 

You force yourself to turn and walk away, and you notice you don’t hear the sound of the bedroom door closing until you’re up the stairs and out of sight.

You don’t sleep in. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, not with Steven in the room below you, so close at hand. It’s early yet, but you want to make him breakfast before he has to leave. He has to feed Gus, so you doubt he’ll be able to stay long. You want to spend as much time with him as you can today.

Quickly making yourself presentable in case Steven is already awake, you rush down the stairs. You glance toward the bedroom before heading toward the kitchen but pause when you see the door has been left open.

The bathroom door is also open, showing he’s not in there. In fact, after a quick glance around your apartment, you don’t see Steven anywhere. The floor plan is relatively open, even with the wall separating the living and dining rooms. There are few places to hide.

Confused, you call out, “Steven?”

There’s no response, but you can’t say you expected one.

Walking into his bedroom, you see the pile of his clothes from yesterday on the floor near the foot of the bed. The sheets are pulled into place but mussed enough to tell you that someone other than your cleaning lady has touched them.

You run your hand along the spot where Steven presumably slept, but the sheets feel cool to the touch.

Steven is gone and has been for a while.

Series taglist: @multific @uncle-eggy @kezibear @local-mr-frog @peachyrue-777 (unable to tag)

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[ihrthoney]

stupid

pairings: touya todoroki x f!reader (no actual relationship atm, it’s more of a reunion thing but with romantic intentions)

warnings: fluff, touya backstory

word count: 2.8k (JESUS😭)

an: touya is alive and well tyvm! most likely will make a part 2 :p

It had been about two years and Touya was finally out of the hospital. When your body is near death, time flies by. The first few months were times he didn’t ever want to relive, the mental and physical pain he had to endure when healing his body was intense. After every session, he would knock out until he had to start the next test. 

As promised, he talked to his father every single day. The rest of his family would visit separately or by themself. Since their first visit, Natuso has never been in the same room as their father, Touya understands and respects his decision of course.

Society on the other hand… let’s just say he gets everything delivered to him to avoid the public as much as he can. Given it’s been two years, the rise of heroes has already begun (again) and the crime rate has never been lower; but for his sanity, he does not want to be recognized. 

His nerves always spike when he’s forced to go out but his mom and sister think exposure therapy is good. Speaking of therapy, he’s been seeing a therapist since he could properly talk again. Since he was a villain he has to do community service for ten years, technically eight in present times. Every day for eight hours he helps different companies and programs with whatever they need. As exhausting as it is, he knows it’s the least he can do for being a big factor in hero society collapsing. 

Currently, he’s with his siblings shopping for clothes and it feels like community service. He loves his sister, he really does, but they’ve been shopping for hours and his ass hurts from sitting so much as she tries on different outfits. Thankfully Natsuo had joined (was dragged) them or else he would’ve fallen asleep three stores ago. Fuyumi said Natsuo always agrees so they can leave the store quicker and that a second opinion is always nice! She said Shoto was too busy with school and training to stay plus he was too sheltered to know about things that weren't hero-related (they’re so grateful for his friends).

Fuyumi is in a fitting room trying on a few dresses for an event their mom is a part of. The boys already had their outfits ready (a suit and tie) so there was no need for them to shop, they were seated right in front of the door Fuyumi was in, other seats next to them were either empty or also filled with someone waiting.

The door opened and Touya instinctively looked up, just as he did when someone walked past him and it made his blood, ironically, run cold. Quickly, he hides his face behind Natsuo which confuses the latter, “What are you doing??”

Acting dumb, “What do you mean?”, his eyes continue to look at the seat. “I mean why are you hiding?”, awkwardly he tries to hug Natsuo, “Hiding? I’m just trying to give my brother affection of course!”

Pushing the older’s arms off of him, Touya sits back and watches as his brother’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “Nice try, do you think I’m stupid?” “Yes.” “Shut up!”

Before they could continue with their teasing, Fuyumi walks out with a few items in hand, gesturing they go to the register and pay.

On their way there she asks, “What were you two arguing about?” Touya was reminded of why he froze to his seat and all the memories started to flood in. 

-

“What are you doing?” A small voice appeared next to him, rustling sounds as someone sat next to him.

Annoyingly, he turned to see who cared enough to bother him during lunch. Touya was frowning, wanting to go home and train but his frown vanished when he saw you. Your hair was split into pigtails with turquoise rubber bands and an all-might lunch box in your hands. 

“It’s none of your business.” He quipped, upset at such a person distracting him. He frowns again at your response, “That’s not very nice. My mom said if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.” 

He always hated that saying because it was something he needed to learn, “That’s stupid.” His arms are crossed, now angry at the scolding. Instantly you replied with, “You’re stupid!” 

Touya whipped his head around at your insult and he stood up, “You’re stupider!” He yelled, which caused you to yell even louder, “You’re the stupidest!” 

The little fight between you two somehow sparked into a competition to prove who wasn’t stupid by stating your test scores, to demonstrating your quirks, then arguing about pro-heroes. From that day forward you guys were glued to each other’s side, eating lunch and spending breaks together. Touya had even invited you to his house, to his mom’s delightful surprise.

Everyday was spent together,

until he died. 

The loss of Touya destroyed you, school had become lonely and you distanced yourself from people in fear of losing someone else. The other kids only knew you as the girl whose friend died, which made them avoid you and your grief.

After graduating middle school, you never continued in your path to become a hero, unable to stomach death and violence. Instead, you went to a normal high school and a little college that gave you enough knowledge to have a name to yourself that you were satisfied with. 

Despite the loss, the Todoroki’s never forgot about you; Anytime they saw you in public you guys would quickly catch up, you’ve even seen their mom once a few times. Rei was an angel to be around, she had a very caring aura even after everything she’s been through.

Honestly, you were incredibly nervous when visiting her, you shouldered a ton of guilt for not being able to save Touya from his desire to be a hero. She cried at the confession, Fuyumi did too, you all shared a lengthy and heartfelt conversation about your grief. 

After that conversation, you and Fuyumi grew very close! Whenever she wasn’t busy with teaching her students you guys would meet up and go to festivals, chat over drinks or freak out together over your guys’ shared interests. 

Fuyumi became one of your best friends so it was no surprise when you recognized her at the store. 

-

“Hey Yumi!!” You beam at his sister, your eyes bright as you walk around the counter to hug his sister. While Touya isn’t tall enough to tower over you, he still has to slightly look down to meet your eyes.

He watched as you both chatted, something about Fuyumi needing a last minute dress for their mom’s event, to you… also going.. to the event.

“What are you going to wear?” His sister asked, showing her outfit in her hands and questioning which one to buy. “I have the blue version of this dress! You should get this one so we can match!” Excitedly, you pointed at a simple white dress Fuyumi had in her hands, which made her grab the other dresses and reach them towards Natsuo.

“Could you put these dresses back please!” Natuso whined, “How am I supposed to know where they go?” Touya tries to keep his eyes remained on his brother in fear you’ll recognize him. Not that it would be shocking given that he announced his existence on national television.

Your arms come into view as you grab the clothes from his sister's hands, “It’s okay, I can put it away!” Feeling embarrassed, Fuyumi tries to exclaim that it’s okay and she can put it away but you insisted that it was your job.

So you work in this clothing store.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re always too kind to me Yumi. Come over to this register, I can ring you up!” The former villain doesn’t know whether or not to feel relieved or hurt that you haven’t noticed his presence. Maybe you did and you’re ignoring him? Or maybe you just think he’s one of Natsuo’s friends? There’s a million questions that run through his mind, so much so that by the time he snaps back to reality, you’re handing Fuyumi her receipt.

As they exit the store, he musters up some courage to look at you and to his shock you’re already looking at him. Instead of looking away, you give him a small smile and he matches it, before turning his attention to the door in front of him. 

The walk to the car is quiet, the sound of the wind rustling the trees and feet scratching against rocks on the road. He gets into the backseat, claiming the passenger seat makes him carsick.

Fuyumi was quick to address the elephant in the room, not even giving him time to put his seatbelt on, “Why didn’t you say anything?” She turned around and looked back at him.

Natsuo started the car but didn’t move to reverse, “Wasn’t she your first and only friend in school?” Touya pouted at the fact that his brother stated, you were his first crush too. 

“I doubt she recognized me or maybe she didn’t want to.” Being vulnerable was still a hard thing for him, so his sentence was merely whispered but curse Fuyumi for having good ears, “Don’t say that! Of course she recognized you, she was just shy. Plus, you didn’t even look at her!”

The elder scoffs at having not been slick, “Say something to her next time, she’s been wanting to talk to you.” Touya is confused at what his sister mentioned, “What do you mean she wants to talk to me??” 

Fuyumi’s expression makes it seem like she was caught doing something bad, but she was never good at secrets, “Yn is aware of your existence, she reached out to me when you were first admitted to the hospital after the fight all those years ago. She was very worried but didn’t feel like it was her place even though we insisted she visited. I really think you should talk to her.”

“Yeah talk to her! Don’t be a wuss big bro!”

“Shut up!”

That night, Touya couldn’t get any sleep, he was too busy thinking about all the times he would search for you when he was Dabi. There were too many times when he wanted to just go up to you, to watch you smile at him even if under the guise of customer service, but he couldn’t do that to you. Dabi didn’t want you to look at what he had become, what he’s done. So like his past, he erased you from his mind and focused on his goal.

-

Until his eyes could do nothing but focus on you standing right in front of him. 

Tonight he and his family (minus their dad of course, he wasn’t allowed near Natsuo) were in the ballroom of some hotel that his mom’s club was hosting. After getting out of the ward, his mom joined a community club that takes care of plants, it keeps her busy and happy.

This event was to celebrate the success of the plant business’ success in growth, there were mini games for the children of the members, food and a live band. It was quite nice, not as loud as he prepared himself for it to be.

Although, right now he couldn’t hear anything over the raging beat of his heart. There you were, greeting his mother. As always you were so beautiful, he couldn’t believe you were so close. The dress you were wearing did match Fuyumi’s, who just now bumped his shoulder, “Talk to her you idiot.” 

“How can I? I died, killed people, almost died, and now I’m-” His sister interrupts with that kind voice of hers, she was always so reassuring, “Alive, with a second chance. Trust me, she misses you.” 

Before Touya got a chance to think of a reply, you made eye contact with him. His mother followed her gaze and beamed at the sight of him, waving him down.

Touya could never say no to his mom, not anymore. So, against his will he walked towards you two. His eyes never once left yours even if he wanted to look away, hating the way you stared at him, it made him feel too conscious of his skin. While he doesn’t have staples of purple skin, it's still apparent where his scars were. 

“We’ll leave you two alone.” And just like that his mom and sister disappeared. The air was awkward, he didn’t know what to say. How does someone even start a conversation after everything he’s done?

Every doubt, any negative thought he’s ever had dissipates when he hears your angelic voice, “I like your hair.”

He can’t remember the last time he’s heard your voice that wasn’t through his jagged memories of you. It’s softer and smoother than when you were kids yet it carries a lightness that makes him straighten his back and hold out his hand towards you, 

“Would you like to dance?”

Heat crawls up his neck at the feeling of your soft hands grabbing his own, he feels like that naive little kid all over again.

With your hand in his, you both make your way to the dancefloor where the band starts to slow down their tune, a soft melody intertwining in the air, “I will be honest, I don’t actually know how to dance.” Touya admits embarrassingly, he didn’t have the time and even when he did he rejected any activity that wasn’t training. 

Slightly, you squeeze his hand in reassurance, “It’s okay, neither do I.” The most he knows about slow dancing is from the movies his siblings forced him to watch, who would’ve thought those dumb romance movies would have helped him.

“Is it okay if I?” His eyes gesture to his hands hovering above your waist, Shyly, you nod and he places his hands on your waist, gently moving your body closer to his. You take the close space as a sign to move your hands onto his shoulders.

Slowly, your bodies sway to the music, lights dim, colors of blue and a soft white flash over the dance floor, covering the red hue on Touya’s face. It was odd, two people who were friends for a few years in middle school met again a decade later at an event none of them were a part of. 

As always, you’re the one to break the silence, “How are you?” Your eyes are no longer looking into his, instead looking at the stupid tie he was forced to wear, “As good as a convicted criminal can be.” 

Nothing is said for a little bit, Touya starts to worry that he joked too soon, “How are you doing? I’m sorry for not saying anything when you were working.. I didn’t really know how to.”

Now you look up at him, “That’s stupid.”

He laughs at the memory that rises at your words, “A girl once told me that her mom told her, if you-” “Don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all, yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes as he mimics your words from your first encounter, that same smile you gave him when he saw you working but bigger, brighter too. 

