#i also feel its worth noting that apparently since they caught me in the hallway they assumed i hadn't been doing anything

[wellthatschaotic]

neurotypicals are so frustrating,, i keep forgetting that "can you do x" means "go do x"

[dropssofjupitter]

Of Pride and Promises - P. 2

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Summary: It has been a mere three weeks since your breakup with Draco Malfoy. Though your feelings haven’t changed, circumstances have. 

Word Count: 2.1 k 

Warnings: Angst-ish(?), swearing, sectumsempra, fist-fights, blood (minor?), aftermath of a breakup 

Requested? - Yes

Masterlist          Part One

A/N: For the lovely nonnie that requested it! I hope you like it! (I’m not exactly happy with it but hey, something is something!) [This work has not been beta read. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone] 

Edit:  I would also like to announce that I am looking for one, possibly two, beta readers! If you are interested please let me know!

Loving Draco Malfoy was like wading through quicksand. The more you resisted, the stronger the pull. Until eventually, you were pulled under. 

That’s what it had been like for you. That’s what it had felt like. You were suffocated and sedated until you couldn’t think straight, until you couldn’t see straight. Your hands were no longer your own, your magic was merely an extension of his. Everything that you owned, was his to use. 

Until you broke free. And then suddenly you could breathe. You felt lighter, you felt happier. You felt like you were more. But every time you saw him in the halls, every time you passed him in the Great hall, every time you so much as glanced in his direction, an intense wave of hurt and pain swept through you. 

And Draco only seemed to be getting worse. Dark circles clung to his eyes like forgotten friends, his cheeks had sunken in, and his skin was a brand new shade of waxy white. He looked sickly, often reminding you of the Victorian children that haunted the paintings in the Slytherin common room. You were no fool. You knew that although the breakup may have been hard on him, it was nowhere near the severity of whatever threatened him now. 

“Merlin, is that Katie Bell?” Pansy whispered to you, her chin propped up on her hands as she shamelessly stared at the girl who had just entered the Great Hall. “She looks like shite,” she said with a laugh, dragging her gaze back towards you. 

“Yeah Pans,” you replied, stabbing your fork into one of the many potatoes that lay on your plate. “Being cursed will do that to you.” 

The girl groaned, paying no mind to your snarky comment as she sat back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “And there goes Saint Potter, probably trying to be first in line to the pity parade and get all the sympathy points.” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, chancing a look over your shoulder at the scene unraveling in the middle of the Hall. You had to hand it to Pansy, she had nailed Katie’s description perfectly. The girl looked almost as haggard as Draco did. 

You watched uninterested as Harry no doubt grilled the poor girl about the happenings of her curse, your hand perched under your chin. You were about to turn back to your food and to Pansy, who had not stopped talking to you apparently, when your eyes caught on Draco’s form. 

He seemed frozen in place at the entrance to the Hall, unmoving as he looked at Harry and Katie in what appeared to be mute horror. He locked eyes with Potter and turned around, quickly making his way out of the Hall and down an unknown corridor. Harry soon followed him, and it was pure instinct that drove you to stand up from the table and follow after the two boys, much to Pansy’s dismay. Something else was happening here, and whether it had to do with Draco’s distance before your break up or not, you were going to find out just what the hell it was. 

Chasing after Harry, you frantically tried to match his pace, running into students and Professors alike as you turned corners and skidded down hallways. It was a miracle that you hadn’t run into a wall yet, truly. You watched as he disappeared from view, ducking into the usually haunted girls bathroom. With a frown etched into your face and nary a thought to the consequences, you followed him. 

Curses being flung across the bathroom at lightning speed met you on the other side of the door, and you had to duck almost immediately to avoid being hit. You lay flat on the ground, mumbling things like “What the bloody hell could have set them off in three minutes?!” as you fumbled for your wand with one hand and protected your head from shattered stalls with the other. 

You crawled forward as soon as your wand was in your grasp, dragging yourself through the wrecked toilet stalls and avoiding most of the spells being hurled across the room as you prepared yourself to intervene. You moved into a crouch, murmuring a quick shielding charm before walking through the door half torn off its hinges and into the middle of their duel. 

“Wands down -” You were barely able to get a sentence out before you had to dodge a curse sent by Potter himself, drawing your arms into your body as you heard him yell “Sectumsempra!”

Draco was flung across the room, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Both you and Harry looked over at him, pausing your actions as you realized that he wasn’t moving. “Draco?” you called out anxiously, taking a step closer to him. That was when you saw the blood blooming on his shirt and bleeding into the water. “Merlin,” you muttered to yourself, wasting no time in rushing over to his body, hands shaking as you tried to remember the proper healing spells. 

“What the hell did you do to him, Potter?!” you yelled, looking over at Harry quickly before looking back at Draco. Dozens of cuts had opened up on his body, continuously bleeding and showing absolutely no signs of stopping. “Shit shit shit shit.” You hated to admit it but you still loved him. You still loved how it had been when you were with him. And you were so, so scared that you would lose him like this. So suddenly. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, Professor Snape appeared out of nowhere, quickly rushing to Draco’s side and sending a long, slow look at Harry. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, rushed as you stared down at Draco. “They won’t stop bleeding. He won’t wake up.” The professor placed a seemingly comforting hand on your shoulder before wordlessly beginning to move his wand over Draco’s body, murmuring a spell underneath his breath so quietly that you couldn’t catch what he was saying. You didn’t care. The blood that had previously been pouring out of Draco’s body was returning to it, and the wounds were sealing. 

Footsteps sounded behind you, and you realized that Harry was running away. You shouldn’t chase after him. Not when you were no longer with Draco. And certainly not with a Professor standing right next to you. But all rational thought had left your mind, and all you could think about was making Harry pay. So you stood, and you ran. 

If you thought that Harry was fast before, he was even quicker now, running as if he knew he was being pursued. And maybe he did. But that just made it more satisfying for you as you ran him down, slowly but surely beginning to catch up with him until you hit him with a stunning hex and sent him careening to the ground. 

“What the fuck was that Potter! What, do you preach the absence of curses until it’s convenient for you like a fucking hypocrite?”

Students and staff alike were turning to watch the exchange, gathering nearer as they sensed a fight. It was likely that you didn’t have much time before you were stopped so you decided to make it count. The stinging hex was wearing off by now, you knew it would be. So you kicked his wand away before pocketing yours. If they wanted a fight they would get one. 

Harry turned to look at you, quickly standing up and getting to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The way he turned up his nose and squared his shoulders told you that he was trying to appear confident. The sweat on his brow and the shiftiness of his eyes also told you that he was epically failing. 

“Is that really how you want to play this Potter?” you asked, danger creeping into your voice as you squared off with the boy wonder. 

“Well it’s how your boyfriend wanted to play when he threw a hex at me,” he retorted, taking a step closer to you in a challenge. 

You barely had time to think before you were punching the Chosen One. Punching him poorly, might you add. You were pretty sure that you heard a faint crack from your thumb. But the blood that had begun to spurt from his nose made your minor injury all worth it. 

Harry cried out, falling back and to the floor as he immediately held one hand up to his nose. He looked at you in surprise, and it only took a few short seconds before a teacher was calling out your name and dragging you up towards Dumbledore’s office. 