“I’ve missed you yn.” 

Even with the dim lights, he can see the tears well up in your eyes, “I’ve missed you too, more than you could possibly ever know. I was so angry at you, learning how you died. I grieved for so long and when I was finally okay, the news of your existence flashed on my tv and I was angry all over again.” He hasn’t even realized that he was crying until your hands moved to wipe his tears, actual tears instead of thick lines of blood.

“I wanted to yell at you, to kick your ass, but seeing you in the hospital… I just wanted to talk to you again. I’m sorry I never visited.” Touya quickly assures you that there was no need for you to ever apologize and that it was him who needed to beg for your forgiveness for putting you through such pain.

“You’re free to do it all, I’m so sorry.” The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, years of guilt still streaming through him. 

“After all this time and you’re still a crybaby.” At the comment he turns his head away, a soft mutter denying such assumptions.

“‘m not a crybaby.” Your hand moves to turn his face towards yours, “That’s right, you’re a big crybaby.” He wants to be annoyed at the testing, but it’s you. Just like his family, his heart is weak for you. 

Years and years spent apart, the young flame his heart lit for you starts to warm again. The version of himself that met you still lives, still craving your presence. 

It’s too early to dive into those emotions, for now he’ll soak up the warmth your laugh radiates. He’s got all the time in the world.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.” 

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

[hayakawalove]

Test of Love (Chapter Six)

Chapter Six

All Chapters

Summary: You hang out with a friend you haven't seen in awhile. Later, you pay a visit to the boys.

A/N: How many times can we cuck Gojo. Comments always appreciated!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Reader to Man), Dirty Talk, Creampie, Humiliation, Alcohol, AFAB Reader, Female Reader W/C: 8,018

Credit to Benkeibear for the banner

You rest in your seat, your eyes staring into the ceiling. The classroom was empty, your last student having just gone home. You were so sore. Earlier in the day, you jumped in on a mission as it seemed your student needed help. Using your curse technique for a long time drained you. The muscles in your body felt like cement as your head pounded. On the best of days, your technique was almost limitless, but on the worst of days, you could only use it for ten minutes before feeling faint. You were able to use Plasma manipulation, a subset of blood manipulation. You weren't a part of the Kamo family, which made your technique all the more interesting. The three families were intrigued by you when you were a student, wanting to understand how you were able to use Plasma manipulation. Eventually they gave up when there didn’t seem to be a deeper meaning. You just could. 

You think you could fall asleep in your chair if you were given the chance. You weren't even supposed to be working today. It was a Saturday, but Inumaki had texted you for help and you couldn’t just say no. The two of you were a wreck after. By the time you finished, you were limping out while blood drippled past his lips. 

At least you knew for certain you wouldn't be working tomorrow. There were no missions assigned out on Sundays, giving you the chance to finally use the rest of the day today and all day tomorrow to recuperate. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel yourself slip, the temptation of sleep crawling up your spine. No one else was on campus, it wouldn't be that big of a deal to take a nap. There's no harm in resting your eyes for ten minutes before you head home, right? 

Your head clears as you slip between the state of being awake and being asleep. 

Your phone rings loudly, causing your eyes to fly open. 

Fuck. 

You fumble until your fingers wrap around your phone, pulling it up to see who’s calling. Chisaki. She was one of the friends you made when you took a couple years break from Jujutsu. She wasn’t a sorcerer, which made your relationship difficult at times. At the same time, you were able to act like a normal person around her. You win some, you lose some. 

“Hello?” You answer, dragging your hand across your eye. 

“You sleeping?” She must pick up on the heaviness in your voice. 

“No, what’s up?” You put her on speaker as you lean against your desk, resting your cheek sideways. 

Maybe you’d pass out like this. 

“Good. We’re going out tonight. I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

You almost groan but you’re able to stop yourself. You dreaded the idea of going out. All you wanted to do was get under your blankets and sleep for the next ten days. But, Chisaki never was one to take no for an answer. 

“Huh?” 

“I want to see you for drinks!” 

“But-“ 

“No! I am getting ready now and I will be by your place to pick you up in two hours.” 

You feel your shoulders crumple a bit at the order. It’s not that you didn’t want to see her. You were just so, so exhausted. You mumble a farewell before hanging up, soaking in the last few moments of silence before you have to make your way home. 

Once at home, you stand in front of your closet for way too long before deciding on what to wear. You had a black piece on the far side, only having worn it a couple times whenever you had a night out with Chisaki. It was a bit short for your taste, but you figured if you were going on a girls night you may as well go all in. Makeup felt like too much of a drag, so you just do the bare minimum, while leaving your hair down. The dress fits like a glove, caressing your curves in a way that almost makes you flustered. You briefly think about taking a picture to send to the boys, but ultimately decide against it. This was a girls night, you were going to devote zero time to them. 

Chisaki is already at the restaurant by the time you get there. You hadn’t eaten so you decided to go out for dinner, going out of your way to choose a place that had cheap and tasty drinks. She looks hot as ever as she waits in your booth, bold makeup painting her face while she wears a dress that was even tighter than yours. 

She calls your name, excitedly waving from her seat causing a few patrons to stare. It made you laugh, she did not care about drawing attention at all. 

“Looking good!” Chisaki comments, squeezing you in a hug before sitting across from you. 

Her hair gleams under the light and you find yourself feeling a bit jealous. She was always stunning. 

“So are you. Are we going out to dance after this?” You ask, sipping the water that was waiting for you. 

“Not unless you want to. Figured I may as well count my blessings that you came out at all. I haven’t seen you in months!” 

A pang of guilt shoots through your veins and you try not to wince. You honestly had no excuse for not hanging out. You were busy, sure, but you could have squeezed her in somewhere. Some kind of friend you were. 

“So tell me what’s been up with you lately. Spare no details.” She stares at you, sipping her cocktail. 

That was just like her. She seemed unbothered at your lack of contact, and you find yourself wordlessly thanking her. She gave you too many chances. She was a great friend. 

“Just work. I have some interesting students this year so they’re keeping me busy.” 

“I bet huh? Private school right? Are they rich and snobbish?” 

She didn’t know you were a Jujutsu sorcerer, so you told her you worked for a private school. You think back to your students and laugh to yourself. The only one there who could be considered rich and snobbish was Satoru. 

“Not this year, thank god.” 

A waiter comes back and you order a cocktail, and the two of you order your food. You were feeling like beef tonight, so that's what you get. 

The two of you make idle chatter as you sip and eat, the restaurant slowly filling up with other patrons. Even for a Saturday night it was busy, you were glad Chisaki snagged a seat for you. 

She worked at a hair salon, so it was always interesting to hear about the customers that came through there. You briefly imagine Suguru going and you shake your head with a chuckle. There was no way he let just anyone touch his hair. 

“So, any guys lately?” Chisaki asks, her words slurring together. 

She arrived a little earlier than you so she was definitely drunk, but you were starting to feel it as well. You sip from your drink and giggle. 

“Yeah, two of em.” 

“TWO?” Her volume causes the group next to you to turn their heads. 

“Yeah!” 

“What’re they like? Got any pictures?” 

She definitely was going to want to see them. 

“They’re opposites but also… Sort of really similar.” You say as you pull out your phone. 

You didn’t have any pictures with Suguru, but you had a multitude with Satoru. He was always the one taking them. ‘For the memories’ he’d say. You scroll through your photos until you find a picture with him. It was one he took when you were on an outing with the students, both of your classes together for once. He said the outing was to scout for curses, but in reality he just wanted to try out the new ice cream shop. He didn’t fool anyone. 

“One is really quiet and kind, the other one is… well” you think about how to describe Satoru. 

“Noisy and bitchy?” She finishes. 

You giggle and shake your head. 

“No he’s… he’s kinda like you actually.” 

“Huh? Should I be offended?” She asks with a laugh. 

You chuckle and finish your drink. The tips of your fingers were beginning to tingle as your eyelids started to droop. Okay, you were definitely starting to feel it. 

You turn the phone to her and she stares at Satoru, her eyes popping from her head. Satoru was definitely her type. You couldn’t blame her, he was your type too. 

“What a stud. You bagged them both?” 

You think for a moment. You were with both of them, but you weren't with them yet. It was casual and fun, but you weren't official. 

“Yeah, but it’s not anything serious yet.” 

“I see, I see. What’re they like in bed?” She asks. 

You’re drinking from your next glass as she asks and you choke on the liquid. Her eyebrows are raised as she stares at you, expecting a full breakdown of their sexual prowess. 

“We haven’t- Well… We’ve- I've only slept with one.” 

Memories from the previous night flash through your brain. The way he looked, smelled, tasted. You couldn’t dwell on it for too long or else you might get too worked up. 

“How was that?” 

You try to decide on how to put the night into words. Incredible, fantastic, life changing. You didn’t want to reduce Suguru to a body, but his dick game was unmatched. 

“Fucking unreal.” You say. 

Chisaki laughs and shoves your shoulder across the table. This was nice. You were having fun, talking about men and work like a normal person. You always had fun with her. 

“Lucky!” 

Your head swirls as the alcohol fills your system. You were feeling really fucking good. Your skin was tingly and your headache was gone, memories from the earlier fight already slipping from your brain. 

“Why haven’t you fucked the other one yet?” 

You stare at the table in front of you, trying to focus but you’re seeing double. Why hadn’t you fucked Satoru yet? You couldn’t come up with a reason. He was busy, sure, but so were you. He had been pining after you for years. If he really wanted to fuck, you definitely would’ve by now, right? 

“I don’t know.” 

“Come on! There must be a reason. Why don’t you make the first move?” 

“Satoru’s just always busy.” 

“That’s an excuse if I’ve ever heard one!” 

The more Chisaki talks, the angrier you get. She was right. There was no reason you and Satoru couldn’t have fucked by now. He’s just been teasing you and leaving you dry. 

“Chi!” 

“All I’m saying is maybe you have to tell him how you really feel. The guy probably doesn’t know you want his dick.” 

He definitely knew. He practically held it over your head every chance he got. The man was the walking definition of sex, and you didn’t know if it pissed you off or made you horny. 

You check the time on your phone. 11 pm. The guys would probably be up, right? Maybe you should go over and talk to him. 

“Yeah. I agree.” You murmur and dig in your purse for your card. 

“You heading out?” She asks. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna- gonna go talk to him I think.” 

Your legs wobble as you stand to your feet. Once you pay, you stumble outside. The streets are much more busier than they were several hours ago when you first arrived. There were loud voices coming from all directions, only disorienting you further. You reach an arm up to hail a taxi. While you’re waiting you sway back and forth, letting the Saturday night ambiance whisk you. You feel a pinch on the side of your foot so you lean down and yank your shoes off your feet. 

A taxi comes up fairly quickly, and you slide inside and give the address to the driver. Your head is spinning as you drive there, words filling your brain. What were you going to say to him? Maybe it would be better if you wing it. 

The taxi comes to a halt in front of the expensive apartment building. You dig around your purse until you find cash at the bottom, which you grab to pass to the driver. The cold pavement bites into your feet as you stammer to the front doors. 

Because it was so late, the front desk was empty. There wasn’t anyone around which you were grateful for. 

All you can focus on are your feet in front of you as you make your way to his place. The elevator makes you unsteady, you have to lean onto the side to not fall over. Maybe you had a little too much to drink. It didn’t bother you though, if anything it made you feel even more fired up. What was Satoru’s problem? Did he not want to fuck you? 

The elevator stops and you nearly fall over, but you’re able to steady yourself. You’re moving purely on memory as you take yourself to the boys apartment. 

You knock on the front door, swaying back and forth. 

The door opens and you look up. 

“What’re you doing here?”

Suguru says your name, eyes filled with concern as he watches you. 

He looked really good. 

What were you here for again? 

“S-Satoru.” You murmur, your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth. 

“Are you drunk?” Suguru asks, raising his hand to palm your cheek. 

“Satoru.” You repeat, smooshing your cheek further into his hand. 

He was so warm. You could probably fall asleep like this if he’d let you. 

Suguru looks over his shoulder then faces you again, sliding the door open more to let you in. You walk forward, your eyes following his as Suguru makes his way to the kitchen. He’s standing in front of the sink, sleeves pushed up as he washes dishes. 

Satoru is sitting at the bar, facing Suguru. He turns to look at you, a confused expression on his face. Satoru says your name, and you feel the anger start to seep up again. 

Right. 

You were here to fight with him. 

You slide on your feet until you’re in front of him, and he’s looking you up and down. 

“Are you drunk?” Satoru asks, squinting at you. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You respond, pointing a finger at his chest. 

Suguru is in the kitchen, eyes flicking back and forth between you two. His fingers are soapy as he washes the dishes, face neutral. 