You passed Snape on the way up, making eye contact as you noted the unconscious Draco in his arms. You nodded once, more towards yourself than towards him, before turning your gaze back to the professor currently lecturing you on the do’s and don'ts of fights at school. You tuned them out and every interaction after. 

~~~~~~~

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity that the tables had been turned on you. Yet again. Instead of you waiting in the dark to confront Draco, he had waited for you. You had known he was there as soon as you had closed the portrait, your eyes catching on his barely illuminated form as he sat in front of the fireplace. 

“I suppose I should ask you why you aren’t asleep yet.” You threw his words back in his face as you walked over to the couches, deciding to not even try and avoid him. Your arms were crossed protectively in front of your chest, a poor attempt to try and prevent what was probably about to come. 

Draco raised his hands under his chin, propping it up in a habit that he had learned from you long ago. “Why were you there,” he asked slowly, still not turning his head to look at you. It annoyed you, but you would let him have this for now. 

“I was tired of being lied to.” It was the truth, and that was more than he deserved. 

He clenched his jaw and turned to face you, his eyes narrowed. “You could have died. Didn’t you stop to think about that at all?” 

You sat down in the arm chair to his left, arms and now legs crossed in defiance. “I didn’t think that I would be barging in on a duel. It’s not my fault that you and Potter couldn’t keep it in your pants.” 

“This isn’t a joke!” His voice echoed across the common room and you froze. His gaze was level with yours, eyes glaring at you and hands clenched into fists. “You could have died!” 

“You could have too!” 

“That’s different!” 

“How? How is it different Draco.” At some point you had stood up again, a finger pointed in his face in your anger. The sheer familiarity of the situation was hitting. The two of you had been in these kinds of arguments many times before. “See this self-sacrificing bullshit is why we broke up. Because you couldn’t realize that your life was worth just as much as mine!” 

“No, we broke up because you got scared,” he retorted, standing up and matching your stance. “You got scared that I was actually being self-sufficient for once and you couldn’t handle not being in control!” 

You knew he was deflecting. You knew that the two of you were both lashing out, emotions high from the day that you had, but still you recoiled slightly. “Is that really what you think?” 

He just stared at you, stubborn ignorance formed in every fraction of his being. 

You swallowed thickly, straightening your clothes and taking a step back from him. “Alright then. Gad we cleared that up.” You turned around and took but two steps before you moved to face him again. “And for the record? I was scared. But I was scared that you were recklessly risking your own life because you couldn’t handle even the slightest threat to mine. Not because I wasn’t in control.” You paused, clenching your jaw as you searched his face for any type of reaction. There was none. “I guess today just proved that breaking up had been the right thing to do. Goodnight Malfoy.” 

You didn’t stop walking until you made it to your room with the door closed securely behind you. Letting out a breath, you allowed your body to sag against the door. You weren’t even sure if you could call that conversation closure. It felt more like another couples spat if you were honest, but you had meant your words. 

From now on, you didn’t care what Draco did. You didn’t care if he was sneaking around at odd hours of the night, or looking positively zombie-like. He wasn’t your problem anymore, so you were going to stop making him one. You were done with him. For good. 

.

.

Taglist: 

@hydrasbitches   @tayyymeek​   

Add yourself to my taglist

[shinsouskitten]

bakugou , deku , todoroki , dabi reactions to a conversation ur having with a friend talking about how much you like / admire them ,,, idk that makes any sense but feel free to change anything !! ly♥️

To the anon that sent in the spam ily! I won’t be doing them in the order you sent them, sorry if that’s an issue, but I just felt like writing some of them sooner than others

Yo this is such a cute idea tho 🥺 I usually just put in a cut for nsfw stuff, but I decided to for this post cause it was getting a little long (like Dabi... I’m not sorry)

I legit can’t remember writing half of this. I loaded up my document the next day and apparently I’d written half of this at 3am with no memory of it. Not the first time that’s happened, but it’s always fun

For Bakugou, Deku, and Todoroki, the reader is in 1A with them. For Dabi, the reader is an associate of the League if that makes sense? I hope this is okay!

Warnings: Dabi’s got a tad suggestive, but other than that I don’t think so?

---

💥 Katsuki Bakugou:

You sat on your bed, legs crossed beneath you as you stared at your computer on your bed, unbeknownst to the two boys walking past your dorm room. Your friend’s face shone into the room, illuminating the darkness with blue light. 

“He’s just so cool!” Your voice echoed out into the hallway.

Bakugou froze. Who were you talking about? He had half a mind to barge in and find out immediately, but the rational part of him (however small it is) convinced him to stay where he was. He waved for Kirishima to keep walking, and the red haired boy sent a wink towards Bakugou as he disappeared down the hall.

Hesitantly, Bakugou leant against the wall just close enough to hear through the crack of the open door, but far away enough that he could make a quick getaway if it opened. He could see a slither of light through the crack, and without the sound of another voice realized you must have been on the phone.

“No I haven’t told him that.” He could hear the roll of your eyes as you spoke. “He doesn’t like me anyway. At least not like that.”

Now Bakugou was annoyed. Who didn’t like you? Whoever it was had better hope they weren’t paired with him next for training. He stepped closer, hand reaching for the door, until he heard you speak again.

“Of course he wouldn’t like me, f/n, I don’t really think I’m Bakugou’s type.”

His eyes widened as he heard his name, his hand freezing inches from the door handle.

“Like yeah, he’s a little aggressive and shouty sometimes, but I really like him. I tried to talk to Kiri about it, you know, cause they’re besties or whatever, but he just told me to talk to Bakugou myself.”

So… you liked him? Suffice to say he wasn’t sure how to react immediately. Bakugou wasn’t the best with feelings. Sure, he thought you were okay. He felt a strange protectiveness when you were around, but he had never really thought much of it. Not until he heard with his own two ears that you liked him. Did he like you? Is that what it was?

“Fine, I’ll talk to him tomorrow. You happy now?”

Tomorrow? That was too soon. 

“No I won’t chicken out!” 

You probably would.

“No, I'm not asking Kiri to film it! Isn’t my word enough?”

Not really.

“I said I’ll do it!”

Would you though?

“Okay that’s it, I’m talking to him tomorrow. Good night.”

As you ended the call, you placed your phone on your bed, walking to your door to pull it shut. 

Bakugou held his breath as you gripped the door handle. If you saw him now that would ruin everything. As the door clicked shut he let out a sigh. 

Fine, you were going to talk to him tomorrow? He’d be ready for you. 

---

A/n This is my first time writing for the broccoli boi so I hope it’s not too ooc

🥦 Izuku Mydoria (Deku):

He hadn’t meant to snoop. Really - he hadn’t. He had just been on a walk when he saw you chatting away with a friend he didn’t recognize. He wasn’t trying to follow you, but you were walking the same way he was. He didn’t want to interrupt your conversation, so he was simply waiting until you stopped, then he could say hi. It wasn’t weird, was it? It-

“I swear if you say one more thing about how cool you think he is I’m going to leave.” Your friend laughed, nudging you in the side with their elbow.

Deku stopped. Who did you think was cool? Must have been someone special to you if you were talking about them that much. He frowned. He’d had a crush on you since he first met you, but he had no idea what to do about it. He couldn’t flirt very well, and whenever you were around him he just froze. If you liked someone else, maybe it was time for him to give up.

“But he is!” You retorted with a pout. “Why can’t I talk about him?”

“You’d be better talking to him.” Your friend replied.

“He always runs away from me.” You frowned. “I don’t think he likes me.”

As your voice began to fade, Deku realized you were getting too far away to hear you properly. He stumbled to keep up with you, not caring if you noticed him anymore. He had to find out who you were talking about, even if you caught him for doing so. It would be worth it.

“Maybe he runs away because he likes you.” Your friend suggested.

You frowned. “What?”

They stopped, turning to face you. “Why do you like him?”

“I…” You sighed, closing your eyes as you thought. “I just do. He’s heroic you know, which seems silly to say when we’re all training to be heroes, but it’s still true. He’s sweet and kind, and the way he takes notes on everyone is really cute.”

Hold up... were you talking… about him? To his knowledge, no one else from his class actively took notes on the others, except for him. Unless it was someone outside of UA. But you’d never mentioned anyone before. So… could it be him?

Your friend smiled, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you towards an arcade. The amount of people would make it impossible for Deku to keep following- uh I mean, just normally walking through town. For now he’d have to give up on finding out who you were talking about.

As he turned to leave, he saw your friend lift their head over their shoulder, and the two of them locked eyes. They sent him a wink, then continued to pull you through the crowd of people, where you disappeared from sight.

Maybe you were talking about him. His cheeks flushed pink, and he made a mental note to find your friend and ask them what the wink really meant. If he couldn’t talk to you, he’d find out another way. 

--- 

❄️🔥 Shōto Todoroki:

He was making his way to the common room for a glass of water. He didn’t expect anyone else to be awake in the dead of night, so when he saw you sitting on the sofa with your phone pressed against your ear he thought sometime must have been wrong. He was about to call out to you, but he stopped when he heard your voice.

“I’m not gonna ask him to tutor me, you idiot.”

Todoroki stopped. Should he tell you he was here? He didn’t want to interrupt your conversation, but he also didn’t want to make you feel anxious about him listening in. He frowned. A tutor? You weren’t exactly struggling in class, in fact you were one of the best, so why would you need a tutor?

“Why not? It’s an excuse to talk to him.” Your friend's voice replied, barely loud enough for Todoroki to hear.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t wanna lie just to talk to him.”

“But you want to talk to him.” 

“Well yeah, but… I don’t know. He’s just so… cool, no pun intended.” You let out a soft laugh. “He’s smart and amazing and powerful. Plus he’s also pretty cute.”

“Then tell him that.”

You sighed. “Maybe I should.” Your head fell back against the sofa, and Todoroki froze, worried that you might see him. 

He didn’t want to seem like he was listening to your conversation, even if he technically was. It wasn’t his intention, it just kind of happened. He was curious though. Who were you talking about? clueless bby I love him

“Also, did you really just call me at 2am to talk about your giant crush on Todoroki?”

Wait… you had a crush? On him? 

“Maybe.”

“Go to sleep, idiot.”

“I-” You stopped, pulling the phone from your ear to stare at the screen. “They hung up on me! Rude.”

You stood up with a stretch, turning to leave, when you saw Todoroki standing a few metres from you. Your eyes widened as you gripped your phone tightly.

“Oh, Todoroki.” You said, attempting to seem calm and praying that he hadn’t heard your conversation. “Have you been there long?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know what else to do. It technically wasn’t a lie, he couldn’t have been standing there for more than a few minutes. 

“That’s good then.” You let out a sigh of relief. “I mean, not that anything was going on anyway. You know what? I’m just gonna go.”

You walked closer, heart pounding in your chest as you slipped past him in a hurried rush to get back to your dorm room and hide under your blankets for the foreseeable future.

After you had gone Todoroki still didn’t move. He turned around just in time to see your figure disappear into the darkness of the hallway, his bi colored eyes glued to the area you had previously been. 

He’d have to figure it out tomorrow though, he was still thirsty in more ways than one. When he returned to his room, glass of water in hand, he took a seat on his bed, the image of your retreating form engraved in his mind. A small smile pushed its way onto his face. Maybe he did like you. 

---

A/n Why does it always end up sexy with Dabi? He’s either a full-fledged panty dropper or an awkward bitch who has no idea what the word ‘flirt’ is and I can never decide which one I prefer

💙🔥 Dabi:

You didn’t notice him as you walked in your room, phone held up to your cheek as you flopped back onto your bed. Your voice filled the small space, laughter light and gleeful as you spoke with your friend.

Dabi smirked. This was going to be fun. He had the perfect opportunity to scare you, hidden in the dark corner of your room, but he halted when he heard your next words.

“It’s not a crush, f/n.” You rolled your eyes. “Dabi’s just… special to me.”

“Have you told him that?” Your friend's voice filtered through the phone, and you let out a snort.

“Of course I haven’t.” You sighed. “I don’t wanna ruin what we’ve already got.”

“So you just want him to keep ignoring you.”

“He doesn’t ignore me.” You glared, even knowing your friend couldn’t see your expression. “He just speaks… sparingly.”

As a low chuckled flooded your ears you jumped, phone falling to the floor as you spun to see Dabi leaning in the corner of your room, his arms crossed over his chest.

“So, you got a crush on me, doll?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

You stared blankly at Dabi, unsure what to do, until he strolled forward, picking up your phone and bringing it to his ear. 

“She’ll call you back.” He said, his turquoise eyes never leaving yours. “Looks like we’re gonna have a bit of fun.”

“Wait are you Da-?”

With a click he ended the call, tossing your phone to the edge of the bed as he moved to stand in front of you. He lifted one hand to hold your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leant down.

“Should’ve told me sooner.” He whispered, his breath dancing across your neck as a shiver ran down your spine. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

Before you could ask exactly what he meant, a warm hand landed on your thigh, slowly creeping higher up your leg.

“I was in the neighbourhood.” He continued, pressing small kisses across your collarbone as the hand on your chin moved to cup your head. “Imagine my surprise when I heard you professing your love for me.”

“I wasn’t-”

He silenced you with his lips, and your hands moved to hold him closer, wanting to feel as much as his warmth as you could. As he pulled away you whined, but his lips on your neck silenced you once more.

“Maybe I have a little crush on you too.” He drawled. “You still wanna pretend you're not hopelessly in love with me?”

Your words failed you as you melted into his arms. There was no point in denying it. And hell, you’d dreamt about this hundreds of times before. You weren’t going to let anything get in the way of fulfilling your fantasy. You could argue about the little details after. For now, you just wanted to enjoy Dabi.

And enjoy him you did.

omfg I suck at writing sexyness I’m sorry

[jngles]

Thoughts You Definitely All Asked For on ‘The Mandalorian’ Season 2 Finale!!

These are in chronological order for the show.

One of my biggest fears about them reintroducing Boba Fett was that by removing some of his mystery, they would make him less cool. Thank god that has not been the case. He’s still an aloof and nasty piece of work but with dimensions added.

We all know the Empire is most often a metaphor for America right? At least when it’s not being Nazi Germany? The Imperial pilot talking about destroying an entire planet (of peaceful weaponless civilians no less) to stop terrorism hits a little too close to home of the nuclear bombs the US has dropped and the endless destruction of the Middle East in the “war against terror.” And of course we frame all our wars in similar language like “our troops died to keep our country safe,” which hasn’t really been true since WWII.

I do think it’s worth noting that this is the first time SW has had someone acknowledge the human losses of the Death Star blasts. Usually it’s framed as a loss in construction time, strategical advantage, and power. The Empire proved time and time again that the lives of its soldiers were utterly expendable, which always made me question why people remained loyal outside of fear. Through this pilot’s phrasing, you can see the propaganda Imperial superiors used to twist the truth to their followers, always blaming those deaths on Rebel aggression instead of prideful Imperial neglect (I.e. not abandoning ship when there was still time) or even direct Imperial aggression like Operation Cinder where they fired on thousands of their own (discussed in S2E7.)

You can’t tell me Din wasn’t into it when Cara shot that asshole pilot. That cold faced revenge shot? 100% Mandalorian style, and also very very hot.

I appreciate that it was a pretty equal match between Boba and Koska Reeves. So much of Boba’s advantage comes from his suit, but since she also has one, it’s a battle of wits on how to use it, and they even out. This both maintains his legendary badassery and also that of highly trained Mandalorian warriors, and hopefully avoids asshole chauvinist SW fans on the internet complaining abujt “pandering to feminism” (fuck off @ all of them, especially since Mercedes Vernado who plays Reeves is a WWE champ and could kick all of your asses.)

Din point blank asked how many Death Troopers there are and Dr. Pershing never answered, and that annoys me.

Why is no one suspicious why Dr. Pershing is being so helpful and revealing so much information? He totally did not have to tell them about the Dark Troopers or any of the specifics of locations on the ship. He’s still with the empire post-fall, implying he’s a loyalist, so... wtf on his part (since no tricks come of it), and “be smarter” on the part of everyone else. Unless he’s been captive as a clone engineer all this time. But couldn’t he have made his escape back in Season 1 when Din killed everyone at that lab to get the kid back?

Bo Katan really could’ve just told them how the retrieval of the dark saber needs to work in the flight before the mission instead of being vague about “he belongs to me.”

Boba Fett’s usage of “Princess” and “don’t worry about me” are a good throwback to Han Solo and the culture they both grew up in. You can never quite tell if it’s based in misogyny or resentment for upper classes, but both of them seem to use it as a shield for begrudging respect they hold for a woman they think is brave but following a fool’s errand (the Rebellion and retaking Mandalore).

The Comms Officer (Katy O’Brian) assisting Moff Gideon will forever and always look like Ilana Glazer to me, and then I get swept up imagining what would happen if the Broad City cast accidentally got transported to Star Wars.

The launch tube sequence has some amazing cinematography.

The second I saw Boba was cut off from the pack, I really thought they were going to kill him again and make his return bittersweet. Glad they didn’t.

God this team of Bo Katan, Koska Reeves, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune is SO BADASS. I’m just obsessed with all these characters and their various motivations to get shit done. I honestly didn’t even think about the fact it’s all women until my re-watch, showing that the writers made it feel natural, the way women deserve to have their representation done. You can bet I am SO EXCITED for my future daughter and the wealth of possibilities she’s going to have of characters to play pretend as, action figures she can relate to, Halloween costumes to wear, etc. It’s so validating that we’ve gone from only Princess Leia as a female main character to all these women + Rey, Jyn Erso, Ahsoka, etc. etc.

Can’t wait for the trap remix of the Dark Trooper activation noises. (And the transition from that to the minimalist flute theme is perfect.)

The spy movie version of the main theme music is sick.

The Dark Trooper droid faces have a lot of similarity to Darth Vader’s mask. That callback is especially apparent when the one is literally lit from the inside with fire. He was already a martyr/legend to the Imperial remnants, Kylo Ren didn’t start the trend of ignoring his redemption.

Cara’s “excuse me” right before shooting up Stormtroopers is hilarious. Literally “can’t talk rn, doing hot girl shit and murdering space Nazis.”

Finally an Imperial ship got some frickin security cameras. Truly- the amount of times people just wander down hallways they’re not supposed to be in with no one being able to find them throughout the course of Star Wars is ridiculous when you think about the degree of surveillance our real life society carries out. I also love that this means The Mandalorian characters have also seen The Mandalorian.

The storytelling does such a service to Pedro Pascal and his already heroic efforts to portray emotion through a helmet. For example: Din easily could’ve killed the one stormtrooper outside Grogu’s cell much more efficiently, but instead, to show his absolute rage, they wrote in Din choking him out with a spear.

Moff Gideon would have been the BIGGEST pain in the ass in philosophy class. “Assume I know everything” my ass. I want to hear about his backstory (he would’ve been “coming of age” at the time of the Clone Wars) mostly just to hear about him getting bullied at school.

Smart move honestly, to try to tempt Din with the Mandalorian throne, given the Mandalorian power struggles of the past. Proud of our boy for keeping his priorities straight.

So has the blood from Grogu been transferred out of the ship and back to the remnant empire already, or do they have to find a new “donor” to help with building Snoke and Palpatine’s clones? Will they continue to go after him with Luke?

Lmao Din being so annoyed by Bo Katan being stringent about the tradition of winning the Dark Saber through combat is HILARIOUS, coming from a man who up until like a day ago hadn’t shown his face to a living being in decades.

The dark troopers can punch in blast doors but NOT Din’s helmet?? That’s a wild testament to beskar. Somehow that’s the comparison that sticks out to me, more even than its resistance to lightsabers.

This show works because of the cynicism of so many characters adding contrast to the moments of heart. Cara Dune is not a “fan” the way Rey was (for the record I love Rey, don’t come at her, it’s just different). Cara doesn’t see an X-Wing and go OMG THE REBELLION I LOVE THEM. She’s been through too much to believe in the magic saviourism of the “good guys,” and is instead thinking strategically when she, the one Rebel present, brushes off the usefulness of “one X-Wing.” The only positive things she seems to feel in battle situations are moments of relief and brief satisfaction in hurting the empire, with a dark knowledge that it will never make up for the hurt they did to her.

How do you keep a cloak hood on while fighting? Both from a technical standpoint (my hats fall off without me even having to move- is he expending force energy just to keep it on and look cool lol?) and also because idk, maybe it’s just me, but peripheral vision is helpful when surrounded by killer robots on a thin bridge above oblivion. I know his first lesson was to “see” through the force, but every resource helps, right?

Now that she has the ship, I wonder if Bo Katan can reprogram any salvageable Dark Troopers to help with retaking Mandalore?

There is nothing like seeing Luke’s fighting style, with its efficient choppiness and twinge of darkness. I always wonder how much is natural and how much is influenced by his first fights with Vader (that Skywalker diva flair). I love how they’ve advanced his technique but also kept him extremely “grey” here- like to straight up COMBUST a Dark Trooper takes some violent energy lol.

How tf is Moff Gideon alive after threatening Grogu’s life twice directly? That’s a wild testament to Din’s regard for Cara.

I love how seeing Luke slice through a bunch of murder droids like butter probably was a huge point in his favor for Din actually letting Grogu go with him. Like he will only send his child to boarding preschool if he knows the teacher will be a certified killing machine.

Oh my god they finally brought in some OG Star Wars theme music for Luke to take his hood off to 😭 It felt weird seeing him fight to different music, so the emotional payoff is huge when his themes come back for the face reveal.

Whoever added the digital young Mark Hamill face NAILED those classic shining Luke eyes and the earnest eyebrow lift.

Whoever shines the glass of Baby Yoda’s lil puppet eyeballs each day deserves a raise. The light caught in those babies is devastating.

Din is shaking as he takes off his helmet. This is the most enormous show of love he could give him, and possibly the last he’ll be able to for a long time. He only just got Grogu back and is desperate for a moment of real connection before letting him go once again.

This is the first time anyone has touched Din’s face since... likely his parents as a child.

Whoever wrote this scene clearly actually has kids. Anyone who’s ever had to leave a young child even just to go out for a bit or to drop them off somewhere knows that heartbreak of seeing them look in your eyes and hold on to your leg, trying to keep you with them. Especially when they can sense your mutual separation anxiety. The one thing that starts to make them feel better is something fun like a new toy or friend who can be their guide in the new environment, and R2’s friendly introduction is exactly that (since digital Luke isn’t being particularly emotive or child friendly... I hope that’s just because he’s reaching into Grogu’s mind while also keeping an eye on the multiple people with guns trained on him, not because he’s going to be totally unfeeling raising this kid.)

I love that Grogu and R2 are immediately buddies in contrast to Episode 5 when R2 was like “fuck this guy” @ Yoda stealing food and hitting him with a walking stick lol. I would imagine Luke must be reminded of that first introduction too and entertained by this display of playfulness in a *positive* light between R2 and mini-Yoda.

I need to know if Luke and Ahsoka have met- it is KILLING ME.

Does this mean Grogu will get killed by Kylo Ren when he fucks up Luke’s academy??? I will reincarnate Ben just to kill him again if that’s the case.

How does Luke not even fully SMILE at Grogu?? An adorable little baby version of his beloved master Yoda, and you’re telling me he doesn’t have the same heart stopping gasp we all did when we first saw him?? Maybe he did when they first connected through the force. He has a bit of bemusement on his face, and also wonder in his eyes, but I want a grin of recognition and welcome, dammit.

I really wish Luke had somehow acknowledged Cara Dune. Everyone else seems to see the tear drop Rebel sign and know it means Alderaan. He could’ve been like yo I have a badass warrior sister from your planet that you should meet. Or just “thank you for your service.” (I know this actually wouldn’t have been cinematically good but my heart wants it.)

Luke didn’t tell Din his name?? Or ask for any details about the kid and his care?? I could literally never let my kid go with someone, regardless of how worthy, and not be like, “Excuse me sir who are you and where tf are you taking my tiny beloved green goblin in case I need to find him? Here is my contact info. He likes to eat frogs and eggs, and he can have macarons as a treat. He’s 50 years old and his favorite toy is still a ball. Bedtime is 8pm and he’s allergic to dairy.”

Another reason I wish Luke had identified himself would be to see the mishmash of reactions that would ensue. Cara would be like DAMN IT’S THAT GUY WHO BLEW UP THE DEATH STAR AND KILLED THE EMPEROR, ACT COOL (and she would indeed act cool). Fennec would be like ugh it’s that guy who helped kill my best paying client Jabba the Hutt and then fucked over my boss Boba, I helped save the kid for THIS? And I would LOVE to know how Bo Katan feels about him, assuming she’s heard of him, and especially if she knows he’s Anakin Skywalker’s son. That confusion is probably the reason WHY the writers didn’t have him reveal himself- they didn’t want to break the emotion of the scene.

Let‘s all be real I’m just being needy about wanting things from Luke because of what he meant to me as a kid and my resulting innate need to have more canon of him, whatever it is, whenever I can get it. Especially in this form that’s so similar to ROTJ, a movie I watched on endless repeat. Even getting this was incredible though. Who else could we trust this lil heart-stealing green bean with so fully? Yet who would be so arrogant as to try to train a baby yodling (see: Ahsoka’s wise refusal)?

R2 is reckless as hell lmao. Not that we don’t already know that, but for him to just head on in, effectively abandoning Luke’s ship (how can they know if there are more troopers or not who might blow it up?) and also putting himself in the path of the ridiculously deadly Dark Troopers is NUTS. I’m usually on his side but he absolutely deserves a scolding by C3PO for this one.

I wonder if Grogu has any memories of R2 or vice versa since they did occupy the Jedi Temple at the same time. Can Grogu understand droids? They could swap stories about mutual acquaintances.

Does Din pretty much have to go with Bo Katan now since a) he’s shown his face and may not be able to go back to the Watch, and b) because he has the darksaber and has to figure out how to get it back to her without dying?

How in the hell did Bib Fortuna (whose chins age was not kind to) go from being butler to being boss? Were all the henchmen just like, “Fuck yeah, no Hutt parents no rules, let’s do what we want!!” And then they’ve spent the last ten years living off of whatever money they could salvage from Jabba’s non-banked wealth? Why has no one challenged them for that prime real estate and loot? I would love to hear that story.

Fennec Shand says “respect sex workers” so you better fuckin’ do it.

Idk dude Bib Fortuna really was a good butler, and he seemed pretty willing to comply with whoever’s in power. Did he screw Boba over in his attempt to return from the dead and earn that killing shot somehow? Or was this to make sure there was no one left who would have a claim to loyalty? Or maybe Boba just really wanted to sit in that chair.

Does “The Book of Boba Fett” mean we’re not on Din Djarin’s story anymore? Or is it a new show? I would much prefer the latter. I want to see Din help retake Mandalore or at least get a hug.

[malereader-inserts]

broken crown | v.

“You’re inherited some of his traits,” Harry mentions from the armchair, “I mean you like to spew out wisdom at random times or mumble some incoherent words that are definitely not English or Latin, you’ve got his rage, his passion, his wonder and skill.”

Word Count: 1,561

A/n: Truth be told, idk if this make sense but I hope it does

< Previous | Next > 

Remus was alone in the house, after mere hours of the wedding ended, he and Tonks got into an argument, about the child she was carrying. He was alone again, in his home. Tonks decided to stay with her dad and mum whilst she cooled off - Sirius came crashing with them as well, wondering how well his cousin was doing.

Remus creeks the door open to your room, it was spotless and probably the first time he had seen it so clean. Your room felt cold, despite the summer sun shining through the windows, lighting up your Gryffindor banners and such. He looks at your bookshelves, the rows of books you had written neatly on its spine. 

Year One: September - December.