“Huh?” Satoru says, almost offended. 

“I said what’s wrong with you?” You point into him harder. 

“I heard you. What’re you talking about?” 

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” Your voice is a bit louder than you mean for it to be. 

The room goes silent, Suguru’s hands pausing as he stares at the scene in front of him. He knows he shouldn’t get involved. 

“What?” Satoru’s expression shows that he thinks you’re ridiculous. 

That only makes you angrier. 

“You must not want to have sex with me, is that right? You keep teasing me, making me all ready only to leave!” Your chest is full of emotions, your face set in conviction. 

“That’s not- I’m busy.” 

“Sure, sure. Maybe you’re just worried you're not gonna be as good as Suguru.” 

Suguru’s eyes widen and he stares at his hands, instantly going back to work. 

Not getting involved. He is not getting involved. 

“You and Suguru had sex?” Satoru asks, and you think you pick up on something similar to hurt in his voice. 

You don't care. All you can think about are the emotions simmering in your body. 

“I was going to tell you today.” Suguru says. 

Suguru shuts off the water after washing his hands, turning around to dry them. He’s digging in the cupboard, but your eyes are boring into Satoru’s, a silent battle going on between the two of you. 

You hiccup and the motion almost causes you to fall over, so you fly a hand out to grip onto the counter. 

“You’ve been flirting with me for forever! Do you not want to?” Your voice breaks at the end as you feel your heart break. 

“You know I want to.” Satoru’s voice is split between pleading and disbelief. 

Suguru comes up behind you with a glass of water. He nudges it toward you, but you push his hand away, only caring about the fight. 

“Drink.” Suguru softy says. 

“No!” You squirm away from him.

Suguru holds the back of your head and lifts the cup to your mouth. You try to fight back but once the liquid touches your lips you take several big gulps. 

Satoru’s eyes are staring into you the whole time, filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. Suguru steps back once you finish the glass and goes towards the kitchen, leaning back. 

“If you don't want to then just tell me.” You try to seem strong. 

What if he really didn’t want to? You wanted him to want to. 

Satoru sighs and gets to his feet, now towering over you. You refuse to back down, instead looking up towards him. He grabs your arm and bends down, his face right infront of yours. There’s rocks in your stomach and you feel like your heart has stopped beating. 

“I want to. God knows I want to.” He says. 

He stands back up and turns towards Suguru. 

“I'm gonna bring her to our bed.” 

Satoru holds your hand and drags you to his room. Is he wanting to go now? That didn’t sound too bad. You start to slip your sleeves off your shoulders, getting your dress partly off your body before he turns around. 

“What’re you doing?” He says, stopped in his room. 

It’s just the two of you now, the heat of his gaze causing your mind to reel. 

“We’re gonna-“ 

“No, we aren’t. Not right now.” Satoru replies, not even looking down at your chest. 

He goes to his dresser and pulls out a shirt, one big enough it would cover everything and then some. He throws it over his shoulder as he starts to take off your clothes, large hands grazing over your skin. 

Suguru walks in the room and watches from the door as Satoru tries to undress you. 

“What do we do?” Satoru asks, unsure how to handle a drunk person. 

“She’ll need Tylenol before she goes to sleep.” Suguru says and turns around to go back to the kitchen to retrieve the medication. 

Satoru’s able to get your clothes off and is in the process of sliding his shirt over your head. You can’t stop staring at him, drawn in by his beauty. Was he always so perfect? 

You were beginning to forget why you were even mad in the first place, head spinning as you admire him. 

“Get in.” He murmurs, watching as you slide in bed. 

You feel small under their sheets, but they’re so soft. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look up at Satoru, the lamp making his white hair appear gold. Suguru comes back with pills and sits on the edge of the bed, slipping them in your mouth.

He urges you to drink water from the glass in his hand and you’re more willing this second time around. 

Your body’s heavy as you sink into the sheets, your eyes having a hard time staying open. The men are standing above you, watching as you make yourself comfortable. You couldn’t even remember why you were here. All you could focus on was the way the pillows felt beneath your head. 

“We’ll talk more tomorrow morning.” Satoru says. 

Suguru leans down to kiss your forehead before he’s slipping out of the room. 

“What’s up with you?” Satoru says soft enough you almost miss it, eyes lingering on your face. 

He presses a kiss to your cheek before stepping away, turning off the light. 

~~~

Your body wakes up slowly, your head tossing back and forth over the soft pillow beneath you. It was hard to crack your eyes open, but you manage. 

Wait. 

Where were you? 

You knew exactly where you were, and it wasn’t in your bed. Why were you in Satoru and Suguru’s house? Your body flies up as your eyes dart across the room. The bed was empty besides you, there was no hint of either man in the room. 

When you look down you notice that you’re wearing clothes at least, thank god, but they’re not your clothes. You pull the fabric to your nose where you sniff, Satoru’s cologne filling your nostrils. 

“Why am I wearing…” you murmur to yourself. 

“Morning sunshine.” You hear Satoru’s voice. 

He waltzes in with a tray of food in his hands. Waffles, bacon, and fruit. Suguru must’ve cooked, Satoru sure as hell didn't. The sight of the food causes your stomach to rumble, loud enough you’re sure the whole house must’ve heard it. Satoru doesn’t even spare you a glance as he sets the tray down on the nightstand, sitting on the side of the bed. 

“Take those, Suguru says you'll need them.” He’s pointing to a couple of pills on the tray. Tylenol by the looks of it. 

You eye him carefully as you slip the medicine in your mouth, bringing the glass of water to your lips. You didn't realize how parched you were until the liquid passed your throat. The glass is empty by the time you’re finished. 

“Suguru said it’s important to take them. I don’t really know how to handle drunk people or hangovers, but Suguru’s had his fair share.” Satoru’s rambling and you can tell. Usually people ramble when they’re nervous, but not Satoru. When he's nervous, which happens rarely, he gets quiet. And that made you more uneasy. 

“Quite the show you put on last night.” Satoru says. 

What happened last night? 

“So, you wanna tell me what the hell that was?” Satoru crosses his leg over the other, a bloated silence falling over the room. 

Your stomach flips under his gaze. What was he feeling? You felt like you were being scolded, that’s for sure. 

“I-I’m not sure.” 

Satoru barks out a laugh that jolts you. As he laughs, your eyes trail down his figure. He’s wearing a plain black shirt with boxers, the sight of his bare legs nearly scandalous. 

“You aren't sure? Do you even remember what happened last night?” 

You weigh your options in your head. You could tell him you remember, and just wing it. Or you could admit that you totally forgot everything. Which was worse? 

Your fingers pick at the blanket as you wrack your brain for anything, only to come up empty handed. It couldn’t have been that bad, right?

“I don’t.” You settle on the truth, figuring it’s better than the alternative. 

“Well, let me clue you in.” Satoru leans forward and grabs a grape, popping it into his mouth. 

Your eyes follow him as he sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking off fruit juice from his finger. The way his tongue darts out to clean his finger causes your chest to tighten. 

“You came here after you went out drinking. I'm not sure where you were before coming here. Then you stormed in here and started yelling at me. In my own house.” Satoru turns towards you and you feel the need to back up slightly. 

“Yelled at me because we haven’t had sex yet. Apparently you’ve had sex with Suguru already though, which is news to me.” 

He isn’t mad. You know exactly what he looks like when he's mad, and this isn’t it. That doesn’t change the fact you feel like you’re being reprimanded. 

You blew up at him because you haven’t had sex yet? It did bother you, but you didn't think you were that mad. You knew it was because you kept getting interrupted. And it would happen eventually, you knew it would. 

“I don’t really care about that. I mean, I wish you would’ve told me, but it’s not a big deal. You know what is a big deal though?” Satoru leans in, his presence all consuming. 

“The fact you thought we haven’t fucked because I would be worried Suguru would be better.” He narrows his eyes at you, searching you for answers. 

You really said that? 

“Satoru, I-“ 

“I mean, I would be more offended if you took everything back. I may cry if you pretend you aren’t upset that we haven’t had sex yet” 

Satoru raises a brow as he looks at you and suddenly you feel like he's twenty feet tall. 

“You aren't going to take it back, are you?” 

“N-no.” 

Satoru carefully gets up from the bed only to get on top once more, crawling over to you. His eyes are locked on you the entire time, leaving your skin buzzing. 

“Didn't think so.” Satoru stops in front of you and lifts his hand up. 

His palm holds your cheek and you’re frozen in place, unable to do anything. Even if you could move, you aren't sure what you'd do. Satoru presses his lips against yours, and even though you were expecting it, you still inhale sharply. His lips mold to yours as easily as they always do, as if they were made for yours. Your eyes flutter closed as you taste the remnants of fruit on his lips. 

He parts his mouth and swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, smirking at the whine you let out. Your heart is racing as his tongue slides into your mouth, tangling itself with yours. It’s getting heated fast, and you remember a small little fact in the back of your head. 

“Satoru, what about Suguru?” You ask, pulling yourself away even though it feels painful. 

“I told him to leave for two hours.” 

He pushes his lips against yours again, more rough than the first time. Your fingers dig into the bed, not sure where to place them. Was this really happening? 

Satoru spreads your legs and you have no choice but to lean back, at the mercy of him as he hovers over you. It’s overwhelming in the way he’s completely covering you. Your mind reels as your mouths move in tandem. 

You were almost expecting his phone to ring, to rip him away from you. There was always something that kept you apart, like god couldn’t fathom the idea of you together. 

Satoru pulls away and grins to himself. 

“You’re kind of greedy, aren't you?” He questions. 

“Fucking Suguru then coming here to ask for more? Naughty little girl.” 

Satoru reaches up between your legs. He brushes against your thighs, before pushing your shirt up. The hair on the back of your neck stands up at the cool air that blows against your stomach. His thumb rubs your tender flesh before he kisses you again. 

You’re panting by the time he kisses you once more, positive you’re leaking between your legs. He pulls away and stares into your eyes as his hand traverses your skin.

His hands find your underwear and he slides his fingers inside, wasting no time as he traces your slit. Satoru watches your reactions as he slides a finger inside, groaning as it sinks into your pussy. 

Satoru pulls it out carefully before sliding it back in, lips parted as he watches you. You always knew he had long fingers, but knowing was much more different than feeling. It felt like he was reaching your throat.  

Satoru has a slight grin on his face as he stretches you out, and all prior guilt you may have held was gone. Of course you didn’t expect him to be really mad at you, but you didn’t think you were going to get rewarded either. He eases a second finger in, curling them up until you let out a shaky moan. It felt weird to be open like this with him, the two of you constantly teased each other. You were half expecting him to make a smart remark at your expense given how pathetic you looked, and felt. 

“How’s it feel?” His voice is low and dangerous as he hovers above you. 

“S-so good.” 

You clench the sheets beside you, looking down to watch where his hand was. You were getting so wet that your pussy made noises each time he slid his fingers in. His palm presses against your clit as he finger fucks you, causing your breathing to stutter. 

You’re trying to keep still underneath him but it's getting increasingly difficult as his hand speeds up, the heel of his hand bumping into your clit each time. His long fingers stroke your sensitive walls, and you know that you’ll never be able to repeat the sensation. You were sort of pissed at yourself for missing out on this for years. It felt like he was bringing you to the gates of heaven with his fingers. You wished you could feel this forever, the pleasure nearly overwhelming. 

Your moans increase as his lips graze against your skin. He’s close to your face, eyes flicking back and forth between yours. He must be able to feel the rhythmic clenching because he lets out a dark chuckle. The heat of his gaze makes it hard to breathe. 

You’re close. 

So close.

“That’s it baby, let it all out.” His hushed words of encouragement are all you need to send you over the edge. 

You throw your head back as you cum, you don’t think you could handle looking at him. His fingers slow as you float back down to earth, a dull tingling running over your skin. 

When your eyes flicker back to Satoru, he's looking at you with hunger. For a moment it startles you. 

He sits up and slides his hands down your sides until they settle on your underwear. They’re off in a blink of an eye, and he's spreading your legs. 

“Satoru!”

“What, you didn’t think we were done, did you?” His voice is filled with disbelief as he looks at you. 

Your teeth dig in your lip as you watch him lay on his stomach, face in front of your pussy. You’re a mess, you can tell. Cum is sliding from your core, making you wiggle your hips. 

“Don’t worry, I'll clean you up.” His breath brushes against you making you shiver. 

Satoru sticks his tongue out and drags it through you, savoring your taste. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm so you squirm backwards to try to have a little bit of reprieve. It almost hurts how sensitive you are. Satoru holds your legs open as you whine, his mouth attached to you. 

You can hardly breathe. Satoru was always like that,  though. Making it so you didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. 

“I've been dreaming about this pussy for days, I missed the taste of you.” 

He dips his tongue inside you, dragging it back out. His grip is nearly bruising as he pushes your legs open. You can’t say anything, only whimpers fall from your mouth. His tongue nudges against your clit and it feels like a punch in the gut, you let out a broken sob. 

When Satoru pulls away there’s a string attaching his lips to your pussy, the sight pornographic. You force yourself to look away, somehow still finding it in yourself to be self conscious. 

You hear a rustling of clothes in front of you and out of the corner of your eye you see Satoru sliding his shirt off, exposing his lean abs. The sight was mouthwatering, you could feel drool begin to seep past your lips. 

Without his shirt you’re able to see the large bulge that’s poking from his groin. You think you catch a wet patch but it's hard to tell. 

You close your legs as you stare at him. 

“You’re ruthless.” You murmur. 

“And you’re a brat.” He says. 

“Am not!” 

“Are to.” 

“You just make me so-“ 

“Wanna put that mouth to the test, then?” 

Satoru looks at you with a cocky grin as he slips his thumbs beneath the band of his boxers, pulling them down. You inhale sharply as his cock springs out, standing straight. The tip is a pretty pink, precum leaking down the sides. There wasn’t a singular flaw. He’s slightly longer than Suguru, which mildly scares you, but he wasn’t as thick. Your hole clenches as he brings his hand down, stroking himself twice as he watches you. 

You move to your hands and knees and crawl towards him, tunnel vision on his cock. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing down your throat, could you? Then again, you didn’t think you'd be able to take all of Suguru either, and you were able to. 

You come to a halt once his cock is a mere two inches from your face. His precum is shining in the morning sun, a tantalizing sight. When you flick your eyes up to him, he's already looking at you. He raises a hand and pushes your hair back, gripping it. Your stomach twists as a pool of desire pours through you. You want to make him proud. 

Your tongue lolls out, and you watch him as you glide it against his tip. He releases a hiss at the feeling, his stomach flexing. You were already craving more. You swipe your tongue again, the sound of his moans going straight to your pussy. When you pop the tip into your mouth, you gently suck. You allow your eyes to close as you fall into a rhythm, your head moving as you carefully take more of him. 

He’s already halfway down your throat, and you still have inches to go. You struggle to breath as your throat spasms, the craving for oxygen desperately clawing at your insides. When you hear him moan once more, you think that you might not need to breathe again, as long as you get to hear him keep making those noises. 

Your skin breaks out in goosebumps. You force yourself to take more until he's hitting the back of your throat. Gags fill the room as you start to choke on his cock. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” Satoru moans. 

He keeps his hips still as you gag on him, slowly bringing your head back. You slide your tongue along his sensitive veins, swallowing as he continues to leak down your throat. His groans make butterflies release in your stomach. 

When you open your eyes again, the sight above you whisks you off your feet. Satoru’s lips are parted, a light pink dusting across his cheeks. 

Handsome, handsome, handsome. 

You tear your mouth off and watch as a string of saliva falls down your face. Satoru’s leaning down, grabbing your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. There’s a sense of urgency in the way he kisses you, his front teeth knocking against yours. He helps push you back until you’re laying down and he's hovering over you. When he pulls away, you're able to see him up close. Every little detail is on display in front of you. His unique blue eyes, flawless skin, and strands of white hair. 

Satoru pulls your shirt up, throwing it off to the side. It’s getting harder to breathe. It was finally happening. He pushes your legs apart and glides in between. 

Years, you had been waiting years for this. 

“Let me get a condom.” He murmurs under his breath, leaning over you to search his nightstand. 

“Wait, you have condoms?” 

“Yeah, bought them after our last night.” Satoru responds, sitting back. 

He’s holding the packet, opening it as he carefully looks at the condom. 

He didn't really have to wear one. Plus, you didn’t want him to. 

“Satoru, I’m on birth control.” 

He stops in his tracks and looks up at you. You only have a quick moment to gather yourself before he's tossing the condom aside, lowering down until his bare chest presses against yours. 

“Thank god, you're gonna let me feel you?” 

You moan quietly in confirmation. 

Satoru’s cock slides between your folds as he rocks his hips back and forth slowly. You can hear how sopping wet you are, but it only makes him glide easier. His tip bumps against your clit and you groan out, attempting to squeeze your legs together but your attempts are thwarted by Satoru’s hips. 

He pushes himself up and looks down between the two of you, using one hand to guide his cock to your core. The head presses against you and you can feel the momentary tension before he slips inside. As soon as he dips inside, your pussy is pulling him in, aching for more. 

Satoru moans as he watches himself carefully push in deeper and deeper, and you can’t take your eyes off the sight either. It's mesmerizing. He’s halfway in when you feel him bump your gspot, making your lips tremble. 

You think you stop breathing but you don’t notice, not when all of your attention is on him. His cock carves a hole into your walls, making you see white. Satoru’s moaning above you, and it only makes you clench against him. He must feel it. 

“Fuck, almost there. Think you can handle more?” 

You can tell he's snickering without glancing at him. He must be teasing you. But you aren't sure if you can. Can you take more? It feels like he's already two feet deep inside of you. 

“More.” You groan out. 

“You really are greedy.” Satoru murmurs. 

He thrusts all the way in and you think your heart stops. It takes you several seconds before the ringing in your ears calm and you're able to bring yourself back down to earth. 

He’s so fucking deep. 

Your pussy tightens around him. Your skin feels like it's buzzing with the need for more. You expect him to be grinning to himself with a quip sitting on the tip of his tongue, but when you look up, that’s not what you see at all. He’s staring down at where you’re connected, eyes unblinking as they glaze over. His tongue slowly drags over his bottom lip to wet it. Not only were you feeling ruined, but apparently so was he. 

You two hadn’t even started yet. 

“You’re so f-fucking wet,” he says, pulling his hips back a couple inches before thrusting in again. “And warm,” he goes on, his cock sliding from you. “And tight.” 

You moan beneath him and dig your nails into his arms, your head reeling from the feel of his cock. He isn’t even going fast, but you still can’t control your breathing. The schlick noises fill the room along with a mixture of your groans. Satoru’s breathing hard as he squints at where you’re connected, entranced by the way you keep sucking him in. 