The first one in the row, in the eighteen notebooks of your years. One to six, of course, there were other notebooks stood up with them, when Remus looks he didn’t understand it as it was either advance Latin or runes he could not decipher. When you had moved into his home, you had also brought yourself a chest, Remus didn’t questioned it, but whenever he had come into your room - the chest seemed to be locked.

He’ll admit, there’s time curiosity had gotten the best of him and he’s tried to unlock it. But, it wouldn’t budge. Remus sits on your bed, looking around the room, even with your Gryffindor banners and such, your room was full of pictures. You seem to dedicate a wall for them, many of the pictures were with you and the trio as you grow up, some was with your mother, and others with him. 

Remus felt alone.

“Leave-!”

Harry had screamed at Remus, who had unexpectedly turned up at their hideout, explaining his situation. Remus could not see you in the kitchen with the three, unknown to him that you were sitting on the stairs listening to him. You grit your teeth as you wanted to explode, it hadn’t been a day yet and he was already here.

You scoffed as you hear his story, your father abandoning Tonks because she is with a child - he fears that he had passed down his gene, and yet there was you. You adored Tonks, you found her charming and had a fiery personality, she was a great addition to the family. You hear Remus leaving the kitchen, about to go down the hallway when he stops to hear your voice.

“What am I to you?” 

Remus turns around, sharply, he had hoped that you hadn’t heard his conversation with Harry. But, unfortunately, you did. There were a few things Remus had feared, one the full moon, and secondly, the hatred within your eyes. It wasn’t quite a hatred, perhaps it was offence, disappointment.

“Is that why you ran away from mum and me?” You steamed, refraining yourself from standing up and towering over him, “We could have been a happy family, you could have been-”

You stopped, lip quivering as your hands shook with rage. Those times as a child when you craved for your father was because he was too much of a coward. Your dad was practically a stranger to you at the age of nine, the age when he found the courage to meet you - not through the letters or the pictures.

“I was trying to protect you from me...” 

“NINE YEARS DAD,” You shouted, your best friend cringing how your voice broke with anger, “I never have shown signs of me being a werewolf, so why should this child have them? What are you going to do - be a coward?” 

And that stung, Remus’ shoulders deflated, as if Harry hadn’t convinced him enough to go back to Tonks, you were doing one hell of a job and stabbing whilst at it. 

“Are you going to run away forever? Come back nine years after to greet this child, that poor child doesn’t deserve that!” You exclaimed, “What if this is the end? What if we die and that child doesn’t get to have a dad, a brother? All because you were too afraid to show your face.”

You had roared, standing up as Remus took a step back, he hadn’t known you could produce such wrath and how it was terrifying to be around. Your eyes burned, and not with a fiery passion, it burns dark with a burning hatred of the moment. 

“Go-”

“(Y/n), please-”

“Come back to me when you’re a man,” You seethed, taking a step down the stairs towards him, he steps back again, wanting to keep a distance from you, “Come back to me when I see my father again, until then, I’ll be waiting on the other side.”

Remus looks at you, fury and rage had not dispersed as you threaten to take another step. Knowing not to push you over the edge, he makes a run out of the house, apparenting away. 

“(Y/n)?” Hermione softly says, noticing you had made your father run, “Please calm down...”

You took a deep breath, sitting back down on the stairs. Your hands flying to support your head. She sat down next to you, her hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you hold back a sob.

“It’ll be alright, (Y/n),” Hermione soothes, “He’ll turn around and go back to Tonks.”

“I feel like I was too harsh,” You responded, looking at her, defeated, “That was my dad, I shouldn’t have talked to him like that-”

“He’ll understand.”

It had been a few days camping in the home of the Blacks. Kreature had summoned Mundugus Fletcher and that’s when you and the group had devised a plan to get the necklace from Umbridge. It’ll take a month before everyone could set out, so there were many nights and days where you would be sitting around and talk. Anything and everything.

“I never asked,” Hermione spoke out from the piano bench, looking at you who was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling blankly, “(Y/n), what did you get in your OWL’s?”

“Yeah,” Ron hummed in agreement, “You should have gotten good grades since you’re Merlin.”

You raised an eyebrow, “I got an O in DADA, Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes and Potions - which is surprising because I was horrible at potions and Snape hated me. Pretty sure I scrape that grade, then again, if Snape hated me that much he would have graded me lower so I didn’t have to go to his NEWT lessons.”

The group chuckled remembering how you would start getting on Snape’s nerves and always struggled with memorising the ingredients. 

“I got E in Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy. And then A in History of Magic,” You shrugged your shoulders, “In all honesty, average, why?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders as you sat up, “I was curious, since you’re, you know, you?”

“Merlin was extraordinary in charms, that’s why they call him-”

“Prince of Enchantments,” Hermione nodded, smiling, almost excitedly, “I read that somewhere...”

She blushed as Ron stares lovingly at her, you shared a look with Harry before looking at Hermione with a grin your face.

“That’s correct, Merlin seems to be a peacemaker, but I don’t doubt for a minute that Merlin was poor in offence magic - he was at Arthur’s side for a reason. I just often wonder why me?”

“You’re inherited some of his traits,” Harry mentions from the armchair, “I mean you like to spew out wisdom at random times or mumble some incoherent words that are definitely not English or Latin, you’ve got his rage, his passion, his wonder and skill.”

“His rage?” You tilted your head in questioning.

“Yeah,” Ron draws you attention, “You have two types of anger, your normal state and a state where you have such threatening aura, it seems like the powers of your ancestors are with you, like invisible shadows defend you sort of thing, we call it Merlin rage.”

“Huh,” You mumbled, “I never noticed.”

“You always get caught up that’s why,” Ron continues, “Like what Harry says, you also get caught up that you start speaking words we don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Force of habit,” You shrugged your shoulders, “I guess.”

“You’re powerful,” Hermione murmurs as you looked at her, your shoulders deflated, “You were ahead of everyone in school, it’s a wonder how you got average grades.”

“I was caught up like you said, I got bored with that stuff I wanted to know more about Merlin. His spells, his notes, years worth of his adventures with Arthur and his battles with Morgana. I practised day in and day out of his spells, they are complicated and every day, I get frustrated. That he’s bestowed this purpose on me, his powers on me. I spent more time in Dumbledore’s office trying to harness it, trying to control it. I have managed to do a fraction of it - by my age, Merlin was extraordinary and I am not-”

“Yes, you are,” Harry cuts you off, as you snapped your head towards him, “You are extraordinary, you just don’t see it.”

You sighed, of course, they see you as some extraordinary figure. How can you lead an example when you can barely control what has been gifted - it would be selfish of you if you hadn’t gotten this glorious gift, but you never asked for it.

Tagged

@carefulthatsharassment-sir​​ @lanlanlan020202​ @hanniejji​ @dumbssbtch​ @lea-the-foxe​ @stan-joonies​ @littertortilla

[skzandateezwrecked]

THANK U (part 3)

Genre: angst, fluff

Group: Ateez

Member: Jung Wooyoung

Summary: Badboy!Wooyoung asks you to be his fake girlfriend to make himself seem less available to others. Would you accept it?

Word Count: 1.6k words

(a/n) part 3 is finally here! i am so sorry for the long wait. i’ll do my best to be more consistent with my writing and posting from now on. thank you all for the support! i’m so sorry if this part seems kinda rushed; i wanted to get it done asap but i promise the next part will be worth it! enjoy!

tags: (idk how to do this, i’m still fairly new hehe) @pou-noikiazeis-to-oneiro 

part 1, part 2

Not going to lie, you were nervous. It’s 2:00 PM and you were supposed to meet this person at 3:00 PM and you had just finished taking a shower. Why are you so worried about what he thinks of you? Why are you picking out a cute romper to wear from your closet? Why are you putting on makeup? To top it all off, why are you so nervous? You have not seen this dude in over a year, surely your feelings for him should have diminished by now... right?

It’s now 2:30 and you had just left your house to walk to the park. It only takes 15 minutes to get there but you decided to arrive a bit early just so you can mentally prepare yourself. You don’t know why you’re being like this. It’s not like you guys ended your friendship on a really bad note. It was just a mere argument that led the two of you to ignore each other and eventually drift apart. You don’t even remember what it was about.  

When you arrived at the park, you looked for the big oak tree which had leaves that formed a heart shape through its shadow. That was the spot. The spot that held so many good memories, laughs, and late night conversations. You smiled to yourself at the bittersweet memory.

As you were approaching the tree, you saw that someone was already sitting down and leaning against the base of its bark. The closer you walked to the tree, the more you can make out that person’s face. He was here early as well.

He was wearing a navy blue sweater and black pants with a beret to match. His camera strap is wrapped around his neck as he is looking down on his phone.

Damn, I’m really going to talk to him again, huh? You thought.

“Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin looked up from his phone and locked his eyes with yours. 

“Y-Y/n... Hi, how’ve you been?”

You smiled and sat next to him. You and Hyunjin met at a work party hosted by your parents back in elementary school, but didn’t start talking to each other until the both of you entered middle school. Hyunjin’s father is the president of JYP Enterprises and is good friends with your parents.

“I’ve been good, how about you? I see you brought your little Hyuncam with you,” You chuckled. “Hyuncam” is the name you gave Hyunjin’s camera back in middle school. “Hahaha, yeah. You know I can’t leave the house without it,” He replied. 

“So um, what is the exact reason that you wanted to meet with me? I know that it’s not just to talk about the uh, deal. You could have approached me in school about that,” You said.

“Do you really want to know?” Hyunjin asked and you nodded.

“I just wanted to see you. I miss you, like a whole lot. I miss the times we have spent together and I’m not sure if you feel the same way about me, but life has been kinda boring since you and I stopped hanging out. I guess, when I found out about the agreement you have with Wooyoung, I thought that it would be a good excuse for me to talk to you again,” Hyunjin replied. 

“I miss you too...” You whispered, just barely enough for him to hear. “Wait, how did you find out about that anyway?” You asked.

“Right, about that. When I saw you and Wooyoung holding each other’s hands at the hallway the other day, I knew something was up. You’ve complained about him and Ateez so many times before, it was strange to see you and him together. alsoimighthavebeenkindajealousbuthat’snotthepointrightnow ANYWAY-” 

“Wait, what?”

“Hm? Oh nothing. Anyway I kinda followed you two to the librar- yes I am aware that it’s very Joe Goldberg of me, stop looking at me like that!” Hyunjin rolled his eyes playfully and continued on to his story. “I stood behind the bookshelf that your guys’ table was in front of and I um, heard your conversation,” Hyunjin finished and looked up to meet your eyes. 

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” You finally said. It was silent for a while before you spoke up again. “Can we talk about how uh, our friendship kinda... ended? Like what happened, dude? You and I were doing so well and having so much fun.”

“How badly do you want to know?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Bad enough to the point where it’s been eating me alive and I can’t even count the amount of times I stayed up at night thinking about what went wrong,” You looked at Hyunjin with sad, pleading eyes. 

“I caught feelings,” Hyunjin admitted. “I don’t know when exactly, but I was afraid about what could happen if you found out and... I don’t know, I thought that if you and I stopped talking for a bit then I would lose those feelings for you,” Hyunjin continued and looked down. “But I never did...”

“Wait, are you saying you liked me? Dude! I liked you too what the hell,” You said. You were completely oblivious to the last sentence he had said. 

“Hold on, we liked each other at the same time?” Hyunjin asked in confusion.

“That’s literally what I just said my dude,” You laughed. You didn’t want to tell him that you are currently unsure about you felt about him, romantically at least.

You two started smiling to yourselves, each thinking about what could have happened if the both of you had acted upon your feelings. 

“What do you say we get out of here and get some boba? For old times sake,” You suggested.

“Let’s do it!”

Two hours later and you and Hyunjin were both on your fourth cup of boba. How your guys’ bladders could handle that much liquid whilst laughing your butts off is still a mystery. You and Hyunjin spent those two hours to the fullest; exploring the city and revisiting favorite spots that brought back fun memories. 

It was getting dark so Hyunjin decided to walk you home. The two of you started to talk the memories you had missed out together.

“Dude! Remember that time last year when the entire freshmen broke into the campus pool? That would have been a BLAST if you and I had gone together,” You said.

“Holy shit dude you’re right! OH! And do you remember whe-”

“Y/n?” You heard a familiar voice interrupt Hyunjin.

“Oh, hey Wooyoung! What are you doing here?” You asked. Wooyoung’s car was parked right in front of your house. It looks like he’s been waiting a while.

“I came to pick you up. There’s a party at Seonghwa’s and I heard that Clarissa’s going, so I need you. You weren’t answering your phone so I figured you were out so I’ve been waiting for you,” Wooyoung said. His glare towards Hyunjin was barely unnoticeable. You finally checked your phone which you didn’t realize you haven’t been using since you arrived at the park a few hours prior and sure enough when you opened it, there were tons of texts and missed phone calls all from Wooyoung.

“I’m so sorry, I haven’t been checking my phone,” You said.

“Yeah, clearly,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. Why in the world was he so pissed? “So, are you coming or not?”

“I’m exhausted Woo, maybe next time?” You suggested.

“We have a deal, Y/n. I’m not sure if you remember it. Also, you can’t go out running around town with other guys. That’s going to make people suspicious,” Wooyoung said. 

“I was with an old friend! And for the record, you don’t own me and you can’t tell me what to do.” You started to argue.

“Alrightttt I think this is my cue to leave,” Hyunjin finally spoke up, breaking the tension that was lingering in the air. 

“No, Hyunjin. Stay. At least for the night. My parents are out of town and you still have some clothes in the guest bedroom. I don’t want to force you, though,” You said. 

“Oh, yeah sure. My parents are out of town as well and I could use the company,” Hyunjin agreed.

Wooyoung looked back and forth between the two of you and scoffed. “Alright, I see how it is. Enjoy fucking each other all night since you guys apparently have the house all to yourselves,” And with that, Wooyoung went back inside his car and drove off.

“What’s up with him?” Hyunjin asked.

“Who knows?” You answered. “Let’s head on inside?”

After eating Chinese take-out for dinner, you and Hyunjin decided to get ready for bed and spend the night watching movies and playing video games.

“So... what do you say we act on Wooyoung’s suggestion?” Hyunjin smirked.

“Wait what.”

“What.”

It was now 11:30 PM and you and Hyunijn were on your 9th round of UNO. You two had planned to binge-watch The End of the Fucking World, but that was now long forgotten and only contributed to background noise. 

As you were about to scream “UNO” since you were down to your last two cards, your phone started ringing. You checked to see who it was and it was Seonghwa.

“Yes, Seonghwa?” You said. It’s quite late, why would Seonghwa be calling you?

“Y/n? It’s Yunho. Seonghwa is in the ambulance right now with Wooyoung. We’re headed to your house right now to pick you up and go to the hospital,” Yunho sounded like he has been crying.

“Wait what? What happened? Are Seonghwa and Wooyoung okay? Why are they in an ambulance?” You asked. You started thinking about all the different kinds of scenarios that could have happened, but nothing could prepare you to what Yunho was about to say.

“Wooyoung got stabbed.”

[akaashisupremacy]

Connecting Flights w/Iwa

Summary: On Hajime Iwaizumi’s flight back to Japan, he meets an unexpected friend from his past who is a little hung up on someone else. 

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers (wc: 2.2k) 

Notes: Hiromi Miura is an original character, but readers are free to put themselves into her shoes! Coming of age fics are fun to write but I wanted to explore a world centered around adulthood that included a work life outside one’s significant other. Hope you can give me feedback on whatever world-building I’ve done. Successive chapters will def have more Iwa. 

Hiromi Miura packed the last of her toiletries into her large black check-in luggage. Rolling the luggage out into the hallway, she checked her phone for the third time in ten minutes. Her boss, Hayate Hoshizora stood in the hallway waiting for her with her own luggage standing beside her.

“Where’s Tsuchida?” she asked.

Itsumi Tsuchida was the third member of their team of three and Hiromi’s room mate for the trip. She handled production and logistics so Hiromi and Hayate could write and shoot their articles on food history without worry. Despite her astounding efficiency with her work, Itsumi had a habit of being late.

“Itsumi is almost out. She’ll be here in a minute.” said Hiromi.

The three checked out of the small business hotel before going their separate ways for their last minute shopping. Hiromi wanted to window shop for shoes and cosmetics while Hayate set out to buy some omiyage for her family. Itsumi offered to accompany Hiromi on the condition they stop by for milk tea.

“Let’s meet outside of Time Square before 12 for lunch. I’m going to buy some jerky and maybe some dried goods. Do you guys want anything?” asked Hayate before they set off.

Hiromi declined. Itsumi asked for some jerky for her own omiyage.

As the two junior members of Hayate’s team entered Time Square, Itsumi noticed Hiromi was checking her phone again. She had been doing so whenever she could during the trip.

“Still no texts from Eita?” she asked Hiromi.

“Nope,” sighed Hiromi. Everything had been going smoothly just last week. She had been texting consistently with Eita. He even offered to call. She would send him photos of their first day in Hong Kong and he would eagerly reply.

Come the day before yesterday, he stopped replying all of a sudden. Hiromi had begun to worry that things had fallen apart without knowing why. Their last conversation was on Hong Kong protests. Eita fumed against the injustice, Hiromi agreed with him and nothing came after that. Maybe he joined the resistance?

“I don’t know what went wrong. I thought he liked me.” she moaned, “We have similar political views. Maybe I wasn’t enthusiastic enough when I replied to his call for justice or something.”

“Maybe you should just ask him about it.” Itsumi suggested, rolling her eyes.

“He ignored me for two days what else is there to say?”

“So why are you still looking at your phone?” Itsumi asked, with her brow raised at her co-worker, “Come, let’s go shopping to keep your mind off things.”

————————————————————————————

Hiromi and Itsumi had a penchant for hole in the wall restaurants. For their last meal, they asked to eat at a restaurant at the back of Time Square, nestled between narrow shopping alleyways. It was the first restaurant they ate in upon arrival and it would be their last meal too. They both ordered a bowl of wonton noodle soup and  a serving of bok choy shared between the three of them. Hayate ordered chicken noodle soup for herself.

The restaurant was small and narrow, not to mention humid from all the steaming and the boiling from the kitchen. Although the lunchtime service was quick and brash, the two did not seem to mind. The girls were well-travelled and cosmopolitan. They were used to environments different from the quiet efficiency of Japan. Hayate found it chaotic but the team did not get many out of country assignments so she took what she could.

Hiromi in particular specialized in writing about Southeast Asian diasporic (meaning a scattered population whose origin lies in a separate geographic locale) cuisine. Noise hardly fazed her but apparently boy problems did.

“Hiromi, you looked so forlorn. Are you really that sad about leaving Hong Kong?” she joked. Hiromi’s focus in her work was second to none. Her tolerance to mediocre young men, less so.

“There’s a boy who hasn't been texting back…” trailed Itsumi.

Hayate didn’t pry, but the girls opened up to her for just about anything.

“Oh, hmmm don’t overthink it.” she said.

“It’s ok, I mean he’s smart and artistic and he knows my friends, but I guess I wasn’t interesting enough.” wailed Hiromi in between bites of her noodles.

“Honestly, if he can’t be bothered to speak with you clearly, he doesn’t deserve your time.” said Hayate, sipping her scorching hot red tea burning a bit of throat in the process. Her eyes grew wide as her throat grew numb.

“That’s true, besides I feel like you’re more worried about why he doesn’t like you than the actual relationship.” sighed Itsumi, mixing some soy sauce, chili oil and black vinegar for their wonton dip.

“Enough moping, let’s eat and talk about something else.” exhaled Hiromi, raising her hand to call for cold water for Hayate.

The topic shifted to work. They were excited about editing the photos. Hayate couldn’t wait to unpack but was a little sad about going back to the office again. Itsumi dreaded doing the liquidation and desk work for their Hong Kong trip. Hiromi was buzzing with ideas for their next assignment and was hoping to pitch recipe ideas to the cooking staff at their next meeting.

Just before boarding, a familiar figure caught Hiromi’s eye. A tall, tanned boy with a lean muscular physique stood a few rows in front of her. He was wearing a white shirt and black athleisure pants. Iwaizumi from college?

The three were seated separately on the plane. Hiromi was seated near the back while Hayate and Itsumi were on the second row. As she got to her seat, Hiromi was surprised to find Hajime Iawizumi beside her, blinking sleepily at the seat in front of him.

“Miura-san!” he said in incredulity realizing that his college friend was right beside him in his Hong Kong layover.  

“Iwa! It is you! I thought I saw you while we boarded.” she said, shoving her carry on onto the storage, “Also, do you really have to be so formal?”

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“What are you doing in Hong Kong?” she asked simultaneously.

“I just finished my time in LA. I’m moving back to Japan. This is my last layover.” he yawned, popping a breath-mint into his mouth.

“I work as a food writer and researcher for a publication in Tokyo. My team and I are just finishing up our assignment in Hong Kong. We get out of country assignments from time to time. I’m still kind of new, but when I become a veteran I’m hoping to get more regular trips.”

“Cool! I’m moving to Tokyo next week because I got a gig training members of a Division 1 Volleyball League! This week, I’ll be home to do some laundry and just get things in order.” he said.

“If you need help moving or settling in let me know. I moved to Tokyo just last year.” she offered, “It was crazy.”

Iwaizumi nodded and thanked her for her offer. They continued catching up as the plane took off and soon the stewardess began handing out food.

“I’m so tired of plane food. It’s all I’ve eaten in the past twenty four hours,” he sighed.

“This has definitely got nothing on everything I’ve eaten so far” she exhaled, “I can’t wait to go home, even my own cooking is better than this. I got lots of new recipe ideas to try too.”

“I thought you said you were a writer. Do they make you cook at work too?” he inquired. It seemed like her job required an awful lot of skills for one position.

“I can cook to some capacity. I don’t really cook at work, it just helps if I know how.” she waved.

They ate in silence, chewing through the mediocre airline food.

“By the way, I need some boy advice. Do you have space to hear me out?” she inhaled, gathering her courage before she unloaded her questions on her friend.

“Sure? What about it?” he shrugged.

Hiromi opened up about her latest romance and its frustrations. She gave him a bit of background on who he was and how they started the relationship particularly the wishy washy feelings about their courtship.

“Do you really like this guy? You’re having more questions and doubts than answers. That’s not really a good sign. You can go ahead and be upfront but is this guy worth it?” he asked thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. I want to give it a chance but each time I think about him I get more confused and anxious.” she sighed, putting down her utensils. She bumped her head against the chair in front of her.

“He also hasn’t texted back in a few days without saying why.” she promptly added, looking to him. Iwa jerked back, his arms in a flurry.

“Scratch what I said. I don’t think the relationship is going to work. It’s not serious enough for him if he can’t at least let you know why he goes off the grid.”

Her face fell, shoulders sinking into her back.

“Sorry,” apologised Iwa, pausing to empathize with her.

“I kind of already know this and I guess I just hate uncertainty suspense. I don’t know why I feel so affected to hear it out loud.” she groaned, massaging her temples. Iwa was not good at hearing about boy problems. He didn’t really know what to say.

“Why’d you go for him anyway?” he asked, thoughtfully chewing some eggs and shifting in his seat. The seat was obviously a bit narrow for his shoulders. Hiromi moved a bit to her right to allow him more space.

Her poster straightened up while she plopped her elbows onto the table. She clasped her hands together and thought for a bit before turning to him, her eyes wide and a tad bit glassy.

“He just ticked the boxes you know? I knew him from college and we understand the other worlds we worked in. He’s smart, artistic and apparently he’s been crushing on me since freshman year or something like that. I wasn’t seeing anyone so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

“But why are you adamant to make it work is what I mean?”

Hiromi shrugged her shoulders, “I can’t help but feel like it reflects on me. I feel like I’m not worthy enough when I can’t make a relationship work with someone who ticks the boxes.”

“I really hate dating and letting someone have this much control over my emotions though.” she growled at the chair in front of her.

Iwa had a small smile to himself, glad he was not in her place. She had always been the one better at giving advice when they were in uni together. He wished he could return the favor.

Before he got together with his college girlfriend, he was swimming in a lot of doubts about himself. It was difficult for him to speak about just anyone, but Hiromi was one of few who could coax the subject out of him.

“So how are you two getting on?” Hirom had asked him.

They were sitting together in the school cafeteria for lunch. Usually they sat with common friends and some classmates, but today they were alone which meant she could pry on Iwa’s love life. Even when Iwa wanted to talk about his girl problems, he had difficulty opening up. She saw it as her mission to initiate the conversation to help him out.

Iwa scratched the back of his head and sighed, “I don’t really know how I could be a better replacement for her ex. I’m not her first anything. I’m not any more good looking, or smarter or more athletic than he was. I’m not even nicer. I really don’t know if I’m worth the shot.”

His brow furrowed in concern. His lips were midway between a pout and a scowl.

She choked on her lunch. More often than not, it was Iwa encouraging other people and giving square judgement. Iwa was by no means arrogant, but he was also not self-deprecating. Hearing him speak about himself this so despondently was out of his character.

“Iwa, dating is not a competition!” she managed to say while pounding on her chest. Iwa handed her some water.

“I guess…” he mumbled.

After slugging down some water, Hiromi composed herself, “Yeah, her ex may have been great, but you’re great too! She likes you now which is why even if her ex is still in some of her friend circles she’d still rather date you.”

Iwa perked up a bit and smiled at his food.

“Just because you’re not her first doesn’t mean you can’t have a meaningful relationship right? What’s this obsession with being first? It’s not added value.” she said thoughtfully, putting her face between her hands as she leaned into her tray.

That lunch seemed so long ago. Who would’ve known that their next lunch after college would be a plane in between Hong Kong and Tokyo?

“Hey, are you still using the same email? Let’s keep in touch when we get back. I’m holding you by your promise to show me around.” he grinned, handing her his phone.

She continued sulking in half-hearted despair at the seat in front of her while she took his phone.

“Cheer up! I’m sure you’ll find someone in Tokyo.” he added, settling himself back into his chair looking at her.

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

Taglist: @scrappydaisies @itstheee-ha-chan

[moodymidnightkitten]

Silver Bells Part 1

A/N: Welcome back! I meant to post yesterday but I was busy with work and getting my thigh tattooed banged out all at once in 3.5 hours, which hurts, immensely by the way. But I present to you my fic featuring the man whose last name I use as my own on Facebook, the handsome and infamous, Kakashi Hatake. Enjoy! 

w/c:1809

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader

Genre: light fluff with mostly set building 

Hit this for my masterlist!

It's been a long journey, and one you never saw yourself making. Not in all 25 years of your life, but you've received orders from a man you never met, that was given to your mother when he left after their short but apparently intense fling. 

Jiraiya, your apparent father had made sure to inform your mother that if word was to get back to her about his death she would make sure you went to the Leaf Village. And that's where you were headed now. Actually coming up to the gates now. 

Completely lost as to where to go when you stepped past the gates you spotted a stand where two shinobi sat. So you made your way over to them. 

"Uhm, good morning.." you quietly said to one of the men, who looked up to you and smiled. 

"Good morning! You look lost, what can I do for you?" He smiled at you and was being very courteous, something you didn't expect being a stranger in the village. 

"Honestly, I don't know, my father wanted me to come here after his passing given this was his home village, you might know him more than I did, but his name was Jiraiya," the smile slipped off the shinobi face at the mention of your fathers name. 

"Oh, well let me bring you to the Hokage, she will be of more assistance to you," said the shinobi, now walking out from the stand and giving a look to the other who was still sitting. 

"That seems like a lot buts its very appreciated, to be honest, I don't know much about my father, nothing worth noting at least," and you filled in the shinobi as you walked through the village. Also making sure to take in your surroundings. 

"Given his nature, this was most certainly expected," the shinobi tried to play off what he said as some dumb joke but even though you didnt know him a lot, it was still disrespect to the man who offered half of himself to create you. 