“Made me wait years for this.” A forced laugh bubbles up from his mouth and you can feel he's building up speed. 

“Then you have the nerve to come to my house and act like I’m the one who’s been stopping us?” He moans once before slamming into you. 

“Give me a fucking break.” He murmurs. 

You yelp and grip onto him tighter. He’s pressing into your gspot each time he pushes himself in. Your clit is feeling neglected, twitching under the heat of his stare. 

He sets a good pace, his moans starting to join yours. They were getting you off just as much as his cock was. It was a good thing Suguru wasn’t home, or else he’d be able to hear every little noise coming from the two of you. 

“Satoru you’re so fucking big.” You groan. 

“I know, but you can take it. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” 

He thrusts himself in, moaning once he feels you squeeze around him. He knows he might be going too fast, but he doesn’t care. He needs this. He needs you. 

You’re close to sobbing below him, feeling so good you think you may die. Your legs are twitching on either side of his hips, so you wrap them around him to steady yourself. This only achieves in pulling him in closer. 

“Shit.” He moans quietly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

You wrap your hands around his neck to tug him down closer to you, wanting to feel him utterly and completely. His sweaty chest presses against yours, your swollen nipples dragging along his tight muscles. His mouth is directly beside your ear, his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

You’re moaning loud and digging your nails in once more. Your pussy is already getting sore from the way he's pounding into you, but you couldn’t care less. 

He snakes a head between the two of your bodies and slides it to your clit. You’re shaking beneath him as he starts to rub slow methodical circles around you. 

“Is this what you needed, baby?” He asks. 

“Y-yes, fuck, yes!” 

It was too much. He was too much. 

You moan as he pushes into you, the whole time he's stroking your clit. If this is what you get when you bitch to him, maybe you should do it far more often. Your skin prickles. 

“Yeah? Just needed to get fucked good, huh?” 

You wished he would shut up. His words were bringing you closer to the edge, but you didn’t want to cum yet. You wanted more and you wanted it to last longer. 

“Satoru you're gonna make me,” you groan as his finger speeds up. 

“Cum? You gonna be a good girl for me for once and cum on my cock?” 

You aren't sure how you haven’t drawn blood yet with the way your nails are embedded in his skin. It's hard to breathe with the pressure on your chest and the pleasure buzzing through your veins. 

His cock thrusts inside you, working with the way his finger glides against you. 

You were so fucking close. 

He groans beside you as your pussy begins to rhythmically twitch against him, betraying your wants as you inch towards your orgasm. 

“Look at me.” He commands, pulling up until his face is inches in front of yours. “Want you to look at me as you cum.” 

Your eyes trail along his face, unsure of where to look. He looked good. You didn’t want to appreciate just one of his features. You wanted all of him. 

His blue eyes demand your attention so you give in to stare at them. 

He only has to swipe a couple more times before you cum, your mouth hanging open as you clench around his cock. You’re so tight he nearly has a hard time fucking you through it, your pussy desperately clinging to him. He’s almost as loud as you as you cum, trying to stave off his own orgasm until you finish first. 

Your vision clears up but you're immediately thrust back into the throws of passion. He’s not done yet. The whimpers falling from his lips threaten to turn you on again. 

“Where do you want me to,” his voice is airy as he inches closer. 

“Inside!” 

“Yeah? Gonna let me cum inside and fill up t-this pussy?” He’s delirious you think, but you aren’t faring much better. 

“Yes, yes,” you moan. “Please, please.” 

His hip thrusts become irregular until he lets out one last loud groan, shooting cum inside you. It's warm and sticky as it fills you up, threatening to leak from the sides of your pussy if he wasn’t plugging you up. 

He pushes into you a couple more times before sitting up, the two of you watching as his cock slides from you. His cum drips from your pussy, the heat of it dragging on your skin. 

When you look up you find that he's already staring at you. You think he may want to go again. 

“You doing okay?” He questions. 

That wasn’t what you were expecting. 

“Yeah…” You’re better than okay. You feel weightless. 

You finally fucked the two of them. Even though you shouldn’t have come over and yelled at Satoru, you were slightly thanking yourself. 

Satoru grabs a towel to slide between you, cleaning up his cum. You wince at the sensation, which he chuckles at before he tosses the soiled fabric away. 

You sit up and immediately feel the way your pussy begins to ache. You hadn’t gotten used to the sizes of them yet. Your throat is parched as you watch Satoru lay down beside you, his skin glistening in the morning light. 

“I'm gonna get water.” You murmur. 

“Okay. I’ll be here. Promise.” He kisses the side of your mouth. 

Your lips threaten to smile, so you get up and turn around before he can see it. You throw on his discarded shirt before opening the bedroom door, making your way out. 

“Oh hey. Done already?” 

Your feet stop instantly. You turn to the side and find Suguru sitting next to the bedroom door, flicking through a book. 

He was here? 

“I-I thought. Satoru said-“ you stutter as Suguru looks up, his feline eyes making your heart flutter. “Satoru said you wouldn't be home for two hours.” 

“Satoru told me to leave for one hour.” He murmurs. 

What a little shit. 

Suguru’s eyes slide from your face down your figure. He appreciates the way his boyfriends shirt clings to your body, your bare legs out in the open for him. 

“What’s taking so long-“ Satoru’s voice surrounds you. “Oh hey Suguru, didn’t know you’d be back so soon.” Satoru nearly sounds giddy. 

Satoru’s wearing his boxers once more but he skipped putting on a shirt. If Suguru somehow hadn’t heard the two of you, which he most certainly did, then he would have been able to tell what you had done just based on your appearances. 

How embarrassing. 

You bring your hands up to your face to hide yourself. Suguru must have heard everything, or close to everything. 

“Did you have fun?” Suguru asks. 

He doesn’t seem mad, if anything he seems smug. 

“I did. She’s amazing.” Satoru answers. 

“I know.” Suguru responds, a cocky grin spreading across his lips. 

“I'm gonna go get water…” you try to excuse yourself, embarrassment creeping up all over you. 

Your eyes fly across the room, looking for something to settle your gaze on. You see the couch which has two blankets thrown against them with two pillows on either side. Had they slept out here last night? 

“Go lay down sweetheart. You must be exhausted.” Suguru stands and walks over to you, kissing the top of your head. 

“I did all the-“ Satoru starts to say before Suguru shoots him a dirty look. 

“I'm assuming you didn’t get around to eating your breakfast?” Suguru asks, tilting your head up. 

You remember the tray of food that Satoru had brought in, you never got around to eating any of it. 

His thumb swipes the corner of your eye where your tears were starting to dry. Tears you cried because his boyfriend was fucking you. 

“No.” You say.

“I’ll make some more then.” He replies. 

Him and Satoru share a look before Suguru’s turning around to head to the kitchen. They were both stifling a grin, contentment settling over their bones at their decision to open their relationship. Satoru turns you around and brings you back to their bed, scooping you up and setting you down on the soft sheets. 

“Wait here, okay?” He says to you. 

You get comfortable under the blankets before grinning at him. 

“I'm not going anywhere after what you did to me.” 

Satoru chuckles and rolls his eyes before standing up. 

“You liked it and you know it.” 

“Never said I didn’t.” You watch as he makes his way to the bedroom door. 

He closes it softly behind him, leaving you alone to recuperate.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @spookysoowpprince, @reosnagi, @faerie-soirxx, @platrom, @oownowonwoo, @megumisdivinedogs, @sakui1, @maskedpacific, @riri-twix

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[isa-ghost]

this one is pretty specific, but do you have any ideas on what phil did during the week in the birdcage?

OHOHOHOHOHOHHO GOOD SHIT GOOD SHIT

Phil headcanons masterlist

He had no way to tell time. He tried at first, it wasn't working unless he was counting constantly, and that was driving him insane faster than being trapped was, so he quickly gave up. Eventually he'd just try to bet whether it was day or night based off nearby mob sounds, but that proved to be unreliable. He searched every last inch of the Birdhouse for some kind of crack to see the outside, but to no avail.

He spent a lot of his time cradling Chayanne and Lullah's items to his chest and just... laying there, helpless. Desolate. Defeated. He hadn't felt that useless and weak in a very, very long time and it brought up BAD memories.

Whenever sleeping wasn't cutting it, he'd find what he could to lock-pick and free the caged birds. Then he'd spend the time to earn their trust and preen their feathers. It hurts too much to move his own, so he rarely preens himself nowadays. He was relieved to discover his fingers still have the gentle finesse needed to preen wings.

To no one's surprise, any time he wasn't miraculously passing out due to boredom or stress-fueled exhaustion, he was up and pacing, thinking, frantically trying to plan a way to escape.

It'd be a lie to say he wasn't worrying himself sick thinking about what if Missa finally had time to visit and he was missing it due to being trapped.

One of his least favorite parts of being trapped was jumping at any little noise from outside, getting those awful chest flutters and anxiously trying to track it or work out what the source was in the hopes that it was someone who'd come to free him. The footsteps of mobs at night were pure torture.

Obligatory food rationing mention. He regretted bringing gapples. :) He was majorly gambling with risking reviving his old addiction.

He was angry at himself for quite a while, he would've finally sorted all his backpacks thoroughly if he had them with.

Of course he sifted through the boxes and whatnot that were in there. He found nothing of value. A few actually had some borderline sadistic things in them, like feathers. He stopped searching after that, it was making him feel like he was waiting to be butchered.

To try and keep himself sane, he'd converse with the hummingbirds. He had no idea at the time that they were basically messengers/vessels of Rose. He wasn't so alone after all.

A few times, he made the mistake of trying to stretch his wings, test out their healing. Very bad idea, every time. Just resulted in more pain.

Eventually he just gave up on everything and wouldn't move from the rafters. It felt safer. Perching always makes him feel safer. He knew instinctively not to fall while sleeping up there.

He spent more time than he'd ever admit obsessively looking over his map. It wasn't going to do him any good, but he couldn't stop frantically looking at it.

Semi-related, his communicator was jammed the entire time he was trapped, the Federation no-doubt blocked his signal. He tried whispering Fit and Tubbo countless times. It seemed like the messages were never delivered.

Well, at least Birdhouse taught him how to ground himself from panic attacks well. It's too bad that Ender King's arrival shortly thereafter would scare him so bad that said grounding techniques wouldn't work.

He can't remember any of this btw, as far as he knows, he passed out and dreamed of Hardcore the entire time. :) It's unclear if it's due to the meddling of the federation or something else.

[howlonomy]

I have a Question.

Sinch clover a monster.

Who going to raise them or take care of them.

Here the only three i can think of who would do a good and proper job.

At number one. Dalv. Seem like a ok guy. Nervous and easily scard.

At number two. Ceroba. At sum point she did try and help you In the steam work and Wild east. But she did try to attack you and take your soul to save kanako.

At number three. Martlet. The loyal and friendly bird monster. Only reason she started the attack in the begging is because she was train to do that. She travels and help you through your journey. She can also teach clover to fly.

* couch couch * starlo did lock up martlet who was helping clover. Then Force clover to do his test and the dual. Win he past the test and become dupty his possy/feisty five got angry and attack clover became starlo made clover deputy. Then after all of starlos friends left him. He did attack clover out of stupidity because he blamed clover for his own mistake.

So let say starlo get the -100 point here

first off, i love how much thought you put into this. you’re right about all of them!!

heres the current living arrangements of the gang on the surface;

-Starlo still live with the Four! they dont have their own town anymore, just a saloon, but they still stick together and got a house. its a little too crowded for Clover’s taste (based off of the flavor text that their house reminds them of bad times. i dont think it would be good for them)

-Dalv travels around a LOT for his job. he would be a good roommate, but hes barely at his house longer than a few weeks before hes off on the next tour or next job. but he definitely visits!

-Martlet and Ceroba live together. Ceroba didn’t want to live alone, and needed help settling in AND taking care of Kanako, so Martlet offered for her and Kanako to stay with her. there was just too much going on at Starlo’s house, and Martlet’s place was a lot calmer and fit to take care of a newly released amalgamate. Clover ends up living with them! Kanako begs for it

there would definitely have to be a lot if serious talks between Clover and the adults. they DID just kind of let a child kill themselves?? and try to kill them multiple times. but i think they could work it out; Clover doesn’t hold grudges and Ceroba is going to try real hard to make it up to Clover.

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - four

word count: 4.4k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst, fluff.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

three.

You reckoned you’d read the same passage of writing a dozen times since you’d received word Bradley had arrived back in San Diego. He had his phone back on him and while he’d told you a dozen times over that all the checks were routine and above board, the sinking feeling that he’d ditched his plane was all that was running through your head and the single question:

Why? 

You’d almost lost him, you didn’t know how and you didn’t know why, but you almost lost him. You couldn’t connect the dots, he was notorious for his safe predictability, but something just didn’t add up. Mission a success, target achieved (whatever it was, you didn’t give half a shit about the semantics and told Natasha as such when you spoke to her) but nothing was cut and dry and you couldn’t stop thinking about how it might have gone wrong.

Adding insult to injury, you weren’t allowed to see him until he’d had complete further testing tomorrow (at the earliest) and was declared fit enough to be discharged. Your phone rang a while later and you were so relieved to see Natasha’s local number, she was back stateside also. “Nat, hey,” you answered softly.

“Hi,” she said, sounding as tired as your felt. The last thing she needed to be doing was calling you at such a late hour. “I probably woke you, huh?”

You scoffed a laugh. “Found out the love of my life was in a mid-air incident a few days back, and I still can’t see him even though he’s only a few miles away. Trust me when I say that I am not sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Natasha couldn’t say she was surprised. “I’ll bet.”

“Do you have any updates?”

“No, they just want to keep an eye on the concussion after this evening’s scan. He’s okay, talking, but sore. He’s got a few bumps and bruises, some bleeding they need to keep an eye on.”

You knew all of this. Bradley had been trying to keep you as up-to-date as he’d allow but you knew he was going out of his way to keep things light. He mentioned about 8pm he’d been given some pretty hefty meds to knock him out and help with some swelling. “Think I can come in tomorrow?”

“Of course. But I think he’s hoping to be out by tomorrow. He’s pushing pretty hard for a release,” Natasha told you and he’d told you the same.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“Of course,” she said like it was no big thing.

“And how are you?” you asked softly.

“I’m okay,” she admitted. “Tired. Glad to be home.”

“I’ll bet. Can I do anything for you?”

“Naw,” she admitted. “I’ll see you tomorrow though, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Nat.”

“Of course,” she said before mumbling a quiet goodnight and hanging up.

The clock told you it was nearly 2:30am and while you yawned on instinct, you knew you wouldn’t be sleeping until you were allowed to see your man who was all alone in that cold, sterile hospital bed across town.

Hearing the phone ding, you sighed, picking it up again but a gentle smile formed seeing Bradley’s name and a simple, “Love you, sweet girl x”

The next morning, you were waiting at the nurse’s station as soon as visiting hours opened. Addressed formally by the nurse who chuckled at your eagerness, you stated Bradley’s room number and she knew who you were immediately. “512,” she repeated as you gently patted the desk and thanked them kindly, wandering doing the hallway towards Bradley’s room.

You hated hospitals. The nose-stinging smell, the sounds of machines beeping and shivering from the cold.

His door was open a crack and you could hear Sportscenter. God, there was going to be a lot of this over the next few weeks, you realised. You gently knocked on the door and carefully poked your head in. Bradley sat up, a grin pulling to his face excitedly and immediately cursed, flinching back against the pillows, grabbing his ribs. “Oh Bradley,” you came in and stood beside him. “Guess I don’t need to ask how the ribs are, huh?” you brushed back his wild curls back and tenderly kissed his forehead.

“Please kiss me properly,” he begged as you lovingly cupped his chin, unfamiliar with its stubble and did as requested, sweet and placid, he was in a hospital bed after all. “Hi, baby. I missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice raspier in its underuse as you pressed single kisses into his lips again.

“I missed you too. I’m so glad to see you,” you admitted. Albeit… here. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he admitted. “Pretty banged up. Ribs are fucking killing me.”

“Can see that,” you continued to smooth back his hair, thumb brushing carefully against his forehead.

“No breaks, no fractures,” he reported. “Concussion is what they’re most concerned about. Head is pretty sore,” he supposed, shifting carefully on the hospital bed. “Come up here with me.”

“I’ll stay here,” you reassured him, grabbing the seat near the door and dragging it over.

“Love, please?” he asked, his tone meek. Sad, maybe a little scared and you stopped because there was a tone in his sweet rasp you’d never heard from him before and nodded, going back to the bed and scampering up at daintily as you could, not wanting to cause any disturbance to his aches.

You inspected Bradley closely and he winced under your gaze. If not for a few scratches and what you imagined was a lot of concealed contusions, he seemed perfectly fine. “Thank God. Handsome as always,” you joked, knowing he needed the respite, holding his face and kissing him again. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again,” you admitted quietly. 

“I’m sorry, love. I’m here. I’m safe with you,” he murmured. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way…”

“What happened, Bradley? You’re so safe out there,” your inquisitiveness getting the best of you as he gazed back, sheepishly and was interrupted by a knock.

“Doc,” Bradley said, relieved by the intrusion. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” his doctor wandered in and addressed you personally, obviously knowing exactly who you were whether Bradley had worded him up previously or not, you weren’t sure. “How’s your grandpa?” he asked you, picking up Bradley’s chart and contemplating his report.

“Uhh, he’s good,” you said, annoyed momentarily at how notorious the Metcalfe name was around this town. It wasn’t the time to be asking about Grandpa. You gave Bradley some space and stood up. He reached for your hand which you took in yours. He gave you a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Good to hear,” he peered up over the paperwork, eyes friendly as he approached Bradley and pulled out his torch, Bradley submissively looked up to have his eyes reviewed. “Pupils, corneas receptive. The good news is the concussion isn’t as bad as first indicated, Lieutenant. CT and MRI scans are positive. But obviously, post-ejection,” he continued as Bradley could feel your eyes shift to him, hot under your stare that cast daggers at him as you started adding up all he’d been through. He flushed and avoided your scrutiny, pretending to listen intently to the doctor. “We are going to be concerned about your spine. Your x-rays show no fractures, which is a great result.”

“Any chance I can bug out today?” Bradley’s asked, his light joke ill-timed as you loosened your grip on his calloused palm and he looked back at you warily, as you crossed your arms tightly across your chest.

The doctor snickered. “We assume so. A few more tests and you should be able to sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Feel like I might be in the doghouse,” Bradley muttered, forcing a smile, placing his hands in his lap, and wringing his fingers together like a scolded child.

“I’m sure you’re just happy to have him home?” the doctor looked at you, trying to diffuse the situation that was brewing.

“Of course,” you forced. “Just glad he’s home… after punching out.”

“That was the first time you’d heard that, I presume?”

“Something like that.”

“Baby, I’ll explain all I can when we’re home, okay?” Bradley reached for your hand again and stepping forward, you begrudgingly took it.

“Okay.”

“Would you be upset if we just relax in the bedroom?” Bradley asked. After trudging up the stairs to the apartment, he was out of breath and headed straight for the living room.

“Of course not. I realise we’re not going to be popping bottles tonight,” you sighed as he laughed quietly. “Let me get you some water and I’ll meet you in bed, okay?”

He shook his head. “No, you come with me,” he gave a coy grin, leading you to the bedroom and pressing you back against the door. He grasped your jaw, took your face in and smiled weakly before kissing you deeply. “I missed the way you taste,” he admitted, almost drunk on you. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to do this again.”

You felt your mind blank because at no time was this ever a risk for you and you didn’t know how close he was to not coming home but the more he alluded to it, it almost seemed certain that not returning was a sad affirmative. You were terrified to ask for the full story and while you knew he wasn’t at liberty to say anything, you remained passive but blood was filling your mouth as your bit your tongue. You gently pulled back to look at him and he softened a little.

“What, love?” he whispered, searching your face. When he didn’t get a response, he changed his tack and lowered his lips to your jaw, his palms gripping your hips and closing in the gap to keep you trapped. He sighed against your skin. “You smell so good, feel so soft, my sweet girl,” he pressed his muscular thigh between yours and released your hips to grasp your wrists and drag them above your head.

He was hard and craving, desperate for you and you found it hard to resist him. “Bradley, I don’t want to hurt you,” you muttered faintly, and his tongue paused tracing at your clavicle. “Come on, stop,” your palms eased against his waist, giving you some breathing room. 

“You could never hurt me,” he swore. “I know you couldn’t.”

“You’re aching, sweetheart,” you urged him softly.

“When I tell you that there is nothing that could stop this, I’m being completely honest. I need to feel at home. Let me bury myself in you, please?” he huffed against your skin, his stubble unfamiliar and rubbing against you. “Kiss me, love. Fall into this with me,” he begged, feeling the hesitation dripping from you.

“You doctor’s said bedrest, Bradley,” you said warily.

“Then take me to bed,” he turned it against you and in a simple feat of strength, he lifted you into his arms. You didn’t miss the slight grimace and it only made you feel worse.

“Bradley…”

“I got this,” he reassured you and opened the bedroom door. He needed to prove to you that it was a couple of scratches and a few bruises. No big deal. The room was exactly how he remembered it, and he was enveloped by the scent of your perfume, rooting him firmly home. He noted you’d left some clean sweats at the end of his side on your bed and his side drawn. Painkillers, a wheat bag. A glass of water waiting and a book he didn’t recognise but could faintly make out The Mamba Mentality. “You put all this together?” he asked fondly. He would never admit it, but it was such a homely welcome. His bones ached, and his head was splitting but his heart lurched, it all looked so inviting. He would be so incredibly touched you’d even consider him this way.

“Well, yeah…” you said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You ejected from a plane and I’m sure there is plenty more you have to tell me about that...” you hinted, subtle as a motherfucking sledgehammer. “I figured you might need a little TLC,” you said modestly. 

He chewed his lip to bite back his smile. “All right, you got me. Take me to bed, sweet girl,” he gently released you and you smiled, taking him by the hand towards the bed.

“Do you want to shower first?”

“Actually, yeah. I’d love a shower,” he agreed. Warm his bones, relieve his joints.

“Or think I could lure you into a nice warm bath?”

He squinted. “Would I be bathing alone? Or with the woman I love, slippery, wet and naked with me?”

You pondered it and couldn’t resist your grin. Even in a world of pain, he was trying to get close to you. “I guess I could join you. Go take a seat and let me run the bath, okay?”

“Okay, sweet girl. Come here first…” he begged to kiss you and you willingly obliged. One of those curl your toes, and turn you into a bag of bones. The ones he was really fucking good at. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bradley,” you said, a little dreamily, trying to get out of the fog of his embrace. “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

“Oh, my baby,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I scared you. I was scared too. But I’m home, and I am safe with you,” he slowly guided you back and you both eased on the bed. It didn’t go amiss the hiss he elicited when he moved to his back and tried to pull you above him.

“Bradley, you’re hurting,” you sighed as he put his index finger to his lips and blow out a gentle shh. You paused and sat beside him. “I know you’re happy to be home. Relieved, all the good things. But you need to rest, okay?” you moved to stand and went towards the bedroom. “Let me run that bath…” you told him as he begrudgingly nodded.

He was kidding himself if he thought you weren’t noticing the agony he was going through and you ran the bath, turning the water on full to drown out how he called for you to return to him in the bedroom.

Sure, he looked the same, he smelled the same, just as handsome. His beautiful face was marred with a few cuts and scratches, a small gash taped up on the side of his neck. But the doctor had made no secret bout the rib contusions. He was lucky to not have broken any bones with the blunt force traumas his body was subjected to. He would have headaches for a while and there would be physical therapy to ensure his body was in the right working order when he was able to get back in the air.

You couldn’t even fathom having him fly again, you didn’t know how you could trust yourself to get through this again. You almost lost him, and you knew you’d only just found him. You didn’t realise it, but tears were streaming down your face as Bradley made his way to the bathroom and found you.

“Love, are you okay?” he asked confused, coddling you into his arms. He held your face in his palms and kissed your forehead. “Sweet girl, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I almost lost you, Bradley,” you spat out before you could think of replying with some decorum.

“Oh, baby,” he said, frown lines melding into his skin. “I’m right here.”

“I was so scared. I have never been that scared,” you confided. “And I didn’t even have time to contemplate losing you. Because all I heard was that you were injured. But then Nat said you were alive, and in pretty good shape… all things considered.”

“Adrenaline,” Bradley admitted. “I was just glad to get back to the boat…”

“What can you tell me,” you held his face too, your fingers digging into the sharp edges of his stubble. He gazed at you, the apology in his eyes. “My brain needs to know. I can’t process this.”

“I’m sorry I did that to you,” was all he replied. 

“I’ve never been through anything like that, Bradley. And I’ve seen some shit happen in the Navy.”

“I know, love. I know,” he cooed sweetly, his lips tenderly caressing yours. “I love you, I’m sorry,” he murmured against your mouth as you watched him pull away, the water in the rub overflowing to the floor.

“Fuck,” you muttered, easing past him and turning off the tap. Bradley retrieved the towels and tossed them over the water that was now covering the tiles. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed roughly, hitching a breath. “It’s some warm water. It’s okay. Don’t you dare apologise, love.”

You put your hand into the tub, a little more water overflowing as you rocked the flow and pulled the plug, letting the hot water scald you as it escaped. You put the plug back in when it appeared just the right amount of water for him to sit in comfortably. Warm his bones, soothe his aches, anchor him home. “Let me help you,” you said quietly.

“Thank you,” he said. He’d managed to dress himself at the hospital, but he may as well get the inevitable over. He took your hands as they began to pull his tee from his sweatpants. “Love, I just want to warn you…”

“About what?” you asked.

“I’m a bit banged up. Doc reckons I’m not at my worst yet.”

“Oh,” you said, carefully easing the white cotton up over his taut belly, his robust ropes of muscle firing as you touched him, the red and blue and yellow and purple running up his chest, and his right side. Fuck, if it was expected to get worse - “Oh, Bradley,” you said softly. You’d never seen bruising like it.

“Won’t be winning any beauty pageants for the next little while,” he joked.

“Please, you’d still win, pretty boy,” you quipped back at him without hesitation as he grinned dumbly. “Can you lift your arms?”

“Yeah,” he did as he was asked and tentatively raised them. He knew you didn’t miss the shudder in his breath, and you raised the tee before you discarded it.

“Oh, Bradley,” you said again.

“Hope I’m still enough for you,” he prayed you weren’t repulsed because from what he could spot in the mirror across from him? He was.

“I could never,” your cool hands splayed across his side ribs, and it relieved him. You bobbed a little to kiss his belly. His breathing hitched as he realised you were kissing bruises.

“That makes me feel so much better, love,” he inhaled, his voice still laced with desire.

He watched your hands lace into his sweatpants, easing them off his hips skilfully. You ignored that he was half-hard but he couldn’t help it, not with the care and consideration you were showing his ravaged body. You discarded his boxer briefs and he willingly stepped out of them, desperate to feel your skin against his. He held your hips, pressing his lip to yours. “Please join me?”

You nodded, raising you ratty, overworn sweater over your head. You reckoned you’d worn it since you’d got the news about him, you couldn’t fathom the idea to shower in case the phone rang, let alone sleep.

He hummed, his warm, large palms grasping all the skin they could before he skimmed the seams of your bralette and helped you remove it. He ducked slightly to decorate your decolletage in soft kisses and affectionate nips, his strong nose following the curve of your shoulder. He tossed the bralette away and his index fingers slinked to your tights and undies, no need to games. He watched you remove them and move from his grasp towards the bath, getting in first.

He could see you didn’t trust to relax against him, but he was okay with being the little spoon. He bit his lip, watched you lower yourself into the steaming water and you gave him a light grin, reaching your hand for his.

He could have broken every rib, nay every bone in his body, but it wouldn’t stop him from joining you. He was as careful as he could be, chewing back his agony as he crouched between your legs and laid back to rest himself against you. The way your curves welcomed him, how your thighs curled around him, your breasts pressing into his back. Soft, pliable, delicate. “This tub is tiny,” he realised decisively as you laughed and although you couldn’t see it, Bradley’s eyes fluttered closed. Bliss, church bells at your giggles.

You couldn’t afford an argument. “Agreed. Do you want me out?”

“No, no. Stay close to me,” he found your wrists and laced his fingers with yours, resting against his toned stomach. “I’m not letting you go.”

You rested your lips against the nape of his neck and felt his shudder as you placed single kisses in random spots. “I didn’t have time to think I’d never see you again,” you said softly. “I’m just so glad you’re home, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I scared you…” he said lowly. He played with your fingers, thinking how nice a single band around your ring finger would look. You’d never much discussed marriage, but you both knew your relationship was heading in that direction. He hoped sooner rather than later but you both had so much life to live together, as individuals but also partners. He had too much time to think in that fucking hospital bed about his wants and needs even if he already felt like he had it all because he had you.