The rest of the trip was silent until you two came up to a dome-like building, climbing the stairs and walking through hallways until you reached a set of double doors. The shinobi knocked. 

"Tsunade, there's an immediate and important person here for you to see,' he peeked his head in after originally gaining permission, you heard a female voice grant permission to let you in, the shinobi held open the door for you as you walked in, closing it behind you, you realized he left you hear with a big chested blonde woman with beautiful blue eyes, this must be Tsunade, the Hokage. 

"And who might you be?" She asked, keeping attentive eye contact. 

"I'm, y/n, Jiraiya's daughter," you held your hands together in front of you. You swear you could see all emotion drain from her face, who would’ve thought news like this could shake a Hokages character, they must’ve been close you thought. After what felt like a few minutes she finally spoke again. 

“Okay, so what brings you here?” she had her hands together, fingers intertwined and elbows on the desk, basically hiding half of her face, which seemed back to normal. 

“I don't know, I was told to come here under the circumstances of his death, and here I am,” you rubbed the back of your head with one hand, feeling tense. 

“Okay, well I’ve been a friend of your father for long enough to know that even though some things he did never made sense, their was always a reason, you can stay here until we figure that out, I’ll get someone to help you with getting you to a place where you can live, just wait here for a moment,” she said, getting up and about to walk passed you, but stopping and putting an arm on your shoulder and smiling at you. Eventually leaving you in her office alone. 

You didn’t mean to peep around but you found yourself gazing over the village through the large window that wrapped itself around most of the office, taking in your apparently new home, and it looked nice, sincerely it was a change of pace from where you were living, the Tanzaku Quarters. You were deep in thought, thinking of how you left your mother to come here, from a whim of a man whom you’ve never met when you were startled by the sound of the door opening. Looking over in that direction you saw Tsunade walk back in, followed by a tall man with white hair and his facemask and his Leaf headband covering a majority of his face. 

“Y/n, this is Kakashi, he’ll be assisting you today, Kakashi, this is y/n,” she waved between you both as you walked closer to them. 

“She’s Jiraiya's daughter, see to it nothing happens to her.” The news seemed to be shocking to everyone else you’ve encountered except Kakashi. “You two may go now, as much as I would like to talk to you more, we’ll have more time for that later.” Tsunade said, walking back behind her desk and sitting. 

“Well it was nice meeting you,” you said with a bow, quickly following Kakashi who was already walking out. 

Kakashi didn’t talk much for the beginning of your journey to your new home, but that was okay you were enjoying the quiet. Casually peeping over to look at him, how nice he looked, especially his hair, which made you quite envious, how did he get such nice hair. He must’ve felt you looking at him because as his face looked down towards yours you quickly shifted your gaze to the road ahead of you. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pausing his walking. Causing you to abruptly stop as well, not wanting to make it seem like you were overly staring at him and how nice he looked. 

“Uhh yeah, I honestly can’t remember when the last time I stopped was,” and that was all he needed to hear before walking to his left, you averted your gaze to see where he was walking and it was a little ramen shop named Ichiraku. Kakashi lightly bent over and shifted the hanging sign, making himself a resident on one of many open seats, in fact they were all open. And you sat next to him. Walking helped distract you but now that you two were calmly sitting down together you felt a little nervous to be within such close proximity of this handsome man. 

“Kakashi! Welcome back, oh, and you brought a guest!” an older man behind the counter exclaimed in moderate excitement. Overall he seemed friendly though. And didn’t ask or talk much more than that outside of getting your order. 

“So, y/n, where exactly are you from?” Asked Kakashi in between bites. 

“Tanzaku Quarters, in the Land of Fire,” you said, finishing up your ramen. And as you went to put money on the counter Kakashi was already on it, causing your hands to awkwardly touch, and it lasted longer than it should’ve, making direct eye contact with Kakashi. This small moment had you absolutely flustered, you could feel your face burning. 

“I-I got it,” you tried to insist. 

“You’re a guest, and I asked you if you wanted to eat, it’s only right that I pay.” That was probably the longest sentence you’ve heard Kakashi speak. But little did you know, Kakashi also had a blush creeping onto his face as well. 

Kakashi POV -rewind thirty minutes ago upon first meeting Y/N-

She’s stunning, she’s just standing there by the window but she looks absolutely gorgeous. But I don’t even know her, this attraction is as irrational as it gets. 

She and Tsunade seemed to have finished their conversation, I just need to bring her to the apartment I was told to bring her to and watch over her from time to time. No need to elongate the amount of time we spend together. 

We’ve only been walking for a short while, why does she look so famished, has she not stopped moving since she left home to come here? 

“Are you hungry?” the question slipped out of my mouth before I could even think about them. 

And now here we are, fingers touching and I’m getting nervous, what am I fourteen? These emotions don’t make sense but her eyes are so much more beautiful up close. 

“Let’s go,” I finally say and begin to walk out, hearing her small footsteps trying to catch up. And when she did, she was walking closer to me, my face feels like it’s on fire, but luckily we’ve made it to the apartments. She hasn’t said anything since we left Ichiraku, so she can either be feeling as awkward as I do, or she has found herself already comfortable being around me and I’m hoping for a little bit of both. 

“Here you go,” I said, handing her the keys, after stopping in front of the door. 

Your POV

The rest of the walk was quiet, which you didn’t mind, you were used to it by now, you were enjoying it, not so much as the random strangers you didn’t know looking at you, but you were content. You and Kakashi walked up the stairs of an apartment building before he once again abruptly stopped in front of you, turning around and putting his hand out, a set of keys dangling between his fingers. 

“Here you go,” he said, waiting for you to take them, so you held out your hand and he dropped them. You unlocked the door and walked in, stopping and turning around. 

“Thank you for your help, I really appreciate it,” you said, a blush creeping on your cheeks. 

“Now that you know where you’ll be living you should get some rest before adventuring anything else,” was all he said before just walking away. Which confused you because it seemed as though he was relieved to be finished doing this small task. But you couldn’t be too offended, you would probably feel like this was such a drag to do as well if you were in his shoes. You looked around the apartment getting used to your new surroundings, it really wasn’t much but it was comfortable. But something caught your eyes, something silver and small shimmered under the setting sun on the bed. 

A set of bells and a small note that read,

“Carry these, as a just in case if you do get lost.” Signed Kakashi, it was wholesome but impractical, there's no way he would always be within distance for him to hear this but you found it really endearing. You smiled and continued to get ready for bed, actually excited to be here now, and excited for what's to come.

[soundsaboutrighttumblr]

Cool Boy - ramking fic

 Read at AO3  

                     Summary:            

My take on what happens after season one’s final episode for them. Ram’s POV.

Texting. Then meeting back at the condo.

                Also, this song put me in the mood: youtube.com/watch?v=CCPqEEC8J_0 Josh Rabenold's cover of Ocean Eyes

---    

I’m sorry

---

By late afternoon, Ram is back at the condo.

The washing machine’s been loaded with the trip’s laundry, and his tooth brush has been put back into its holder. The plants needing water have been cared for. Feeling modestly accomplished and a tad less restless Ram takes to the couch, swiping through pictures of the last two days that his friends have kept sending to him. Mostly because he knows he’ll come across and stop at that one.

He opens the tab with King’s messages. Just in case he didn’t hear the notification. But this morning’s sent text still sits unanswered.

 I wasn’t drunk last night.

Ram deliberates sending King the photo. But Ting already might have. For sure she did. He’s about to get up for something to drink, when suddenly his eyes are drawn to movement, and the typing bubble pops up in the corner. If Ram sits up straighter for it, no one is there with him to judge him for it. The notification sounds off in his hand.

Thanthep King: I’m sorry

Ram stares at it. He doesn’t want it to, but it feels like a punch to the gut somehow. A damper on his careful, hopeful waiting. He’s been telling himself to keep his worrying in check, tells himself the same thing now. What is King saying? I am sorry I can’t do this?

Ram waits. A long minute. Two.

Thanthep King: I shouldn’t have shouted at you like this

More typing.

Thanthep King: Or pushed you

Ram breathes out slowly. Texts back:

 It’s okay

Thanthep King: I am 80 percent sure I wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t been drunk…

Ram feels the corner of his mouth tick up. It’s only half a smile. He types:

 I know

The dots in the upper corner keep moving. But no more messages come through.

Ram waits.

---

Ram knows King’s plan was to stay the night at his grandma’s house, and drive home after lunch the next day. King can take a car that his grandma’s gardeners will collect on their next errant in the city. They’ve done it before, apparently. It’s almost a two-hour drive, so Ram first expected King back around afternoon.

He took the dogs out for a long walk around midday, but left them at Duen’s parents’ for a few more nights with a heavy heart. Daoheni cares for them with that special possessive brand of generosity only a child can muster, and they have a big garden for them to play in, so he supposes it’s okay.

It's starting to get dark outside.

Ram’s trying to watch a tech documentary that one of their teachers recommended, but he keeps pausing and switching tabs because he can’t seem to concentrate. He’s halfway across the room to check their stock of cold drinks in the fridge, when he hears rustling at the entrance. So once the door opens, Ram kind of just stands there.

King’s eyes flick over to him, but then he turns around to bring in his bags. Ram reaches for a glass on the counter, to have something to do, but he waits. Fills it at the tab. Then sets it down again. King glances at him once more, shuffling off his shoes, but then he skips down, crouching to address some of his plants on the lower levels of his shelf:

“Hello, hello, I am back at last, did you guys miss me?” His voice trails off at the end, but he coughs and touches two of the succulents in passing, his tone light: “Have you grown? I have only been gone for three days…” He runs his fingertips along several of the long, hanging leaves, but his movements are erratic, like he is unsure how many more plants he can greet before he has to face Ram.

Then he stands and turns to Ram with the same bright quality of voice:

“Hey.”

Ram brings his chin up in a careful smile he isn’t sure makes it all the way to his lips.

King’s head is tilted in that observing way, apprehensive almost, with eyes that are tiny bit too wide. He looks oddly vulnerable in the hallway of his own apartment.

“Have you eaten?”

Ram nods. Ignores how his heart wants to beat out of his chest.

“I’ve brought so many leftovers from at my grandma’s. It’s like a week’s worth of Tupperware…” He half-laughs and gestures to bag he left next to entrance.

Ram nods again. Takes a step closer to King. He’s not so sure why. He just wants King to look at him, not in that furtive way, but really look at him, so that Ram can see, and so that he can let King know.

He doesn’t know why it feels so strangely urgent, maybe it’s the day of waiting, or the dismissive lightness of King’s voice.

King’s forefinger and thumb rub against each other, and there’s that slope to his neck again, but at least he doesn’t take a step back. His eyes are ever assertive, still glancing, but he has turned his body towards Ram nonetheless.

Ram knows that any inch more will bring him inside King’s space, and he doesn’t want to be invasive, but he wants to be there.

“I think I should put them in the fridge…”

Ram reaches for King’s hand. Puts his fingers around his forearm, stopping him in his motion to go for his bag. King stills. Ram just tightens his grip once, an impulse, a signal, then he makes the circle of his fingers gentle, loose but there, and his thumb draws a caress along King’s skin.

He thinks he feels King shiver. Then King looks at him. The flicker is in his eyes as well.

“Ai’Ning…”

“Why?“

King blinks, a question in the lift of his brows; in the part of his lips. He looks caught and chased and puzzled and knowing at the same time.

“What changed?” Ram’s voice is low even to his own ears. Pleading. And somehow he doesn’t even mean since the text he sent yesterday morning, not since the time they last saw each other, doesn’t mean since the kiss… he somehow means what has changed since that time you put that flower in my hair and told me I’d always be welcome around you. And he wishes he could make King understand what he means. Don’t you want this? Didn't you say you do?

Ram has brought King’s arm in his hand up to their chests, their feet stepping in between each other’s, barefoot toes almost touching. King’s face is so close to his that everything else around him blurs.

Ram sees him trying to make sense, behind those clever eyes, watches his mouth open and close, and open. Huffed bouts of breath trickle along his neck, before King’s voice carries:

“I don’t want to hurt you, and even more, in a stupid way like this!” There’s force behind King’s words at first, but then it stumbles, peters out. “…and, honestly, all it needed was some alcohol, and I was hurting you.”

He swallows, a hitch like a dry laugh to his voice. His eyes are so wide.

“I don’t think…  I think I am actually really not good at this?"

A skipped breath, a missed heartbeat.

"I don’t know what I am doing? You deserve-”

Ram seals his lips to King’s open mouth mid-word.

----

He doesn’t even move fast. It's like he’s carried along, inside a shore-bound wave the tide pulled in.

----

King’s eyes flutter closed in reflex, but Ram’s linger. He has to know King is okay. With this.

A sound like pain leaves king's throat, breath pushing out through his nose.  

But he stays.

So, Ram kisses him as slow and gentle as he dares, empathically so. His own heart loud and high and wild in his chest.

King’s lips taste different today, with no trace of whiskey. His mouth feels softer, and there is gentle give. It pushes Ram into a rush like sudden falling.

When King shifts his weight from one foot to the other one in between Ram’s stance, Ram keeps him close just by the yielding angle of his mouth.

He brings one hand up to King’s neck, the other lost somewhere in the fabric of King’s shirt. King’s fingers hold fast onto the sides of Ram’s sweater.

When the first kiss stops, King is still almost vibrating inside of Ram’s embrace, breath shaking, although his forehead leans lightly to touch Ram’s.

 But it feels like getting there. Somewhere. Better.

Ram decides and searches King's lips again, unhurried as before. King makes a soft sound of surprise and welcome.

And Ram is kissed back. Was before, too, but now it is in every way King’s body makes contact with his, drawing him in, gaining steady momentum.

---

When they pull back for air, just slightly, cheeks and noses keep touching, still nudging, grazing against each other.

This time King’s hand has found its way to the neckline of Ram’s sweater, loosely clinging there. His fingertips draw tiny caresses into Ram’s collar bone, and Ram is reminded of the way King has greeted his plant just earlier, and all those times before: subtle touches, checking up and reconnecting and exploring, and he feels lighter. Despite it all, everything feels lighter.

King’s voice is warm and slightly cracked against Ram’s neck:

“You are… important.”

Ram isn’t sure he gets everything King wants to tell him with those words right now. But he understands the implied ‘to me’.

He nods against King’s shoulder.

As close as they are, it’s just a shifting of their weight, really, to pull each other deeper into their arms.

                             Notes:  

Did I get up yesterday night after already going to bed to write the rough draft of this until 3 am on a work day? Maybe.

Shout at me? Lemme know what you think? <3

Also thank you to @electricunicorn5678  for helping out with the spelling of Ai'Ning <3

[dead-inside-cx]

How Present Mic found out

Classes had ended for the day. Most students were back at the dorms at this time. A few were still lingering which was fine, Present Mic wasn’t going to tell them to go back to the dorms. They knew when they had to be back. So why not just leave them be?

Present Mic was heading back to the living quarters on campus himself. He and Aizawa had their own little apartment on campus. As did the rest of the teachers. Mic was on cooking duty, so he needed to make sure they actually had food to cook. Otherwise he would need to go and get some food.

He walked down a seemingly empty hallway near the entrance, before his eyes went wide. He stopped walking, he was speechless which was surprising for someone who was generally loud and always had something to say.

The scene before him was horrifying, and not for the reason people would think. He was gay himself and married so that was the horrifying thing. It was more horrifying watching two students he taught up against a wall tongue deep in one others mouth. He didn’t even realize you could shove your tongue that far down someone’s throat.

He cleared his throat and the couple in question quickly pulled away eyes wide. They quickly readjusted their uniforms blushing before looking over. “Oh it’s just Mic-sensei.” Midoriya said. Mic saw Bakugo look at the boy like he was crazy. “Seriously?” He said. “What...? OH SHIT ITS MIC-SENSEI. KAACHAN ITS MIC-SENSEI!!!!!” If Mic could laugh he would have, instead he was well still speechless. He watched Bakugo face palm. “This is why we should have waited until we got back to the dorms. Fucking needy little shit.” “But Kaachaaaaaan....” Bakugo just shook his head. “Are you two dating?” Mic asked finally finding his voice. The two looked at each other before nodding then looking at him. “Yes we are. It’s a secret though. We just aren’t ready to come out yet.” Bakugo said to him.

Mic nodded. “Do any of your teachers know besides me?” He really needed someone to talk to about this. The image was burned into his mind. “Aizawa-sensei knows.” Midoriya said. Mic nodded. Well at least his husband knew....Wait his husband knew!? Tonight’s conversation was going to be interesting.

“I won’t tell anyone, but uh in future try not to do...well that in the open like this. Next time it might be a student.” He saw the two boys blush. “Noted. Thank you sense.” Bakugo said. He was a little shocked to see the usually angry boy acting so soft. It was kinda scary. “It won’t happen again!” Midoriya said smiling brightly. He wouldn’t have believed that innocent green haired boy was so...feral but since he saw it with his own eyes...Well he wasn’t sure how to feel.

“Right...Well I’ll leave you two alone now.” Mic just wanted to leave, and so he did. “Fucking told you we would get caught out. This is why we shouldn’t be fucking making out in every empty hallway Izuku.” “I can’t help it Kaachan!” Was the last thing he heard before leaving the school.

Once Mic got back to the apartment he sat on the couch. He had no words. He thought the relationship between the two boys was complicated and estranged. Instead it was complicated in public and romantic behind the scenes.

 ~A couple hours later~

 “Hizashi? You here?” He heard his husbands voice. He looked over at the time. He had ended up sitting in that position for a couple hours without realizing it. “Uh yeah Shota.” Hizashi called out. Shota walked over to him. “You look like shit, did something happen?” Shota frowned at him.

“Did something happen? Something happened alright.” Hizashi folded his arms. “Do tell.” “Why didn’t you tell me that Bakugo and Midoriya are dating? You could have hinted!” He watched as Shotas eyes widened a little.

“How did you find out?” He asked. “Well I was minding my own business making plans for dinner tonight and then I turn down this empty hallway, there they were up against a wall tongues down each other’s throats! I am traumatized! I’m not against it but in the middle of the hallway!?” He watched Shota nod before he started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” “Y-you mean to tell me that you found them in the middle of the hallway? Making out like their lives depended on it?” “YES! The image is burned into my brain Shota!” Hizashi was a little hurt that his husband found this to be funny but if he was in his position he would be laughing as well.

Shota fell to the ground laughing. He felt a little bad but to be honest he just found it funny. “This isn’t funny Shota! I am traumatized. I didn’t even know you could shove a tongue that far down someone’s throat, but guess what? You apparently can and it was Midoriya! The most innocent one of them all!!” That made Shota laugh even more. Ever since finding out about the couple he had come to realize just how corrupt Midoriya actually was. The two had been talking quite a bit about their relationship. Which Shota was glad for.

“Stop laughing! Why can’t you comfort me like a normal husband?” Hizashi pouted.

Eventually Shota calmed down. He was pretty sure he had almost died from laughing so much, but it was worth it. It was a funny situation. Shota sat next to his husband. “How long have you know?” Hizashi asked. “A couple months now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, it might have slipped my mind but I also wanted the boys to trust me. They don’t want this out.” “I understand. I’ll make sure I keep quiet as well.” Hizashi was more than happy to keep this a secret.

“I never knew Midoriya was so...” “Corrupt?” Hizashi nodded. “I was surprised as well, when I first realized it. He’s come to talk to me quite a bit about their relationship. I think it helps him a lot since he can’t really talk to his mother. And he has no father in the picture.” Shota frowned at that. “Something wrong?” “I worry for them both naturally, but I do worry about Midoriya. From what little pieces I’ve gotten his father is absent but a pretty fucked up guy.” Shota sighed. “Dadzawa is true then?” Shota glared at him. “I am not their dad.” “Could have fooled me. You care for your students a lot, but you also act like their dad. Especially with Midoriya and hell even Bakugo. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how soft you are for the two.” The little hit was worth it. “Not their dad.” Shota grumbled.

“So is All Might the father figure then?” “He is not! I know more about these kids then he does! Especially Midoriya and Bakugo. The two come to me more than him now!” Hizashi had to laugh. It was adorable seeing his husband be protective like a father. “You are so dadzawa. I think it’s a good thing sweetie.” Shota just sighed. “Let’s just cook dinner. We can talk more about how I’m not dadzawa later on, and work on a plan to make sure the boys don’t get caught.” Shota got up and walked to the kitchen. “Dadzawa.” Hizashi whispered, but happily followed his husband.

Hizashi might never be able to walk down that hallway ever again, or be able to look the boys in the eyes but at least he could do his best to help them. To help them feel safe and to even talk to him about anything. Even if it would ultimately traumatize him. He might need to take some pointers from dadzawa.

This wasnt asked for, but I really wanted to write this. (If you saw my tumblr post, you will understand). I hope you enjoyed this installment. Dadzawa is gonna be showing up a lot more now!

[irrelevantwriter]

By The Light Of The Moon

Pairing: Negan x Witch!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, mutual masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, Negan getting seriously mind fucked, spooky tings (bc its Halloween and I’m in the spirit)

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Negan takes notice of a beautiful stranger at The Sanctuary. You’re willing to offer a lot more than he signed up for.

A/N: So, because I can’t possibly help myself, I’ve decided to do a take on the Hopper x Witch fic I did and do one for my OG Daddy Negan. This one is A LOT more in depth and long AF, but so worth it. This idea was perfect for Negan and I can’t wait to see what you guys think! Enjoy and share with your friends!

P.S.

Requests are still coming! This def got me in the headspace for Negan again. Be on the lookout. And if you’d liked to be tagged in any of my stories, holla at your girl.

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

Negan swung Lucille at his side, deciding to bring her along on his trek through The Sanctuary’s marketplace. The air was crisp and smelled of pumpkin and apple spices. According to his timekeepers, it was the night before Halloween. And The Sanctuary was in full spirit.

Baked goods permeated the air while children rushed to put a costume together. Negan couldn’t help the smile that fell on his lips at the sights and smells. It felt good to be festive and he’d decided to stroll through his kingdom to take in all it had to offer.

Of course he did have an ulterior motive for such a visit. He was Negan after all. He never did anything without a reason. And his stroll had a purpose.

As if seemingly overnight, the whole place had become enchanted with a woman selling homemade goods in the market. She apparently made soaps, candles, and oil remedies, among other things. And they seemed to work, at least by the accounts of his people. It sounded like hippie shit to him. But even Simon had brought her up, talking nonstop about the fucking lotion she made him for his sore shoulder. The man seemed hypnotized...everyone did. And Negan came to find out just exactly what all the fuss was about.

People dropped to their knees as he moved through the crowd, but he waved them off. He was here on pleasure, not business. His dark eyes found a booth in the corner with a crowd surrounding it, the person in charge not visible through the shoppers. Negan made his way over, sure this was where he was headed.

A hushed silence filled the air as he strode up, effectively making his way to the front of the line. He smiled when his eyes caught the beauty behind the table. He understood why so many people were taken with you. You were stunning.

He bit his lip, his toothy grin on full display as he took you in. Beyond your obvious attractiveness, there was a magnetic pull, something he couldn’t quite explain. It was mystic and not solid, like a fog. And he could feel it calling to him.

“Well, what do we have here?” He bellowed, making the people nearby pause. He found he didn’t care to have an audience so he dismissed them, insinuating the booth was closed to everyone except him.

He observed you, trying to read your expressions. You didn’t seem at all perturbed by his actions. In fact, you seemed somewhat amused. A smile turned one corner of your lips and he found himself mirroring the gesture.

“So you’re the one who everyone’s been going on about?” He gestured with his free hand to your surroundings, appearing as if he was unimpressed by your reputation.

Truth was...he was intrigued. And mildly suspicious. Not much got by him at The Sanctuary, if anything. The fact that you’d gone under the radar and passed his keen eye peaked his interest.

“Guess so.” You replied simply, face still unmoving.

He grunted, a little disappointed at your lack of response.

He’d be the first to say what an arrogant, self-righteous asshole he was. Leading a community had made him a hardened man. People respected him. They feared him. And women were enamored with him. They practically threw themselves at his feet. Your blasé attitude made him falter. Yet he found himself inexplicably drawn to you...to your energy. Whatever the fuck that meant.

He picked up a bottle filled with thick ivory cream. The handwritten label said it was body lotion with hints of lavender and vanilla. He wasn’t usually into the fresh scents of body washes and lotions, but he had to admit that the shit smelled amazing.

“Your products are all the rage around here, doll.” He perused your table, picking up a random item here and there to scent. His fingers stopped on a drawstring bag with herbs, the label identifying it as a sleep aide.

“A lot of people feel that they work. Helps them get through the days a little easier.” You explained, following him down the table.

Negan nodded, lifting a lavender candle to his nose. The fucking thing smelled heavenly. “So I’ve heard.”

“You should take some.” You offered, gesturing to the bag of herbs he’d been eyeing moments before.

“For sleep? Why would I need that?” He questioned, almost offended you assumed he didn’t get quality rest.

“It’s the most popular. Not many of us get a good night’s rest these days. I imagine leading this place makes it difficult to fully relax.” You picked up the bag and held it out to him, a pleasant smile still present on your lips.

Negan studied you long and hard, uncaring if he made you uncomfortable. He didn’t appear to though. You stood facing him head on, eyes catching his in a captivating stare off.

“How long have you been here? At The Sanctuary.” He watched as you finally let your hand fall, giving up on passing the herbs to him.

“A couple of months.”

“Who brought you in?” He pressed, eyebrow arched and jaw clenched in an intimidating fashion.

“I don’t remember.”

Negan shook his head and pursed his lips, unhappy with your answer. “Sounds a little suspicious to me.”

He waited a beat to see if you’d react. You didn’t.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“Doll is fine.”

He chuckled, amused by your answer. “You’d be the first to say so.”

He sighed and straightened his back, standing to his full height. He could tell that there was something different about you, something enigmatic. He hadn’t figured out if it was good or bad. He felt the need to push you for answers, to learn every detail of your life, both past and present. But he could also feel a nagging in the back of his head, a nagging that was urging him to let it go.

He decided he would. For now. At least until he could fuck you. Which he planned to do soon.

“I’ll take the herbs and a candle, doll.”

***********************************************

Negan awoke with a start. His body was prickled with sweat, his limbs feeling like lead weights. He reached on his nightstand for his watch, taking note of the still black night outside his windows.

12:00 am.

It was Halloween.

And he’d only been asleep for a few hours.

He searched his memory, trying to piece together his evening. His mind felt oddly foggy and he had to concentrate hard on remembering.

He’d made it to his room after fucking Tanya’s red-headed brains out and then ate his dinner. Then, he’d gone over some notes with Simon for the meeting the next day and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He’d remembered the bag of herbs he’d bought from you and decided to give them a try. He’d followed your instructions and mixed them into a warm mug of water, making sure the liquid went from clear to a light yellow. He found that detail odd, but you’d assured him it was normal.

He drank it. The mixture had a surprisingly pleasant taste. And then he’d apparently passed out because his memory stopped there.

His mouth felt dry and he fumbled for a bottle of water he kept nearby. He drained its contents, wayward drops of water landing on his bare chest instead.

He wiped his mouth and the sweat from his brow, scanning his bedroom for the thing that woke him. Everything appeared to be in order. He stopped and listened, waiting to hear a noise or two. Nothing. All was quiet.

He was overcome with the sudden compulsion to seek you out. It startled him how much he wanted to do so. And while he knew the hour was late and he had no real reason for doing so, he did it anyway.

Negan walked the silent halls of The Sanctuary, somehow knowing exactly where to find you. He moved quickly, the urge to see your face now a desperate craving. Everyone was asleep. Not a soul was up or moving about. That fact was odd. The factory always stayed alive with some sort of activity, even in the dead of night.

That wasn’t the case tonight.

He made it to your closed door in minutes, the light coming from beneath signaling that you were still awake. His heart was hammering in his chest, his body suddenly having a strong reaction to your proximity. He felt off. He’d felt off since he woke up, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong. All he knew was that he had to see you.

He knocked softly, listening for movement beyond the wooden barrier. He heard a shuffle of feet and then the knob turned. Your figure was illuminated by the light at your back as you opened the door. A wave of lavender and rose scent hit him, instantly putting him in a state of relaxation. He hungrily took in your appearance. A white nightgown that stopped just above your knees adorned your frame. It was a thin cotton material, the fabric nearly see through. It was a mesmerizing sight.

“Hi, I uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. A true first. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, doll.” He scratched at the back of his neck, attempting to focus on your face and not your seemingly impeccable pair of tits.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, smiling up at him as you spoke.

You suddenly stepped away from the doorway and out of Negan’s line of vision. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before you returned, only this time you had a long black knit cardigan on and flats on your feet. You made a move to step into the hallway with him and he backed up quickly to allow you to do so.

“What’re you doing?” He asked as you turned back to face him.

“Taking you somewhere.” You reached for his hand, pulling him with you down the hallway. Negan followed, though he was unaware of why he was doing so.

“Where? It’s the middle of the goddamn night.” He questioned, taking notice of how you moved with such ease through the maze of halls.

“Somewhere special.” You threw over your shoulder as you led him outside into the chilly October evening.

The sky was black, probably the blackest Negan had ever seen it. But the moon was full and it was illuminating everything. It cast a ghostly glow on the factory and the surrounding woods. A breeze swept through the trees, the remaining leaves falling off their limbs almost instantly. The night was soundless, just like The Sanctuary. It was unusual. Not even the low, decaying groans of the dead could be heard.

“Where’s my fucking guards?” He asked you, somehow knowing you would know the answer. He gestured to the lookout posts atop the fences, the empty spaces making him pause. You pulled against his hand, your flesh suddenly heating him from the inside out.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.” You soothed.

It worked. And he was back to following you beyond the fences.

The woods were dense and difficult to navigate, but you maneuvered through them like you’d been doing it for years. He let you lead him. His body and mind followed you, trusted you. He realized how bizarre and extremely out of character his behavior was, but he couldn’t put a stop to it. Nor did he want to.

The cabin was nestled deep into the woods, but close enough to The Sanctuary that Negan wondered how he’d missed it. It had clearly been here for some time, but appeared to still be kept up by someone. There was a soft glow of light from a window, a billow of smoke rising into the night from the chimney. It was both a welcoming and ominous sight.

They hadn’t encountered any of the dead throughout their journey. He hadn’t even heard an animal rustle in the trees. It was if they were they only two people alive. He found he didn’t mind that fact. It was obvious he was willing to follow you anywhere.

You opened the door of the cabin and ushered him inside. The intoxicating scents of lavender filled his nostrils, the sensation making his eyes roll into the back of his head. He suddenly felt buzzed, as if he’d downed several shots of whiskey. His senses felt dulled and heightened all at the same time. He was entranced by you, by this place.

Orange flames burned in the fireplace, illuminating the space. An old table with two chairs sat near a makeshift kitchen, herbs and flowers hanging from the window to dry out. A small sofa and a chair made up the living room next to the fire. A bookcase held rows and rows of thick, leather-bound books. The titles were too small for Negan to see from his spot near the door, but he could tell the spines were worn with time.

His attention was diverted to the back corner where a large bed sat. It was adorned in black sheets and a dark purple blanket. Black lace hung from the four-poster railings, surrounding the bed in a veil of darkness. Candles littered the surfaces of two nightstands, the wax falling downward onto the wood top to escape the heat of the flame.

“Here.” You appeared in front of him with a steaming cup of liquid. You’d removed your cardigan and flats, your shoulders bare and calling to him.

“What is it?” He asked, accepting the drink. He inspected it, but it looked unremarkable. He took an exploratory sip, the smell wafting up to him .

“Tea.” You answered, moving behind him to remove his leather jacket. He let you, as had become the pattern for the evening.

Your hands danced along his arms, inspecting his tattoos with curiosity. He remained still, taking small sips from the mug as you did so. He felt your touch run up his bicep and over his shoulders, caressing the chords in his neck as you explored. Your palm made contact with his bearded cheek and he nuzzled into the warmth.

“You’re very important, Negan.” You mused, moving a strand of out of place hair from his forehead.

“Of course I fucking am. I’m a leader.” He agreed, his smug attitude finally making a comeback.

You smiled at his response and took the mug from his hand. You placed it on the table behind you and moved back into his personal space. Your hands gripped at his white t-shirt, your body pressing into his.

“That’s not what I meant.” You whispered into his neck, lips grazing his flesh.

His body broke out into shivers at the touch of your lips. He could feel your body heat radiating from you, the thrum of your heartbeat echoing in his ears. He wondered if you could hear his too with the way it was pumping.

“You have a purpose. I want to show you what that purpose is.” You pressed your lips against his suddenly, your tongue demanding permission to explore him.

Negan gripped your hips in return, matching your ferocity with his own. You tasted as good as you looked and he couldn’t get enough. He affixed himself to you, pressing closer as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Your breasts pushed into him and he responded with a thrust of his hips into yours. You pulled your mouth from his, peppering his neck with sensual kisses and determined bites.

“My purpose to fuck you? Because that’s about to fucking happen, doll.” He gritted through clenched teeth as one of your hands brushed his fast-hardening cock. He hissed as you bit down particularly hard on his neck and then lapped at it with your tongue seconds later.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric up and off in record speed. Negan threw his head back as you assaulted his chest with your mouth, your hands playing with the clasps of his pants. The roaring of extreme arousal was making itself known inside of him and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off.

His hands ventured beneath your nightgown and up your bare thighs, colliding with the white scrap of lace that hugged you. Your skin felt smooth, unblemished; as if you hadn’t spent all these years fighting for your life like everyone else. Your aroma was calling to him, making his mouth water and his control wane. He palmed your ass, gripping your flesh with a needy hunger. You moaned into his ear at the action, seemingly pleased with his touch. The air was thick with sexual electricity and Negan knew he wasn’t going to be able to leave this cabin until he had you.

“The bed.” You ordered, your voice coming out low and raspy. It was sexy. Your desire for him so strong that it literally poured from your lips.

Negan steered you both towards the satin and lace fortress, the bed a beacon in a midnight thunderstorm. You stopped him once the back of your knees made contact with the mattress, your lips finally pulling away from his chest and neck. He was sure he had at least a dozen fucking hickeys littering his skin by now.

He waited as you stared up at him, his hands still clutching the globes of your ass. You surprised him by cradling his face in your hands, the moment suddenly becoming intimate. Your eyes held a distinct spark, your lips a knowing smile. It was if you knew something he didn’t…a secret.

“You’ve been through so much pain.” You stated softly, fingers caressing the crow’s feet near his eyes.

He looked down at you with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, unsure of where this was headed. He could see the conviction behind your eyes, as if you really could see the voyage he’d taken and the trauma he’d been through. It made his hair stand on end.

“I can fix that for you.” You stated calmly and confidently, as if you had all the answers to his questions.

He noticed for the first time that your nails were painted a deep red as you ran them across his kiss-swollen lips.

He smirked at your antics, feeling a break in the haze. “Fix me? Hate to break it to you, doll, but I’m a lost fucking cause. Have been for a while.” He teased with a wink. 

He felt like himself again as he ran a calloused and scarred hand around to your lower stomach, grazing the waistband of your panties. You sucked in a breath when he traced your lips through the delicate fabric, feeling the moisture that had already begun to collect. His lust ratcheted up again at the touch of you and he rubbed himself against you in response. Your nipples were distinct peaks against the flimsy fabric of your nightgown and he yearned to wrap his lips around them and suckle like a newborn to its mother’s. He’d fucking live between your perfect breasts if you’d let him.

“I’m going to give you what you need, Negan. I’ll make you better.” You whispered as he took his turn to devour the flesh of your neck.

He smiled against you, entertained by your idea of pillow talk but not fully comprehending it. He didn’t give a shit what you said at this point. His dick was so fucking hard that he had to bury it inside you soon before he combusted.

“Well, since you’re offering…” He pulled back, eyes locked with yours as he pushed down the straps of your gown. “Let me see that glorious fucking body.”

You allowed him to move the fabric down your figure and over your hips, revealing yourself to him. He immediately attached himself to your tits, both mouth and hands working in tandem. Your hands pulled at his hair, keeping him mounted against you but shuddering away in sensitivity. Negan chased you with his lips, intent on marking you like you had him.

He reached a hand between your bodies, impatient with the pace. His gaze followed every curve and soft line of your body, still in awe of the perfection of your skin. It was flawless. You were flawless. A literal fantasy come to life.

Your hands were soon at his button, releasing the fabric from its hold and working it down his legs. He shed his boots quickly and stepped out of the garment, thankful he’d chosen to go commando. He watched you lick your lips at the sight of him and fuck if that didn’t make his balls tighten.

You sat down on the bed, positioning yourself so that he had a completely unobstructed view of the juncture between your thighs. He instinctually began to tug at himself while you touched yourself beneath your panties, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. He made it to you in two steps, a hand hooking your ankle and jerking you closer. He ripped the fabric away from your body, catching how soaked the material had gotten. You were fully nude now and practically glistening. He could almost see your pussy throb as he got onto his knees. He hovered there for a moment, taking in the scene. Your scent, your touch, hell, even the sound of your soaked channel. He savored it all.

“Negan, please…” You pleaded and damn did it feel fucking amazing to hear you call his name like that.

“You need me, doll?” He let a finger lazily play with your clit, enjoying the way you jumped at the contact.

“Yes, please…” You begged again, unashamed of your neediness. He liked that. He liked seeing you lose your composure. That shit was fueling him.

He relented and sucked harshly at your pulsing bud, his touch unforgiving. His lips kissed you while his tongue tasted you. He explored you, using his fingers to pry you open to his attack. Your thighs clenched around his head as your body arched off the bed. The candles reflected off your skin and he became awestruck by the image.

He fed on you, his appetite for you far from satiated. He welcomed your flavor on his tongue as he probed your opening, teeth nipping at your swollen lips. You yelped and jolted away, but he held you to him. He felt that drunk feeling again as he quite literally immersed himself in you.

“Don’t stop. I’m gonna cum.” You breathed out, head thrown back and hands struggling for purchase against the smooth sheets.

Negan had no intention of stopping. Instead, he doubled his efforts and ravaged you, seeing the prickle of pain flash across your features from his ruthlessness. You continued to hold his head to you as he attempted to drink every drop that poured from your lips.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes…” You chanted as your body rippled and convulsed with tremors. Negan caught every single one with his mouth, his eyes taking in the way you moaned and writhed. Your skin was slick with perspiration, your lungs rapidly taking in air as you slowly came down from your journey to space.

He stood, his whole body tense in untamable lust. He could feel the dribble of precum on his cock, the appendage begging for attention. He wedged himself between your thighs and submerged his cock in your overflowing dampness. He rutted against you, feeling you reach up to catch him in your folds. He dug his fingertips into your thighs as he let his cock nudge your abused clit. You winced at the oversensitivity.

“Fuck, I need to be inside this fucking pussy.” He growled, recognizing the tingle in his spine starting to form.

Negan didn’t wait for a response as he plunged inside of you, groaning at the instant surge of pleasure at finally being able to do so. He felt your heartbeat within your walls as it thrummed against his cock, squeezing him just right. It was as if you were made just for him. The way you hit every one of his nerves in the most delectable way possible made it seem as if you’d been sculpted for him, a genuine counterpart.

“Shit, that is one tight cunt.”

He moved slow and deep, treasuring the sensation of your body so effortlessly enveloping his. His hands were everywhere as your body became his playground. He held your tits, relishing the way they bounced to the rhythm of his hips. He grasped you throat and squeezed as you moaned for more. He took in the way your body so readily accepted his own, your pussy slickening him for his passage. It all felt fucking perfect. Perfect in a way he’d never experienced before.

“More…I need more.” You demanded, trying to reach for him.

Negan was happy to oblige and bent down to hover over your awaiting mouth. Small gasps escaped your throat as he continued to fuck you, the sound like music to his ears and pulsing dick.

“This what you wanted? This enough for you?” He grunted, angling his hips so that he could feel the natural barrier within you. He heard you whine and drag your nails down his back, the depth of his cock making you want to retreat.

“No, no…take it all, doll.” Negan tutted, forcing your body up the bed as he moved. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your teeth digging into his shoulder. The move sent a jolt through his system and he increased his speed. His hips slapped against your roughly, the loud smack of skin echoing throughout the room. He could feel his balls tightening and his limbs tingle. He wasn’t ready for it to end. He wasn’t ready to separate from your warmth just yet.

He straightened up, bringing you with him. Your body was pliable with his movements, letting him maneuver you how he saw fit. He lifted you into his arms, still impaled on him. He captured your mouth, walking to the head of the bed. He situated himself on the mattress, you still cradled in his arms. Without him having the leverage to thrust, you took it upon yourself to slide up and down on his engorged cock. He faltered at the motion, but recovered in time to position you in his lap.

“Ride me. Let that pussy take what she needs.” He nipped at your bottom lip as he encouraged you to move, slapping your ass in the process.

You didn’t hesitate. You wrapped your arms around his neck and bounced, chasing that ethereal high. Negan buried himself in your breasts, feeling that inebriated sensation start to strengthen. He gripped your hips, anchoring himself to something solid. He felt as if he might float away if he didn’t. He felt entirely too warm and the need to cum was more powerful than any other experience he’d had. His vision felt blurry, yet he could make you out perfectly. He could smell you and only you. Not the fire or the lavender anymore. His ears were attuned to your moans and whimpers, but silence lingered outside of that. He felt like he was in a vacuum of your essence, trapped but not wanting to escape.

“Yes, Negan…please cum.” Your words made him thrust up into you, eager to comply with your breathy request. The tell-tale signs were there. He was ready to let go.

Through the fog he belatedly realized he needed to pull out, not wanting to chance it. He readied himself to remove you from his lap when he felt you clamp down and hold him, your intent obvious.

“It’s okay. Do it. Fill me up.” You nibbled on his ear, tongue tracing his lobe as you massaged his cock with your walls. He went to protest, but stopped. The words died on his lips, his body now running the show. He only thought about you and how fucking magnificent you felt. He thought about how good it would feel to smear you in him. To see you leaking and dripping. The thoughts alone were enough to convince him that he should listen to you.

Your finger teased your clit as you rode him, urging him on. Negan gritted his teeth at the feel of your pussy spasming, your entire body ricocheting with the aftershocks. He surrendered to you and released, your pussy greedily taking from him as he tensed in orgasmic bliss. A hum of approval left your lips at the feel of him driving his seed into you, the warmth and stickiness coating you both.

“Fuck,” He cursed as he screwed his eyes shut. He felt like he’d been pumping for hours, the high lasting a lot longer than he’d anticipated. He felt overcome with exhaustion as he collapsed on the bed, your body still a place holder for his now flaccid cock. He looked up at you as you straddled him, a halo of candlelight encompassing you. He panted as he struggled to catch his breath while your nails dragged through his chest hair. You laid your head on his chest near his heart, your body rising in sync with his.

He was drained. Utterly and completely. He adjusted himself beneath you, feeling his cock slip out of you and land heavily between you. You rubbed yourself against him, his cum aiding the movements. His mind said no more, but his body was responding.

“Doll, this old man needs to rest. I think you broke my dick.” He groaned, feeling aches start to settle into his limbs.

You laughed, your body vibrating against his. “Doesn’t feel broken to me.” You quipped as you traced a finger over the twitching member.

He laughed, despite his fatigue and trailed a hand down your naked back. “You’re something else.”

“Good or bad?”

“Can’t decide yet. But my dick points to good.” He joked, liking the throaty laugh you released at his words. He could feel his eyes getting heavy and that distinct lethargy that came with sleep. He didn’t bother to move you from atop him. He liked your weight nuzzled against him, feeling the beat of your heart with his.

“Sleep.” You said into his chest as you placed a soft kiss near his ribs.

Negan nodded, though he was already halfway into his dreams by the time you spoke.

*******************************************

A loud knock jolted him from his slumber.

Negan sat straight up in his bed, eyes dancing around wildly in search of the intruder. He took in his bedroom skeptically, wondering how he’d gotten back.

Another knock sounded, followed by a call from the beyond the door.

“Boss? You in there?”

It was Simon. And he sounded strangely concerned.

Negan stood from his bed, groaning at the protests his sore limbs were giving him. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and thanked whoever the fuck that he at least had clothes on.

He pulled open the door and came to face-to-face with a worried looking Simon. The man’s own remaining hair was somewhat tousled and his mustache looked uncharacteristically unkempt. He looked like he’d been running his hands through it all day, an action Negan knew he didn’t partake in unless he was nervous about something.

“What is it? What happened?” He demanded, knowing there was something he was missing by the look in his friend’s eye.

He waited as Simon seemed to take him in, appearing to be relieved by his presence. The whole thing was making Negan feel weird.

“You okay? We were worried about you.” The man finally admitted, hand back in his thick moustache.

Negan arched a brow in question. “Worried? Why?”

“Its past noon. You never sleep this late. We didn’t hear from you and got nervous something happened.” He explained, gaze still inspecting Negan closely.

Negan widened his eyes at Simon’s words, not believing what he was saying was true. He raced to his nightstand and grabbed his watch, feeling a sense of déjà vu. The timepiece read back 12:15. It was still working and didn’t appear to have stopped at any point during the night.

He looked back at Simon, perplexed by his unexplained tardiness. He was just about to question his friend more about it when he remembered the previous night. The memories came flooding in like a busted dam. He saw you in that damn nightgown. The cabin in the woods. You riding his dick like a fucking prized pony. It all soared to the surface and through the fog that still littered his mind and body.

“What the fuck happened?” He mumbled to himself as he rubbed at a particularly sore spot on his shoulder. Had to be where you fucking bit him.

“You good, Boss? Need anything?” Simon interrupted from his spot in the doorway.

Negan went to dismiss him, but thought better of it and nodded. “Yeah, find me that girl from the marketplace. The one with all the lotions and shit.”

He waited for a yes sir from his right hand man, but never got one. He met Simon’s confused gaze and went to describe you further when the Savior spoke up.

“What girl? I don’t know anyone like that.”

Negan sighed, trying hard not to take his mounting frustration out on his friend. “Yeah you do, shithead. You bought some lotion from her for your bum shoulder.”

At his blank stare, he continued.

“I spoke to her yesterday. You were fucking there. Struggling to flirt with Meredith at the table with all the shitty DVDs.” Negan explained, attempting to jog Simon’s memory. It didn’t seem to be working.

“We didn’t go to the market yesterday.”

“Yeah, we fucking did.”

“No. I was at The Kingdom yesterday while you went to the northeast outpost.”

Negan shook his head, unable to comprehend what Simon was saying. There was no way that was true. He remembered it as clear as day. He remembered you. Simon had to be wrong. And Negan was going to prove it to him.

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Simon asked, that worry gaze back and aimed squarely on him.

Negan waved him away, searching his room for his boots, jacket, and Lucille. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Simon hesitated, but he could see that Negan wanted to be alone so he complied.

Negan checked the calendar on his desk, his diligence when crossing off the days a daily ritual. He found the last day that was crossed out.

Halloween.

He wasn’t tripping fucking balls. He had his days right. Now he just had to find you.

**************************************

One month later…

Negan rubbed tiredly at his eyes, wishing he’d worn his reading glasses. He sat at his desk, studying the maps of each community who fell under his territory. It was late and he’d been staring at the goddamn things for hours, though the action was pointless. He wasn’t focused. Hadn’t been since that day a month ago.

He’d never found you.

Thirty days later and there still wasn’t any sign of you, your booth at the market, or your cabin in the woods. He’d had men out looking. Chasing a fucking ghost.

No one knew of you. No one had any recollection of you. Except for him. And it was fucking torture.

You were his elusive seductress, his enchantress. You were all he could think about. You dominated his thoughts, his dreams. Sometimes he felt as if he could still feel you beneath his fingertips. Hear the melodic tune of your pulse against his. A random breeze of lavender would sweep over him, carried by the wind. But you never materialized.

He knew he hadn’t made you up. He knew you weren’t some sort of fever dream. He’d had the marks on his skin to prove it. Scratches down his back, bites along his neck and chest, and the sore limbs from hours of fucking to prove it.

But the more days that passed, the more his memory failed him. His mental image of you faded over time, along with the bruises and scratches that littered his flesh. You were becoming lost in the everyday bustle and he didn’t know how to stop it. He had to give up searching for you, fearing his followers would start to think he was losing his fucking mind. His men already thought so. Simon practically had a straitjacket picked out for him.

All he could do was keep an eye out for you when he went beyond the fences. He searched everywhere, under the guise he was looking for supplies. It was pathetic really. He didn’t even know your fucking name.

His watch beeped from beside him, alerting him to the new hour.

12:00 am.

He decided to turn in for the night, done with tormenting himself. He stood up and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop of several joints as he did. He made his way to the window to take one last cursory glance to ensure everything was as it should be. He noticed something odd immediately. He felt like he did that night…wired but sluggish. It was a combination he could never forget.

Looking out into the night he realized how dark and empty the sky was, save for the new full moon that spotlighted the earth. Negan’s whole body went stiff as he searched for his guards. He couldn’t see anyone. It was dead silent.

A sudden warmth filled his body and a tingle started at the base of his toes. It was pleasant and started to move up each limb. He found himself succumbing to it, eyes rolling back the stronger it got. Suddenly and without warning, a crippling pain overtook his entire body. His bones felt like they were breaking and extending to unbearable lengths. His skin felt stretched and pulled tight, fighting to cover his expanding body. He yelled out in pain as his spine broke through his shirt and his legs jutted out of his pants. Long black fur soon covered every surface of him while his hands turned to oversized paws with jagged talons. His face felt like it was being seared off as it contorted into new features.

He collapsed to the floor on his knees, unable to take the agony. Simultaneously, his mind began to piece together the forgotten fragments. He saw you clearly once again as he relived your moments together. He saw your first conversation and the time at the cabin. He saw him worshipping your body over and over again throughout the night, your sweat-laced bodies slicking against each other. He saw your mind and the plans you had for him.

He saw everything.

“I can fix that for you.”

“I can give you what you need, Negan.”

“I’ll make you better.”

Your voice echoed in his ears, your true meaning now apparent. He felt a swell of testosterone rush through his veins, the appetite for blood suddenly all-consuming. He sniffed the air, smelling nothing but lavender. He growled, his hair standing on end as he felt you get nearer. 

You were here and you’d come to collect.

He hunched on all fours, the pose feeling natural to him in this state. Unbridled lust mixed with frenzied rage, making his mouth salivate. His teeth were larger in size and sharper, his tongue running over them hungrily. The moon shone itself in his room and he instinctually howled. He felt a pull towards the window, outside the walls of the factory. He didn’t stop to think. He only acted. He rushed the window and burst through, scaling the wall as he made his way down to the ground. He landed on his hind legs, standing up straight to scent the air. Beyond the trees he could see a plume of smoke.

The cabin.

You were calling for him…waiting. And as he ran towards you, human nature now erased by animalistic instincts, he heard your final words to him from that night ring in his head.

“I’m going to give you what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be your true form. And I’ll be your true mate. By the light of the moon, you’ll fulfill your true fate.”

[voxlette11]

Eric and Leo, Finale

Two high-powered businessmen learn what it means to play with experimental drugs.

A/N: This is a re-post of something I originally authored in 2013/14 on Mpreg Central under the username BellLee (BellLee11) - I can’t remember because I lost my login info and access to the forums once permission regulations changed!

Content: unknowing mpreg, lactation, birth, accelerated pregnancy

Eighteen Weeks After Conception

…

Leo was huge, and Eric was completely in love with him for it. He followed him secretly every now and then throughout the day, not only out of paternal investment, but also out of personal curiosity and gratification. How did Leo get his daily duties done with a belly that looked like an oversized beach ball? How did he maintain his balance? How did other people look at his monstrosity of a gut? 

The other day Leo had dropped a pen in the hallway and struggled to get low enough to actually reach it; he’d had to spread his legs and slowly squat to even consider the possibility. He carried things now by partially balancing them on the top of the notable mound. He had to, there was no room in his arms otherwise.

His gait had changed markedly over the past weeks, Eric had noted. In the beginning, Leo’s pregnancy hadn’t affected his bodily movements very much and everything had been very much the same. But as the pregnancy progressed, Leo’s hips seemed to take on a cross between a sway and a waddle while in motion – in fact, Eric would say it almost appeared as if they were marginally widening with each passing week, for each passing week the waddle/sway was getting more and more pronounced.

Carrying his belly put a lot of strain on him, curving his back sharply at the bottom. This forced the small man to throw his front load forward and his head and shoulders backward in an attempt to even out his taxing weight distribution.

This was not the only change. 

In addition to his growing belly, Leo had also started growing small breasts. Eric had noted them in full for the first time four weeks ago, when the brunet had complained that they were aching. Eric had assumed the accumulating breast tissue was just a side effect of Leo’s additional weight gain, but it turned out they were something much more utilitarian.

Eric had straddled the small man’s thighs in bed, leaning over Leo and rubbing at his swollen, pink nipples with large, dexterous fingers. He tugged and smoothed, turned and twisted. And that’s when they both discovered that Leo was producing milk in his mammaries.

“What the hell is that?” Leo asked quizzically, looking seriously concerned about his body for the first time since his morning sickness went away.

Thinking quickly, Eric supplied, “You’ve had a lot of body changes these past few months, yeah? It’s got to do with your hormones. Too much of them, and then this stuff starts happening.”

Leo seemed to mull this information over in his head, and Eric waited apprehensively for his response.