But there was so much more to discover with you. Living together would be one thing, but vacations, big life events, babies. He never really thought about children before you. He never really thought about having children at all. But now there didn’t seem a way for a future without you and him creating a family. He couldn’t imagine tripping over kids, maybe just one or two and maybe some space in the backyard to toss around the baseball, or watching you show your sweet baby how to swim. The thought actually made his heart burst with pride.

“Bradley…” you repeated. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard you.

“Sorry, love. What?”

“Where were you?”

He chuckled quietly. “In a galaxy far, far away.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“You know this about me though.”

“How hard you hit your head on that canopy?” you teased.

“Concussion was cleared,” he reminded you a little sternly. If it wasn’t cleared, he’d still be laying in the fucking hospital bed trying to find excuses to claw out of it.

“I said I heard your stomach growling. Were you getting hungry?” you repeated slowly, annunciating your words.

“I am a little, smart ass,” he admitted, snapping in a clipped tone as you giggled behind him. “But I don’t want to get out yet. Naked giggler behind me making me feel incredible.”

You laughed harder as he grinned wide, just like you hoped he was. “The water will be cold soon,” you reminded him.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“You’re not medically approved for anything physical,” you sang behind him.

“You seem excited by that,” he murmured.

“Not in the least,” you admitted. “I just don’t want you in any discomfort.”

“Let me be the judge, huh?” he said softly and laughed loudly as you withdrew your linked fingers and gave a thumb’s up. He cursed. “Fuck, laughing hurts…” he moaned. “Shit.”

You sighed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, love. It won’t be like this long.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of you any pain, Bradley.”

“You could never,” he reassured you. His skin exploded into goose pimples as you kissed his shoulders and traps. “God, you’re making me so hard, love,” he muttered. “These mixed messages are killing me.”

“Down, boy,” your tongue tracing the well-worked muscles. “Let me love on you a bit. I’m not trying to work you up, I’m just happy you’re home. Do you want me to stop?”

“Nooo…” he tried to contain his excitement, his cock resting back on his tummy, long, thick and wanting. Clearly, nothing physiologically wrong there, he realised, incredibly relieved. “I’m trying my damnedest not to get worked up with when the sexiest woman alive – ”

“Debatable.”

“Sexiest woman alive is workin’ me over so fuckin’ good,” his voice was sinfully low. “When she is takin’ the time to show you that you’re all that matters? There’s nothing sexier, sweet girl. You’re driving me wild,” his head lolled further back and you gently bit into the flesh of his neck. “Fuck me,” he drawled. Needing respite, he carefully reached for his cock. “I’m sorry, love. I can’t help it, you’re too good to me. I need this,” he lightly made work of the situation in hand, his cock pulsating with need as you massaged his pecs, considerate of pressure and any pain you might have caused him. You couldn’t resist watching over his shoulder as he continued pumping himself in his hands and you’d deny it to the grave, but you were awestruck at the fluid movement of his body, the way his body clenched under tension. You loved watching him touch himself and ware what made him feel good.

“You’re so sexy,” you thighs widening and pressing your core against his back. “I could never forget this…”

He whined, reaching back to kiss you roughly, pumping his hand faster and with more pressure and he shuddered in your hold. You knew he was so close to coming and within seconds, his pearly cum spurt, cascading across his chest, abs and palm with an aggrieved groan against your mouth. “Holy fuck,” he panted, dousing his hands in the water before he reached around to palm your face and kiss you deeply. He rested his forehead against yours and you knew he must have been in pure agony. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you too, Bradley,” you kissed the apples of his cheeks, his eyebrows, his chin, the bridge of his nose, and his lips again.

A few moments later, you both started to realise the water was starting to cool and you volunteered to get out of the tub first and help him from the bath without incident. He let out a litany of curses as he moved to push himself to his feet and grinned when standing. “That hurt. I’m probably not having another bath in the next while.”

“Fair,” you agreed with him, wrapping your towel around your chest and offering your hands to him. “Please be careful, Bradley.”

“My legs are strong,” he told you. “But the fuckin’ ribs, Jesus Christ.”

“How about you pound those painkillers after this, and I’ll order some food in?” you suggested as he skilfully stepped over the rim and onto the bathmat with you. You tucked the fluffy towel around his waist, water dribbling down his chest as he gave you that sweet quirk of the lips and he kissed you again, safe and secure in your arms.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[strangerqueerthings]

The Camaro

Neil was adamant: Billy had to get his own car if he wanted to go anywhere that wasn't school, and he had to pay for it himself.

Billy was equally adamant that he was going to get his hands on one.

So he worked his ass off, starting at the age of thirteen. He started small and local, mowing lawns, or offering to help elderly neighbors with grocery shopping- and bringing them in for them afterwards.

The latter got him far more pinched cheeks than he wanted, but when he laid on the charm, he was paid well.

To his delight, an elderly neighbor, Mister Grant, gifted him with a bike. His grandson never visited anymore now that he was in college, and Billy had been so helpful with the yard work, so he was happy to give it to him.

Billy kept the bike at Mister Grant's, afraid that Neil would take it away, or worse, destroy it or give it away- if Neil knew that he'd been given something like a bike, he'd accuse Billy of being weak by accepting charity.

The bike opened up entirely new venues of work, expanding his reach. More work offers, thanks to the bike, and his work ethic- which was talked about, spread by word of mouth.

All the while, he checked out car maintenance books from the library, rode his bike to the closest mechanic and volunteered to help, in exchange for the mechanics explaining what they were doing, so he could learn as much as he could about cars.

By the time he was sixteen, three years of working in the sun, doing manual labor, Billy was tanned, fit, and had plenty of money to start searching for something even better than a bike.

His first car.

Billy had never even dared to dream about getting a new car, even a relatively new used car. He'd saved up nearly 1,500 dollars, had it hidden in various places to keep it out of Neil's reach, going to the bank to swap out coins and singles for bigger bills so it'd be easier to hide.

He had finally brought the bike to the house. He told Neil he'd bought it used, to help him get more work, and Neil had almost been pleased at his work ethic- but as Billy had expected, it was taken away as punishment whenever Billy pissed him off.

He browsed the sale pages in the newspapers, kept his ear to the ground for deals, and finally, a few months after his birthday, Sid told him a cousin was selling his Camaro.

"It's kinda shitty," he drawled, exhaling clove cigarette smoke into the summer air. "He swiped a few cars and a mailbox with it, so it needs body work. He also didn't do a lot maintenance on it, and it's a 79, so... yeah. He's selling it for cheap."

"Does it run?" Billy asked. That was all that mattered, really.

"Yeah," Sid said, nodding. "It runs, it just... it's a mess. Real fixer upper."

Billy hadn't minded in the least. He'd wanted something with horsepower, something that would be loud, go fast, but he'd suspected he'd get something rusted and slow with the money he had.

"How much?"

Sid shrugged.

"I think he said 900 or so, but you know... you could probably haggle."

Billy did just that. He ignored the scratches and dents- they were all cosmetic. What he pointed out were all the mechanical issues- just like the guys at the mechanics had told him.

'College kids who have something like a Z28? They don't know shit about cars, just the model,' Bert had said, and had showed him what to look for, and told him what to say to bluff his way into a reduced price.

"I don't know," he said, putting the dusky blue car into park after a test drive. "That clunk? That's a CV joint- either I'd have to replace the boot, or the entire front axle."

He popped the hood and got out, peering into the guts of the car he already wanted more than anything in his life- save for freedom from Neil. He winced audibly, a sharp, hissing intake of air through his teeth.

"Yeah, I dunno," he said, folding his arms over his chest. "The serpentine belt is starting to look a little frayed. I'd have to replace that before disaster hit."

He pulled the dipstick out, examining it, making a show of sniffing the oil on it, and made an overly exaggerated face.

"When's the last time you changed the oil, man? It smells burnt."

Derek looked taken aback, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Honestly... idunno," he said helplessly.

Billy replaced the dipstick, closed the hood with a loud clang and dusted his hands off.

"Yeah I dunno," he repeated. "Nine hundred bucks can get me a car that isn't riddled with issues- mechanical OR body."

"It's a Z28, man," Sid's cousin said, scowling.

"Yeah, but she's nearly fifteen years old, and she's been poorly maintained- and I'm being generous," Billy retorted. "I'd be better off saving up for another three years for something better than getting this heap. It'd cost me nine hundred to fix all the shit that's wrong with her."

Derek was quiet for a bit, and Billy shrugged, moving to pick up his bike and head home.

"Eight hundred," Derek blurted.

Billy paused, making a show of consideration.

"Six hundred."

"Seven hundred."

"Six fifty, and you write the bill of sale as five hundred so I don't pay as much on the title fees."

Derek sighed, defeated.

"Done."

Derek wrote out the bill of sale, and filled out the title. They both signed where appropriate, and Derek handed the title and keys over to Billy, who fought to keep his hands from shaking as he took them.

Registering the Camaro would have to wait- he couldn't take her home as she was. He took her to the shop, where Bert congratulated him on his haggling, and enthusiastically offered to help him fix her up.

By the time October came around, Billy pulled up at home in the Camaro, and Neil came outside, clearly surprised at the car his son had managed to find.

She was perfect.

He and Bert had changed out her fluids and filters, put new tires on her, replaced her old serpentine belt, put in a whole new front axle, and had hammered out and smoothed out the dents and scratches.

She looked good as new, gleaming in the driveway.

Billy handed him the title and bill of sale, showing him how much he'd paid, and Neil had immediately held out his hand for the keys.

"You may have paid for it, but legally, you can't own it until you're 18," he said. "When you turn 18, it's all yours, provided you don't do anything stupid."

Billy's heart sank, but he knew it was going to happen. He placed the keys in Neil's open palm, watching his father's fingers curl around them.

"I'm not going to ask how you got the money for a car that looks this good."

"She didn't," Billy blurted. "I worked on her. I fixed her up. She's been at Bert's. Bert helped me learn how to work on her, so I can maintain her upkeep without using my money for someone else to do it."

Neil glanced at the Camaro again, his look appraising, critical.

"And here I was worried that you'd learned nothing."

He turned to go back into the house.

"Glad to learn I was wrong."

Billy didn't dare read too much into it, but he could have sworn there was a note of pride in Neil's voice. It made the affection he felt for his new car swell in his chest.

Neil may have taken ownership of her for now, but he hadn't been mad. He hadn't punished Billy for taking initiative.

For once, he'd done something right, and the proof of it sat on four wheels, gleaming like a beacon of freedom in the driveway.

[lieslab]

To Saturn and back

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Summary: After being brain-dead and on a ventilator for days, Hyunjin is forced to cope with the realization that you're not coming back.

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Genre: Angst with no happy ending

Word Count: 1.7K

_ _ _

“I don’t know how to let you go.” Hyunjin finally spoke up. After staying by your side for days while you remained unconscious in the hospital, the soft beeps of the heart rate monitor were the only thing keeping him company besides your steady breathing. 

The sharp smell of antiseptic filled your room. No matter how many hours he stayed by your side, he couldn’t get used to it. He watched your chest move up and down in silence. His tears stopped flowing at some point as his sorrow ebbed into a state of numbness. 

“I know it’s selfish of me to want you to stay, but you’re still warm.” His hand slipped into yours and he wrapped his fingers around the back of your palm. He used to say the two of you fit together like a perfect puzzle. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up from this nightmare.” 

“One of these times, I’ll look up and I’ll be able to see your eyes flutter open.” A broken chuckle fell from his lips. “You used to look at me with such affection. It always warmed my heart. One look from you seemed to melt my worries away.” He kept his eyes focused on your hands. 

“I’ve begged the doctors to change the outcome, but it’s always the same. Every test they run, you don’t respond, and that’s how I know you’re really gone. If you were still here, you’d try so hard to prove you were alive.” His thumb dusted against the top of yours. “I know you would if you could.” 

His words stopped for a few moments and his gaze went to your face. How cruel of the world to present you to him as a sleeping beauty. You looked like you were sleeping and showed no signs of being brain-dead. The dim lights behind your bed casted shadows on your face. He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The ventilator had been secured around your head with a plastic strap. A clear plastic tube was cautiously eased into your throat by the steady hands of a doctor. The larger tube tapered off into two smaller blue tubes. One pushed in oxygen whereas the other pulled out carbon dioxide.  

“Your family came to visit a few times. I remember how lively your family was when we visited them for the holidays. They were so upbeat and happy. Warm smiles, open arms, and tight hugs.” His heart stung at the memory. “They’re trying their best to cope.” 

“I hope wherever you are, I hope you don’t blame yourself. Nobody ever asks for these things to happen, they just do.” He shut his eyes for a moment. A soft sigh escaped his lips. “We’ve been hoping and praying that you’ll come around, but…” His voice lowered, “it’s been a few weeks now.” 

“I think it’s time we l-let,” his voice cracked, “you go.” He swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat and went on. “Your family couldn’t be here for this and I’m sorry, but they’ve known you your whole life. This is the most difficult decision they’ve ever had to make.” 

“They all said their final good-byes yesterday and I hope you heard them. They really care about you, you know? We all do.” His attention was pulled from you when there was a knock and the door opened. 

A nurse stood in bright blue scrubs. Her mouth opened to say something, but her gaze softened upon the scene before her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the doctor would like to know when you’re ready to…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. 

“Is it alright if I have a few more minutes?” 

“Of course,” she forced herself to smile. “Please take all the time you need.” She spun around and shut the door without another word. 

Hyunjin’s attention went back to you. He tried to memorize the feeling of your hand in his. This was the last time the two of you would be together. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes again. 

“I have to keep reminding myself you’re already gone. Deep down, I know you’re gone, in my heart, but my brain wants to tell me otherwise.” He reopened his eyes and pulled his hand away from yours. 

Without a word, he stood up and moved toward your hospital bed. He sat on the edge of it and grabbed your hand again, this time with both of his hands. “Your family spoke to the doctors and they’ve decided to donate some of your organs.” 

“I struggled with it, at first, because I didn’t want to imagine that, but the doctors have told us about the receivers. There’s a five year old boy who struggles with kidney failure. Your kidneys are going to him and the doctors say if everything goes right, he could have a normal life.”