I don’t want this to be over so soon…

“Hormones, you said?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh…well, whatever you’re doing, it feels like a fucking miracle so keep it up.”

“You got it.”

And so, added to their routine, was a daily “milking”. If Leo went too long without stimulation, his small breasts got so uncomfortable he couldn’t focus on his work. Eventually, to save time, Eric bought a milk pump. They used it together often, Leo sometimes alone. It was the perfect opportunity, really, because Eric secretly took what was produced and froze it in storage. He figured by the time the baby was born, Leo might not want to feed it himself 24/7. Any new mother appreciated a respite, and that’s where a generous store of milk came in handy.

Eric also used these opportunities to feel out the baby, limbs, arms, the head. He liked to know where the baby was positioned, though judging by how hard it was for Leo to catch his breath and how often he went to the restroom, Eric figured the baby was compressing his lungs and sitting right on his bladder. Sometimes, he felt kicks, a fluttering against his large hand, to which Leo would grunt and say, “Gas.”

But that was four weeks ago. Now that Leo was, biologically, thirty six weeks pregnant, it seemed it was easier for him to breathe. That meant, according to what Eric had read, that the baby was descending into the pelvis, preparing for its imminent birth. This was in sync with Leo complaining of discomfort in his pelvis, and he was endlessly shifting around while stationary, trying in vain to make himself comfortable. Also, Leo’s nipples were widening, darkening, the same shade as the line on his belly. Easier for the baby to see. He had taken to small unconscious nesting behaviors, like organizing his closet and asking Eric to help him clean his modest apartment in the Bronx. 

Eric had only two more weeks to wait.

…

Twenty Four Weeks After Conception

…

The baby had not yet arrived. It was three weeks late, which meant that, biologically, Leo was carrying a baby ten months and two weeks at term. This worried Eric. There was an important merger going on at the company, the joining of two firms coming to a crux, and he hadn’t had much time to spend with Leo one-on-one as they liked. He had especially wanted to keep a close eye on the smaller man as his due date approached, particularly because Eric was the only one who knew what was actually happening to him. But both their busy schedules meant they rarely crossed paths, and neither of them had spent more than ten minutes with the other in weeks.

Eric could tell that Leo was reaching the limits of his physical capacity. His clothes bordered on the unprofessional, they were drawn so tightly across and around him. His belly, apparently having reached its limit for outward growth a few weeks ago, began bulging and expanding at the sides. He really was beginning to physically resemble a ball, a ball that could barely walk and function as a normal human being.

Eric got out of his meeting early, and decided to go check on the other man. He walked down to Leo’s floor, but when he got to Leo’s desk, the pregnant man wasn’t there.

“Excuse me,” he stopped a passing clerical worker. “But why isn’t Leo in today?”

“Oh, him?” the woman nodded. “He called in sick today. Why? Did he miss something big?”

No, but I might be missing something big right now…literally.

Eric was filled at once with a healthy sense of fear and giddy excitement. Could this be the day? 

“No, no everything’s fine. Thank you. Excuse me,” Eric dismissed the woman and rushed to the elevator.

Please, please wait for me.

He caught a cab and paid the driver extra to get to Leo’s place in half the time. Quickly, he buzzed into the building via the doorman and climbed the stairs to the third floor himself because the elevator seemed like too slow an option. Hands shaking with excitement, Eric pulled out his key ring and found the spare to Leo’s apartment. 

He opened the door.

…

Leo hadn’t felt like getting out of bed that day. He had the energy, but something had felt off for some reason. A sense of some impending force. He supposed a lot of it had to do with the stress he was putting up with at work, mental, emotional, and physical. He considered himself a hard worker, but everyone needed an off day. He figured he might as well take this one as a freebie for himself.

He had been getting strange, shooting sensations down his legs ever since the pressure in his pelvis had appeared around four weeks ago. He was having difficulty sleeping, leaking nipples, swollen ankles, itchy stretching skin, and still insatiable hunger. The flutterings were the strongest they’d ever been, sometimes actually managing to take his breath away. He was generally uncomfortable. And last week, he’d had a serious internal freak out when he’d pulled off his boxer briefs and found the insides coated with some sort of slightly bloody, mucous discharge. He’d brushed it off because he hadn’t felt any different, and it didn’t happen again.

Now, however, he felt different.

As of that morning, he’d been getting low, strange, dully painful tightenings that started in his back and worked their way around to the front of him, reverberating up to his belly button. His prostrate was being stimulated somehow in all of this, and he was harder than he’d been in weeks. The strange sensation had happened more than once, each time getting slightly longer in duration and the frequency increasing but a few minutes.

He lounged on the bed, naked. Nightclothes were more of a hassle than they were worth. He stared at the ceiling, wishing something would happen to break the tedium of his boredom. 

Then, the bedroom door opened, and there stood Eric. Leo smiled to himself.

Perfect.

…

Leo was a sight to behold, laying naked on top of his sleep-rumpled bed sheets. Eric hadn’t seen him naked in weeks, and just looking at him made the blond go half-hard. His belly was obscenely fecund, arcing away from his spine in a practically violent fashion. His abdomen demanded attention, the straining skin obviously struggling to contain the child within. The baby was low, Eric could see that even with Leo laying down. His abdomen bulged more and more dramatically as it got closer to his groin, taking on a torpedo-like shape. Leo’s breasts were still small, but they were pert and perched atop the great swell like little decorative afterthoughts. His bellybutton looked abused, red and swollen, five times its normal size by some strange feat of the body. His cock, too, was erect and pressing against the curvaceous underside of his mound.

Eric breathed a sigh of relief. Leo looked ready to burst, but he wasn’t in labor. Yet.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the room. “I heard you were sick. Came over to make sure you were okay.”

Leo waved away his worries.

“Nah,” the brunet said, “I just…felt…strange today was all. I couldn’t bring myself to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah…,” Leo trailed off, then looked slyly to the side. 

“So,” he began, “I’m pretty bored here…you want to make this day a little more interesting?”

Eric's cock stiffened eagerly to its full length.

"Of course," he said.

He climbed onto the bed, parting Leo's legs himself. He wrapped one hand completely around each swollen ankle and lifted them up onto his shoulders, Leo making little grunting noises of discomfort as he did so. The tops of Leo's thighs were pressed against the torpedoing slope of his abdomen and there was little room for proper maneuvering. The sides of his belly spilled over their natural limits, and up close Eric was mesmerized by the rhythmic rise and fall of that enormous bellybutton as Leo breathed.

"Well?" The brunet motioned. "You gonna fuck me or sit there?"

Eric smiled and released his cock from his pants.

"I'm going to fuck you," and he pushed inside without any lubrication. He didn't need any. Leo was incredibly loose, looser than he'd been in his entire life. Eric wouldn't have been surprised if he could fit the entirety of his massive hand into the small man's asshole.

He thrust into him deeply, sheathing and unsheathing the whole of his gargantuan width and length, relishing the sight of that small puckered anus expanding and contracting with his cock.

Eric put his hands on Leo's belly, and Leo moaned, lifting his own smaller hands to hang onto the headboard in his ecstasy. Eric felt all over and he thrust, his hands feeling out where the baby's head was situated, sitting right in Leo's groin.

"I'm so full," Leo moaned, and Eric was set into a frenzy.

He began pounding away like crazy, rocking the frame of the bed with each thrust, watching Leo's cock as it quivered and strained for its release. A glance up and he saw that the small man's breasts were leaking, apparently he had not milked himself today. The swollen, dark, erect nipples were dribbling milk down the sides of Leo's chest, and he didn't even seem to be noticing because he was in such a state of ecstasy.

"Ahh...ahhh...right there, Eric, fuck..." Leo's hips rolled, or rolled as well as they could manage under his massive load.

Eric helped him, catching him under the ass and driving his cock even deeper. Leo's thighs were compressed against his belly with each thrust, and he was grunting over and over again with the force of the impact.

"I'm...hngh...going to-" Leo's cock exploded, spraying cum all over his belly. His hands scrabbled for purchase at the headboard, his voice keening, his toes curling. At the same instant, Eric unwittingly breached some sort of stopper, a plug located deep in the reaches of Leo's interior. Leo gasped, and Eric saw the great surface of his belly visibly tighten and shift, it was moving, and moreover it was moving the general direction of downwards and out. Leo's insides contracted like a vice, pulling Eric's orgasm from him, pump after pump after pump of cum.

Eric felt something else on his cock in the depths of Leo, his cum churning around his penile organ. A peculiar wetness, one not caused by his own fluids.

"Oh...," Leo's voice.

When Leo's interior loosened, Eric withdrew himself, as he did so he could feel Leo's body preparing to tense up again. When the head of Eric's cock exited Leo's anus, a strange milky stream of cum and some other fluid came out after it.

Leo had been fucked into labor.

…

Leo was in a thrill, enjoying the sensation of being filled, of being pounded into so roughly again and again. He could feel his cock struggling to release, and as he felt Eric brush past a point he rarely managed to push past, his orgasm was fucked out of him.

That's when it happened.

Something gave inside of him, something he heard quietly give a singular popping noise, and the aching pain from before seized him. But this time it was more intense. Intense enough to be actually uncomfortable. His belly tightened, but this time there was the distinct impression of something inside of him being moved. A flurry of the flutterings started up, battering his insides.

Meanwhile Eric was releasing inside of him, a massive load of cum, and Leo could feel it expanding within his interior as his semen-stuffed bowels contracted.

"Oh..." he said, unsure and surprised. He had never felt anything like this before.

He felt Eric leave him, but something else was coming out of his ass. Something unusual. It was wet, it was a steady stream, and it was soaking through the sheets on his bed. It had been mere seconds and already the fluid was seeping up into the linen under his back.

“Eric,” Leo made an attempt to right himself, but the gravity of his belly was too much. “Eric,” he continued to struggle. “What is that? Can you see that? What the fu-ohhhhhh...”

A great, sharp pain had worked its way through him, speared him through the bellybutton. A huge flutter, no, a pounding, followed shortly thereafter directly on top of his bladder. It took all of Leo’s self-control to keep his piss in. His hands went to hold his belly in confusion, his short arms unable to encompass its girth, reaching uselessly for the origin point of the tremor.

Eric got there first, since Leo couldn’t even reach that far. Eric’s hands were cold on his orgasm-heated abdomen, an almost welcoming feeling amidst the pain. Leo winced through another, this one starting low in his thighs, curling around his hips, twisting around his navel, and shooting up his spine. Leo swore he saw his girth actually move, the fecund mass making a slight push outwards, then sliding down deeper into his pelvis. There was a mounting pressure everywhere and anywhere beneath his ribs, and the matter of releasing that pressure seemed to be getting more urgent with each passing second.

“Eric,” Leo grimaced. “What’s happening…?”

…

This was it. This was the moment. Eric had debated with himself how this would play out over and over again, but now that they had actually gotten to this point he only had three words to say:

“You’re pregnant, Leo.”

There was a moment of stunned disbelief, something that did not happen to Leo often. In fact, Eric could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually managed to surprise him. Now he got to use the other hand, too, by the looks of it.

“…What.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I know what you fu-raARGH,” Leo’s belly tensed under Eric’s fingers, the baby shifting downwards inside. After thirty seconds of breathless panting, all the while staring at Eric with burning intensity, the brunet continued.

“I know what you said,” he winced periodically. “But I can’t be pregnant. That’s…urgh…that’s-ARGHHH…impossible…”

Eric traced a finger up that dark, bisecting, now shivering line on Leo’s abdomen before speaking.

“Not for the right amount of cash.”

“I-I don’t…,” Leo’s belly heaved, “How?”

Eric began rubbing in circular motions on the small man’s pitifully swollen side.

“I put it in your drink. You told me you wanted to know what it was like to carry a baby. I told you I wanted kids. You remember.”

“Well, yes,” Leo grunted, unable to even prop himself up to look Eric in the eyes. “But I didn’t know you could actually do it. You should have told me, you fucking basta-ohhhhhhhh...”

His blue eyes screwed shut, riding through the pain Eric could physically see and feel in his contracting abdominal muscles.

Eric leaned forward and planted a kiss on the slope of Leo’s gut.

“I would have,” he explained, planting another kiss, further up the massive, now-glistening dome. “But I didn’t tell you that I, too, have a secret fantasy…to watch a man who didn’t know he was pregnant…,” another kiss, this time directly on top of that swollen knob of a belly button. “…give birth.”

Leo panted and huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Well, you fucking did it,” he groaned. “…I guess…it’s nice to know…uuuunnnghhhhhHHH…I’m not fat.”

“The baby should be coming out soon,” Eric assured him. “It’ll all be over. The supplier said the births were usually pretty fast. An hour, about.”

“God, I hope so.”

…

Five Hours Later

…

The baby wasn’t coming out. In fact, after the initial induction of labor, it appeared that it hadn’t made any progress at all. Leo was in agony. His breasts were still leaking milk, and sweat ran from every pore in his body. Eric was there to rehydrate him, but that was a small comfort to the aching, consuming pain which had become his body.

The hours passed slowly, and Leo had long since given himself over to his natural urges, trying to push the baby out but to no avail.

“We might not be in this situation if I had known I was pregnant,” Leo had said pointedly, when he still had energy, about three hours past. 

“But Leo,” Eric had replied, “Where would you have gone? Men don’t get pregnant.”

And Leo had known he was right. Still, he needed to take his agony out on something, and the person who got him impregnated him just so happened to be the closest conduit for his pain-induced rage.

Leo was past the point of rage, and he was starting to get desperate.

“Check me,” he whined. “Please, please, check me.”

Eric nodded, his stamina running low as well, and he parted Leo’s legs further than they already were so he could shove his fingers into the ever-loosening asshole. 

Leo winced, biting back a cry of pain and discomfort, keening as inside of him Eric’s fingers brushed against what they had concluded was fulfilling the role of a cervix.

“It hasn’t dilated any further,” Eric reported, withdrawing his hand. Leo choked on a wistful sob.

This is never going to end.

Eric had not left the space between Leo’s legs, however.

“What are you doing?”

“I have an idea. If fucking was what brought this on, maybe…?”

Leo understood perfectly.

“Do it,” he said, “Just fucking do it.”

I’m willing to try anything.

He felt Eric push inside of him for the second time that day, this time even less noticeably than the last. His anus had been stretched beyond comprehension. In fact, he didn’t even feel anything inside of him until Eric’s cock began to brush against his cervix. It took a considerable amount of work and leverage to get there. Eric’s hands were once again under Leo’s ass, lifting him on a sloping plane above the bed. The gravity of his belly was slipping towards his head, the baby inside not taking kindly to the disturbance of it’s hard work. Kicks pummeled Leo’s lungs and intestines, bowing out the thin membrane of his abdomen. It was not a pleasant sensation.

“Ready?”

Leo nodded, and Eric began.

With each thrust, Eric’s cock connected with the cervix. Shooting, agonizing pain radiated from the area, and Leo began to cry in earnest. 

“It hurts,” he cried, “It hurts!”

Still, Eric pounded away, determined to fuck his plan into action. Each thrust was accompanied by a kick, and Leo could scarcely breathe. Eric’s thrusts were getting longer, choppier, with each subsequent kick or contraction. It wasn’t long before he exploded inside of Leo once more, coating his cervix with yet another bucket of cum. Again, Eric withdrew, setting Leo’s ass back on the bed.

Leo waited. Nothing.

“It didn’t-ohooOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!” Slowly and then all at once, he could feel changes inside of him. The pressure mounted, it came to such a head that Leo was sure his hips would split and his belly would split open like a bean cooked too long in a microwave. Instead, warm piss dribbled from between his thighs. His cock, once his bladder had been evacuated, slowly sprung to attention as his prostate began to register the stimulation. A burning, stretching, un-ignorable sensation began to take a hold in his ass.

This was it.

…

Eric watched as Leo gripped and grappled with himself, grasped onto his shiny, sweating, heavy heaving belly as if it were a lifeline. All at once, the mass within Leo moved downwards, bowing out the expanse of skin that covered the area between his bellybutton and his groin. Leo screamed.

“It’s coming, it’s coming,” he cried hysterically.

Eric could see Leo’s anus begin to widen preliminarily, for there was no head in view. He positioned himself between Leo’s legs once more, this time prepared to help their child into the world. But the minutes passed slowly, and still there was no sign of the baby.

“Are you pushing?”

“Of course I’m-NNNNNNNRRGGGHHHHHHAHHH!-pushing!” Leo wiggled his hips marginally, trying desperately to eject the mass of their child. “I’m trying, it’s impossible!”

“Nothing’s impossible!”

“I can’t do it,” Leo sobbed. “It’s too big. My hips…uuuuuuuuughhhHHH…my hips are too small to pass it.” 

“I…”

“You’re a giant! I’m the size of a fucking ten-year-old, what did you THINK was going to happen!?” Leo screamed again, yet another useless contraction hardening the surface of his fecund gut. “You’ve killed me. I’m going to die…”

Eric was frightened, and then he grew angry. Angry at himself, angry at the situation, and angry at Leo for giving up so easily. He grabbed Leo’s hips, and while supporting his back, gave a savage twist so that Leo was laboring on his side. He held Leo’s legs wide open, one small leg propped on his shoulder at the knee, the other held still under his giant hand. Leo’s anus and now fully erect cock were exposed.

Leo cried out at the unexpected movement, looking at Eric in shock.

“What are you doing?! Have you gone fucking insane?!” he shrilled.

“Push.”

“I can’t do anything like this!”

“PUSH.”

Leo, tired and ready to try anything despite his earlier premonitions of failure, did as Eric bid. The blond watched the small man’s face turn pink, then red, then a dark shade of purple as he tensed each and every one of his muscles. Leo’s fingers dug into the soiled sheets and gripped at the headboard so tightly his nails turned white.

“Breathe. BREATHE.”

Leo beathed.

“Push.”

“I…I can’t…”

“PUSH.”

Leo pushed again, and slowly, slowly, the mass moved further downwards. The tiniest bulge began to form in his anus as the baby came down his canal.

“It hurts,” he sobbed, “It hurts so fucking ba-AAAAAHHHHHHH!” Leo’s hands went to grasp his belly, arms wrapped around it as if folding in on himself would make the pain go away.

“Eric,” he began again, “Eric, help me, help me, please. Make it stop…”

“Push.”

“Eric-“

“PUSH.”

The bulge was now sizable, a part of the baby’s head showing through an orange-sized opening. But that was it. The skin of Leo’s anus was stretched to practical transparency around it, in danger of tearing. If he tore, it could mean a lot of trouble for all three of them. Eric made a snap decision, and cupped his hand over the opening as Leo struggled.

“Hold it.”

“But you said you wanted-“

“HOLD IT.”

“NNNNNNNGGHHHHHHHAHHH!” was Leo’s only response, crying out as a contraction gripped him once more. His pushing now was involuntary, a natural instinct. Eric felt the top of the baby’s head push out slightly against his palm.

“HOLD IT.”

“AaaAHHHHAHH!”

Eric checked the skin around Leo’s anus – it seemed to be stretching fine.

“Push!”

Leo didn’t need to be told. He pushed, over and over again, and sliver by sliver the baby’s head became visible. But it was too big. Eric used his fingers to pull the skin over the head, pulling and pushing at it with the heel of his hand.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHNN!”

With a ‘slup’ and a great gush of pre-natal fluids, the head was free.

“The head’s out! Leo, the head’s out! You’re doing so good!” 

Eric lay a hand on Leo’s laboring belly, still sizable but less so now that the head was no longer inside. 

“Come on! One last big one!”

Leo’s hands dug into the sheets, and with one final cry the body slipped out, and Leo’s noises of pain comingled with the disgruntled wails of a newborn. His belly now looked deflated, empty, but loose like a leather bag that had once been over-stuffed.

Eric took the child gently in his arms, clearing the nose and mouth of natal debris, cutting the cord with a shoelace.

Leo was still lying on his side, panting, eyes closed. He was okay. He wasn’t bleeding.

Eric walked to the head of the bed, laying the infant between the two of them.

“Look,” he said softly, “Leo, look at our daughter.”

…

Leo opened his eyes, and met those of the biggest and most beautiful baby he’d ever seen.

“Our…,” he reached out a trembling hand, taking gentle hold of the still crying baby. He drew her close to his chest, where after gentle prodding she began to suckle.

He gaze met Eric’s, and he couldn’t recall a time or place where the blond had looked at him quite so lovingly.

“You’re lucky she looks like you,” he said, angry having melted away at the arrival of their own personal miracle.

Eric smiled, “What do you mean? She’s got your hair.” He reached a hand forward, smoothing Leo’s sweaty dark locks away from his forehead.

“You know what I mean,” Leo replied, going back to watching their daughter as she fed. “She’s a little big, isn’t she?”

Eric laughed. “Well, she should be. Technically she’s a month old.”

“Fuck, me. Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Forget about the ‘fuck, me’, I’m changing it to fuck you.”

Eric just laughed harder, and despite his aches, the lingering contractions as he delivered the afterbirth, and his complete exhaustion, Leo laughed too.

“How many of these did you want?” he asked, once they’d both calmed down.

“Three.”

“Three?! You’re doing them. I’m never doing this again. I’ll knock you up.” 

“Leo…”

“What?”

“…it only works on guys under 150 pounds.”

“…fuck.”

[magicjesuscup]

FGO Fic 1

Summary: I didn’t like the way the first part of Fate/Grand Order ended, so I fixed it.

Pairing: female master x Romani Archaman

Warnings: Spoilers for Solomon, mention of death, depiction of depression and grief

Notes: The only reason I say female master is because of some pronouns; if you can ignore those you can read it as a male master. This is SFW. I also wanted to throw Hans in this because it looks like he’ll be the first servant I get to bond 10.

Please don’t repost, but feel free to reblog with comments; it’s a lot easier to see feedback when it’s not in the tags. Replying and/or likes are also valid. :)

I was lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling when I heard the door open. There were quite a few servants who never knocked, so I wasn’t sure who it was until he spoke.

A deep voice that couldn’t have belonged to anyone but Hans Christian Andersen inquired, “Why aren’t you at the party?”

As I considered his question, I rolled Roman’s gold ring between my thumb and pointer finger. It was a little cold since I was wearing it on a chain around my neck. It was strange to me that after Roman returned his rings to god, god took Roman rather than the rings. That was backwards, wasn’t it? It did give me something to remember him by, but I would have preferred to have taken Roman back with me.“I don’t feel like celebrating.”

“Saving humanity is an accomplishment. When I finish a manuscript, I do a victory lap around Chaldea completely naked; you could stand to gloat at least a little.”

That was probably intended to make me laugh. Normally, it would’ve worked to some degree, but today, it failed to make me crack a smile. “I didn’t defeat Goetia. Roman did.” I closed my fist around the doctor’s ring and brought my hand down to my chest.

Hans sighed. Time for a different approach. “I need help finishing it.”

“Finishing what?” My voice was flat and empty.

I saw him cross his arms over his chest in the corner of my eye. “Your story. I told you I was going to write it, remember?”

“Aren’t gruesome tragedies more Shakespeare’s genre?”

“I wrote it for children, so I took a few creative liberties with it.”

It was my turn to sigh. However, I knew there was no way to talk my way out of it. I pushed myself into a sitting position and moved my legs over the side of the bed. “Alright. Let me take a look.”

Hans puffed his chest out, probably proud that he was the only person in Chaldea to succeed in getting me out of bed. “It’s in the other room.” He was already headed for the door.

I sighed again and dragged myself to my feet. I hadn’t eaten much in the past few days, but my body felt heavier than ever. My feet dragged across the floor as I followed the tiny man. At first glance, the hallway seemed deserted. I was a little relieved everyone was busy with the party; I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone. All I wanted was to give Hans some feedback or suggestions to end the interaction as soon as possible and return to my bed. Maybe I’d switch things up and try laying in the fetal position for a while. On my way to where Hans was leading me, I felt the presence of some servants I had bonded strongly with lingering in the hallway just outside my bedroom. Knowing I didn’t want company, they must’ve taken spirit form so they could stay close. I was sure they wanted to make me feel better. However, I was also certain they either didn’t know how or already knew there was nothing they could do. My heart felt like it was being pinched. I tried to ignore it as I finally turned into the room where Hans left the book. I stopped in the doorway. What the hell was this? All seven grails I had acquired in each singularity I corrected was placed in a large circle in the middle of the room. At the center of the circle was a book. Well, the book wasn’t in the exact center; it was closer to the grails from America, Camelot, and Babylonia. “How bored were you?”

His response was a small grunt to let me know he had heard me. After a few seconds of silence, it was apparent he didn’t intend to give me an explanation for this strange set up.

I walked into the grail circle, sat with my legs crossed, and pulled the book into my lap. It was red with a gold spine and boarder. The book also had a blue gem on the lock. However, the thing that stood out about it most was its weight. “How long is this?” I asked, dismayed.

Hans rolled his eyes. “Just skip to page 5,062. You’ll need to read the last page or so, so you can help me with the rest.”

As I flipped through the pages, I noticed some illustrations of servants who had helped me throughout the singularities. That would’ve been another thing that would normally have made me smile. Today, though, I felt no comfort. When I finally found the page I was looking for, I began to read.

’It was Ritsuka’s-’

I took my eyes off the book and turned my attention to Hans. “Who’s Ritsuka?”

“You. The name change was one of my creative liberties.” He considered me carefully. “Does it bother you?” It looked as though he was thinking about changing it right then and there.

“No, it’s fine.” My voice was still devoid of emotion, but not because I was secretly disappointed. I was just tired. I had been tired for days. I returned to reading.

‘It was Ritsuka’s indomitable spirit that saw her through saving humanity, and it was this same spirit of hers that called her to move forward. She was no fool. She knew well what was possible and what was not. Solomon, and Romani Archaman by extension, had been permanently removed from history. However, he continued to exist through her.

The sound of metal hitting tile rang through the room as Ritsuka placed each of Solomon’s grails around her in a circle. If the greater grail was capable of reincarnating a heroic spirit, then surly seven grails would be enough to create a human vessel resembling Romani to house her memories of him. He had been dead for days, but she had a year’s worth of memories. She could still picture him clearly. She remembered the sound of his voice, his enthusiasm for his favorite internet idol, the brilliance he displayed while analyzing situations and enemies to keep her safe, the way he frequently pulled all-nighters completely dedicated to seeing her though the grand order, the way he smiled when she finally returned, the way he held her in his arms when they finally found a moment alone, and too many mannerisms and quirks to list in writing.

With her task complete, she stood among the grails holding Solomo’s ring. Normally, the sacrifice of six to seven servants was required in order to trigger its wish granting mechanism. Despite having enough willing servants, she decided to use the ring as a catalyst instead. Surely a ring from god would be sufficient. She dropped it into the nearest grail.’

The text stopped there. I looked up at Hans. My heart was pounding for what felt like the first time in centuries. “Will that really work?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, the story isn’t finished. What will you do? What happens next?” Hans walked to me, took the book, and returned to where he was standing outside the circle. When he looked at me again, there was an intense curiosity in his eyes. “Show me how this story ends.”

I moved my hands to my necklace and unclasped it. Holding the gold ring, I slid the chain way from it. I pushed the chain into my pocket with my left hand as I dropped the ring into the grail I obtained from Babylonia with my right hand. Having spent so much time in the age of gods, I figured it would be the most likely to react. And react it did. After mere seconds, it began spewing black smoke. The grail from the Camelot singularity began doing the same, only its smoke was red. This continued for each grail until the grail from Orleans released its green smoke.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as the smoke began to mix and form a column on the other side of the circle. Some patches of the smoke flashed a lighter color as if lightning was running through it. It ended suddenly when all of the smoke turned into a white fog. When the mist cleared, a man resembling Romani stood looking at the palms of his hands. I watched, paralyzed where I sat, as he turned his hands over and proceeded to press them to his chest as if he couldn’t believe he was physically there.

I got to my feet. “Roman?” It was hard to breathe. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to ask, “Are you really there?”

Roman’s green eyes turned to me. He looked down at himself briefly as if he was checking before he answered, “I think so.”

My legs were trembling as I walked over to him. I cupped his face in my hands. His cheeks were soft and warm. My vision blurred as tears began to gather.

Roman bent over a bit so he could rest his forehead against mine. His voice was low and calm, and I could hear his smile in his tone. “Thank you for surviving and coming back.”

I pulled him into a hug and proceeded to ugly cry into his shoulder. The odds of me forming a sentence right then and there were exactly zero, but at least I felt like I could breathe again.

Romani held me tightly until I calmed down. When my gross sobs had reduced to mere sniffles, he gently pulled himself away so he could see my red eyes and tear streaked face. He looked at me with affection and concern. “Do you want to lay down for a while? You look like you could use some rest.”

I felt a little light headed; my scant diet from the past few days had finally caught up to me. I shook my head and opened my mouth to answer, but my stomach responded for me with a bear-like growl.

He laughed. It was the best sound in the world. “Well, the party’s still going on; they probably still have some food left. Why don’t we go down there and see?” His gloves became damp as he dried my tears.

I closed my eyes and nodded. I felt his lips brush against the bridge of my nose. The door suddenly creaked opened. My eyes snapped open and both Romani and I whipped our heads towards the source of the sound. We saw Hans’s silhouette in the doorway. His back was to us. I was grateful for that because he was completely naked. He proceeded to throw his hands in the air and bolt down the hallway.

“Or,” Romani suggested after a moment of wide-eyed, stunned silence, “we can wait here until the hall clears.”

After hearing the shocked screech of an unsuspecting servant not too far away I agreed, “Waiting sounds good.” I looked back to Romani. My heart felt warm and I felt like I had more than enough energy to brave the seven singularities and face Goetia all over again.

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay (reader x Bangtan, Hotel AU)

A/N: Hi everybody! This is my first time posting a fanfiction about BTS, and also my first time posting fanfiction on Tumblr, so please forgive me if I mess stuff up! 

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters will have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER ONE ↳You’re surprised you were ever considered for a manager position, but your boss Namjoon seems certain you’ll be a good fit. (Note: Taehyung isn’t in this chapter, but that’s just because he’s not an employee. You’ll see him in Chapter 2 and onwards, I promise!)

You run the pad of your finger back and forth across the newly-cut corner of your staff ID card. As the owner led you through the winding halls of the main building, you had noticed that none of the other staff members seemed to be wearing theirs. You drop it and let it hang limply from the forest green lanyard and tune back in to what the man beside you is saying.

"...but you won't need to worry about that, since you won't be here during the day. Really, there aren't a whole lot of customers out and about after 11pm. Maybe if we were a bigger hotel, there'd be more customers off red-eye flights, but generally, the graveyard shift is pretty quiet." He clears his throat again and comes to a halt, clearly unused to giving the full tour. "Your job is more helping me and the other staff out than customers. I know it's probably not what you were expecting a night manager's role to be."

You smile softly at his sheepish grin and shake your head. "Honestly, I'm just glad you even considered me for the job at all. I kind of applied for this on a whim. Until you called me last week, I was resigned to working as a waitress until my dying day."

He let out a genuine laugh, one you joined in with. Although you were joking around with him, you were really honoured to be here. Not only was the job well paying and pretty straightforward, but Mr Kim, or, you supposed, Namjoon, seemed like a really kind man to have as a boss. That was rarer than a good job, and here you were with both.

"Well," he murmured, attention caught by a commotion down the hall, "we're glad to have you. Wh- Jin! What is this?"

You follow Namjoon's gaze to where the noise, a squeal from an older lady, had come from. She had her hands thrown up in the air in a show of dramatised fright, and one of them was dripping water down her sleeve.

The culprit was a man in a pristine white chef's uniform holding a metal ice bucket. His lips were parted and eyes widened in bewilderment. His head shot around to make eye contact with Namjoon, who had patted you on the shoulder in apology before storming down towards him.

Unsure of what you should do, and secretly wanting to get in on the drama, you quietly followed after him, hovering by a fake potted plant while he confronted the chef.

As soon as he asked what was going on, the elderly lady, now cradling her damp hand, screeched in outrage. "This is some sick prank! What's wrong with you people?"

Jin interjected. "Actually, ma'am, this is dinner." This time, when he lifted up the bucket again, you could see several live lobsters wriggling around in the water.

"Not helpful," Namjoon shot back, before turning to the lady. "I'm so sorry, Mrs Kang. It should've been in a food-safe container, not an ice bucket."

"Well, I never! My husband and I order a bottle of champagne to celebrate our anniversary and instead this...this madman presents us with seafood!"

Namjoon winces, but straightens up when he sees another figure approaching. "Ah, here the champagne comes now, Mrs Kang. Again, I'm terribly sorry about the misunderstanding. We'll take the champagne off your room tab for your troubles. Have a good night, and happy anniversary to you and your husband."

Pleased with the concept of free champagne, as well as its eventual arrival, Mrs Kang makes herself scarce, returning back into the room from whence she apparently came.

Heaving out a relieved sigh, Namjoon turns to the chef. Tiredly, he mutters, "that was a two hundred dollar bottle of champagne, Jin. Was there really nothing else you could've put the lobsters in? Lobster isn't even on the menu."

The chef, Jin, gives a radiant smile to his boss. "Lobster wasn't on the menu. It is now." He looks back down at the bucket. "At least, I hope so. She might've scared the lobsters to death or rotted them with her godawful screaming."

Namjoon darts forward and latches onto the arm not holding a lobster-filled bucket. "Quiet!" He hisses. "We're still outside the room, idiot!" From his new vantage point, he sees you hovering uncertainly on the edge of the hallway. His shoulders drop and he fails to meet your gaze. "Go set up for the dinner service, Jin. And for the last time, don't go through the lobby, use the service entrance."

Namjoon joins you, hand rubbing the back of his neck, and waits for Jin to happily trot off down the hallway to the restaurant. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry, now I know not to harass customers with crustaceans. I'm glad I left mine in the car, now."

The brief awkwardness of the past few minutes is worth it to see the brilliant smile that lights up his face as he laughs. "If I were you, I'd be going out to make sure those weren't my crustaceans. Who knows where Jin gets his groceries."

The rest of the tour goes well, Namjoon having relaxed more, and you feeling more and more positive that this was the place for you. Apart from Jin, Namjoon said, the other workers in the hotel would leave at 11:30 to make way for the night shift. Since you were taking the tour at just 6pm, you wouldn't meet any of your coworkers until your first day, or night, of work.

That first night comes quickly, and although it's been less than a week since the tour, your heart races in excitement when you see Namjoon waiting by the front reception to greet you.

He looks good today, which is maybe not a thought you should be having about your boss, but the other day he was off duty in a polo shirt and linen trousers. Today, he was in all black, apart from the single stripe of forest green that ran down the front of his shirt. His pants were tighter than the linen ones, and his dress shirt had a high neck rather than a collar, making for a very appealing silhouette.

The lobby itself was lighter in colour, but no less dashing. The marble floor with its flecks of gold, the deep green couches, the high ceilings. You felt slightly inadequate, glad for the fact that you had a matching uniform rather than your own clothes.

He greeted you with a warm handshake, and drew your attention to the man sitting leisurely at the reception desk. How you ever missed him coming in, you didn't know, but now that you met his gaze, it felt like the room had brightened several degrees.

His luminous grin and friendly eyes reeled you in, and you found yourself grinning back as you shook his hand. Namjoon introduced him as Hoseok, but the man waved his hand. "Call me Hobi, everyone does."

You began to nod, but Namjoon made a noise of displeasure. "In your own time, sure, but when you're on the clock you can be professional, please, Hoseok. You don't walk around calling me Joonie when I'm trying to deal with unhappy customers."

"I would if I could, buddy." His eyes twinkled as he shot a sly wink at you, swivelling lazily back and forth on his chair.

"Hoseok here is the first thing that anybody who enters the hotel sees, so in many ways he's the face of the business. You can't redo a first impression. If you ever do have a customer out and about during your shift who wants to know something you aren't sure about, just send them his way." Behind Namjoon's back, Hoseok's eyes widen comically and he quickly shakes his head. "For example, if a customer wants to know where they can go to do laundry during a long stay, you'd send them to Hoseok and he'd tell them..." Hoseok's face lights up with a brilliant as Namjoon turns around to face him, but instead of answering, just waits expectantly for Namjoon to continue. Namjoon sighs and turns back to you. "He should tell them that there's a 24 hour laundromat a five minute walk from here if you go right at the main entrance."

You nod resolutely, willing your mouth to keep still instead of quirking up in response to Hoseok's sheepish grin. "No problem, sir."

The gazes of the men in front of you slide over your right shoulder, and you turn reflexively to see what's caught their attention. A young man in a classic bellhop uniform approaches the three of you with an eager grin on his face. The strap of his hat as well as his chubby cheeks cause his eyes to almost disappear in his smile, and when he reaches the desk he leans his back against it. "Hey, boss, is this the new chick?"

You introduce yourself to the bellhop as Namjoon cringes at the boy's forwardness. His name is Jimin, and he makes it very clear with his body language and cheeky grin that he's pleased to meet you. You feel your face heat up when he licks his lips, still staring directly at you. "Being a bellhop with no luggage to tote gets pretty lonely. I hope you get a chance to come and keep me company every now and then."

Hoseok, who had been previously watching this exchange from a leaned-back slump in his chair, sits up in outrage. "I'm here, Jimin! Am I not good enough to keep you company?"

Without turning to look at him, Jimin replies. "Not the kind of company I'm after."

Namjoon's fingers pinch the bridge of his nose and he scrunches up his face. "A little less sexual harassment in the lobby would be great, Jimin. We don't want to scare the new manager away before she's even begun."

You replace your flattered and flustered smile for what's hopefully a more professional, neutral one. "It was lovely to meet you two. I'm sure I'll see you guys around."

Namjoon takes that as a safe point to end the conversation, and mutters a gruff goodbye to the other two before guiding you out of the lobby with a warm hand against your lower back. "I apologise for them," he murmurs as he navigates the carpeted hallways, "the majority of our employees work during the day, and as it happens, all of the female employees, too. The night shift has been a boys club for a while now." He anticipates your unease as you process his statement. "But don't worry! All the guys are great, and you'll get along just fine. Any problems, you can talk to me."

He suddenly turns a corner, and you're led into a small lounge with a fully stocked bar in the far end. There's a man behind the bar, looking the part with an apron around his waist and a rag thrown over his shoulder. The rest of the room is empty except for a single figure at the bar, hunched over with his back to you. He doesn't look up when the two of you approach the bar, even when Namjoon pulls out a stool to sit beside him. The mystery man is flicking back and forth through pages and pages of spreadsheets and data tables, scrawling notes here and there and punching furiously into a calculator. Namjoon leaves him to it for now, and calls over the bartender.

"This is Jungkook, our newest hire. Well, I suppose he was before you came."

The man in question flips a glass bottle of liquor in his hand with a touch of showmanship. "I'm a seasoned employee now, Namjoon. Did I tell you I got to make a sex on the beach the other day? I just about passed out when the lady ordered it, I had her pinned for a white wine kinda gal. I reckon she just had the hots for me, because she took one sip and scrunched her face up like this," you grin at his enthusiastic recreation of her expression, "like she didn't realise what the drink had in it."

"Or maybe you just made a terrible sex on the beach."

"Well, maybe if I was put on the evening shift I could actually make enough drinks to find out," he protested, crossing his arms over. You hold your gaze stubbornly to the shelves behind you in order to avoid staring at the way the muscles of his exposed forearms flexed and the veins in his hands jumped with the action. Why the fuck was everybody in this hotel so hot?

"Yoongi, would you like to introduce yourself to our new night manager?" Namjoon tried to give the man at the bench meaningful eye contact, but the black head of hair was buried in paperwork.

"What I would like," the man drawled under his breath, "is for us to stick to our goddamn budget for once. Just one month, Namjoon, and I'd kiss your fucking shoes." Namjoon cringed at the curse, but had the decency to look a little guilty. The man, Yoongi, sat up a little, enough for you to see most of his face, and flipped through until he found a certain page. "Here," he growled, finger rapping angrily at a money breakdown report, "does Seokjin really have to spend nearly three hundred dollars on chicken stock? Nobody's ordering chicken noodle soup in the middle of summer!"

Namjoon frowns and leans in closer to Yoongi. The pair of them fall into intense conversation, and you awkwardly avert your gaze to give them some privacy. The bartender, Jungkook, sees you shifting around and rests his elbows on the bench. "You want a drink?"

You blink. "Oh. No, I don't think I should be drinking on the job. But thank you for offering."

He lets out a chuckle. "We have water," he says, eyes twinkling. "Do you really think I'd get you drunk on your first shift?"

You shake your head, feeling silly that you had assumed he was offering you alcohol. "Water would be nice. Thank you."

He sends you one last toothy grin over his shoulder as he grabs a glass, and fills it for you. The water is so cold that by the time he sets down a coaster in front of you, condensation has gathered on the outside and drips over your fingers when you take a sip.

He watches you for a moment, reflexively whipping out his rag to clean up the water droplets on the bench. "So, why the hotel?"

"Hm?"

"Why is a girl like you applying for a job where the only hours are the middle of the night?"

You set your glass down. "I don't know what you mean by a girl like me, but to answer your question, I'd take any hours if it meant I didn't have to wait tables anymore. I've dealt with enough shitty customers to last a lifetime."

He nods thoughtfully, but his lips are quirked into a smirk. "Better no customers at all, huh?" He waves his hand to gesture at the empty room.

"Actually, better all the angry customers have tired themselves out with the day staff and are sleeping peacefully." The pair of you fall into a comfortable lull of silence, but it doesn't last. "Don't you get bored? Being a bartender with no drinks to make, I mean?"

"Not when I have a pretty girl to think about." Although he wiggles an eyebrow suggestively, you know you're right.

Unaware of the fact that the conversation to the left of you has finished, you shoot back a reply. "Thanks for that. So far every staff member tonight except Yoongi has flirted with me. I feel like I'm collecting the whole set."

You hear a scoff, and the fact that it's too deep to have come from Jungkook sends blood rushing to your cheeks. The man in question has tidied up all his papers into a single neat pile and is staring directly at you. You're not completely surprised to see he's absurdly good-looking too, now that you can properly see his face. He doesn't seem to be mad, just a little begrudged. "Maybe if Namjoon would hire adults for once, rather than horny little boys, you wouldn't have to deal with it."

Jungkook lets out an offended cry, but you ignore him and turn to face the two older men. "I don’t know,” you joke, “just think how much money you must save hiring horny little boys rather than qualified adults! It probably evens out the chicken stock fund." You don't quite manage a laugh out of him, but Yoongi's quick flash of a grin seems reward enough.

Namjoon decides it's time to move you along, and the last thing you see as you exit the bar is a rueful smile and wave from Jungkook, and Yoongi's curious stare. You expect to be led to another room to meet more employees, or to Namjoon's office to get started, but before you go anywhere, he gently presses on your shoulder to slow you to a stop, and leans in to talk to you in a soft murmur.

"I'm so, so sorry if you feel like the other staff members have been inappropriate with you." Guilt darkens his face. "And I would be completely disappointed in myself if you felt like I had acted the same. I'm so sorry," he repeats awkwardly.

You shake your head and give him your brightest smile. "It's totally fine! All the guys, you included, have been nothing but sweet to me, and besides, I was just joking around with Jungkook. No harm done, honestly."

He searches your face for a few moments, then slowly nods. "Okay. Okay, let's get started, then."

[imgilmoregirl]

The Thing She Loves The Most

AO3 Link

Summary:  Five years can change too many things, too many lifes and even though Natasha Romanoff thought she was the only one who wasn't going to be able to move on, the night she found out her best friend had become a murderer changed everything.

Notes: Nope I don't own Marvel, nor anything related to it, just the story.

Spoilers ahead, so read at your own risk. And, if you are a Romanogers fan who is very pissed off at Endgame, please let me know so I can write more. Enjoy it.

The period of five years meant different things to different people: happiness, destruction, despair, compromise. For most it was a difficult beginning, for others it seemed to be just a vast oblivion and for Natasha Romanoff, a great part of this time had meant sadness and guilt - only for being alive of course, whist many were gone - until one call changed the course of her day and eventually, the course of her life. It had happened exactly three years after the battle against Thanos, when Rhodes finally found out who was committing all those mysterious murders and she somehow ended-up at Steve Rogers' door, crying her heart out and babbling about how much she had failed everyone including her best friend, Clint Barton.

After that night, Natasha decided that it was time to follow with her life, for better or for worse and do something about the pain that was killing her inside. She had never thought that losing the Avengers would do this to her, but then she had also never realised how much they meant to her until they were gone. Feeling that much wasn't usual to her, she was a spy, she had a story of cruelties in her life that probably should have taught her to be stronger than that and yet, she wasn't. It was the main reason why she chose to move to the country side of England just a few days after learning what Clint had turned into, truth be told Natasha wanted to help him, but her friend had turned into a ghost who left no trail behind and as much as she tried, she could never get to track him in time. Whenever she got a clue to follow, he was already gone. Just like everyone else.

So now, this is the brief tale of a spy who had a bigger heart than people judged and who lived the uncertainty of the future, the challenges of the destiny and, mainly who loved and lost just to learn that in the end you will do anything to protect the thing you love the most.

...

It was April when Steve Rogers found the letter under the desk. He had been there a million times since she was gone and for some reason he hadn't noticed it until then, maybe because he had never missed her so deeply that he decided to pick up her ballet shoes, left behind in her hurry to leave. The envelope was blue, her handwriting black and elegant, just like her, but none of the words written inside served to soothe his aching heart. All the people he loved had disappeared and she just decided to go away without saying a word when they needed each other the most? Steve couldn't understand it, but then he had never fully understood Natasha, he only knew that he cared about her like no one else in the world.

What was written behind the envelope, however was something that he not only could, but did use. An information, an address, long forgotten along with all the dust. It had taken him across the ocean through a long flight and some more hours of driving, but for someone who just needed a friendly talk, a good old teasing and an exchange of painful smiles, it was all worth it. Steven, however, couldn't say it was the kind of place he had ever imagined Natasha living in, it was too quiet and too small for such a dynamic woman like her and yet, once he reached the cottage he knew she was there.

The air had her perfume, the curtains were dark as she would have liked and the door was painted in a beautiful shade of grey, which made him smile as he lifted a nervous hand up to knock twice before hearing her speaking for the very first time in almost two years. Steve couldn't understand what she said, but it was her voice, he would recognize it anywhere. Then came the steps, the sound of the door being unlocked and suddenly she was standing right in front of him: hair half-red half-blonde, cerulean cardigan, sweatpants and black socks, the perfect image of a very angry version of Heaven.

"What are you doing here?"

The voice was shaky, teary and impossibly rude all at the same. Without knowing what to say at first, Steve pulled her letter out of his jacket's pocket and Natasha gasped.

"May I come in?"

She looked around, once, twice, a bit neurologically which seemed weird to him, but all Steve wanted was an explanation and maybe a good talk over a couple of tea cups and sandwiches, so he didn't mind it at all. He stepped inside the house, noticing how homely and totally unlike her it seemed from there, the cosy living room bringing him a kind of warmth to his heart that he didn't know where could be coming from. Natasha in the other hand, was looking very cautious and cold, she went straight to the couch and took a seat, resting her feet on the coffee table as she stared openly at him.

"I've only found the letter a few days ago," Steve justified himself. "You almost killed me of concern, Nat. Why did you go away?"

She looked down, taking a deep breath and clearly avoiding his glare.

"Everything was so confuse, so painful... I couldn't take it anymore," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

When Natasha looked up, Steve could see the trail her tears had done in her cheeks glowing in the lights. She was silent, but not peaceful and it was enough to make him move towards her, taking a seat on the tiny table and covering her cold hands with his.

"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about. I do understand you, Nat, I just wish you could have talked to me. That's all."

There was a sniffle and she pulled her hands away from his, looking up at the ceiling as she allowed her more tears to fall down. She was broken, he could see, probably more than anyone else. Natasha opened her mouth to say something, but a loud wail interrupted her, making her head turn as she jumped from the couch, rushing in the hallway's direction and disappearing through a door, leaving Steve to his shock at the noise. He was trying to make sense of it, telling his brain that it got the wrong information when she came back holding a child and his heart lost its pace.

Steve blinked three times, but the image was still the same. He stood up, watching her in awe, wanting to ask away everything that came to his mind, however he couldn't, not when he was seeing the sarcastic, sassy Natasha Romanoff soothing a toddler. She was whispering to him - because it was a boy, he could see - murmuring in Russian, and kissing his red hair as she stroked his back. The truth was being slapped in his face but yet for the ever intelligent Captain America, it wasn't clear at all.

"It is time for you to go home, Steve," Natasha said and her words suddenly broke his state of shock.

"Who is this?" He asked, pointing at the child in her arms, which made her stirr. "What? Are you going to tell me you've got a job as a nanny just for fun?"

"No," she answered louder than before, her voice sounding strong and decided. "I'm not a nanny, he is mine."

"Yours?"

The baby, who at this point had already stopped crying, turned around to see him, laying his small head in the crock of Natasha's neck. His eyes were blue, his mouth thin and pink as it sucked a thumb, a beautiful child indeed and one who certainly resembled her, but still he could remember those late night talks during the missions and the times Natasha had described what had been done to her and it made him certain that she was lying. The Black Widow couldn't have children.

"Yes, mine. Now go, Steve, you shouldn't have come here in first place."

"You left me a letter," he pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but it was before... Before I knew."

His face was contracted in a weird grimace as he tried to place all the puzzle pieces together, heart racing and mouth dry as his brain continued to work towards an answer. He took a step into her direction and Natasha took another back, covering the child's face with her hand, very gently.

"You can't have children, you've said it yourself."

"I know, but apparently there are exceptions," she murmured. "I now know I can conceive with people who have gone through those horrible processes. Just like us."

Then there it was. His breath got caught on his throat as things finally made sense and the images of Natasha naked in his arms whimpering in pleasure crossed his mind. Steve's eyes fell to the toddler she held and the redhead took her hand away from his face so he could take a better look, his pulse quickening when he recognized the nose and the ears he was seeing in the child's face as if he was looking at a mirror.

"What is his name?"

"James," Natasha answered. "Your son's name is James."

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

The Neighborly Thing To Do

Life was a fickle thing. Chloe’s grandmother knew this and was sure to tell Chloe all about it every time she saw her. Chloe disregarded her grandmother’s words for the most part, sure she was hopped up on all kinds of meds. Now however, standing before this greenish looking almost complete-stranger, Chloe realized what her grandmother had been talking about.

It was her day off from work, just a casual day for Chloe to tidy up the loose ends in her life and relax. A day Chloe felt was well deserved. It was like her clients had been able to feel her day off approaching rapidly, each client somehow more of a prick than the last. Still, she had kept up her polite demeanor, kept from snapping at any of the entitled assholes she dealt with regularly. So when she woke up to the door being knocked on so hard Chloe was sure it would fall off its hinges, she wasn’t too happy about having to pry herself from the nice warm cocoon that her bed and blankets had become. Still, with a knock like that, whoever was at the door surely had something important to say.

It wasn’t until Chloe had stood in the entryway to her apartment for a solid minute staring off into no man’s land before she discovered the small bag of food at her feet. This had to be some sort of prank right? Chloe had been out cold, so unless she was sleep-dialing-a-telephone-and-ordering-food, then it probably wasn’t her. She sighed and picked up the bag sagging under the weight of the food inside of it, plucking off the receipt and taking a look at it. In the process, she noticed the chipped red nail polish on her fingers, making a mental note be sure and redo those later. Shaking her head slightly, Chloe focused back on the task at hand. Finding out where the food actually came from.

Chloe squinted at the receipt, before giving up and padding off to find her glasses. She had run out of contacts yesterday, and purchasing more was just another box on her to-do list today. She picked up the round wire frames from her bedside table and slid back into the kitchen in her fuzzy socks, almost losing her balance on the slick wood floor as she collided into the cabinet. Her second pair of eyes finally on her face, she scanned the receipt once more, this time actually find the rightful owner of the food’s name. Calum Hood.

Chloe had to admit, it had taken her a couple tries to place the name. She knew it sounded familiar, but she didn’t exactly speak to the man on a regular basis. Occasionally, sure. In passing? Why not? But not enough to recognize his name as her next door neighbor. Chloe didn’t bother to put on shoes as she stepped out into the hallway, dresses in her Nike pros and old Columbia sweatshirt. This was a regrettable decision on her part because it was right when her neighbor opened the door that she remember just how attractive he was. Although, there was something different about his appearance from the last time she saw him. It was softer, sweeter than his normal I’m-a-stone-cold-bad-boy appearance.

Chloe froze for a second, taking in his appearance. His cheeks were flushed an angelic looking pink, making her think of a sweet little puppy. But his skin, which first appeared to be glowing, upon closer examination was actually sweat. It was then Chloe noticed how heavily he actually was sweating. She figured he had just been working out or something, no big deal. Chloe was just ready to get her day started.

“Hey. I’m Chloe from next door. I’m not sure if you remember me, we met a while ago.” Chloe stood there awkwardly, realizing she was probably rambling at this point. It was hard not to, though. It certainly wasn’t Chloe’s fault that her neighbor was so fucking attractive. It took her a minute, but eventually Chloe snapped back into reality, ready to fulfill the purpose for her visit. “Anyways, I think you had your food delivered to the wrong house. So, here you go.”

Chloe held the bag out, awaiting his next move. Calum just stood there staring at her, and for a moment Chloe was worried that she was at the wrong apartment. It would embarrassing as fuck if she had gotten this dude’s name wrong. Chloe met his eyes, but then realized he wasn’t staring at her. His eyes had just glazed over, their normal steely-ness replaced by a glassy appearance. Chloe wondered why he was acting so weird since normally he was the type of person to make someone feel like he was picking them apart with just his glare. But when it finally dawned on her, realization hit Chloe like a truck.

Calum was sick.

And from the look on his face, he was also about to be sick.

“Oh no. OH NO. Not here.” Chloe felt a little strange about it, but she took matters into her own hands, placing her hands on his shoulders and spinning him around. She pushed him into the nearest doorway, hoping for a trash can, a bucket, anything. Her guardian angel must have been on point today, because the room she happened to shove the broad-shouldered man into was a bathroom. Just in time, too, because as soon as Calum entered the room, her promptly curled himself over the toilet and proceed to empty the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Chloe sighed, her conscious at war with itself. She knew the man definitely needed her help, but it was her one day off. Was it too much to ask that she get to actually enjoy it? Still, her mother had ingrained a very strict set of principles into her being from a very young age. Chloe debated with herself for a minute before deciding to call someone for him. First, though, she dampened a washcloth with cool water and placed it on the back of his neck. Chloe was usually the designated driver in her friend group, and she figured taking care of a drunk person and a sick person were basically the same.