A memory popped up of the two of you walking in a park. The two of you were holding hands and talking when a kid fell off the swing. You let go of Hyunjin’s hand and rushed over to console the crying child. You wiped away their tears, pulled a band-aid out of your bag, and reassured her everything would be alright as you bandaged her scraped finger. 

“And there’s a father of two children that’ll receive your liver. The doctors said he’s fighting liver cancer. I got to meet with him and talk to him. He has two cats and a goldfish,” Hyunjin chuckled. “Can you believe he has a goldfish? I’ve never met anyone with a single pet goldfish.” 

“And your heart is going to a woman around your age. She just had a baby a few weeks ago. She needs the heart, so she can raise her baby.” Tears pricked up in his eyes. “I wish it didn’t have to be yours, but you own the biggest heart I’ve ever known.” 

“You might not be alive anymore, but parts of you are going to keep on living. I think if you were able to hear that, you’d be at peace with it. You always liked helping people. You’re one of the most selfless people I know.” 

He moved forward and gently laid himself between the small opening of you and your bed. His tears blurred his vision as he glanced over at your face. He pushed a piece of your hair away from your forehead with a trembling hand. 

“I’m going to miss everything about you. The way you used to smile at me when I came home. The warmth of your body when I crawled into bed after a long day of work. The home cooked meals you used to make sometimes. All those times I annoyed you while we shopped for groceries.” He laughed at the memory. 

“I know it’s part of life and this is how it works. I have to let you go, I know you’d want me to, but I miss you so much. I don’t want to do this without you.” 

The suppressed emotions were bubbling up inside him. He was hit with a wave of anger and his voice came out a little louder. “Why can’t you just wake up? We need you here! I need you!” His ugly sobs filled the room. He rolled over and stuck his head in your chest. 

He wasn’t met by the comfort of your arms. The soft sound of your voice never appeared. You used to gently tug your fingers through his hair, but that was gone too. Your heart monitor continued to beep. Your brainwaves ceased to exist. The ventilator continued to breathe for you. 

He sobbed until his throat was raw. Snot and tears coated your hospital gown. His arms wrapped around you and he moved beneath the ventilator tube to listen to your heartbeat a final time. 

He closed his eyes and laid there for a while. The nurses must have heard his sobs from outside the room. They must have decided to let him experience this human misery in peace. His heart had cracked open like an eggshell and the only thing left behind was the runny intangible feeling of despair. 

After a while his sobs turned into quiet singing. His voice cracked and the pitch was wrong, but it didn’t matter. The never ending stream of sadness flowed out of him in the form of your favorite songs. With his ear pressed to your chest, he sang, and sang, and sang until he finally ended it with your favorite song. 

When he finished, he was left with a hollow ache in his heart. This was it, the end of everything, he was alone now. He forced himself to pull away from you. He took in your face a final time. 

The way your eyelashes brushed against the tops of your cheeks. The slope of your nose. The feathered eyebrows that you used to get mad at because you had to pluck them regularly to keep their shape. 

He leaned forward, so his face was a few inches away from yours. “Please just wait for me. Wherever you are, I’ll find you one day. If you’re not there, I’ll find you in the next life.” His bottom lip quivered, “I-I promise.” 

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the middle of your forehead. They remained there for a few seconds until he pulled away. “I love you to Saturn and back.” 

Saturn was your favorite planet. It had been your favorite planet ever since Hyunjin bought a telescope after you mentioned you liked space in a passing conversation. For your latest birthday, he bought the telescope and set it up to view the planets and stars.  

He set up a picnic for you on top of a hill. The two of you watched the sun set side by side. You fell asleep in his lap and he woke you up when it was dark enough to see the planets. After spending nearly twenty minutes searching the cloudy darkened sky, you finally found Saturn. 

It was your thing ever since that night.

I love you to Saturn and back.

Such a simple phase that held so much meaning to the two of you. That picnic was the place where Hyunjin asked you to date him. It was beneath those stars that the two of you shared your first kiss. 

He gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze before he reached over to press the call button to let the nurses know that it was time. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[anadiasmount]

someone requested i do a part two of bf! christian head cannons, so here you go! 🤭❣️

here’s part one.

masterlist

i just so know he’d find every reason to pull into bed in the morning. he’d groan and pull by the hand or waist into his embrace, where he repeatedly just kisses your head until you give up and fall asleep. “it’s cold without you baby. just stay here with me… a few more minutes…”

bf christian finding any reason to bring you back your favorite flowers and reece’s. we know he has early training so let’s say after he comes home from that or having a day out, he tells you to close your eyes as he sets the bouquet in front of you. “for the most beautiful girl in the world. i love you.”

bf christian where he begs for your attention. you could be working, reading, cooking, just sitting there watching tv, but he’s literally begging for your touch, claiming it calms him. and when you do, he’s so quick to relax and let go for you, wrapping you closer into him. “i needed this. hate when you ignore me baby…”

bf christian where he begs you to watch the rain with him. the day starts off sunny but i’m sure he’d pull the “it smells like it might rain love” and true to his word he’s right. but you can’t help it, the smell, the grey skies, the rain and thunder sounds, and most specifically how he kisses your knuckles.

christian finding any reason to visit you during work and bringing your favorite food for lunch. he’s come in on his day off or after training, with bags filled of food for both of you. spending the remainder of the day with you there. “the house is so dull and lonely without you. need to be with you at all times love.”

after sex, he’s just so cuddly and loving. taking care of you especially if he went to much. but you especially love when he draws shapes and scratches slightly on your bum. “so soft and mine… did so good for me… my good girl always…”

since christian has experience with tattoos he would persuade you to get one. a small one that means a lot. imagine if one was dedicated to him? he’d go insane, im sure if it… “baby whaaat? you did this for me?”

you surprising christian with a nipple piercing 😵‍💫😵‍💫 after being some time apart like now during pre-season, he’s undressing you and his eyes bulge at the small jewelry on your nipple. he’d be gentle and kiss around it not wanting to hurt you, all while you just grab the hairs on the back of his head, biting your lip. “this is so sexy… you have no idea y/n…” (you can ignore this if you’d like, but i saw a tiktok about it and thought of him 😂😂.)

when hanging out with his friends or yours, he’s either behind you, one hand hugging your waist or, him sitting down and your on his lap. he so clingy ik it 🫠😵‍💫

buying a polaroid camera together, and taking it everywhere you go. pictures of you two at the park, in the car, you at his games, friends and family. you just having albums and albums of pictures of every moment together 🥲🥲 “look here chris… look at your freckles baby! love them so much…”

him trying to impress you by making drinks he saw on instagram reels or tiktok, and you find it absolutely adorable at his concentrated face or him watching you taste test. his brows furrowed in, a hand under his chin.

him posting you anytime he gets the opportunity, captioning them with the cheesiest words or emojis. “my 🌎🙏… #1 since day one 🤞… look at her, isn’t she gorgeous? 😍”

him being nosy and wanting to know every move you make. “where are you going?… who are you talking with? can i go with? who texted you?” and you just being suspicious or not telling him to get him annoyed 😂😂

you hate it but secretly love it, but he tickles you whenever he has the chance. he loves hearing you let out a fit of giggles or snorts. he loves the sounds, and all he can do is laugh with you.

before he leaves for a away game, he makes sure to leave his hoodie smelling like him, because he knows how much you love his scent, and how you wear his hoodies around the house. you’d text him, thanking him for being such an amazing boyfriend, and him all shy, his teammates teasing him. “wear them please. just make sure to think of me…”

after a heated argument or fight, which rarely happen, your so quiet and ignore him, because you aren’t sure if he’s still upset or if he even wants to talk to you. crying and hiding in the guest room, attempting to distract yourself. all he can do is go crazy and tug his hair bc you aren’t speaking to him, because he’s desperate to fix things between you.

he would make it up to you though, or bise versa. but he would knock softly, hearing you shuffle around, and when he sees you wiping your tears he just holds you, his heart wrenching at your sobs and the way you hold onto him. “please tell me you forgive me? i can’t help but you not talking to me y/n… i’m sorry baby…”

him finding a funny meme or video and sending it to you. him just finding any initiative to just make you laugh or make your day better 🥲🥲

during a work event from a job, he’s just whispering how proud he is of you, and congratulating you of all your work. kissing you, despite wearing red lipstick, his hand rubbing up and down soothing your nerves before making a speech or etc. “i’m so proud of you and all your hard work baby. look how far you’ve come to today…”

christian always making you feel included and never left out. people just overall loving you and your personality, especially how you put other first before you, and how happy you make other feel. “come here baby… this is my beautiful girlfriend y/n… this is y/n my future wife…”

while doing your makeup he makes fun of you and tease you on how your positioned and sitting in front of the mirror. “aren’t you uncomfortable love? ik you’re trying to get pretty but i can get you a vanity with lights?”

refusing you to pay even for the smallest things. he loves to pay for everything but you have to convince him every now and then that a relationship goes both ways, but you appreciate it for him spoiling you 😵‍💫🫠 “no. i’m not letting you pay.” … “you payed last time christian!” … “idc. but you aren’t paying pretty girl…”

randomly giving you love letters he writes and listing the thing he loves about you. “i love the way your hair smells after the shower… i love the way you kiss me like no one is watching… i love when you randomly tell me stuff about your day… i love the way you love me…”

him and you sharing a shared playlist, but you being picky sometimes at his country music since you don’t really like it. but knowing christian he’d force you to listen to them to have a laugh. “oh cmon… it’s not that bad, just listen to the lyrics.”

[brights-place]

Barb dating an Circus impalement artist S/O

Pairings: Barb X Reader

Warnings: Impalement art, Throwing blade weaponary, fluff

A/N: Random Thought about barb dating one of them! I'm so tired and I did this on the plane! also Impalement Artists are people who throw blades! :))

- You were an impalement artist and were quite knock from trolls across trolldom for your accuracy in Impalement arts which is the arts of performing in which a performer plays the role of human target for a fellow performer who demonstrates accuracy skills in disciplines such as knife throwing and archery but you mainly did it with blades

- You currently held an show for the rock trolls with your assistant as you smiled to the crowd before you started to throw knives towards your assistant outlining your assistants figure on the wheel before bowing to the crowd

- Barb stood at the crowd front row staring at you in awe how you shined under the light while your throwing knives glistened as you did tricks

- Barb couldn't take her eyes off void as she and king thrash went up to void once void was done doing tricks they went backstage with barb grinning happily

- She was in awe when she came backstage to see you just juggling knives with your fellow circus crew enjoying it adding more sharp weapons and items

- you soon stopped bowing as the clowns soon got on stage as you smirked before your eyes darted to barb who grinned walking over "Dude your badass!"

- You couldn't help but blush and look away as you smile "Really?" she nodded her head and did the rock n roll sign "Its awesome you should do it more at our place us rock trolls would love it! it fits our vibe you know man?"

- You nodded "Sure... I'll see if the circus can come around more here but we mostly go to pop village" Barb nodded as she gave an thumbs up

- Your circus kept visiting Rock village so barb would always come by to say hello to you when she sees the posters around she'd run over to you

- Other rock trolls have been noticing how their queen would go over to the implament artist whenever the circus came around.

- You two soon became close when she kept visiting and would talk to you before, and after the show

- She soon started to gain feelings when she saw you wink and make flirt gestures towards her when your on stage an she wouldn't help but chuckle

- You two soon started dating after awhile and it's nice and fun when you two are together she sometimes grabs you by the waist before or after your show kissing you deeply -After dating for a while and spending more and more time with you Barb notices how much of a dedicated and hard-working person you were to your work and you would stay up and work harded to make it accurate while she checks her guitar tuning it - Barb loves to admire their work ethic and commitment to making others happy while putting their own needs to the side yes she worries but she can't help but find your focused expressions adorable. - Barb feels proud to be part of such an amazing person's life and the love between you two just keeps growing as you chucked an Axe towards an target hitting it straight in the middle as Riff claps his hand while Barb would cheer loudly - She helps you sharpen your blades and sometimes would make sure to stare at you while she watches your arms move back and fourth sharpening your blades as she literally just chucks the blade away and sits on your lap while you chuckle since it was the second time this had happened this week

-There are very few stunts a knife thrower can undertake that tests the skill and fortitude more than throwing knives around their lovely assistant, tied to The Wheel of Death, at less than 1 second per throw. Having been in that position and barb asked to do it with you for fun - You were worried since you didn't want to cause her to be in that situation I mean you were always accurate with your throws and with everything but doing it as your girlfriend as the assistant made you worried and feel overwhelmed abit - the impalement artists that have stood before that whirling wheel and mustered the strength to throw that 'FIRST knife' as well as the lovely assistants who so faithfully put their fate in the hands of such throwers... so thats why you were worried

- She makes sure your alright right after and tell you that you did amazing and you couldn't help but hug her tightly peppering her face with kisses

- When you practice your act you have gotten a couple injuries including nicks, cuts, bruises, and scraps. -she notices how much pain you are in from your work but instead of worrying she thinks it's impressive how you put yourself through the pain because you know that the people watching you expect nothing but perfection yet she still worries takes your hands and bandages you up - Barb has seen you push yourself so hard that you would be bleeding or exhausted after your act and when you're in such a state. - Barb can't help but feel moved by how hard you push yourself for others sake and whenever you try to hide your injuries from barb she knows but she never tells you just kisses your injuries as barb makes sure you aren't bleeding anymore and she takes care of you

- You're not sure if it's in your head or not but you sometimes feel barbs eyes on you while you practice - It's a pleasant feeling to know how much she cares and admires you smirking as you giggle putting the blade aside thinking it was enough for now and you should pay attention and hold your loving girlfriend

- I just gave up i'm so tired i'm sorry lovelies I know I said I wouldn't write and focus on my grandma but like writing comforts me

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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