Chloe then wondered back into the main area of Calum’s apartment, finding the layout mostly the same as her own. His phone had been left discarded on the couch, so Chloe picked it up. He had a few notifications from twitter and instagram, but no texts from anyone. Chloe knew it was sort of weird, but she clicked the button, surprised to find his phone unlocked. She then opened his text messages and clicked on the top contact, someone named Ash. She typed out a simple message, still weirded out that she was kind of invading his privacy. She opted to keep it short and sweet, just stating that he was pretty sick and need someone to help him out. She pressed send before she could think twice.

Chloe bit her lip, twiddling with her thumbs for a minute before wondering back into her neighbor’s kitchen. Calum was going to need to have something in his stomach if he was going to keep up like this. She opened the door to his fridge, finding a lot of old takeout and alcohol. It was actually sort of sad to Chloe, and she guessed that he was either painfully single or had just broken up with someone. Chloe knew that she had a few cans of Sprite in her apartment, having given up dark sodas recently. After weighing her options for a little bit, she quickly ran over to her place, grabbed the soft drinks, and was back before Calum had thrown up again. Chloe quickly transferred the drink into an insulated cup she found on the counter along with some ice.

She picked up both the drink and her neighbor’s phone before waking back to join him in the bathroom. He was sweating harder than he had been previously, panting with his head still hovering over the toilet bowl. Chloe noticed the rag she had placed on the back of his neck was starting to slide off, but when she leaned over to adjust it, she found that cool cloth that she had placed there minutes before was already warm. Chloe grimaced, her own memories of being ill resurfacing. She slid her back down against the counter til she was in a sitting position next to him on the floor. Without even realizing she was doing it, Chloe started rubbing small circles on his broad back, trying to provide the smallest shred of comfort for the obviously miserable man. She sat there for a few minutes, just her hand on his back and her wondering why she was still here.

Chloe was so lost in her own thoughts that her brain barely registered the faint ringing noise that was Calum’s ringtone. She picked up the phone with her free hand, looking at the recent message. It was the Ash person again, but to Chloe’s distress, he was unable to come over until late tomorrow. Apparently, Calum and the rest of his friends were supposed to go on some trip for the weekend, but Calum had canceled when he got sick. Chloe lifted her other hand in order to type out a quick response, but paused when she heard a small whimpering noise escape from Calum’s mouth. Chloe felt the corners of her mouth tug up at the edges a little, finding how vulnerable the huge man was in this moment quite endearing. Calum seemed to have caught his breath for the moment, so Chloe figured it was worth the risk to try to move him to the couch. If she could just get him to go to sleep, she could sneak out and get on with the rest of her day off.

“You feeling better?” Chloe wasn’t exactly sure how to tell him that she wanted to book it out of his apartment in nicer terms. So she figured that ‘you feeling better’ was probably a good start.

Calum just gave a small grunt in response, still breathing pretty heavily. Chloe had to admit, if she was in that state, she would want someone to take care of her. Maybe he wasn’t feeling quite as well as Chloe would have wanted, but she was still holding out hope that she could drag him over to the couch.

“C’mon bud. At least let me help you to the couch. The bathroom floor is way too uncomfortable to sleep on.” Chloe tried to make her voice as soft and comforting as possible. While it was apparent that she would be getting no help from Calum on the matter, she still needed him to be at least sort of on board.

Chloe sighed internally and helped Calum to his feet. She slung one of his arms over her shoulders, shrinking a little over the addition of his weight to her own. She didn’t know what she was expecting, though; he was 6’1” and quite muscular. Together, they stumbled over to his couch, only when Calum collapsed onto it, he pulled Chloe down onto it with him.

Chloe was seated on the couch normally, which wasn’t so bad by itself. No, the true issues lied with how calum was laying. He had plopped his head into her lap and slung both of his arms around her waist, hugging her waist tightly. The more time Chloe spent with the sickly man the more he was reminding her of a small puppy. Which was adorable. Great. Chloe knew, buried deep down inside of herself somewhere, she was secretly enjoying taking care of Calum. But on principle, she just wanted to high tail it out of there as soon as possible, trying desperately to salvage the rest of her day. Still, it was clear that the man desperately needed someone to take care of him, the evidence lying in the used tissues and discarded pill bottles and plates of barely touched food scattered all over the apartment. It would be the neighborly thing to do, plus if Calum had any complaints, he hadn’t voiced them yet. So Chloe decided to try and take care of him as best she knew how.

It was times like these Chloe was sort of upset that her mother ran a natural health store. The only things she knew were weird and obscure home remedies, the type that were sure to work as soon as you added the final ingredient of pixie dust and unicorn tears. Still, Chloe dutifully scrambled back to her apartment and gathered everything she thought she might need into her newly emptied laundry basket, including her softest and most comfortable blanket. It was one of the only things that made her feel better when she was sick, so she figured that maybe it would help Calum out a little, too. Chloe felt a bit of regret that she kept having to leave Calum and leave his front door wide open, too. Still, it was for his own good. Nonetheless, when she returned in less than five minutes, she breathed a small sigh of relief when she found him the exact same position she had left him in. He had slipped into a bit of a restless sleep, a soft rumbling escaping from his lips every few seconds. It was a sure sign that he was starting to get worse as time went on, seeing as he hadn’t been nearly this congested as far back as Chloe could remember.

Chloe set her stuff down and took a moment to collect her thoughts before she walked over to Calum as silently as she could and crouched next to him where he laid on the couch. His breath was so raspy and his cheeks so flushed. Chloe knew it may have been a little wrong, but the man just looked so fucking adorable. She gently felt his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand. Chloe felt the corners of her mouth tug downwards when she felt how fiery hot his skin was against her own, the dampness that was provided by his sheen of sweat.

Chloe was no idiot. She knew illnesses like these didn’t just appear overnight; it just made Chloe wonder why Calum didn’t do or say anything about the illness that he surely knew was coming. Calum was a bit too out of it to question at the moment, so Chloe just settled for trying to lower his body temperature bit by bit. She took his actual temperature first, though. Chloe knew how dangerous it could be to just try and lower his temperature all out once. She had some concerns, however. She knew that many people swore by trying to let someone sweat out a fever but the rational decision was to try and cool him down, right? Chloe wasn’t quite sure if she was doing anything right, but she was trying her best. If Chloe thought she could slip away later, she figured that she would try and get in touch with her other grandmother, the non crazy one, and see if she could offer any advice. Still, right now she could only do what she knew. So, Chloe started by taking his actual temperature. The back of the hand thing wasn’t exactly the most reliable system of measurement for a fever. Calum, however had other ideas.

“Hey, Calum. I need to take your temperature. Can you keep this under your tongue for just a little bit?” Chloe was bending over at her hips, trying to get Calum to concentrate for just one minute. How did the dopey little puppy she had found so endearing turn into a stubborn fucking gremlin in about two seconds, worse than any toddler that Chloe had ever baby sat.

Calum proceeded to spit the thermometer out every time Chloe tried to stick it in his mouth, mumbling something over and over that sounded a lot like ‘cow.’ Chloe didn’t know what he was going on about, instead just focusing on the task at hand. She was about to quit when Calum’s hand met her wrist and caught it in a strong grip.

“Cal. Call me Cal.” Chloe met Calum- Cal’s eyes and found them to be focused and attentive for once. It was nice that while Cal had one moment of clarity, he chose to use it to correct Chloe on a nickname. Not question why she was here, not ask who she was, just correct her with a nickname. Perfect.

Chloe finally got tired of playing games with the man child and sat next to him on the edge of the couch.

“Cal, bub, I need you to cooperate for one minute, please.” As soon as Cal opened his mouth to protest, Chloe seized her opportunity and stuck the thermometer under his tongue, holding it there firmly. Cal’s coherency seemed to slip from him as soon as it had come because he stopped fighting everything Chloe tried to do. Chloe simply sat with Cal for the duration of the minute, brushing his thick and shaggy dark curls back from his face. Cal’s eyelids grew heavy on his face, slipping lower while Chloe lightly dragged her nails along his scalp. Finally she heard the rather aggressive beep of the thermometer informing Chloe that the device had finished it’s task.

103.2º  Chloe knew that Cal had felt warm, but this was teetering a bit close to the 104º territory. She didn’t inform Cal of this, but she resolved to check his temperature every hour, and if it went above 103.7º then they would be paying a visit to the hospital. First, though, she would give a few home remedies a try. Just to start, Chloe got her personal blanket and the comforter off of Cal’s bed and layered both of them onto his compliant figure. She also found a black beanie sitting on the edge of his dresser and figured it couldn’t hurt to add that on, too. This man may have been deliriously sick, but between the plump fever-flushed cheeks and rich curls tucked haphazardly under the beanie, Calum was just about the cutest person Chloe was pretty sure to ever exist. He was sick nonetheless and Chloe once again felt her responsibility for his health take over.

She retreated back into the kitchen, digging in his freezer until she finally found what she was looking for. Ice packs. She took one out and, after searching for a minute, wrapped in one of his dish rags. Then she dampened a second rag and wrapped it around the ice pack, too. Chloe had tried to learn from her previous experiences and hoped that the ice pack wouldn’t melt before it could cool Cal down even the smallest bit. She also wetted a second smaller cloth to drape across his forehead, something to keep the sweat at bay. Gathering both sets of clothes, some various medicines, and some soup crackers, Chloe walked back to where Cal was laying, her arms laden with the items.

She dumped the contents of her arms onto Cal’s small coffee table, wincing at the loud clattering noises everything made as it made contact with wooden surface. Cal creaked his swollen eyelids open at the sounds she accidentally made.

“Ooh, my bad.” Chloe halfheartedly apologised for awakening him, knowing he could probably use all the sleep he could get.

“It’s fine.” Cal made the move to sit up, but stopped halfway through, obviously dizzy. Chloe swiftly moved to help him, placing one hand under his arm and the other on his back to steady him. Cal stated no thanks, instead offering up a grimace. Chloe knew that look. That was the ‘I’m-about-to-throw-up’ look. Chloe reacted on instinct, procuring a small garbage can and placing it in his lap. Cal just sat there, dry-heaving. It was an awful feeling, Chloe knew, but she assumed since he had nothing in his stomach to throw up then he must not have had very many fluids in his system either. Chloe went through all the pills and syrups, searching for one that wouldn’t harm him if he took it on an empty stomach. After finding one to help ease the nausea a bit, she gave him a little more than the correct dosage. To be fair, the dosage was for an averaged sized woman and not a particularly large man.

However, if Chloe wanted to give him more of the heavier stuff, then he’d need to eat something. She retrieved the drink from earlier from the bathroom and placed it directly into his hand. Cal seemed to get the message and dank quite a bit before placing it on the coffee table as well. Once she had laid him back down and gotten the cloths situated, Chloe once again walked back into the kitchen. The apartment was an open concept, thank goodness, so she was able to keep an eye on him as she got him some food. The question remained what.

From the contents of his apartment, it was evident that Cal spent very little time in it. There really wasn’t much of anything in here, decorations, food, or otherwise. In all honesty, Chloe found it just a touch sad. Her apartment was cluttered with mementos from her experiences and relationships. It just made her wonder why he didn’t have any. Chloe, after searching the contents of his kitchen and deeming nothing appropriate, once again slipped back into her own apartment and gather the ingredients for soup. She figured chicken noodle was a classic sick-o food, and therefore, she couldn’t go wrong with it, right? It was a pretty simple recipe, but Chloe was never the one to do anything half hearted. So instead of just opening a can of Campbell's and warming it up, she took it upon herself to make said soup from scratch.

Chloe had always considered herself a pretty good cook. She had never burned anything, was always able to follow a recipe; but this time? Well, not to brag, but Chloe felt that she had really outdone herself. The food wasn’t anywhere near done yet, but it was already smelling positively delectable. Chloe finished boiling the noodles, only cooking them partially so they could finish off and absorb some of the flavor, and dumped them into the broth. It was then she noticed a secondary presence watching her from where he leaned against the counter.

“Feeling better?” Chloe hopped up onto counter and leaned forward a little, bending to adjust her sock that happened to be falling down a bit.

“Feeling okay. Okay enough that I’m starting to question why my neighbor, whom I’ve spoken approximately two words to, is in my apartment making me soup and being way too nice to me.” Chloe snorted internally. Apparently, Cal was feeling well enough to be snarky. Chloe squirmed a little bringing her feet up to cross her legs as she sat there on top of the cabinet. She had actually been wondering the same thing herself.

“Well, after you almost threw up on me, it was oh so painfully obvious you needed some help. I did, in fact, try to contact one of your friends,” Chloe paused when Cal raised his eyebrows at her, and realized how much of a stalker she must have seemed like in that moment. “Someone named Ash texted to see how you were feeling. Stop giving me that look. Anywho, he said he was unavailable and I wasn’t.”

“Hmm.” Cal pursed his lips, seeming to think on her words for a moment. He still had that dumb black beanie on, the one Chloe had put there herself. At this point, she was about ready to just bolt out the door and move apartments all together. What in the actual fuck had she been thinking? What even was a conscious anyways? She had almost made up her mind to just abort the situation when Cal walked over and lead against the counter right next to her. “Thank you. For everything.”

Well, fuck. Chloe about just damn melted. The pure softness he was radiating was too much for her. Between the fever-flushed cheeks, timid smile, and silky curls, she was once again reminded why she was still here. How could she possibly leave?

She offered a small smile to Cal and slipped off the counter. Curse the damn soup for not taking longer to be ready. She could have sat there with him for an eternity, but instead decided to finish up with her task. She had never burned anything and she wasn’t planning on starting today. Before she could start searching through all his cabinets, Cal reached up into the one above her head and pulled down two of his bowls. She took them from his hands and gave them both a moderate amount. She knew he probably wasn’t all that hungry, but he still needed to eat. Plus, she figured if she could get him to eat about half of the portion she gave him, they would be doing pretty good.

Chloe turned back to Cal, the bowls in her hands and some words on her lips when new look appeared on Cal’s face. This wasn’t his resting face nor his I’m-about-to-throw-up face, either. Instead, it was one where his eyes went glossy and his face pale, a rather concerning grey hue replacing the feverish-flush. His lips parted, almost forming the words he was obviously desperate to get out. His body had other ideas, however, giving out from under him. Chloe let the bowls fall from her hands and clatter onto the ground, soup and noodles flying everywhere.

Chloe flung her arms out, desperately trying to catch him before he hit the ground. Her arms hooked under his own but instead of catching him, she was only able to break his fall, albeit a substantial amount. She was dragged onto the ground by his weight, his head once again in her lap.

Well, this was a cause for concern, to say the least. Chloe figured that he probably passed out due to low blood sugar, but at this point, a trip to the doctor was starting to seem better and better. She pushed his curls off his forehead once more and tried to determine their best course of action. There was no way Chloe could get him to his bed, much less the couch or the doctor. It seemed a little mean, but Chloe lightly tapped Cal’s cheek, biting the inside of her cheek and hoping for the best. This was such a strange situation to be in, but Chloe was in too deep to stop now. Much to her relief, Cal peeled his eyes open, seemingly disoriented. Made sense. He blinked hard and groaned, reaching his hand up to his forehead. Chloe just sat back a little, giving him a moment to collect himself before trying to move him. She was sort of anxious to get him back onto the couch. He made the moves to sit up, so Chloe pushed him up the rest of the way and waited a minute to let him get used to that. The she once again slung his arm over her shoulders and stood slowly, paying close attention to move at his pace while he got his feet back under him. He leaned heavily on her, keeping one hand lightly touching his forehead, but unable to focus on anything but the feeling of Chloe’s arm around his waist.

She helped him lower himself gently back onto the couch and brought the blankets back over him, even going as far as replacing the cloths and ice pack with newer, colder ones. Chloe watched as Cal’s eyelids closed again and the snores started up once more. Chloe was a touch disappointed that she had been unable to get any food into him, but sleep was a better alternative than throwing up. She stood for a minute, watching his peaceful expression, before hearing his phone ring and racing to answer it before it woke him.

“Hello?” Chloe once again felt strange about answering his phone for him, but today was already sort of out of the box. This wasn’t even the craziest thing that had happened today.

“Hi, is this Calum Hood?” A woman’s voice crackled through the speaker of the phone, sounding utterly professional. The voice was mature and strong, and, to Chloe, a hell of a lot older than her and Cal.

“No, he’s asleep right now. This is his friend, Chloe Van Dyne. Can I take a message?” Chloe wondered about the apartment while she spoke, carefully keeping her voice hushed so as to not wake Cal up.

“This is his physician, Dr. Park.” Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, thanking her lucky stars that she had called. It left the decision as to whether or not to take him over there in someone else’s hands.

“Oh, thank goodness you called. I actually had a few questions for you.” Chloe spoke quickly, almost desperately. “So, he fainted earlier, should I be concerned? Also, should I bring him in to see you? I think this illness is a bit more than just a common cold.”

“Slow down for just a second, sweetie.” Dr. Park chuckled a bit, finding the concern the young girl obviously had for her friend utterly charming.”He probably just fainted due to a low blood sugar. Just try to get some food into him. And no, there’s no need to bring him in. He actually already came to see me. Just make sure he takes his prescription.”

“There isn’t one?” Chloe felt her brows furrow together, almost automatically. If Cal knew he was sick and he had been to see the doctor, then why hadn’t the dumbass gone to pick up his prescription?

“Well then. I already called it in and he pre-paid for it, so you should just be able to go to the pharmacy and pick it up for him. I can give you the information if you’d like.”

After gathering the pharmacy information from Dr. Park, Chloe said her goodbyes and hung up. Her worries were thus far mostly relieved, and since Cal was still asleep, she figured she had a few moments to slip out to the pharmacy and pick up his prescription. It only took her a matter of minutes, so Chloe felt that she had time to go ahead and get some chinese food for herself as well. At least that part of her day off was still intact.

Chloe was once again relieved to find Calum still asleep on the couch. It was for the best. If he was asleep, he couldn’t exactly throw up all over the place. She read the directions on the pills she had recently picked up and, much to her chagrin, shook Calum awake.

“C’mon bub. Wake up.” She gave him a minute and went back to the kitchen for a second bowl of soup, ready to make him give eating something another shot. While she was in there, she cleaned up the spilled soup from earlier. He opened his eyes, groggy but not too tired. Chloe removed a pill from the bottle and went back to Cal.

“Open up.” She leaned over him and tried to pop the pill into his mouth. Instead, he leaned over and threw up. Right. On. Her.

Chloe sighed deeply and looked towards the ceiling. She rubbed her face over and bit her lip, thinking about all the things she could have been do if she wasn’t here, such as not getting thrown up on. How exhausting. Calum started to apologize, but she just held up her hand and shushed him. It wasn’t his fault he was sick, just that he had bad aim.

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna go change real fast, then I’ll be back.” Chloe started to head back to her apartment for the third time today. She really wanted to shower, but she had also wanted her day off to be productive and, well, look how that had turned out.

“You can shower here if you want. I have some sweats you can wear?” Truth be told, Calum just really didn’t want her to leave. He had seen her looks throughout the day, had even heard her grumbling once or twice about her day off being eaten up by taking care of him. If he was to be completely honest, he was worried that if she left right now, she might not actually come back. As much as he hated being sick, he had to admit that it was sort of nice to be taken care of by someone, especially someone he had been sort of fawning over for such a long time.

“Oh, um, okay then.” Chloe cocked her head, sort of uncertain about showering here. Still, she figured she might as well. There was a pair of leggings in the laundry basket that she had apparently missed when she was emptying it out, so she just borrowed one of his hoodies, a large forest green one with the word empathy written on the front. She was in and out of the shower in a matter of minutes and, after toweling off and drying her hair, she joined Cal on the

Couch, pleased to find the pill taken and the soup half eaten. As soon as she had gotten comfortable on the couch with her legs once again in criss-cross-applesauce style, Cal plopped his head back into her lap. She felt her fingers tangle themselves into his hair, working out the knots and furls. Chloe figured she’d be here a while so she grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on Netflix, pulling up The Office.

She was pleased to note that it was a part of Cal’s list. She liked a man with good taste. Chloe couldn’t help but smile a little, too, when she noticed that the Great British Bake Off was right next to it in his list. Like she said, she liked a man with good taste. She just picked up on the episode that Calum had left off on, having already seen the show multiple times. She chuckled softly at Michael’s bullshit and was sort of surprised when she heard Cal chuckling along, too. He probably needed to go back to sleep but instead of telling him that, Chloe instead just ate her food that she had picked up. It was almost seven already and it was only when her stomach started rumbling that she realized that she hadn’t eaten anything that day. All was well, but she was tucking into the chow mein like a fiend. Cal tried to sneak one of her egg rolls on a couple occasions, but she was quick to smack his hand away. He was already throwing up pretty consistently every ten or fifteen minutes. There was no need to chinese food as fuel to that fire.

While he may have still been getting sick, Cal was actually really enjoying the day. Chloe was, in Cal’s opinion, a godsend. He was now really pleased with the fact that the rest of the guys had abandoned him for the weekend. Cal loved his friends, but he would be the first to admit that they would be nowhere near as helpful as Chloe was, nor would they look even a fourth as good doing it. Maybe it was kind of dumb, but he had always remembered Chloe, whether on tour or when he was just hanging out in L.A. This wasn’t his ideal way of getting to know someone, nor was it that great of a first hang out session, but he would take what he would get in reference to time with her. They just laid there together late into the evening, her soothingly rubbing his back as he got sick. Again, not ideal, but also not that awful. It was a nice change of pace from the past couple of days, being sick and miserable all alone in his rather bare apartment.

Time ended up passing a little too fast for Chloe’s tastes, but she felt her eyelids gaining weight by the second. She was actually a little shocked when she glanced at her phone and noticed that it was already a little past eleven. Calum was already long gone, but she figured getting him into his bed was the least she could do. He opened his eyes automatically when she stood up, which made it a lot easier on her.

“C’mon, bub. Let’s get you into bed.” She stood him up and ushered him back into his bedroom, carrying the comforter and blankets in her arms. As he climbed under the sheets, Chloe spread the blankets back over him. She was so fucking tired, just ready to go back home.

Chloe crept towards the door, ready to make her escape. Yeah, Cal was still sick, but there wasn’t really any harm in leaving him here for the night and coming to check on him tomorrow, right? But, right as she had reached the door, she heard him.

“Stay. Please.” It was small and pathetic, Calum knew, but he figured he had a good excuse in being sick. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn’t have possibly given less of a fuck, instead choosing to focus on how adorable she looked in his sweatshirt. It was obviously way to big for her, but that just added onto the charm of it all. Cal watched her make up her mind, watched as she tried to hide her smile and looked towards the ground.

“Alright.” Chloe didn’t know why she stayed. Well, that’s not true. She knew exactly why she stayed. She stayed because there was the tiniest, slimmest possibility that she was really starting to have feelings for him. And an even slimmer possibility that he had already maybe kind of sort of wrapped her around his finger.  

So, she laid down back into the bed, already drifting off, but not before feeling Cal curl his body around her own. Maybe today hadn’t been a complete waste.

___

Chloe awoke the next morning to a loud crashing sound and a sort of high pitched male voice. She pried herself from Cal’s arms gently went to see what all the noise was about. She was still in Cal’s sweatshirt and socks (with her own leggings on of course) as she padded to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had awoken feeling absolutely refreshed and completely confused. She was slightly disoriented as she regained her bearings, yesterday’s events coming back the her. It was then she noticed yet another man of large stature, this one with bright red hair and hazel eyes. He had coffees in his hand, three of them. Taking into to consideration the fact that he was alone and there was only her and Cal in the apartment, she figured the third must be for her. And, since he was the only person that knew she had been with Cal, this must have been Ash.

“Hey.” Chloe spoke softly. Even though who she presumed to be Ash was banging around in the kitchen, she was still holding out hope that Cal would stay asleep. Even though she was already late to work, Chloe figured she would call in a sick day. Give herself another shot at her day off.

“Hey.” Ash turned to face her, kind of surprised. Ash knew that Cal had been pining over his neighbor for a hot minute, and while he wasn’t about to do his best friend like that, Ash had to admit that Chloe was super cute. Especially when she hopped up on the counter and pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose, her hand hidden by the too long sleeves, save for her fingertips. “Here. For you.”

Ash presented Chloe with the third coffee, just as she had expected, and leaned against the counter opposite of her.

“Isn't that Cal’s?” Ash gestured towards the sweatshirt Chloe was still wearing. He knew good and well that it was Cal’s; he just wanted to know why she was wearing it.

“Um, yeah. He lent it to me after he threw up all over my own shirt yesterday.” Chloe rolled her lips into her mouth. She was so ready to leave, feeling that Ash was scrutinizing her for whatever reason. “You know what, I think I’m going to head out. I’m officially passing the baton over to you. His meds are on the coffee table.”

Chloe slid off the counter and gathered her things, deciding to leave the blanket after debating with herself for a minute. It gave her an excuse to see him again anyways. So, once she was sure she had everything, she bade farewell to Ash and walked out the door.

___

It was almost two when Chloe heard the timid knock on the door. It had been a couple weeks since the whole Calum debacle, so she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and slumped over to the door, her entire body sore. She swung the door open only to find the last person she wanted to see sitting there.

“Hi.” Cal only said one word, but he said it really timidly. He didn’t exactly remember everything from when he was sick, so there was a very real possibility that he had said something he was gonna regret. Still, he needed to return her blanket. And to see her again. Although, he remember her differently. She hadn’t looked quite this dead the last time he had seen her, or nearly this angry.

“YOU.” Chloe was feeling quite the whirlwind of emotions right now. She had been wanting to see Cal for a while now, but not like this. She was sure she looked like Hell.

“You look like hell.” Nice one Cal, he thought to himself as he stood there.

“It’s your fault. You got me sick.” Chloe was about to say something more when she felt the familiar taste of salt over take her tongue. Unlike Calum had been, Chloe was a pretty self-sufficient sicko, but that didn’t stop Cal from following her into the bathroom and rubbing her back as she emptied the contents of her stomach, even going so far as to hold her hair back. Chloe was grateful, but all she could think of were her grandmother’s words.

Ah, life, you fickle mistress.